Zhar grinned and offered one to Rachel.
Rachel did not fight the cuffs, only stared. “Funny. You’re a fuckin’ laugh riot.”
Althea smiled. “We have spears now. You can spare one bullet.”
Zhar frowned at Aya. “Well, you’re a useless pet… Here.” She handed the other spear to Ramani.
“Why are you so mean?” Althea made a face at Zhar.
Zhar fashioned a belt out of bloody rope from the skeleton’s ankles and hung the pistol from it. “I’m not mean. I’m practical.”
“A practical person wouldn’t leave the one individual in this group with combat training in handcuffs.” Rachel scowled.
“I’ve been shooting guns since before I could walk. I’d rather have a bullet for something that wants to eat us.” Zhar hefted the spear. “Come on, we’re still three days out.”
Rachel fell to her knees, pulling at the damnable things and growling through clenched teeth. Althea stooped over her, rubbing her shoulder and trying to calm her down. Rachel’s voice screamed inside her head, trying not to be angry at Althea for not commanding Zhar to free her.
If I did that, she’d hurt both of us when it wore off. Althea sent her thoughts into Rachel’s mind.
“What the…” Rachel jumped.
I’m the Prophet, said Althea telepathically, sounding far less than enthused about the fact. I can mind-talk.
She looked at the warrior woman, wondering if perhaps a child’s pleading eyes could work just as well as magic. “Please, Zhar… Rachel is so sad and scared like this. It’s not right to leave someone tied in the Badlands, anything could hap―”
“Hey!” Ramani called out. “Look.”
Everyone glanced where she pointed. A bleached skeleton lay half buried in the sand, surrounded by fluttering tatters of cloth dancing in the breeze. A glint in the dirt hinted at a blade beneath the bones of the right hand. The group went over; Zhar crouched to examine the find. There was almost nothing left of anything flesh, leather, or cloth.
“Something ate him, ate the leather too.” Zhar ran her fingers over the rib bones. “Never saw bones this clean.”
“Uhh. I think I know what it was.” Rachel’s voice, eerily quiet, quivered in the air.
A dry hiss stole Zhar’s sarcastic remark. A trio of millipedes, bodies as thick as a man’s thigh, rose out of the loose dirt. The one nearest Rachel hovered at eye level. Bright red antennae quivered.
“Careful, they spit,” Althea yelled.
One eyed Ramani, one went for Zhar, and the last continued its staring contest with Rachel. The handcuffs rattled. Unimpressed by the creature, Zhar lunged at the one by her, lancing at it with the spear. It coiled and hissed, evading her attack as it poured itself backwards over the sand.
Ramani screamed and threw her spear in an arc so feeble it clattered sideways to the ground not even halfway to the beast. Aya tackled the thin woman away from its bite, and the two rolled to the side in a cloud of dust. Rachel leapt away from a stream of caustic saliva, somehow managing to stay on her feet as a torrent of millipede flowed around her. The brush of a dozen legs made her scream; a fourteen-foot long insect touching her destroyed any sense of soldier.
Althea ran for the discarded spear, stepping twice on the back of the millipede chasing Ramani and landing astride the weapon. Rachel ducked around the buggy and went for the boulder, hoping to use it as a delay, but the multi-legged horror just swam over the rock. Shrieking, she barked a series of obscenities and sprinted in a circle.
The other millipede rose into the air, poised to leap at Aya and Ramani as they tried to stand while clinging to each other. Althea loosed a mousy war cry and leapt into the air, driving the spear into its back with all her weight. The strike pinned it to the dirt, cutting its leap short. Mandibles snapped inches from Aya’s face and the front end of the creature flopped down and thrashed from side to side. Althea rocked the spear in the wound, twisting it until yellow goop erupted out of it. A spray of caustic droplets spattered the women’s legs before the monster went still, making them scream.
Althea glanced over her shoulder at Zhar whipping the spear about like a toy. Her millipede’s head darted in and out, evading the flashing edge keeping it away. Having no doubt the woman could protect herself, she hurried to get between the other one and Rachel.
Holding the spear up, she yelled, “Rachel!”
Rachel saw her coming and changed course. As their paths converged, Althea intercepted the insect at the same instant the woman pressed her back against the hot metal buggy. Locking eyes with the enormous bug, Althea flexed her grip on her spear and waited for the strike. Its gleaming onyx eyes showed no sense of emotion; no hatred, no anger, no joy―merely an impassive insect looking for food.
“I thought they said you don’t kill.” Rachel’s voice drifted somewhere between despondence and euphoria.
“Bugs are bugs.” Althea glared at it. “Leave her alone.”
Cringing as its head snapped in, she barely managed to get the spear in the way. The mandibles deflected into the side of the vehicle with a dull metallic thud, inches from Rachel’s hip.
“Oh my God!” Rachel trembled at the sight of mandibles puncturing sheet metal.
Althea shoved at the creature, then pulled the spear back and stabbed. Without her falling weight behind it, the point glanced off the carapace. She used most of her strength lifting the all-metal spear, and had little left to swing it. Althea knew the odds of her hurting this thing were slim, but she was not going to let it kill her friend.
Rachel scooted away. “Not gonna pat this one on the head and send it on its way?”
“I can’t. It’s too stupid and mean.”
The millipede’s head rose into the air, towering over the little girl. A tendril of lime-green drool fell from its mouth as it hissed, mandibles wide. Althea watched its mouth, ready to dive out of the way of acidic venom.
“You’re saying that damn scorpion was smart?” Rachel blinked.
“Smarter than this thing.” Althea stabbed at its face, leaving a small crack in the shell.
It leaned its head to the right, coiling for another bite. Her stare followed it; she did not notice the tail end come about and strike at her leg. She yelped as its tail pincer snapped around her right ankle and whipped back, dragging her off her feet and out of the way as its head shot over her, lunging for Rachel’s defenseless neck.
Boom.
Whump.
Air rushed from Althea’s lungs as she slammed flat into the dirt and the spear fell across her ribs, followed by a rain of gunk.
The gunshot detonated the first two feet of the creature, spattering Rachel with viscous yellow slime traced with strands of clear. Squiggles of dark green slid down her chest as a headless tube of flailing legs wavered in midair and hit the ground with a splat, gushing.
Rachel wished she had not been screaming.
Althea, not bothering to sit up, glanced at Zhar. The redhead had the pistol leveled off, a wisp of smoke leaked from the barrel. A dead millipede coiled around her legs and a trail of blood ran down her chest from a small wound to the shoulder.
“That is why I’m saving bullets.”
Rachel slid along the hot surface of the crashed buggy until her ass hit the ground. Humiliation and terror overwhelmed her and she sobbed, past the point of coping with what was happening. Althea pushed the spear off her chest and sat up, grabbing a dagger-sized, shiny red pincer in each hand. With a pained whimper, she pulled them apart and out of her ankle before dragging herself to Rachel’s side. Already, the cold numbness of venom crept up her leg. She wiped the slime from the woman’s face and stroked her hair, whispering reassurances everything was going to be okay.
She had never before felt someone wanting to die.
“Hey!” Althea grabbed Rachel by the cheeks, brushing tears aside with her thumbs. “Stop that. Don’t think bad! You’re going to be fine. I promise I will help you get out of those things.”
&n
bsp; Rachel sniffled and found a chuckle hiding somewhere inside. “This is backwards. You’re the kid; I should be saying that to you.”
“They’re just bugs.” Althea went to stand up and fell over, her right leg as dead as wood.
With an exasperated sigh, she forced the venom out of the wound before mending her leg. After wiggling her toes to make sure everything was in order, she tended to Aya and Ramani’s acid burns. Finally approaching Zhar, she weathered a disdainful smirk.
Althea put a hand on the bite mark. “You’re last ‘cause the hurts don’t make you cry like the others.”
Every time Rachel looked at the bug guts all over her, she dry heaved and gurgled, somehow managing to hold in the vomit that wanted out. After her wounds closed, Zhar walked over and pulled Rachel to her feet. For a moment, she seemed to consider wasting a bullet on the cuffs. She wiped as much of the goo off Rachel’s chest as she could, tossing it to the ground handful by handful.
“There’s a small creek about an hour north. You can clean up there.” Zhar went to walk away, but hesitated. “One more day? In a day, I will feel closer to home and I’ll shoot the chain out, ‘kay? Only got four bullets left.”
“You only had to shoot it because Rachel was tied,” whispered Althea.
Rachel took a deep breath and tried to cling to her last scraps of dignity, but she could not stop shaking. “Fine. Great call giving Rama the spear. That worked out well.”
Ramani looked down. “I’m a farmer.”
Zhar handed the second spear to Althea. “This kid is ten, and she at least tried.”
“Twelve,” Althea whispered, barely audible.
“Eleven if you’re anything,” muttered Zhar.
Ramani whined. “I’m not the Prophet.”
With a growl of contempt, Zhar shook her head and trudged off. The women fell in line behind her, marching through the sand. Althea debated commanding Zhar to release Rachel, feeling sick to her stomach at the battle of guilt and fear. She looked to the clouds, wondering if this “God” person Rachel kept talking to would show up to take the cuffs off.
Caressed by the hot breeze and the bits of sand it carried, they made their way north for some hours, stopping occasionally when Aya’s complaints of fatigue grew too loud. Zhar led them to a creek that ran through the ancient scar of a once-mighty river. There, they bathed, drank, and recovered from the sun. This water was cold and moving, and did not carry the taste of dirt.
Forgetting herself as they sat neck-deep in the water, Althea splashed Rachel, trying to play. Her smile faded in seconds, killed by guilt for reminding the woman about her bound hands. She offered an apologetic smirk, not noticing Rachel’s foot until it kicked water on her. They laughed and splashed until they were too tired to do anything but sit there enjoying the cold.
After an hour or so, Zhar waved her spear around to get their attention. “We must go on.”
She led them, following the water north until it trickled off to something the width of an arm and vanished into the dirt. The scene of the creek’s demise lay at the center of several huge rocks worn in graceful sloping curves toward where once a full river had been.
Althea sat upon one such rock, dry and hot against her skin. After so much time in the water, the heat was soothing. The breeze tossing her hair around was a great improvement over the stagnancy of the factory she called home for the past few weeks. As her segments of captivity went, the last had been quite brief. She braced her right leg to her chest, planting her foot upon the slope and squinted into the wind at the fading sun. She did not want to get her hopes too full; one fighter could not keep two women, a girl, and a helpless soldier free for long.
Rachel looked exhausted and had struggled with her archenemy to the point of bleeding again. Zhar paced about as if lost in thought. The dangling lock on the collar clacked as she moved.
“We need to find clothes, weapons, and get rid of these.” Zhar tapped the metal band.
“No shit.” Rachel sighed. “Did you just figure that out?”
“There’s an old town that way.” Zhar pointed. “Might be some stuff there we can scavenge. I didn’t want to go there at first in case a bandits… and it’s off course.”
“How far is it, and do they have bolt cutters or a hacksaw?” Rachel shifted, looking for a more comfortable seat.
“The hell is a hacksaw?” Zhar glanced at her. “Maybe two days… One if Aya wasn’t so lazy.”
“I’m not lazy,” the curvy woman mewled. “I’m just not used to walking.”
“She has been kept since she was small.” Althea spoke in an ephemeral tone, like a detached observer. “She does not know how to fend for herself. She has always been owned.”
“Like you?” Zhar quipped.
“No.” Althea fiddled with the agate arrowhead. “I am stolen a lot, but I am not owned.”
Zhar smiled at the spark of willfulness in the girl. “Good. Stay here, I will hunt.”
“There.” Althea pointed. “Bread root grows.”
Zhar squinted in the direction she indicated. “What?”
With a sigh, Althea let her foot slip forward and stood. “I can see in the dark. I will find food-plant. No bang.”
Althea clambered up the rock face on all fours to what had once been riverbank some dozen feet above the mucky bed. She ventured into the flat open ground towards an uneven section covered in scattered growth. Remembering months of memorization, she smiled fondly at thoughts of the closest thing she had ever known to a father. Reed’s voice whispered the names of herbs in her memory’s ear as she knelt and scratched at the ground.
When she returned with an armload of breadroot tubers, she found Ramani failing to weave a skirt out of too-short grass, and Rachel seething as she repeatedly bashed her wrists into a rock trying to break her restraints. Althea slid down the gentle curve of the stone into the space around the pitiful stream, and distributed her findings before taking a seat by Rachel and holding one out to feed her.
Rachel stared at the plant in front of her lips, trembling with a curious mixture of anger, finality, and humiliation. Althea titled her head, feeling several emotions cycle through Rachel’s energy as well as on her face. The woman finally narrowed her eyes, overtaken by a transcendent calm. Being “fed” like a pet had tweaked the last nerve.
Her voice was a shuddery near-whisper. “Kid, I’ve had enough of these fucking things. I am not walking another god damned hour like this. I’m not sleeping another god damned night like this.”
Zhar threw a dubious stare at Althea. “Don’t you dare magic me.”
The shaking woman leaned, touching foreheads with Althea. “At the arena, you fixed that man’s arm when the bones were cut clean through. I need you to do the same for me.”
Althea trembled. “But, you are not hurt.”
“You want someone to cut your hand off?” Zhar glanced at the spear, blinking in disbelief.
“No!” Althea begged. “Please, Zhar, Please shoot the chain. Don’t make me force―”
Everyone jumped at a sudden loud crack. Rachel’s soft, brown face reddened as she screamed through clenched teeth. Shuddering, her mouth fell open in a silent cry of agony as she writhed. When her hands came free in front of her, it was evident she had broken her thumb. A grin of endorphin elation alighted upon her face as she held her disfigured limb up and laughed at the dangling cuffs.
“Why didn’t you do that yesterday?” Zhar muttered over a mouthful of root mash.
Althea shot a somber stare at Zhar. “Even you would cry at this hurt.”
She set her hand on Rachel’s, numbing the pain as soon as she could focus. Once she was sure Rachel could feel nothing, Althea yanked the thumb into place, making a faint crunch. Aya and Ramani cringed away. A moment of focusing on the broken bones brought a muted crunch, and an intact hand. With her arms now free, Rachel squeezed Althea in a desperate embrace that tried to make up for weeks of wanting to hug the one person who kept her sane through the nig
htmare in which she woke up. Rachel cried first, but after a minute, it was unclear who consoled who. Loving contact was not something Althea encountered often.
“Lock the loose end on the same wrist so you don’t get caught on something.” Zhar muttered over a mouthful of tuber.
Rachel grabbed her other thumb and shuddered as tears ran down her cheeks.
She drew in a breath. “Screw that… I want this fucker gone.”
Althea grabbed her hand. “Let me stop pain first!”
The snap of the break was startling, despite everyone expecting it. This time Rachel’s face did not distort and she stared at her twisted appendage with curiosity as she wriggled the metal horror over her hand and threw it as hard as she could off into the sands.
Once Althea mended her hand, Rachel’s ration of tubers died a fast death. She reveled in the ability to feed herself after weeks of total dependence on others. The amount of relief and confidence Althea felt from her was a stark change from how she had been, as though she had turned into a different person inside. Rachel took the second spear as they huddled close for warmth again through the night.
Althea was happy to have someone who would protect her.
har nudged everyone awake a few minutes before the sun slid over the eastern horizon. Getting started before light afforded a little bit of protection in case any surviving raiders continued to look for them. Althea was quick to point out Vakkar’s men were not the only threats out here. One by one, they got up, shivering, and prepared to set out into the frigid morning.
Rachel shook her head at the sight. “Four women traipsing around bare-assed with a kid… Wouldn’t we get a bit of sympathy if we find some survivors?”
Zhar laughed. “You don’t know this place. Don’t even matter we’re women. Anyone out here roaming around is gonna try to take anyone weak looking captive. The safe spots are inside towns like mine.”
“If we don’t fight, we will be okay.” Aya smiled with unconvincing hope.
“Hey, you might feel cute with that metal thing around your neck, but no one, and I mean fucking no one, is gonna put a collar on me.” Rachel’s voice dripped with venom.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 10