The Dead Saga | Book 7 | Odium 7

by Riley, Claire C.

  Battle and O’Donnell and Texas came over and stared down at him, all of their faces growing somber. O’Donnell had a splash of blood across her face, like a mist of red, and when she looked between me and Battle it was with pure hate.

  “I told you we shouldn’t do this,” she said with scorn.

  “He’s going to be fine!” SJ snapped, sounding desperate, like she needed to believe her own lie even as the truth stared her in the face.

  Battle dropped to his knees in the mud and he used his knife to cut away the material so we could get a better look at the damage to Timbo’s legs. I almost wished he hadn’t when I saw the state of them. Chunks had been torn away from his calves and bloody sinew hung in clumps from the gaping holes. His legs had been ravaged. The infection was no doubt pumping its way through his bloodstream at that very moment, every beat of his heart killing him slowly, turning him into one of the monsters he despised so much.

  There were only two ways to possibly save him from that fate. To give him a very slim chance of survival.

  “Oh Jesus!” O’Donnell said, putting a hand to her mouth.

  “It’s okay. I can fix this,” Battle said, his gaze on Timbo’s legs. “I think, but we need to be quick.”

  “How? How the hell can you fix this?” O’Donnell leaned down and yelled in his face, her hand gesturing angrily to Timbo.

  But I already knew what Battle was going to say before he said it. His fleeting glance toward me told me everything he wanted to do and more.

  Battle pulled out another blade from one of the many pockets in his cargo pants. He fastened the leather cover on the sheath, securing the knife inside the leather, and then he hovered it over Timbo’s mouth.

  “Open up,” he grunted.

  “What are you doing?” SJ asked.

  Timbo stared up at Battle, his widening gaze telling me that he too was rapidly putting the pieces together.

  “This is really going to hurt, man,” Battle said, his gaze still locked with Timbo’s.

  “What’s going to hurt? What’s happening?” SJ asked, sounding frantic. She glanced up around us, her gaze straying to me…to my arm. “No, you can’t!” she begged, her voice sounding pained. “He’ll be okay.”

  She pushed away the sheathed knife that Battle was still hovering over Timbo’s face, but Timbo grabbed her arm and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently and squeezed her hand.

  “It’s okay,” he said, softly, and then he turned to Battle and shook his head. “Let me go.”

  “No!” SJ cried out loudly now, even more frantic than before. She looked at Battle, pleading with him. For something. For anything. For a miracle. “Do it, please do it! Save him,” she cried, completely changing her previous decision. “Cut them off, save him!”

  Timbo squeezed her hand tighter and she looked back down at him. “No. I don’t wanna live like that.”

  “Please,” SJ sobbed.

  Timbo had gone pale, blood loss and pain washing his features. He took a stuttering breath and then reached for Battle’s knife. Keeping the other man’s hand wrapped around it, he directed the weapon to his forehead.

  “Do it quick, before it’s too late,” Timbo grunted. “I can feel it already.”

  I took a step back, my back bumping Linc as I did. We shared an uncomfortable look with one another, one that said more than words ever could. Neither of us wanted to see this.

  “The damage is done. And I feel diseased. I’m down on my knees. And I need forgiveness.” Timbo coughed, blood spittle landing on his lips. He looked up at SJ and smiled, his teeth tinged with blood. “Now I want release. From all this disease. Take it away.”

  “Stop with the lyrics, Tim. I can’t right now, okay? I just can’t,” she whimpered.

  Timbo nodded apologetically. “Those lyrics are the only way I can express myself, Sally,” he said, his features tightening. The whites of his eyes were turning yellow, a film beginning to cloud his gaze. “It’s all I have.”

  “It’s not—you have so much more to give,” she replied.

  “I want it over with,” Timbo said clearly, making sure we all knew exactly what he wanted to happen next. “I don’t wanna be in this cruel world anymore. I don’t wanna live and die and try. I’m tired. I wanna go home.” He coughed, pink spittle coating his chin.

  SJ nodded and leaned over him, placing her forehead against his chest. “Okay, okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Tim.” She sniffed and looked up into his face. “Close your eyes now. You’ll be home soon.”

  Timbo smiled and then he looked over at us all, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer before sliding to O’Donnell. “Soap won’t wash away your shame,” he said, his smile dying as he stared at us both accusingly.

  He closed his eyes and held on tight to SJ’s hand, bloody saliva trailing from the side of his mouth. His body had started to twitch, his muscles contracting and tightening as the virus took him over, and SJ glanced up at Battle and then looked away in acceptance.

  I looked away then, not being able to bear to watch Battle plunge the knife into Timbo’s head. But I heard it, and not for the first time since I’d had my hand taken, I wished it was me on the other end of the knife.

  32.

  Mikey

  “What are you doing here?” Aiken drolled in his usual manner, but his harsh expression told me he wasn’t happy in any way that I was there.

  “Heard you needed more bodies on the ground, so I thought I’d roll up and help out,” I replied. “Don’t look at me like that, Aiken, we got the Savages at the gas station sorted out. It’s all good.”

  I glanced around at the group of people, of which there were many. Men and women, some I knew from Haven, but most of the people I didn’t recognize at all. And then a familiar face among the many strangers stood out to me. It was the big, bearded guy I’d seen in Joan’s sketches, and he was glaring at me like he wanted to rip my head off and shove it down my own neck.

  “Hey there, big guy,” I said, giving a wave and a smile. Something about that man made me angry, though I had no reason to dislike him other than self-preservation. “You sure do like looking at me.” I winked at him.

  “They’re dead?” Aiken asked, clearly meaning the Savages.

  “No, we decided to have a little tea party with them. Kelli is cooking them up some lunch now. I’m thinking…and this might seem a little crazy, but hear me out… I’m thinking, pecan pie.” I clapped my hands together gleefully. “I mean, we’ve missed a bunch of Thanksgivings, and what better way to introduce these psychos into our homes than by feeding them pie?”

  “Mikey…” Aiken warned, a scowl on his face. “This ain’t the time.”

  I held my arms out wide. “What do you mean this ain’t the time? You asked if they were dead—what kind of response did you expect from me? Of course they’re dead, why else would I hightail my way here? Though I’m not gonna lie, the pecan pie situation is still in play.”

  Aiken shook his head at me, his eyebrows pulled down hard. “Told you not to come here.”

  “Well, technically you told me to go to the gas station and deal with the Savages there, and I did, so now I’m here because I thought you meant to deal with them there and then come help deal with them here…” I tapped the side of my head.

  “That’s not quite what I meant,” Aiken replied, his tone suggesting he was sick of my bullshit.

  “Semantics.” I shrugged. “I’m here now, so let’s do this.”

  “That’s Max’s bike,” the bearded biker said, and I turned my attention to him.

  “Uhh, yeah, he let me borrow it.” It was a lie and he saw right through it.

  He took a step forward and Aiken slammed a hand against his chest. Quick as lightning, the other bikers had pulled out their guns and aimed them at Aiken while the one that seemed to be in charge batted the other Aiken’s hand away, and for a moment I worried we’d all just start killing each other instead of the Savages.

  “Shooter, I
’m sure Mikey has a reasonable explanation,” Aiken said, his jaw tight with restrained anger. He wasn’t used to being pushed around and told what to do, and he really didn’t like having guns pointed at him.

  “It better be a Goddamn good explanation or he’s a dead man,” growled the biker Aiken had just called Shooter. Fucking growled, like a dog.

  “Honest to God, he said I could borrow it,” I replied casually. “Something about teamwork and us all in this together.” As soon as the words were out, I knew they had been the wrong ones. The air tensed even further and Shooter took another step toward me, his ice blue eyes piercing.

  I should have been terrified of him, but I wasn’t. I’d gone up against much worse than him.

  He laughed low and dark, venom dripping from his lips as he stared at me. “A Highwayman don’t just borrow someone his bike, and Max certainly wouldn’t borrow you his.” He looked me up and down angrily, like I was something he’d just stepped in that disgusted him.

  I’d never met Shooter before, but to me, at least, he seemed like a giant asshole. Not only was he overly aggressive, but he didn’t even know me and he’d already decided that I was his enemy. In a world filled with so many villains, I couldn’t fathom someone who would choose to make more enemies.

  “Listen, I can’t say why he felt the urge to help me out like this, but he did. Freddy got shot in the arm—”

  “Freddy got shot?” Aiken said, his eyebrows pulling down. “Goddamn it, Mikey.”

  I shrugged. “What? I didn’t shoot him!”

  “You open up with him being shot, damn it, don’t just slide that it like it ain’t important.” He pulled the toothpick from his mouth and threw it to the ground.

  “If it helps, the Savages that turned up are all dead, and he was the only one who got hurt.” I shrugged apologetically, though I wasn’t actually apologetic. In my eyes, it had all worked out great, all things considered. No one on our team had died and every one on the Savages had died. I was happy with that outcome. It was a shame about Freddy, but it could have been any one of us and we all knew the odds going into it, and he was okay. It was just an arm, after all. He was alive, that was the important thing. “He’s fine, it’s just an arm, Aiken!”

  The biker snorted out a dry laugh and shook his head.

  “What is your problem?” I bit out, getting pissed off with him now.

  “You’re my problem,” he replied, his expression deadly.

  “Where is he now?” Aiken said, interrupting us both.

  “Listen, motherfucker, there’s more important things going on here than someone getting shot in the arm. Like where the hell my VP is and why this fucker is riding Max’s bike,” Shooter snarled angrily.

  I held up a placating hand. “Calm down,” I began, only to be interrupted.

  “Calm down? I should kill you where you stand,” Shooter snapped.

  “Prez, if I may,” another biker said, coming forward. He slid his gun into his belt and pressed his lips together tightly. “We’re in the middle of the viper pit, and the more bodies we have to cut off the heads of these snakes, the better. So maybe we kill him afterwards?”

  “Balls, you do know who that is, right?” another biker piped up, and I turned with narrowed eyes to look at him, my gaze flicking over all of the bikers currently standing behind me.

  “Shut up!” Shooter roared. “All of you keep your damned mouths shut before I shut them for you. Now isn’t the time.”

  He stared at each of them furiously, and I frowned even harder as I came to a realization.

  These men knew me…but how?

  “Where is Gauge?” Shooter said between gritted teeth, bringing me back from my suspicious thoughts.

  “He’ll be here any time, no doubt,” I said. “I stole Max’s bike,” I admitted finally. Because why not? All my lying was doing was digging my own grave. “Everyone’s okay though, they all are—barring Freddy, of course. That part was the truth.”

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Aimee said, finally speaking up, and I gave her the middle finger.

  The corner of my mouth picked up. “And that’s exactly why I came. Seemed like everyone was trying to keep me away from the biggest fight we’d ever seen. We’re shorthanded and yet I was being sent home?” I shook my head. “That’s not right. So here I am, ready to go into the viper pit and slay these bitches with you. Now who wants to stop me?”

  Silence fell around the group as they looked between themselves, coming to the conclusion that the only way to get me to leave would be to kill me. And since that wasn’t going to happen, I figured I was golden.

  The shorter, tubbier man that someone had called Balls erupted into a coughing fit before finally regaining control of his body.

  “Well, he’s here now,” he said.

  “Yeah, isn’t he just,” Shooter replied, still looking pissed off.

  In the distance, I heard the roar of motorcycles and knew that the other bikers had finally caught up to me, and I braced myself for yet another argument.

  The bikes pulled into the small clearing we were standing in and Max was diving off the back of Gauge’s bike and striding toward me before Gauge had even pulled the bike to a stop.

  “I’m going to kill you!” he yelled.

  I believed him too.

  Thankfully everyone around us decided that I was needed and stepped in his way. He didn’t take too kindly to that and shoved one of the other bikers, a heavily tattooed dark-haired man, to the ground.

  Balls stood in front of me like a sentry and held up his hand.

  “Move!” Max barked at him.

  “Watch your tone, prospect!” Balls yelled in his face, and though Max continued to glare, he stopped trying to get past him.

  Gauge had pulled his bike to a stop and now it was his turn to storm forward, his finger thrust in my direction. “I gave you an order!” he bellowed. “You think you don’t need to listen to me? You don’t need to fall in line like everyone else?”

  Highlander was coming up the rear, an ear-splitting smile on his face like he thought the whole thing was funny as shit.

  “We have more important things going on right now, brother,” Balls argued, his gaze going between Max and Gauge, who were now both stopped in front of him. Gauge’s eyes narrowed on Balls, a look of exasperation and shock on his face.

  “I will knock your fucking teeth out if you don’t move out of my way now,” Gauge bellowed.

  I glanced over at Shooter, already feeling his eyes burning into the back of my skull.

  “You should control him,” I said sarcastically.

  “You should control your mouth before my VP controls it for you, and trust me, I won’t stop him,” he replied.

  “I don’t know why you do it to yourself, Mikey,” Aiken sighed heavily. He rolled his shoulders and clapped his hands together loudly. “All right, that’s enough! We’re here to fight the Savages, not each other.”

  “That’s still up for discussion,” Gauge snarled, staring directly at me.

  “The more people we have here to help, the better. Mikey says you guys killed off the ones at the meet—great. The Rejects men, Linc and Texas, said they would set off a bomb loud enough for us to hear if things went south at the waterfall, and the fact that we haven’t heard diddly or squat means—at least I hope—that things have gone just dandy there. That leaves us with just this place to tear apart.” Aiken took a deep breath and assessed us all. “Mikey, I needed you back at Haven to make sure that place was protected. You’ve gone against my orders and for that there will be consequences, but right now, we all need to focus on the matter at hand—”

  “Killing these bitches,” another biker chimed in, and Aiken nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, killing these bitches. So let’s put this shit to bed for now and focus on ending this.” He pointed emphatically to the ground between them and I knew exactly what he meant. I’d felt it since I’d stepped off the motorcycle.

  There was a th
read of evil…of something sinister and dark running through the core of this place. It made the air hard to breathe, like whatever current of evil was in the place had poisoned the air.

  “Things are going well,” he continued. “The ball is, as we say, well and truly in our court. Let’s keep it that way.” He pulled another toothpick out of his pocket and shoved it between his teeth before looking us all over carefully, making sure that we were all in agreement.

  And we were. Obviously.

  Especially me.

  “This isn’t over,” Gauge said, reaching around Balls and jabbing me in the chest.

  Gauge still looked like he wanted to kill me and so did Shooter, but their hate for the Savages outweighed mine right now. The other bikers, from the way they looked at me, seemed to know me, though I didn’t have a damn clue who they were. The whole thing was weirding me out, but I was determined to get to the bottom of it regardless. No matter what the consequences. But right then, we all seemed to be in agreement that we needed to focus on our enemy: the Savages.

  We were all here now to end this. And whatever happened today, no matter who lived and who died, it felt good. Like I had come full circle. This past year I’d spent fearing these women and their cruelty, but now, here, in this place seeded with darkness, my fear was gone and all I felt was the peaceful realization that by the end of today…this would be over. Finally.

  33.

  Mikey

  We crept through the woods that led toward the entrance to the mines, calmness surrounding the group as we all concentrated on being as quiet as church mice and not drawing any attention to ourselves. There were stray deaders stumbling around the place, but someone always headed off and finished them before they’d had chance to gargle out their first “brains,” and on we pressed.

  Shooter and Aiken were leading together, though neither man seemed happy about that idea since they were both natural leaders and were used to being in charge, but there was no other way to do this since neither would concede power to the other. I was just damn happy that I was there at all and didn’t care who was supposedly in charge.