“But, as you can see, we are at close range,” the mutant said.
Everyone knew about the mutants in the Badlands – they were a story you told to scare children. But they were a legend. No one believed they were real. Yet here we were face-to-face with them. And they looked a lot like I had imagined they would. I’d have been happy to be wrong about them. All of the things I’d heard said about them came flooding into my head. They had a contagious disease that ate away their flesh and turned them into zombies. They were rapists. And cannibals. And they smelled really bad. Had they even been human at all? Did ordinary bullets kill them? Or did you need silver ones? I was pretty sure a headshot would kill almost anything.
The mutant reached up and took off the glasses. I saw eyes glinting in the shadows but nothing else. He slowly unwound the scarf that covered his head. We watched, fascinated, not sure what was about to be revealed to us. Skeet gasped and took a step back when the mutant’s face was revealed. It was a skull – but not because the flesh had been eaten away. The tattoo was elaborate, covering his face and neck completely. He appeared to be smiling at us – but how could you really tell?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The skull-faced man glanced towards our vehicles, paying particular attention to the container the truck was carrying.
“You find anything interesting in the battlefield?” he asked. He turned his blue eyes on me to watch my expression when I answered.
“We haven’t seen anything,” I said. “Except you people.”
The skull in front of me frowned. “You’re not collectors?”
“Of what?” Skeet asked.
“We’re taking a shortcut,” I said. “Hiding out from people who don’t want us to get where we’re going.”
“We’re just trying to make a delivery,” Harmony said.
Skull-face considered this. “What are you carrying?”
I thought about trying to bluff him. But what was the point? They had us outgunned and I didn’t want to give them any excuse to start firing. I would happily give up our cargo if it meant we all got out of this alive. Well, maybe not ‘happily’. I led the skull-man to the rear of the truck and opened up one of the container doors.
“Whiskey,” the mutant said flatly. Maybe his comrades were listening in.
“We’re hauling a truckload of whiskey?!” Skeet exclaimed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that?”
This made the man under the skull tattoo show his real teeth in a smile. They were good teeth. Very white. I’d expected him to show some interest in the whiskey – it was a valuable cargo – but he just waved his hand for me to close it up again. He raised a wrist communicator – something powerful but with relatively short range, I guessed.
“You were right, boss,” he said. “They’re just tourists.”
I saw Harmony bristle at this but she kept quiet.
“Be dark soon,” Skull-face said, lowering the communicator and addressing us. “You should probably make camp with us. Things come out in the dark. I’m Sonny.” He held out a gloved hand and, somewhat bemused, I shook it.
“Quin,” I said. “That’s Harmony.”
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding respectfully.
“Skeeter and Floyd,” I said.
Sonny nodded to each of them. “I’ll ride up front with you,” he said to Harmony, “show you the safe way through the swamp. It’s not far.”
When we got there, the mutants actually had circled their wagons. It was easier with four of them. They also had a good-size campfire going. They’d left a gap in the circle for the Trekker, so I took my spot. The truck had to stay outside the ring. Their vehicles, with one exception, looked as you might expect them too. Heavy-duty roll cages welded from tubular steel covered with protective armour plates. Thick mesh instead of glass in the windows. Big chunky tyres and each wheel driven by its own motor. Big spikes all over the place. And all of the metal a standard rust colour. Your typical post-apocalyptic battlefield buggies. One of them had a decent-looking dirt bike fastened to the back of it.
The exception was the leader’s vehicle. It was a four-wheel-drive expedition truck. The kind that houses a machine shop if you’re taking part in a desert rally or a laboratory if you’re off on a scientific expedition. It had been painted a drab olive but this didn’t hide the fact that it was a valuable piece of kit.
I had a feeling that the so-called mutants were playing some sort of elaborate charade here. I felt sure there was more to the ‘Skullbusters’ than met the eye. They didn’t seem like just a rag-tag band of rebels or anarchists. I knew from experience to trust this sort of feeling. And not to reveal my suspicions too soon. I would play along with them – for now.
They all stood as we approached the fire. Without their head-gear, they all looked like they had skull faces – from a distance. Close-to I could see that the effects were achieved with tattoos or make-up. Sonny made the introductions.
The biggest of them was Isak – Sonny pronounced it ‘eye-sack’. He was a brute of a man with a big chest and stout limbs. Not sculpted bodybuilder big but the sort of muscle you get tossing tree trunks around in a logging camp. His facial tattoos were slightly bluish and more tribal, but they still gave the impression of being a stylised skull. His head was completely bald and his blond beard was made up of hundreds of thin plaits, the ends stained red by the rusty steel wire that bound them. A line of heavy rings hung from his left ear. The bottom part of his right ear was missing.
“Did you see his teeth?” Skeet asked after we’d passed him. I had – they were filed to sharp points. Isak also had the brightest blue eyes I think I’ve ever seen. The eyes of a Viking god. And his voice was a deep bass rumble that you could feel in your chest.
In contrast to the big man was Beany – his name possibly a mash-up of ‘boney’ and ‘bean-pole’. Or maybe he just farted a lot. He was a tall, skinny man with deeply sunken, red-rimmed eyes. His face paint was somewhere between a skull and a clown. His friendly grin spoiled the effect, but only a little. His teeth were yellow and he seemed to have a lot more of them than most people. He held his long pale fingers in front of him like a big pale insect. He looked like a character from one of those scary Halloween animations.
“Moving on to contestant number three,” Harmony whispered.
Mayuko didn’t wear any make-up or tattoos. Of them all, I think she was the scariest. Dark eyes, pale flawless skin, and incredible cheekbones. I don’t think she smiled much but she must have liked the look of Harmony: I saw a flicker of an expression that wasn’t a frown. Mayuko moved gracefully, like a panther, and had the wiry body of a professional martial artist. Probably ex-military given her choice of clothes and the way she held her rifle. It was obvious from her eyes that she didn’t think much of the rest of our group.
“I think she likes you,” I whispered.
“Everyone likes me,” Harmony said.
Next up was Becker. He looked like a football player who’d let himself go. Beer and fried chicken had rounded out his face and given him a belly but not so much that he looked fat. He had curly chestnut-brown hair and there was more red than brown in his beard. The white face make-up and dark circles around his eyes looked clumsily applied and the effect was probably deliberate. His belligerent macho swagger was an act he put on because it amused him. There was a sly twinkle in his eyes and he looked like the sort of man you could have a drink and a laugh with.
“Have you decided which one you want to cuddle up with tonight?” Harmony asked.
“I was only looking,” I said.
The leader of the group was the last to be introduced to us. Sonny told us her name was Alina Dolinska. She’d stood watching our reactions as we met the others. She was aloof, almost regal. There was an air of sadness about her – and I think it was more than just the responsibilities of leadership causing it. Her face suggested she was a survivor, a politician, and sometimes a stand-in mother for her crew. Her face was naturally pale and the make-up that dark
ened her eye sockets had been airbrushed. The dark-coloured lipstick made her look more like a vampire than a skeleton. She had that clean, slightly tomboyish beauty that didn’t need clothes or jewellery to bring it out. She saw me looking and gave a slight shake of her head without even being aware she was doing it. A broken heart, I guessed, and not yet ready for a new relationship.
While everyone else sat around the fire sharing a meal, I stood off to the side drinking coffee with Alina.
“Sonny says you’re just travelling through,” she said.
“Yeah, we’re behind schedule and took a shortcut,” I said.
She didn’t look like she was convinced by this. What sort of idiot would drive into the Badlands to save a few miles? But then her frown relaxed. Obviously I looked like that sort of idiot.
“If that’s why you’re here, you’ll get no trouble from us,” she said.
“We can leave?” I asked.
“I’d wait until morning if I were you.”
“Because nasty things come out at night?”
“Some of them come out in daylight too,” she said. “Do you know what you’re doing here?” Her concern seemed genuine.
“Skeet’s our guide,” I said. “He drove the swamp road for years.”
Alina nodded slightly. “He looks the type. Not many of them come this way anymore.”
I looked into her face, wondering whether to ask about her group’s presence there. I think she could tell what I was thinking – the corners of her mouth twitched into a half-smile.
“We’re scavengers,” she said. Sonny had used the term ‘collectors’ but she had no illusions.
“Military hardware?” I asked. “Like the disruption shields?”
“You’d be surprised what you can find lying around,” she said.
Actually, I wouldn’t. I found an abandoned battleship once. And Floyd. Though technically he found me.
“You’re not here for human military tech, are you?” I asked.
She smiled again. “Why would you think that?”
“You don’t need a portable lab for that,” I said.
Her smile faded and I thought I’d said too much. It’s always a fine line.
“There are still things to be found,” she said. “There’s something about this place that preserves them.”
“But you have to seal them in special containers to sell them outside the Badlands.”
Alina did the slow nod again. I think she liked talking to someone new – an outsider who she wasn’t responsible for. But she knew she still had to be on her guard. It was like we were doing a careful dance around each other.
“I guess you sometimes have to work at night,” I said.
“Yes, we do. But not tonight. We have guests.”
There was something in her expression that warned me not to trust her. Or perhaps it was just the vampire make-up. Was she planning something? I didn’t know what she wanted, but I was sure it wasn’t the whiskey and it wasn’t someone to share her sleeping bag.
I headed back towards the truck. Harmony and I were going to share the bunk. She’d made it clear that it was a strictly one night only deal and all we would be doing was sleeping. I was going to respect that, of course. But I still hoped that things might one day go back to the way they had been. After she’d dealt with whatever she needed to deal with. In the short-term, I hoped cuddling might still be permitted.
I stopped to stare out at the inky blackness of the lake. It was like black glass. Not even a ripple disturbed the surface. In the moonlight, it didn’t look quite so deathly. But I still wouldn’t dip a toe in it.
“You shouldn’t stare into the water,” a voice said. “Sometimes it stares back.”
Becker came and stood beside me. He was holding a metal mug and from the way he was swaying, I didn’t think it held cocoa.
“Things live in there?” I asked.
“Things,” he said, “yes, they do. I’ve seen them.” He drank from the mug and stared out over the lake.
“You’re hunters?” I said. Alina had hinted as much.
“Sometimes we are the hunters,” Becker said. “You and that redhead a couple?”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“Sonny’ll be disappointed.”
“Not necessarily,” I said.
Becker turned and grinned at me. “Guess he was right after all.”
I shrugged and smiled. “Goodnight.” I turned away.
“Word of advice,” Becker said.
I didn’t need romantic advice from him but I turned back anyway. Becker was crouched near the edge of the lake, poking the mud with a stick.
I never found out what he wanted to tell me. The water behind him erupted. Something big lunged towards Becker. Only brief flashes remain burned into my brain. A huge spray of water. Teeth in a pair of jaws bigger than anything I had seen before. Becker’s startled expression before the jaws closed on his upper body.
I dashed forward, grabbing Becker’s ankles as the thing tried to drag him into the lake.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The creature shook its massive head, trying to shake me loose. But I wasn’t going to let go. I pulled as hard as I could, my feet slipping in the mud. And then I staggered backwards. For a brief, triumphant moment I thought the swamp beast had released its prey. I was still holding onto Becker’s ankles. But my brain was registering the fact that the weight was wrong. I didn’t need to look down to know that the thing had bitten him in two. I released his ankles and staggered back, vomit rising in the back of my throat.
“Scrack!” I spat.
“What happened?” Drawn by the commotion, Isak came running. One look at the carnage on the shore told him all he needed to know. I was standing in a pool of blood next to half of a corpse.
“I know how it looks, but I didn’t do it,” I gasped.
“Your teeth aren’t big enough,” Isak said. “El Cocodrilo!”
Isak seemed less shocked by the attack than he might have been. He was made of stronger stuff than me. My hands were shaking and I was keeping my gaze away from the blood-splattered shore.
Alina was the last to arrive. She pushed through the half-circle of people by the lake and looked down at what was left of Becker. Her lips were pressed together in a grim line and I saw anger flash in her eyes. If she blamed me for what happened we might be in trouble. Her nostrils flared and she took in several deep breaths.
“Bury him,” she said. “And for scrack’s sake keep away from the water. All of you. I will not lose anyone else.”
Alina turned and stomped back towards her truck. She was upset and didn’t want any of us to see it.
“I’ll go,” Isak said. He headed after her.
I hadn’t seen Sonny leave, but he came back with two shovels. He seemed surprised when I took one from him. We began to dig.
Mayuko ushered everyone else back towards the fire, appointing herself their guardian. I saw Harmony and Skeet helping to build up the fire. I doubted it would be enough to keep the swamp creature away.
Sonny and I stabbed our shovels into the wet earth some way back from the water’s edge. We were at an awkward angle to one another and had to take it in turns to dig, but we both wanted to have the lake in front of us where we could see it. Floyd was standing in the shadows scanning the lake but we couldn’t be certain that his sensors would spot the creature in time to warn us.
“What is that thing? It came up like a shark. Isak called it El Cocodrilo.”
“El cocodrilo masivo,” Sonny said.
“A giant crocodile?”
Sonny shrugged. “That’s what people call it. That or El Bastardo. But they’re not crocodiles.”
“They?” I asked. “You mean there’s more than one?”
“We’ve caught a few of them,” he said. “Small ones. He’s the biggest of them all. We think he’s about twenty-six feet and weighs two-and-a-half maybe three tons.”
That seemed to fit with the little I�
�d seen of him. I just knew he was big. It had been Sonny, I realised, who had visited Daisy-Mae’s and carved the message into the countertop. El Bastardo was hunting again. He’d probably also erected the skewered android. The Skullbusters wanted to scare people away, that much was obvious, but I couldn’t figure out what their motives were. I suspected they weren’t simply providing a public service.
“Do they always hunt at night?” I asked.
“They can see better than us in the dark,” Sonny said. “That slit in their eyes opens up fully to let all the available light in. And there’s a layer at the back of their eyes that amplifies it.”
“Built-in night-vision goggles?” I said. “Do you think he’s still out there?”
“Probably. He can close his nostrils and stay underwater for an hour or more. He’s very patient.”
I glanced nervously towards the lake. “Are we far enough back to be safe?”
“Not really,” Sonny said. He seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. “He can hunt on land too.”
“A shark with legs – great,” I said. “But he’s slower on land, right?”
“Oh, yes. But he could still outrun you – for a short time.” He was smiling because he was younger and knew he was quicker than me. El Bastardo would target the old and the weak.
“Dig faster,” I said.
“He won’t be back tonight,” Sonny said. “He’s already eaten.”
With that thought, we dug in silence for a little while.
“How did they get here?” I asked when we stopped to ease our backs. “Did the Gators bring them from their world?”
“The story is that the Gators kept them as pets,” Sonny said, “but they escaped into the sewers and bred there.”
I looked at him. He was grinning at me.
“That may just be an urban legend,” I said.
“We think El Bastardo could be fifty years old,” Sonny said. “That would make him one of the originals left behind by the Gators.”
“He missed the boat when they went,” I said. “No wonder he’s swazzed off. It’s amazing that he survived all this time on an alien planet.”
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