Abomination (The Pathfinders Book 1)

by Jane Dougherty

  Kat knocked out of an absurd sense of politeness.

  “Enter!”

  The voice was the same as ever—loud, with a hint of amusement. The door swung open onto a dark room lit only by the dim morning light that fell from the small barred window, and the play of flames from the bonfires.

  Jack Keane got up awkwardly from his squatting position on the floor. He was a big man, tall and broad-chested, with the same black hair as Tully. He was thinner than when Tully had seen him last, and the great beaming grin that spread across his face could not obliterate the hollow cheeks and their unhealthy hue.

  “Jesus, I’m stiff as a board. I dare say I’ll never dance Swan Lake again.”

  “Dad! They told me… I couldn’t quite believe it. What are you doing here?”

  “And I’m thrilled to see you too, son.” Jack raised his eyebrows but his eyes twinkled.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, how did you get here?”

  “Same way as you, I suppose. I fell down this bloody hole.”

  “Another wormhole?”

  “When the storm started, I went outside to get the goats in the shed and bugger me, but the shed had gone and there was just this hole in the ground! The ground must have shifted or the bloody goats butted me. Either way, I ended up falling in. It only seemed like about thirty seconds I was in there, but they tell me I missed the end of the world.”

  “’Fraid not, Dad. That’s about to hit us just as soon as the Burnt Man turns up with his diabolical henchmen.”

  “I thought this place was too good to last. Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Jeff,” Kat said. “He got hurt.” She was standing next to Tully, clutching Jeff’s limp hand.

  “We’ve already met—or sort of.” Jack was looking at Kat. Despite her obvious anxiety, she blushed as she held out her other hand.

  “Hello, I’m Kat.”

  “Jack.”

  Tully wasn’t sure he approved of the way Kat and his dad were looking at one another, nor the turn the conversation had taken. He shrugged, telling himself he was being childish, and laid Jeff down gently on the floor. He straightened up, hesitated for the barest fraction of a second then threw his arms around his father’s neck.

  Everything’s going to be all right, he told himself.

  “Hey! That’s more like it,” his dad said. “Now, let’s have a look at the veteran.”

  He took off his jacket and rolled it into a pillow, then carefully wiped Jeff’s sweat-tangled hair from his face. He grimaced. “Nasty.” He took off his shirt and ripped off one of the sleeves. “There should be a bit of water left in the jug over there.” Kat and Tully watched in admiring silence as he tore the sleeve into strips.

  “You’ll freeze in here without a shirt, Dad.”

  “And this young fella’s head’ll drop off with the gangrene if we leave all that muck in there.”

  Dipping the shirt cuff into the water, he wiped the dirt and grit out of the wound, opening it up again. Blood mixed with water ran down the side of Jeff’s face and Jack mopped it up with a clean piece of shirt. Jeff’s eyes flickered, and he frowned slightly with the pain.

  “At least the bleeding will have washed out some of the dirt,” Kat said. “As soon as it’s safe to move, we’ll get him to the pharmacy. There’s still some antiseptic cream left. The junkies can’t smoke it, sniff it or inject it. And it must taste bloody horrible or they’d have eaten it all by now.” Taking a piece of the shirt, she folded it into a compress then bound it to the wound with another strip. “Tully’s right, though. You will freeze if we don’t get you some more clothes.” She smiled, visibly relieved that Jeff’s wound was not more serious.

  Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “We used to do the Boxing Day dip in the sea off Salt House Dock when I was a kid. Now that was cold.”

  Kat laughed out loud this time. For some reason it annoyed Tully to see his father joking with this almost complete stranger. What about his boy, his Tully? And what about Carla? With a jolt he remembered about Carla’s dad, and his own father’s good humor seemed even more inappropriate. He felt awkwardness spreading a hot red blush across his face and turned away. “You stay here, Kat, and mind Jeff. I have to get back outside. Come on, Dad, you too. Stop playing the hero and put some clothes back on. And try to be helpful.”

  While Jack put on his only other shirt and a thick jumper, Kat eased Jeff’s head onto her lap and handed him his coat. Tully pulled the door closed behind them with an irritated gesture and ran across the uneven ground to the main entrance where the sound of desultory fighting was still ringing out.

  In his fear, Tully discovered new reserves of energy and he pounded across the cracked and fissured car park. Ice was falling again in a half-hearted fashion, hissing in the pools of burning fuel. He shivered and ran faster, straight to the service bay where Carla had been posted. He cut across the forecourt, ran around the lorry, ducked inside the cab. His stomach churned. There was nobody there. Up ahead, flashlight beams bounced crazily in all directions, and the war-like shouting had turned into excited cries of triumph. Tully pulled out a long kitchen knife and accelerated.

  Rounding the final fifty meters, the scene at the main entrance became clear. Ace was swaggering about, escorted by his cronies, all of them with a couple of rifles slung across their backs, brandishing an assortment of knives and javelins. A hysterical band of Flay seemed to be doing a war dance around a small, crumpled body.

  A group of a dozen enemy warriors squatted on the ground, bound together with clotheslines. Some hung their heads listlessly, but some of the heads lolled, the men unconscious or worse. Tully searched but couldn’t see Carla among the women crowded together on the edge of the beams of light. But he could see Flay warriors, patrolling the group of prisoners, turning now and then to push the girls back into line. He saw Joe stump over to the prisoners and kick one of them in the head. The head flew back and blood gushed from the nose.

  Tully swore. “Dad, scout around the area. Look in those wrecked vans. Carla’s got to be here somewhere.” Then he tore into the group of Flays. “Joe,” he roared, his fists clenched white in fury, “you’ll answer for that! Ace, get these men into order! I will not tolerate brutality. Where are Matt and Jim and the others?”

  Ace put his hands on his hips and gave Tully one of his twisted smiles. “Mopping up, I suppose.” He waved a hand vaguely into the darkness. “Over there somewhere.”

  Tully’s voice was cold. “We fought them off. That was enough. There were no orders to go after anybody.”

  Ace was still smiling. “That’s exactly what I told them, but I couldn’t hold them back, mutinous little bastards. You ought to court martial those two, especially Matt. He was most insubordinate, not like him at all.”

  Tully thought quickly. Ace and his butcher boys would be as likely to stab Matt and Jim in the back as bring them back. If he went with them, as soon as they were out of range of the flashlights, they’d get rid of him too. He called out, looking over at the group of women, “Any volunteers to find Jim and Matt?”

  Without hesitation, a dozen women pushed forward.

  “We’ll go, General,” Dee shouted. “No point asking that bunch of wankers. Jesus! It’s dangerous out there!” The women shrieked with laughter. Joe made a move toward Dee, his fist pulled back. Tully grabbed the fist and spun him around, hitting him in the face with his right. Joe’s nose burst and the prisoner with the bleeding face gurgled with painful laughter.

  Tully rubbed his sore knuckles and glared about him. “Anybody else feel the same way as Cro-Magnon here?”

  Most of the warriors hung their heads and shuffled their feet. There were one or two insolent faces, and Tully made a mental note never to turn his back on them. He knew that if he wasn’t there to stop them, most of the men would do whatever Ace told them. It wasn’t out of cruelty or vindictiveness but just plain fear, and in some cases, stupidity. His dad reappeared by the wreckage of a ca
mping car, carrying somebody in his arms.

  Oh Christ, no! Tully broke into a trot to join him, but Jack waved cheerily and Tully dragged his attention back to the problems of being a general.

  Dee took the liberty of grabbing a few flashlights and the rest of the arrows. Then she picked her team—a tall gangly girl who was a dead shot, a couple of sturdy young women who might have been truck drivers in another life and a tiny, dark-haired girl who looked as though she came from the same china doll shop as Dee. Tully looked at Dee and raised his eyebrows.

  Dee flashed him a porcelain smile. “If anybody’s going to find Matt, it’s me, and Zo here will find Jim.”

  Zo shuffled her feet and blushed. “I’ll be a scout. Just pass me a flashlight, and a walkie-talkie, if there’s one going spare. I’m useless with weapons anyway.”

  Tully raised a hand in farewell and the girls took off in the direction of the main road.

  “Bart, take Joe’s weapons. You three, get the prisoners on their feet, and Earl, organize carriers for the ones who can’t walk. Then Earl, take four men and keep watch here until the women get back. The rest of you, get moving back inside.”

  There were some sour looks, but Tully was pleasantly surprised to find that his orders were obeyed without discussion. Ace sauntered back, rifle slung over his shoulder at a jaunty angle, followed by his faithful bodyguards. Joe stumbled along, still covering his nose with both hands, followed by Max and Seb, their narrow, ferrety faces pinched with the cold. The prisoners were being helped to their feet and firmly, but not roughly, escorted by the rest of the Flay tribe.

  A single figure was left, a slight figure in a thick jacket, ice falling into the short chestnut bob of her hair. Tully’s heart leaped as he ran to her and took her in his arms.

  “I was wondering when you’d remember about me,” Carla said in a soft voice that was close to breaking. He held her tighter and hesitated, fumbling for words that wouldn’t sound trite or frivolous.

  “I never forgot you, you daft girl. Never could,” he said finally.

  “I thought you had. I wanted you so much to…to just be here.” Carla raised her head “Why didn’t you come when I called for you? I thought you’d have heard me, wherever you were.”

  Tully shook his head, not sure how to explain. “I didn’t hear. Wasn’t listening for you, I suppose.” His eyes filled with fear that Carla wouldn’t understand. “I couldn’t let myself think about you, wonder where you were, what you were doing, whether you were…safe. I’d never have been able to do it, all this play-acting.”

  “Yes, you would,” Carla murmured. “You love it, really.”

  Tully shook his head again. “You’re wrong,” he said gently, and he knew Carla believed him. “If I once let you into my thoughts while I was out there playing guerrillas, with real weapons, up against those Gouge maniacs, they’d have got me.” He frowned and tried again. “You mean too much to me, Carla, for there to be room for anything else—”

  Carla stopped him with a kiss, a long, deep kiss. But when they broke away, the awfulness was still there. She held Tully tightly, hiding her face in the collar of his jacket. “I missed you so much, Tully. I never imagined…especially the last half hour, with Matt. Far worse than playing cowboys and Indians had been.”

  Tully stroked her hair. “We’ll get him back. The girls will find him.”

  Carla shook her head. “You didn’t see what they made him do.” The words came out in a frantic rush. “Ace made him fight one of the prisoners. He was only a kid, not much older than Jeff. He was a Matonge and Christ knows what their Holy Man pours into them to get the warriors fired up. Ace gave the kid a javelin and forced Matt to fight him. He couldn’t get out of it. The kid would have killed him.” Carla ran out of breath and gave a sharp sob.

  “So what happened?” Tully asked gently.

  Carla spoke into Tully’s shoulder, so quietly he could hardly hear what she said.

  “Matt killed him. And I don’t think he’ll rest now until he’s killed Ace.”

  Tully was shocked. Matt was so calm, so steady and dependable. He could easily imagine him refusing to fight an enemy he saw as just a child. Easy, too, to imagine how Matt must be feeling. Carla was shivering now as the shock kicked in and her cheeks were damp with tears. Tully held her tightly, whispering nonsense into her hair, until the shivering stopped and she wiped her face with the back of her gloved hand. Their arms wrapped around one another. They made their way through the murky morning light across the shattered concourse with its scattering of spitting fires.

  They walked in silence, picking their way around wreckage and fissures. Tully’s face wore a deep frown and he chewed the inside of his lip. Carla sighed deeply. She stood straighter, and her face wore an expression of determination. She was ready for the next part of the plan. She gave Tully a gentle squeeze.

  “What’s up? You haven’t opened your mouth for at least two minutes.”

  “I was just thinking…” He was thinking that with Carla’s parents both as good as dead, it just didn’t seem fair that of all the people to fall out of the next-wormhole-along, it should have been his dad. “About my dad. Listen, Carla—”

  Carla interrupted. “Please don’t apologize for your father not being dead. Okay, so it’s not fair. Tell me, what in all this god-awful mess is fair? If I can’t have my own dad, then there’s nobody else I’d rather we found than your dad, Tully. So please, don’t worry about me. I’m not going to sulk or anything.”

  There was a silence then they both spluttered with laughter at the idea of Carla sulking. With a sudden pang, Tully realized that he noticed each time Carla even smiled now. He had difficulty remembering the days when a bright, sunny grin never seemed to leave her face. If anybody could get her back to her old carefree self, though, it was Jack Keane. He’d make a dog laugh.

  Tully put a hand on the door handle and stopped. For a minute he thought he was dreaming. Then he looked at Carla.

  “I know,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Your dad’s a head case.”

  Tully shook his head in disbelief. His dad was singing some cheesy ballad at the top of his powerful, if not altogether accurate, tenor.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Belle had gone, taken to the pharmacy to get her leg seen to. Kat had slipped over to the kitchens and brought back everything edible she could find for breakfast. Carla was sitting on the floor, leaning her head on Jack Keane’s shoulder. She hadn’t needed to tell him about her parents. There had been no need. None of them had any way of knowing how many survivors of the Abomination were still alive or where they were. The very fact that he was there, his arm around her shoulders, gave her comfort and a glimmer of hope.

  “So we’re just waiting for these two warrior friends of yours to get back from the battlefield, are we?” Jack asked Tully.

  “And a couple of the girls,”

  “Then we’re off,” Carla added.

  “Any idea where to? Not that I mind. As long as it’s somewhere beans haven’t been discovered.”

  Carla laughed aloud, throwing her head back and hooting, just like in the old days.

  It’s going to be all right, Tully thought. Dad will get us out of this. And it hit him that until that moment he had been counting on himself and no one else. It felt good to be able to count on somebody else for a change. A shy knock at the door brought them all back to the present. Jim poked his head around the door.

  “Is this a private party or can anybody join in?”

  “We’re easy,” Jack replied, “as long as you bring your own beer.”

  Jim slipped into the room, followed hesitantly by Matt. Matt kept his head down, letting his eyes flick from one to another, but never letting them rest long enough to make contact. His open, frank expression had disappeared and he looked pale and haggard. His face and his clothes were covered in blood. Zo and Dee hung back, unsure of their place in what was beginning to look like a family get-together.

  Jac
k patted the floor next to him. “Come on in, girls. There’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind squashing up.”

  Dee looked at Zo then they both looked at the big grinning stranger through lowered lashes.

  “Is Belle…?” Zo asked timidly.

  “At the infirmary getting her wound cleaned up,” Kat replied.

  “We’ll just go see how she is, then…” Dee couldn’t take her eyes off Matt, who just stared at the space between his feet. “Shouldn’t Matt…”

  Jim shot her a quick look and shook his head. “In a minute, when he’s—”

  “I’m okay! It’s just scratches. Stop fuckin’ goin’ on about it, will you?”

  Dee backed off, her face creased in sympathy. “Is it all right if we come back later?”

  “You have to!” Carla was emphatic. “And don’t be long, either. There’s something important we need to talk about.”

  Dee nodded and she and Zo ducked out of the door.

  “Sit down, son. You look ready to drop.” Jack gestured to Matt to sit down beside him. Matt got down stiffly and squatted on his hams, working his knuckles nervously. Tully hunkered down in front of him, worried at the glazed look in his friend’s eyes. While Jim launched into a diversionary description of how Dee and her Amazons—as he’d dubbed them—had come charging to the rescue, scattering drax and the terrified remnants of the Matonge and Stranglers, Jack turned to Matt, his voice dipping low beneath Jim’s banter.

  “Did you want to do it?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “Did somebody make you do it?”

  Matt cracked his knuckles and gave a brief nod.

  Jack looked quickly at his bruised face. “And you let the other fella knock you about first, didn’t you?”

  Matt raised his head and turned to show Jack the ugly gash along the jaw line. Then he held out his left arm where a hastily applied bandage around the fleshy part near the shoulder was already tinged with pink. The slash along his thigh was visible through his torn jeans.