by Pam Godwin
The desolation in Kentucky, Indiana, and Illinois was the same as all the other places I’d been since the plague scored its toxic claws across the earth. Vegetation rappelled the sides of buildings, human skeletons scattered the roadside, and tangling nets of dense shrubbery formed canopies around houses and alleyways. The deterioration offered countless hiding places for aphids, men, and hell only knew what other carnivorous creatures.
But passing through ecosystems of decaying bodies and flourishing ivy with Link behind the wheel was a far different experience. He didn’t hide from the desperate eyes of survivors. No, he stopped the van, jumped out without his crossbow or other visible weapons, and approached them.
Like he was doing now, striding across the cracked urban street in some city in southern Illinois, headed directly toward an office building. He stopped at the gaping hole where the door used to be and shouted something indiscernible. He’d said there were men in there, but I didn’t see movement.
The chilly November air lingered in the van long after Link slammed the driver side door. I knelt between the front seats, my hand on Jesse’s thigh where he’d moved behind the wheel. He curled his fingers around mine, his eyes locked on Link through the windshield.
“He’s insane,” I mumbled.
Darwin’s wolfy head pushed its way under my arm. I nudged him behind me, coaxing him with an ear scratch to keep him out of view.
“He’s doing me bloody nut in, the mentaller.” Roark climbed over me and lowered into the passenger seat, folding the edge of his dark red trench coat over his scabbard.
We’d plundered supplies from a number of desolated stores along the way, searching for warmer clothes and more food. Hunter did most of the gathering, but we’d chosen our own wardrobes. I found it mildly amusing that Jesse and I dressed alike, both decked out in black leather pants, motorcycle jackets, and boots.
The cargo areas of our six vehicles held our stash, as well as Shea and Darwin, me and my guardians, Link and the five men we left Charlottesville with, and eighteen others Link had enlisted along the way.
Twenty-nine people comprised our expedition, and we needed more.
We needed an army.
Traveling for two weeks now in a caravan of vans and trucks, the diesel engines ran surprisingly well on Paul’s plastic containers of cooking oil. My house in Missouri was a thousand miles from Charlottesville, a drive I could’ve made in two days before the plague. But now, the highways buckled in a crumble of asphalt and rusting metal, and the search for restaurants with fat fryers was an endless effort of stop, security sweep, collect, and go.
Then of course, there were the delays that came with recruiting.
Which was why Link had left us parked on the side of the road as he set off toward the cluster of tall buildings, the glass fronts shattered and blanketed in green waves of kudzu vines. He used varying tactics to gauge a person’s ethics, claiming the face of a moral man in the civilized world no longer existed, and while indicators of integrity in this world were difficult to detect, they were there if one knew what to look for.
Hard to argue that. Two years ago, I would’ve stopped to help a bleeding man on the side of the road. Now? I’d hit the fucking gas pedal and not look back. Did that make me a bad person? No, man, it was called survival.
Since I could only see out the windshield, I shifted around Jesse to steal a glimpse at the side mirror. It showed no movement or signs of life amid the abandoned cars and overgrown sidewalks.
Beads of sweat formed on my temples. “Where’s the rest of our caravan?”
Jesse kept his eyes on the windshield. “They pulled off when we entered the town so that some could follow quietly on foot.”
I took his word for it. He had a better view from the front passenger seat, where I saw nothing riding in the windowless rear with Roark and Darwin.
Every town had a few survivors and ten times as many aphids. Which was why I’d wanted Shea to ride with us. Keeping her in sight would’ve eased some of my anxiety. But she’d stubbornly refused, preferring to stay with Paul and Eddie in one of the trailing vehicles.
Link stood outside the broken glass door of the building. There was no cover to protect him from bullets. No shade to hide his expression. Only the glare of the sun, the blades I assumed he concealed beneath his denim jacket, and my stabby fingers, which were currently sliding to my arm sheathes where they fit snuggly beneath my sleeves. Not that I could do any damage at this distance.
“He’s ballsy.” Jesse gripped my hand and returned it to his thigh, his eyes on the back of Link’s bald head. “But not insane. He has snipers with crossbows there.” He glanced at the twisted shell of an overturned semi down the road. “And more surrounding our van.”
I felt the occasional internal vibrations of aphids, but they quickly snuffed out, which meant Link’s men were definitely in the area, keeping it clear of inhuman threats.
“Still den’ like this plan.” Roark narrowed his eyes on our self-proclaimed leader across the street.
My pulse sprinted. I didn’t know about a plan. “What plan?”
Link held his hands up as three youngish men stepped out of the crumbling building. Tension strained their filthy faces, their fingers tightly gripping knives and sledgehammers, their postures twitchy with distrust.
Facing the man in front—a lanky blond with a pistol aimed in two hands—Link kept his arms in the air as he talked, holding their attention.
I couldn’t hear a damned word he said. “What’s the plan?”
Jesse shushed me, his thumb stroking over my hand as he watched the confrontation.
Something wasn’t right. The creases spreading from the corners of Jesse’s eyes, the bob in his throat, and the way he caressed my fingers, it was all so…regretful. But why? We were relatively safe in the van. The keys dangled from the ignition. If Ballsy McBaldy’s little meet-and-greet ended with a bullet in his head, we could get the fuck out of Dodge before those weapons turned on us.
Link continued to run his mouth, one hand rubbing his head, the other gesturing as he talked. Whatever he was telling them made them widen their eyes and shake their heads.
Nodding, Link turned and pointed to the van.
My breath caught. “Somebody better tell me what’s going on.”
Jesse reached back and grabbed Darwin’s collar, his eyes on Roark. “That’s your cue.”
“Load of fecking rubbish,” Roark grumbled.
“Cue for what?” I spun to face Roark. “What’s he talking about?”
Roark slid around me and swung open the side door. Wordlessly, he grabbed me around the waist, threw me over his shoulder, exiting the van and striding toward the front bumper.
To do what? To carry me toward those men? What the hell?
“My bow!” I stretched for the van, but the door was already shutting on the worried eyes of Jesse and Darwin.
Roark restrained my thighs against his chest, circled the front of the vehicle, and crossed the street, whispering sternly in my ear. “Den’ ye touch the blades under those sleeves.”
Seriously? Whatever the plan was, it was too late to demand answers. Didn’t stop me from giving him a solid toe kick in the thigh.
“Oomph.” He lowered his grip on my legs and smacked my ass so hard I bit my tongue.
Bastard! I dug my nails into the back of his coat, frustrated I couldn’t get to his skin. “You’re going to pay for that, goddammit. Put me down.”
I attempted to jerk myself free as he closed the distance and stopped beside Link.
“See?” Link gripped the back of my thigh. “Told you I found a woman. Tight fucking cunt, too. Like I said, we’ll let each of you have ten minutes with her. We just need something to eat.”
The blood drained from my face, even though I knew Jesse and Roark would never allow those men to touch me. This was the plan? Tempt them with an unwilling woman and see how they responded?
I tried to scan the street for snipers, but hangin
g upside down with my pulse in my throat, I couldn’t see anything but broken asphalt and the back of Roark’s coat.
“How?” asked one of the men in hushed disbelief. “Women didn’t survive.”
Roark dropped me to my feet, spinning me to face three pale faces. His hand gripped my jaw roughly, and his fingers went for the zipper of my jacket, dragging it down and pulling it open. Then he reached for the hem of my shirt.
“Don’t do this.” I clutched the muscles in his forearms, shoving with wasted effort.
He yanked my shirt up and over my breasts.
“No!” My wretched shout cracked in the cool air. “No, dammit. Let go!”
My nipples pebbled in the crisp breeze as I tried to pull the shirt back down, twisting and bucking in Roark’s hold. One arm wrapped like a steel bar around my waist. The other hooked around my throat in a strangle hold.
I really needed to escape the arm beneath my chin, but it was a solid weight of iron and determination. He wasn’t cutting my air, hardly using any strength at all, and here I was, engaging every muscle in my body and burning my way to exhaustion.
Where was Jesse? Why was he allowing this? He and Roark were supposed to be my protectors, yet I felt anything but protected right now.
Link captured my hands, shackling them between my back and the immovable wall of Roark’s abs. My lungs wheezed, and my chest crushed beneath the shock of utter panic.
Roark kept his arm against my throat, his huge body stopping my backward retreat. As if manhandling me into submission and baring my scarred chest to Link and strangers wasn’t enough, he shoved his fingers down the front of my pants.
I was humiliated. I’d never been modest about nudity. Hell, I’d exposed myself countless times while commanding aphids. But this was forced, my control taken from me. Last time this happened… Fuck, I couldn’t think about that. I already looked weak, helpless, and I despised that feeling. It soured inside me like a cold, dead thing, bubbling with rotten acid, ready to explode in a stomach-emptying fit of rage.
I didn’t care what purpose my humiliation served. They should’ve fucking asked me.
“Let go of me!” I fought against the unbending force that was Link and Roark, kicking and growling and spitting, my skin reddening beneath their grips. “Motherfuckers! You’re going to regret this.”
“Let her go.” The blond man in front aimed his gun at Link’s head, his hands and voice shaking. “Let her go now!”
The two men behind him balked with frozen expressions, the whites of their eyes stark in sunlight as they took a step back, their weapons forgotten in their hands.
In a blur of movement, Link released me, disarmed the blond man, and turned the gun on him, pointing it directly between his eyes.
Before the other two men could react, Link laughed, lowering the gun and patting the guy’s face. “You’ll do, kid. All I needed was a flinch, like your buddies there, and it would’ve been enough. But you went hog wild and stood up for her. I respect that.” He flipped the pistol and handed it back, grip first. “But if you ever lose your weapon like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Roark tugged my shirt back in place and let me go. Adrenaline crashed through my veins, and my heart banged heavily in my chest. I couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
As I ran back to the van, a stream of Link’s men slipped out of nowhere. Crossbows at the ready, they jogged in the direction I’d come from.
The door of the van opened for me and slammed shut as I crawled in.
I scooted to the far side of the cargo area and hugged my knees to my chest, waiting for my breathing to normalize and my energy stores to replenish.
Darwin licked my face, his weight leaning against me as I stroked his fur. I just needed a few minutes to pull my thoughts together, but Jesse wasn’t having it.
He gripped my arm and yanked me toward the front, planting my ass in the passenger seat and kneeling beside me. “Tell me why I stayed here instead of taking Roark’s place.”
I gnashed my teeth. Jesse knew I’d be fuming mad about this plan. Better for him if Roark played the bad guy, right?
“Because you’re a fucking coward.”
“Evie,” he growled, his voice hard and impatient. “Think past your anger.”
I looked away, my gaze locking on the back of Roark’s head. He stood halfway between the van and the building where Link and his crew calmly talked with the new men. Roark anchored his hands on his hips, his head down, his thick boxer's shoulders lifting and tightening around his ears.
This was why Jesse sat me here, so I could see the regret clinging to Roark’s posture. Or maybe it was so I’d notice the driver’s side window rolled down and the seat adjusted to lean toward the steering wheel.
I dragged in a deep breath, cooling some of the heat in my blood. “You stayed in the van so you could hide behind the driver’s seat and train your arrow out the window.”
Roark could gut an army of men with his sword, but not from thirty yards away, which meant he had to be the one to drag me out there.
Jesse reached up and stroked the backs of his fingers over my jaw. “I never took my eyes off the blond guy’s trigger finger. Link’s snipers were ready, but I will never leave your protection in the hands of a man who isn’t one of your guardians.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me the plan?”
He dropped his arm, resting it across my thigh. “Those prospects needed to see fear on your face. The kind you can’t fake. You knew Roark wouldn’t hurt you, but you don’t like to appear weak. That’s what drove you to fight with every breath you had.”
I hated that he knew all my pathetic shortcomings. I curled my hands in my lap, my head tilting away.
As far as recruiting went, offering those men a woman to rape was an effective way to test their integrity. They might’ve given in to their carnal urges eventually, but those first few seconds were telling. A rotten man wouldn’t have flinched. Especially not in this sadistic world.
Link’s previous recruiting methods had taken much longer, involving hours of conversations while he attempted to flesh out strengths and weaknesses. In the last town, he pretended he was stabbed and pleaded for help. He hadn’t expected the approaching men to help him. He’d been looking for a glimmer of sympathy in their eyes. Instead, those fuckers raised their guns to finish him off. Needless to say, he’d left a few dead bodies castrated in the street.
Jesse gripped my chin and turned my face toward his. “I never would’ve agreed to this if I didn't think you were strong enough to handle it.” He kissed my lips. “You’re over it.”
That sounded a whole lot like a demand, but yeah, I was over it.
“Now you’re going to help him get over it.” He angled my face toward Roark, the hardness in his tone at odds with the tender way his fingers released my chin to glide down my neck. “He fought this plan since we left Charlottesville. The alternative was to use Shea, but we decided you’d be less forgiving if we involved her.”
My nostrils flared. He was damned right about that.
“He’s upset, Evie. When he gets back in here, you’re going to do whatever you need to do to make him un-upset.”
My lungs released a sharp breath. I’d give it a go, but Roark was a master at brooding in self-depreciation. Maybe I should return his rosary beads.
The men across the street began to scatter, leading the new recruits back to our vehicles. The newbies carried their backpacks and weapons, probably the only things they owned. Most of the men we’d met over the past two weeks were like us. Vagabonds, looking for something, with no place left to call home. Link didn’t promise them a roof over their heads. He offered something better: a brotherhood of soldiers, an honorable cause to fight for, and maybe someday, a woman and children to love.
Of all the men who’d passed his tests, not one had declined his offer to join us.
Link followed Roark back to the van and slid in behind the wheel, starting
the engine.
I opened the side door for Roark. He stared a hole through me as he stepped in and sat on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Darwin came over and sniffed him from boots to neck then curled up beside him.
“Want to know something crazy?” Link turned in the seat, wearing a maniacal grin.
“Not really.” I sat on the floor in front of Roark, meeting those tension-filled jade eyes.
“Those guys had heard of us,” Link said.
That drew my attention. “Us?”
Link glanced at the side mirror, probably checking to see if the caravan had caught up, and turned back to me. “They said some men passing through were talking about a guy with black eyes”—he widened his for effect—“and the blonde beauty I was gathering an army for.”
Holy fucking shit. I shared a look with Roark then Jesse, their shock as gaping as mine. “How is gossip spreading that fast? The men we’ve met either joined us or died…very fucking gory deaths, I might add.”
“Yeah, about that…” Link put the van in gear and pulled onto the road. “Apparently, I have a feared reputation of castrating.”
“Have you left any balls intact?”
“Nope.”
“There’s your legacy. You’ll be right up there with Billy the Kid, Jack the Ripper, and Dahmer the Milwaukee Cannibal. What will they call you? Link the Emasculator?”
He slammed his hand against the dash, hooting with laughter. “I like that.”
“You would.”
Returning his hand to the wheel, he tapped his thumb. “For every survivor we encounter, there are ten more you don’t see, watching from the safety of their hidey-holes, paying attention, and spreading the gossip.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t thought of that. “So those three men already knew who you are, already knew all about your little gelding fetish? They were on their best behavior.”
“They knew my reputation as a brutal motherfucker and still stood up to me. That says a lot, Evie.”
Whatever. I could argue semantics all day, and frankly, Link’s mental stability really worried me sometimes. But I had a more urgent matter to address.