Red Asphalt: Raptor Apocalypse Book 2

by Steve R. Yeager

  “See him?” Eve asked, breaking the long silence.

  “No.” His eyes had not adjusted completely to the brightness. He blinked rapidly then raised the binoculars and scanned the streets.

  “How about in there?”

  He switched to the building across the street. When reaching the seventh floor, he adjusted the zoom. The raptor corpses he'd left behind were gone.

  And…good. Cory hadn't taken it. Lying in the shadows by a puddle of water was his Remington 870 shotgun. He'd need to fetch it soon.

  Something moved in the building, catching his eye. He scooted sideways to get a better view and steadied the binoculars.

  “So?” she asked.

  “Only some crows picking over what we left behind.”

  “What about Cory?”

  “Nope. Nothing. If he did leave, then he's probably long gone. Maybe he'll come back in a few days.”

  “I have to find him. Now.”

  “You've said that already. Why? He left you behind. So, doesn't that say something? You are welcome to stay here with Kate and me. There's plenty for us, all of us. And it's relatively safe.” Jesse lowered the binoculars. “So, why go after him? It's way too dangerous. South?” He chuckled once.

  Eve bit one of her nails and then said, “I just have to.” She looked away. “We were supposed to get married. He was going to be my husband. Don't you understand? Don't you know what that feels like? I can't stay here. No, I have to go after him.”

  Jesse had been close with Amy, so he understood, a little. But thinking about getting married now when the world had gone so far into the shitter? That didn't add up.

  “He knows about the virus. Don't you want to see this end?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do something about it. Staying here, don't you get it? It's like giving up. Like death, but a different kind of death.”

  What she was saying was ridiculous. Death? This was life. Living. Just a few days ago, he'd made his choice between life and death. What did she know? Leave the city behind and go out into the world?

  No, that was no better than death.

  He made a fist and began tapping it against his injured chin. It stung, but it helped him to think. Maybe there was something he could do for her.

  “I can take you a little ways. To someone I know just south of the city, but no farther.”

  She smiled. That smile twisted until she was biting her lip. “You can? When?”

  “Now.”

  “You can't go now. Not the way you are. Not with those stitches. But soon, right?”

  “I'll be fine.”

  “You can barely stand. What if we have to run?”

  “Then I'll run.”

  One minute she wanted to go, the next she did not? He lowered the binoculars and let them dangle around his neck while he rested his backside against the edge of the building. He looked at the green leaves already sprouting in his garden. The mounds of dirt where potatoes were sending up new shoots. The cisterns that had filled with rainwater. The solar panels, wired together and operational. The compost bin. He thought of all the things he had built up over the past year. This was his home. To leave this place behind would be crazy. Cory had left her behind, too. If the guy wanted her around, he would have taken her along. So, he didn't understand at all why she wanted to go, but he would take her south and then return. It was the least he could do for her help patching him up.

  “First, I need to fetch my shotgun,” he said.

  She smiled. “No, first I need to feed you.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry?”

  “I am, but having you die on me along the way won't help.”

  Turning, he choked on a laugh.

  Then he stopped cold.

  Kate was squatting on the narrow edge of the building. To one side was the rooftop. To the other side was her death. A slight shift in her balance either way would decide her fate.

  “Kate,” Jesse said slowly. He reached out for her and grasped only air. His vision narrowed until she was all he could see. She appeared to be no more than a few inches from his fingertips, but he couldn't seem to reach her.

  Suddenly, he saw her totter and drop over the edge. Time stretched. He screamed, “No!” Then he rushed forward and saw her falling away toward the street in slow motion. Her arms and legs were spinning in circles, and she was reaching up as if to ask him, “Why?”

  He imagined all this in the time it took his heart to beat once.

  “Get away from there,” he snapped.

  Not moving from where he stood, he raised his arms, ignoring the sudden pain, and gently beckoned her to come to him. She deftly lifted herself onto her toes and hopped down to the rooftop with an air of nonchalance. No big deal, she seemed to be saying.

  “Don't ever do that again,” Eve said. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  Kate ignored her and went to stand beside Jesse. She looked up at him, seeming puzzled. He wanted to touch her and make sure she was real, but she drew away before he could.

  Eve helped him descend the stairs and return to the main living area on the fourth floor. There, he plopped down on a sofa set against an office partition and stared ahead at the open kitchen area. He wanted to think a few things through, but his shoulder throbbed enough to make stringing more than two coherent thoughts together difficult. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, trying not to notice that he could hear each and every thud of his heart pounding away like a giant drum in his head.

  He counted each beat.

  Sometime later, Eve woke him and helped him to a table in the kitchen. On the countertop behind her were the basics: a microwave, a hotplate, a miniature refrigerator, and a stainless steel sink. All were part of the former office's break room. She set a bowl on the table then sat in a chair across from him. She brushed a lock of hair over her ear and smiled.

  Jesse thought she was quite an attractive woman. It had been a very long time since he had even seen a woman. So, attractive was a relative term. But if he had met her before the raptors had destroyed everything, she would have made him turn his head and watch as she walked past. He caught himself staring where he shouldn't and glanced away, scolding himself, thinking he was far too old for her.

  A sudden vision of what would happen to her if she ever ended up in the hands of the wrong people slapped him back to reality. Amy. He wouldn't let that happen. Didn't know why, but just wouldn't. He'd take her to Rose, who had a place south of the city. If they couldn't find Cory there, then he'd bring her back here. Even if that meant he had to bend the truth to get her to come along.

  “So, if I am going to take you south, you've gotta do what I say when I say it, okay?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Where exactly?”

  “I can take you as far as a lady I know. Well, not really a lady, but, well, she's just Rose. She runs this trade outpost off the main highway. I haven't spoken with her in months, but we've had dealings in the past, and she's treated me fairly each time. She's tough, really. She controls most of the territory just south of the city and might know if Cory passed through her territory.” He picked up a spoon and dipped it into the steaming bowl of soup. “Kate, though, she stays here with me. She doesn't go with you.”

  Eve appeared suspicious. He dipped the spoon into the soup, brought it to his lips, and slurped the warm broth. It tasted good and soothed his raw throat.

  “Okay, I understand,” she finally said.

  “Good. So,” he said, “you've been with Cory a long time then?”

  Eve sighed. “Yes.” She affixed him with an assessing gaze. “We wanted to get married someday, but we just couldn't seem to find a preacher to marry us.”

  Jesse chuckled. Married? Laughing hurt, but it felt good to know he could. Maybe it was a silly game she was playing with him about getting married to that asshole, but something about holding onto tradition in this shit-filled world raised his respect for her a notch or two.

  “Then, he's going to c
ome back for you,” he said. “No way he'd leave someone like you with an old fart like me.”

  She grinned wryly, but remained quiet while he continued to slurp his soup.

  Finished, he set down the spoon and rested his elbows on the table. “I want to say, too, I mean, thank you for all you have done for me.”

  “You're welcome,” she replied. “You were the one who saved us. I should be thanking you.”

  He grunted.

  “You feeling okay, then?”

  “I'm fine,” he said, lying. Everything still hurt like a son of a bitch. “One more day. If he doesn't come back by then, I'll—”

  He heard something coming up behind him. He twisted sideways, wishing he hadn't. Pain hit him like a fist to the kidneys, and he nearly blacked out. As his vision cleared, he noticed Kate. She was holding a shotgun. She had his Remington 870.

  It was pointed at him.

  “Whoa, there.” He tried to raise a hand, but pain kept it down on the tabletop.

  Kate lowered the shotgun and placed it on the table. Mouth opening and closing, he exchanged puzzled looks with Eve then pulled the shotgun into his lap. Pain aside, it felt good to have the Remington so near him again. How she had snuck out and retrieved it didn't seem possible, but she had.

  “Don't…don't ever do that again. Don't run off. Ever,” he said. He felt odd scolding her. It had been many years since he had been around kids. He was out of practice. But it was just too dangerous for her to be outside alone.

  She went to the corner of the room and sank to the floor. She pulled out a ragged cloth doll from inside her tattered jacket and began stroking the doll's orange yarn hair.

  Jesse watched. The world seemed to shrink and press in on him from all sides. He knew that he must save this girl because Hannah had told him to do so, but now it seemed he must also keep her near to maintain his own sanity.

  Would she obey him? Or would she spook and run off?

  Leaning back in his chair, he turned to Eve. “Yes, I feel better. Much better, in fact. Maybe now is the right time to go.” He tried to rise, but wobbled unsteadily and had to brace himself on the chair back. “I just have to collect some things first. Once I get those we can go.”

  “Not yet,” she said. She helped him to stand then pushed him backward until he was sitting on the sofa. She sat down next to him and touched his abraded chin, making a tsking noise.

  “No, not just yet, mister. Soon, though, soon.”

  Jesse sucked in a breath. She smelled of floral hand soap and soup. He felt the warmth radiating from her body. She was so close. Too close. He could hardly breathe.

  -8-

  X MARKS THE SPOT

  SEBASTIAN HELD THE knife against the bearded man's throat and waited for a response from the crowd, knowing quite well what they would ask for. They called out foul jeers and screamed their demands for blood in an orgy of hissing, booing, and chanting. As the crowd's mood grew more hateful, Sebastian's mood soured too, but his hate was not directed at the man standing before him.

  He watched the bearded man carefully, and when the man's shoulders slumped, it became obvious what decision had been made.

  “I'll live,” the bearded man said. “I want to… I want to live. Whatever you want. I'll do it. Whatever. I want to live.”

  Sebastian withdrew the knife. It left behind a thin red line.

  The man dropped to his knees and started pleading. “I want to live. I want to. Please.”

  Sebastian inclined his head, signaling David to be ready. “I accept this. You are now one of us.” He raised the man and embraced him, patting his back warmly, and then he let him go. “Welcome to the fold, brother.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. I'll be—”

  “But,” Sebastian added, stooping to pick up the microphone. He turned and looked out across the sea of people, pretending to pick out individuals in the crowd before he spoke. “My brothers. This man has acted against us. Said words against us. Things that cannot be taken back with a simple apology.”

  “What?” the freed man said from behind.

  Sebastian turned. David and two others grabbed and held the man in place while Sebastian moved closer, twirling the knife tip in the air. “Open your mouth, brother.”

  The man shook his head as if his thoughts had become muddled.

  “Don't make me ask twice.”

  “Why? Come on. Please. I said I'd join. What? What else do you want?”

  “It is not what I want. No, this is what they need.”

  “What? Who? What are you going to do?”

  Sebastian ignored the question. He handed the microphone off to someone else, and nodded.

  David punched the bearded man in the stomach and slipped behind him. The man tried to double over, but David held him still. In a panic, and with his eyes wide, the bearded man opened his mouth to draw in a breath. Quick as a snake, Sebastian struck, reaching out and pinching the man's tongue between his thumb and index finger. Holding it tight, he stretched the tongue as far as it would go. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced underneath the pink flesh. He purposely did not cut all the way through.

  The bearded man's reaction came on instinctively as Sebastian had expected. He struggled to free himself. His tongue, attached by only a small flap of remaining tissue, slapped wetly against the sides of his cheeks.

  David pinched the man's cheeks to hold him steady. Blood drained from the lacerated tongue and splatted in dime-sized droplets on the stage. With one quick jerk, Sebastian grabbed the dangling piece of remaining flesh and tore it away.

  The man tried to scream, but could only manage a bloody gurgle.

  Sebastian stepped to the front of the stage, holding the knife and severed tongue above his head for all to see.

  The crowd roared its approval.

  Having received the response he expected, he tossed the ruined flesh at the prisoners near the foot of the stage and accepted the microphone from the man standing next to him. “We welcome our new brother! The blood price has been paid! He is now one of us! And we will protect him from this day forward.”

  Whistles and fist-pumps accompanied the cheers. The bearded man was released to stand on his own. Swaying, he alternated between shivering and shaking. His arms wrapped around his belly, and he shut his eyes tight and moaned. Then he fell to his knees and coughed blood on the stage.

  Posing for the crowd, Sebastian continued. “All we want is harmony. But for us to have this peace, sacrifice is required. As you, my brothers, have all sacrificed.”

  He pointed to a random man in the crowd. “You have sacrificed, my brother.” He pointed to another man. “And you, too. And you. And in our shared sacrifice, we have become bonded as one.” He interlocked his fingers around the microphone.

  Sebastian waited while the bearded man was dragged off the stage. The parking lot became a cheering, bouncing sea of humanity. He continued to nod occasionally at those in the audience and made eye contact with as many as he could, waiting for the deafening roar to die to a level where he knew he could be heard.

  “Now, as to our final item of business, and before we kick off this year's roundup, we must absorb these newly found brothers into our family. And how is it that we should do this today?”

  He waited on the confused reactions of his audience. Not surprisingly, they stayed with him well enough.

  “Here with me on stage, we have the leader of our defeated foes as our most special of guests.” He turned, open-handed, and indicated to the chained man on the roadie case at center stage.

  The former leader remained defiant and kept his eyes cast down.

  Sebastian raised the microphone again. “Since I serve you, my brothers, I will ask this of you, should he live or should he die?”

  “Death!” they replied as one. Then the chanting drumbeat began again, “Death! Death! Death!”

  The bloodlust was so high that Sebastian caught himself panting along with their chants. He embraced the moment and turned to walk t
he stage like a rock star. He moved about gape-mouthed and soaked up the raw energy flowing to him. It filled him with a savage lust. When he was done, he would need the girl. He hoped she was up for what he had planned.

  If not, there were always others.

  He marched over to the tied-up leader. The man had collapsed forward onto his knees. The chains shackling him pulled tight as he forced his hands together in prayer. “God willing,” he said, widening his eyes. “I am not yet ready to die.”

  Not so tough after all, he thought. “Repeat that so the people can hear,” Sebastian said. He held up a hand to silence the crowd. “Go on.” He put the microphone to the defeated man's lips.

  “I don't want to die,” the man breathed into the microphone.

  Sebastian snapped away the microphone and spun to face the crowd. “What do you say, my brothers? Should he live? Should he die?”

  “Death!” the audience shouted in unison then resumed their repeated calls.

  Sebastian cupped a hand to his ear as if he had not heard what they had said. The roars and chants grew louder until it became an angry furor.

  Such hate. He felt it too, viscerally.

  “Very well,” he said mostly to himself. With a mutually understood signal, he indicated to David that he was ready. The order was relayed to those waiting offstage. Men rushed onstage and unchained the former leader.

  The former leader smiled. Sebastian smiled back wickedly. The men who unchained the leader began to tie ropes to the man's ankles and attach those ropes to anchors on the stage. Then they strung more ropes through pulleys hung from the thirty foot tall poles on either side of the stage and wrapped the ends of the ropes to the man's wrists.