Hellbenders

by James Axler

  The girl recognized this woman as Anita, who had worked at the palace as a cook and had also whored for Baron Al when he had felt the urge in the still of the night. She had thought that lending her favors to the baron may save her from being sacrificed, but she had already born two children to different fathers, proving that her fertility was down to herself rather than any one man, and the baron had picked her as one of the first to board the wag. She was only in her middle thirties, with plenty of time to bear more children for the desperate men of Summerfield.

  Ayesha despised the woman, as she had been sly and bitchy to the girl when the baron had been absent, yet sweet and nice to her when he was around. Yet it gave her little pleasure to see the woman so defeated. As she gazed up, her eyes meeting Ayesha’s, the girl could see that Anita had been crying the whole time since they had left the ville, her eyes little more than bloodshot orbs rimmed with sore, puffy flesh. Her cheeks were streaked with grime that had run under the onslaught of the tears, and her whole bearing was of one who had already accepted her fate…whatever that may be.

  The resignation and defeat of this woman she loathed made Ayesha even more determined to meet her side of the bargain with the Hellbenders—with Danny—or to be chilled in the attempt. Anything would be better than to end up like this pathetic specimen.

  Casting a swift yet penetrating survey over the rest of the women in the wag, she could see that the vast majority of them fell into the same category as Anita. There were only a couple of exceptions, one of them being a tall and lithe girl who was of mixed white and black parentage. She had a firm figure, lightly muscled and highly toned, with large brown eyes that met Ayesha’s with an unflinching gaze. As their eyes met, it was as though some kind of understanding was reached between them without the need for words. Both recognized the will to survive, and seemed to agree without even acknowledging it that they would back each other up if the need arose. The girl had long plaits that were tied back into a ponytail at the back of her head, accentuating her perfect cheekbones. She had a pride and hauteur in her bearing that told Ayesha that she wouldn’t be found wanting. The ponytail moved slightly behind the girl’s head as she nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Ayesha moved to the back of the wag and turned to face the sec man, who was watching her intently.

  “So what d’you think I’m going to do, try and overpower you with a jet of piss?” she said, sneering at him. “Or is that how you get your kicks? Watching young girls?”

  The sec man tightened in his seat, his body rigid with rage at her taunts. “You better watch your mouth, bitch,” he growled, “or I’ll forget who you are.”

  “And why you can’t touch me?” she finished.

  The sec man was about to say something when the sec riding shotgun turned and addressed him. “For fuck’s sake, let her do it in peace,” he said wearily. “Anything to stop that damn whining. She’ll get what she deserves soon enough.”

  “Mebbe you’re right. I’ll hold that thought for a while,” the sec man replied with a cold smile that spread humorlessly across his lips. “Why not? Let the bitch piss in peace.”

  With which he turned away, facing the front of the wag, although his grip tightened instinctively on the Uzi.

  Instinct—that would be her enemy. She had to hope that the sec man didn’t have an inkling of what she was about to do, or else the whole thing was blown before she had even begun.

  Ayesha unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall from her hips. She had forsworn underwear for ease at this moment, and thanked whatever had made her choose this as she reached into herself and fumbled for the end of the knife stock. Looking up desperately, she could see that some of the women were watching her with puzzlement, while others were still looking away and were downcast. The beautiful dark girl was looking directly at her, but as she was in the eyeline of the sec man, she kept her face stony so that he wouldn’t be alerted. Mostly, it seemed that the women, if they cared at all, were puzzled in a lackadaisical way as to why she seemed to be playing with herself rather than pissing. She was aware that the sec man would become suspicious if he didn’t hear her, so when she had extracted the knife she tried to force something out to sound in the bucket, but nothing other than a brief trickle could be forced from her unwilling bladder.

  The knife sat in her palm as she rapidly hitched up her jeans and secured them. She took two strides forward, palming the knife so that the blade shot out away from her body as she triggered the mechanism with a soft clicking sound.

  It was little, but enough to attract the attention of the sec man, who recognized the sound of old, and swung around in his seat to face her, bringing up the Uzi.

  Ayesha knew she would have to move fast, and ironically it was Anita’s stupidity that saved her.

  “Ayesha, what are you doing with that?” she asked in a voice that was pathetic and stupid, hiccuped still with her sobbing.

  The words were enough to distract the attention of the sec man—distract him enough for his head to turn toward the sound of Anita’s voice and give Ayesha the vital fraction of a second to slice across his exposed throat with the knife. Her arm was well muscled, and she put enough power and momentum behind the stroke to slice across the exposed flesh cleanly and deeply. His windpipe and carotid artery were opened, and the blood pumped from him in gouts as he opened his mouth to speak, only a choking husk emerging through the damaged flesh as the light faded in his eyes.

  The dark girl was swift, her reactions sure. As he choked, she shot out of her seat and grabbed the Uzi, wrestling it from his grasp and turning to cover the sec man riding shotgun, who had turned at the sound of activity in the rear of the wag. She clicked off the safety and held the blaster firmly and in a manner that suggested she knew exactly how to handle it.

  “Don’t even think about it unless you want to be spread over the windshield,” she said quietly but firmly, adding over her shoulder, “I think we’re in charge now—right, babe?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The journey was proving long and arduous. It was approaching the middle of the day, and the sun bore down on the Hellbenders’ convoy with a relentless force. Inside the wags, the heat built up to a humid, stifling pitch. For those who were using the old preDark military wags that had been left in the redoubt, it was slightly more bearable, the insulation inside the wags cutting down some of the heat that was stored in the metal. But although these wags also had air-conditioning, the drivers had been instructed by Correll not to use it, as it would eat up more fuel, and the gaunt man wanted to make sure they had enough to get them to the rendezvous point and also to carry out any maneuvers they may need to make without the wags running dry and spoiling the military action.

  But it wasn’t just the heat. The track they were taking was across desert terrain that had been muddied by the lashing chem rains and churned up into a quagmire. This was now drying, the ridges of wind-driven mud now becoming hard obstructions beneath the wheels of the wags, making steering hard and bumping the vehicles and their contents uncomfortably across the desert floor. They also had to keep an eye out for those patches that had turned into quicksand and were proving less willing to dry out. Spotting anything was hard, as the powdery soil was becoming dust, driven up in clouds from the hard ridges by the constant disturbance of the wag wheels, the resultant dust clouds making visibility poor at times.

  It was easiest for the front wag, piloted by Correll. For J.B., Lonnie and those wag drivers that followed them, things were proving to be at times disorienting.

  “If we all make it to the right place at the right time, and in one piece, that’ll be the biggest achievement of all,” Mildred commented sardonically as J.B. had to swerve hard to avoid a deep rut that came out of a dust cloud at the last moment.

  “That’s when the difficult bit starts,” Jenny countered, fixing Mildred with a piercing stare. “We have to be disciplined and motivated.”

  “Sweetie, you sound like a machine,” Mildred returned, a wry s
mile crossing her face. “You can be as disciplined and motivated as you like, but you need to get to the enemy first. And this is a real bastard.”

  “You’re not kidding, Millie,” J.B. muttered. “This is bad enough for me, but for those behind?” He let the question hang in the air.

  Jenny shifted in her seat and looked to the back of the wag. It was closed in, with no windows but a sec monitor that gave them a rear view via a camera in the frame of the vehicle. The monitors still worked, and one of Correll’s men watched it.

  “What’s happening back there?” the Native American asked.

  The Hellbender shrugged. “Fuck knows. He’s right, Jenny. There’s nothing but dust back there. I wouldn’t mind betting they can’t see a thing.”

  THE SENTIMENT WAS ECHOED by Lonnie, the driver of the next wag back, but with a little more exasperation.

  “Fuck it, why don’t they watch where they go?” he yelled—more to himself than anyone else—as he hit the wheel of the wag hard with the palm of his hand. “Shit, how are we supposed to know where we are when there’s nothing but dust all around?”

  “Just follow, for fuck’s sake,” Catherine said wearily, leaning against the side of the wag, then wincing as a jolt over a rut caused her to crack her head against the metal side.

  “How can I?” Lonnie snapped. “I can’t see what I’m supposed to be following.”

  Dean pondered for a few seconds, then leaned forward to Doc.

  “You wish a few moments of discursive diversion?” Doc asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I want to talk about something,” Dean replied.

  “Then pray tell me what it is.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Doc, and I’m wondering if I should mention this.”

  Doc beamed at the young Cawdor. “Certainly, I would be only too pleased to advise you—provided, of course, you tell me what it is that you wish advice upon.”

  “Yeah, funny, Doc, really funny. But it could be important.”

  Doc’s attitude changed, immediately becoming more serious. “Then go ahead, young Dean,” he said softly.

  “Well, if Lonnie’s having this trouble, and all the wags behind are getting it worse, then what’s it going to be like when we mount the ambush? There won’t just be our wags, there’ll be convoys from Summerfield and Charity, as well.”

  “That’s a lot of dust, and a lot of confusion,” Doc agreed.

  “Exactly.”

  “I think this needs mentioning,” Doc said gravely.

  “You hear that, Lonnie?” Catherine said. Although feigning disinterest, she had been listening in to their conversation.

  “Yeah, I caught the general idea,” Lonnie acknowledged between gritted teeth, steering wildly to try to negotiate a reasonably clear path along the track. “Think the two-ways will work yet?”

  “They may over a short distance,” Dean said, moving to the front of the wag. “I’ll keep it brief, ’cause you never know who may be listening.”

  “I don’t reckon that they’ve got radio equipment,” Lonnie answered.

  “Mebbe if find spy,” Jak chipped in. He had been apparently sleeping, but as was his way he had kept his senses alert and had awakened at the sound of Dean’s voice.

  Lonnie blew out his cheeks. “Fuck, I hope not.”

  Dean picked up the handset of the radio and put a call through to the leading wag, knowing that the exchange would be heard by all the wags, as Correll had made sure that they were all tuned to the same wavelength before leaving the redoubt. The use of old tech like this was rare, but Correll, with Danny’s help, had been able to make sense of what he had found at the old military installation, and right now, Dean was glad of this.

  When Correll responded angrily, asking why the hell Dean was using the radio, which was only for emergency use, Dean quickly explained his concern. There was a pause before Correll answered.

  “If we stick to the basic plan, then we’ll be in close enough to see what’s going on in the clouds. If we move swiftly, then we’ll pin them down in such a way that they won’t be able to move out of formation without running straight into us…in which case we just blast the fuckers anyway. Besides, the rendezvous point is hemmed in on all sides by outcrops. The chem storm won’t have been able to blow up so hard in there, so the ground shouldn’t be so churned up.”

  With which finality, Correll put down the handset and returned his attention fully to the vast expanse of desert that lay ahead. In the far distance, almost over the horizon and approximately another half hour’s drive away, Ryan and Krysty could see a small cluster of rocks.

  “That’s it,” Correll said so softly that it could almost have been to himself. He kept one hand on the wheel of the wag while, with the other, he cradled the box on his lap. “Soon,” he added in a gentle tone.

  Ryan wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though Correll was addressing the box.

  ELIAS TULK HAD DRIVEN in silence across the plains, avoiding the ruts wherever possible and skirting the patches of quicksand. Baron Tad Hutter sat next to him in silence. Tulk was setting a fast pace as the leading driver, and the sec men who sat in the rear of the leading wag were keeping a close watch on the wags that followed.

  “Shit, man, slow down,” once of them implored. “Those dudes back there are really having problems keeping the pace up.”

  “Not my problem,” Tulk said shortly. “Not my fault if the bastards can’t drive.”

  “But Baron,” the other sec man added, addressing the silent Hutter, “we don’t want to lose them.”

  Hutter was silent for a moment, then said, “If they can’t keep up, then they’ve got no place on my sec.”

  The two sec men in the rear of the wag exchanged puzzled glances. It didn’t make sense. If they lost the rest of the party, it would put the baron at risk if they arrived at the rendezvous point alone and found the opposing force there in full.

  Neither, however, felt brave enough to question Hutter on this. Instead, they lapsed into an uneasy and uncomfortable silence.

  Hutter, however, was much keener to talk now that his long silence had been broken. He spoke in a low undertone that could be heard over the sound of the wag engine by Tulk, but not by the sec men at the rear of the vehicle.

  “So what d’you think you can prove, boy?”

  “Who says I want to prove anything?” Tulk replied, keeping his eyes on the road and not pausing to glance at the baron.

  “I’d say you want to prove something pretty badly,” Hutter mused. “You’ve never spoke to me like this before—no fucker with any sense has,” he added.

  “Mebbe I’ve lost any sense I ever had,” Tulk replied. “Mebbe I’ve got some for the first time. And mebbe you should make your mind up about that, eh?” he added.

  Hutter narrowed his eyes and didn’t speak for a time. He studied the whip-thin sec man beside him, his eyes concentrating on the road ahead with an intensity that was out of place.

  “Can’t think of anything to say now?” Tulk added after a while, without looking around.

  “No,” Hutter replied truthfully. “If I thought it was possible, I’d say you had some plan to get rid of me, but I can’t work out how the fuck you’d manage that on your own. And you sure as shit wouldn’t get any of the others to join you. I’ve made sure of that, making them all shit scared of each other more than me.”

  There was a note of puzzlement in the baron’s voice that made Tulk want to smile. However, he managed to keep any sign of his inward amusement from showing on his face.

  As he drove, Tulk’s mind wound back to the moment when the recce party had taken him back to the redoubt. It had been some months after he had begun spying, and it had taken until this point before he had been truly accepted, and any suspicions that the Hellbenders still held had been allayed. By night he had left the ville, and had met with the recce party at a point several miles from the edge of the ville. His cover story to explain his absence was that he had been conducting a survey of the
outlying areas to plot any points from where the ville could be attacked. To this end, the recce party, which already knew the area, gave him a detailed map of the area surrounding the ville that would only omit their own personal camping spots when on recce. Armed with this, and the wag he had used to leave the ville, Tulk was able to cover his own back and make the time to follow them on the day-long journey to the redoubt, where he had first met Correll.

  The memory of the gaunt man’s unsmiling visage as he explained his personal—and therefore group—mission still haunted Tulk. He had no doubt that Correll was insane, and yet he could understand that. He had no idea of Correll’s own personal history, but he knew from his own experience that to have to internalize the intense emotions that a baron abusing privilege could bring was to skirt close to insanity. Some stayed the right line—as he believed he had—because they had to keep living with the enemy. Others, like Correll, didn’t, and so were allowed free reign to their feelings, and perhaps the descent into madness.

  After a briefing, Tulk had returned with the personal knowledge that Correll was as insane as Hutter, just in a different way. But this was, in a sense, irrelevant. Correll’s madness allowed Tulk to unleash his own, and gain his revenge.

  And that was priceless.

  The knowledge that it was nearly time filled him to bursting, but—mindful of the still puzzled baron beside him—he allowed himself only the expression of putting his foot down on the gas, and coaxing more speed from the wag’s protesting engine.

  “AYESHA, THIS ISN’T going to make things any better for us. We’ll just get beaten before they screw us, and it’ll hurt,” whined the big blonde from her seat in the back of the wag.