Raging Inferno: A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (Children of the Elements Book 3)

by Alexa Dare

  “I am better, at present, than I ever was.”

  In many ways, perhaps he was. The light blue of his eyes was as clear and sharp as she’d ever seen them. Had his rounded face always held so much tension, so that now without his powers, a fresh, open look surfaced?

  “I serve no longer as the Void Master. You cannot kill people with your touch. The world shall never be the same. We are different. Can we not survive as a normal family?”

  “Why would you want ordinary?” Nora paced an area between trees. “To stay normal? You ruled the fifth element. You brought pestilence, even raised the dead. Oh, Vinny, there’s so much we can do.”

  “I have never known anything else,” Vincent’s voice broke, “but I am willing to accept this newly granted chance.”

  “I realize these changes might be emotional for you, but there’s strength in doing what we do.” Somehow, she must reason with him.

  “You view my being upset about being used to murder and locked away, but then freed as weak? You find strength in killing people?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” An out-of-control surge raced in throbs through her temples.

  “I thought my drawing of you was my greatest work. You have not viewed the original, but I wanted you to see and have this.” The edges of a drawing, with Queen of the Dead lettered at the bottom, fluttered in his trembling hand.

  “Oh, Vincent, I know this is difficult for you. Since the onset of the storm, I haven’t felt like myself.” A foreboding, as strong as nature’s wrath, spurred her pacing. “I’ll be whole again. As a woman. I’ll be a mother to you.”

  “You are my mother.”

  “But I’ve failed you. I’ll make it up to you. We will start over.”

  He clasped the sheet of paper to his chest. “You promise? Can we be a real family? I shall study art, become a graphic artist.”

  “No, Vincent.” Nora lifted her chin. “I can’t let you settle for that.”

  “It is far from settling. Drawing is what I most want to do. I intend to create pictures that entertain, amuse, or spur curiosity, instead of killing. Drawing is who I am.”

  “You’re so much more. You are Master of the Void.”

  “I prefer being master of nothing or none.”

  “But you can have great power once again.” A panicked flutter took flight under Nora’s ribs. “Let’s get our life back. We can make and share root beer floats.”

  “I do not care for root beer, and I do not think going back is an option.” His light eyes took in everything yet seemed to see nothing. “I came to tell you that they’ll be here soon.”

  “Who? Roderick?”

  “No, both the ones called the Preppers and Stoners. I drew maps and left the maps where they could find them.”

  Nora staggered a step back. “Why?”

  “So they might stop you. Thanks to my drawings, they’ve turned on you.” Vincent blinked through the shadowy chill that might be rays of sunbeams on any normal day. “Once you are stopped, the imbalances shall be righted. Will you accept my picture, as my gift to you?”

  “Not the most mature of actions, but you drew me as if I were the leader of the zombies. The so-called Queen of the Dead.”

  “I even added special touches.”

  Nora spun and marched toward the girls. “The four of us are the world’s greatest hope for a simple life. We can put an end to the ruin. With fear comes respect, so we will lead our followers into a better life.”

  “Your possible followers are murdering their own children. Because of the storm’s effects, because of what your project did to us, and because of what you forced us to do. This ruin is on you, Nora.”

  “Please, we’ll gather as many children as possible. We’ll teach them to survive in a world of simplicity and basics. I can easily mother you all.”

  “You have never been and shall never be a mother.” His words slapped her with a stinging blow.

  “Don’t be so cruel. I realize you’re upset, but your insults are uncalled for nor are they welcome.” Nora fisted her hands on her hips and anger burned in her unsteady breaths.

  “You are a mother to none, Nora Hicks.”

  Nora spun to face her rebellious, confused son.

  The crumpled drawing wafted toward the ground, while Vincent was nowhere in sight.

  “Vincent, we’ve work to do.” Nora tugged in angry gasps until pine resin practically coated her tongue. A red color in the sketch caught her eye and she snatched up the page. Her hands trembled as she glanced around.

  No longer in the safety of his lead room, would his abilities work against her? They hadn’t before. He was bluffing and just wanted to scare her. He resented her being able to have room for so many in her heart.

  In the drawing, added sketches of clouds hovered overhead, while crimson tears dripped from the drawn woman’s eyes.

  The sketch of Nora’s face cried blood.

  Yards into the woods, footsteps snapped branches and crunched leaves.

  Nora ducked down and held her breath.

  Whispered orders filtered through the trees.

  Tucking the offensive drawing inside her blouse, she slipped back beneath pine boughs near the resting girls.

  By the back of their shirt collars, Nora inched the girls deeper under the trees. Within moments, she piled leaves on top of them. In a rush, she used a broken tree branch to sweep away the drag marks.

  Hunted like an animal, should she burrow in or run?

  Any crude effort to hide their trail would fool no one. A half-skilled tracker would find them.

  Nora might not retain her powers, but she wasn’t helpless. She dragged the branch back and forth, while also gripping the jagged wood to use as a weapon.

  A blur slammed into her side, knocking her off her feet.

  She and her attacker hit the ground.

  A filthy, dress-wearing, stringy-haired blond woman fought to gain the upper hand. As she clawed at Nora’s face, the woman dropped an armload of stones.

  Nora beat the attacker’s head with her elbows, until she let go.

  Years of being used… Her pent-up anger fueled her need to escape. Never before had she thought of killing with other than her touch.

  No wonder my son rages.

  With a growl, Nora gripped the blonde’s throat and squeezed.

  Drawn by the noise of the struggle, four men tromped through the brush. They held long branches, a hammer, and a tire iron.

  “Your bullets are long gone or you would have already shot me.” A crunch cracked under her hands, and the scraggly woman went limp. “I can help you with new guns and ammo.”

  Wrapped in decomp and unclean stench, the three strangers, dirty and bruised and crazy-eyed, wheezed in fear. Side stepping in place, the men cast wild sliding glances at one another.

  Nora allowed the thrill of the kill to align her features. She let the choked and dead woman slide into a limp pile at her feet. As if her powers returned, she flexed her fingers.

  Since superstition thrived in rural areas and the superstitious looked to those able to lead in times of trouble, she stood over the corpse and extended her arms out at her sides. “Bring the children unto me,” she said, “for I am mother of all.”

  Chapter 29

  “Kill them. Kill them,” Stoners shouted from toward the foot of Rocky Top.

  Don’t listen, stupid.

  That’s how Hannah would taunt Abe.

  As afternoon slipped into evening, Abe focused on feeling rock with his boot toe. His whole world was gray limestone and granite. The dips and roughness pulled at his fingertips hard enough to loosen his nails, sending sharp aching pangs through his hands.

  In the sheer of the gusts blowing from the direction of the town and filled with smoky horror, he paused.

  From atop the overlook ledge, Brody squinted. “I can’t tell a handhold from an outcrop foot support from up here.”

  Hanging off the cliff, Abe focused on Brody’s face.

&nb
sp; On his cheeks, bright pink dots flushed bright in his paleness. Poor guy. He was like a buffet kind of guy at a fancy white-tablecloth restaurant. No pans of eggrolls or crab angels for any of them today.

  The straight up and down drop of smooth, yet jagged overhang—what was Abe doing—challenged like no stoking flame ever could. “How do you do this thing with the rock, Junior?”

  “Like you know fire, I know earth.” Strain trembled in Junior’s voice. “I can help when you get low enough for me to scope out your holds. In the meantime, even if you have to close your eyes, you can feel your way along.”

  Abe pressed his forehead to stone. His hot breath bounced back to fan his cheeks. “No, you’re not Cantrell. You’re Brody. You saved our butts back there in the Am Sub, and you’re gonna save us now. We help Junior, then find my sister. We have to get to Nora before something bad happens to Darcy Lynn and Hannah.”

  “You go and find them,” Junior called out from below. “Leave me behind. I’ll hang on as long as I can.”

  “Shut up, Junior,” Abe said in Hannah’s snooty tone. He’d roll his eyes as well, if he didn’t fear the height would make him dizzy. “You’ll need to gather more tricks so we can rescue them.”

  Brody wiped sweat from his brow and squinted. He nodded. “If I could see from this angle, I’d help. After the first few feet, Junior can guide you.”

  Abe curled his finger into the stone tighter. Raw burns stung his hands, the red of his fingers flared a deeper red, sort of toward a scalded purple as he descended.

  As Brody held his breath, Abe soon clung a few feet above Junior’s head.

  “Abe?”

  “What?”

  “If I don’t make it…”

  As an ache spread through his belly, Abe release his handholds and let go. His body scraped and slid down the last three or four feet until his boot soles hit the ledge where the younger boy clung. He clutched a bulging rock and grasped Junior’s wrist.

  Abe’s feet slid, but his handgrip held. He whooped his success to echo through the hills. Junior’s happy shouts joined his.

  The rock shelf shifted.

  Heart ramped and mouth layered with bitterness, Abe clutched stone, held on to Junior, and pressed against the granite wall.

  “Hold on.” Brody yelled from up top.

  “Easy for him to say.” Junior grunted.

  “Let’s do this real slow.” Abe, with throbbing hands and aching fingers, tugged Junior farther along the stone shelf. He got him more than halfway when the ledge shook like a rattletrap car on a rutted road.

  “At least, I’m not trapped under the ground.” Junior shook his head. “Too much like Aunt Pearl’s cellar.”

  “Could be worse, if Hannah were here, we’d be soaked to the skin and forced to listen to her whine.” Missing Hannah hurt worse than his raw and throbbing fingers. “I should never have gone back for those people at the church.”

  “They may not be right in the head right now, but they’re people. Besides, you didn’t know how they were until you let them out, right?”

  “I caused the storm, Junior. What Brody did might have worked, but I gave the energy surge a push. I somehow made them the way they are. This one’s on me and nobody else.”

  “One big sloppy mess.” Junior curled on the ledge. He squeezed at his knee above the mudpack cast and writhed in pain on his back.

  In a creaking rumble, the rock beneath them tipped two or three inches, and the front angled toward the valley.

  In a desperate grip, Abe held on to the niche, while he and Junior clung to each other.

  “Nothing you can do to get the ground steady?”

  “Nope. For now, I’m on the outside, instead of part of. Is that how most folks feel about the earth?”

  “I never really thought about it, but I guess so.”

  Junior, his face sad and his gaze darting around as if looking for that something he’d lost, clutched the ledge. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

  “Of course I did. It’s what family does. At least, we’re in one hot mess together.” He curled his fingers against his chest where dots of blood soaked into the gore-slicked grayish white.

  More yelling sounded from the Observatory above. Screams shot toward and seemed to echo off the low-lying blackness of the clouds.

  A man-scream echoed from the parking lot.

  “Brody.” Shock tugging his features, Junior stared upward.

  More shouting broke out.

  “Not good.” Abe studied the crevices. No way could Junior climb out with one leg.

  A yellow rope flipped over the edge of the ledge above and lowered.

  Relief sizzled down Abe’s spine.

  Brody’s pale face, backed by the menacing sky, appeared above the jutting outcrop.

  “Brody, what’s going on?” asked Abe. The rope turned out to be triple strands of twisted, plastic-coated wire. It might be hard to grip, but it was what they had.

  “No time.” Brody said, “We gotta book. Now.”

  Shouts and banging, like rock hitting metal, blasted from above.

  Abe wrapped wire beneath Junior’s arms and around his upper chest, and triple-knotted the wrap in place.

  “Might be better if you go first,” Junior’s brow wrinkled. “You’ll be of more help.”

  “How? You start collecting, and when you refill your bag of tricks, then we’ll talk.” Abe quirked his mouth to the side. “Your cast is busted. The lift is going to hurt.”

  “Are you able to climb?” Junior eyed Abe’s hands.

  “No choice.” Abe rubbed the bleeding nubs of his blistered fingers on the belly of his shirtfront.

  The wire tightened, and Junior’s upper body lifted.

  A grab caught Abe’s ankle. “Aaaahh.”

  Junior’s scream echoed Abe’s.

  Roderick from the prepper camp held on to Abe. The man’s eyes gleamed to bright and his smile showed even his back teeth. “You two will be coming with me.”

  “Don’t think so.” Junior swung his mudpack cast. Although cracked, the rock-hard covering slammed into the man’s head.

  Knocked back, Roderick let go. With a suck of air in his eyes bulging, he skittered over stone and dropped out of sight.

  “That was…” Junior, panting and wincing, gripped his leg above the cast.

  “Too close.” Abe set his fingers on rock edges and settled his feet just above the ledge. “Pull us up. Quick, Brody.” He scaled the rock face, leaving little streaks of bloody blister goo in the grooves as he ascended. On the way up, through the pain, he studied the rockface ahead to gauge where to place his hands and feet next.

  “Better foothold to your right, half a foot-length up.” Junior grinned.

  Brody hauled Junior over the top. The ten-year-old groaned when his lower leg hit. Reaching down, Brody must have noticed Abe’s bloody fingertips, because he leaned over and caught him by the waistband of his jeans and pulled him up.

  Near the Observatory, Stoners threw rocks at the thick panes of glass of the building windows, while inside carpet and furniture burned. Plastic-filled smoke clouds rushed out of the door.

  “Your uncle Merv and Irene?” asked Abe in ramped pants.

  Brody flinched. “Inside.”

  Will it ever end? Abe said, “They need our help.”

  “Uncle Merv said to get out. He yelled at me to go. He wouldn’t listen. Made me promise I’d take you both away from here.”

  “We can’t leave them.” Abe swaddled his hands with his shirttail and rocked onto his heels to relieve the sting. “We’ve let them get their hands on Hannah and Darcy Lynn already.”

  “He’s my uncle. I don’t want to abandon him or Irene, but I promised.”

  “You gave your word. I didn’t. Help Junior find more stuff for real-world fighting.”

  Brody grabbed Abe’s upper arm.

  “I’m no scared little kid, Brody.” Abe’s lungs pumped hard from fighting unshed tears. “Not anymore. If we wan
t to save them, we fight.”

  “How? With what?” Brody’s shoulders squeezed his neck. “No weapons and an empty backpack?”

  “We’ve got each other, and our smarts.” Junior scooted toward the woods on his filthy rear.

  “I’ll lead them away. Give you a chance to get Merv and Irene out.” Abe ripped off his T-shirt and grabbed a branch. In quick wraps, he tied the shirt onto the top.

  He shoved Brody toward the building.

  The black, acrid smoke whooshed in quick rushes out of the opened door.

  “There’s more smoke than fire in there. More concrete and glass than stuff that burns inside.” Abe used the flint and striking stone to light the torch.

  Past the rioters, Brody ran toward the side of the structure.

  Shirtless, he stood on the highest reach of rock. He set firewalls to keep the people away from the building. The more fires he started the more he felt like himself. He held his torch high. From nerdy-rules-are-rules kid to warrior in a few short days. He threw back his head and yelled a wordless cry at black clouds that looked as if they hovered right over the trees. Upper lip curled to reveal the top row of his teeth, he faced the mob and called out, “Come and get me.”

  Not realizing he created a path with the raging inferno for them to follow, the Stoners and locals alike came for him.

  Abe let out his anger yet took in the thrill of stoking the fire lines. The power of the flames drew him. He’d messed up, but he would do whatever he had to do to find and rescue the rest of the group.

  Overhead, a blitz of jagged bolts, instead of zagging unnaturally upward as they had since the EMF blast, zipped, popped, and shot toward the ground.

  Panic seared Abe’s chest.

  Lightning struck.

  Chapter 30

  A tinfoil zing tingled in Brody’s teeth. Numb chills edged the outer part of his mouth. A rough hard surface pressed into his back. Smoke stuffed his nose and burned his lungs. His arms and legs tingled. Even his cheeks pressed heavy around a scorched, ashy zest. Had his injured heart finally given out?

  No pain in his chest, he pried his eyelids apart.

  Muted orange sparks shone against an ebony canopy. The pulses of pale light eased him into a more aware state.