And with that, she was gone.
More groaning and frustrated cries came from the stairs. Caitlin weighed the sword in her hand and took the defensive stance she had practiced in her bedroom over so many years with little hope she’d ever get a chance to test it. She waited for them to attack.
Well, dickweeds, you wanted it. Come and get it!
They hesitated, the stairs hindering their progress, and Caitlin’s instincts pushed her forward. She worked her way down the stairs and stopped just beyond the grasp of a middle-aged man. His skin was blistered and dotted with weeping sores, and his hair was falling out in clumps. Scratches and gashes laced his arms, and the tattered remnants of clothing were covered in dirt and dried blood.
Caitlin spared a half second to wonder what his name might once have been.
“Phil?” she mused as she swung with all her strength.
The sword broke through his skin with ease, though it stopped at the bone. Caitlin yanked the blade clear and made another swing, then another. She struck again and again, hacking until she heard bone crack beneath the metal. Thankfully, it took only a single final swing before the Mad toppled and began bouncing down the stairs.
“I guess we’ll never know,” she said, breathless.
She pressed forward to the next—a twenty-something woman with a large frame and bingo wings—and drew her sword back to hack at the head again.
Until she remembered the effort it took to take down Phil.
Caitlin pulled back, stabbed the sword forward in the place where she figured the heart would be, and watched as the light died in the woman’s eyes.
This one she called “Sarah,” though she wasn’t sure why. She simply looked like a Sarah.
Before long, bodies littered the stairs. The rest of the horde shrieked their protest, obviously infuriated by the mere sight of Caitlin. Though some were too far deteriorated to really pose much of a threat—they could barely climb the steps—a handful of fresher Mad took the stairs with ease.
It was these which nearly caught Caitlin off-guard, but at the last moment, she twisted to avoid their grasp and within minutes, had covered her sword with their blood.
When they were down, Caitlin took a few steps back up the stairs and out of reach of the crawlers. She panted heavily, wondering why the vampire hadn’t stuck around to help her out. Sure, the sword was useful, but she could really do with some extra bodies.
As if answering her plea, Caitlin heard Dylan’s voice calling outside the front of the manor. “Get ’em, boys!”
A rallying cry.
The remaining Mad turned as the door was kicked fully wide. Within seconds, several of the rangers had loosed arrows and followed immediately with a charge. The Mad went from zombies to pincushions in seconds, collapsing to the floor.
Caitlin quickly wiped her blade clean across her thigh and replaced it in its sheath. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to hide the blade, but something told her that it was in her best interest.
“Cat!” Dylan exclaimed, running to meet his sister once they were sure the Mad were dead.
They hugged each other tightly. “I thought we’d lost you.” He pulled back and made his “man of the family” face. “Don’t you ever run off like that again, okay? I was worried sick.”
Caitlin pushed Dylan away playfully and smiled. “Shut up! I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Dylan grinned back, then looked around the foyer. “Where’s Kiera?”
Caitlin’s expression changed. In all the chaos and the excitement of meeting the vampire and the adrenaline unleashed in taking on the Mad, she had almost forgotten her friend.
She scanned the floor, hunting for Kiera beneath the bodies now piled around the place. She found what was left of Kiera’s body and pointed. Her eyes welled up, and her lip wobbled, though she was careful not to break down and cry in front of the other men.
Dylan’s eyes widened. He sighed and pulled Caitlin close to his chest, covering her eyes and stroking her hair. “Cat… I’m so sorry.” Behind him, several of the rangers shuffled awkwardly.
Dylan pulled away and held Caitlin at arm’s length, his expression one of concern and affection. She admired how tough he was and wondered how many men of his own he had lost through the years.
“C’mon,” he said as he wrapped an arm around Caitlin and led her out the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Caitlin spared one last glance up the stairs, almost certain she could see two red eyes staring after her from the shadows.
Chapter Two
Silver Creek
Morning was crowing by the time the gates of Silver Creek came into view. A violent splash of red appeared over the tops of the skeletons of trees like fire.
“Oh, we’re gonna have some explaining to do,” Dylan whispered to Caitlin as they walked side-by-side. She shot him a look, and he zipped his lips. She smirked, acknowledging the power only she had over her brother.
“Halt. In the name of Governor Trisk, who goes there?” came the call from one of several guards atop the walkway above the gate. Their uniform was made of dark leather and each guard was equipped with a bow.
“Oh, give it a rest, Clint. You know who we are. Now, open up before I lose my patience,” Dylan said, earning a few sniggers from his comrades behind him.
“Very well.” Clint snapped instructions to someone hidden from view, and a moment later, the gates creaked open.
Despite its appearance to the contrary from the outside, Silver Creek was a fair size on the inside. Caitlin was old enough to have heard tales of when Silver Creek was nothing more than a shy outpost of Toronto. It had been founded as a last-ditch effort to try to re-expand the colonies and spread humanity back across the country in a world that had shriveled the population like a flame to cotton wool.
As she understood it from the stories her mother had told her, the world had once been densely populated by men and women alike. Cars and trains and vehicles which flew the skies allowed people to cross the seas. Guns and weapons of great power were made available over the counter and weren’t restricted solely to dictators. Electricity had been available to nearly everyone and anyone who wished to could use it on a regular basis. And the Mad, alongside the rest of the UnknownWorld—vampires, Weres, and the like—had been little more than material for myths and legends.
There were streets where people could roam safely from town to town, roads to enable fast travel, medicines in abundance—the whole shebang.
It all sounded like a perfect vision of a life far removed. That old reality was a far cry from the life that Caitlin and the people of Silver Creek were used to.
Though despite its miseries, life somehow went on.
Already, the town bustled with life. Few eyes turned as the ranger troop walked through the gates and across the mud-packed streets. Most inhabitants were used to the early-morning arrival of the rangers and had grown indifferent to their appearance. Others merely looked away out of respect for the brave souls who put their lives on the line on a nightly basis to clear the forested area and ensure that the Mad stayed as far away from their perimeter as possible.
The troop moved in formation through the center of the streets, navigating around market stalls where stallholders had already laid out their wares and were looking for their first sales. The off-color fruit and vegetables were grown locally in gardens so small that it was a wonder anything grew at all. Some stalls sold malnourished livestock which looked to be so skinny and ill that Caitlin thought it would be much kinder to kill the fuckers and put them out of their misery.
Some tables displayed jewelry crafted of rocks and wood. Other vendors offered clothing woven from wool and various fibers, no doubt salvaged from desolate and abandoned houses that had been tracked and pillaged from brave husbands who had fallen to the Mad through the years gone by.
Dylan caught Caitlin’s eye as they passed a stall selling leather sheaths and wooden swords. She h
ad hidden her own sword within her jacket where it nestled safely and out of sight of the other troops.
She began to doubt whether she had been sneaky enough to hide the sword from Dylan.
He stopped suddenly. The troop came to a halt obediently behind him. “I can take her from here. All are dismissed.”
His men nodded as one, turned on their heels, and began to disperse into the thickening crowd.
“Except you, Sullivan.”
A thick-set ranger with muddied skin and a grizzled beard answered, “Me, sir?”
Dylan waited a moment to double-check that the other rangers were out of hearing. “Cut the crap, Sullivan. You don’t need to ‘sir’ me when the others aren’t around.”
“Of course, sir…er…I mean… Yes, Dylan.” Sullivan shuffled his feet, displaying open discomfort at the directive.
Dylan turned to Caitlin. “He’s cute when he’s nervous, don’t you think, sis?”
“I suppose—I mean, maybe if he cleaned himself up a bit.” She folded her arms. “What are we doing? Can we go home?”
Somewhere nearby, they heard the deep, booming voice of a stallholder announcing the discounted price of his rugs and blankets.
“Sullivan, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything, sir,” Sullivan said eagerly.
Dylan gritted his teeth as if he was about to lash Sullivan again for not using his name, but evidently decided to let it go.
“Caitlin, here, has something valuable that I need you to take back to our home.”
“Wait, what?” Caitlin said, her eyes wide as she took a defensive step back and clutched the package beneath her clothes. “If fudge nuggets so much as touches this, I’ll bite his hand off.”
Dylan grinned, grabbed Caitlin’s elbow, and pulled her closer.
“You’ll do no such thing. Look, here’s the deal. I need to report to the governor to update him on the night’s events. I’m taking you with me to give a first-hand account of whatever the fuck went down at that manor and to explain why we’re returning with two fewer rangers than we left with.”
“Two?” Caitlin said, confused.
“While you were off playing with zombs, Francis was mauled by a bear.”
“Ouch,” Caitlin said and took in a hiss of breath.
“Right. And what do you think Governor Trisk will think of your shiny new addition if he sees you clutching it to your breasts like Sullivan clutches his ale at Mother Wendy’s tavern?”
Realization suddenly dawned. Caitlin wasn’t sure what it was that made her so protective over her sword, but did know it would be much better to part with it for an hour than for the governor to confiscate her weapon permanently.
She knew the official’s temper could be volatile at the best of times. Only last week, she’d heard that he had sentenced a former guard to two days out in the woods with nothing more than the clothes on his back as punishment for turning up five minutes late to a shift.
The man had died some twelve hours later, attacked and mauled by Mad within view of the town walls. The guards on the wall had been instructed, under pain of their own death, not to help him out.
Sullivan shuffled his feet. Small beads of sweat peppered his brow.
“It’s okay, Sullivan. Just get back nice and quick and hide it beneath my bed,” Caitlin said. “You’ll know which one it is. It’s the one that doesn’t smell of BO and shit.”
Dylan tutted.
“But if I find you hiding beneath my sheets when I get back, I’ll be sure to cut your cock off.”
Caitlin opened her cloak cautiously, shielding the sword from view. Someone watching from afar could be mistaken for thinking that she had given the ranger a hug. When she moved away, she felt a sudden overwhelming emptiness in knowing she was defenseless. Despite her brother’s trust in this ranger, Caitlin couldn’t help her reservations.
“Do not lose it,” Caitlin said through gritted teeth.
Sullivan nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
When Sullivan was out of sight, Dylan said, “Now, are you ready to give your first morning report?”
Despite his reassuring tone, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She had been given this one chance to help out on ranger patrol, and already, she had found herself mixed up with the Mad, played with a vamp, and had lost a friend.
What kind of governor would want such a liability out there on patrol?
“Sure. Though I guess it’ll likely be my last,” Caitlin said as they headed through the streets.
Governor’s Quarters, Silver Creek
Caitlin didn’t know what to expect when they arrived at Trisk’s quarters. Life as she knew it in Silver Creek was certainly a far stretch from anything she had ever considered ‘lavish.’
Sure, she had heard tales of comfort and convenience of times long gone, but day-to-day life was about as basic as you could get.
Her own home—along with so many others—was little more than a boarded wooden shack. A series of cubes attached to one another that ran in rows like shanty towns of old. Floors were nothing more than dirt. Beds were nothing more than basic, and on stormy nights when the rain poured down and the wind roared loud enough to cover the far-off screams of the Mad, the only defense to keep out the cold was the curtains covering the holes where, generations before, windows would have been.
But this…
Ho-lee-shit.
As the guards opened the doors and Caitlin stepped into the governor’s quarters, a whole range of emotions punched her in the face. At first, she reveled in the warmth that greeted her instantly from a large fire in the hearth along the far wall. Then she stared in awe at the ornate decoration, felt the softness of carpet beneath her feet for the first time, and looked at the paintings that lined the walls in frames that looked to be cast in gold. In a way, it reminded her a little of what the vampire’s manor could have looked like—after a good clean.
And then a little bubble of anger popped inside her, frustration at how one man could live so royally in a town where Caitlin had seen people sleeping in muddied puddles on the street. Where it was more common to have dirt smeared across your face than it was to be clean.
“Aha!” Governor Trisk bellowed. “There he is, my favorite of all the ranger party.”
Caitlin couldn’t hide her surprise.
The man was a slob. The man before her presented a far sight from what Caitlin had seen when he made public appearances wearing outfits that were pristine and invariably regal.
Usually, the only sightings of Trisk would have been on Friday afternoons when the bell sounded and the town gathered in the market square for what some had begun to call the Governor’s Gabble.
For several hours, he would preach and speak in his droning tone, inviting guests up to provide updates and orders to the residents of the town.
Well, perhaps not exactly ‘inviting’ people…
Guided by Trisk’s number one guard, Hank Newman, most residents were forced to go up on the platform. Those who refused would be used quickly as an example of what not to do when given a direct order from Governor Trisk.
Caitlin had seen it several times, now. On one occasion, she could remember a timid old woman with graying hair and arthritic legs unable to take to the platform to speak. Her son had gone toe-to-toe with Hank after he had pulled out his rusted sword and said, loud enough for all to hear, “The governor would like you to speak, ma’am. Whether you can walk up the stairs or not is not my concern. Talk, or say goodbye to the kiddo here, because I haven’t got all fucking day.”
The journey up the stairs was painful. The woman had given her report through wracked sobs and tears. Her son was dragged away and out of sight. It took a long while after that before anyone refused again.
“Good morning, Governor,” Dylan replied, dropping to one knee and bowing. When Caitlin didn’t follow suit, he tugged on her cloak.
“What?” Caitlin asked absently, still stunned by this version of th
e governor.
The man waddled forward to greet Dylan, his stomach leading the way. His tits wobbled back and forth. The only items Caitlin could identify were a graying pair of briefs and a golden chain which hung around Trisk’s neck.
Dylan tugged again, more fiercely this time.
“Oh, right,” Caitlin said, falling to her own knee.
Somewhere back in the room he had emerged from, Caitlin heard the mumbles and giggles of several women.
“Oh, and look, you’ve even brought me a present,” Trisk said, seemingly noticing Caitlin for the first time.
At first, she wasn’t sure if he was joking. But when she saw the way his eyes scanned her from bottom to top, pausing for far too long as he reached her chest, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Excuse me? I’m not a—”
“Governor, this is my sister, Caitlin,” Dylan interjected. “One of the first women to join the rangers under your orders.”
Caitlin’s mouth snapped shut.
“Ah, yes,” he said delightedly, clapping his hands together. He walked to the far side of the room. Several goblets were lined atop a dressing unit beside a jug from which he poured a thick purple liquid. “I assume all went well?” He drained his cup in one, held up an empty cup to Caitlin and Dylan, who both shook their heads, then poured himself another.
As Dylan spoke, the governor drank, wine dribbling out of either side of his mouth to trickle down the peaks and troughs of his body.
“Unfortunately, there were some complications. As we approached the borders near Mossy Hollow, we ran into a horde of Mad. More than we’ve seen in years, now. While we did our best to take them down, we lost two rangers along the way.”
Trisk’s eyebrow raised. His voice was level and calm, almost too steady for Caitlin’s liking. “Oh? Who?”
“Drek Francis, sir. One of our finest. Amidst the onslaught, the disturbance attracted a nearby bear who caught him by surprise. There was little we could do to save him.”
“That’s a damn shame. Did you kill it?” the Governor asked, taking a seat at the side of the room with another goblet of wine full to the brim.
The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set Page 2