The Undead World (Book 8): The Apocalypse Executioner

by Peter Meredith

  “They’re here,” she had said.

  Grey, who was sitting against his cell wall, nodded without looking up. A languid depression had smote all of them, including Grey which had been a surprise to Sadie, however at the mention of the trucks, his hands had balled into fists.

  “Play the game, Sadie. Escape and evade. Do what you have to do to survive and, yes that means take the rapes, right up until you can get that chain around some guy’s throat, then kill without mercy.”

  The others in the prison all nodded. Besides the three remaining valley soldiers, there were seven cage fighters, all of whom were raggedy and weak. She didn’t recognize a single one; few had been there even a month.

  That was the extent of the conversation for the last seven hours since Sergeant Hendricks had been murdered. What else was there to say?

  Besides being able to fulfill Grey’s wish for her to escape, Sadie’s one hope was that the traders would leave before Grey was killed. She didn’t know if she’d be able to live through that. A part of her guessed that her heart would simply give out.

  When her father finally dared to show his face in the prison, she knew she would get her wish. He would want to get one last dig in before she was shipped off. That was his way. That had always been his way.

  “My daughter, you have embarrassed me for the last time,” he said to her. The other prisoners kept silent and well back from the bars. The River King had come with four guards, and if their impressive size and ugly demeanor wasn’t enough they each were armed with tasers and baseball bats. No one bothered to test their resolve with spit or curses.

  “You must have me mixed up with someone else, your Highness. My father is dead, or soon will be.”

  He smiled, but it was sour and angry. “One of us will be dead soon, but knowing your temper, it’s going to be you. And I wish I could tell you that I’ll be sad when I hear the news, but that’s just not likely. Not with the way you’ve treated me.”

  “The way I’ve treated you!” she shouted, showing some of her vaunted temper. She looked ready to tear down the bars between them and her head felt as though it was filled with nitroglycerine, needing only another jolt before it exploded.

  Unruffled by the outburst, he regarded her calmly and said with casual serenity: “Yes. But I have not come to argue. I’ve come to say goodbye. Do you yourself a favor and treat your new master better than you treated me.”

  “I’ll give him everything he deserves,” she answered in a quiet voice. Grey had caught her eye and had glared her into behaving. She could practically read his thoughts: Play the game, Sadie. Escape and evade. Do what you have to do to survive.

  The River King caught the look and smiled, this one a greasy smile that was an act that fooled no one. “I’m glad she listens to you, Grey. Hopefully you’ve taught her more manners than she displays in my presence.”

  He shrugged. “Her manners are fine when her life isn’t being threatened, but I can’t take any credit. Neil Martin is the only father-figure she ever had or ever needed.”

  A scowl momentarily replaced the greasy smile. “Touché. With comments like that I don’t know if I should give you the gift I had brought.” He waved to a man who had lingered by the door. He came forward with a brown bag. “I brought you a sandwich and some chips. You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

  “For what? Wait, don’t bother lying. You’re betting on me to what? Take a hundred and ten lashes?”

  The greasy smile was back. “Something like that.”

  “Well, thanks,” Grey said, reaching through the bars and taking the bag. “But I don’t think a lash is what is going to kill me.”

  “Really? Are you expecting some sort of rescue? That would be something since no one knows you’re here. And yet…stranger things have happened. It’s why I’ve ordered extra guards on both banks of the river and the fence line. And I have three radio scanners going at all times. And, just in case, as an extra precaution, until you die, I’m bringing in the bridge every night.”

  Grey’s face had gone tighter and tighter as the River King spoke; still he managed a smile as he said: “A squad of my men could tear this place up.”

  “A squad would be a nuisance if they were here, but they’re not so it’s just a lot of talk, which, sadly I don’t have time for. Don’t forget to eat up.” He left without looking at Sadie or her extended middle fingers which was all the goodbyes she was going to give him.

  “Do you really think we’re going to get rescued?” one of the remaining soldiers asked.

  Grey’s answer was a simple: “No, there’s very little chance. I was just giving him a false front. He’s going to bet big that I can last a hundred lashes, but I’m going to see that I don’t. I want to be as weak as possible going in. From now until then, I won’t eat, sleep or drink.”

  That he had, in essence, just signaled he was surrendering, cast a gloom over the room. Silence held sway for a few minutes until one of the cage-fighters asked: “If you ain’t gonna eat it, can I have that sam-ich?”

  The captain glanced over at his soldiers and offered them the sandwich but they were both white-faced with hollow haunted eyes. One of them would be dead in five hours and the other in seventeen.

  “It’s yours,” Grey said to the fighter. The words were quiet and lackluster. He threw the bag without any strength. It fell short and the fighter had to stretch out a skinny arm to snag it.

  “What happened to escape and evade,” Sadie asked trying to make her voice sound tough, trying not to cry. “What happened to making it back to the Valley? And what about Deanna?”

  He dropped his chin. “She’ll understand. If she knew there was no other way, she’d want me to go quickly.”

  “Yeah,” Sadie said. The conversation ended and nothing more was said as the gloomy afternoon faded into a dark evening. It wasn’t until the traders came with chains and a neck collar that she spoke again and the one word was: “Bye.”

  He only nodded.

  She was pulled along by her chains down to the pontoon bridge, where she saw the extra guards patrolling. There had to be fifty of them within sight, each carefully eyeing the zombies floating by. Sadie crossed the bridge, hoping that at any moment twin explosions, one behind her and one in front, would cut her section of the bridge and she would just float away to be rescued by Jillybean or Neil or soldiers from the Valley. She even slowed her pace, pulling back on her chains to give the explosions a chance to occur.

  But none did and the shock that none did brought tears streaming out of her eyes. Was she truly alone? Was she really going to be sold into slavery? The answer seemed to be a resounding yes as her foot touched the east bank of the Mississippi and she saw five trucks arranged in an angular circle. A small mob of people stood waiting for her. They crowded around and stared with bright eyes at her as she was brought into their midst.

  “So we got a celebrity with us,” the lead trader said. He was tall and other than the fortune in diamonds he wore, was average in appearance—neither handsome nor ugly, neither muscular nor skinny. He really only stood out because of the diamonds. The studs, three in each ear, were huge and gaudy and probably real, as were the diamonds he wore in his many rings and on the rather feminine necklaces draped about his neck.

  “I’m no one,” Sadie said, and the meekness in her own voice surprised even her. Tears were one thing. They came from a place of fear, yes but also frustration and burning anger, but the whipped quality of her own voice was hard to explain.

  “Wrong, sweetheart, you’re my star attraction. You’re the River King’s daughter. Who wouldn’t want to fuck the River King’s daughter? I’ll have them lined up five deep.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to sell me?” The idea of being used in such an appalling manner made her suddenly want to beg to be sold to one man. A single man would get tired. If she was being used as a rental, the torture would never end. Day after day, hour after hour, until she was diseased and all used up and no one woul
d give a nickel for her.

  Would they kill her then? Or would they let her go to wander the earth, forever alone, because who would want her? She wouldn’t wander far, only to the nearest tree, where she would hang herself.

  “Oh, I will eventually. Come inside where it’s warm. My name is Diamond Dave. While you’re with me, you will do everything I ask, exactly when I ask it, or I’ll give you a few zaps with the machine. Trust me, you won’t like it much. Do you know what electroshock therapy is?” She’d been following him up what was essentially a gang plank, but now she stopped and stared in horrified wonder at Diamond Dave. He seemed to tower over, loom in fact like a hungry giant.

  The look on her face caused him to chuckle. “Yeah, I get that a lot and yet people still test me. It’s almost like some of you bitches almost want your brain fried. Do you, Sadie?”

  “I don’t I swear,” she said, speaking quickly.

  He beamed down at her as if he were a benevolent god. “That’s good, because I won’t hesitate to punish you for being bad. What I like most about the machine is that it won’t mark you up a bit, but it slowly turns you into a vegetable. You see, I really don’t need you to think all that much to do your job.”

  She could only nod and blink back the tears.

  “Would you like to see the machine?” Before she could say anything, he held up a finger. “The answer is yes by the way.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.”

  The machine was set in a corner of the truck on the first floor. To Sadie, it looked like an electric chair and it smelled of old urine and shit. She felt like throwing up.

  Diamond Dave put a kind hand on her shoulder. “Just lube up, make the men happy and you’ll never have to see it again.”

  Once more she said: “Yes, sir,” which he seemed to appreciate.

  “That’s the right attitude,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. There were six women standing in the narrow hall of the first floor of the truck. A few others were, judging by the grunting and the over-the-top moaning, were working. “Why can’t all of you have that attitude?” he asked of them. The women refused to look up or say anything besides: “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmm, that’s a little better, I guess. Here you are, Sadie. This is going to be your home.” He acted as if she had just won a prize. He smiled expansively as he showed her the stall. It was just large enough to fit a twin-sized mattress. Three feet above a shady-looking pillow was a cabinet bolted to the back wall.

  “You’ll put your stuff in here, when you get stuff that is. What size are you? A zero? A one? Here, take off your clothes. Let me see what I’m dealing with.” She hesitated, causing him to snort. “Please. In case the diamonds didn’t give it away, I’m gay and so are my men. It keeps everything on a business-like foundation.”

  The fact that he was gay shocked Sadie into speech. “If you’re gay, how can you do this? How can you treat women like this?”

  She could tell that the question had crossed into bad territory by the way he shot an eyebrow up. “Sweetie, are you really asking me how I can go about making a living in this horrible new world? Have you been living under a fucking rock? People do what they have to do, nowadays, and for you that means pleasing men and pleasing me.”

  Another: “Yes, sir,” didn’t have the same effect as the first two and she got the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t work again. Diamond Dave was into punishments rather than into rewards. He was also into bondage and chained her iron collar to a ringbolt attached to the side of the wall.

  “The River King has only stipulated that you’re not to be used until we leave the environs of Cape Girardeau, which means you get the next couple of days off until we get to Cincinnati. And he also mentioned that if you escape before New York that I can kiss my balls goodbye. So don’t bother asking about having any freedoms. You’ll get the pot brought to you once every two hours. After Cincinnati, we’ll see if you’ve earned any favors.”

  He turned to go, but she asked a question. “When will we be leaving?” As much as she didn’t want to get on with this new life of hers, she didn’t know if she could take hearing another of her friends being killed and she got the feeling that the screams would carry across the water.

  “We leave when I say we leave,” he answered, his eyes boring hard into her.

  She dropped her head until he left and then she sat on her mattress and cried. At nine o’clock, Private Hill was skinned alive with the same leather whip that had killed countless others. Sadie could hear his screams as clear as day.

  Chapter 37

  Jillybean

  As Private Hill was being killed, Jillybean sat under the pontoon wrapped in three sweaters, a heavy coat and a poncho. She wore gloves but that was mostly because of the intense heat of the welding torch in her hands. The weather had improved slightly. It was no longer raining and that made all the difference.

  As she stared at the blank metal, her mind dwelled on creating a proper flow of water to the propellers. Simply burning holes in the metal, making it resemble a cheese grater, did not seem as though it was the optimum method.

  Why not? Ipes asked. Do you think it’ll create drag? It can’t be worse than the V itself.

  “That’s what you think. The V planes the water away, while the holes will catch it. Hmmm, what do you think about wide slits both above and below the water line? Remember, we do have airflow to consider as well.”

  You’re over-thinking this. We have three hundred miles to go. Just do enough to get us there before the sun comes up.

  The necessity for speed decided Jillybean, who clunked down the faceplate, sparked her torch and began work on three horizontal slits per side. For her it was a piece of cake and she let her mind wander. It didn’t go to dolls or tea sets or boys, it began building a detailed layout of the River King’s base.

  She recreated the entire thing in a three-D image in her mind. And for her that was also a piece of cake. What wasn’t, was guessing what had changed. Where was the new pontoon bridge? Where had the defenses been bolstered? Where had they been left the same? Had they changed the location of the prison? Had they kept it but added extra layers of security?

  Unfortunately, she could imagine a great deal, in fact far more than the entire combined intellect of the River King and all his men. She imagined so much that it had her stomach in knots. The defenses that she could have created could not be overcome by the resources and the personnel—namely Neil—at her disposal.

  She paused for a moment, flipped up her mask and stared at her work without really seeing it. “I’ll need to know the true situation, preferably in real time. I will also need a distraction or two.”

  One thing was certain, she wasn’t going to be able to ghost on and off the base as she had before. Thus the distractions. “Yes, Ipes, I’ll need more than one. I’ll need them coming and going. I’ll need them running about not knowing where to turn. Which means I’m going to need more stuff.”

  Oh boy. I can already tell I’m not going to like this.

  “You know, that’s a mighty fine impersonation of Neil. See if you can do him fretting over…”

  Neil suddenly stuck his head beneath the boat. “Did you call me? I thought I heard my name.”

  “No, I said ‘meal.’ I’m getting hungry, but I can eat on the boat, which is almost done by the way. Five minutes and then we can get going to St Louis.”

  “Oh boy,” he said slowly, sounding just like Ipes had. “What’s in St Louis? Nothing good, no doubt.”

  Ipes snorted and Jillybean knocked him with her elbow. “I think lots of stuff is in St Louis and lots of stuff I need, and probably it’s good too. Or it’s good that we’ll find the good stuff there. You know, as much as I like small town hardware stores, the big city is where you need to go to get cool exotic stuff like drones.”

  Neil’s one remaining eyebrow shot so high up it almost got lost in his hair. “Drones? I knew I wasn’t going to like this. Where are we going to get drones in St Louis and w
hy could we possibly need them?”

  “For my plan, of course.” That seemed so obvious she felt a little foolish even saying it.

  “And what is your plan?”

  She looked at him as if he were crazy, while Ipes rolled his eyes which Jillybean rightly interpreted as: Can you believe this guy? “I haven’t thought of the plan, yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to need drones. Drones is what means things without people in them but what you steer from far away.”

  “Right, I knew that. I thought you meant military style drones. You know the kind that carry bombs.”

  “Oh, mine will have bombs and cameras. That’s why we have to go to St Louis. So, if you can get all our stuff on board, I’ll finish here.”

  He left, muttering something but all she caught was the word “mule,” which she didn’t understand since the word didn’t go with anything she had been saying. Ipes postulated that as Neil was old it meant that he was going senile and may have mistaken Ipes for a mule.

  Or he was being insulting. You should tell him that going to St Louis wasn’t my plan. My plan was to find someplace warm and dry and let the grown-ups work things out.

  His plan was to be a chicken and it wasn’t a bad plan as far as Jillybean was concerned. She was tired of saving people and tired of shooting guns and she was tired of bad guys. They were like a disease and she didn’t want to be anywhere near them.

  But she had Sadie to think about. And Captain Grey, too, but it was mostly the goth-girl, her apocalypse sister, that drove Jillybean on.

  The little girl finished her welding and was about to set aside the equipment, thinking she wasn’t going to need it anymore, but then her eyes caught sight of a cement tube jutting from the bank of the river. Water gushed from it in torrents, and something clicked in her mind, but before she knew what it was, the river itself grabbed her attention.