Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set
Page 143
“Is that why you created the Ravagers with your rules of fighting in the Ring?” Cat asked.
“Yeah, I guess so. It was entertainment at first, but then it became a way to tell the newbies apart. To sort the strong ones from the weak.”
Cat opened her mouth to ask one of the million questions brewing inside when Mary entered with another tray. She served the first course, a light crab soup and departed. Hungry despite herself, Cat lifted her spoon and sipped the flavorful broth. “Wow. This is excellent.”
“Yes, apparently Neil enjoyed good food,” Jay replied. “I found a huge pantry overflowing with stuff including canned crab when I took over. Mary was his cook, and now she’s mine.”
“I see,” Cat replied, trying to hide her expression of disdain.
Jay saw through her efforts, though, because he said, “Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Leaders are all the same, including the pleasant and affable Neil.”
“I don’t see why it should be that way,” Cat said with a shake of her head. “Why can’t they lead by example? Why must they live better than the rest?”
Jay shrugged. “I see you disapprove, but think about it. People follow power. They respect those who are stronger than themselves, those who can take command, and with that position comes certain perks. Neil understood this which is why he chose this place as his home.”
“Maybe, but the people of the community lived well too. Not just him. He shared what he had with them.”
“And you’re saying I do not?” Jay said. “But I do. My Ravagers want for nothing. They might not live in mansions or eat crab soup, but they have everything they need and more.”
“Perhaps,” Cat muttered when Mary entered once more. This time it was a garden salad the woman served on a bed of fresh lettuce courtesy of the mansion’s expansive vegetable gardens.
“Say what you mean, Cat,” Jay said once Mary had left. “We agreed on honesty tonight, didn’t we?”
Cat hesitated, afraid to anger the so far relaxed Jay. The last thing she wanted was to see the Beast again. “I know you take care of your Ravagers. They’re your people. But what about the people of Queenstown? How are you treating them? Some of them died the night you took control, others were hurt, and many are now slaves. How many will have died of hunger by the time your ring is finished?”
Jay’s eyes narrowed. “Has someone been talking to you? Joan, perhaps?”
“No,” Cat said, shaking her head. “I was there that night, Jay. I saw what happened. You broke my mother’s nose. You killed Nadia, and you’re holding Lisa hostage against my good behavior. I spent a day in your old stockades, remember, and I still suffer from the injury your ex, Lena, gave me. As for Joan, she refuses to talk to me, but I’ve noticed how thin she’s become. Are you even feeding your new slaves, or are you starving them?”
Once she began talking, Cat found it impossible to stop, the words spilling forth like bile until at last, she halted, aghast at her tirade. Oh, God. He’s going to kill me. Mom. Lisa. What have I done?
Chapter 7 - Nadia
Run, little rabbit. Run. The taunting voice followed her through the long grass. She panicked and darted in the opposite direction only to stop when the same words mocked her from the front. Her heart banged a rapid beat in her chest, and her lungs ached for more air. Run, little rabbit. Run. I’m coming for you.
Nadia jerked upright with a gasp, the nightmare slow to release its hold on her. Pain tore through her side at the sudden movement, and she pressed a hand against her wound while waiting for the worst to pass. Once it did, she looked around the cabin, taking stock.
Her mouth was dry and her stomach empty. Luckily, the coffee and peaches she’d prepared before passing out still waited for her. She gulped down the peaches with greedy fingers, fishing them from the syrup before drinking that too. The coffee was cold and tasted awful, but she finished it. Anything to get a bit of strength back into her body.
The fire had gone out, and she shivered when she realized it was cold and dark inside the cabin. With slow, stiff movements, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled toward the small kitchen and clung to the counter until it passed.
With great effort, Nadia managed to get the fire going once more. With the kettle on to boil, she peered through the slats on the window. It was day. That much she could tell, though it was hard to judge the time as the sky was overcast and grey. Rain, maybe?
Once the water had boiled, she stripped off her clothes and sponged the sweat and dirt from her skin. Her torn and bloodied vest she discarded, donning a spare shirt from the previous owner’s footlocker instead. It was too big and hung down to her knees. Clad in only that, she washed her jeans, socks, and undies before hanging them up to dry by the fire.
Once she set out again, it wouldn’t do to smell like blood. It would only draw in the zombies and make her a target. While she worked, it began to rain. A soft drizzle at first, but it soon turned into a downpour. Once again, Nadia was grateful for the cabin and its shelter.
After drinking more water, she sat down and peeled the covering off her wound. The cut looked ugly. Its ragged edges were charred, and a few blisters had formed after her attempted cauterizing. It didn’t look infected, though, which was a bonus, and a scab was beginning to develop.
She cleaned it with more hot water and put on antiseptic ointment before covering it with a fresh plaster. A couple of paracetamol painkillers took the edge off the pain, and she lay back onto the mattress with a groan of relief. In no time at all, she fell asleep again, her meager reserves strained by her efforts.
Throughout the day, she drifted in and out, waking only to slake her thirst. The thin light that stole in through the cracks in the shutter covering the window waned as night fell, and she woke once more. This time with a bladder full to bursting.
Nadia got up, wondering if she dared go outside, but there was nothing inside the cabin she could relieve herself in. Armed with the ax, she cracked open the door and peered outside. All was quiet, the rain reduced to a fine mist. The last light of day receded over the horizon, and she hurried to the far side of the porch where she relieved her aching need. It was an awkward position with her butt hanging over the edge, one hand holding the pole and the other gripping the ax, but it beat leaving the safety of the house.
Squatting like that was painful, but even worse was the sensation of imminent danger. Every sound sent flurries of panic rushing through her veins, and her head swiveled as she stared into the bushes that surrounded the clearing. As she prepared to finish, a clump of leaves not far from the porch shook.
Nadia swallowed hard on the sudden lump in her throat and slowly straightened up. Her palms were sweaty as they gripped the handle of the ax, and she wondered if she’d be able to take down a zombie in her current state.
The bushes shook again, scattering drops of water in all directions. Nadia took a few steps back toward the door of the cabin, prepared to flee. “I can’t do this. Not now.”
Still, she stayed put. What would it help barricading herself inside the hut for? If it were a zombie, it would simply bang on the door until doomsday. She’d be stuck with no other way out. Soon, her water would run out. Her fuel too.
Nadia looked down at her bare legs and socked feet. Let’s hope it’s not a crowd of zombies. If I have to run away in this get-up, I’m doomed!
Whatever it was, she had to face it here. Now. She squinted at the shivering bush and said. “Whatever you are, just come out already.”
A twig snapped and a dark form burst through the dark green leaves running straight for the porch. Nadia gasped and stumbled backward as a blur of fur rushed toward her in the shape of a dog. “What the hell?”
It pattered up the porch steps on nimble paws and crouched at her feet, staring up at her with golden-brown eyes. There it sat, whining softly as its tail thumped the wooden boards in a rhythmic beat.
“Oh, my God. A dog. W
hat am I supposed to do with you?” Nadia said.
The dog’s tail wagging sped up in response to her question. She sighed and stared over its head at the surrounding area, looking for zombies that might have followed the animal. Nothing stirred, and she quickly made her mind up.
“All right then. Come inside.” She moved aside, and the dog ran into the cabin like its tail was on fire. Smothering a smile, she added, “Stay off the bed with your muddy paws!”
The dog headed straight for the fire, its skinny frame shivering from the wet and cold. Nadia felt pity well up inside her breast. Poor thing.
Despite her feelings, however, the beast represented a problem. A big one. Injured as she was, how could she look after a dog? She could barely care for herself, let alone an animal. “And what about zombies? What if you bark at them? I can’t have you making a racket. That would never do.”
The dog looked at her over his shoulder, his gaze earnest as if aware of her thoughts. The thought of tossing him out again was more than she could bear. Her heart melted, and with a sigh, she closed and barred the door behind her. “Guess you’re here to stay, but first, I need to clean you up a bit.”
The poor thing looked so scared though, she decided to let it be for a while so it could get used to her first. After setting aside the ax, she hobbled over to the kitchen, her movements slow and painful. After rummaging through the cupboard, she found a bowl and poured some water into it. “Here you go. Drink up.”
Next, she made herself a cup of coffee before contemplating dinner. Her tummy rumbled at the mere thought of food, having had nothing more than a can of peaches in the space of two days.
“So, what do you feel like eating? You must be hungry. I sure am.” She scratched through the contents of the cupboard and came up with a pot, sardines, instant noodles, and soup. “Fish stew it is.”
The dog’s ears perked as she talked to it, its brown eyes following her every move. She couldn’t make out what breed it was. Medium sized, its hair was black and curly with a white spot on the chest and floppy ears.
“I wonder what you are. Probably a mixed breed,” she mused as she cooked the noodles in a bit of water before adding the soup and canned fish. “Don’t let it bother you. Mixed breeds are usually the best kind. Tough and hardy.”
The dog whined a bit as it eyed the bubbling mixture of food in the pot, and she grinned. “You are hungry! Well, it’s almost ready. Just let it cool a bit, or you’ll burn your mouth.”
The dog’s tail thumped in answer.
She paused and stared at it. “You need a name, you know? How about Spot?”
The dog’s tail stopped wagging.
“Yeah, okay. Too obvious. What about Rover?”
The dog looked annoyed.
“You’re right. Too pretentious.” She tapped her chin with one finger while she thought about it. “You’re a clever one, I can tell. How about Dexter?”
The dog’s ear perked up, and its tail wagged.
“Oh, you like that, do you? Dexter, it is, then.”
While she waited for the food to cool down, Nadia stripped the blankets off the bed. They were full of dust, and after looking through the window first, she stepped outside to shake off the grit.
After remaking the bed, she created a spot for the dog next to the fire using an extra blanket. Grabbing two plates, she dished up half of the food for each of them. Dexter wasted no time scoffing his, while she took her time, savoring each bite.
The hot food and fire were warming up her core, and she sighed with pleasure as her taut muscles relaxed. Finally, she put aside the empty plates and turned to Dexter. “I’m turning in, buddy. As you can probably tell, I’m not well, and I need my rest.”
She reached out a slow hand and patted the dog on the head. It shied a bit but appeared to enjoy the contact. “There see, that’s not so bad.”
Nadia crawled into bed and curled into a ball, allowing her exhaustion to take her away from the pain of her injury. This time, it wasn’t so bad, though. She had a new friend now, after all, and that alone was enough to brighten her mood. It was with a lighter heart that she fell asleep, and the last thing she saw was Dexter curling up in the little nest she’d made for him, his nose tucked into his tail. “Goodnight, Dexter.”
Chapter 8 - Cat
Jay carefully laid down his knife and fork, each movement made with extreme care as if he was afraid of losing control. “I will answer your accusations, Catherine, but only because I value your opinion of me. However, never, ever, question me like that in front of others. Understand?”
Cat swallowed hard. “I understand.”
“Good.” Jay pinned her to the seat with his gaze, their depths as deep and dark as an ocean abyss. “First of all, of course, I take care of my Ravagers. They are my people, my family, and they earned the right to be there.”
“Earned?” Cat asked. “How do you earn a place among the Ravagers?”
“Have you forgotten, my sweet? That’s what the Ring is for. We Ravagers respect the strong and despise the weak. It’s the natural order of things. Just look at animals in the wild, for example. Some are prey, and some are predators. Which would you prefer to be?”
“I guess,” Cat mumbled, though she was far from convinced.
“Yes, a few people died when we took over, but that was not my intention. If they had surrendered as ordered, they’d still be alive. Your mother disobeyed me in front of the guards, and that’s why I had to teach her a lesson. As long as people obey me, there’s no need for punishment. Understand?”
“What about the slaves?”
“I prefer the term servants.”
“Servants, then. Why do they get treated differently?” Cat insisted.
“Because they’re not strong enough to fight in the ring for a place among us Ravagers. As such, they need our protection. Who’ll man the walls? Who will go on raids for supplies? Who will feed them and keep them safe? The Ravagers, that’s who. If they have to serve us in return, that’s a small price to pay.”
“Maybe, but why starve them and keep them in stockades? I’ve been in one of those, and it’s hell. Not even animals are treated like that,” Cat said.
“That was a mistake. My brother Paul’s idea, actually. Here, they’ll be treated fairly and given proper housing and supplies. You say that Joan and her kind are starving. I’ll look into it, I promise. The last thing I want is for them to die from hunger or illness. It might be that someone is disobeying my orders.”
“You promise?” Cat asked. “And please don’t punish Joan. She did not complain to me. I inferred this myself.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you,” Cat said. Despite her reservations, she found herself wanting to believe Jay. He sounded so reasonable, and from their previous conversation, she knew he’d led a tough life. A harsh upbringing with a tyrannical father.
“As for Nadia, I know she was your best friend, but she killed my brother. An eye for an eye, Kitten.”
Cat lowered her gaze to her plate and pushed back the tears threatening to unleash themselves. She missed her friend and hated Jay for killing her. That would never change.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me for Nadia, but try to understand. If it was your brother, your family, what would you do?”
“I suppose,” Cat answered with reluctance, though her grief continued to surge through her breast.
“This is a different world we live in, Cat. It’s harsh, and it’s bleak, and it’s only for the strong. The sooner you learn that the better,” Jay said. “As for the people of Queenstown, they’ll be given two options: prove themselves worthy as a Ravager, or serve me in whatever capacity they can in return for food, shelter, and protection from the undead.”
“I see.”
At that moment, Mary entered with the main course. Roast chicken, rice, gravy, sweet carrots, and green beans. She removed their half-eaten salads and topped up their wine glasses before departing with a quick curtsy.
Cat’s eyes lightened up, and her heart leaped in her chest. “Really? You’d let me see my mom and Lisa?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not a monster.”
“Thank you,” Cat said before digging into her meal with gusto. This time she was able to enjoy the food, her mood gay with the thought of the upcoming visit.
“So tell me a bit about yourself,” Jay said.
“Like what?”
“Your childhood, school, how you survived the apocalypse, anything. I’d like to get to know you better,” he said.
“Okay,” Cat agreed, telling him a bit about her life as an only child to a single parent, though she avoided all mention of her friendship with Nadia.
“What about after the apocalypse?” Jay asked. “That must be an interesting story.”
“Not really,” she hedged, reluctant to tell him anything relating to St. Francis. Being the type of man he was, Jay would set his sights on her home and try to conquer it. “I was attacked that first day on the way home from school and managed to kill the zombie with my hockey stick.”
“A hockey stick?” Jay laughed. “That’s a first.”
“Yeah, I went home and waited for my mom, but she never showed, so I went looking for her. I never found her but two kids instead. They needed me, so I took them to a farm for safekeeping and stayed there for about a year, joined by a few others. We were happy for a while as a family of sorts.”
“What happened then?”
“The farm was overrun, and I barely made it out. I met up with Lisa and Nadia on the road, and we decided to look for my mom. The rest is history, I guess. I mean, here I am.”
“It must have been terrible when the farm was taken. All your friends…dead like that?” Jay’s eyes rested on her face, gauging and testing for honesty.