Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (15 page)

God, no! Anything but that. She couldn’t do this. But what were her options? Return to being tribute? She had to think of her babies.

She had to think of a way out of this.

“Head Provider, I——” The blaring of the horn drowned out her words. Probably a good thing. She had no idea what words could help her escape the ‘honor’.

North slanted a glance at them as Marshall pushed Belle into the cluster of ‘Viders. For once, they didn’t grope her. Instead the four men and two women shifted aside to make room. Body armor clanked together. Heart racing, Belle slid through the odor of sweat and death into an opening near North. Tension bound her shoulders tight. Darkness tinged her vision and she remembered to breathe.

He clucked her under the chin and forced her gaze to meet his.

“I am supposed to choose the communal meal.” Bitterness flooded her mouth and her voice cracked on the last word. She’d experienced the welcoming ceremony only once——when she had been the tribute. Clammy sweat trickled from her hairline. She hadn’t been able to stomach it again.

Especially when her parents and brother had been part of it.

North’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead before crashing down. Spearing Marshall with a glance, his green eyes darkened and whispered for Belle’s ears only. “Do not pick the first male to speak. He will be the Lesson.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The Lesson. Young Jeremy Taylor had been the lesson for her group of Tributes. She trembled. He’d tried to stop North from taking her. North’s warm hand wrapped around hers before he squeezed. Pain rocketed up her arm, clanged warning bells inside her head.

He eased closer and stared down at her. “Pick a male, young and strong. Prime meat.”

Prime meat. She raised her hand to her throat and was surprised she couldn’t feel the wad of sorrow lodged there. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t walk among the strangers and chose one to die. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

North tightened his grip.

Her fingers went numb.

“To refuse would be an insult.”

And insulting the Head Provider was punishable by death. Belle knew it wouldn’t be hers. It would be her new baby, John. Named after her father. She inhaled a shaky breath. “Male. Young. Prime...”

She wouldn’t say meat.

He nodded and stepped back.

The group had reached the camp. The newcomers had stopped to look around. She remembered it all. Dusty, worn tents. A slops ditch a hundred feet away. Crude cooking fires. This wasn’t the famed Dark Hope; this was worse than what she’d left behind.

Their jaws slacked, and hope drained away. If only that was the worst they faced. And then she heard it.

“Is this our new home, Mama?”

Belle wanted to turn away but couldn’t. Mama. A child. Children were the first to be selected——better than prime cuts, they were a delicacy.

The little boy clung to his mother’s hand, bounced eagerly at her side.

“I don’t know child.” Wearing a worn blue jumpsuit, she pushed her long, black hair out of her face.

Women and older girls would go in the next round, if they were selected for breeding. Those men not used for the Lesson would be penned up, forced to wait with the unchosen women for the time until they, too, became dinner.

To Belle’s surprise, none of the ‘Viders rushed forward to steal their meager belongings, strip them of their clothes then take away their dignity.

The three ‘Viders in the front kept their hands on their knives; their eyes darted back and forth. Instead of the usual cocky swagger, each stepped carefully as if conserving their strength.

North stiffened at her side. “Something is wrong.”

Metal sighed as the six members of the jury drew their weapons. Other ‘Viders down the line repeated the action. Young ones were shoved behind adults. Seasoned female tributes scuttled deeper into the camp.

Marshall stood tall and didn’t reach for her weapons.

Ann remained at the front. She waved her arm and pointed to the newcomers.

North set his hand on her hip. “Stay behind me.”

The way he was acting... The hair on Belle’s neck stood on end. No. It wasn’t possible. She dreamed about someone attacking the camp, prayed for it to happen over the years. But not once had it occurred. No one had ever tried.

“The girls. John.” She gasped. "Nattie had taken them away so they wouldn’t witness the ceremony."

He raised his scythe. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Where?”

"The ridge." She slapped her hand over her mouth to stop from screaming. Why had she let them out of her sight? They were so young, vulnerable.

“She’ll be able to protect them until we get there.”

Nattie? Crazy only shielded her from the ‘Viders because they thought it was catching. Who knew what their enemies would think.

One of the lead ‘Viders broke away from the group and jogged toward Marshall.

Belle shifted a little closer to North. Hatred whipped through her. ‘Viders were cruel and brutal, but only a few, like Titan, enjoyed inflicting pain and dreamed up new ways to do it.

Nattie had stopped treating his tributes years ago. She’d claimed a quick death was the best mercy.

After witnessing one of Titan’s lessons, Belle had agreed. Unfortunately, the man was also North’s cousin and was appointed to train her sons in the Warrior Way.

Thumping his fist against his chest, Titan focused solely on the Head Provider. “We were attacked by raiders.”

Raiders? But the ‘Viders had kept the tribute. Cold slipped down Belle’s spine.

Marshall’s lips twitched. “How many tributes were lost?”

Belle thought she caught a smile before it fell away.

“One.” Titan pulled a blond scalp from his belt and threw it at Belle’s feet.

Belle stepped back before it hit her bare feet. Why would he offer her the hair? She was North’s tribute, only required to weave his shirts, do his bidding. And North didn’t share, even when Titan had offered all he possessed.

North hissed beside her.

Marshall did smile then. “My brave ‘Viders have killed the raiders at last.”

Belle held her tongue. She didn’t want the raiders dead; they saved people from this...

Titan cleared his throat. “No. Two of our youngest ‘Viders decided to practice their skills away from the camp. Away from my watchful eye.” He pulled a broken arrow from his belt. It wobbled on his bloody palm when he offered it to her. “The raiders took the opportunity to kill them.”

She was missing something here. Something important. But she didn’t know what.

“No!” North roared before storming toward the group.

What? What happened? Belle chased after him. Her body grew heavy with each step and she almost stopped. Oh no. No, not that.

“Stiletto? Ham?” She called her boys’ warrior names.

No response.

“Stiletto? Ham?” Her voice rose on the end. Please be alright. Please. The newcomers fell as North pushed them aside. She ran into the cleared path and slammed against him when he stopped. Blood trickled from her nose as she bounced off him. Finding her footing, she stepped around him.

Stiletto was stretched out on the ground. An arrow protruded from his unmoving belly and blood stained his shirt. His mouth was slightly open like how he slept as a babe. Like when she cradled him in her arms.

Another ‘Vider held Ham’s lifeless body.

Tears distorted her vision before she could take in much more. Belle fell to her knees. Tremors wracked her body. Her sons. Her babies. Dead. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she rocked back and forth.

Ham was laid before her. Beautiful Ham. With his long nose and dimples, he reminded her of her brother, Harlan. Belle’s hands shook as she brushed the mud off Ham’s bald head. He’d been a sweet boy before his training had begun, always quick with a smile, and allowing his younger sisters to toddle after him.

She choked on the wail rising in her throat.

North picked up his first born. Stil’s arms and legs were stiff, unbending. North’s eyes were bright when he stared at her. “I will find whoever did this, Belle. I will hunt them down and I will kill them, their sire, their dame, their children and anything they ever prized.”

She nodded. Yes. She understood it now. Why things were the way they were. “Kill them all.”

Chapter 17

Sera blew into her hands then rubbed them together. Her words fogged the air, momentarily shrouding the stars in the sky. Wedging her backpack between her shoes, she opened it. The zipper's metal pull tab was cold to the touch. They'd stopped for the night ten minutes ago and already her butt was numb from sitting on the ground. "Do you think we should warn them?"

Harlan peered across the dark desert to the high flames of a campfire. Every once in a while, a human silhouette shifted in front of it. "Nah, they're about five miles away."

Five miles. Maybe a two hour walk. At least the bright moonlight would show the way. Her feet throbbed. It would be worth it to have a fire. "What about the 'Viders?"

"If they are close, they'll find them first and I can get you to safety." Facing the full moon, he untied the bundle of metal rods and threaded them together to make two poles.

 She pressed her lips together. Safe was a four letter word. One he kept hurling at her every time she mentioned staying put to spy on the 'Viders. True they were dangerous, but that was all the more reason to expose them to the world. "Why is my life more valuable than theirs?"

"Because I'm guarding it." The wind caught a blanket he used as the top of the lean-to. Stepping on it, he held it down then weighted the bottom with rocks.

"I can guard myself." She sliced open a dehydrated chicken stew meal, added water from her canteen, then sealed it up. Raising the bottle, she eyed it. Not even a cup left for the two of them in the morning. How far was it to water? "And every life matters."

"If that’s another of your rules, you need to forget it. Fact: some folks matter more than others." He dropped the blankets underneath the shelter and started spreading them out.

He hadn’t stopped heckling her about her rules. Like there was something wrong with liking order. "They——"

"You can take news of the 'Viders back to your city and maybe the good folks of Dark Hope will do something about it. If your people came down off your airships, then you would save more than three people. Or two thousand six hundred and thirteen."

Sera stiffened. "There is no need for sarcasm. Most dismissed talk of the 'Viders as superstition."

But someone obviously took the threat seriously. Why else would they drop a hundred TSG-17s in the middle of 'Vider territory? Was it a traitor or was Uncle Dawson planning an offensive?

Snapping the warming pad, she shook the powder inside until it began to heat up, then she set it under the chicken pouch.

Harlan dropped onto the blankets before crawling between the layers. "And now that you know, will your people ride in and save us all?"

She wanted to say yes, but that would be a lie. The cabinet would look to defend the city and its people first. As for what she saw, many who feared the Security Forces' influence would interpret the information to fit their own agendas. "I don't know. But if you came with me, your knowledge might be able to convince them to allow patrols of the Outlands."

"I got stuff to do, Peaches."

Same answer; different hour. For someone set on saving folks, he sure wasn't looking for help in doing it.

He patted the blankets. "Come to bed. We'll start before dawn tomorrow."

Peaches. The nickname was irritating but she could ignore it. She recognized it for what it was——an attempt to keep his distance. "Tempting, but I've got some things to do first."

"I promise I won't think of sex or survival."

Geez. He just didn’t know when enough was enough. Rooting around the pack, she dug out her toiletries bag. She intended to have every advantage the next time she encountered a 'Vider. "You don't have that much gold."

He chuckled, a rusty sound that quickly faded. "Is this the start of negotiations?"

"Don't be ridiculous." A breeze chased the heat away from her skin. She shivered and her teeth began to chatter. "Just go to sleep and I'll wake you when dinner is hot."

"No fires."

"I don't need fire." He'd been watching her work, she knew he had. She felt his gaze on her the entire time. Opening the toiletries bag, she checked inside. Everything looked functional but she wouldn't know until she started to work. And she'd need someplace other than the ground.

Dirt wouldn't help her fix the stun-gun.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he patted the bed again. "Bring your magic tools and come over here out of the wind. I can see you shiver."

“Fine, but stick with rule twelve and honor your word.” Piling everything on her pack, she carried it over. Without the wind blowing on her, she warmed up. Propping their heating meal against the pole, she organized her tools and the TSG-17.

He flicked the metal barrel. "Thought this didn't work."

"I think I can fix it." Actually, she knew she could if she had the right parts and if the power cell could still hold a charge.

"Don't know why you bother, you are getting on that train tomorrow."

She wasn't. She'd just discovered that there was a traitor on board and that they could actually be arming the 'Viders. Surely that would get the Cabinet to act.

As for the 'Viders, her people would need more information on them before drawing up countermeasures. Setting the weapon on the blanket, she lined up her two lipsticks, mascara tube, and eye liner pencil. She stacked the cloisonné compact with the eye shadows before setting the liquid foundation next to it.

"Are you rich compared to most others in Dark Hope?" Harlan trailed his fingers over the compact.

She held her breath for a moment. Calm down. The explosive in the case wouldn't explode just by touching it. She followed the directions exactly when she built it. "Maybe you shouldn't touch them."

His hand stilled. "I have my own gold."

"Yeah, yeah. You can afford lots of women." Good grief, the man was prickly.