There were however, a few that didn’t seem as disturbed. A man on the far corner stood bundled up in his rags, glaring at Drifter. Another was a woman on the other side, appearing oblivious but listening in. There were two children, almost too aware of the surroundings around Jacob. Any of them could be it. He had an idea, who it was but—
Bang.
A single shot soar through the air, smashing into the woman’s leg. She doubled over, crashing into the mud. Blood oozed from her shattered knee, wailing. Chaos ensued for a while, only for a few more shots to be fired, this time in the air. Stillness settled over the land as Graham emerged from the shadows.
Heron and Wood both scowled in surprise.
“A bit late, but right on time.”
Graham hardly recognized Drifter’s words, and went directly for his target. “Wood. Heron. Good call.”
“I don’t appreciate you taking the glory,” Heron snapped, eyes lowered dangerously.
“Or ruining our fun.”
Seizing the woman’s arm, Graham just gave a glance towards the company. That moment was different. Heron didn’t mock them. Wood noticed him. Both of them couldn’t deny how frightening he looked. “You aren’t the only ones that can hunt.” A grim, lifeless grin followed the icy words. “Now if you excuse me, this lady and I have some quality time to spend together.”
Drifter sat up, and again didn’t say a word.
_
Ragnar found himself uncomfortably in the back seat of a truck, holding on to the edge. To his side, River sat whistling an unrecognizable tune. To his left was the enigmatic Lt. Brink.
Brink was a remarkably young man, no older than eighteen or nineteen. He was clean shaved with hair cropped close enough to be bald. Long and leanly muscled, he fit in his white armored uniform well. His face, a chiseled structure of high cheekbones and a narrow chin, was cemented in a hard line. Thinking consumed every moment of free time on this bumpy ride for him. He barely spoke. No one expect him to come along.
“I don’t see a reason for you coming along,” Ragnar admitted, shining his axe.
Brink cleaned his weapon well, a well taken care of FAL. A frightful weapon, that. He didn’t even seem to process the question, just continued to look forward. He always looked forward. “I trusted both of you with a task—River, specifically—to contain a situation in hope to curb some time from this horrendous task.”
River stuck out her tongue. “It could have been done if you didn’t want to tag along like a drunken friend on a first date.”
The change happened at the last possible moment. River and Ragnar, accompanied by more of the Descendents from the Ancestor’s order, were well on the way down the Moonlight Marches. That was when Brink showed up. He appeared in a very simple armored truck, unloading with two other dangerous-looking men. They were much more equipped than any of the lesser soldiers, flanking their leader with a drone personality. Everyone knew that a Son of the Ancestors were dangerous in this new world. Brink was proof of that.
Now, they were traveling with them. Ragnar hated it. He would have liked nothing more than to stay back in his forest. These people were trouble. Blood and revenge for Drifter’s sin had to be paid. But, he couldn’t shake this feeling. A cloud settled over his mood. These people can’t be trusted. These people are going to get you killed. Death clung deeply to this mission. A doctor knew death better than anyone else.
Brink cleared his throat, noticing the change in Ragnar’s expression from his peripherals. “Why is an intelligent man like you coming with us, Doctor?”
“This world has changed me,” Ragnar admitted.
“Not as much as you may think. In the core, everyone’s the same as they were. So, I’ll ask again. Why are you coming?”
“It’s about your precious little wife as always,” River interrupted. “You can’t let it go. Puppy dogs can never let go.”
The truth stung pretty deep. The fact is that is the only reason he was here.
Drifter took the only thing in this world he cared about. The bombs and the weapons took his job, his stability, and his hopes. But, that caravan took a part of his humanity. Men raided them as they left their homes, equipped with fire power from that sly beast. They tore through his wife and unborn, injured him so badly that he could barely move. They left him to die.
He tried to save her. She begged for him to survive, survive at any cost to live. He survived on them by eating them. He dug through his own wounds, push through his own pain. Life granted him some strength to live…to figure out who bestowed these wounds. It had all led back to Drifter, that man that took everything by handing over a few weapons in the wrong hands.
Hate kept him alive. And hate would kill him.
“Yes, River. That’s the reason.”
River opened her mouth to speak; however, she was stopped by a simple hand gesture from Brink. Green flames rippled from the ends of her hair. “Don’t ever do that to me.”
“Don’t you threaten me, girl. This is no place for children.”
“Says the man-child,” River retorted. She reeled herself back, assuming her normal demeanor and quelling the flame. She crossed her legs, and put her hands in her lap. “I’m just here to enjoy myself. Please don’t ruin a good time for me, Brinkies.”
“Empty threats. But we can keep it civil. We all have a goal here: to rid Drifter and his rag-tag group of bastards. We have different reasons, but the point is that we need to handle this. Drifter is a good man, but can be cruel. I cannot let him live for obvious reasons.”
“Drifter isn’t your target, sweetie.” River giggled almost the moment she finished the sentence.
Ragnar turned his head towards Brink, who took the words better than a knight taking a blade in his armor. “You…aren’t after Drifter specifically?”
“I’ve gotten wind of someone. That someone knows they shouldn’t know. Ridding Drifter would be nice, but he would be chasing dead ends without this specific piece. I cannot allow that to be.”
“You’re after Graham-cracker. Oh!!!”
“Quick to catch on, aren’t you, River?”
The road seemed far less bumpy as Brink brought his head up. He placed the FAL to his side, glaring. There was nothing in that expression, yet those black eyes held all the emotion. Ragnar, to his side, couldn’t see them as River did. But he felt it. He felt a shift. There were no more games. No more laughing. This man wasn’t just dangerous, he was a plague.
“You’re astute, but stop playing in a pond that you don’t know the depth of. Little girls tend to drown in those.”
River backed off, lips pressed together. A drape of hair covered her eyes, but she was angry, so angry that she was trembling. Yet, she couldn’t find a rebuttal. Not with that glance, not with that power that he held over everything. So, she sat, looking incredibly smaller than the man about equal to her age.
“But—“ Ragnar began.
“Yes. I’m after Graham, Doctor. He has something, something that he doesn’t know he has. It’s a shame really. But it’s something that has to be done. I hope that the two of you…cooperate,” he spat the last word out like venom, “And listen. I’m going to need you to listen. Can you listen?”
It wasn’t a question. It was an order.
Ragnar knew his thoughts were true. This man is going to get us killed. One way or another.
_
“I’m going to ask again.”
Her name was Alice, and she wasn’t in Wonderland. Or was she?
She had been taken to a dark room in the most rusty of the RVs. Her hands were bound. Her leg was bandaged up, knee shattered. Anesthesia pumped through her veins, quelling the unbearable amount of pain she felt. Alice slumped in the seat, barely keeping herself awake. If it wasn’t for her captors, she would have fallen asleep. Or maybe she had already, and this was some horrible nightmare.
“I’m going to ask again…why were you here?”
Alice w
as afraid.
The room was dark, only the stench of old metal permeating the air. Small slithers of light poured onto her face from the metal shutters that her chair faced. Cool air splashed against her. The sun was setting. She had been out for a while. How long she couldn’t say? All she could say that the sun was setting and the only light in this horrid situation was fading. She would be alone with this man; a man she knew was slowly becoming a devil.
“I—I was…” Alice tripped over her words. They hadn’t even touched her. She hadn’t been beaten or raped or anything. But she was compelled by pure fear to want to speak. Right now, she managed to swallow the urge however. “I can’t tell you.”
“Shame.” The sounds of boots against metal resonated in the air. Unlike a normal person, she couldn’t feel his heat when he got close. His presence was almost invisible to her. Yet she could hear him circling, over and over again. He must have been at this for hours. He was patient, asking the same question over and over. It was his voice. She expected a normal voice, she didn’t get that. Instead, she got a harsh rough one that she associated with a horror movie.
Even when he wasn’t talking, she heard his voice.
Long seconds passed. Minutes fell after. Still nothing. This man made no moves, just paced.
Her heart paced as well.
This man was scheming. He was plotting her death. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t wipe the sweat from her brow.
“Do you need some water?” The man asked.
She nodded, and only heard as the man dipped a canteen in a bucket of water.
The sound of his boots drifted in her direction. She saw his shadow on the floor, long and stretched. Her mind played tricks on her. For a few times, she thought she saw horns. Others, her eyes believed she saw extra limbs. At the end, she only saw a man tapping against her shoulder with a steel bottle near her face. “Now…” he said slowly, lowering himself to her seated height. “Can we talk now?”
She met his face for the first. Amongst, the darkness she could see it.
Graham was close, nose and forehead touching hers as though he was about to yell. His skin was colder than anything that she ever touched, clammy and thick. Eyes, dull white, ate away her confidence. The decayed soldier took a deep breath, showing his chipped and discolored teeth. He smelled of death. Not just from his skin or his appearance, it was like blood was stained on his very being. That is what scared her the most. Aside from the fact a pistol sat on her temple as he spoke.
“Who brought you here?” Graham said, taking a swig of the canteen. “Or the next thing I drink won’t be so clear and I’ll have a new cup. Your damn skull. So talk.” He slammed the container, almost denting it.
That broke her, and both of them heard it.
“Please don’t….Please don’t’...I’ll talk…”
Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know if it was the meds that was talking or the fear. All she knew is that she met her King of Hearts, and she didn’t want to lose her head.
15
Lure
“Someone has to pick up the pieces, even if it’s glass.”
Graham knew a lot of information now. No one asked how he got it. For now, they were just pleased that he had gotten it. They didn’t even ask what happened to the captive. They also didn’t want to know that.
For the first few minutes the soldier, more of a freelance gun now, rode silently. Everyone looked expectedly at him. Yet, he didn’t speak. He just reclined backwards, hands on his stomach and feet crossed. They were a day or so away from the Tear. Even Conjurer’s information earlier wasn’t enough to pin point the exact location of an Ancestor’s hideout. But, he knew. He knew exactly where everything was. He was just waiting, waiting for the topic to come up.
“Anyone else getting a real bad feeling, fellas,” Haggis started, over the radio. He and his brother needed to drive the tanks, but they were still advisors to the team. “I mean, hella bad. You feel it, Pub.”
Pub was quiet for a while. “Yeah…”
Everyone knew that wasn’t a good thing. Rarely did the brothers show blatant concerns. They would joke; maybe laugh about the situation as a whole. But, their shared bad feelings were like a black cat crossing your path, without the argument of superstition.
“There’s something off,” Wood admitted as well.
Crisium tossed her hair. “With the amount of bad feelings goin’ around, we might as well take a detour to hell.”
“We’ve come this far. I rather not turn around a mass of trucks, and waste the obscene amount of gas it took us to get here.” Heron crossed her legs, staring at Drifter who had been incredibly quiet. She knew, like everyone else here, that he wasn’t going to turn around. The danger was going to be great anyway, no matter where they hid. They angered a demon, now they were fighting the flames.
“Can’t back down from ‘em,” Tyrus agreed. “No matter what we do. They’ll butcher us like hams.”
“Should we have fucked with them in the first place?” No one really wanted to believe what Juvenico said. But, it had probably crossed everyone’s mind. Was the truth that important, that vital that it would cost everyone their lives?
Drifter shook his head, tilting his hat down. “No one said it was going to be free.”
Everything has a cost. Graham learned about prices. So did Alice. At the end of the day, you paid it even if you didn’t have the coin to. Tenseness settled in everyone’s guts as they came to the truth.
“So, Graham…” Crisium asked, staring at him. “What’d you learn from Alice?”
Included in the discussion, Graham put his propped feet on the ground and stared at the group. They wanted those words, but could they handle them? “The Ancestors, or at least a part of them, are held up in Huston. The city is pretty much locked down, specifically locked down for security reasons. A lot of people see it as a refuge for lost souls. We don’t know what they are actually doing there.”
“That makes sense, the Ancestors usually like the larger cities. That’s the main reason we avoid them…one of the reasons at least.”
“Crisium, that’s an understatement. If the Ancestors don’t have it, savages or heavily mutated bastards have them. Either way, it’s pretty bad news.” Tyrus pulled the manifest, a thickly bound black book from Conjurer off the shelf. “Makes sense though.” He fingered through the pages. “There’re shipments from Conjurer’s company before the Armageddon to various places in the world.”
“Demeter Enterprises,” Heron muttered. “It was a medical research company.”
Wood and Drifter, who had been remarkably quiet, shared a very dark chuckle.
“Is there something funny?” Graham asked.
“Demeter, goddess of growth and life.” The explanation from Wood was simple, but served its purpose. Growth and life were probably the two things that this world lacked.
“It the company that your father tried to get hooked up with by employing your type of company to seal the deal,” Pub added.
Heron growled almost savagely at the joke, wishing that she could get close enough to punch him. “Yes…” she growled. “Apparently, he was interested in the research that Demeter had to offer.”
“I’m startin’ to see why.” Tyrus placed the manifest down, spreading it out for everyone. “Look here.”
Pub laughed. “Kind of have my eyes on the road.”
“Yeah, fella. Bit busy driving,” Haggis added.
“Shut up and drink your ale, Scots,” Tyrus joked, as he scanned through the information. “Whatever they were exportin’—there’s a lot of the stuff.”
“ ‘ey does it say what they were shipping, amigo?” Juvenico asked, leaning over to see it.
“No,” Tyrus responded, eyebrow arched. “Why did you think I said “whatever”?’
“Don’t mind his stupidity,” Heron waved it off. “Who is it going to is the most important thing?”
Graham pus
hed himself out of the chair to stand over the book himself. There was a large amount of information on the page. Conjurer was significantly thorough on paper, especially in a once digital age. He marked each of his shipments in tables, each marked with dates leading up to a specific event. Graham looked at the notes. Each was specifically different….almost like something was being tested.
Then it clicked.
“Conjurer was sending what would be P-X3s and X-12.”
Dark thoughts settled within the crowd. It made sense. The trades were sent to almost every part of the country, spreading like a web across the United States. From those many locations, they could be sent to various places around the world—like the cache in the Boneyard of Florida. Then finally, it broke. The world broke from these chemicals.
“Dammit, who could’ve funded this shit?” Crisium spat.
Juvenico frowned. “And more importantly...why would Conjurer risk so much giving this away…
“He didn’t expect us to get out of there alive. It was a good lure…” Graham thought about it more deeply. That was a significant risk, even as a lure. The people, the survivors deserved to know what happened to them. The people responsible for this had to be brought to justice for they can move on and rebuild. No. Conjurer may be angry that his attack failed, but he would have had a trap. Why would they risk it….unless—
“Everyone.”
Drifter stood suddenly. “We aren’t out of the woodworks yet. Stop the trucks.” With a single order, the trucks stopped. Everyone looked wearily at one another. They knew that they were in danger. Conjurer would not let them live. “Get out everyone. Get to your stations.” Drifter clasped his hands, with the expression of disdain on his face. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Dusk Territories: Always Burning Page 20