Compulsion

by Perrin Briar

  “Let’s go,” Mitt said.

  He seemed the most eager to begin leaving Whitegate. They approached a beaten up, but apparently still working, car.

  “Hold up,” Greer said as he came jogging up to them. “Room for one more?”

  “Greer?” Quinn said. “I’m not sure you would like coming along. It’s been awhile since you left Whitegate. Even longer since you went on your last scouting mission.”

  “He goes scouting by himself every week!” Mitt said. “There’s no harder scouting than that!”

  Quinn and Greer shared a look, but said nothing.

  “Skills like that don’t disappear overnight,” Greer said. “I’m sure you could always do with an extra hand.”

  “I’m sure we can handle it ourselves,” Quinn said. “We have many times before.”

  “I’m not here to watch you,” Greer said. “Only lend a hand.”

  “Don’t you have lots of other things you should be getting on with?” Quinn said. “You’re a busy man.”

  Quinn was enjoying the role reversal, Siren realized. Before, it had always been him who asked for permission to head out with Greer, and now it was him with the power to deny Greer… Except he didn’t really have that power.

  Greer was the leader of the community. He could go anywhere and do whatever he pleased, and though Quinn might not be happy with that, it was a fact.

  Quinn was making a mistake if he kept trying to deny Greer. It could only serve to blow up in his face. But, thankfully, he seemed fully aware of the precarious ground he had beneath his feet.

  “Fine,” Quinn said. “But you’d better not get under anyone’s feet. We’re on a scouting mission, not babysitting.”

  “Fair enough,” Greer said.

  It clearly irritated Quinn that Greer didn’t offer much in the way of resistance. He would have preferred a verbal fight, but he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

  Quinn was in the driving seat. He gripped the steering wheel hard. Rafael gave up the front passenger seat to Greer, who hadn’t asked for it, but nodded his thanks anyway. Quinn kept his hands fixed firmly on the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

  Their target today was Lowell, a small town that had far more than Whitegate had to offer in its heyday. It was sure to be home to more Grayskins than back around Whitegate. The scouts didn’t appear to be concerned. They were well trained and had seen everything that could be thrown at them.

  The countryside gave way to Lowell. The gray was something that signified danger to Siren, a place to be avoided at all costs. And here they were, willfully heading directly toward it. But as the town’s streets opened up, revealing its signature broken buildings and shuttered windows and doors, it was clear that much of the town was already empty of people, and had been for a long time. Much of the contents and former riches had been taken already, harvested by who knew what.

  They got out of the car and proceeded down the street. They kept a wary eye at their surroundings, at anything that might jump out at them at any moment. Their movements were precise and choreographed with hundreds of hours of practice.

  Siren stiffened when she caught sight of a Grayskin in their customary loping stride. There was just one of them, and always it brought her out in hives. It was difficult to see the figure at first, as if its skin had adapted to the Gray of the cityscape that surrounded it, evolved to suit their surroundings after the external event that had taken place just two short years earlier.

  There was just one of them. Siren almost didn’t see it at first. Her eyes just slid over it. She felt nothing when she looked at it, no life, no emotion, nothing. It was as dead to her as a rock. Its face was a mask of imposed anger.

  It saw them, bore its teeth, and took a step forward. They readied themselves with their weapons. Then the Grayskin’s face turned cold and disinterested, turning back to shuffle away.

  The scouts were dumbfounded.

  “Must have just fed,” Mitt said.

  But he didn’t sound convinced. As well he shouldn’t, Siren thought. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen. Grayskins always attacked. Always. A Grayskin had never ‘just eaten’ or ‘wasn’t hungry’. It killed anyway. That was the way they were. And yet, it had just turned away from them. How could she explain that? Was it possible Grayskins were different in different parts of the world?

  But the Grayskin wasn’t the only monster they came upon.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A RAIDER. Toward the southern end of town. She was scrabbling amongst a small pile of ruins for something she’d unearthed there.

  Siren’s heart skipped a beat. She wouldn’t have to wait a week after all. If she could capture her, then perhaps she might be able to get the other Raiders—and most importantly Hell’s Angel—to come to her. Armed as they were, it wouldn’t be difficult for them to ‘accidentally’ fire off a shot and take him out.

  “Okay everyone,” Greer said in a low voice. “She hasn’t noticed us yet. We can creep back to our car without her noticing—if we’re careful.”

  But Siren wasn’t interested in being careful. She wanted to get the Raider’s attention, to get her to engage them. She didn’t want any of the others to die, but if one or more of the Raiders died, then it was all the better.

  “I guess it’s going to be a very light haul today,” Mitt said.

  That was true enough, what with how few items they’d found. Any hope of escaping without the Raiders noticing was a short lived one, as three more Raiders, presumably from the same hunting party, emerged on their way back to the car.

  Siren had a chance to hide, but she didn’t take it, and moved sluggishly, not wishing to conceal herself. She wanted to be seen.

  “Who goes there?” a Raider said, withdrawing a pistol. “Show yourself!”

  Siren stepped out from cover with her hands up. Quinn was the first to step out and join her, followed by Mitt, Rafael and Greer. They were faced with two Raiders on one side, and the scavenging Raider on the other.

  “Well, well, well,” the first Raider said. She had a Mohawk. “If it isn’t the local shoppers from Whitegate. Anything you’d care to share?”

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Greer said.

  “That’s fortunate,” Mohawk said. “Because we don’t want any trouble from you either.”

  “That’s great,” Greer said. “We’re just here to do some scouting. We can see this spot is taken, so we’ll go elsewhere.”

  “That’s all fine and dandy,” Mohawk said. “But I think we deserve some recompense, don’t you?”

  “We’re protected by Hell’s Angel,” Greer said. “I’m sure you’re aware of him, right?”

  Judging by the Raiders’ taut expressions, they were. Mitt and Rafael looked surprised by this admonition. Of course, Siren thought. They didn’t know about Greer’s deal with the Raiders or the Merchant. But they had the good sense to keep quiet.

  “He won’t be too happy if we get stopped doing what we’re supposed to be doing,” Greer said.

  The Raider circle closed in around them and tightened up, blocking off any escape route.

  “We can chat for a little while,” Greer said, not that they had a lot of choice.

  “How about you take us back to your community and share what you’ve got?” Mohawk said.

  “I’m not sure I’d like that very much,” Quinn said, stepping forward. “And as the leader of this scouting party, I have to decline, unless there’s something you would like to discuss in terms of trading?”

  “Trading?” Mohawk said.

  He turned to the rest of his gang.

  “Did you hear what this guy just said to me?” he said. “Trading! With a Raider! We’re here for the same reason you are. I don’t see why we ought to do something like that with you when we’re after exactly the same thing you are. Maybe I’ll just come over there and take what we want from you.”

  The Raiders and scouts leveled up their stances, squaring off and preparing to fight. T
hey slipped their blade weapons from the hoops about their waists.

  Getting into a skirmish now wouldn’t help Siren’s goal of keeping one of them alive. They could die for all she knew.

  “There’s no reason to argue,” Siren said, waving her hands for them to calm down. “I’m sure there’s enough for everyone.”

  She was again surprised when both Raider and scout parties nodded. They relaxed a little, visually. The change in situation wasn’t lost on Greer, who seemed to pick up on the atmosphere and every detail of it. The Raiders were nothing if not dangerous, and were known to set off on a hair trigger.

  Siren sensed more Raiders behind her, at their rear, moving into position. They were not visible, but somehow she knew they were there. She always had that ability—to know people were there even when she couldn’t see them. Playing a game of hide and seek was never much fun with her, Wyvern had always said.

  The Raiders were obvious in their approach. In her mind, Siren could see what they were attempting. They were working their way around the scouts and would crush them as soon as they were close enough, and judging by the impressions Siren was getting in her mind’s eye, that didn’t look like it would take long.

  Despite what the Raiders were saying, it was clear they did not intend for the scouts to escape today.

  Before Siren could make a plan, the Raiders were already in place, prepared to spring their trap.

  “Look out!” Siren said. “There’s more behind us!”

  Siren shoved her hand, open palm, forward, and screamed, “No!”

  The Raiders, who had been raising their guns, hesitated, lowering them back down again for a second. Then they shook their heads and began raising them again. But it was too late. The Raiders had given the scouts an opening, and they were not going to ignore it.

  The scouts raised their weapons and blew the Raiders away. Bullets flared from the assault rifles.

  “There!” Siren shouted. “There! There! There! There! There!”

  She couldn’t even hear herself, but she could aim and fire her weapon, aiming at the sheets of corrugated iron perched upon a brick wall. Again, Siren did not know they were there, only sensed they were. The scouts, not knowing where to fire, followed Siren’s unwavering lead.

  Finally, after what felt like an age, the firing stopped. Rivulets of blood dribbled down the brick walls, leaving no doubt Siren had been right.

  “How did you know where they were?” Mitt said. “You must have a good pair of eyes on you, girl. I can’t see anything out here!”

  Siren shrugged.

  “I just had a feeling,” she said.

  “Are there more of them?” Greer said.

  Siren looked across the expanse of rubble and broken buildings.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Do you know where?” Greer said.

  “Not here,” Siren said. “They’re farther out there somewhere.”

  “Can you tell us when you see them?” Greer said.

  “I can’t see them,” Siren said.

  “Sense them,” Greer said. “It’s a better word to use, isn’t it?”

  Siren glanced from one concerned face to another. She had never spoken out loud to anyone about what she could do before. Now, it made her feel embarrassed.

  “It’s just a feeling,” Siren said. “I probably picked up on a smell or sound or something.”

  Greer and Rafael exchanged an uncertain look.

  “Let’s crack on with it, shall we?” Quinn said.

  They headed down the destroyed streets in search of food and water. They found a can of Coke here, a tin of beans there, no great haul unlike what Greer came back with every week, but it all helped.

  Siren froze.

  “They’re there,” she said. “They’re uncertain about emerging out where we can see them. They’ll come out when they think we are at a disadvantage.”

  “I could head out,” Rafael said. “Swoop around and make my way toward them.”

  “No,” Quinn said. “Stay here. The more of us there are, the more likely we are to hit them.”

  And more of us there are to hit, Siren thought.

  Greer and the others opened fire on the locations Siren had pointed out. Sparks hissed and flew from iron puffs of red dust exhaled from brick walls.

  A last ditch attempt by a desperate Raider made him run out into the road, firing indiscriminately. The scouts ducked their heads and fired back. Five guns to one, the Raider didn’t stand a chance. He fell, his trigger finger still firing. Finally the gun just clacked, out of ammo.

  “That’s the last of them,” Siren said.

  She heard a gurgling noise. She turned to find Mitt with blood dribbling down his face. He put his fingers to his chest, saw his fingers were red, and said, “Oh.”

  He collapsed, limbs sprawling like they no longer had bones. The final Raider’s shots had not been complete misses. His bullets had riddled Mitt like Swiss cheese.

  Greer and Quinn knelt beside the fallen man’s body, but it was no good. He was already dead.

  “How did you do that?” Rafael said to Siren, gripping her shoulders. “How did you know they were there? And the way you made them hesitate with shooting us?”

  Rafael looked at her with a frozen expression. He worked his mouth, like he wanted to say something more. Siren couldn’t say a word.

  “We have to take her to him,” Rafael said.

  “To who?” Greer said.

  “To the Merchant,” Rafael said.

  Greer turned his gaze on Rafael.

  “You know about him?” he said. “How?”

  “You didn’t think he would entrust this mission just to you, did you?” Rafael said with a smirk. “It’s too important and valuable to leave in the hands of just one man.”

  “You’re a spy?” Greer said.

  “Of sorts,” Rafael said. “I prefer the term undercover agent myself.”

  “But this isn’t the Skill he was looking for,” Greer said. “He’s looking for someone who can control the Grayskins, the way he can, someone who can mimic his ability.”

  “The Skill has many permutations,” Rafael said. “And she has the ability to control living people. Imagine what someone like the Merchant could do with someone with such a gift! You saw her, what she did to the Raiders. With the proper training, with the right experience, she could aid us in our search for the cure and the end of the apocalypse. It means one day, if we’re lucky, we could be free of them—free of the Grayskins. We just need her to realize her true potential. And she’s not going to do that here.”

  Hearing them talking like this, about her, right in front of her, was horrifying. She was a piece of meat, something to be bargained with. It was like overhearing someone talking about you after you died, hearing what they really thought of you. To these people, the scouts of Whitegate, she was just a commodity.

  “No,” Siren said. “I don’t have the Skill you’re talking about. The Raiders just hesitated, that’s all. You saw it.”

  “No,” Rafael said. “That’s not it at all. What you did was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. And I’m not about to let anyone else get their hands on it.”

  It. There it was. She had lost all personality, all individuality. She was an it.

  Siren backed away, flailing her arms to get away from them. She was a person, not a thing!

  “Siren!” Quinn said. “Siren! Calm down! You’re going to be okay. I promise. You’re going to be all right.”

  He gave her a smile. It was weak. But it was better than the frown on Greer’s face, the glare on Rafael’s.

  Someone hit Siren over the back of the head and the world turned black.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  SIREN awoke with a thudding headache on the stone floor of her cell. The walls were damp, green, dripping with some kind of liquid she couldn’t even begin to recognize.

  She pushed herself up with all her strength, arms shaking. She got to her feet and l
eaned against the wall. The whole world tilted to one side. She stumbled but steadied herself. The world tilted again, this time in the opposite direction. She decided to play it safe and crouch down. It was better to fall from a few inches than a few feet.

  The world began to still. She made her way toward the large rectangle of light she assumed to be the door. It might have been a window for all she knew, but she would get to it, push it open, and get some fresh air.

  She pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t open. She couldn’t find a door handle and began beating on it. She had small hands that really weren’t made for pummelling anything. She gave up, panting for air, her throat sore and rasping with the fetid stench of the prison cell. She slid down the wall to the floor.

  What was happening to her? She could still see the expression on the faces of the Raiders she had commanded to lay down their arms… and for a split second she had thought she had influenced their decisions…

  She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Of course that wasn’t what had happened. It couldn’t have been. Those kinds of things only happened in the movies. Then what exactly had scared the Raiders? The Raiders were used to fear. It was in their blood. Perhaps it was the shock of the moment, of seeing a teenage girl screaming at her… But Siren didn’t believe that. Raiders were used to hearing screams. It was their oxygen.

  Then she sensed something. Someone was coming. His footsteps came down the corridor leading to the cell. Siren couldn’t figure out which part of the community she was located in. She hadn’t seen this part of the town before, didn’t even know it existed.

  A key entered the lock and turned. The door opened, spilling light over the room. Siren could have made a mad dash for the man who had entered, but she doubted she would have gotten far. He wouldn’t have come here alone to pick her up… would he?

  “The council are having a meeting about what to do with you,” Quinn said.

  “What to do with me?” Siren said. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Quinn looked at his hands and shook his head, like he had something he didn’t want to say.