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

by Daniel Willcocks

  As they passed Weres stationed as sentinels on most corners, Kain felt a small fondness for his old home come over him. At one point in his life, this had been it. His pack had lived and ruled there in the quiet spaces below the surface. If only it hadn’t been for—

  “Wahey! He’s back,” a broad man with a face covered in scars exclaimed as they passed. “Been quiet around here without you, buddy.” Though Kain smiled at the sentiment, he knew it wasn’t sincere. Chaz had always hated him and wanted him gone from the start.

  He groggily drowned Chaz’s laughter with the opening lines to an old rock hit he couldn’t remember the name of. Something about homes and candy in Alabama. “Lord, I’m coming home to you.” He stopped the slightly out of tune melody when Madeline took great pleasure in slapping his face to keep him quiet.

  They took another right-angled turn and came to a tunnel with a thick wooden door at the end. Outside the door stood several brute-like Weres with thick hair across their exposed limbs. Each held a spear or cleaver in their hands and stood to attention as the three of them approached.

  The tallest of the group took a step forward to greet Kain. He pulled his chin upwards to look into his face, a wicked grin spreading from ear to ear. “Well, well, well. I wondered if we’d ever see you again, Sudeikis. There ain’t many people fled from the pack and found their way back again in one piece.”

  “How did you find me?” Kain asked, studying Bryce’s face.

  The Were shrugged. “You’ve never been the most careful, y’know?”

  They had been friends once, in a time when being a Were was glorious. Once, they had fought together and hunted together, Kain in his wolf form and Bryce towering over him as the black bear which he became. The almost-giant had been one of the very few lucky enough to have been hidden deep in the depths of a radiation bunker when the world went to shit. Somehow, he and Geralt had escaped the afflictions of the Madness.

  Which made him invaluable as Geralt’s number two.

  “You’ve gotten fat,” Kain said simply.

  Bryce looked down at his stomach. “I wouldn’t say fat. Bulky, perhaps. You, however…you look like shit.”

  “Always a pleasure to be welcomed home with a compliment,” Kain retorted equably, hiding his growing anxiety.

  “What did you expect?” Bryce continued. “You thought you’d be welcomed home with open arms?”

  “Then why am I here?”

  Bryce paused a moment, contemplative. “That’s for Geralt to fill you in on.” He stood up to his full height and waved an arm in the direction of the door. “From what I can gather, he’s got a job that’ll be perfect for you.”

  “Why would I do anything for that bastard?” Kain snapped, losing his cool for the first time.

  Bryce said one word before Kain was hauled inside, feet dragging behind him. “Redemption.”

  The Sweet Spot, Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  Dylan and his company waited patiently for a decision from The Sweet Spot tribe. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in the village itself, but it was certainly an education touring the reaches of their encampment and seeing how the tribe lived.

  The perimeter of the town stretched a good mile or so around the treehouses. Dylan, Ash, and Alice took a fair amount of pleasure in circling the camp, watching out for the traps—which, now that they were aware of them all were actually rather poorly hidden. Not that the Mad would spot them at all with their degenerated minds. They weren’t known for their observation skills.

  Huckle, Ben, and Flo remained in the village, taking time to sleep and test the various fruits and foods which the tribe had cured and put aside. It seemed that living in smaller groups created an easier opportunity for an abundance of food. Where Dylan had observed off-and-on-again droughts of foodstuffs as the farmers and gardeners at Silver Creek had attempted to grow and raise livestock and food beyond the city walls, the tribe had perfected the knack of which foods were edible and how to hunt big game.

  “They’ve really got it sorted here,” Ash said, walking hand-in-hand with Alice a step behind Dylan. “Do you think they’ll want to connect with the real world?”

  Dylan spotted a nearby squirrel and watched as it raced up a tree in panic at their noise. “I don’t know. Who says that we’re even the real world anymore? So much has changed in such a short span of history. Who’s to say what normal is now?”

  A short time after noon they had their answer. Dylan, Ash, and Alice had circled back to the village and met with the others who each had their bellies so full that they were bulging.

  “You could’ve saved some for us,” Alice said.

  “We did,” Ben replied through a mouthful of some kind of fruit which spilled a dark orange liquid down his chin. He pointed to a woven basket still filled with orbs of various colored foods.

  The tribe seated on the logs in the center of the village all nodded, murmured something which Dylan couldn’t quite make out in unison, and then turned to face them. Big Chief and Larry walked over to the group, smiling as he saw their faces sticky with juices.

  “Your hunger sees no end,” Big Chief said.

  “Nor does your generosity,” Huckle replied.

  The chief smiled.

  “Have you come to a consensus?” Dylan asked, a hopeful look in his eye. This had been his first encounter with life on his own and without his sister present, and he wanted it to go well. “What’s the decision?”

  Big Chief turned to Larry, who took a deep breath before speaking. “We will not come.”

  A wave of confusion swept across the Revolutionaries’ faces.

  “I’m sorry?” Dylan asked, voicing the general bewilderment.

  “Our village is too precious. For the first time in our living memory, we are all happy. We are a band of people who have found our Sweet Spot and live together in a harmony that we could never have imagined possible. Though you say you can offer us protection and community, there are those within our own community who ask who will protect us from you?”

  Dylan’s face fell.

  Larry continued. “We do not doubt that you have something special in your village of Silver Creek and, Lord knows, the winds of change are due to blow. But the people are happy. We have found our formula for happiness, and we intend to keep it.”

  There was a short pause before Dylan said, “I understand.” He looked at his own company and saw his feelings reflected in their own faces. “It is a shame, but we understand. We shall gather our things and leave you to your virtues.”

  They all stood, then, turning to re-enter the houses until Big Chief cleared his throat and elbowed Larry.

  “However…” Larry said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yes?”

  Larry approached Dylan and suddenly, fell to one knee, bowing his head. “It would be my honor if I could join you, Dylan Harrison of Silver Creek, and see what has happened to the world beyond our borders. Though my village deems their lives full, I believe an opportunity to see the outside with my own eyes is one that I cannot miss. And, who knows, maybe one day, I can return with news which will change the opinion of the tribe.”

  Dylan turned to Big Chief, who nodded.

  “Your request is more than acceptable.” Dylan pulled Larry back to his feet and embraced him tightly.

  The others followed suit. Ash, Alice, Huckle, Ben, Flo, and even the rest of the Sweet Spot tribe—besides from the three women who simply sat and smiled—hugged, celebrated, kissed, and exchanged smiles until there was no more laughter or emotion to be shared.

  “Just one thing, though,” Dylan said at last when they all pulled away and broke free.

  Larry wiped a tear from his eye. “What’s that?”

  “We have to find you some clothes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Broken City, Old Ontario

  She could smell them everywhere. Their earthy musk bounced off every wall and crevice down in the tunnels beneath the city.
>
  Weres…

  Mary-Anne had to admit that she had been surprised to find the others gone after she had finished her lap of the city’s perimeter.

  Well, it hadn’t been a lap, per se. From where she had left them, she had skirted the fences as far clockwise as she could until she found herself at a huge lake which bordered the northern part of the city. Not really one to fuck about with water and swimming—particularly in the oh-so-fine garments Mabel had given her to block out the sun—she had turned tail and sprinted back the way she had come.

  Her first thought at the disappearance of the others had not been a kind one—she had actually fumed at the idea that they would leave her behind. But that was only until she caught the faint scent of other humans in the air and noticed the way the circular tuft of grass had been clumsily replaced. She climbed down after them, not quite believing the several discoveries she made as she navigated the tunnels and pulled down her hood to allow some air to touch her face once she was out of the sunlight.

  The first discovery had been the fact that her senses were fading again. She struggled to remember the last time she had ingested human blood. Now, the effects of abstinence were showing. Had she been at full power, she was confident she could have navigated the perimeter and been back in less time than it would have taken for Joe to breathe his next breath.

  As it was, that didn’t happen. And even now, she found it harder to trace the smell of her crew and follow them through the labyrinthian sewers—particularly when the smell of Were was so dense in the air.

  That was discovery number two.

  Mary-Anne took note of several off-tunnels dotted along the way and which led to unknown destinations. She had explored a few briefly out of nothing more than pure curiosity, finding each end either obstructed by piles of rubble and rock where the ceiling had caved in, or blocked with circular wooden doors chained and padlocked to an extreme degree. The only entrance in or out of the doorway was a small cutout at the bottom to allow for the flow of thick brown water to trickle through.

  Mary-Anne pressed her ears to several of the doors, taking note of the sound of murmurs and footsteps on the other side.

  Who the fuck are these tunnel-dwellers, and why are they trapped down here?

  Taking a mental note to tug at that particular thread later, Mary-Anne continued in pursuit of her company. When she reached the tunnel’s end and heard voices, she waited patiently in the dark as the woman had pronounced herself as Isabella. Then, Laurie struggled to hold her tongue and revealed Mary-Anne’s true identity. Finally, the strangers had untied the Revolutionaries’ and led them through the city.

  Now, Mary-Anne trailed them from building to building on the surface, hiding in the shadows and moving as silently as possible behind the others. She could see Caitlin and Isabella at the forefront of the group, some distance ahead.

  The Vanguard of the Broken led her group over stacks of broken cars piled up as high as walls and through shortcuts in buildings where great holes were blasted into the sides. They skirted dense areas of flat concrete which had split and broken and now succumbed to greenery and life which had persisted and won the battle for survival over the years.

  Where are they taking them? From what she could see, the entire town was desolate. The only sign of life was the birds and scurrying critters which looked markedly scraggly and malnourished.

  Eventually, they came to a large building with a frontage that might once have been all glass but was now nothing more than a skeletal frame. Isabella led Caitlin and the others inside, and Mary-Anne waited a few minutes before following.

  Taking careful steps through the entrance, Mary-Anne paused at the old reception area of the library. She knew it was a library from the artwork of books painted on the peeled and faded walls and the stacks of yellowing pages which littered the floor.

  Maybe this is a good time to brush up on some history. Read about biology and chemistry, math, and physics, or see if there are any good fiction works about unicorns and trolls. Mary-Anne chuckled to herself. Sure, but who’s got time these days? She remembered her favorite book, an epic about rings, elves, and hobbits. Maybe one day, I’ll find it again and take another journey into that one.

  But not now.

  She looked up and down the reception, then took a deep breath, hoping to catch the humans’ scent. She veered left, followed through several corridors, and was about to open a door when two things stopped her.

  First was the multitude of voices suddenly rising up on the other side of the door. The second was something she hadn’t smelled in a long, long time.

  Mary-Anne caught the incredibly faint whiff of a vampire.

  The Broken City, Old Ontario

  Caitlin couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  There were hundreds—likely thousands—of shelves lined to the brim with books upon books upon books. She’d spent most of her life believing that most books from the past had been destroyed or damaged since the World’s Worst Day Ever—that fateful apocalyptic day some centuries before where the world nuked itself to shit. It was unbelievable to think that this building was almost full of books from floor to rafters.

  But that wasn’t the most impressive part. Her jaw dropped when she saw the hundreds of people wandering to and fro inside the grand space of the old library.

  “Wow…quite the hidden colony you have here,” Caitlin said just loud enough for Isabella to hear.

  “We’re people, Caitlin. Not ants.” Isabella smiled.

  Sleeping bags littered the floor, and small canvas tents were set up on ropes hung suspended between bookshelves. Though Isabella was right—they weren’t ants—they sure did a great job in recreating a large-scale model of the inner workings of an ant mound as they scurried this way and that.

  “How…how is this possible?” Caitlin asked.

  Before Isabella could speak, a small girl with pigtails and a muck-smeared face sprinted towards them. “Izzy!” she cried, leaping excitedly into Isabella’s arms and planting a wet kiss on her face.

  “Hey, Ruby.” Isabella chuckled, then placed the girl back down. “What have I told you about attacking me like that? One day, you’ll knock me down, and I won’t be able to get back up again.”

  “Did you find them? Did you? Did you?” Ruby asked, a sparkle in her eye as she bounced up and down with her hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Please tell me you did?”

  Isabella looked awkwardly back at her men. “No sign today,” she said sadly.

  Ruby’s excitement dissipated. Her head hung as she fixed her gaze on the floor.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll try again tomorrow. They can’t have gone far.”

  Caitlin was about to open her mouth to ask whom they searched for when the other woman caught her eye and gave her a look that suggested that now was not the time.

  Isabella bent down and rested her hands on her knees. “I tell you what, why don’t I come over later and read you a bedtime story? Any book you like.”

  An ember of Ruby’s excitement returned, though it was nothing compared to her initial greeting. “Any book I like?”

  “Any except those naughty ones that Quince keeps on the top shelf.” She winked.

  “Fine!” Ruby huffed before flashing a grin and kissing Isabella on the cheek. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” she responded, tousling the child’s hair. She watched as Ruby ran away and disappeared back into the throng.

  “Sweet girl,” Caitlin said.

  Isabella nodded. “Yeah. One of the sweetest.” She stared dreamily off for a moment before turning back to the others and muttering, “Come on.”

  Brisk and business-like again, she led them through the large open space, smiling and waving her hellos to people as she passed. Oscar, Dwight, and Howard flanked them, also muttering their greetings. Tom and Laurie walked practically shoulder-to-shoulder with Joe at their side.

  Caitlin found herself smiling at the sight of them. If Joe had
appeared out of place in the middle of the forest, he certainly didn’t seem to belong in the city. With his big beard and ten-gallon hat, he looked more like a warped character from an old western rather than a settler amongst these people who had found a home in the wasteland of the Madness.

  “You okay, Joe?” she called back.

  Joe nodded. “I ain’ts seen this many folks since…ever. Where did all these peoples come from?”

  This time, it was Oscar who answered. “Refugees. Wanderers. The lonely and the wounded. When the Madness came, it is said that the cities were the first to fall. The Madness spread and infected faster than any virus the world had ever seen. Before too long, the Mad were forced to abandon the cities and look out in the wild for food.”

  They reached a door at the end of a large room and stepped through, then made their way up a series of stairs and into a balconied room which overlooked the congregation below.

  “Only a handful of people stayed behind, barricaded in rooms within the city center with stores of tinned food and the barest minimum of produce.”

  Caitlin walked over to the balcony and looked over the crowd, noting then that the majority of them appeared to be women and children.

  “When foodstuffs grew scarce,” Isabella continued, joining her at the balcony, “we had to get brave. Open the doors and explore the remnants of the city. Over time, we found stragglers and loners, families and couples wandering through the streets, all drawn to the city from afar by the hope that something could still exist within. As the years passed, our community grew. We take in those who are lost and in need of aid. In need of a home.”

  Caitlin thought about this. How a city could be a beacon of hope for so many people still out there in the world. How people were drawn to the larger relics of the old world, rather than old wooden towns hidden in the forest. Maybe there’s something in that. She considered the possibilities. If she was looking to unite the world’s people once again, was the forest really the best place?