Frozen World (Book 2): Silo [Hope's Return]

by Falconer, Jay J.

  * * *

  Summer lifted Sergeant Barkley from the medical bed and lowered him to the floor, letting his legs touch gingerly. Once she was sure he could stand on his own, she let go and took three steps back, then bent down and slapped her hands against her knees. “Come here, boy. You can do it.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Liz asked.

  “Yeah, I need something to take my mind off all the crap going on,” Summer said, seeing flashes of Edison’s and Morse’s faces in her mind. “Besides, he needs to move around a little, like you said.”

  “I meant later, as in tonight or tomorrow.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s a lot stronger than you think. I saw what he can do when he wants to,” Summer said, turning her focus back to the dog. She slapped her hands again. “Come on, boy. Come here. Show Liz how strong you are.”

  Barkley looked at her and blinked, his face peppered with matted fur. He took a tentative step with one of his front paws, wobbling as he ventured forward, his other legs reacting in concert with the first.

  “That’s it. Keep going.”

  Barkley took another step. Again, it was filled with instability. Then he took another and another, each one a tad faster and more confident than the one before.

  “See, I told you,” Summer said to Liz. “Just needs to push through it, like we all have to.”

  “Okay, but take it slow,” Liz said. “He should drink some water and try to eat a little something, too.”

  “I’m sure the chef has something he can nibble on,” Summer said as Barkley arrived. She rubbed his neck, then gave him a hug, ignoring the stink that went along with it. His tail wasn’t wagging yet, but she figured that would happen eventually. He just needed to get his footing and find more strength.

  “If you decide to give him a bath, make sure the dressing stays dry. We don’t want an infection settling in.”

  “Okay, got it, Doc.”

  “And be careful around the kids. They might get a little too rough with him and we don’t know how he will react.”

  “That was my plan,” she said, leading him to the door that opened into the hallway.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Looks like a swarm of ants hit this place,” Krista said as they approached the myriad of tracks in the snow around the abandoned bus.

  There was no telling how many Scabs had made the tracks, especially since they looked to all be barefoot and about the same size, though there were a smattering of odd tracks, too—all of them flatter and deeper with an oversize big toe. She’d never seen that particular type of track before. Perhaps a pair of Scabs were purposely walking in each other’s steps, but for what purpose, she had no idea.

  Krista kept her rifle in a defensive position, aiming just short of Horton’s feet with her finger resting on the metal surrounding the trigger guard. “Wicks, you’re on point. Clear the bus.”

  Before the man could step forward, the bus doors rattled on their hinges and out came the Scab Girl.

  “Hold your fire!” Horton said, his arms out high.

  Helena scampered up the front bumper, then climbed onto the hood of the bus and scurried to the top of its roof.

  Krista was about to give her overwatch team the order to shoot, but instead held up a closed fist when the girl sat down cross-legged and put her hands up over her head.

  “She’s surrendering,” Horton said, looking at Krista. “Let me talk her down.”

  Krista gave him a nod, then tossed him a length of paracord to use as a restraint. “You get one chance to bring her in and she needs to be secured. That’s non-negotiable.”

  Horton didn’t hesitate, nodding and then taking steps in the Scab Girl’s direction. “Everything’s okay, Helena. They’re not going to hurt you, if you just hold still and let me come up there. Can I do that?”

  Helena grunted twice, indicating a yes.

  Horton glanced back at Krista for approval.

  Krista nodded. “No sudden moves, either of you.” She turned to Wicks. “Keep an eye on that bus. There could be more of them.”

  “Roger that, ma’am,” he said, swinging around to the right with his rifle in a firing position.

  Krista figured if there were any Scabs hiding in the bus, Horton would act as the bait. Expendable bait, giving them the needed sightlines to take out the threats. Horton included.

  Horton was now at the foot of the bus, not far from the double doors hanging open. He brought his head up to speak to Helena. “I know you’re worried, but they’re just doing their job. They’re not going to shoot as long as you do exactly what I say.”

  Helena’s gaze bounced between the rifles pointed at her, huffing as she moved her eyes from Wicks to Krista and back again.

  None of that was a surprise to Krista, who considered the cannibal more animal than human. When you’re trapped in a compromising crossfire position, your heart is going to race, regardless of what species you are, or what species you used to be. “Bring her down slow.”

  Horton took another step forward, his hand still carrying the paracord. “Okay, Helena, now you need to put your hands down slowly and keep them at your sides.”

  When she complied, he continued, walking to the front of the bus and taking position a foot away from the front fender well. “Now scoot toward me, but keep it slow and steady.”

  Helena hesitated, then grunted once, confirming what Krista already assumed—Horton couldn’t deliver. “Thirty seconds, Horton. Then we finish this.”

  “Just give me a minute,” he snarled back. “She’s frightened. Can’t you see? She’ll come in.”

  “Clock’s ticking. Twenty-five seconds.”

  “Please, Helena. Come down. You can trust me. It’s important. Please.”

  Helena’s face softened a moment later, her look of fright dissolving into something else.

  Krista wasn’t sure what to call the new wide-eyed expression or how to describe it, but it appeared as though the Scab Girl had just fallen in love with Horton. It didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t change the fact about what happened next.

  Helena pushed with her hands at the steel behind her, providing the momentum to slide down the windshield, then the side of the angled hood. She landed in the snow feet first, with her torso wrapped in Horton’s arms.

  “Secure her!” Krista said, not believing what she just witnessed.

  Helena spun toward the bus on her own and put her hands behind her back, allowing Horton to lash them together with the rope, using an over-under multi-knot technique.

  When Horton turned her to face Krista, he said, “I hope you believe me now. She was never going to attack. She surrendered, just like I said she would.”

  “You’re lucky she did.”

  “It’s not about luck. It’s about who she is and her predicament. You just need to get to know her a little first. She’s not like the others.”

  “Trust me. I know exactly who and what she is.”

  “No, you don’t. She’s just a frightened girl who’s out here all alone. She doesn’t know what’s going on or who to trust.”

  “That goes both ways, Horton. Maybe next time, she needs to not take off and make us hunt her down. She put everyone at risk. Her included.”

  “I’ll give you that, but look at it from her perspective.”

  “Compassion is not my job. Security is,” Krista said, giving Wicks a head nod, telling him to move forward and clear the bus.

  Wicks stepped forward, working his way up the steps of the bus and through the open doors. His rifle led the way, sweeping from side to side as he worked his way down the center aisle of the vehicle, checking each seat and crawl space underneath.

  When he made it to the rear of the bus, he punched out the nearest window and reported in a loud, clear voice, “Clear, boss. Nothing but junk everywhere. Looks like someone’s been living in here.”

  “Probably her. She must have been looking for something,” Horton said. “That’s why she came back. It’s the
only place she feels safe.”

  “Doesn’t matter why. The Scabs obviously know about this place,” Krista said, opening her canteen and taking a long drink of water. She closed the lid, then held her hand up and gave the rally command wave to her men on the ridge. “Let’s move out before they decide to double back.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “There he is,” Dice said to his boss from the driver’s seat of their truck, pointing at a trail of dust heading their way.

  The broken-down buildings on either side of what used to be the gateway to the Interstate cradled the billowing dust, keeping it trapped inside the brick-lined corridor that ran straight at them. “Looks like he made some changes since the last time we met.”

  “That’s an understatement, even for Craven,” Fletcher added.

  “I guess they had to eat the horses,” Dice said after a half-chuckle, counting a team of twenty Scabs with ropes around their necks, pulling Craven atop an old-fashioned covered wagon. “Scab power. The gift that keeps on giving.”

  Fletcher laughed. “So much for that trade last year.”

  “Where does he come up with these ideas?”

  “Who knows? But they always seem to work.”

  Dice knew the one-eyed scientist was eccentric, but using Scabs for horses was a new twist he never saw coming. “I get that he hates modern technology—”

  “Except when it suits him,” Fletcher said, popping the passenger door open with the handle and swinging it ajar. “Lucky for us, he feels that way.”

  Dice nodded. “Otherwise, things would be a whole lot different right about now.” He, too, opened his door, sliding past the steering wheel and planting his feet in the dirt.

  A flap of wind smacked into him from the side, kicking up dust that landed on his face. When it worked its way into his eyes, tears came next, lots of them, filling his vision with squiggly lines of blob and light. He turned his head and wiped the skin around his eyes with his sleeve, focusing more on the corners than the middle.

  He knew there would be more dust. It never stopped on days like today, but he couldn’t wait for his eyes to rid themselves of the irritant. He needed his sightlines clear for this meet. Especially with a herd of Scabs headed their way. “Maybe we should have brought the repellant?”

  “Agreed. Needs to be part of our standard load out from now on,” Fletcher said, pulling his sidearm and making sure a round was in the chamber of his semi-automatic. “Eventually, I’d like to see each man assigned a supply.”

  “If Craven ever gets us the rest,” Dice said, checking his pistol as well, seeing a .45 caliber bullet ready to be fired. He put it back in his holster, but kept his hand on the leather, just in case this meet wasn’t friendly like all those that came before.

  Fletcher was now out of the truck and had moved past his open door, taking a position next to the hood. “Next time, we expect the unexpected. Bring an extra team, too.”

  Dice agreed. “Seems like he’s getting worse all the time.”

  Fletcher advanced, his voice changing in tone to one of cynicism. “Like they say, the lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

  Dice also took a step forward, matching Fletcher’s new position next to the front bumper. “Actually, I think it’s more like the lights are flickering on and off, ready to set themselves on fire.”

  “Gotta love his ingenuity.”

  Dice agreed. “The man knows how to think outside the box.”

  “An insane box.”

  “Or a Scab box.”

  Fletcher nodded. “But his shit works.”

  “I’ll give him that.”

  “Just need to start taking precautions until his resourcefulness is no longer of use to us.”

  “You got it, boss,” Dice answered as Craven’s old-time convoy arrived after a wide swing around and pull in.

  “Well, hello there, ladies,” Craven said, dressed entirely in black, except for the red, white, and blue patch he wore over his right eye. “Miss me?”

  Fletcher pointed at the man’s covered eye. “Feeling a little patriotic, are we?”

  “Thought I’d go old school. You know, in a star-spangled banner sort of way,” Craven answered, turning his attention to Dice. “You getting taller?”

  “Not hardly,” Dice said, holding back the words he wanted to say about Craven getting crazier. “But thanks for asking.”

  Craven lifted his patch, giving Dice a clear view of the empty socket underneath. “Remember, boys and girls, don’t play with explosives when you’re shitfaced and feeling silly.”

  Dice laughed, even though he’d heard the same gag a dozen times before. No reason to upset the one-eyed pirate by not going along with his worn-out joke. “Good safety tip, Craven, though I don’t think that will ever be a problem.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “What do you mean?” Dice asked.

  “Lipton’s moonshine. One-eighty proof. Impressive.”

  “How did you hear about that?” Fletcher asked.

  “Oh, a little birdie told me,” Craven said, tying the leather leads controlling the Scab team to a curved hunk of metal under his seat. The man rose to his feet, then climbed to the ground, plopping his feet in the dirt.

  “Tired of horses?” Fletcher asked.

  “Actually, trying something new,” Craven replied, motioning to the team of Scabs standing in a loose huddle. “They eat less and pull almost as hard.”

  “Except it takes five times as many,” Dice said.

  “True, but got an endless supply. Almost.”

  Fletcher stepped forward and shook Craven’s hand. “Breeders working overtime, I take it?”

  “What’s left of them.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Seriously, if there’s something we should know about, now’s the time,” Fletcher said.

  “Got it under control, Fletch. Just a little setback, that’s all.” Craven yanked on his waistline, pulling up his sagging pants. “You guys wanted to meet, so let’s get on with it.”

  “It’s time for your services again,” Fletcher said.

  “How many?”

  “Couple hundred ought to do it.”

  “We’ll make sure the targets are easy marks,” Dice added. “Keep your losses down.”

  “When?”

  “Soon,” Fletcher said. “We’ll know more after we meet with our source and firm up our plans. Gotta make it all seem natural, though. That’ll be key. Dice will coordinate, since he will be leading the mission.”

  Craven raised one eyebrow, leaning back a bit on his hips. “It’s going to cost you boys.”

  Fletcher’s voice dropped in tone. “I figured as much. Name your price.”

  “Well, with the Trading Post out of commission, I’m going to need to boost the meat supply some other way.”

  “Damn it, I was right,” Dice said, shooting a look at Fletcher. “I figured that’s what happened to the horses.”

  “And the stragglers Heston didn’t want,” Fletcher added.

  Craven paused. “True on both counts. Some things can’t be helped, not when my army has to eat.”

  Dice couldn’t hold the words back. “Something other than themselves.”

  “You are correct, my red-haired friend. At some point though, that becomes counterproductive. In the end, it was a simple choice. Those fifteen-hundred-pound slabs of horse went a long way.”

  A memory of the Scab attack on the Trading Post flashed in Dice’s mind, filling his thoughts with images of blood and guts.

  Fletcher spoke next. “The indigent supply will resume again, once we get the Trading Post back up and running. Plus, you can keep whatever bounty remains from the new mission.”

  Craven paused before he spoke. “Assuming you’re able to make the targets easy marks, as you say.”

  “Won’t be a problem,” Fletcher replied.

  “At least you won’t have to deal with Heston a
nymore,” Dice said. “Acquisition will be a snap now. So will delivery.”

  Craven seemed to like those statements, his eyes perking up. “I take it things went well?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “And your boss?”

  “No longer an issue,” Fletcher said.

  “Edison took it in the shorts, too. Well, the neck actually, but you know what I mean,” Dice said.

  A thin smile grew on Craven’s lips. “Sounds like we’ve cleared the deck—precisely how you wanted it. Should be smooth sailing going forward.”

  “As long as your prices don’t skyrocket,” Dice said.

  “I think we can work something out. Just need to know when and where and I’ll take care of my end.”

  “As will we,” Dice said, turning his gaze to Fletcher.

  Fletcher continued. “Like I said before, as soon as our source comes through, we’ll let you know the details. After that, we’ll need a much bigger army in a day or two for Phase Two.”

  “Deal,” Craven said, shaking Fletcher’s hand again. “Though there is one thing.”

  “What?”

  “My most prized breeder.”

  “What happened?” Fletcher asked.

  “She escaped. You wouldn’t have happened to have seen her, would you? She’s this little blonde with crazy hair and a skanky body full of whip marks. Can’t miss her.”

  “No. Not that I recall,” Fletcher said before looking at Dice.

  Dice shrugged. “Haven’t seen her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Fletcher nodded. “Positive. I think we’d remember something like that.”

  “How’d she escape?” Dice asked.

  “Don’t know, but she’s not the first one.”

  Fletcher shook his head and threw out his hands. “You’ve lost others?”

  “Yep.”

  “How many?”

  “Seven.”

  “Will that change things?”

  “No. Got plenty more in the pipeline. Like I said, just a little setback.”

  “What do you need from us?”

  “If you find her, bring her back to me.”

  “Alive, I take it.”