by M. Barnette
There were more gunshots from somewhere off in the distance. Too far away to be Bells.
A sound came to them, the man's bike at high acceleration, heading their way.
He hadn't turned on the headlight, but she could just make out the shape of the motorcycle coming toward them. An instant later the bike was in the trees, heading down the slope at a speed that was probably going to damage the machine. Street bikes weren't meant to go off road, but she didn't really think it mattered at the moment. Not while they were running for their lives.
Anya grabbed Nikki by the arm, “Is that him or someone who grabbed his bike?"
"I think it's him,” Nikki replied as the bike skidded to a stop in a welter of leaves.
"Come on!” the voice was a masculine growl, hard and angry, but she could still hear the velvet underlying it, and the bells in his hair rang softly as he righted the bike.
"There's three of us. We can't all ride that thing,” Anya started to argue.
Eyes that glowed like blacklight turned to regard them both. They weren't human eyes. Fear dug sharp claws into Nikki's courage and she heard Anya gasp and step back.
"Move. Now."
Hawk trusted him. That had to be enough. But how did the Rangers find us? her paranoia asked. Nikki grabbed Anya's arm and she dragged the other woman toward the bike. What choice do we have? Besides, he did kill those men, so he can't be a Ranger.
She felt Bells’ hand close on her forearm. “In front of me. Anya, get on behind and hold on to me as tight as you can."
Nikki got on, and realized there was something odd about the bike the instant she touched it. There wasn't any smell of exhaust, no heat from where the engine must be located. But this really wasn't the time to ask any questions.
She felt Anya's arms wrap around the man's waist as her hands brushed along her back.
"You've got to hold on really tight, Anya. This is going to be a rough ride."
The bike shot forward, entering the cold water of the creek, the wheels slipping on the mossy rocks as the heavy vehicle jolted along the stream bed. They came out on the opposite bank, the motorcycle climbing the steep slope, Bells guiding it between the trees, weaving along faster than Nikki thought was safe. Or sane.
"Dear God, can you even see where we're going?” she heard Anya ask. They weren't going so fast that she couldn't be heard, but the pace was frightening, especially for Nikki who had the front seat on the E-ticket ride they were taking.
"I can see, just hang on,” Bells repeated.
* * * *
He could smell the fear pouring off both women, and the scent of blood from their injuries sent a seething rage through him that he fought to control. He couldn't let it get away from him. He had to keep a rein on the Dragon, had to fight the urge to go back and kill every last one of the men that hurt them. Not because the act of killing them would be wrong, but because he had a duty to protect the females in his care.
Hawk had wanted them to get away, and he'd promised to see that they did.
They hit the road and the bike sped up, reaching sixty miles an hour as he opened up the throttle.
Behind them headlights danced and wove as a pair of Hummers hit the pavement, the Rangers giving chase.
"They're behind us,” Anya warned.
"I see them,” Bells told her, giving the bike a bit more throttle. He couldn't go much faster, not because the bike couldn't handle it, but because he was afraid what would happen to them if they hit a pothole or wide crack in the road at that speed.
The women would be badly hurt, or killed, and that was an eventuality he was doing his damnedest to prevent.
But they were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Either way it was going to be just a matter of time before the Rangers caught up to them, or they came across a bad patch of road and wrecked. He'd heard enough about washouts and cracks formed by winter weather during a brief conversation between Dal and Hawk to know that it was a real hazard.
And it didn't take them long to come across something that forced him to slow down dramatically. A three-foot-deep, ten-foot-wide cut angled across the roadway. He slowed the bike to a crawl, the vehicles following them approaching rapidly as he maneuvered the bike.
"We aren't going to escape,” Anya said. “Not all three of us."
"I'll figure something out,” Bells told her as he started the bike up the slope to the roadway.
He gunned it, accelerating as fast as he dared.
But the Rangers had caught up.
He could feel the cold burn of warning as it screamed along his nerves and he started weaving the bike, trying to keep them from getting a clear shot at them.
The Rangers were just too good, one of them leaned out a window, taking careful aim with a rifle.
A shot spanged off the bike in a spray of hot sparks.
"Shit!” Anya screamed in his ear. “They're going to try and kill the bike!"
"Don't worry about the bike. They don't have anything capable of really doing it any damage,” he shouted to be heard over the wind as they sped along.
"By the order of his Royal Majesty Roderik, King of the Lone Star Empire I demand that you, stop!"
Bells laughed in disbelief. “They've got to be fucking kidding, right?"
"Probably not,” Nikki shouted.
He shifted his weight and the bike changed direction slightly. Increasing their speed a little, he gave the little shifting of his body a second time, repeated the dodging motion, trying to keep them from hitting them again.
A second bullet smacked the motorcycle's armor and Anya screamed in alarm as a bit of hot metal burned her calf. “We're not going to get away!” she shouted.
"THAT WAS YOUR FINAL WARNING!” the voice from the leading Hummer roared out over the vehicle's PA system.
"Hang on really tight,” Bells warned Anya as he twisted the throttle.
There was a sharp squeak of rubber on road and the bike leapt ahead, moving fast, dangerously so, but he didn't have much choice. He also didn't dare let the bike stay at that speed for long, not on the rough pavement. It was too risky, but it did give them more distance between the bike and the lead Ranger vehicle.
But this time instead of a single shot, the Ranger opened fire with a short burst.
Anya screamed and let go.
"ANYA!” Nikki shrieked. “We have to go back! We can't leave her!"
Bells glanced behind them. A single look was all he needed. There was no use risking capture, Anya was already dead.
Swearing, angry, he twisted the throttle. He didn't have to worry about Anya falling off anymore, and with only Nikki's added weight to worry about he could take a few more risks. The rage burning through him was making his body shake, made him want to kill.
"Oh, God,” he heard Nikki over the roar of the wind. “What happened to your eyes? Why are they brighter?"
Bells said nothing. It wanted free, and he didn't dare risk letting It loose.
The motorcycle gained speed, streaking down the nighted roadway, leaving the Rangers in their heavier Hummers far behind.
Chapter Six
She was crying, hanging tightly to him and sobbing, the grief overwhelming her so completely she couldn't stand, couldn't move.
Everyone was dead. Hawk, Chet, Dal, even Anya. Gone. Most of them probably dead.
Snuffed out like a lit match in a strong wind.
There were strong arms keeping her on the bike, a warm presence behind her. But he wasn't any of the people she wanted most, the people she'd lived with, laughed with and come to love over the past year. He was still a stranger. A hardened killer, not the friends she loved and who had loved her without reservation.
"Anya,” she sobbed. Her friend. “She was going to marry Dal. I was going to be her bridesmaid."
She didn't even know if the man was listening to her, sitting silent as the bike roared through the night. And she couldn't stop crying. Couldn't see anything for the tears streaming down her face.
Dal was back there somewhere, maybe alive and wounded. Maybe dead or captured and worse off than dead.
Hawk was back there somewhere, too. Possibly hurt. Captured.
For him that would be worse than death. Roderik was not forgiving, and an Immortal couldn't die. But they could suffer an eternity of pain.
"Oh God ... Hawk ... Hawk...” she wailed out her sorrow, crossing a surreal nightmare landscape of a world that had lost the small grain sanity she'd clung to for the last year.
* * * *
Nikki's sobs sent jolts of impotent rage though him, burning white hot in his chest. He gritted his teeth struggling with the urge to find somewhere to hide her and go back to serve up some well deserved justice on the bastards who'd destroyed her attempt at a life. Men who'd ruined her happiness and taken away everyone and everything that had come to matter to her.
There was an echo of pain inside his own heart. He'd made a promise to keep Anya safe, and he'd failed that miserably. Her loss hurt. He was a protector. Her guardian. The acid burn of failure etching his heart wasn't something he accepted easily. His soul burned with the anger, the Immortal creature at the core of his Warrior's Fire seethed, tearing at the chains binding it, his control growing more tenuous. He was shaking almost as violently as the woman in his arms, hurting for Nikki, angry because he'd failed to really protect anyone.
Nikki was alive, but her heart was a blasted ruin of sorrow.
Her pain ripped at his heart, tore at his soul, and the Beast raged, seeing freedom from the bindings holding it captive to his will. A will deeply shaken by the night's dire circumstances.
And that was his fault because he hadn't taken control of the situation at the outset. He'd let the others call the shots. No plan, just react and run. They'd all acted the part of fools. Him most of all.
That was not his usual standard operating procedure. He knew better.
And he realized abruptly that he did, indeed, know better. He'd led men before. Held their unwavering loyalty. Faces and names swam up out of the past, disjointed, confusing. It was the know-how that mattered. He could drive a tank, fly a chopper, use just about any and all weapons man had ever created.
He knew how to kill.
It was love he had a problem getting a handle on.
There was a sign ahead and he slowed the bike as they reached its bullet riddled surface. He could still read what was printed on it.
Horton: 15 miles.
Junction State Road 190: 5 miles.
He didn't want to go to Horton. It was too obvious a place to go. People in Sugarsprings had known Hawk and his people were going there.
And that alone was a good enough reason not to head for Horton. The Rangers would be expecting it.
He sat considering their situation. They had no food, no clothing, nothing to trade, and he was out of ammunition for his .357. He'd also lost his katana during the battle at the house. More than having no bullets that fact bothered him. He hated losing the weapon because a sword made for a quieter kill, and never needed reloading.
But it wasn't time to fight right now.
It was time to go to ground somewhere. Time to hide and gather up what they required to survive.
He listened to Nikki's anguished sobs. She also needed time to heal.
Bells hated being a vulture. But he was good at it.
The bike sped off down the road taking the branching way that was State Road 190, in a bid to evade the men hunting Nikki.
Probably hunting him, too.
* * * *
Nikki, sunk in grief, didn't even notice that Bells had stopped the bike until his warmth disappeared. But it wasn't gone for long. She felt him pick her up as easily as she could have lifted a child, carrying her inside a building she was only aware of in the vaguest sense. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and she desperately wanted a tissue to relieve her clogged nose.
Bleary eyed, she looked around, realizing they were inside a store. Glass crunched under the thick, soled boots he wore.
"Where are we?"
"A department store. I don't know the name of the town."
His voice was velvety, the hardness gone now that he wasn't fighting to save her life. Black as pitch and he was carrying her through the dark, fear nagging at her mind. If they were attacked here she wouldn't even be able to see their attackers.
"It's okay, don't be scared,” he murmured, his arms drawing her closer. “I've got you. I won't ever let anyone hurt you, Nikki. I swear."
There was a harder note in his voice, one that promised violence and fast death to anyone who tried to hurt her. “I fucked up. I didn't save Anya. But I won't fuck up with you. You've got my word on that."
At the mention of her friend's name tears started falling from her sore eyes, and she just couldn't stop them. “I'm sorry,” she sobbed, pressing her face to his leather clad shoulder.
"For what, Nikki?” he asked her softly.
"Crying..."
"Cry if you want,” he told her gently.
He was climbing now, going up stairs, not even winded though she wasn't a small girl and had developed a good deal more muscle than she'd carried before the world went to hell.
It was so dark in the store, she couldn't see a thing until he looked down at her. His eyes were visible, faintly glowing, deeply blue.
She felt him kick something with his foot, then he was putting her down into a chair of some kind. “Can you stand being alone for a few minutes? I'm going to try and find some candles or flashlights and batteries."
"Alone?” She almost squeaked, gripped by sudden unreasoning terror.
"Never mind.” Arms picked her up and moved her to a different place and she realized with a shock she was on a bed. He'd said they were in a department store. Maybe they were in the furniture department.
She steeled her resolve. “Go on, I'll be okay here. Find some candles and stuff."
"You sure?” A gentle hand touched her cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of her bottom lip in a tender caress.
Where had the icy killer gone? Was she asleep and dreaming?
No. Anya, Chet, and Dal were dead. And Hawk ... Hawk was probably a captive of the Rangers.
"Just don't be gone long, okay?"
"Sure, Nikki."
She heard him walk away, as a faint whisper of sound, the ting of a bell, that faded in the darkness.
Alone, she wrapped her arms around herself and started to sob. She just couldn't stop crying.
* * * *
Moving through the stygian gloom of the store, Bells searched for what he needed. Candles, matches, a flashlight, tissues, or something else Nikki could use amid the wreckage that the looters had left behind. Light was comforting, reassuring. It held the horrors of the dark at bay and had since the days when humans had huddled in chilly caves with only the power of firelight to keep the monsters conjured by their minds away.
Bells didn't fear the monsters that lurked beyond the firelight because he knew he was one of them.
No, the only thing that scared him was his increasing desire to protect Nikki. A desire that came with the annoying side effect of growing sexual need. He wanted her, and not just because of her tears. It was the depths of her eyes, the light of her gentle soul shining in them. The whole way up the frozen escalator he'd been hard as steel, and glad as hell it was too dark for her to see. The last thing she'd be in the mood for were any sexual gymnastics. She'd just lost everyone she held dear, everyone she loved, and he had no right to foist his own emotional melodramatic baggage on her.
He couldn't ignore what he felt for her. Not anymore. But he could put it under wraps and lock it down the way he did everything else that bothered him.
Finding a display of candles and incense that was virtually untouched by the looters, he scooped up several of the largest multi-wick candles, grabbed a box of matches from the shelf above them, and hurried back to where he'd left Nikki, stopping only to grab a pile of linen napkins in lieu of tissues.
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"Is that you, Bells?"
"Yeah,” he affirmed, ripping open the package of matches, stripping off the plastic film from two of the candles. The scent of vanilla filled the still air. He struck the match, seeing her flushed and tear-stained face, her disheveled hair, and a ugly bruise that discolored her cheek. There was dried blood on her lower lip, the flesh swollen, sore.
Hurt, scared, emotional wreckage. His heart ached for her, his body warmed with anger. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the simple act of setting match to wick, giving her light to drive away the horrors that lived in the dark. He put one candle on the top of a display table and sat holding the other one so she could see him clearly.
"Thanks,” she said, hiccuping in the middle of the word.
He passed her the pile of napkins. “I couldn't find any tissues. Will these do?"
Nikki nodded and took one, blowing her nose.
"Will you be okay if I leave you for a little while again? I'm going to try and find some food and clean clothes for you."
He watched her nod.
Leaning in closer, he met her sable gaze. “You sure?"
Tears spilled free.
He couldn't take it.
Putting the candle on the floor, Bells sat down on the display bed and pulled her into his arms.
* * * *
Her little show of courage died and Nikki started sobbing, her arms twining around his neck, face pressed to his shoulder.
It hurt. It hurt like knowing she hadn't been there for her parents. Hurt like watching so many people die. And the pain worse than anything she'd ever felt before because they'd been her family, not by blood, but by choice. Their friendships, and love—yes, love—forged in the fires of the post Apocalypse hell they were condemned to live within were more strongly bonded together than anything she'd ever known.
She couldn't help but cry.
Couldn't do anything but throw her arms around his neck and hold tightly to the last small bit of comfort left in a world of madness, hatred, and instant death.
Happiness was so fleeting. Just a few hours ago they'd been together watching a stupid movie, drinking beer, laughing, throwing popcorn at Chet.
Anya had asked her to be a bridesmaid. Now Anya was dead.