Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  She winced and touch the cut, bloodying her fingers. Dusty and Jon’kin kicked at the warped base of their cage in unison where a gap had formed. Bolts popped from the side and the gap widened. Owl helped wrench it open enough for them to slide through.

  “Now what?” Dusty asked. “Should we make a run for it too?”

  Owl picked up the broken cage bar. “If there’s no one out there, then yes.” She peeked through one of the little windows, catching a flash of movement, then looked back, her heart pounding. “Shit. It’s Merriweather. Stay back in the corner.”

  “Where are you going?” Dusty hissed.

  “Shh!” Owl crept to the wagon doors.

  “Are you sure you couldn’t find anyone out there?” Merriweather’s stressed voice came from the road.

  “No. No one. Do you think it was a perimeter gun? Something hidden that goes off when you get too close?” Bart asked.

  “Perimeter of what? There’s nothing out here! Maybe it was that Islander. Go check the roadway again. If you find someone, bring them back here. Preferably don’t get yourself shot in the process. I can’t fucking believe this happened!”

  Bart grumbled, footsteps fading away from the wagon.

  Gravel crunched outside and Merriweather said, “I hope you ladies aren’t dead in there. That would be a damn shame.” He came into view, his shiny blond hair deflated and sticking to his forehead. A rip in the shoulder of his tweed jacket flapped in the breeze. His blazing eyes locked onto Owl’s, then widened in surprise as she swung the cage bar into his face, cracking it against the bridge of his nose.

  That’s for Dusty.

  He cried out and fell back onto the asphalt. She jumped out of the wagon and bashed him in the head, her lips pulled into a snarl.

  That’s for me.

  Merriweather cowered, one hand over his face and the other reaching for his gun. His waistband was empty.

  She thudded the bar into his arm, every swing churning up her frustration with this entire mission.

  That’s for Jon’kin.

  That’s for Sara.

  And that’s for Auth’ni.

  As she pulled back again, someone yanked the bar out of her hands and grabbed her by the hair. Bart’s rancid breath filled her face as he grunted. “I think that’s about enough of that.”

  Owl stomped on his foot, but he jerked her hair and slung an arm across her throat. Merriweather pushed himself up unsteadily, blood smeared across his twitching face. He hissed, baring his red teeth. “You bitches are way more trouble than you’re worth! And on top of that, I’ll never get enough money back to replace all the merchandise in that wagon!” His voice rose an octave, bordering on hysterical. “Plus the cows, and my fucking face! I think you broke my goddamn nose!”

  “Should we just kill them?” Bart asked, yanking harder on Owl’s hair.

  “Oh, no.” Merriweather put his face an inch from Owl’s and gave her a horrific grin, blood coloring his moustache and dribbling down his lips. She cringed and turned her head. “I’m going to find the most sadistic, twisted freak the wasteland has to offer, and I’m going to upsell you like hell. And then, when I finally have some money for you two, I’m gonna grab a chair and some snacks and giggle my ass off while he flays you open and—”

  Merriweather’s head snapped toward the wagon, where Brandy stood, her eyes wide and tan face ashen as she stared at the sky. “Brandy! Make yourself useful, dammit, and get that pregnant skank and the brat out of the wagon.” He looked back at Owl and grinned. “I want Mouthy to hear exactly what’s going to happen to her baby.”

  Owl’s mouth twisted and she blinked back tears. I don’t know what to do now. I refuse to let something happen to Dusty. Only twenty-one and just married. Baby on the way. She’s had a horrible life and now that she’s had just a little taste of what a good life is, it’s yanked out from beneath her. She doesn’t deserve this. Neither does Sasha. He turned his life around and became a better person. He’s a good guy. A crazy, funny, drone-flying—

  Her mouth parted and she gasped, looking at Brandy’s frightened face.

  Merriweather sneered. “Scared, aren’t ya? You should be. Brandy! What the hell are you doing? Why are you just standing there looking at the clouds?”

  Brandy vacillated near the wagon, twisting her hands together.

  “She knows if she does something wicked that the drones watching right now are going to shoot at you guys again. Right, Brandy?” Owl said.

  Brandy stared at her. “Did you see it too? You couldn’t have. But you heard it, right?”

  “I heard it. And I’ve seen them before too. Do you know how the slaver territory in the West got destroyed?”

  “Yeah, a drone killed their leader. Then shot some more of them. There’s even churches now. Churches for—”

  “Sasha.”

  Merriweather pushed back his hair, deep bruises blossoming across his face. “Brandy, you don’t believe that cult nonsense, do you? It’s bullshit.”

  She gestured to the tipped wagon. “Then how did this happen, Max? Huh? Drones don’t just come out of nowhere and shoot at people.”

  “If you’re wicked they do,” Owl said.

  “Please.” Merriweather rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. It was their Islander friend, following us. But considering that I’m not full of holes right now, he either chickened out, or ran out of ammo.”

  Owl narrowed her gaze, internally smirking. “Don’t you remember what Dusty said before bullets started flying?”

  Merriweather shrugged. “No. Mouthy says a lot of stuff I don’t really care to hear. I doubt I was paying attention.”

  “I heard her,” Brandy whispered. “Didn’t understand it, but I heard her.”

  Owl looked at Brandy. “She was praying. That’s Sasha’s language. And he likes Dusty a lot. He always listens to her. If she asked him to shoot you guys right now, he’d do it.”

  Brandy’s eyes turned to saucers. She looked to the sky, then turned and sprinted down the road.

  Merriweather’s mouth fell open. “Where are you going?”

  “Sorry, Max! I’m getting the hell out of here!”

  Merriweather stared at Brandy’s diminishing form, then glanced at the sky. He opened his arms wide and turned in a circle. “Alright. Here I am! I’m an awful bastard deserving of punishment! …I’m waiting!” He shrugged. “Some god.”

  “What do we do about Brandy?” Bart asked.

  “Forget her. She’ll come crawling back to me and beg to lick my boots like she always does.”

  “Your ego must be what keeps your hair up so high,” Owl muttered.

  “You know what? I’m gonna call you, ‘Snarky.’ Mouthy and Snarky.” He kicked an overturned crate on the road, scattering the contents. After retrieving a roll of duct tape, he ripped off a strip and wrapped it around Owl’s mouth. He rocked back on his heels and grinned, then wrapped the tape around her wrists.

  “Hold her, Bart. I’m getting the other one.”

  Owl squirmed, face contorting, as Merriweather climbed into the overturned wagon.

  “Ow! You little bitch!” A pen flew out of the wagon and landed on the road, the metal nib covered in blood.

  There was the sound of shattering glass and boxes falling over, then Merriweather dragged Dusty from the wagon, gagged and bound in the same manner as Owl. He pushed her onto the ground, then jerked Jon’kin out by the arm.

  “Sit.”

  Blood oozed from the back of his hand as he pulled out a pocket square to wrap around it.

  “You sure this is a good idea, Max?” Bart asked.

  Merriweather shrugged off his tweed jacket and dropped it on the road, then pawed through boxes, plucking things out and putting them in his pockets. “Is what a good idea?”

  “Bringing the women with us. And the kid too. Maybe we should just kill them.”

  Merriweather’s head snapped up, and he narrowed his gaze. “Why? You getting faint hearted all of the sudden or
something?”

  “No…” Bart loosened his grip on Owl and she sat down next to Dusty. Dusty’s fingers found Owl’s and Jon’kin put his hand on Dusty’s arm.

  Bart scratched his shaved head, frowning. “It just seems… Well, like you said—more trouble than it’s worth to take them. I mean, with the wagon, they were safe in the back, out of sight, and we had all our supplies with us. No big deal to keep them back there while you sold stuff to farmers along the way. But now the wagon’s destroyed, cows are dead, Brandy took off, all your merchandise is ruined… I say we cut our losses and just get out of here. And what if whoever shot at us comes back? What if it is their Islander friend?”

  “No. No. We are not doing that. We are going to take these three with us. The women will go to whoever will pay me for them, and the kid is coming to Hammerlink. I’m going to salvage the worthwhile stuff from the wagon, and then we’re leaving. We can buy a cart or something to stick everything in. And guess what, Bart?” Merriweather grinned. “You’re going to pull it. Like the big, stupid ox you are.”

  Bart’s face creased and he folded his arms. “You better pay me.”

  Merriweather retrieved a sack and stuffed items inside. “Oh, I will. I’ll even add a bonus incentive on top of it, too. Do a good job and I’ll let you have Snarky there and do what you want with her until we find someone to sell her to.”

  Bart’s gaze went to Owl, soaking her up. She swallowed, tears pricking her eyes, and Dusty squeezed her hand. “Okay. Fine.”

  “Atta boy, Bart. Now help me pick this shit up off the road. The food and ammo. And where the hell is my gun?”

  Owl shut her eyes, tears running down her cheeks and dripping off the duct tape around her mouth.

  Gentlewave, where are you?

  17

  ~ Sermon ~

  Anise walked into the room with an armload of electronics and a bag slung over one shoulder. She’d been gone a while after Sasha hugged her, and her eyes were red, some of her black liner smudged at the corners. Sasha sighed.

  No more flirting or teasing. No more hugs. The poor woman is so obsessed with me she can’t handle it.

  Corvin looked up from a Followers of Sasha pamphlet in his hand. “I wish I could do more than just lay here in bed.”

  “Maybe you can help me with this stuff,” Sasha said.

  “I doubt it. I don’t know anything about technology.”

  After nudging a table across the floor to Sasha’s bed, Anise dumped the electronics on top and set down the bag. She kept her eyes on the table as she gestured to the items. “I, uh, I don’t know what most of this stuff is, but hopefully I grabbed the right things. I have to go back downstairs to get the drones.”

  Sasha pushed through chargers, cords, and joysticks, pulling out three tablets. “Oh, this things are great. Thank you, bab—Thank you, Anise.” He plugged chargers into two of the tablets and held them out to her. “Can you put this in window? They are solar-chargers and need some sun. When tablets got power, I will test them.”

  Anise nodded and set the tablets in the windowsill, tilting the chargers toward the light. As she rounded Sasha’s bed, he said, “Do you write letters sometimes?”

  She paused. “Yes. All the time. I send them to the other churches and I also write to my family members.”

  “Do you get nervous with letter same way as talk to somebody in person?”

  Anise finally made eye contact. “I guess not.”

  “If you got letter from me, would that upset you?”

  “No… Like I mentioned before, it’s being in your presence in person that is unnerving me. And having you hold me so close—” She clenched her jaw and looked away.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought I was helping you, but it was too much, huh? Well, if letter don’t bother you, then I have great idea. You give me little while to set up, okay?”

  Anise nodded. She paused at Corvin’s bed. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. I’m fine. Bored out of my mind, but fine.”

  “Do you want a book?”

  “That would be lovely.” He scratched at his stubble. “And some shaving supplies if you’ve got them.”

  “I’ll ask the men.”

  Sasha rooted through electronics as Anise left the room.

  “It’s nice what you’re trying to do for her,” Corvin said. “You’ve got that way about you. Lifting others up.”

  Sasha nodded, not turning around as he detangled cable and cords. “It’s not something that come easy to me long time ago. Used to be huge asshole and never thought about other people’s feelings. When I decide to become better person, I have to remind myself, all the time: ‘Think about how this person feel. Think about what you are doing. Do you make this person happy when they are with you, or you making them feel bad?’ I have to say that to myself for long time, until it just happen automatic. Don’t got to think about very much anymore.”

  “Improving yourself is good. I never would have been any different had you and Dewbell not intervened. And I’ve been thinking… I’m going to ask Dewbell to marry me.”

  Sasha turned and smiled. “I remember. You tell me that when I thought we were going to die in ocean.”

  Corvin ran his fingers through his hair. “I really want to know she’s okay. How long is it going to take to get a drone set up and ready to fly?”

  “Well, depends on condition. If drone works okay, just have to sync tablet and drone together. I will work as fast as I can to get it ready. Don’t want Dewbell to be suffering.”

  Hang on, baby. Please don’t hurt yourself. A drone will be showing up on your doorstep before long.

  Corvin frowned. “This whole situation has made me think a lot. One day everything is fine, then it’s all gone to shit. I haven’t been the greatest person in the past, and now that I’m repairing that and realizing how important these new relationships are to me, I don’t want to keep things inside anymore. Because what if we had died? And I never told anyone what they meant to me? I don’t know if there’s an afterlife, but if there is, I think I would regret keeping everything inside, y’know?”

  “That’s great, Corvin. I am glad to hear that. I notice you say more private stuff now than you used to. You show what you feel now instead of being fake, and it’s great. I am glad I can make jokes with you now and you don’t look like you are going to choke me to death.”

  Corvin chuckled. “When we get back, I’m going to buy Dewbell a massive engagement ring and propose.”

  Sasha leaned over and squeezed Corvin’s arm, heart full. “It’s great. I know she will say yes.”

  “And I’m going to tell Owl more stuff. I’ll tell her how much I love her and anything she wants to know about me.”

  “I am happy for you, Corvin. You are lot different guy than when we met. I am glad you made this changes.” Sasha pushed up in the bed, craning to see the tablets in the window. Projected light beamed out of them. They wouldn’t have much of a charge yet, but they worked.

  “God, this is going to be biggest wedding of century with way you like to throw party. There going to be so much decoration and food and everybody going to have fancy suits—”

  “Actually, I think I’d like to keep it low-key and intimate. Maybe just our closest friends. Nothing too flamboyant.”

  “You are kidding me, right?”

  “No. I think Dewbell would prefer something more private and romantic. She doesn’t like my lavish parties that much. I’m still going to go all out on her dress though, like I did with Dusty’s.”

  Sasha sank back into the pillows. “Oh, she was so beautiful. Her dress and hair and gorgeous face. I couldn’t stand it. Stared at her whole time and then we get home, up to the bed, and I take that dress off her. She got on that sexy underwear you make her. God.” Sasha cleared his throat. “Okay. I got to stop thinking about that now.”

  Corvin laughed.

  Anise returned, a drone in her arms. A tall woman in a ratty shirt and jeans trailed
behind her. As soon as she locked eyes with Sasha, she dropped her own drone and put her hands to her mouth. The drone hit the floor with a thud and rolled into the corner.

  Sasha cringed. “Well, if it wasn’t broken before, it probably is now.”

  “Laurel! You dropped a drone!” Anise hissed. “You promised me you’d stay composed!”

  Laurel brushed past Anise, then slowly sank to the floor beside Sasha’s bed. “I don’t care about the drones. They’re machines. I just care about him.” She looked up at Sasha, face frozen in awe.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, hey, baby. Nice to meet you.”

  Laurel’s lip trembled. “I want to thank you, Sasha, for healing my infection last month. I surely would have died if I didn’t start praying to you. I wasn’t much of a believer before that, but I believe now, I promise. Can I… can I touch your hair?”

  Corvin sniggered. Anise’s mouth parted, then her face hardened into a scowl.

  Damn, if I was still single, I could have a lot of fun here. “Sure.”

  Laurel stood and hesitantly stuck her fingers into Sasha’s curls. Corvin’s mouth wavered in a badly concealed grin. Anise grabbed Laurel by the arm and pulled her away, her eyes smoldering.

  “That’s enough. Thanks for your help. You can go now.”

  Laurel kept her eyes on Sasha. “Some people around town are saying you’re not really a god because when you came to us you were sick and bleeding. They say you’re just a man. Even Anise says that. But I think it’s a test; you’re testing us to see if we’ll still help you if you just look like a man. Because we should help our fellow man, right?”

  Sasha nodded. “Yes. You should definitely do that.”

  Laurel turned her wide-eyed gaze to Corvin. “Are you a god disguised as a man too? I bet you are. You need a better disguise, though, because your features are too perfect to be a man’s.”