Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Read online

  “Can’t you do something?” Zhar yelled.

  Ramani put a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “She heals the body; she cannot do anything to metal walls.”

  A bullet ricocheted off the cage in a shower of sparks.

  “Get down!” Rachel rolled onto her stomach. “Get the fuck down before you take a bullet.”

  They all complied, huddling close to the floor. Aya and Ramani clung to each other, trying not to scream. Zhar huddled by the door, waiting for the first fool to be stupid enough to open it. A shaft of light pierced the dark factory, within which a shadow of a staggering raider slid into view. It lengthened past the edge of one of the ancient machines. The wobble in the gait coupled with raspy moaning gave away his injury and need for help.

  Althea stared as the silhouette on the floor stretched. Resigning herself to captivity, her gaze fell into her lap. A thin strip of flannel draped over her wrist, catching her eye. Inspired, she tore the scrap of red cloth from the bedding and scurried over to one of the metal shelves. With her back against it, she put her hands behind her around the pole and wound the material about her wrists as if bound in place.

  Ramani could not believe her eyes. “She’s doing it!”

  “Nice,” Zhar whispered.

  “Good girl,” rasped Rachel.

  A bleeding man lurched around the end of the giant machine, clutching it to keep from collapsing. He swayed in place for a moment, gazing into space. Tattered, bloody, and weaponless, he spotted Althea and shambled over. When she didn’t get up and come to the door, he banged his fist on the grating.

  “Oi. Need ‘elp.” Blood dribbled out of his mouth.

  She wriggled, pretending to tied. “I can’t reach you. You have to come inside. I need to touch you to make the hurt go away.”

  He glanced at the post, taking the key and fumbling with it at the door.

  Althea made a show of tugging at her supposedly tied wrists. “No, not that key. Vakkar wears it around his neck.”

  A distant explosion knocked shards of glass from the windows.

  He flung it over his shoulder. Zhar jumped and pressed herself to the cage, her gaze locked upon the flying glimmer of metal as it bounced along the concrete and vanished under a pile of silver tanks. The other three all screamed “No!” in unison as the key disappeared. Rachel added some other words.

  Althea hated lying to this man, making him hurt longer than he had to; but she could not let these women die. As he searched Vakkar for the key, she pondered if it was just for a bad person to suffer a little longer for the sake of four innocent lives. When the raider stuffed his hand into the armor, she drew in a breath with rapt anticipation. After a terrible long minute of rooting around, he held up a bloody key and stumbled to the door. The metal thing scratched at the lock plate. All of a sudden, he stopped and looked at her with a squint of distrust.

  She wriggled and whined, fighting her fake bindings, reached at him with her foot. “I gotta touch you. Please! Don’t make me watch you die, too.”

  The wounded man stared at her a while longer before the strength seemed to fade from him. Out of time, he opened the lock and the door swung wide. He swooned in and grabbed her hovering leg about the ankle.

  “There. Touchin. ‘Elp.” He fell to his knees.

  Smiling, she leaned forward and put her hands on either side of his face. “Sleep.”

  “Oi wha―” His eyes fluttered closed and she guided him to the ground.

  When she set to the task of healing him, the women all yelled at her. She did not care if there was little time. She was not going to leave him hurt, especially after lying to him.

  Once she mended him, she darted out and locked the door. A look at the empty peg upon the post stopped her heart.

  “The key’s over there!” Zhar pointed. “By the propane tank.”

  “What’s a propane tank?”

  Zhar growled. “Fucking dumb Scrag. The round silver things.”

  Althea glared, reaching into her mind to understand the meaning. “I’m not dumb.”

  The entire factory rocked with a thunderous boom, the building shuddering from the impact of a vehicle somewhere along the outer wall. A torrent of dust fell from the rafters. Althea ran to a stack of old silver tanks that matched Zhar’s thoughts, and got down on all fours to peer under them. The key glinted in the dark, just out of reach where it had bounced. She grunted, trying to force her arm deeper under the pile. With her head turned, she had to work by feel, and thought the tip of her finger brushed the key.

  She shot a pouting look at the harem. “I can’t reach it.”

  “Do something!” yelled Zhar.

  Ramani burst into sobbing.

  Althea flattened herself to the floor as more shots clanked and sparked off the ancient machines overhead. The key defied her, too far from the edge to reach. Her wish for longer arms gave her an idea, and she stuck her leg into the gap. After planting a toe on the key, she edged it close enough to grab with her hand on the next try.

  The women crowded around the door as Althea carried the tiny chip of metal over; such a small thing that meant so much right now. The opening door almost knocked her over from the strength of Zhar’s desire to be free. The redhead ran straight for Vakkar’s pistol, bare feet slipping in the blood. She fell on him, tearing at his gear.

  “Search him for keys,” Rachel shouted, rattling the cuffs.

  Zhar had just managed to get her balance and grab the gun when a wicked explosion reduced a man-sized door at the far end of the factory to metal shreds.

  “No time.” Zhar hooked Rachel’s arm and hauled her away from the flaming door towards the truck ports at the rear.

  The detonation had sent Ramani into a ball under the shelves back in the security cage; Althea took her by the hand, dragging the shell-shocked captive away from certain death.

  Chattering automatic fire came between screams and charging engines. Running past long-dead forklifts and roll doors, Zhar led the group towards the rear exit. Most of the fighting was on the front side, in the main yard. Behind the building, two decaying semi-trailers were well advanced in the slow process of rejoining the Earth. Zhar looked around at the great wall of corrugated steel, concrete, and barbed wire erected around the compound. The path to escape led through a hundred and a half men, or what remained thereof―shooting at each other.

  “Shit!”

  “This way!” Althea called out, running to the edge of the loading dock and leaping to the ground.

  Ramani followed without hesitation, as did Aya. Rachel stopped at the edge, casting an uneasy stare at the ground. After one more annoyed twist at her handcuffs, she jumped down, landing in an ungainly stumble. Zhar lingered, annoyed by the usurpation of her authority by a twelve-year-old.

  Althea ran backwards for three steps so she could make eye contact. “Zhar, please…”

  Shaking her head, the redhead climbed down and caught up. Ahead of clattering collars and scattering curse words, Althea ran across the tarmac and vaulted into the drainage ditch with a splash. Aya and Ramani supported Rachel’s arms as she navigated the uneven dirt. Zhar jumped right in.

  The water varied in depth, sending a paralyzing chill through Althea’s body as it rose up over her waist. If not for the gunfire behind them, she sensed Ramani might have enjoyed the cool bath. Down here, they had the protection of earth between them and stray bullets. Althea went right for the pipe she remembered seeing during the arena matches. A hundred and change yards to the end of the ditch and around a corner to the left, they trudged through muddy water as the sound of war filled the air. Althea climbed into the corrugated metal tube and waved at the others to follow. It was tall enough for her to run at a slight stoop, but the others had to crawl. Rachel managed a clumsy knee-walk, which left her cursing each time her shins found rocks.

  Althea held her hands to the sides for balance as she skidded through the occasional patch of semidry mud, wondering what the distant blur of hot sand would off
er them.

  lthea was first to step onto the hot dirt at the bottom of the shaft. Miles of open space led off in every direction except backwards, and with it came the fear of the unknown. Captivity provided a sense of order as well as some degree of safety, but now Althea was bereft of both. She backed up, watching the mud-covered women emerge from the pipe before glancing up at the sun, weak in the western sky. With a hand held over her eyes, she squinted at the sparse clouds. The sound of Rachel falling on her ass made her look.

  Althea peered up again. “It will be dark soon.”

  Zhar helped Rachel to her feet.

  “Hey, Zhar.” Rachel turned her back and pulled her arms as far apart as she could. “Shoot the chain out.”

  Zhar shook her head. “Not worth the bullet, and it will make noise… attract danger.”

  “What?” Rachel’s voice began as a shout but sank to a whisper. “Y… You can’t just leave me like this! Two damn months, Zhar. Two months! I can’t take it anymore.”

  “We can make it to my home in about four days. We have tools there that can get you free. A few more days won’t hurt.”

  Rachel glared. “You’re not the one fuckin’ stuck like this. Couldn’t take two god damned minutes to search him for the k―”

  A distant explosion silenced her as it rumbled through the ground.

  Zhar glanced at the compound, then to Rachel. “You rather be chained or dead?”

  Rachel had to think about it.

  “Please stop yelling and let’s get out of here!” Ramani bounded forward like a scared deer.

  The fighting at the factory still raged; the sound as well as the danger somewhat muted by the distance. After looking around in a spin, Zhar picked a direction and led the group through the scrubland. For some time, only the rattling of steel collars, the occasional nervous whimper from Aya, and Rachel’s sub vocal grumbles at her situation broke the silence.

  Sun-fire danced over the large pistol Zhar carried like a mark of authority, as if it made her their leader. In a way it did; the ability to kill any of them instantly provided a strong motivator to follow orders. Althea made up her mind; she would command Zhar not to hurt anyone if she had to.

  The sun slid without ceremony into the hazy mountains in the west, and Zhar stopped walking. Citing the darkness as a reason to take a break, she waved the pistol at the ground. Aya was first to sit where she was pointed, followed a few seconds later by Ramani. Rachel glared for a moment, but gave in. Althea knelt close to Rachel.

  Zhar paced around them, studying their surroundings. “Aya, you take first watch. In two hours, wake up Ramani. Ramani, you watch for two hours and wake me up.”

  “I can see in the dark,” Althea said. “I should watch when it is darkest.”

  “No way, kid.” Zhar shook her head. “Those eyes of yours will attract death like moths to candles. Stay down, and keep them closed.”

  Althea sulked and kneaded the soreness out of Rachel’s arms. Everyone was thirsty but there was no water. The night would get colder, and they had no protection from it aside from each other, and clung in a pile for warmth.

  Althea tucked up to Rachel, whispering for a while about what the world was like in her time, where people called police would never let raiders exist. This world sounded like stories made up to help children feel safe in their beds. Eventually, exhaustion guided Rachel off to sleep and Althea felt the tug of sleep at her eyelids.

  The shadows of the sinking day elongated over the entwined mass of women, and darkness took the land.

  “Help!” A plaintive whisper grew louder over several repetitions until it woke everyone.

  Althea rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and felt the warmth of daytime around her. To her left, Rachel lay rigid, staring at a black scorpion the size of a man’s forearm moving with a tentative creep onto her stomach from her thigh. Its pincers poised not quite closed, and the tail barb swayed like a snake charmer’s pet. Its presence had even stalled the perpetual war between Rachel’s arms and the steel around them. Aya’s casual morning stretch stopped with statue stillness when she saw it, and Ramani scampered backwards.

  “Get it off me!” Rachel whispered. A trickle of blood ran from both of her wrists as she strained.

  Althea crawled over and stared at the scorpion. “Hello.”

  Primitive territorial anger wafted from the creature. She wrapped her mind around the emotion and forced calm over it. Its pincers closed, empty. Althea stooped and eased her hands under it, plucking it off Rachel’s belly. As soon as it no longer touched her, the woman rolled away, shivering.

  “Hey there. We’re sorry we bothered your home. We won’t be staying long.” Althea swiveled it around to look at its face, radiating trust and peace.

  The tail relaxed. She carried it a few paces away and set it down, whispering soothing, meaningless sounds. A moment later, it scurried off into the sand. Ramani knelt, bowing at Althea and muttering. Rachel still had not taken a breath until a nearby gunshot shocked air into her lungs.

  Aya and Ramani flattened on the dirt, trying not to scream. Rachel tried to spring up in a combat pose, but wound up on her face. Althea crouched with feral readiness, staring in the direction of the sound. Half a minute later, Zhar arrived with a dead animal that resembled a huge prairie dog. After skinning it with her hands, she tore off hunks of meat and passed them out.

  Althea ate without hesitation, as did Zhar and Aya. It took Ramani awhile longer to get the raw meat down, but Rachel just stared at it. Althea held some up so she could bite, and eventually hunger overcame her disgust.

  “I was wrong.” She cringed after swallowing the first mouthful. “I didn’t think this nightmare could get any worse.”

  “At least the kid kept Vakkar off you.” Zhar smirked.

  Althea frowned, feeling guilty the raiders had not abducted her soon enough to spare the redhead Vakkar’s touch as well.

  Rachel made sad eyes at Zhar. “Hey… you shot the dog. Please get me out of these damn cuffs?”

  “We have to eat. Food is needed, comfort isn’t.”

  “Comfort? Comfort!” Rachel struggled to her feet and stepped up on Zhar. “Are you fucking kidding me? We could get attacked at any time out here and in case you haven’t noticed we’re all butt-ass naked, and I’m helpless.”

  “Get your tits out of my face.” Zhar’s hand flexed on the pistol grip.

  Althea darted over and took Zhar’s wrist with both hands, shaking her head. “No, don’t. Don’t be mad at her ‘cause I stopped him from wifeing her. Be mad at me for not being kidnapped sooner.”

  Zhar broke her gaze from Rachel to sigh down at the girl. “Pathetic. I don’t understand why you can make people do whatever you want, but you just let them piss on you.”

  Althea stared down, watching several dark spots form around her toes from fallen tears.

  The cuffs rattled. Rachel might have just punched Zhar if she were able to.

  “You shot. Things will have heard. We should move.” Althea did not look up as she muttered.

  The tension fizzled out; a lingering glare between the two women broke as Zhar paced off. Althea fell in step at Rachel’s side, mending the cuts caused by her scorpion-fear. Rachel tried a few times to awkwardly pat, hug, and console the child who still wore a pout from what Zhar had said to her.

  Some hours later, they stopped at a small rain-puddle and drank. It tasted like dirt, but was a wonderful relief from thirst nonetheless. Althea cupped her hands together, lifting water to Rachel’s lips. Sitting around on this break, she sensed Zhar’s impatience, Ramani’s embarrassment, and Aya’s worry about what her new owners would be like. Rachel had abandoned shame at this point to focus on anger.

  Zhar stood on her tiptoes, staring at the horizon and the sun before waving everyone to their feet. Her pale skin had turned bright red; burned from a day in the desert. Althea approached and put a hand on her arm, concentrating on mending the damage. Pain and redness faded, earning a brief smile. Wit
h Zhar striding off in the lead, Althea fell in step alongside Rachel again, holding her hand and keeping her spirits up with an unending stream of consoling words and smiles. Rachel cried in silence at the sight of several disused roads; the reality of this world hit her at last.

  A walk through wind-driven sand took most of the morning. Zhar came to a halt and squatted by what appeared to be tire tracks, examining the ground. The others waited in silence as she poked at something embedded in the dirt. The breeze threw her hair into a fiery dance over her alabaster back as she scratched at the sand. A moment later, she held up a spent cartridge.

  “Looks like 7.62,” Rachel muttered, wandering closer. “Guess we’re not that far in the future after all.”

  “Look,” said Althea, rising on tiptoe and pointing at a dark spot in the distance.

  Zhar stood, discarding the brass, and followed the tire tracks. They ended about a hundred yards later, where a raider buggy lay crumpled and abandoned against a massive boulder. Riddled with bullets, the vehicle seemed quite far from operable, and no trace of its former driver remained. A gore-caked skeleton hung from the roll cage by a pair of handcuffs, the rusting collar about its neck a badge of its former station. Long hair clung to a rotten patch of leathery scalp that fell down onto its back. Flies buzzed about and tooth marks on the bones of the wrist hinted that whoever it was had survived the crash but remained trapped. Althea wondered if they had died before or after being eaten.

  Rachel squeezed her hand at the sight. “Don’t look, baby.”

  Zhar crawled over the wreck, searching for anything of use, and returned with two crude spears. Each was made from a length of metal as big around as a straightened crowbar, tipped with a flange ground down to be sharp along both its straight and angled edges.