The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  Dylan shook his head, watching them limp away, escorted by a pair of guards instructed to keep one hand on their weapons at all times.

  “That’s the fifth set of stragglers we’ve had arrive today,” Sullivan said, standing proudly at his side.

  “How many is that in total, now?” Dylan watched the couple disappear around the corner.

  Sullivan counted on his fingers, his face screwed up in thought. “Nineteen in three days.”

  “What the hell is happening out there?” Dylan muttered, more to himself than to Sullivan. “It’s been years since any strangers have come through our gates, and now we’ve had nineteen in three days? Something’s going on out there, Sully. Something’s going on out there in the woods. Maybe even beyond—and I don’t like it.”

  “Maybe a bear?” Sullivan offered.

  Dylan ignored the comment and stroked his chin, taking a second to try to understand what could be behind the sudden influx of refugees. It wasn’t like the strangers could have aimed for Silver Creek. To the best of his knowledge, Silver Creek was a mystery, surrounded by trees and invisible from afar. There were only four people out there who knew where Silver Creek was, and three of them were occupied chasing the governor.

  The other one…well, that was the governor.

  “Maybe a bear?” Sullivan asked, a little louder.

  “Probably not a bear,” Dylan said. “But definitely something.” He placed his hands on his hips and wondered whether this was a good or bad omen. “Gather the CoR. I think this warrants a discussion.”

  Sullivan nodded and headed off into the town, his heavy footsteps loud enough to hear even once he vanished around the corner.

  Dylan made his way up the steps and to the top of the gates, nodding at each guard he passed. It felt strange, now, being on the other side of it all. Just a few weeks ago, he had felt the divide between guards and scouts. Guards would look down their noses or make snide comments as he passed by in his cloak to head out on patrol, but now, everyone was friendly, smiling, eager to say hello—well, mostly everyone.

  Maybe that’s what happened when you took down an evil dictator.

  Or maybe that’s just how everyone treated the man in charge of it all.

  Either way, Dylan wasn’t completely sure he liked it.

  He looked out over the treetops, deep in thought. Stirred by some quiet inner instinct, he squinted into the distance and saw something wobbling on the horizon, just above the trees. A gray ribbon of…smoke, it seemed. Though he couldn’t be certain. If he wanted to be sure, he’d need someone with better eyes like—

  A vampire?

  Dylan chuckled to himself and made his way back down the stairs, thinking of the new arrivals. All nineteen strangers had now been offered the basic amenities.

  Food, water, shelter.

  That was the golden three, right?

  Well…and the occasional good romp in the sack, Dylan thought. A chance to empty the pipes and release some hormones. When was the last time he’d had that?

  As he made his way along the street, it was impossible not to notice that the atmosphere was different these days. Calmer. Folks smiled, and people waved. There seemed to be more color in the world, and Dylan couldn’t help but join in the smiles.

  It had been messy, though, and the fight had been hard, but it had all been for the betterment of Silver Creek. The liberation was the turning point the town had so desperately needed.

  My sister, the hero. Who’d have thought it?

  When Mother Wendy’s Tavern came into view, Dylan shaded his eyes from the sun and looked ahead to where a buxom woman stood in the doorway, with breasts so large that they drooped and hung over her waist. She was a pretty woman, about the size of a small house. Her dark hair was pigtailed over each shoulder, and her lips shone bright red against her pale face. She wore her signature dark tunic over a white dress and held a pan in her hand.

  “Mother Wendy,” Dylan said, doffing his hood.

  “Cut that out right now, Dylan. You know my friends call me ‘Wen.’” She bounded forward and squeezed Dylan so tightly that his breath caught. With a broad smile, she leaned back, clutched his face in her hands, and said, “Now give me some sugar.”

  She placed a large wet, red kiss on Dylan’s face, leaving a mark. Nobody knew how she created her signature lipstick. What with the world falling to bits, it was hardly high on people’s agenda to doll themselves up with makeup. Though many people had asked Mother Wendy her secret, she’d always repeat that that was, “a trick I’m taking to the grave.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” she said, finally releasing Dylan. “Dylan Harrison, the brand-new governor of Silver Creek.”

  “Erm, captain of the guards,” Dylan corrected her. “I’m nothing like the governor.”

  “That’s true. But you’re also much more than just the captain, now. Especially with your sister gone, too. You’ve got the whole town to be looking after. I swear, I’ve never heard anyone’s names brought up so much these days as you and your sweet sister. It’s all people talk about.” She shot a knowing look his way. “I’m thinking maybe that’s why there’s a table of darlings waiting for you in the back room, now?”

  “I’d hardly call them darlings.” He grinned. “They’re all here, then?”

  “That’s right. Your little pet, Sully, came by not too long ago and said to set up for their arrival. Is there anything I should be worried about? Not planning a conspiracy or anything unlawful in the back of my humble abode, now, are you?” She fanned herself with a towel and started walking back inside. “That’s all I need, for my tavern to turn into a political boardroom of mayhem.”

  She paused when she reached the door. “Actually, that might not be bad for business… Well? You’re coming in, aren’t you?”

  Mother Wendy busied herself preparing a tray of varying frothy drinks for Dylan’s company. He couldn’t believe how speedily she did it either. For a woman her size, he figured it would be something of a challenge to maneuver around the bar and get everything ready.

  But lickety-split, she was done.

  “This way, now, sugar,” she cooed, opening the door with one arm and allowing him entrance.

  Five faces turned to look when Dylan walked in. He watched Mother Wendy fuss with people’s drinks, her large frame hardly able to navigate around the large table in the center of the room without knocking into people’s chairs.

  When she finished her round, she stopped at the door and yelled, “Drinks are on the governor,” winked, and laughed heartily before closing the door behind her.

  Dylan flushed. “She’s kidding.”

  “Yeah, the governor hasn’t got two cents to rub together,” Sullivan joked, then shut up quick when Dylan shot him daggers.

  Dylan took his place at the table next to Sullivan. To his left sat Ash, then Alice, Vex, and Belle. He took a swig of his drink, then said, “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I know that we haven’t all had a chance to gather properly since—”

  “Since we kicked ass and scared Trisk to high heaven?”

  There was a chorus of laughs and ‘Hear, hear!’

  Dylan couldn’t stop his own smile. “Exactly. But I believe we all know why we’re here, today?”

  “Because Caitlin’s a friggin’ rock star and loves us enough to put us in charge?” Vex said, whacking Belle on the arm as if waiting for her to laugh. “Nothing?” She rolled her eyes, grinned, and waited patiently for Dylan to continue speaking.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Dylan continued. “Truth is that my sister believes in you all. Which means I believe in you all. We spoke at great length before she left about how this town should run—would run. What changes we could make to ensure that this town would never again fall into a dictatorship and would instead be led by the people. I believe that this is the beginning of that. You five, the traveling three, and I are the new council.”

  Sullivan bounced excitedly on his chair. “The CoR
, right?”

  “What the hell is the CoR?” Alice leaned forward. “Sounds like the middle of an apple or some shit. Who the hell wants to be named after a fruit?”

  “It’s the Council of Revolutionaries.” Ash remained composed and calm. His former guard training had taught him manners in situations such as these. “Am I right, oh captain, my captain?”

  Dylan nodded. “That’s right. It’s our job to work together and lead the people. It’s our duty to keep the people of Silver Creek safe from what’s going on out there.” He pointed out the window. “I’m not sure how many of you will have noticed—with more than half of you being new to this town—but we’ve had a steady stream of stragglers filtering through our gates ever since the governor’s departure.”

  Quietly, Dylan filled them all in on the numbers. He told them how people arrived with nothing more than the clothes on their back, unwilling to tell their tales. They listened in silence as he added that they had empty rooms available in the town, at Mother Wendy’s, and in people’s houses, but these were filling up quickly.

  “It’s got to be Trisk, right?” Belle said when he ceased his explanation. She was considerably younger than the rest, not long out of her teens, but the fire inside her shone brightly. “That’s got to be the only explanation.”

  “Does it?” Ash said. “There are all sorts of dangers out there. What’s the likelihood that one man would disrupt something enough to send a whole town fleeing? The Madness is still very much the biggest cause of suffering and despair around. Who’s to say that a horde or fleet of Mad-riddled fuckers hasn’t swept through and taken out a town? We now know that vampires and Werewolves are real, though their numbers are small. Have we ever thought about what happens if one of those goes Mad? The destruction that could cause?”

  Everyone nodded solemnly.

  “You might be on to something there,” Alice said. “Just this morning, we saw a man appear at the gates, begging to be shot in exchange for the safety of his family. He had the sores and the telltale signs of the Madness and said it was from defending his family in the woods.”

  “Are you suggesting he lied?” Ash asked.

  “Those sores were several days old. He told us he was recently attacked by the Mad. Either the incubation period of the Madness is getting shorter, or the man was lying.” Without conscious thought, Alice reached for Ash’s hand and held it under the table.

  The room fell silent for a while as everyone fell into thought, evidently considering this new insight with the seriousness it deserved. Outside, they could hear a few birds chirping, and from the other side of the door came the mumbles of Mother Wendy’s patrons as they chattered and drank their day away.

  “That wasn’t all he said,” Ash added. “He mentioned that something was coming. He spoke of something called the Firestarters. Does that ring a bell with anyone?”

  The group shook their heads as one.

  “Sounds like some kind of music band to me,” Sullivan said.

  “Did he say anything else?” Dylan asked.

  Ash shrugged a denial. “Not before one of our men lost his grip and sent an arrow into his throat.”

  Alice closed her eyes as if to blink the memory away.

  Dylan sat back and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt restless. No matter what day he woke up, there were threats. Threats from the Madness, threats from the governor, and now, threats from the Firestarters—whatever they were. He hadn’t long been appointed as captain of the guard, and already, he felt constricted, like he was attacked from every side.

  “I say we send out a party of rangers and see what’s going on out there,” Vex suggested. “If something is happening, isn’t attack the best form of defense? Wouldn’t it be best to know if it is the Madness, or the gov, or the firecrackers?”

  “Firestarters,” Alice corrected.

  “Yeah, them.”

  Dylan thought back to the Mad he had seen over the years. Then he thought of the people who had filed through his gates, and an awful thought suddenly crossed his mind. Had they even checked them all? What was the likelihood that someone had come through with early signs of the Madness already on them and was now sleeping in Silver Creek, the Madness slowly taking hold, already putting everyone at risk of infection?

  “We need to tighten our protocol,” Dylan said suddenly. “If something is going on out there, we need to work from the inside out. Make sure Silver Creek is solid and safe before we send anyone out there to die.”

  “What do you suggest, boss?” Sullivan asked.

  “We need to assess each and every individual who has come through the gates in the last week. Anyone else new who comes through, we check them, head to foot. If people don’t like it, we throw them out.”

  “That seems a bit harsh,” Vex said. “I thought Silver Creek was a town of safety and community?”

  Before Dylan could speak, Ash jumped in. “It is. That’s why we have to be stricter than everywhere else. You know what it’s like out there. You’ve seen the Mad on a daily basis. If one person in Silver Creek is infected, it puts us all at risk. Who wins then? One case is all it could take before it spreads like wildfire.” He turned to Dylan. “I’ll gather several of my men, have them dress top-to-bottom in protective clothing, and round up those who have come through. We’ll strip and search everyone.”

  Alice rolled her eyes, remembering the sideways glances Ash had given to Laurie—the pretty blonde, now newly single—earlier that day. “I bet you will,” she mumbled.

  “Perfect. Sullivan, you spread the word to the men on the gates that nobody else comes through without a thorough inspection. If they want in, we search them, and they tell us what they know.”

  Sullivan nodded at Dylan.

  “What about what’s happening out there?” Vex asked. “We need to find out what the hell is going on. If we suddenly get a wave of the Mad, it doesn’t matter how thick our gate is. Enough of them pushing against it and they’ll get through. If it’s something else. Then…well…”

  Dylan stroked his chin. “Okay, well argued. You.” He pointed at Vex.

  “It’s Vex, sir.”

  Sir? Dylan thought, remembering his role in all this now. It still felt strange to be given a title.

  “And,” he said, pointing at Belle.

  “Belle.”

  “Right. Vex and Belle, I need you to partner up and tag along with Ash and his team. See what you can get out of the newcomers. Find out their story. See if there’s any correlation between their arrival at the town and any Mad attacks. Any stories. What the links connecting everyone are, and is there anything we should worry about?” Dylan stood up, kicking his chair back. “Revolutionaries,” he said, raising his glass. “Silver Creek is very much our town now, and it’s our duty to protect it. Let’s not allow the governor’s downfall to also be the downfall of Silver Creek. We’re better than that. Stronger together. We are the revolution.”

  They all raised their glasses and drank deeply.

  Except for Alice. “What about me? What do I do?”

  “You lead the rest of the Revolutionaries with their training. Have them work with the guards to improve their swordsmanship. If something is going on out there, we’re going to need a group who can travel together and tackle it. We’ll need the Revolutionaries.” Dylan looked at Alice with a determined expression. “We won’t hide behind these walls forever. We make our base strong, we train our men, then, should the call come, we’ll be ready to come out from hiding behind these walls. If Caitlin and the others are out there, fighting for sanity, then we sure as hell will be ready to, too.”

  Alice beamed, squeezed Ash’s hand, and drank her drink in one. “Huzzah!”

  Chapter Six

  Ashdale Pond, Old Ontario

  Mary-Anne couldn’t believe it. The church was full.

  She knew it was a church, of course. They’d been around before the Madness came, remnants of a forgotten religion which fell apart
during the great fall. She’d heard that people used to flock to church every Sunday to pray to their deity, a savior who would protect them when times got hard.

  Yeah, because that worked out so well when the nukes hit Earth.

  Still, never in a thousand years could she have imagined she’d see what she now saw.

  Rows upon rows of seats. Dozens. Hundreds, even. Around two hundred people sat there, all facing the front where a man in a dark black robe addressed them animatedly. Candles lined the aisles. Several people nodded their heads repeatedly as he spoke. From somewhere in the throng came the tinny whine of a baby crying.

  Mary-Anne licked her lips. It would be easy pickings for her if she were a bestial Nosferatu or Forsaken—vampires who had chosen against integration with civilization and instead, saw humans as nothing more than a food source. Luckily, the Queen Bitch had seen to most of them. There wasn’t a gun in sight. No weapon, no nothing.

  How stupid were these folks?

  She made her way around the church to get a better look and took a deep sniff when something caught her attention. At the front of the church was a large arch where a door had once been. A woman in dark clothing stood watch, her tattooed arms crossed over her chest. Mary-Anne clung to the shadows until she was a few feet away then, in a click of the fingers, she pounced, her hand going over the woman’s mouth as she dragged her away.

  Working at speed, Mary-Anne created a gag out of the cloth of the woman’s shirt. She ripped spare material and bound her hands and feet together, leaving her next to an old, cracked gravestone.

  Would she hurt her?

  Probably not. Not unless the woman decided to do something stupid.

  “Felicity?” a man’s voice came from around the corner. “Flick? Where’d you go?”

  Shit.

  “I’m here…darling?” Mary-Anne said in a voice that came out with a clumsy British accent.

  What the hell are you thinking? Since when was the last time you heard a British accent?