Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Words crept into the stillness, half whispered from beyond a mesh wall to her left.

  “Is that the Prophet?”

  Althea looked in the direction of a female voice, at four women in the other security pen. A tall, athletic redhead with blue eyes had come right up to the partition between rooms, gazing down at her with an air of superiority. She was older, perhaps in her mid-twenties, and had numerous small scars on her arms and body. Her only clothing was a bit of metal held around her neck by a dangling lock. The people from Den’s village had thought Althea pale, but next to this woman, she felt almost dark-skinned.

  “Hunter?” Althea whispered.

  “I was.” The woman scowled, picking at the collar. “I don’t plan on being here too long.”

  An Asian a little younger than the first woman reclined in the bedding at the center of the other room, stretching before her semiconscious stare noticed the new arrival. Like the redhead, she wore only a collar. The soft lines of a pampered life curved around her slender body, and her calm emotional state made Althea think she had been a prized concubine for a long time.

  The other two sat as far back as possible, against the corner made of cinderblock walls. Frail and bony, one hid behind a thick mass of silky black hair down to her thighs. She had a perpetual shiver like a tiny dog afraid of its own shadow. Her skin was dark, her features delicate, and her attention absorbed by her task―feeding the fourth captive.

  Anger was the predominant emotion coming from the last one. Not fear like the thin woman drowned in, or contentment like the Asian basked in―not even the arrogant confidence exuding from the redhead. The fourth lacked a collar, though her hands were chained together behind her back. Her deep chestnut brown skin was not quite as dark as the woman feeding her. Short black hair clung to her head in a pixie cut that went light tan at the tips. Large brown eyes that would have been beautiful in another place glared out from above a cute blunt nose at the moving shadows of raiders; this woman wanted to kill someone.

  Althea couldn’t guess her age beyond that she was an adult; her toned body seemed like that of a hunter, but she lacked the telltale scars of repeated healed wounds, only some fresh bruises. She might be old enough to have been Althea’s mother, or maybe only twentyish. Althea decided the fourth woman was younger than thirty, but carried herself with the poise of someone older. There was something quite strange about her mood, unlike anything Althea had ever sensed before from a captive. No sooner did the last woman notice Althea looking at her than the anger vanished into a spiral of embarrassment.

  “Oh Christ, is that a goddamn kid?” The restrained woman shifted in an attempt to hide her nakedness. “What kind of fucking animals are these people?”

  The sight of her intrigued Althea; she had never before seen someone with hair that was not long and wild or shaved gone. She could not help but gawk at a person who would waste the great amount of time it must have taken to do such a thing.

  “Look at her eyes,” the warrior woman blurted. “I did not know the Prophet was just a child.”

  “I’m twelve… I think.” She folded her arms and furrowed her brow. “I’m not a little kid, and my name is Althea.”

  “I am called Zhar.” The tall woman patted herself on the chest before gesturing at the comfortable one. “That is Aya.” She waved at the two behind her. “Ramani, and the chipper one is Rachel.”

  The cuffed woman made a strange gesture with one finger.

  Althea felt sad for her. “Why is she tied?”

  Zhar grinned. “She killed one of these shitheads when they caught her last week, and she got a piece of Vakkar when he came for her. Pissed him off good; he’s gonna leave her like that till she begs for it.”

  “Begs for what?” asked Althea.

  All four women found something other than Althea to look at.

  Rachel glanced away, unable to lift her sad stare off the floor. “Yeah… Only got one, there were too many. So groggy when I woke up I couldn’t fight.” She pulled against the handcuffs. “I don’t care what he does, he’s gonna be waiting a long damn time.”

  Althea laced her fingers through the mesh, staring at Rachel, studying the radiance of confusion, anger, and shame. The feel of it told her this woman had not yet been wifed, but was terrified of its imminence, and masking her fear with rage. Her thoughts looked strange; she had memories of the before-time: many people in strange camo-green uniforms, a bed with glass over it, a white room, and a swarm of raiders tearing her clothes away. A knife flashed, and pain and unconsciousness followed the sight of blood. The woman desperately wanted someone named Police to find her.

  “It ain’t right.” Rachel curled against the wall. “She’s too little.”

  Ramani forced a smile. “At least they let her keep clothing.”

  Jealousy.

  “They don’t want her for that.” Zhar laughed. “She not harem. She’s the Prophet.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Prophet?” Rachel made eye contact at last.

  Althea sank to the floor, sitting with her legs off to the side. “I make hurts and sicks go away.”

  “I saw her once.” Ramani spoke, not looking up. “Before I was taken, years ago… a man had her in a cart and would charge trades or coins to let her touch you.”

  Unable to contain it, Althea cried.

  “What’s wrong?” Zhar sank to her knees, at eye level with her.

  “He was a bad man.” Althea sniffled, regained her composure, and wiped her face. “When people did not pay, he let them die. I couldn’t reach them to help.”

  Rachel seemed less concerned with her own predicament. “Help people? Wait, cage? Who puts a little girl in a cage?” She writhed, trying to pull her hands loose. “This shit don’t fly. I gotta get the fuck out of here.”

  “Come.” Althea leaned up on her knees, sliding her fingers through the grating.

  Zhar touched her just to do it, enamored with meeting the Prophet in person. Althea tensed at the presence of a sick tainting the woman’s aura and gripped her fingers.

  Althea shut her eyes. “Hold still.”

  Wispy darkness swam through the form of Zhar’s life energy.

  “After a moment of concentration, Althea looked up.

  Zhar swayed on her feet and put a hand to her face. “Everything’s spinning. What did you do to me?”

  “You had a sick,” said Althea. “It’s gonna come out now.”

  Rachel blushed and looked away as Zhar scrambled over to their bucket.

  Althea tilted her head at Rachel. “Why shame?”

  “Where I come from you don’t piss with people watching.”

  Ramani whispered something in Rachel’s ear while motioning toward Althea.

  Rachel blurted. “What the hell is a Scrag?”

  Zhar and Aya exchanged a glance, knowing full well what awaited the newest addition to the harem. Aya rolled onto her back, reclining as if in a palace. Althea sensed she did it on purpose to make Rachel feel more embarrassed. The look of amusement on Zhar’s face displaced a pained grimace as she moved away from the bucket and eased herself with great care into a seated position.

  “Scrags live in little camps here and there. Most of ‘em this far south don’t wear too much.” Zhar curled up on the bedding.

  “Aren’t you a Scrag, too?” Rachel continued trying to get her hands free.

  Zhar shook her head. “No. My home is a few days north in the mountains. We don’t have to scavenge for clothing, we have tools, and we know what guns are.” Zhar scowled at the bucket. “We even have toilets. Scrags are the primitives out in the dust that use license plates for loincloths and worship things like flashlights, thinking they are magic.”

  “And pry bars…” Althea giggled.

  Zhar grumbled. “These raider bastards picked me clean when they ambushed me.”

  Aya smiled, draping herself over Zhar’s back and stroking her hair. “You should feel lucky. You have beautiful red hair and skin like the cl
ouds; Vakkar chose you for himself. You’re not baking out there in the kennel.”

  Zhar shied away. The proudest of the lot gripped by shame she did not want the others to see. Althea looked down, understanding why.

  “They took mine, too.” Ramani blushed at the floor, trying to cover herself with her hands.

  Zhar glanced back with a half-smile. “I’ve seen him… big guy in a brown dress with face-hair down to his balls.”

  “Guess they don’t know it’s girly…” Rachel gave up her struggle with a hiss.

  “What’s girly?” Althea blinked.

  Rachel grumbled. “Means only girls are supposed to wear dresses.”

  “That’s silly. Clothes are clothes.” She leaned forward. “Please, come. You are hurt. I must touch you.” Althea forced her fingers through the grate as far as they would fit.

  Rachel fired a shamed glance at the floor for a few minutes before she found the courage to slide up to the mesh. As soon as her fingertips made contact, Althea closed her eyes and forced the forms to change. The bruises, as well as the cuts and chafing from the handcuffs, faded. Rachel gawked, stunned by the sudden cessation of pain.

  “What the heck are you?” Rachel shivered, as if noticing the bright blue glow for the first time.

  “I’m Althea,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Why are you clean?”

  Rachel curled, doing what she could to find modesty. “I was in a stasis pod.”

  “The bed with glass over it?” Althea sat back on her heels, letting her arms fall to her lap.

  “Yeah. How the hell did…” Rachel shook her head. “I was stationed at White Sands. The corporation war just went into high gear when we took a hit from some kind of bio weapon. Some of us wound up trapped inside building six. We hopped into the pods to get away from the virus. The damn thing wasn’t supposed to keep me asleep for long.”

  Althea blinked. “Like a bed?”

  “Yeah. Like a bed, but it kept me alive, just frozen. Hey, if you’re some kinda Prophet thing, can you magic these cuffs off me?”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Zhar glanced over. “Vakkar said he’d put them on all of us if she got loose.”

  Aya smiled, a wave of terror gripped Ramani.

  “You can get out as soon as you let Vakkar take you,” Aya cooed. “Obey, and the chief is good to you.”

  “That might work for you, hon, but I ain’t gonna be nobody’s fucking pet.” She strained against the unforgiving metal, collapsing against the wall out of breath and sweaty a minute later.

  Zhar laughed. “He’s waited a week for you to break; I give him one more before he just takes what he wants. It’s not like you have a say in it.”

  Rachel glared. “Fuck that. I’ll die first.”

  “The more you fight him the more―”

  “Stop!” Althea cut Zhar off, feeling what the thought of being unable to resist getting wifed did to Rachel. “Leave her alone.”

  Althea crawled away from the awkward silence in the other cell. This was not the first harem she had seen. She had witnessed it before, even healed them when things got out of hand. The thought that a few years from now, men would look at her in that way scared her. Some hope came in the truth not all women suffered that fate. Some, like Zhar, were strong enough to be hunters, and sometimes even raiders. Those lucky enough to be among tribes like Den’s were protected as daughters, sisters, and mates. She dreaded the thought of where she would be when she came of age, but at least she had her magic.

  Some minutes later, the grimace of burning pain left Zhar, and she paced the other cage like a trapped lioness. It confused Althea how she had wound up in the harem. The Badlands were not kind to the weak of body or mind, and Zhar appeared to be neither. Rachel seemed not to be of this world, an oddity which made what awaited her all the more jarring. Being captured and wifed was bad enough, but her entire world had vanished as well.

  Sensing Rachel’s spiraling mood, Althea blurted. “Someone always comes for me.”

  The women looked at her.

  “The man with the wagon died when raiders with guns did not want to pay. They took me to their town.”

  “Did they let you out of the cage?” Rachel glanced up.

  “No.” Althea shook her head. “The ones after that did, but they put a chain on my leg.” Althea tapped her right ankle. “It was nicer than the cage; at least I could move around the tree.”

  “That’s horrible!” Rachel gasped. “What kind of fucked-up world did I wake up in?”

  Althea shrugged. “It’s okay. Sometimes I get helped by nice people, but I always get taken again by bad ones. The nice ones are never strong enough to fight.”

  She buried her face in her knees. The agate pendant brushed her legs as it swung forward, bringing with it a fleeting glimpse of Den’s smile, and the memory of how she felt while she was with him. Althea pictured his face. As she did so, a strange realization came over her.

  The endless cycle of abduction had finally started to bother her.

  er face against her legs, Althea wrapped her arms around so no one could see her crying. She had lost track of how many times people captured her as a prize. The wall of indifference she built up to it had a Den-shaped crack. This time, being taken hurt. She did not understand why Den had pressed his lips against hers, but all she wanted now was for him to do it again.

  Rachel’s voice, muffled by her buried-face pose, muttered in protest about something. Sniffling, she lifted her head and looked over at them. A spike of anger came from Rachel at the sight of clean smears down Althea’s cheeks. It had been so long since someone reacted to her crying with something other than amusement or indifference, Althea had no idea how to feel.

  “She will not be hurt.” Zhar shook her head. “All want the Prophet… she’s no good dead.” She spotted Althea watching, and crawled to the mesh, leaning her face up to the grating to whisper. “When we escape, I will bring you to my home. It has mountain walls. You would be safe there… no one can ever take you again.”

  Althea furrowed her brow. “If it is so safe, why are you captured?”

  Zhar growled. “Stupid gamble. I made a bet I could go hunting alone and take a bigger kill than Finlay. They got me outside the town. Inside my home, no raiders can ever steal you.”

  “If I had a home like that, I would stay in it,” said Ramani, barely above a whisper.

  “You are a mouse, which is why you are in this cage.” Zhar rolled her eyes.

  Aya perked up. “You are in the cage too, lioness.”

  Zhar drew a breath to yell something, but the sound of an approaching raider startled her away from the partition. A large metal bowl of beige slop slid into the harem cell, and a man offered two skewers of charred meat to Althea. Famished from healing, she dove on the food and savaged the first chunk before hesitating. Chewing, she glanced to her side at the other women fighting to choke down the beige goo. Zhar glared at her, jealousy wafted around her like perfume.

  Althea crept to the partition and knelt. “We can trade if you want. You look starving.”

  As soon as she swallowed the food Ramani’s hand had put in her mouth, Rachel blurted. “You’re not going to take real food away from a little kid?”

  “If she’s gonna offer it, I’m gonna eat it.” Zhar watched Althea eagerly as she nibbled bits of meat off the hunk small enough to fit through the gaps in the lattice.

  She passed them through and the older woman devoured them.

  “Share,” Althea said in a demanding tone, talking at the women as if she was their mother.

  Showing no signs of anything but greed, Zhar continued gobbling them up. Althea narrowed her eyes, the radiant blue glow flared. Tousled blonde hair stirred in a breeze that did not exist as she projected fear. The four women stared with trepidation, like mice in the path of a diving eagle. Zhar’s mouth hung agape, Aya ran to the corner shivering, and Ramani hid behind Rachel, whose only noticeable reaction was the handcuffs clicking apart.


  “I said share.” Althea fixed Zhar with a dire glance, relaxing the radiant fear after a small spike.

  The women divided one skewer while Althea ate the other. The way the harem attacked it made her think solid food had been a long distant memory for them.

  With the meal gone, Althea settled into the tattered scraps of old sleeping bags. They lay in silence as the last vestiges of daylight faded from the broken windows, mourned by a cool breeze that circled the room. The women huddled together at the center of their bedding as the moon drew great shadows across the floor in the distorted shapes of the old machinery. Althea rolled onto her side, staring at the keyhole in the door of her cage. Behind her, the soft clinks and rattles of Rachel’s endless search for a comfortable position mixed Zhar’s chiding whispers asking her to settle down and sleep. Ramani whispered a repetitive phrase in a strange language, while Aya passed out in less than a minute.

  The rattle of steel followed by Rachel’s screams shook Althea from her approaching sleep.

  “No! Get the fuck off me!”

  Althea shot upright; the sight of Vakkar dragging the woman by one ankle through the door as she kicked at him blurred through her semiconscious brain. Trying to contain and move her at the same time, he failed to do well at either. Rachel thrashed while the other three watched. Ramani shook in the corner, a guilty stare at the floor, glad it was not her turn. Aya had little reaction aside from an annoyed moan at the noise. Zhar seemed unconcerned with Rachel’s situation; her stare jumped between the open door and Vakkar’s weapons as if weighing her odds.

  Althea did not need her abilities to know what thoughts dwelled within the raider captain’s mind, though the emotional energy cascading off him confirmed it. She sprang to her feet and ran to the wall of her cell, slapping at the grating.

  “Stop! Wait.” She cried out in a desperate wail. “You do not want to do that.”

  His grin said he very much did. Althea summoned up a surge of mental energy, seizing on the lust in his mind and forcing it to morph into worry. The enthusiasm with which he dragged the struggling woman waned, and he blinked at Althea.