by Angela White
The merchants darted away in fear and confusion–half a dozen sly puppets scurrying out of her path. Guns were the law in Afterworld.
Seconds more of this set stance from the woman found the thieves banished back to their stoops and flaps. She had items for trade, and the anger to punish those who tried to take advantage, but these vultures weren’t worth a lesson, only her lead.
Border towns were as rare the Caravans, and twice as soulless. If she fell before them, these men would not offer help, only an attack. They scavenged, thieved from those in need–she would never willingly haggle with their like. She spent her dust with those who were worthy, those who deserved the patronage. The rest were no better than animals.
Before the war, Alexa had mostly stayed away from other people, but there was a feeling of something being in Lexington, someone crucial to her quest… and that ring of importance said it (they) couldn’t be found in any other place.
Slap… slap!
A tattered American symbol flying over one of the smallest store-tents drew the woman, and she turned that way with a smoothness her injury didn’t impede. Ignoring the watching hawkers and their instant, impotent outrage, her boots made no noise on the dirt hardpan as she headed for the fluttering flag.
The decoration was the equivalent of suicide for a businessman–proclaiming them to honor the old ways that had destroyed so much–and Alexa instantly respected the one who had put it there. Love of country was part of what she’d come for, as was courage.
Before she reached the battered, green vinyl under the flag, the tent flap opened. From the dimness, a cloaked man of tall stature and wide shoulders stepped into the bracing wind. The sense of being pulled faded.
This merchant didn’t rush to be useful, instead keeping his head bowed in respect. When he waited patiently, hood hiding his face, Alexa was instantly comforted. He wasn’t a vulture, like the others here… and he was strong. She could feel it emanating from his healthy form in thick waves.
She looked toward his store-tent, and the merchant immediately held the flap open for her, moving with a casual grace that she admired.
Alexa stepped inside with a hand still resting on one of her Colts, as a warning to those watching with heated glares. To have one old world supporter in town was a surprise–two was a threat, and it impressed her that they allowed this seller to stay. In the other places she’d been to since the End, flying the red, white, and blue was an instant battle to be survived. It said a lot about the man now closing out the dust with a light hand on the zipper.
Alexa evaluated the layout of the small store in seconds, marking neat displays of handmade firearms and bins of ammunition. Since the war, life anywhere depended on guns… and the men to use them. All of her crew would be gunslingers. Was this hard loner the first?
Edward kept a clear distance, able to feel the woman evaluating, determining his worth. Would he be accepted, rescued from the self-imposed prison he had created? Was it finally time for his real life to begin?
“May I offer you a drink?” He slid the hood back as he spoke, exposing black waves and a face roughened by the brutal Afterworld sun.
Alexa studied him. He was clearly no stranger to survival. It was evident in the cold eyes that watched her, expecting trouble, but also in the way his hand stayed near the 9mm on his hip. He had that fighter’s steel she needed… but, would he kill for her? This would be no easy quest.
Edward looked back just as intently. Tall, with uncountable blonde braids falling into thick ponytails that hung to her hips, the wide forehead and that thick nose fit with those remorseless blue eyes. However, the soft curve of her jaw and delicate arch of brows hinted at a softer side he thought few were probably lucky enough to know. The merchant suddenly wanted to be counted one of those.
Before he could repeat the question, Alexa answered, “I have no thirst… only a hunger.”
Her raspy voice rolled through the canvas like a match across sandpaper, snagging, bringing heat. Edward’s tone deepened. “What would please you, Mistress?”
That one word sent a short-lived smile across her weathered lips, “To be a man up when I leave this place.”
Alexa took a step closer, not caring about the scarlet drops trailing from her leg. “Do you have a mind to fill that need, tradesman?”
Edward nodded slowly, heart thumping with anxiety that didn’t bleed through his tones. “Aye. Nothing, but ghosts hold me here.”
“Bones are to be buried, not brought along for this quest,” Alexa warned sharply. “I need men, fighters.”
“Aye, Lady. I am that.” Edward felt her strength, and a dark, endless well began to fill with hope. She sounded like a true leader...
The woman hardened herself against the silent pleading in his stiff body language. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
“With America,” his answer came instantly.
“As do mine,” Alexa confided. She went on before he could make the mistake of questioning her words, of asking for proof. “I offer no pay, no promises. I will not swear to protect your life.”
Edward’s voice was surprisingly bitter, considering how much he wanted to go, to leave this place behind, “The quest above all else. I know the code.”
Satisfied the merchant really did,–his tone said that he, too, had been to hell–Alexa asked the required questions quickly. “You’d go where I do? Abide me?”
Edward didn’t consider saying no, not with her vibrant sense of authority filling his canvas. “I would… and my thanks for the asking.”
“My Honor, Horseman. You are the one called that?”
Alexa extended a scarred hand, head swimming with exhaustion. The battle in the desert had drained the small bits of energy she’d managed to glean since escaping the government bunker. She needed this part over with now, so that she could recharge.
“I was.” Edward let his big hand move towards hers. His reputation had grown if she’d tracked him down from inside the Wastelands by that name. He hadn’t been called such since before the war of 2012… before his nature had gone from caregiver to life-taker.
Alexa pulled hard as they touched, drawing his energy. Willing killer or not, she needed him in more ways than just the obvious.
She was a magic-user!
Edward stiffened, but didn’t protest. Her drawing was the feel of icy water on unexpected skin, followed by the searing heat of flames. Sulphur and rose scents filled his nose.
He’d felt her calling out in need, even before seeing her. Hadn’t it brought him from his tent, when little else did? Edward shuddered as the heat increased.
Alexa shoved herself back, staggered down to her knees as his energy began to merge with her own. She mentally directed it toward her wounds, not looking up.
Her ways were different, even for Afterworld, but she waited for his reaction without much concern. He wanted to be free of this place, this life. His silence was screaming it, and she doubted he would pass up the opportunity. Many creatures, much more dangerous than her, roamed man’s roads now. Magic was easy enough to accept in comparison.
Thankfully, the rest of this apocalypse land was slowly coming to the same conclusions. Still shunned, magic-users were no longer being driven out of the scattered groups of refugees–unlike in the beginning, when the war first allowed nightmares to become reality. In Afterworld, one such as her could be useful, depending upon what battle for survival was being fought… and the price. Nothing was free in Afterworld–certainly not the talents she had to offer.
Head bowed, trembling, Alexa’s breathless rasp was still one of power. “I now give you one chance to back out… to live. After this, only bullets come to those who leave my side before the quest ends.”
“Aye. That’s clear enough.”
Alexa heard his light steps moving away, but still didn’t look up, wasn’t sure she could yet. She needed five minutes to recharge, and that amount of time had almost cost her the quest more than once already. One of those mistake
s had come recently, and left her with a slug in her thigh and rage in her heart. Regan would pay for his good aim, and so would the guard’s one-eyed boss.
Despite the merchant’s calmness, Alexa tensed as he returned. His boots stopped by her head–sturdy, made to endure this rugged land as much as their owner.
A fur blanket dropped over her shoulders an instant later.
“Mmm...” Alexa closed her eyes in bliss at the warmth. It had been so cold in the desert!
Her moan sent a flare of want into Edward’s gut, and he quickly moved back. He’d lost his submissive wife in the war, and this was no cheap slam to be ridden and escaped afterward. This woman was lethal.
And I’ll die on her quest. Edward was suddenly sure of it. He should send her away… “I have a room empty.”
Her raspy chuckle in response tugged on his gentler side. Many seasons had passed since Edward had heard amusement, been the one to cause it. His presence for the last years had only brought scorn… and bloodshed.
“A canvas room is always empty.”
Edward snorted at the military joke, “So it is, Lady, but mine lies under our feet.”
Wary, Alexa grunted her consent, but didn’t move from the warmth of the fur. His energy was repairing, aiding, strengthening… and it hurt. Her own life force was very defensive.
Sensing her weakness, Edward knelt down. “May I?”
She grunted again, head still bowed, “My permission… and my gratitude, tradesman. It was a long trip out.”
“You came from the Zone?”
“More than one.”
Alexa flashed to the battle she had clearly lost control of –to the tremor-storm that had saved her, but not left enough bodies. Even now, Corbin and Regan were likely on the way here. They wouldn’t find her underground, though, and she was thankful for this merchant’s defiant sign. The tattered flag said more about him than the neatness of his store, or the very low prices chalked on the board over the thin wooden counter.
Steeling himself to the feel, Edward lifted the woman carefully but without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he had shared his energy, though it hadn’t felt nearly as intense. He wasn’t comfortable with magic-users, but he didn’t hate or fear them, either. Since the war, everything had changed–even reality. Adapting was the key.
Using his feet to open the cover to his hideout, Edward was aware that she was judging his value even as he gave aid. He had expected to dislike whoever finally saw his worth–there were few happy endings to journeys like these–but instead, found his heart eager to serve.
When did death become so mundane to me? Edward wondered briefly. There was no mistaking the feel, not since the war… and the aftermath that had turned him into a murderer.
Alexa tensed upon seeing the open hole in the parched dirt. She’d escaped the compound, but she wasn’t free. Corbin would never give up the hunt, and because of his connections, killing him wasn’t an option. He knew where her kids were, where they would be in the future–all of them. Until she had another way to locate them, that one-eyed bastard had a pass on her wrath. Regan, however…
The need to comfort the trembling woman had Edward hurrying carefully into the darkness with his prize. “Half a minute, and then we’ll have light–no longer.”
Edward immediately cursed himself for putting an exact time on it, and then felt his lips curl up in distain. Time meant nothing now.
He didn’t fumble or feel weak, as he moved them down the ladder, and the warrior allowed herself a rare moment of comfort. Eyes closing, Alexa burrowed against his thick chest like a lover.
His clean, musky smell was tempting, but she didn’t draw more energy. Where they were going next, he would have need of it. Another of her fighters was begging to be found (saved), but before that, some of her children would be set free. She would live with that guilt no longer.
The darkness was complete as he pulled the lid closed and drew a deadbolt that didn’t echo due to a light touch. Those outside would think they were still bartering… in one form or another. Unless they knew of this hole, then blood might spill. It was a risk to let this stranger take her below the ground, but in 2016, that’s all life was anyway–a risk.
The steps went on for what seemed like much longer, but by her count, they were on solid ground before the thirty second mark.
“Lights.”
Instantly, a dim, blue glow brightened the dank cavern that was really a half-collapsed section of the government bunker that edged this town. Filled with mud that had leveled the walls in places, it was an enormous room with dark doorways and tunnels leading to all ends of the abandoned complex. One small side of the area was nearly pristine. Edward headed that way.
The other was like looking in a museum window at a display marked: War of 2012. There were rusted guns and shell casings, and even mildewed smears still visible on the walls under artwork long since hidden by the black mold crawling up seams and sills. There were also graying bones in the corner, but it wouldn’t bother her to sleep here. It was a leftover from the other world, one she’d seen too many times to be upset over.
Stacks of cobwebbed chairs and machines lining the room winked in the soft glow, and Alexa turned her attention to what lay above. The panels of lights and maps faded into sleep mode as she watched, and she felt respect for his ingenuity. Despite the damage, he had gotten some of the old technology to work.
She grinned. “Clever. I am in great need of that skill.”
Edward opened his mouth… closed it. He already liked her praise–a lot.
Aware of his response, Alexa leaned a bit deeper into his warm embrace, testing his character. Her lips brushed his jaw. “Would you have your service repaid in such a manner?”
If he chose to trade, she would honor it–and leave him here come dawn.
Alexa was gently held back, and then lowered to a half-filled air mattress near the steps. For an instant, there was the sense of his body about to follow hers down… and then she was alone on the neatly made pallet.
“I’d talk about it another time...” Still fighting the lust, Edward moved back another step. “But Afterworld demands debts are settled while both people still live, so here’s what I want... To know we fight for New America. I can give everything to that.”
Braced, Edward waited for the scorn and mockery those words usually brought. Someone who could control horses through the violent weather was much sought after, but being a patriot was not.
Alexa understood what wasn’t said. Would-be masters came asking for him, as she may have had to if not for the flag, but once inside, his loyalties became clear and he was left behind. Especially by the women, who were more than half of the leaders she had come across since the war, but also by the few men still trying to gather an army to protest that shift in power.
Her hand tensed automatically as she answered. “I seek those who came before us.”
Edward’s eyes widened. That legend was one he soaked up eagerly. To think that there was another life to be had, a second chance, no matter who you were before… what you’d done.
He stared in shock. “It is I who owe you.”
Alexa leaned back onto the pallet, but never took her eyes from his. Almost clean, the smell of it wasn’t one that she would mind on her skin.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’d die in Safe Haven, or trying to prove it exists!”
The woman nodded, warming to him, “And you shall get your chance. So we both shall.”
Too weary to resist the exhaustion, her eyes closed. “I’m Alexa.”
“Edward. May I see to your wound?”
Satisfied, the leader gave her first of six a stunning smile, sending him to his knees in a dazed awe. Her pleasure was designed to draw, to unite. Normally used for ties with a mate, she was employing it to bind fighters to her for the quest. Where Adrian Mitchel led, Safe Haven followed. The same was true of his only daughter.
Bone Dust & Beginnings
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Free, by Angela White:
The Change
Dear Reader,
Try to imagine… Five hundred years into the future, nine of every ten babies born are female. Men have been enslaved for their own protection and the only way to get a man is to enter the Network Games and win.
The catch?
It is a live battle to the death, where competition is fierce and even the winners leave damaged.
Finally of legal age and ready to challenge the rulers who make them all exist in this torment, one fiery female will put everything on the line to rescue her stolen mate from the Games and create a world where the Network doesn’t exist.
Who’s ready to play?
Prologue
Southern Ohio Recovery Zone
512 AW
1
“There they are! Stay down.”
Hiding in the hollow trunk of a tree, the two thin fugitives stayed still and covered with their dark cloaks as the riders crested the hill near them. If they were caught, the teenage boy would be added to the round up. His father wouldn’t be brought back alive.
In the apocalyptic landscape that was framed by early summer, the only road into a nearby town became obscured with dust from three dozen horses. On these foaming animals were some of the most intimidating warriors that the Network employed. Their cold banner, a glaringly red arrow outlined in black, was held high in warning of who they were.
Behind the riders were a line of bound men and boys on strong leashes. Forced to run or die, the slaves were barely getting enough air to breathe. As the group cleared the trees and entered the farmlands, the female workers they showered with dust winced at the cruel treatment of the males, but didn’t interfere. The citizens of New America had learned not to challenge their rulers. The price was often more than they could pay.
The heavy hooves and harsh coughs echoed to the townspeople ahead of them and the single sentry called out a late warning.