Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (16 page)

"A month or two’s worth, if I choose."

That was not an attractive trait in a mate. Not that she was thinking of him in those terms. But even in a temporary partner, having that many women know him could be dangerous. "These are weapons. My personal weapons."

"Hate to tell you this, Peaches, but lots of Outlander women wear paint."

"It's not paint." She picked up the lipstick, twisted the bottom to the right and pressed. The cap and lipstick lifted free to reveal a small LED bulb. After a moment, it blinked on and a dot of light shone on their lean-to.

"Impressive, but hardly fatal."

She gritted her teeth. Why couldn't he go back to being the strong, silent type? "The compact and eye shadow contain the explosives. These are my tools."

He picked up the flashlight and aimed it at the supplies.

Turning her toiletries kit inside out, she tugged on the liner. Velcro protested then fell quiet. Shrink-wrapped circuits, wires and resistors were tucked inside the strategically arranged pockets.

He whistled low.  "If I knew what that stuff did, I'd probably be speechless."

Sera sat up a little taller. "Thank you, I designed it myself."

She'd had twenty-seven years to plan her authorized departure from the city. Freeing the stun-gun from its hook, she laid it on the blanket, removed the screwdriver from the mascara tube, then opened up the weapon's innards.

"You're still getting on the train, even if I have to put you there myself."

"I'll just get off the other side when you leave." Attaching the alligator clips to the TSG-17's trigger and relay, she plugged the leads into her makeshift wristwatch and ran a diagnostic. "You'd have to sit on me all the way to Dark Hope."

On the bright side, she'd have an ally and intelligence to bring to her uncle.

On the dark side, a traitor could still be at large.

And if anyone learned she'd been pushed from the airship, she might never be allowed out again. Not officially anyway.

He tilted his head to watch the watch's readout. "As intriguing as that sounds, I could just tie you up and stuff you in a closet."

"Because that worked out so well the last time you did it. Tied me up, I mean," She reached for their dinner.

"You'd be naked this time." His eyes glittered. "I might have to do a thorough search to make sure you don't have anything else tucked away."

The heating pouch dropped from her fingers. Embarrassment blazed in her cheeks. Christ. So much for his not thinking of sex.

He caught the bag before it hit her tools, juggled the pouch before dropping it onto her shirt. 

 She held her breath, listened to her heart drum in her ears. Obviously the man had been left alone in the wilderness with just his hand for company for too long. She had to take control of the situation. Now. "If you think I’m a pushover, you need to think again."

He ran the light down her body, pausing every once in a while. "I pushed you over twice since we met. That puts me two up on you."

She breathed slowly out her mouth. “I fell and hit my head the first time. The second time, I understood the evil of the ‘Viders.”

“Uh-huh.”

She set her tools on the blanket. If he wasn’t going to give her the respect she deserved, she’d knock it into him. “Two outta three.”

His brow wrinkled. “Two outta three what?”

“You. Me.” She stood up, wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. “I pin you to the ground for three seconds two outta three matches, you come with me to Dark Hope and tell my superiors about the ‘Viders.”

He pushed the blankets to the side. “And when I pin you?”

When? He’d regret his overconfidence. With the heel of her boot, she marked a seven foot wide circle. “What do you want?”

He tossed her a wicked grin. “Well, you know us Outlanders, if we’re not thinking about survival...”

“Sex? You want to sex.” Geez. Gathering her hair in a ponytail, she stuffed it under the collar of her shirt. Then stepped inside the circle.

“No, I want all of those chewy bars you have.” He rolled his shoulders before joining her. “I can buy sex, it saves on the complications. That’s a rule, too.”

Now, he was just being insulting. Bending her knees slightly, she waited on the other side of the ring. “Which number?”

“If you win, I’ll tell you.”

Oh she was going to win alright. Sera’s heart drummed in her chest but excitement zinged through her. She never felt more alive than when faced with a challenge. When she shifted to the side, she put her right foot slightly forward.

His eyes narrowed a second before he charged.

She stepped forward, ducked and swept his legs out from under him. He dove for the ground. Before he could get his hands under him, she pounced on his back and pinned his arms under her knees. Lastly, she grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back as far as it would go. “Give?”

“Give.”

She sprang off him and retreated to the far side of the circle. He might be a poor loser, attack her before the match reset.

Growling, he pushed to his feet and dusted himself off. “So you’re not a complete softie. Of course, the important bits are soft and that’s what matters.”

She ignored his sexual bantering to focus on kicking his ass. They circled each other, neither making the first move.

“But we have rules in the Outlands, the more you plan for something the more fucked up things become.”

“Rule twenty-two.” One she’d come to appreciate since her impromptu skydiving. She faked an advance.

He grabbed her hair before she could retreat. His arm was wrapped around her throat before she drew another breath.

She head butted him, felt the crunch of his nose as she made contact. Stars twinkled in her vision. Damn that hurt. She scraped her boot heel down his shin while preparing the coup de grace.

He hissed but didn’t release her.

Cupping her fist, she rammed her elbow into his gut then flipped him over her shoulder when his grip loosened. She straddled his chest, digging her knees into his biceps, and brought her fist up, ready to hammer him. “Give?”

“Give.” He cupped his nose, winced, then wiped away the blood. “I knew you’d want to be on top the moment I saw you.”

Rising, she offered him a hand up. Would he take it, or would he try to pull her down?

He stared at it for a moment before sliding his palm across hers. His hold was strong but he rose on his own power. “So what did you make me for dinner, woman?”

She blinked. “Woman” was slightly better than “peaches,” but the connotation sucked. She wasn't there to wait on him. “You will come with me to Dark Hope, right?”

Favoring his right leg, he limped to the blankets. “I have to, rule something or other.”

Yes! She practically tap danced to the blanket and floated down. Her people would need that intelligence if they planned to attack. Especially since the 'Viders seemed to be preparing for war.

"But, since this is my land, you follow my rules. No questions."

"Fair enough." She shrugged. Besides, she'd memorized most of them anyway. "It's chicken stew, for dinner."

She handed him a wipe to clean off the blood then the warm food pouch. Steam escaped when she unrolled the top.

He accepted both without touching her. Before she could pull her army knife and its complement of eating utensils from her pocket, he had raised the pouch to his lips and drunk.

So much for sharing. Pushing her hair out of the way, she checked the watch’s readout——the stun-gun had a blown resistor. It was always the same with these old weapons. Separating the soldering iron from her eye liner, she selected the right resistor.

Harlan smacked his lips. "It's good. Like the bar better, though. This one won't hold you for long, let alone me."

"It has dessert with it." She held the hot tip against the solder, melting it so she could pluck the bad wire free.

"Dessert?

"In the bag." A cold gust snaked down her back and her hands shook as she placed the new resistor.

He set the pouch against her thigh.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him fiddle with her spare shirt. "In the bag. It's a rectangle marked spice cake."

Sitting, he draped her shirt around her neck.

Heat soaked into her skin, radiated up her head and rolled down her back. "What?"

"No point in your heating pad thingy going to waste." Without another word, he scooped up her pack.

She blinked. O—kay. That was unexpected. She finished soldering.

He held his tongue between his teeth while scanning the words on the package. On the third rectangle, he winked at her then returned all but it to her pack. "You need to eat your dinner before dessert."

Clearing the watch, she reinitiated a scan and picked up the food pouch. He hadn't hogged it all. Shrugging, she raised it to her lips and drank. Bits of carrots and potatoes dissolved when they touched her tongue. Juice dribbled down her chin. Her parents would be shocked.

It was oddly liberating.

Thumping the bottom, she caught a lump of chicken and chewed.

He grinned at her and ripped another bite from the cake. "I like this better than the bar thing."

"That's because it's dessert." Duh. She carefully rolled up the pouch and blotted at her sticky chin. "What can you tell me about how the 'Viders attack?"

"They don't. Not at first." He licked the crumbs from his lips. "They pick off the people in the farms on the outside of the village."

That made sense. They would use those people to gain information on the opposition they faced.

"Just the people, not the animals. So it takes time to notice something's wrong."

"They first move at night, right?" To avoid detection.

He shook his head. "Nope. Daylight. Anyone who sees them is snatched, too."

"Daylight?" Damn. It wouldn't do to underestimate a force so brazen. "Are they well armed?"

"Knives, swords, clubs and farming implements. They're very...creative with farming implements." Paling, he swallowed and carefully covered the remaining half of the cake before offering it to her.

Creative. Her hand shook when she accepted the dessert. She'd seen accidents involving farming machinery. You didn't have to be creative to inflict serious carnage. "So all hand-to-hand combat weapons. Any long distance ones?"

"Today was the first time I'd seen a 'Vider use an arrow."

Sera looked down at the cake——dark like the boy's blood in the dirt. Carefully sealing the dessert, she returned it to her pack. "What about spears? Slings?"

Outlanders had them when they arrived in the Burbs, surely the 'Viders did too.

Harlan stared into the dark desert. His eyes lost focus as he lost himself in another time and place. "Spears are saved for the grand finale, same with slingshots."

Low tech, like everyone else. But if the 'Viders were armed with TSG-17s things would quickly shift in their favor. "What about in between? You said spears are saved for the grand finale. So what do they use to grab people after they've cleared the outliers?"

"They swarm in, screaming and yelling. All the village leaders are hunted and killed immediately. Their heads are mounted on spears and planted on the outside of town. Then the 'Viders declare the town theirs and begin demanding tribute."

"Tribute." The 'Vider in the woods had called her that before Harlan had shot him. She checked the watch's display. The stun-gun was working. Removing the clips, she began sealing it up. "You mean like gold or animals?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "People. They only want people."

"To work their farms, as slaves?"

His eyes locked with hers. "I think they eat them."

Her jaw dropped open. He couldn't have just said... No. No. It was too horrible to consider. People just didn't do that. Not even in the Outlands.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. The 'Viders are travelers. They don't live in one place, but are constantly moving about. You can't move that many prisoners without losing one or two." He flopped onto his back. "And I've never found one. But I've found bones. Lots of them, picked clean, too."

And animals wouldn't explain it. There weren't that many predators left on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Her stomach cramped. She tasted her dinner again. Oh my God. His answer made sense. Get a grip, Sera. There could be another reason.

A hundred other reasons.

One thing was damn sure, she couldn't go back to Dark Hope without proof. If she didn't get it, the cabinet would laugh off her request. And Harlan would be left alone to fight.

She flicked the safety off. The stun-gun hummed to life under her palms.

"What's that do?"

“It shoots a charge that short-circuits someone’s nervous system and incapacitates them.”

“Uh-huh.”

Aiming at a shrub, she pulled the trigger. The projectile smashed against the trunk, and blue light crackled around it before falling dark.

Harlan wrinkled his nose. “And that’s supposed to take a man down.”

“It does. It can also kill them.”

He folded his arms and lay down. “Think I’ll pass on the two outta three matches with that.”

Sera carefully stowed all her equipment then stretched out beside him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and spooned her. “For survival.”

He’d need more than two more tries to convince her of that. Still, she covered her nose in his blankets when the wind kicked up. At least she was warm. Forcing her breathing to even out, she closed her eyes.

“There’s just one thing, Peaches. We Outlanders like to keep things even.”

“I know.” She scrunched down further in the blankets. They were even. He’d taken her down twice; now she had returned the favor.

“Since you pointed out that you tripped and knocked your own self out that first time, by my counting you’re one ahead. I’ll have to fix that.”

Her eyes popped open. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 18

Scratching her lip, Marshall hid her smile behind her hand. This was so much better than she could have planned. War. On her first full day as Head Provider and with North advocating it, no less. Each advising juror had set their weapons on the table, condoning the action.