The Undead World (Book 8): The Apocalypse Executioner

by Peter Meredith

  They left Fred and his little band of followers whispering behind their hands and scooted down from the wall. When they were through the gate, Neil only had to raise his one remaining eyebrow to get Sadie talking. “She says she knows where Jillybean is, but she won’t talk until she’s been bought free and clear.”

  “Oh Jeez. How much?” When her smile grew tight, Neil stopped her. “How much?”

  Valley people were walking by and so Sadie smiled and waved and refused to answer the question while they were within earshot. “Three thousand,” she whispered when they were alone on the highway.

  “Oh, jeez,” he said again as he turned away. He stood staring at one of the most beautiful mountain scenes on the planet. The aspens had turned to gold and the valley shimmered in the cool light of day. He didn’t even notice. His mind was elsewhere, trying to balance his responsibilities. On one hand, he had the entire valley to think of and on the other he had a little girl that he had helped to warp into something sad and horrific.

  Undoubtedly the girl could be a wonderful asset to the community…but three thousand, just for some possibly dated and useless information, seemed nuts. “Maybe I can talk them down,” he said to Sadie.

  “Or maybe you can convince the lady to tell us, without having to buy her. I mean, I’d love to buy her and all of them, I just know we don’t have the money for it.”

  “We don’t have money for anything,” Neil grunted. They made their way to the last truck and were both taken back to find the leader of the traders, Maris standing at the bottom of the ramp. He was practically giddy. Neil thought the wet stump of a stogey was the perfect complement to his shit-eating grin.

  “So, Mister High and Mighty is looking to make a substantial purchase. A woman doesn’t come cheap, no not at all, right Lou?”

  Another of the traders leaned against the side of the truck, his hand on the butt of a pistol, holstered at his hip. He wore the same sort of ugly grin as Maris, only his was for Sadie. She glared right back.

  Neil stepped between them. “Actually, I was hoping just to talk to one of your ladies.”

  “Talk?” Maris laughed. Lou’s grin widened as his boss went on through his chuckles, “My women aren’t for talking to, they’re for screwing. The standard rental is ten for half hour, but the results are guaranteed.”

  “I just have a question for her.”

  “And it will cost you ten in order to ask it. This isn’t a difficult concept. You have to pay to play.”

  Much to his embarrassment, Neil was forced to count out ten brass 9 mm rounds and drop them in Maris’ open palm. “Have fun in there,” Maris chortled. “Don’t forget protection.” Lou brayed over the top laughter at this. Neil ignored them and went up the ramp with Sadie following. Maris grabbed her hand. “If you wanna go in, you gotta pay. Remember, threesomes are extra.”

  Although Neil didn’t see it as all that funny, Lou had tears in his eyes as he laughed. “No thanks,” Sadie said, glaring and wiping her hand on her black jeans. She went to stand by the side of the truck where her very presence kept some of the Valley men from heading down.

  The soldiers of the Valley were some of the most honorable men left in the country, but there was a ten to one ratio of men to women in Estes and so it was somewhat understandable that the slave truck was already rocking as Neil went in.

  The interior was so dim that he stopped just inside the door, blinking, trying to peer around. “Don’t be shy, sweetie,” a voice cooed in his right ear as someone took his deformed left hand—the hand was dropped a second later with a little gasp.

  The cooing voice spoke again: “She’s got a problem with you, but I like a man with scars.”

  “I do too,” the woman on his left said, quickly. Finally, Neil’s eyes adjusted to the sad display of humanity. Curtains were drawn on four of the stalls leaving six very desperate women standing just inside the aisle wearing very revealing lingerie. Neil wasn’t turned on in the least.

  The desperation in their eyes was too great. This desperation plus the partially healed bruises made him think that the women were on some sort of quota system and that there would be beatings if they didn’t hit their number of screws.

  It broke his heart to disentangle himself from the women. “Sorry, sorry,” he said over and over again until he reached the ladder in back. Its rungs were as grimy as everything else and his sadness was offset by a quick undulating wave of nausea.

  He bit back on it and went up to the second level where the ceiling was even lower. The second floor was even more disheartening than the first. The women were older, more exhausted, and uglier. The makeup they wore looked to have been painted on with a roller and the fear in their eyes was deep.

  Probably for these reasons, the light could only be described as scant. “Excuse me?” Neil said to the eight women doing their level best to appear sexy—and failing. “Which one of you knows Jillybean?”

  “That’s me!” one said, excitedly, raising a hand. Instead of grousing at their ill luck, the other women drew closer as Neil pushed down the aisle. To them this was a very interesting change of pace to their miserable days.

  The woman who had raised her hand was thirty-something with long brown hair that she streamed down the sides of her face, detracting rather than enhancing her looks. Her eyes were very brown, like the dark muck at the bottom of a slow-moving river. The tears stood out in them like wet crystals.

  Just as obvious to Neil was the fresh, cherry-red handprint on her left cheek and the duller purplish bruises on her arm. Despite all of this, she was eager. “I know the little girl. Her name was Jillybean and she was this tall.” The woman put her hand next to her ribcage. “And she had all this brown hair…like she never brushed it or anything. And she’s skinny. Her face is very skinny. It makes her eyes almost bulge out.”

  “What color are her eyes?” Neil asked.

  Without hesitation, she answered: “Blue! A very pretty blue.” The woman waited for the next question, her hands quivering in front of her.

  “And where did you see her?” This doused her excitement. She leaned back away from Neil, folding her arms in front of her chest.

  “I’ll tell you that only once I’m out of here. You see, I know who she is. I know that she might be valuable to the people here in Colorado and that means what I know is valuable. And I think it’s valuable information to other people as well. Maris tried to beat it out of me a few minutes ago, but I wouldn’t talk. Nothing is free anymore. That’s what I’ve learned since all this started. Everything has its price and freedom is my price.”

  Her face was like stone. Her lips defiantly tight as if no force on earth could pry the needed words from them. Neil tried on his warmest, most endearing, pleading smile. He even clasped his hands in front of her as he begged: “Please. I just want to save a little girl’s life. I owe it to her.”

  The woman shook her head. “The price is nonnegotiable. Take it or leave it.”

  Neil tried once more, but she remained obstinate and refused to budge. This left him with the terrible choice of either forking over basically six months’ worth of tax revenue or possibly letting a little girl perish in the coming winter or be scooped up by one of the roving bands of slavers that were terrorizing the empty parts of the country.

  “She won’t talk,” Neil whispered to Sadie, keeping his mouth covered and his back to Maris and Lou. “And I don’t know what to do. It’s so much money and we’re struggling already. If something happened, like an attack or something, we’d be screwed.”

  “And if something happens to Jillybean?” Sadie countered. “Personally, I think the answer is easy. What would Jillybean do if your positions were reversed?”

  A sad grin bent Neil’s mouth. “Knowing her, she’d probably blow something up. Why am I saying probably? She definitely would. But I can’t do that. I have other responsibilities.”

  “I know she’s worth it and so do you. I say we do it. I say you figure out how you’re going t
o haggle Maris down. Three thousand is crazy. You saw that woman. She can’t be worth three thousand.”

  Three minutes later Maris agreed. “Lou here, misspoke. Gayle’s price is actually four thousand.” He let Neil and Sadie gag on that for a few seconds before he added: “Situations change. As we all know, information can be very valuable, especially information concerning Jillybean. Don’t pretend the name isn’t infamous in certain circles. I know some of the old members of the Azael would pay a thousand for her head.”

  “I could do a thousand,” Neil said, speaking rapidly. “I mean, Gayle may not have up to date info. She looks like she’s been with you for a while. I may be buying nothing but a wild goose chase.”

  “There is that,” Maris allowed. “I’ll knock off three hundred. You forget, she still has value as a whore and as a final sale to some lonely farmer or hard-up soldier who’ll take what he can get.”

  The idea of selling another human being was repulsive to Neil and it got him fired up. “Oh, please. We both know you’re not making much off of her and who is going to pay top dollar for a woman who could be swimming in disease?”

  “Another fine point. I’ll knock off two hundred more. So that’s thirty-five hundred. Would you like her as is or washed and waxed?”

  Neil held up what used to be a prissy hand, now it was mangled and eye-catching. “I don’t think so. If you ask me, a thousand looks like a poor investment. And tell me, which of these former lords of the Azael would be willing to pony up thirty-five hundred for a rumor? Not one, I bet.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Maris said. “But if they’ll pay a thousand for her head, I might get five hundred on a sighting. And sure, Gayle was able to withstand a few measly slaps, but she’ll cave when I start breaking her toes. Broken toes won’t stop her from sucking a dick right?”

  Next to Neil, Sadie was a mountain of rage. Her hand slid behind her back for the Bowie, but this time Lou was armed and pulled his pistol halfway from its holster, stopping her.

  “And here’s another thing. You had me by the short and curlies earlier, Neil. I’ll admit that was hard bargaining on your part, but now our roles are reversed. You want this girl, badly. All this talk of yours cements that in my mind. You’ll pay what I’m asking, I’m sure of it.” He turned and began walking back to the truck. Over his shoulder, he added: “Come back when you have my money—thirty-five hundred, not a bullet less.”

  Lou slid the pistol back in place. “Ta-ta, love. I wouldn’t come back here after hours, snooping around or you’ll end up in that truck for good.” With a grin firmly fixed on his face, he flipped Sadie off and then marched after Maris.

  Sadie gave him both barrels right back. “What are you going to do?” she asked when Lou was out of sight.

  “I don’t know. I should talk to the commission and see what they have to say.”

  “What?” Sadie said, spinning Neil around to face her. “You know precisely what Fred Trigg will say. He may not have the votes to overrule you, but he’ll definitely spread it around that you wasted all that money on just one woman. Here’s what I think: if you go to the commission, it’s your way of getting yourself off the hook and not having to make a tough decision.”

  She was right, of course. If he went to them, he’d be lucky to get two votes. Deanna knew and cared for Jillybean, however she was very pregnant and very worried about the future. Even Captain Grey could go either way. His men were the ones who’d have to do any fighting in the future and a day didn’t go by without him grumbling about the lack of weapons training.

  That left only Veronica Hennessy on his side. She would vote to release anyone stuck in Gayle’s place. As well, she had always liked Jillybean.

  Having one vote on his side would make it so much easier to say no, so much easier to avoid the hard choice. “Alright. We’ll buy her.”

  Chapter 6

  Neil Martin

  “We’ll buy her, but I have to say something to the council. I’m not king. I will tell them what I’m going to do, demand a count and unless it’s six to zero, I’m going to buy her and hope to God she knows something more than just Jillybean’s name and her description.”

  The way Gayle had answered the questions, he knew in his heart that she had been in Jillybean’s presence. The only question was how long ago had it been? Was Jillybean still deep in Missouri, looking for Ipes? Or had she moved on, somewhere even further away and if so what would he do? Would he mount an expedition? Would he send Sadie alone as he had before?

  The moment Sadie had left on her last trek across the country in search of Jillybean, he wished he hadn’t given the order. As strong and capable as Sadie was, she was still just a kid. Still so vulnerable and still too stubborn for her own good. And nothing had changed. Wherever Jillybean was, Sadie would insist on going to get her, even if it meant going alone. There wouldn’t even be a discussion—there would only be an argument that Neil would lose.

  Neil sent her after Deanna, who was preparing to move the meat they had traded to the Rangers. Fred and Grey were still on the wall, joined by a few dozen others waiting their turn to go down to the traders. They all chatted freely and happily, sounding like children on a field trip to the zoo.

  Since he didn’t like ladders or heights, or really even fences or walls, he waved the members of the council down.

  “Meeting back at the hotel in twenty minutes…it’s a voting meeting and I won’t delay a vote on account of tardiness.” Before Fred could begin to whine, Neil held up the mangled hand—he felt it carried more weight when he used the left rather than the right. People generally couldn’t take their eyes off it, causing them to falter.

  Fred was no exception and before he could recover, Neil stalked off to where he had leaned his bike against a tree further up the road. As governor, he could have driven a Humvee and not have anyone say a thing, but he chose the garish, red Schwinn in order to set an example. Just then, it was a particular regret. It was six long miles back to the Stanley Hotel, and at least half of those miles were a grueling uphill slog. At eight thousand feet above sea level, the air was thin and it wasn’t long before Neil was gasping.

  Within minutes he was passed by Fred and, embarrassingly enough, by Captain Grey and Deanna, who had to be careful not to knock her baby bump against the handle bars. He ended up being the last one to arrive at his own meeting. Perhaps worse, he came in out of breath and sweating like it was a summer’s day.

  Since he wasn’t going to put up with a long discussion, he kept his helmet firmly fixed to his head as he explained how he wanted to drain the treasury and, in effect, hamstring the military. He expected an uproar, but instead got silence.

  The silence was strange. Like poker players, the members of the commission looked back and forth at each other out of the corner of their eyes. They had been voted into their positions and, yes each had been voted in to office by some group: farmers, hunters, soldiers, women, etc, but it was still unnerving to Neil that they were already playing politics after only four months.

  The silence spun out for so long that Neil began to blather on, taking both sides as if he was trying to convince himself instead of them. Finally, Fred stood as was customary when making an official vote and said: “I think this is an easy no. What you’re taking from the tax payers is equivalent to months of work, and for what?”

  “For saving at least one life,” Veronica answered, jumping up, her eyes boring straight into Fred. “And maybe two if we can find Jillybean in time.”

  That shut Fred up. Deanna began to stand, next, but Captain Grey stopped her. Without looking in Neil’s direction, he said: “He has his one vote. The rest of us don’t have to commit one way or another.”

  Grey’s move was calculated with his constituency in mind. Although the votes of the commission were never supposed to go public, Fred or one of his sycophants had a bad habit of leaking the details to the Valley’s biggest gossips, where the news was guaranteed to spread.

  “You’r
e abstaining?” Fred asked. “Is that even allowed? I mean, he should have to vote so the people can know whose side he’s…” He stopped, realizing that his words implied that he was quite ready to rush out and blab to everyone how the vote went down. “I mean, he should have to vote so the people can know whether or not you have the full confidence of the commission.”

  Neil stood and planted his knuckles on the table. “I don’t need the full confidence of the commission. What I need is one vote and I got it. I think we can be done now.” He yanked open the door and was ready to stride out of the room, but almost fell over Sadie who was listening at the keyhole.

  “Let Maris know.” She left in a sprint, blazing out of the hotel and leaping on her bike almost as if were a stallion. Neil had to restrain himself from following after. He went to his room and looked out over the valley and waited, second-guessing himself endlessly, wondering what sort of repercussions he had unleashed.

  When Jillybean was involved, there were always repercussions and they were usually tragic. He began to pace the small room, but only tracked back and forth three times before he caught sight of Sadie walking her bike next to the now freed slave.

  “Please be good news,” he whispered as he headed down the plush carpeted stairs to his office, where he was surprised to find the entire commission waiting. “I’d prefer this was a private conversation.”

  “Of course you would,” Fred said, “because when we find out that this lady doesn’t know diddly, you’re going to want to lie to us, or should I say massage the message?”

  This was precisely correct, but it wasn’t something he cared to admit to. “Actually, I am worried for her sake. She’s just been released from captivity, and there’s a lot riding on what she tells us. It has to be a bit scary for her.”

  “You could have Deanna talk to her,” Fred suggested. “Or maybe one of the other women in the valley.” By that he meant one of the ex-whores. Deanna glared and muttered something under her breath. “What was that?” Fred asked, as if unaware of how he constantly treated these women as if they were second-class citizens.