Dark Days of the After (Book 5): Dark Days of the Purge

by Schow, Ryan

  “I am the gun,” Skylar thought she heard Felicity say.

  “Yes,” Clay replied, proud.

  Cooper was sniffing around the perimeter of the property, lifting his leg to pee every so often, one little squirt after another putting him at ease in his time of loss and displacement. Orbey watched the German Shepherd intently, but there wasn’t anything lively in those eyes of hers. She was every bit as tortured as Felicity. Skylar wondered what her aunt was thinking, which memories were holding her in such an unrestrained grip.

  Felicity straightened up, wiped her eyes and strengthened her resolve. “Give me a second,” she said.

  Taking a shaky breath, the twenty-two year old put one foot in front of the other and started for the house, walking not in the front door like Skylar expected, but around the back and out of sight.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Skylar asked Clay.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It just takes time.”

  “I’ve been through some hairy moments before, but what she went through”—Skylar said, shaking her head at the thought of the girl’s parents—“I don’t think I’d bounce back from that anytime soon.”

  Logan was standing with Harper, the two of them close together. He pulled Harper into a hug, causing Skylar to look away, to find her own man. But Ryker was talking to Longwei and the guys, not even looking her way. She glanced back to Harper and Logan, then pulled her gaze away, focusing instead on the man before her: Clay, the former soldier with all the scars.

  “She’s got a big spirit,” Clay said of Felicity. Looking at her, almost like he didn’t want to say so at first, he thought twice then said, “She idolizes you, you know.”

  “Me?” Skylar asked, staggered.

  “You and Harper.”

  “Why?”

  Clay laughed and said, “Have you not seen yourselves?”

  Skylar was trying to make heads or tails of what he was saying. Before she could even formulate a response, Logan was right beside her saying, “You’re capable and scary.”

  “Very scary,” Boone said, Rowdy still asleep in his arms.

  Had everyone been eavesdropping on them? Skylar found herself smiling uncomfortably.

  “Give me a break,” she said, looking between them thinking they couldn’t be serious. By the looks of them, however, they were serious indeed.

  Turning her attention to Rowdy, she ran a clean palm over his delicate head, felt his soft skin on hers, wondered how she could have ever been that small. Skylar knew her fighting spirit was strong, but she had failed Five Falls, and before that, she’d been captured back in California, imprisoned, beat up, and abused. If that was the definition of capable and scary, then yeah, she thought cynically, she fit the bill.

  Cooper trotted up to them, moving between the bodies, sniffing upwards, his tail wagging. Orbey smiled and joined them, but her sadness was as palpable as Felicity’s, as her own. Skylar missed Connor every waking second of the day and night. Orbey must be dying inside.

  “Hey,” Logan said, pointing to Felicity’s front door. It opened and Felicity was waving them in. He turned to Longwei and said, “Let’s go, guys.”

  The group closed in on the front porch, heading straight for Felicity. She looked stricken, her grief barely at bay. She stepped out on the porch, let everyone in and said, “Make yourselves at home,” as they passed her.

  Clay walked up to her, and though he was taller than her, he didn’t look down on her. She stood tall enough on her own, despite the chaos of emotion inside her. She was holding back hard, on the edge of something big—tears, a breakdown, the need to run away? He cupped her cheek, smiled and said, “One minute at a time.”

  She nodded, covered his hand with hers and said nothing. Finally she turned away, went inside and joined the others. Skylar watched all this happen in a matter of seconds and wondered what that tenderness felt like.

  Orbey walked past her, trailed a hand across her back. She smiled at Skylar as she walked by; Skylar returned the gesture, broken hearted nevertheless. Neither Ryker nor Logan were compassionate men. But the hard-edged warrior who nearly lost his ability to feel emotion was suddenly overflowing with compassion for Felicity, doing for her what no one had ever done for Skylar. What no one could ever really do for her.

  “This is my bedroom,” Felicity said as they toured the rather large home. “I sleep in here. Only me.”

  Everyone seemed to understand. When they were done inside, they walked out back where the property stretched out several long and wide acres. Longwei’s guys wanted to set a perimeter, and they didn’t mind sleeping in the forest alone. The idea was that if one of them were attacked, the other two would be close enough to react quickly, and with stealth. This made sense. If they were all together, they’d make for an easy target.

  Longwei said he’d stay inside if no one objected. None of the crew voiced any concern. Others said they’d sleep on the couches and on the floors. Predictably, no one wanted to take the master bedroom out of respect for Felicity’s parents.

  In spite of that, Felicity said, “Someone take my parent’s bedroom, otherwise we’re just wasting prime real estate.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Boone asked her. She looked up at Clay’s younger brother and nodded.

  Skylar didn’t think anyone else would have asked her that question, but Boone was still trying to manage his own loss, and this made him sensitive to Felicity’s emotions.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding, but not looking at anyone. “Best to just jump into this healing thing with both feet, right?” She said this as she looked up, hesitant, sad, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  “It’s a start,” Boone said, his softening features touching, encouraging.

  She turned and Clay was there, something more than sympathy in his eyes. Skylar knew the look; she glanced at Harper, who was seeing the same thing. Harper leaned over and whispered into Skylar’s ear, “I already told them they liked each other, that they just haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “I think they’re figuring it out,” Skylar whispered back.

  “Where would you like me to sleep?” Clay asked softly. They’d been sleeping in his bed back in Five Falls together, according to Stephani. Skylar wasn’t sure if it was true, but Stephani wasn’t one for tall tales or exaggerations.

  “I want you to sleep with me,” Felicity said, lowering her head and her voice.

  Skylar smiled. So it was true.

  “Told you,” Harper said.

  “We need to find a second house, something bigger,” Logan said. “Because everyone being spread out all over the place makes me feel vulnerable.”

  “I’ll get on it,” Ryker agreed. “I just want to sleep on the couch in return.”

  “I’m not sleeping alone,” Skylar said without thinking.

  “Then come with me,” Ryker said.

  Barde said, “I’d like to go, too. Maybe bring Jin and Ning with me.”

  “I’m staying here,” Jin quickly said.

  “I’ll go,” Ning offered up. “I don’t like this house anyway.”

  “Smell too Mexican to you?” Barde asked under his breath. “Because Felicity isn’t white, nor were her parents from what I can tell.”

  “It’s not that,” Ning said.

  “Then what is it?” Skylar asked, brow furrowed.

  “The décor is off,” he said.

  “This is Oregon,” Felicity replied. “This is most people’s décor.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Ning explained. “I think maybe I just want my own bed. Because the last time I slept on a floor was never.”

  “We’ll find you a nice crib,” Barde teased, wasting no time diffusing the situation with a short guy joke, even though Jin was shorter than Ning. “Or maybe we’ll find a pack ‘n play, something with thicker padding and some blankies.”

  Ning’s face turned red but he smiled anyway.

  “He’s what we call an accidental racist,” Longw
ei explained to Felicity. “He comes from Chinese parents who allowed him to speak his mind, but kept him on a tight leash when it came to exposing him to different cultures.”

  “I don’t mean any disrespect,” Ning said in his own defense. “I don’t like white people either, if that helps.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Skylar interrupted, “why doesn’t everyone get settled in, maybe see if there’s any food or water around. In the mean time, the four of us will see if we can find an alternative home, food and other supplies, something useful. Gas, maybe. We shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours at most.”

  “If you’re back in time, we’ll have enough daylight to get over to Fick Ranch,” Felicity said, still distant, flashes of life returning to her eyes. Felicity was taking on a huge emotional burden being back home, but at least she wasn’t alone with her memories and the ghosts that plagued them.

  “Then what?” Clay asked. “And what is the Fick Ranch?”

  “That’s the guys I was telling you about,” Felicity said. “The Ficks. Delmont and his two degenerate sons, Sludge and Blane. They have a large property with a crappy house and a decent size workshop. We called it Fick Waste and Disposal when we were growing up, but they called it the Fick Ranch, on account of them being able to do what they wanted on it without the cops sniffing around.”

  “It’s best you get going,” Boone said. “Also, I’ll sleep in the upstairs loft, if that’s okay with everyone.”

  “No, take the room next to Longwei, in case Rowdy starts to cry in the middle of the night,” Felicity said. “There’s an echo up there, but down here you should be fine.”

  Skylar watched Felicity taking charge and it felt good. She’d kicked the girl out of the meeting back at the barn in Five Falls to see what she’d do. She was disappointed when Felicity left. Skylar was hoping she would have stood up for herself better under pressure, but she’d bucked pretty easily. Now she was coming around. All this was a lot for her, Skylar knew, but the best warriors were forged in the flames of the hottest fires, and able to withstand impossible pressures. She’d written the girl off, but perhaps she’d jumped the gun.

  “Felicity,” Skylar said. “Are you ready for the Ficks?”

  A sudden burst of life roared back into her eyes and the girl said, “Yeah, but the Fickfaces aren’t ready for me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After a couple of hours of combing the neighborhoods, and after breaking into a few choice homes, Skylar, Ryker, Barde and Jin returned with good news. They’d found a second location. They’d also managed to scrounge up some canned food, a few jugs of water and some bleach for water purification. Out back, Ning was using a hatchet to chop a log into kindling-sized sticks. People were watching over him like adults watched toddlers near fire.

  “I’m not sure it’s safe having him doing that,” Barde said.

  “He’ll be okay,” Logan replied. “I watched him for signs of underdeveloped coordination. I’m pretty sure he won’t cut off any fingers. Besides, he wanted to help.”

  “After you guys go to the Fick place for gas,” Jin said, “we can go hunting tonight. See if there’s something we can track down and eat.”

  “Jin likes his meat,” Barde told Logan. “That okay with you? About us hunting?”

  Skylar jumped in and said, “I’m going with Felicity anyway, so I’ll ask her, but I can pretty much tell you she won’t have a problem with it.”

  “Who else is going?” Barde asked.

  “Logan, Ryker and Clay,” Skylar said, “unless anyone else wants to come…”

  No one spoke up.

  “Alright then,” she said as Felicity returned. To her, Skylar said, “Felicity, time to lead the way.”

  “We’re just going to waltz right in there and ask for their gas?” Felicity asked about the Fick Ranch, almost like she was confused. “We’re not going to offer any payment of any sort? Or do any bartering?”

  Skylar had plans that were very different than fair trade, plans she didn’t want to reveal right away. But she did anyway. Withdrawing her pistol, making a show if it, she said, “We’re going to ask nicely, and then we’re not going to ask at all.”

  Felicity bit back a nervous grin. “Dad always kept spare gas cans in the garage,” she said, changing subjects.

  That said, they gathered up twenty gallons worth of jugs, made sure they were properly armed and ready to go, and then jumped in the Blazer and one of the Jeeps. When Felicity showed them on a map where the Fick Ranch was, Logan commented on how it wasn’t that far away.

  “We’re already near the outskirts of town,” Felicity said. “They’re just a bit farther out.”

  They made the short drive, right into the mouth of redneck hell. Logan drove the Blazer while Felicity rode shotgun and Skylar was in the back seat. Clay and Ryker followed them in the Chicom Jeep, Clay at the wheel, Ryker with the guns.

  After a few turns here and there, Felicity pointed to a ramshackle abode set back off the street a good hundred yards and said, “That’s the house.”

  The minute they started down the long dirt driveway, Skylar knew for certain the Ficks were going to be a problem. They had two Rottweilers on leashes, both of them looking pissy and neglected. They were barking up a storm. They were also fighting the chains on their necks and trying to tear the chain stakes out of the ground with their mouths. Off to the side was a rundown dog house either of one them could tear apart with their teeth on a hot day.

  “They’ll know we’re here now,” Felicity said, referring to the barking dogs. As if on cue, the front door opened and three men poured out onto the porch, each one of them armed.

  “This isn’t any kind of a ranch,” Logan said looking around. “It’s a glorified landfill.”

  The lands surrounding the property were lush and beautiful, but the Fick property was a scab on the face of a Hollywood starlet. The dirt was ugly and dry, and there were brownish weeds everywhere. Almost like God gave less than a full shit about these people or the spot of earth they called home. There was a rusted propane tank on the side of the house and a route of staked homemade signs that said, “Shitter Line,” which Skylar assumed was their septic system. Broken down cars and car parts were everywhere, all of them rusted, a few of them half-covered in plastic canvases secured by tarp lines and big rocks.

  “I wouldn’t imprison the Chicoms in that dump,” Skylar grumbled. “It looks like it should be condemned.”

  “After their mother committed suicide over a pot of stew,” Felicity said, “everything went down hill for the three of them.”

  “She killed herself over a pot of stew?” Skylar asked. “Literally or figuratively?”

  “Literally,” she said. “Sludge and Blane were always arguing, and Delmont’s always been a drinker. We all just assumed she snapped. One minute she’s making squirrel stew and the next thing anyone knows, she’s leaning over the boiling pot, pressing a snub-nosed pistol into the back of her head and pulling the trigger.”

  “So she ruined the stew on the way out?” Logan asked.

  “She was a bitter woman,” Felicity said. “If you knew her, and them, you’d think they were adopted, rounded up from some detention facility for criminals and delinquents.”

  As they drove slowly onto the property, the boys leveled their guns on the three men, the dogs still yapping up a storm. Logan extended a hand out of the window and waved. Through the dusty windshield, Skylar thought she saw confusion in Delmont’s eyes. He hadn’t raised his shotgun yet, so that was a good sign. Then she saw the boys up close and wow...not a good sign, unless you were hunting for inbreeders.

  “Good God,” she heard herself say from the backseat. “Some people just shouldn’t make babies.”

  “Yeah, they were always the ugliest kids in school,” Felicity said as Logan put the SUV in park, opened the door and loudly announced, “We come as friends.”

  “Liar,” Skylar grumbled, her heart rate already kicking up a notch as she craw
led out of the big SUV.

  “Just take it easy and let us see your hands!” the youngest said.

  Sludge.

  He looked like a Sludge. Face thick with skin, a droopy pull from the weight of it, messy hair and a downward sloping mouth. His was the look of a kid who was born to sisters impregnated by their brothers, a true cautionary tale about incestual love affairs.

  When Felicity and Skylar got out of the Blazer, all eyes widened and not one of those mother Fickers so much as blinked. It was like they’d never seen a woman before. And Blane? The second he put his eyes on Skylar’s chest, he couldn’t seem to take them off. Surprisingly, Delmont stepped up to the plate to rectify things in the manners department.

  “Put your eyes back in your head, boys,” Delmont Fick said, before he turned those same needy eyes on her.

  You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought.

  Blane stepped off the porch, shotgun up and now leveled on Ryker and Clay. “We got us some biggun’s, Daddy,” the kid said.

  Blane looked like he was Felicity’s age, and normal compared to Sludge. In other words not an obvious product of incest. He was right about Ryker and Clay—they were big men. But where Blane was wrong was that he assumed they were the only threats. They were not. Skylar lowered her head, narrowed her eyes, let a sly grin creep onto her face as she and Delmont traded stares.

  “Who the hell are you, sugar lips?” Delmont asked just loud enough for her and Felicity to hear.

  “Friends, for now,” she sneered. “What happens to that relationship is up to you.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he purred.

  Skylar turned her gaze on Sludge. The kid couldn’t stop staring. It was eerie, like he was suffering from some sort of developmental disability, the kind that made him oblivious to social intelligence or awareness.