Hunting The Broken: Age Of Madness - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Caitlin Chronicles Book 3)

by Daniel Willcocks

But Dylan didn’t wait around. He raced off after the figure who leaped over the embers and darted away behind the remaining houses. Dylan was fast, gaining speed with every step. He wove around the fallen logs, navigated around the houses, and saw the figure up ahead.

  Lowering his head and pushing harder than ever, he hurtled in pursuit. The settlement disappeared behind them. The man was only ten feet away now. He turned back to look over his shoulder, his face panicked as Dylan gained ground.

  The fugitive threw one more despairing glance over his shoulder, then simply disappeared.

  Dylan slowed. He couldn’t believe it. One minute he had been there, and then the next—

  “Shit. Help,” a voice called from somewhere below.

  Dylan looked down to find that he was stood a foot away from the edge of a pit. Down below, the man clawed at the walls, overcome by terror as a Mad detected his arrival and turned with hungry interest.

  Without sparing a thought, Dylan fell to his stomach, reached down, and grabbed the outstretched hand. The man kicked backward, shoving the Mad to the far edge of the pit where he bounced like a wrestler off the ropes and immediately made another attempt.

  “Quick.” Panic made his tone hoarse and desperate.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Dylan growled his annoyance.

  With a final heave, he pulled with all his might. The man dragged up from the pit, managing to thrust a foot into the Mad’s face in the process, and fell in a heap on top of Dylan.

  “Thanks.”

  A flash of recognition passed through Dylan’s mind. He had seen this man before, but where? It was only when their eyes met that Dylan’s mouth opened. “You?”

  In another flurry of agitation, the man scrambled away and rose to his feet to run, but was jerked back at the last second when Dylan yanked his arm. Without hesitation, he pinned the fugitive to the ground, tore a length of cloth from his shirt, and bound his hands together.

  “No. No. You don’t understand.” The man stuttered a protest, his eyes wide.

  “Save it.” Dylan picked him up off the floor and shoved him back in the direction of The Sweet Spot. As he walked, a small vial of something liquid fell to the ground.

  Dylan pocketed it and marched him back.

  “Zeek? Explain yourself,” Big Chief demanded.

  The man Dylan had captured knelt in the middle of the clearing. He looked pasty and pallid. The torchlight surrounding him casting a sickly glow onto his face as though his skin was wax that was melting.

  “I… I… He’s a liar,” Zeek said, pointing at Dylan, his words firing with the rapidity of a snake shooting venom. “He’s an outsider. Don’t trust a word he says, the filthy outcast.”

  “Didn’t your mother always tell you to ‘treat them mean, keep them keen?’” Alice asked as she raised her eyebrows. “If that’s true, this man’s got it hot for you, Dill.”

  Dylan looked uneasily at the prisoner.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Larry’s confusion was set deep in his face. “What were you doing to these people?”

  “Something to do with this, it seems.” Dylan extracted the vial from his pocket and passed it to Larry.

  Zeek sprang suddenly from his knees, obviously wanting to reach for the vial but forgetting that his hands were tight behind his back. He yelped and crashed onto his face when he fell, a small stream of blood spewing from his nose.

  “What’s this?” Larry asked, though judging by his expression, he didn’t expect an answer. He uncorked the top, sniffed, then recoiled. “Is this…Mad blood?”

  Zeek burst into laughter.

  “What?” Ash gasped. “You’re telling me that…that…sicko had a bottle of Mad blood and was hovering above me while I slept?”

  “Suppose it’s better than a penis,” Ben said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Flo and Alice said together, then giggled behind their hands.

  Ash turned to Alice. “I’ll remember that.” His wink lent no credence to the threat.

  But Dylan ignored the others, staring in horror at the small vial. He took a step back from the tribe. “You sickos! Is that what you do here? Lure outsiders into your net and then turn them into zombies for your sick fucking amusement?”

  Ash and Dylan reached for their swords until they noticed the two dozen men and women of the tribe all reaching for their own knives.

  “Calm down, Dylan. Of course not,” Big Chief said. “There already aren’t enough people left in the world. Why would we want to turn the rest into zombies?”

  “You tell me. Your man is chasing our people with Mad blood. Mad blood.” He spoke the last two words again, slowly and clearly.

  Larry struggled to hold in a laugh.

  “What?” Dylan infused the word with sarcasm.

  “It’s just… You just sounded a lot like you did when you arrived at The Sweet Spot.”

  A ripple of laughter spread through the gathering. Even Dylan softened slightly until he saw Zeek on the ground, and his face hardened again. “So if that’s not it, what is your man doing?”

  Big Chief folded his arms and looked down at Zeek. He nodded at a group of men and women on either side who closed in with their knives pointing at the poor excuse for a man.

  “You know the deal, little piggy. Squeal, before we pock your back with holes and leave you to the Mad.”

  “All right,” Zeek conceded, clearly recognizing the threat. When he spoke, disgust painted his face. “You think you’re so high and noble, don’t you, Chief? A real nice guy, taking in strangers and offering them our shit. What do you think will happen if people know where we live? What’s going to happen when a straggler finds his way home and tells his village about us? Huh? We’re going to be eliminated, that’s what. If it’s not one asshole dictator, it’s the next, and once one gets wind of our slice of Heaven, they’ll scoop us up and bring us back into their fucked-up regime before we get half a second to say, ‘Wait a minute, leave us the fuck alone, you filthy cretin’.”

  “That’s why you were going to turn them?” Larry asked incredulously. Sudden realization dawned on his face. “That’s why any visitors keep turning Mad?”

  Zeek grinned, revealing a row of filthy teeth. “I was protecting the tribe.”

  “You were putting us in danger,” Larry replied, smacking Zeek soundly in the face. “Playing with biology? Using the Madness as a weapon? What kind of freak are you?”

  “That’s your opinion,” Zeek retorted, spitting a mouthful of blood.

  “That’s the tribe’s opinion,” Big Chief said, looking around at the others. The three older women stood side by side, nodding. “Any arguments? Anyone disagree?”

  No one said a word.

  “Then it is decided,” Big Chief continued. “Zeek, you are hereby sentenced to death for your treason against this tribe.”

  Alice’s eyes widened in alarm. “Woah, hey. C’mon, does it have to be death?”

  Ash raised his eyebrows. “You realize he nearly turned me into a zombie, right? You realize you could have been lying next to a Mad, bitten before you wake up?”

  “The punishment is fixed. We cannot allow traitors,” Big Chief said.

  “Besides, he’s been afflicted. Look,” Larry pointed to a small gash on Zeek’s lower leg from where the Mad had clawed him in his escape from the pit. “He’ll be dead in a matter of days, anyway.”

  “Could even be hours,” Big Chief added.

  “All the more reason to banish him into the woods,” Alice said. “Keep your hands clean and let him wander with his kind.”

  “Your heart is too pure, do you know that?” Ash said, but he leaned down and kissed her.

  Big Chief seemed to debate the idea in his head. On the one hand, she was right. Zeek was as good as dead anyway, so why not let him join the rest of the Mad? But, on the other hand, did they really want to add to their numbers?

  “Enough smooching. Let’s release this fucker into his natural habitat,” Dy
lan said, looking at Big Chief for approval.

  After a moment of thought, Big Chief nodded.

  He wandered into the forest with a small group of the tribe and their belligerent prisoner, leaving Dylan and the Revolutionaries at the settlement. The fire was re-lit, ushering in the final hours of darkness before the dawn. Despite their tiredness, no one felt safe enough to risk sleep in the hut yet—well…aside from Ash and Alice who decided to shut themselves away for a bit of hanky-panky.

  When the chief returned, it was with a solemnity that radiated across the tribe. He nodded at Dylan, a silent communication between them of it’s done.

  “Our apologies,” Big Chief said, taking his seat at last. “Never in a thousand years would I have imagined one of our own could have been such a monster.”

  “Really?” Flo said. “I’m not being funny, but the dude was a creep. If I had to place my bets on anyone here, it would have been him. And—”

  “Still,” Dylan interrupted her, his tone conciliatory. “Thank you.”

  The chief stared into the fire for a long moment. In the background, they could hear the stifled moans of Ash and Alice. Ben, Huckle, and Flo looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

  “He was right…in a way,” Dylan said at last. “We did journey out here to find others and to try to connect the free world.”

  Larry looked up at Dylan.

  “We have a town—Silver Creek—which, until recently, had been controlled by a dictator, much like yours only with less brain splatter. But it is free now. We are free. And we’re on a journey to unite as many towns, villages, and cities as possible. To re-unite humankind after the fall of the Madness.”

  Larry and Big Chief exchanged glances. “A town in the forest? Where?”

  “Several miles from here,” Huckle answered. “With walls the height of some of the trees, taverns, markets, and people.”

  “You can come with us,” Dylan continued. “There’s room for all of you.”

  An uneasiness fluttered across the tribe.

  “Or, you can help us join our settlements together. We’ve already built a road to a neighboring town. If you like, we can carve a path through the forest for you, too. We can share provisions and create a safer way to travel through the forest. Years ago, great roads existed, along with alliances between communities. That’s all we want.”

  For a moment there was silence as the words seemed to sink into the tribe. Only the gentle sounds of passion were heard from the huts.

  At last, Big Chief spoke up. “Your offer is kind, Dylan of Silver Creek. But this is a tribe decision and one that we will not be able to take lightly. You are welcome to stay here until we have discussed it.”

  Dylan smiled. “As long as you don’t have any other freaks waiting to pour blood into my mouth.”

  Larry and Big Chief laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  They reached the edge of the forest in the soft, muted gray of early morning. By that point, even Jaxon was worn out, still able to sniff the trail but with markedly less excited enthusiasm.

  The trees thinned to grass. When the group crested the top of a hill, Caitlin’s eyes nearly fell from their sockets. She could see for miles around from her vantage point—something she had never been able to do.

  “Dear Queen Bitch and all that is good and holy,” Caitlin breathed.

  Mary-Anne smiled beside her. “Now you’re getting it. It sure is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Caitlin wasn’t sure if beautiful was technically the right word. But the view certainly was breathtaking. For miles around, she could see the patterns of overgrown fields. Fading remains of roads crisscrossed the abandoned farmland, and a great lake shone far in the distance.

  And there, directly ahead though still a few miles away, were the derelict ruins of what had once been a great city. Its remaining skyscraper towers pointed skywards, crumbling and ruined like a row of decaying teeth.

  Laurie stepped to Caitlin’s side. Tom lowered a sleepy Joe to the floor and took his place beside her.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the cities,” Mary-Anne said, pulling her cloth tightly around her to deflect the morning sun.

  “Well, you are an old girl.” Caitlin nudged Mary-Anne in the side. “You think there’s anyone in there? It looks pretty dead from here.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” the vampire replied.

  “What are you saying, boy?” Caitlin asked Jaxon, crouching down beside him. “Did Kain head that way?”

  The dog licked her face, sniffed the ground, then walked on ahead. His ears lay flat now that his energy had faded.

  Caitlin turned back to the others and shrugged. Mary-Anne followed without complaint. Tom and Laurie exchanged a glance, looking down at the dozing Joe now crouched in the fetal position on the floor.

  “Your turn?” Tom asked.

  Laurie scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  When they came across an old farmhouse a small way out of the city, they paused to take a look inside.

  The place was a fair size and comprised two floors and several rooms. After a quick sweep of the place, they confirmed that it was empty, finding nothing but a decomposing corpse on the bedroom floor upstairs.

  “Feel free to spoon them if you want some company,” Caitlin said to the others.

  “I think I’d rather take my chances with Joe,” Laurie retorted, nodding towards where she had set Joe on the floor. He opened his eyes dozily and blinked at them.

  “Huh? Whats did I miss?” Joe said.

  “About ten miles of trekking.” Tom groaned, flexing his back.

  “Ah, man,” Joe said. “Wheres are we? I don’t think I recognize this parts of town.”

  Caitlin led Joe to the window from which he could view the vista of the city a short distance ahead and down the incline.

  “Bless my soul,” he whispered.

  “Exactly.” Caitlin suddenly remembered her map. She pulled it from her pocket and examined it carefully. Focused, she trailed her finger east from Silver Creek, past the spot where she had marked a tiny flag for the location of the airship, and on toward the factory, the abandoned home of the non-existent vampire. From there, she continued until she saw the lake shaded in dark charcoal with two cities on either side.

  “There’s a name here… The Broken City? Jeesh, that seems ominous.”

  Tom looked defeated. “Ah, man, that means we can’t name it ourselves? I wanted to call it ‘Colonial Tomsberg.’ Get it? Like Colonel Tom?”

  “What happened to sergeant?” Laurie asked.

  “Same answer as the first time I introduced myself to these guys. The world is dead. I can be whatever the fuck I want.”

  “Within limits,” Mary-Anne corrected slyly.

  “Okay, what can’t I be?” Tom replied, his one good eye glaring at the vampire.

  “A woman? A bear? How about an attractive man?” She winked.

  Laurie fell about laughing on the floor.

  Tom turned a strange shade of red. “You be careful, vampire. Before you know it, you’ll be wanting a piece of this, you’ll see. It’s slim pickings in this world, and every man and woman have urges. It merely takes the right amount of alcohol before we’re off in some shrubbery bumping uglies.”

  Mary-Anne scoffed. “Honey, don’t flatter yourself. With you and me, it’d be bumping ugly. Singular. But you couldn’t handle this if you tried.”

  “Okay, kids. Enough of the foreplay, let’s focus on the job at hand.” Caitlin intervened sharply, anxiety for Kain reasserting itself. “The way I see it, we’ve got two options. Number one, we go on ahead and follow Jaxon who seems hellbent on heading towards Colonial Tomsberg.”

  “Nice,” Tom said.

  “You’re welcome. From there, we can enter the town and find Kain—although we have been running for the best part of the morning, so if there’s any chance that hostiles will come at us, we’ve got no energ
y. Or, we rest up, take the chance that Kain can look after himself for a short while longer, and continue in an hour or so. What do you reckon?”

  The vote was unanimous towards the side of rest, and before long, they were snoozing next to each other on the farmhouse floor. Joe was the only exception—having slept for a good long while on Tom’s back—and so stood guard.

  When they awoke, it was to the smell of something amazing.

  “Rise and shines,” Joe said, sitting by a small fire he’d managed to get going in the hearth. He’d found a small pot in the old kitchen, and something was now bubbling inside.

  “What you got there, Joe?” Caitlin asked.

  “A few mice. A fox. Even managed to grabs a groundhog from its lil burrow.”

  Tom and Laurie looked impressed. “Damn, Joe. You’ve got some skills when it comes to tracking and hunting.”

  “I hads to be good. With just me and Violets out in the forests by our lonesomes, if we didn’t hunts, we didn’t eats. We’d catch everything. Squirrels, grasshoppers, spiders, rats, whatever cames nearby.”

  Tom shuddered.

  Joe continued, “Now let’s get these foods down in our bellies before the old coyotes come.”

  Laurie chuckled.

  Joe’s face fell. “I’m serious. The minutes I start cooking they be outside, all watching the house from a distance. Mights still be there if you checks them out.”

  They moved to the window and, sure enough, the coyotes were there. A pack of a half-dozen waited on the hilltop, their silver fur dazzling in the sun. They stood as still as statues.

  “Are we sure they’re coyotes and not Weres?” Caitlin whispered to Mary-Anne.

  Mary-Anne nodded. “From what I can see, they’re merely wild dogs. Nothing more.”

  Caitlin spared one last look before turning her attention to the task at hand.

  They finished up their servings eagerly, practically licking their bowls until they were clean. When they were done, Joe took the pot out onto the back porch to let the coyotes enjoy the remains.

  They gathered their things and set off once again. Caitlin let Jaxon lead, and he sniffed the ground, taking some time again to find the scent he was looking for. For a while, they managed to keep up—even Joe, who seemed determined not to let the group down this time—advancing with every step towards the ruins of The Broken City.