Ramani looked down, ashamed. Aya picked at her collar with a helpless look, having known no other life. Jealousy radiated from Zhar; Rachel had no unwanted metal locked anywhere on her body. She looked the least like a slave. Even if they failed to hinder them physically, the collars were a mark of station.
Althea put a hand on Rachel’s arm. “People will see the slave-metal on their neck and treat them like runaways. All towns are not nice.”
Zhar nodded, sounding humble for once and radiating the shame she had been hiding so long. “Yeah. A girl walks naked into most places the people feel bad for you… give you some clothes and a hot meal. If you got one of these on, you might get sympathy, but you’ll probably get put in a cage. This tells people you’re weak.”
Rachel took a step and grasped Aya’s collar, examining it. “This is just a cheap padlock. Fuck’s sake, gimme the gun. Spear’s heavier, but too unwieldy.” She held a hand to Zhar, who took a step back.
“I ain’t gonna waste bullets, bitch.” Rachel made a “give it here” gesture with her fingers.
“Trust her,” Althea said.
Zhar handed it over, scowling.
Rachel guided the Japanese girl to a large rock, balancing her over it with the collar braced against the stone such that the padlock dangled. A couple whacks from the handle of the pistol scratched it, but had little other effect.
Rachel grumbled. “Shit. My arms are fucked from being cuffed so long… stasis didn’t help much, either. These padlocks will pop open if you hit ‘em just right.”
Althea put a hand on Rachel’s back and concentrated, reaching with her mind into the amorphous shapes of her life essence. She focused energy toward the parts that corresponded to the arms, sending a surge of blood and adrenaline.
Rachel lifted an eyebrow as her muscles undulated and grew in prominence.
Althea smiled. “Try now. Hurry, it will not last long.”
One wallop popped the lock, astounding Rachel with her temporary strength. Ramani could not wait to dive over the stone, almost tackling Aya out of the way.
“I thought Aya was the only one here that eager to bend over.” Zhar chuckled.
“Stop it.” Althea glared. “Can’t you be nice to one person?”
Zhar reluctantly followed suit. She gave Rachel a look as if she expected the pistol to come down on her head rather than the lock, but the strike came true and destroyed the collar. Aya rubbed her bare neck, staring with powerless fear. Something in the woman’s eyes evoked pity from Zhar, and she put an arm around Aya’s back as the group got underway again. She told her about the city she came from and how she did not have to be anyone’s property again, provided they made it. The town had something called “electricity,” and the safety of a mountain to hide under.
Hours passed as the sun wound its way across the sky. Rachel swung the spear about as they traveled, acclimating to its weight and complete lack of balance. Zhar held up a hand to stop them as a structure came into view by a long strip of that same strange black stone path Althea remembered from the Lost Place.
She ran up ahead, squatted at the edge, and touched it. The strange stone burned her, but she smiled anyway. Waving her hand to cool it, she looked in both directions through the scintillating blur clinging to the surface. The others caught up, wary eyes upon the building across from where they had stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel crouched next to Althea.
“This black stone path, I saw it in the Lost Place… where my home is.”
“Lost Place?” Ramani looked up. “What is that?”
Althea described it.
“Sounds like an abandoned city.” Zhar smirked. “There are hundreds of them all over the Badlands.”
Althea looked down with a face as if she had learned someone died. If there were many Lost Places, she may never find her way back to Den.
Rachel rubbed Althea’s back. “This is called a road. There used to be many of them. It’s what cars drive on.”
This, of course, begat a description of what cars were.
Althea had seen a lot of them, but never realized they were supposed to move. She had thought they were for making walls.
“Let’s check the building.” Zhar pointed.
Rachel pulled Althea to her feet, holding her hand in an effort to chase away the sadness settled into the child’s face. “Looks like a burger joint, something along the highway. From the size of it, this was probably an interstate.”
“Highway?” Althea looked up.
“The road.” Rachel smiled.
“But it’s… not high, it’s on the ground.”
“Come on.” Rachel shook her head.
The women sprinted over the boiling surface, pausing to let their feet cool in the shadow of a man, twenty feet tall, made of shattered plastic wrapped about a steel form. Dressed in white, the statue once held an arm aloft. Its eyes were broken out, but the exaggerated smile still gleamed in the sun. Fragments of the old sign had long ago been carried off by the wind and the frame now played host to an army of weeds and ants. Idle hornets glided in and out through the cracks riddling the large chef’s hat.
Most of the building’s windows were broken out, and bullet holes decorated the interior walls. Pictures of plated food hung over a countertop littered with junk and dishes.
Rachel moved up to the nearest windowsill, standing on the gravesite of an old hedge bush. “If they haven’t disintegrated, we can make some clothes out of the seats. Since I’m carrying a god damned spear I might as well have a fuckin’ loincloth to go with it. I doubt there’s any food left.”
She crept up to the door, stepping with care around a minefield of broken glass. Her muscles tensed as she drew a deep breath. Rachel poked the tip of the spear into the door and nudged it open. It scraped with an unpleasant, disharmonic groan of metal on metal. After another hesitant pause, she stepped into a cool, dim space littered with trash. Rachel bristled with shame, as if she walked naked into a public place. Althea winced at the surge of depression rippling through her friend. The condition of the interior had told her a long, long time had passed. Anyone she had known was sure to be dead. Bits of debris on the ground rustled as she took another hesitant step in.
The trash shifted.
Her spear swiveled to point towards the disturbance, but another pile moved behind her. Four roaches the size of skateboards erupted from the garbage, hissing as they reared back. Rachel screamed, jumping the small stairway with the spear over her head.
The bugs followed, two down the steps while the other pair clambered through blown out windows. Aya and Ramani scurried away, with only Aya having the discipline necessary to avoid screaming.
Zhar fired; the bullet struck the nearest one with a loud click and all the effect of a strong punch. Three of the roaches charged at Rachel while the shot one swayed in place, dazed.
Rachel backpedaled, screaming. “What the hell, giant fucking cockroaches! Really? Can this get any more messed up?”
Althea knew what they were.
She yelled. “Their shells are magic! Hit them in the belly or the mouth when they hiss, it’s the only way to hurt them!”
“Hell with that, they don’t run fast,” Zhar called out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Rachel sprinted towards the others. The word bounced out of her each time her foot hit the dirt.
Althea stood her ground as the women ran past, reaching into the back of her mind for an old trick. The glow in her eyes grew brighter; she held her arms out, spread her fingers, and radiated primal fear. The bugs skidded to a halt a few feet away, all focused on her. Their shells split open and angry buzzing wings thrummed a threatening drone into the air. It didn’t scare her. They couldn’t fly as heavy as they were; all they could do was make noise.
The sight and sound of the wings was too much for Aya and she panicked. Althea intensified the radiance and took a step towards the roaches. Sensing her as a dire threat, they retreated into the old restaurant, s
napping at the air and hissing. Althea glared at the dark doorway, lowing her arms as she relaxed her power.
Rachel was the first back to her.
“What the hell was that?” She pulled the girl around by the shoulder to face her.
Althea blinked innocently.
“The creatures know the Prophet.” Ramani’s awestruck voice was almost full in tone.
“Yeah… Whatever. Guess we’re not going back in there.” Rachel growled in frustration. “Looks like Imma spend a few more days wandering naked in the desert.” She kicked a puff of sand into the air.
“You kin spend ‘em naked in our trailer instead.” A male voice came from behind, riding a melodic twang.
“Heh.” An older sounding man followed, his words cascading upon the undercurrent of a dry whistle. “Heard the gunshot, figured there was some raiders ta kill. Looks like we’s hit the tittie jackpot, Bobby!”
Ramani folded her arms over her chest. To Althea’s surprise, Aya did not show hers off, instead clutching Ramani’s arm with a downcast stare laced with anger.
Two men had come out of nowhere, both in white and grey fatigues, with smallish, ancient black rifles aimed at the group.
“Never thought M4’s would survive the end of the world,” said Rachel. “I doubt they work.”
“You wanna gamble on dat? Nice and easy now, bitch. Drop tha piece.” The shorter one on the right wagged his gun at Zhar.
Aya collapsed to her knees, sobbing into her hands. Ramani joined her, falling with an arm across her former cellmate’s back and weeping at such a short taste of freedom.
With a dull plop, the gun fell from Zhar’s hand into the dirt. Two rifles was not an even match against a single pistol.
“Good thing you saved that bullet,” Rachel muttered.
Zhar glared.
“Wait.” Althea stepped forward, opening her eyes so she was sure they could see the glow. “I will go with you if you let the women go free. I am the Prophet.”
“Holy sheepshit, Billy. It is! Look at ‘er eyes!” The shorter one on the left shook with excitement.
“Well I’ll be damned.” The older man’s hoarse wheeze burbled into a coughing fit of laughter.
“Take me alone, and I will do whatever you want.” Althea pitched her head down and approached the one with greying hair.
“Baby, no!” Rachel muttered. “Don’t do this.”
“Okay.” The short man grinned and pulled a bundle of rope out of his backpack. Tossing it to Rachel, he pointed at the other three. “Tie ‘em up, and do it good. I shoot ‘em if it’s too loose.”
“But…” Althea balled her hands into fists.
“We gonna leave ‘em here, just don’t wanna be followed case they get any fancy idears ‘bout followin’ us.”
Rachel stared at the idiot.
He kept his rifle trained on her, making a series of lustful faces. “Course, that black girl’s cuter’n all hell. I cain’t hardly wait.”
“On the ground. Face down, move it, bitches.” The older one pointed with his gun.
The three women complied. Rachel tied them each in turn, Zhar glaring death as her hands were bound behind her back.
“Legs too.” He kept his gun on her the whole time.
The emotions that surrounded the short man while he watched the women squirm forced Althea to look away, feeling sick. When the others were secure, he walked up behind Rachel and slung his rifle over his shoulder.
She protested as he gathered her arms behind her and fumbled with the rope. “You can’t just leave us here like this; the bugs will eat us. Leave a knife or something so we can get loose once you’re outta here.”
“Don’t worry, princess. You will be safe wit us.” His laughter came with a speckling rattle that coated Rachel’s back with spittle and the smell of last night’s whiskey. “Billy, go get the truck once I get this sweet piece of ass roped.”
“You lied!” Althea wailed, staring up at the older man as she fought to get her arm free of his grasp.
“Jeezis Billy, ya dun’ lied!” The short man faked astonishment. “What wrong wit you!”
The older man’s voice was a slow drawl. “Spose’n I did then. Ah guess you’ll have to complain to the law.” He glanced left and right. “Whoops… ain’t no law.”
Both men laughed.
Althea scowled at the dirt around her toes. “You’re bad.”
“Kid, make them stop,” Zhar hissed.
She stared at the ground, terrified of how people would treat her if they knew she could do such things. Her mind filled with nightmares of leashes and cages. It would be better to just behave like a good little girl. If she looked up, she would see Rachel’s face and feel like she betrayed her new friend. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she searched for the courage to use her power.
“No!” Althea looked at the man holding her arm, her fear reduced the command to one word.
Rachel growled, yanking her wrist out of the half-cinched loop of rope and jamming her elbow into the short man’s gut. Another cloud of whiskey-laden saliva sprayed out of his mouth as he gasped for air. Spinning, she drove the ridge of her hand into his throat before grabbing his arm and collar and flipping him to the ground on his face. Bobby convulsed, clawing at his throat as he gurgled for breath.
The older man’s reaction slowed due to Althea’s ambiguous command. When he shifted to fire, Althea dove over his rifle, adding her weight to the task of aiming. The old man growled, lifting her and the weapon into the air. She slowed him down enough. Rachel somersaulted over Bobby’s rifle and came up on one knee in a combat posture. Two rapid shots thundered in echo to the horizon; blood spattered on Althea’s back. The rifle fell from the weakened arm, and she landed on all fours on top of it.
Rachel fast-walked closer, firing another round into the older man’s head. Althea crawled away, cowering. Two holes seeped blood from the center of his chest, and the top of his skull had blown out.
Zhar’s angry roar became confused silence as her impersonation of a fish on dry land got her free much faster than she expected. Understanding Rachel tied her loose on purpose, she discarded her anger and sat up, kicking her ankles free of rope. Althea dragged the rifle away from the older man, throwing it off to the side, and moved to stand between the still-living man and Rachel with a hand held up to both sides.
“Please don’t kill them. Nobody needs to die.”
A squishy crunch drew attention to Zhar. She had kicked in the ribs of the small man.
She enjoyed doing it.
“No!” Althea wailed through tears. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t? It’s did,” said Zhar.
Rachel squeezed Althea’s shoulder.
Zhar approached in a curving path that let her pause to grab the older man’s rifle. “Look, kid. Maybe you are the Prophet, but you are as weak as Aya. She doesn’t know which way to walk without a leash pulling her along. People will own you till you stand up for yourself, even if you don’t believe you’re owned.” She aimed at the man on the ground, despite the child trying to get in the way.
“Wait.” Rachel held up a hand. “Don’t shoot him.”
Zhar glared confusion at her. Althea smiled.
“Don’t wanna waste bullets right? Use a knife.” Rachel pulled Althea away, holding her tight so she did not have to witness. “Oh, and get his pants off first so he doesn’t shit them nasty.”
Althea sobbed at the sounds of the struggle that ended with a crunch, a gurgle, and an icy tickle at the bottom of her heart.
“Easy, child.” Rachel patted her on the back. “Some men just gotta die. Way it is. If good people don’t fight the bad ones, we’ll be overrun with evil. What do you think those two would have done to us? What do you think they’d have done to the next women they found if we let ‘em live?”
Althea could not stop crying. She knew full well wifeing would have been the activity of the night, and many nights after, but killing them felt wrong. Clinging to Ra
chel’s side, she stared through her fluttering hair at Zhar as the tall redhead stripped the corpses of their clothes and dragged the bodies away out of sight. She thought about Rachel’s fear of being wifed, how similar it was to her own. These two would not have been pleasant captors; they might have even wifed her too, Prophet and all. She buried her face in Rachel’s arms, not wanting to pursue the line of thought to the sad conclusion it really was better these two men died.
“Hello?” Ramani lifted her head. “Will someone please untie me now?”
Rachel patted Althea on the back and kicked the small man in the head on her way to Ramani. “S’pose we should thank these kind gentlemen for bringing us weapons and clothes.”
he frayed maroon padding was perhaps the most comfortable thing Althea had been permitted to sleep on in many years. Hidden from sight below a slab of plastic-coated wood jutting out from the wall, she curled on her side with her right arm folded under her head, staring at the points of blue light that came back at her from the table’s tarnished chrome brace. A gurgle of hunger murmured inside her, the sensation of it fleeing from the gentle caress of her fingers over her gut.
“Picked clean” was how Rachel had described the place they found a few miles down the road from the roach-infested one; there was nothing here to eat. Tiny tables and bench seats packed wall to wall in the long, thin building. Small plastic cacti with cartoon eyes smiled at her from all over the walls; some held food, like tacos, that she recognized. The pictures were similar to what they ate at Den’s village. She smiled, thinking of the first time she shared one with him and had spilled it all over herself.
Althea wanted to giggle and cry at the same time as she remembered the feeling of the hot food rolling down her chest into her lap, but she did neither. The women muttered at the end of the room, closer to the door. They had put her at the table Rachel considered the safest, nowhere near a window or a door where she could be stolen in the night. She sat up, shifting so she could peek over the bench. The dried out faux leather, warm against her belly, scratched as she rested her chin atop her folded arms on the seatback.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 11