We come to a stop at a small clearing where a cave entrance is covered with a large boulder. When I look closer I can see that it’s attached to a pulley system of sorts which looks like it can only be accessed from the inside. It’s so secluded that at first I wonder if this is all just some sick joke and the Rejects are actually bringing me and Mikey here to kill us. It wouldn’t surprise me with Drag. He seems the sort of man that would find that shit hilarious. But then I see Butcher looking out the window, his cigar hanging from his mouth and his neck craned so that he can see up into the trees, and when I lean forward and look out, I see what he’s looking at.
Zeds are tied all around—high up, low down, it doesn’t matter. They’re secured with rope, from what I can see from this distance. And something tells me that when they went up there, they weren’t dead. Dark puddles are on the ground under the trees, guts and body parts piled up like pig slop.
“Sick shit, right?” Butcher says.
I look over at Mikey but he’s expressionless to it all, sort of immune to what he’s seeing. Drag keeps his engine running, and he stays seated on his bike, his gun out of view, and we all sit and wait for him to do something. I’m about to ask what’s going on and what the plan is when I see the huge rock covering the entrance of the cave slowly moving. The barrel of a gun pushes out of the small gap, and I hear Drag laughing and holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“It’s all right, it’s all right, we’re all good here. We mean you no harm,” he says, his tone playful and animated. “We came into some more shipments and couldn’t wait until the DD.”
I look across at Butcher. “DD?” I whisper.
“Drop day,” he replies.
I hadn’t thought to ask what their dealings with the Savages were, and I’m kind of kicking myself for that now, but at least I’m certain that it’s not in people. Still, in a world where not a lot survived, and what did survive is mostly ruined, I wonder how people are still running businesses.
I look back to Drag, but he’s still waiting on the Savages to open up properly for us. He looks relaxed and unconcerned with the gun aimed at his head, which just goes to show the level of crazy he really is. However, instead of the Savages opening the door for us, they roll it closed.
“What the?” I whisper, feeling frantic now.
Odds of survival are eighty percent.
“Why aren’t we doing something?” Mikey asks, finally some emotion in his tone. I mean, it’s anger, but at least it’s better than the monotone Mikey I’ve listened to for the past twenty-four hours.
“Chill, brother, Drag’s got this. That motherfucker could charm his way back into his own mama’s pussy,” Butcher says, still smoking his cigar like we’ve come here for a coffee and a bagel and we’re not out for blood.
A minute passes, and then two, and still nothing. Mikey is burning up next to me, the heat of his anger radiating from him to me and making me sweat. His hands are still on the steering wheel of the truck, his knuckles white he’s gripping it that hard.
“Mike—” I start to say his name but then the door starts to roll open on the cave again, and Butcher hits my thigh.
“Here we go, here we go,” he says, and I shut my mouth and grip my gun tightly.
And then the most surprising thing of all happens. Something that catches me so off guard that I almost cry out loudly “what the hell?”
A woman comes out of the cave. A beautiful woman.
Her skin is pale, and her long blond hair hangs down her back in a plait, swaying from side to side as she walks. She’s dressed in leather rags that look like they’ve been stitched together with wool, and she’s carrying what looks like a freaking Uzi and walking with more swagger than Drag and Butcher put together. Behind her trail at least twenty more women, all armed to the teeth and dressed in similar outfits, all with that same deathly pale complexion. Their eyes are everywhere—on the bikes, the truck, the trees. They don’t miss a damn thing, and the fear I had previously is nothing compared to what I feel now.
Chance of survival…sixty percent.
Maybe less.
The woman lifts her Uzi up, a snarl on her beautiful mouth.
Yes, definitely less.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Why are you here?” she says, her voice like liquid silk with a side portion of fire. I feel scorched by her words and her all-seeing eyes.
Drag climbs off of his bike, and straightens out his cut in a leisurely manner before pulling out his cigarettes from his top pocket. He takes his time in lighting one, and then he runs a hand through his floppy hair as if he has all the time in the world.
“I told you, we got a new shipment that couldn’t wait until DD.” Drag smiles, but none of the other women smile back. He once again runs his hand through his hair nonchalantly. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”
“You are not welcome here. Not today,” the woman says.
Drag puts a hand on top of his bike and spits on the ground. “That’s not what you said the last time I was here,” he laughs, gripping his crotch arrogantly. But no one laughs with him. It still doesn’t stop him from enjoying his moment, though. God bless his stupid male brain.
The woman doesn’t say anything, but I see her gripping the Uzi that much tighter, her jaw twitching every time Drag speaks. He annoys her, that much is obvious, but she deals with him because she has to. He has something that she wants. And it’s not trading humans, thank god.
“You really sendin’ me away, Aife? Just like that, after all we’ve been through?” Drag blows out some smoke and keeps his face to the woman. I don’t need to see his expression to know that he’ll still have that arrogant grin on his face, almost mocking the danger of this situation.
A willowy, dark-skinned woman next to Aife leans in and whispers something in her ear, and then Aife is looking toward the truck, and at us three sitting inside it. I swallow almost comically loudly.
“Who is that?” she asks, her eyes narrowing in on me.
Drag looks casually over his shoulder. “One of the Rejects’ bitches wanted to tag along.” He looks away from me again.
The other members of the Rejects are getting restless, which means that the other Savages are too. It seems like everyone is waiting, itchy to make the first move. I’m guessing that the Rejects turning up like this is a massive no-no and not something they would normally do, hence why the Savages are looking severely unimpressed and ready to shoot every single one of us here.
The Savages know that something isn’t right, and the Rejects clearly think that they’re not going to win these women over. Looking at them all, I can see that each member of the Rejects has their hand discreetly at their hip, or just inside of their cut.
The Savages are a lot more obvious, and each one of the women has their gun aimed at a different member of the Rejects. Whatever is going to go down needs to happen soon, because this whole thing looks like it’s going to implode any second. I seriously hope that Drag has a better plan than just trying to schmooze this woman, or we are in serious trouble.
“I’m done waiting,” Mikey whispers next to me. “On my count, O’Donnell.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I whisper back, but I know, and he knows, I’ll be going with him regardless. I’d walk through fire for him.
“Stay where you are,” Butcher hisses to us. “I told you, Drag’s got this.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Mikey says back, his gaze glued on the windshield and the group of people just beyond it. “Seems like they’re playing with us, buying time until they can cut us all down.”
“Trust me, brother. This bitch is crazy, even crazier than we first knew. Now stay the fuck in your seat.” Butcher is still whispering, his gaze still outside and on Drag, but he’s getting pissed off at Mikey’s obstinance.
“Give it another minute,” I say to Mikey, my hand reaching out to touch him. I place it on his thigh, the heat of his anger burning through his jeans and scorching m
y palm. “Please.”
He grunts his reply but doesn’t actually acknowledge me. Regardless, he stays in his seat, which is good. Butcher looks anxious too, but true to his usual form, Drag doesn’t.
“Look,” Drag says, staying by his bike. “Let’s just do the trade and then we’ll be on our way.” He stamps out his cigarette and glances at Nitro. “Unless, of course, you’re not interested in trading anymore. In which case me and my brothers will be movin’ on. You’re not the only one around these parts with things to trade.”
He turns his back on Aife and the other women, but she holds up her hand. “Wait,” she says, and of course Drag does.
His smile widens and he turns around, taking a sly look over to his right, where the bulk of his men are. “Well, all right then, darlin’, sounds like you’re comin’ around. I’ll get my boys here to unload the supplies for you and if you can get these lovely ladies of yours to bring out what you owe us, then we’ll be on our way.”
She doesn’t look happy, at all. Her pretty face is twisted in annoyance and disgust for Drag and his men. But she’s also buying into the façade and whatever Drag is promising in his trade. I’m guessing that whatever it is, the Savages really want it.
“Fine,” she replies. She nods to three of the closest women and then all of them turn away from the Rejects and start toward the cave again. She says something to the other Savages, something I can’t understand, like a made-up language of some sort, and they all nod in reply to her.
“Aife?” Drag calls to the woman and she stops walking and glances over her shoulder. He smiles at her. “I’m still willing to trade my services too, darlin’.”
She eyes him up and down and then nods. “Leave your gun outside.”
Drag reaches into his cut and pulls out a handgun and gives it to Nitro. “You got this shit handled, brother?” he asks.
“Of course,” Nitro says, sweat glistening on his brow.
Drag swaggers toward Aife, and then five of them enter the cave: Aife, Drag, and three of the Savages. Any normal person would be worried about going in there alone with these women, but not Drag.
The women outside stay with their guns aimed at the Rejects, and the Rejects stay on guard with their glares directed at the women.
“All right, brothers, let’s get unloaded,” Nitro says, turning to look at the other Rejects.
None of them look happy to be taking orders from him, and they look to each other as if deciding if they should listen to him or not.
Nitro does not look happy about their lack of motivation. “I wasn’t fucking asking,” he yells, and his gaze falls to our truck.
The other men still haven’t moved, and now I’m getting really nervous. Mikey’s leg is bouncing up and down next to me, and I want to tell him to stop but I can’t find my voice. Eventually, Mikey speaks.
“He’s going to screw us over,” Mikey says, finally taking his gaze away from what’s happening outside and looking toward me. “I bet they’re trading us!”
“No, Mikey, no,” I murmur, looking between the outside and then back to Mikey because he’s right. That’s exactly what it looks like he’s done. I look over at Butcher, who’s shaking his head and laughing quietly. When I lift my gun and aim it at him, it does little to deter him in laughing.
“Stop it!” I snap. “Stop laughing right now!” My blood is pumping too fast and making me feel dizzy and sick, and I wonder how I could have been so stupid to believe that they would help us.
Odds of survival? Ten percent.
Shit.
Butcher drags his only hand down his face, and in a move that’s too quick for me to stop, he slaps the gun from my hand and snatches it up in one quick move. I flinch and squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the shot to ring out, but it doesn’t come. When I open my eyes I see Butcher staring at me with a not-so-impressed look on his face.
“Don’t ever aim a fuckin’ gun at me, bitch,” he snarls out. “Not unless you intend to use it. Prez is just going to get himself some pussy is all. Now chill, both of you.”
“I know that!” I say, my cheeks feeling hot. “But he said—”
“He’s just tradin’ his dick to buy us some time. Drag never wastes good pussy, and Aife there, she’s got good pussy.” Butcher shakes his head with a frown and then looks back out the window. “You ready?” he says. “I hope so.”
I barely have time to ask Mikey if he’s ready when Butcher is opening his door with his one good arm and climbing out. All the Savages’ guns swiftly swivel to him, and that’s all it takes—that one split second—for the Rejects to make their move. In something that’s half brilliance and half stupidity, the Rejects pounce on the Savages, slamming them to the ground and aiming their own guns at their foreheads.
The Savages never stood a chance. I hate to admit it because I’m a woman, but the Rejects just had the pure physical strength over the Savages. One of the women tries to make a run for it, her long dark plait swinging across her back as she runs, but Nitro catches up and grabs her before slamming a large serrated knife into her back, right between the shoulder blades, and she falls to the ground, giving a breathy sigh of both pain and release before she even makes it ten steps. He pulls out his knife and then jams it into the side of her head to stop her from coming back for seconds, and then he gets up from his knees before wiping his knife along his jeans to clean off the blood.
It’s over in less than a minute. And I have to admit it…
“I’m a little underwhelmed,” I admit as Mikey finally opens the door and climbs out of the truck and I follow. “They said that the Savages were crazy, but this was…”
“Easy,” Mikey says finishing off my sentence, his eyes narrowed around us at the Savage women being gagged and strung up like pigs. I can’t say I’m in favor of them being tied up like that, but that’s only because I’m still seeing these women as humans instead of the monsters that they really are. I have to keep reminding myself of what they do, and what they may have already done to Phil. That makes them seem a little less human.
“What are you going to do with them?” I ask Butcher.
He looks down at me, and the darkness pooled in his eyes makes my stomach hurt. “Whatever we want,” he replies coldly.
I look away from him, not wanting to see the evil in him anymore. I’ve never longed to be back in Haven as much as I do right now. We walk around to the front of the truck. I’m still holding my rifle tightly, though I left my death stick in the truck. Something isn’t sitting right with me, but I don’t know what. However, I haven’t survived this long without trusting my instincts.
“I don’t like this,” I say.
“It was almost too easy,” Butcher says with a scowl. He’s holding a Beretta 92, and he looks comfortable as hell and itching to use it.
A gunshot sounds out loudly from inside the cave, sparking us all to life and cutting off our words. Butcher moves swiftly forward, with Mikey and I following, all three of us keeping our gazes on the cave entrance
Chapter Forty
Seconds that feel like hours pass, and then Aife comes out of the cave with her gun tight to Drag’s head. His smirk has gone, and a trickle of blood is by his eyebrow. Nitro aims his gun at Aife, but before he can speak, three more guns are aimed at his.
More and more Savages come from between the trees. Not twenty, or thirty, or even forty. There’s at least fifty, that I can see, probably more. And all of a sudden I get why the Savages are the dangerous ones here, and not us. They’re intelligent, and sick, twisted beyond comprehension and unpredictable. They saw exactly what was going down, and they let us act like the fools we were.
“What’s going on?” Nitro asks.
Butcher is already moving forward, his gun aimed at Aife too, though she seems unconcerned by the fact.
“Drag, brother?” Butcher says, and Drag looks at him.
“We were played, brother,” Drag replies. “Just fuckin’ shoot her,” he grits out angrily, seemingly unconce
rned about his own imminent death. “Kill the bitch!”
Butcher cocks his gun but Nitro turns to him in panic. “No, don’t! They’ll kill him.”
“I’m ready to meet Hades. I’m good with that. Now shoot this bitch!” Drag says, to both men.
Aife slams the butt of her gun against Drag’s temple again, and fresh blood dribbles down the side of his head. Aife leans in close and then she licks up the side of his head, drawing the blood into her mouth. When she reaches the cut on Drag’s head she places a soft kiss there and then turns to look at us all. Blood is smeared across her lips and jaw—not that she seems to care, of course.
“A lesson you need to learn,” she says. “You are not in charge here. We are. Drop your guns or I kill this man, and then we kill you all regardless.”
None of the Rejects listen to her, their guns staying trained on her regardless of the request, though she doesn’t seem perturbed by it. Most of the Savages have come out from the trees now and they move closer to the Rejects, standing at least three women to each man. I see movement behind us, and when I look I see that we’re under watch as well.
I look at Butcher, seeing him almost counting the odds and realizing how outnumbered they actually are, but still no one relents. We’re at a stalemate and I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen next. The Savages that the Rejects strung up are still on the ground, their expressions blank.
Aife laughs. The sound is like nails down a blackboard and my attention goes back to her. “I can see that this must be hard for you—big strong men like you taking orders from women. So let me make this clear so that there is no mistaking what is going to happen next and what I expect of you.” She runs her hand through Drag’s hair before gripping it tightly in her palm.
“You know how I like it, Aife,” Drag laughs. “That’s right, baby, show me what you’re made of,” he mocks.
Aife smiles and then she leans in to his neck, kissing slowly up his throat and nuzzling her nose into his neck. She reaches further up, taking a deep breath of him, and then Drag’s smile falls and he’s screaming, his voice echoing through the trees. The Rejects start to move forward, but the Savages fire off a couple of rounds, dropping the men to the ground.
The Dead Saga (Book 5): Odium V Page 27