by Keri Lake
As much as I’d love to see that town finally succumb to the reality that surrounds its perfect walls, I’m not willing to sacrifice myself for a bunch of psychopath bikers to do it. If Legion gets wind I’ve given anyone access to their precious community, I’ll be staked to a post as a lesson for all.
Red passes something to a young woman, perhaps my age. She pops whatever was given to her into her mouth and makes her way toward one of the bikers who sits off to the side, snacking on a piece of meat. The girl kneels down beside him, her head bowed as she takes his hand. In turn, he sets down the plate, and the two of them pass a guard, who pats the biker on his back as the couple disappears into a long dark tunnel.
The scene curls my lip, reminding me of Damian, and how his little Legion buddies would pat him on the back when I agreed to meet him in the alley, or some other obscure location. If I had to guess, Red gave her Queen Anne’s Lace. In Szolen, it was used as a contraceptive, popular with the younger crowd in particular, and Papa often kept it on hand in the clinic.
At the opposite side of the cave, the women serving the juice file out of the cavern, carrying the watermelons past the guard, and a blossom of hope tingles my chest. I quickly shuffle towards him, but pause on remembering that my journal is somewhere in Rhys’s room.
I shake my head. Sorry, Papa. I can’t pass up the opportunity to run.
Across the cavern, I come to a stop, when the guard throws out an arm that thuds against my chest.
“I’m following the others.” I jerk my head toward the women, who continue through the cavern ahead.
“Not her, Crank.” Red’s voice slithers down my spine, and I turn to find her standing behind me, arms akimbo.
The snarky comeback sits cocked at the back of my mouth, quickly trampled by a flicker of movement and the tromp of boots coming toward me.
Through the cave, Rhys carries two stacked boxes, piled high with vegetables. His eyes are glued to me as he strides through the cavern. The intensity of them is too much, and I look away until he passes.
Behind him is the one Rhys called brother—the one who cupped me the day before. He stops to kiss Red as he passes. Trailing after them is a line of people, wounded, bleeding from cuts, and carrying the welts and bruises of a beating. Every one of them appears to be displaced as they enter the cavern, miserable and broken. Mostly women and only a couple of children. No men.
A young blonde girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, glances up at me, as if she refuses to meet my stare, her dress ragged, torn apart and spattered with blood.
Rigs and three other bikers bring up the rear—all of them carrying supplies and wounds of a fight. Scanning the cavern brings forth a realization I failed to notice yesterday. There are about two women for every man here. As if they’re stockpiling the females.
The sight of them heats my blood, and I cast a glare back at Red, as what was a mass of confusion suddenly comes to light.
The rebels. The ones who’ve been raiding hives, stealing their supplies.
The melon is pulled out of my arms, and I snap my attention to the older woman exchanging it for a bowl of steaming broth, a chunk of meat, and melon juice in a cup.
“For Rhys. Take it to him.”
Anger seethes in my blood, so hot I could unleash hell in this place. Instead, I carry that anger with me through the cave and back to the room where I awakened earlier.
Slamming through the door, I find Rhys standing with his back to me, peeling the leather vest from his shoulders. When he turns, a splotch of red marks an injury that he leans into, as if in pain.
Good.
“Here’s your supper.” The venom coursing through my veins bleeds into my voice as I cross the room to him.
He falls into one of the chairs beside his bed, and waves the food over.
I stand before him and dump the bowl of broth, meat and juice into his lap, tossing the tray to the side, but oddly enough, he doesn’t so much as flinch with the scalding liquid. “I hope you burn in hell, asshole.”
His lips peel back with anger, a sight that brings a smile to my face, until I twist around to find Red standing behind me.
Fury tinges her face, and all I see is a flash of her fist flying toward me.
A dull ache throbs in my jaw, and I lift my hand to rub it. The clink of a chain draws my eyes open, to the cuffs at my wrists, and I roll my head back against a rusted post, which I’m tethered to once more.
Goddamn it.
The flicker of a sconce on the wall allows me to see that this post is thinner, staked down into the gravelly bed of sand.
Beyond the post is a long tunnel with no light at the end—not Rhys’s cavern—and I’m smack in the middle of it, lying in a soft bed of sand. With a frown, I roll over onto my stomach, tugging at the post.
“C’mon, sleeping beauty.” Red’s voice has officially become my least favorite sound in the world.
I roll my eyes and lower my gaze, to see her standing at my feet, keys dangling from her hip. “I really hate you.”
“I’m crushed. Really.” She kneels down beside me, and the second my bound hand grips the keyring, her blade is at my throat. “Piss break. And if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to tell the others that a Rager ran off with you.”
“You’re taking me out of the cave?” The air of disbelief in my voice isn’t feigned. I find it stupid she’d take the chance.
“We go as a group. It’s safer that way.”
“I’m not pissing in front of a bunch of oversexed men. I choose to die of piss poisoning, thanks.”
“It’s only women. There’s a small tinaja where we gather water and bathe.”
I rear back at that, disgusted. “You drink from the same water you bathe in?”
“Unless someone’s sick out here? Yeah. In case you missed it, we don’t have the luxury of showers and cozy bubble-baths.” Lowering the blade, she unlocks the cuffs, releasing my arms. “No one wants to keep you in chains, but if you’re going to pull that bullshit, I’ve got no reason to let you walk around here.”
“Do they give you a cut, or something? What do you get out of enslaving women?”
“I told you before. No one’s a slave here.”
“You drag these women from their hives to … what? Hook up with the men here? I’ve seen it, so don’t tell me you don’t.”
“Every one of these women wants to be here, so watch your fucking mouth. They’re safer here than out there.” She juts out her chin and pushes to her feet. “You’re lucky Rigs found you.” Reaching down to me, she flicks her fingers, but I bat her hand away, clambering to my feet without her help.
“You’re delusional. The only thing Rigs did was transport me from one prison to the next.”
“Gordy isn’t a bad man. Certainly not the worst. But he’ll damn well do whatever he has to for his family. That includes selling young women to men who wouldn’t think twice about cutting out the tongue of a smart-mouth like you.”
I don’t tell her that she’ll have to cut off my legs to keep me from taking off. Instead, I follow her out of the cave, along with four other women, none of whom were in last night’s group.
Once we pass the guard, I glance back to make sure none of the bikers follow and direct my attention toward the light ahead. We breach the end of the tunnel, and my muscles tighten, poised to run.
Outside, Red tips her head back and blows a kiss into the air. I follow the path of it to the man pacing along the rocks with his gun. Hawkeye. Rigs had said the man wouldn’t shoot anything with a patch, or a pussy, but I’ll wait until we’re out of sight, just in case he makes me an exception.
We follow a trail, all of us in single file, with Red bringing up the rear. Through the tall canyons, we reach an area of limestone flanked by stacks of shale. In the center of the path, embedded in the limestone, is a decent-sized pool of water—biggest I’ve ever seen in the mountains, about twenty feet across. Temporary, judging the lines and ridges in the rock.
I gla
nce around, noticing we’re well out of Hawkeye’s sight, while the other girls gather at the edge of the tinaja.
A thump hits my shoulder, as Red comes to a stand beside me, and I look down to accept a canteen and a small clay object that looks like a shell filled with some kind of oil. “C’mon, princess. You can toilet there,” she says, pointing toward a path beyond the pool that’s lined with bushes. “When you’re done, grab some water to take back.”
Perfect.
“What’s this?” I lift the clay bowl, taking in the fragrant scent that fills my nose.
“Jojoba rose oil. Makes ya smell good.”
“Why would I want to smell good for any of you?”
She shrugs, stepping ahead of me. “Don’t use it. I couldn’t care less.”
I’ll grab the water first, then make a run for the mountains. The canteen should last me two days if I conserve it, and hopefully, I’ll find another water source.
As if she’s reading my mind, Red says, “There’s no other water for miles. Make sure you fill it to the brim.”
A threat that’d keep most from running, I suppose.
I’m not most.
Taking a seat beside a brunette, I dip my canteen in the water, watching the bubbles gather at the mouth of it.
“What happened to your arm?”
I lift my gaze just enough to see the brunette is staring down at my wrist and the obvious suicide scar there. “Fell on a knife.”
Her lips stretch to a smile, and she raises the canteen to her mouth for a sip. “Not gonna lie. I thought about it myself.” She nods toward a slightly younger girl with sandy brown hair across the pond, sliding down into the water in nothing but a bra and panties. “That’d leave my sister alone, though.”
Seconds tick as I finish filling the canteen and splash some water on my face. It’s not that I don’t care what the woman is telling me, I do, but my mind is calculating how far I can sprint down that path before Red takes the first shot from her pistol.
I cap the water and cross the strap over my head, readying myself for the dash of my life. “Yeah. Well, if you change your mind, it’s not worth it.”
With a chuckle, she drags a rag along her arms, slipping it beneath her shirt to her armpits. “I wouldn’t. Now that I’m pregnant.”
It’s then I look down to see the bulge sticking out from her tattered shirt—small with her skinny frame, but definitely there. Sick bastards probably impregnated her.
Click. Click. Click.
My muscles steel at the sound of growls in the distance. Approaching. Fast.
I snap my attention toward the oncoming Ragers, barreling toward us down the opposite path.
“Anna!” The woman beside me scrambles to her feet.
I jump to mine, backing slowly down the trail behind me.
Screams echo through the canyon, bouncing off the rock, as the women paddle for the edge of the tinaja.
Shots hit the air, and I turn to see Red charging forward, helping the women out of the pool, as she nails one of the Ragers square in the head with a bullet.
A Rager lifts Anna from the edge of the pool, dragging her away, while she kicks and screams.
Another sinks his teeth into one of the older women.
“Anna!” The one who sat next to me seconds ago hurls herself at the Rager hauling away her sister, but one hard slam of the male’s deformed hand sends her flying into the adjacent rock.
Red shoots the one now feeding off the older woman, and two more gather at her body, tearing into it as she lets out a gurgled cry.
All my instincts tell me to run.
Run. Survive.
I spin on my heel to do that, and catch a glimpse of Red, shaking her head, before she takes off after the Rager who stole the girl. Along the way, she helps the brunette, and the two hobble along the path behind them.
A Rager darts toward me, and I snatch a palm-sized rock from the ground, pitching it straight toward its forehead. Blood marks the impact, kicking his head back and his feet out from under him. He collapses, scuttling across the limestone on his knees toward me. I nab another rock and slam it against his skull. One. Two. Three. The fourth blow makes a sickening crack, and he falls to the ground.
Need to go. Need to go. Need to go.
A foghorn blares inside my head, telling me to get the hell out of here.
Another Rager rushes in, and as he reaches out for me, I skirt the swipe of his arms and continue along the path.
Instead of running away, though. I dart after Red and the brunette.
A frosty chill branches up my spine, as I enter the mouth of the unfamiliar cave. I peer into the darkness beyond, into which the footsteps I’ve been following have disappeared, and the chasing shiver is my body’s last-ditch effort to turn me around.
Screams echo from up ahead, and the pinprick of light tells me I have a good couple hundred yards of pitch-blackness to walk through before I reach it.
If I wasn’t so stubborn, my brain would convince me to turn back and abort mission, but there’s only so much the body can do when adrenaline takes over.
A putrid scent hits my nose, and I choke back the urge to upchuck, as I tread across the gravel that crunches beneath my boots.
More screams.
Every nerve in my body is wired. Standing on end. Waiting to be dragged away, or bitten.
I should go. I should turn around right now and save my own ass.
Like Papa said, being alone is the only way to survive out here.
An object strikes my foot, and I swallow a scream, slapping a hand over my mouth. The rattle of the object draws my curiosity, and I bend forward, patting around in darkness, until I palpate a cold rod. A sticky wetness slides across my fingertips, and I lift the object, recognizing the flashlight in my hand.
I flick it on.
A mangled face lurches toward me on a growl, and a scream explodes past my lips. On instinct, I slam the flashlight in his face.
Arms band around my waist, and I stumble backward, falling to the ground. Fear strangles my breaths, and I flop onto my stomach, clawing at the dirt to get away. A harsh yank sends me flying backward with the gravel scratching across my stomach.
I kick out at the Rager that drags me deeper into the cave.
“Yar mine, bitch,” he growls.
Arms flailing, I reach out for a passing boulder and grip tight.
The Rager stumbles, his grip faltering, and I scramble away from him.
An obnoxious growl clatters inside my head when the Rager dives toward me.
Fire streaks across my scalp, as he grabs hold of my hair.
I grapple for his hand, digging my heels into the dirt. Sharp rocks and gravel slice across my back, while the walls around me open to a cavern, and the pressure at my skull falls away. Rolling forward, I push to my feet and scramble toward the dark tunnel ahead of me.
The Rager who dragged me here steps in front of me, blocking the exit.
I back away from him, and scan the surroundings, to find two more Ragers closing in on me.
The screams are louder, and I catch a quick glimpse of the bodies strung along the walls, like macabre marionettes. Bloodied female torsos, without heads or limbs.
A cold sensation fills my chest, while sickness gurgles in my belly. Every breath begs for more air, and my throat burns with the sudden dryness.
The surrounding tents and blankets tell me they were a hive that must’ve stumbled upon a pocket, infecting every one of them. Judging by their ability to talk and hunt in packs, I’d guess they were Stage Two—the psychopath stage, wherein kills can be both purposeful and strictly for their own amusement.
A painful cry draws my attention toward Anna, lying trapped beneath the Rager that straddles her. Her bra has been removed, and the Rager grips her breast with one hand, clutching a bloody mass in the other hand that looks like a heart. He dangles it over her, the blood dripping across her bare skin, then lowers the gelatinous mass to her mouth as if he wants her to
eat.
Red lies passed out, and the brunette is tied to a post beneath the torsos, screaming and kicking. Because she’s already pregnant, my guess is she’ll be killed for food.
Beneath the high-pitched screams is a long droning sound, like the agonized wail of endless torment. My eyes follow the sound to the pale, skinny body of a naked woman, tied to the wall of the cavern. Her big, bulging belly pulses with life, the protrusions beneath her skin sending a rush of nausea from my stomach to the back of my mouth. The shape is unnatural—too big for her spindly frame. The milky white of her eyes and the mottling of her skin confess she’s in a progressed stage of infection.
They brought us back to their nest.
My heart slams into my chest, pounding in my throat. On the ground in front of me is Red’s gun. I dart forward and aim at the Rager blocking the exit. The sound of the click sends waves of dread through my muscles, and I drop the useless gun.
I look around the ground for anything. Anything I can use as a weapon. Backing farther away from the approaching Ragers, something hits my heel, and I snap my head down to the body of an older man, whose vacant eyes and the flies buzzing around him, are a sure sign he’s dead. Perhaps one of the men from their camp. The sight of his exposed chest cavity sends a shudder down my spine, but in his hand is a knife that I swipe, holding in front of me as the Rager who brought me edges closer. My hands tremble. No doubt, he sees my fear. Can probably smell it on the air.
The Rager’s lips stretch to a wicked grin, showing a set of teeth that are barely clinging to his gums. “No goin’ anywhar.” He talks as if he’s got a mouth full of marbles.
I’d give anything to have my sling right now.
“Stop! Please!” Anna’s muffled cry echoes from behind me, and I wonder if the Rager’s stuffed her mouth with the bloody organ.
Snaggletooth charges toward me, and I brace my muscles for the impact.
I swipe out at him, slicing the blade across his stomach, eliciting little more than a grunt.
A second Rager follows on his heels, but before I can swing my blade, Snaggletooth hisses and slams him into the wall, in some twisted bid for dominance.
My attention shifts between the two fighting, and the third whose eyes track me, but he doesn’t advance.