Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (6 page)

An orange-haired, flat-chested woman clomped up the steps and stood next to her father. Nessie stared at the crowd with one milky eye and one brown eye. Red scars crisscrossed her jaw and throat. The cancers had been cut out last year when she'd turned fifteen.

She had made it to the age of consent.

Lee's hands tightened on the reins. Jeb's horse-faced daughter would marry. The men would line up to court the spinster. Hell, you didn't have to have your eyes open to begat children and any price would be worth it for that land.

Director Cole banged the meat tenderizer. "We abide by your script changes provided Nessie can perform her part."

"She can." Jeb swallowed and patted his daughter's hand. After kissing her cheek, he took his place in front of her. He gripped the dark-stained rail. "I have given the best years of my life to Sanctuary. I will not waste my toil by squandering it in my old age."

He raised his chin.

Grabbing her father's hair with one hand, Nessie flicked her free wrist. Silver winked in the sunlight. She pulled the straight-edged razor across her father's throat in one smooth stroke. Red seeped into the cut before blood spurted out.

The crowd rushed forward, cupping the crimson droplets and smearing it on their faces.

By the time Nessie finished slashing, Lee could see the white flash of the man's spinal cord. As her part required, she held her father upright until the blood stopped flowing, then she pushed his empty husk over the railing. Zeb's face hit the green grass first, then his corpse folded over it.

Damn, that girl had the makings of a fine wife. If he wasn't leaving, he'd consider marrying her himself. She could give him a son worth a damn, and their property would be the biggest in town.

A soft mewl cut off his planning.

But he couldn't think like that anymore. Sammy needed him and he'd promised.

Director Cole pounded on the table before rising to her feet. "Well done."

The other four members of the Guild also stood. The ovation gave Nessie sole claim to her father's property. After licking Jeb's blood from her fingers, she folded the straight razor and curtsied. Director Cole's youngest son trailed a daisy through the bloody dirt before offering it up to Nessie.

Inclining her head, she accepted the tribute.

Lee shifted on his seat. Nice touch. Women went for that sentimental shit. The lad would be on the casting couch in no time. Two men drifted away from the crowd and disappeared from his peripheral vision. Lee stiffened. The Guild's bouncers were leaving before the final curtain. Time to shuffle the Acts.

Director Cole licked her lips, no doubt counting her acres before her son could secure the role of husband. She resumed her seat and pounded for order. "Mic Norton, are you ready for your final soliloquy?"

The old man swayed on his feet.

Drugged. Lee spat in his direction before securing his reins. The fool didn't even have the stage presence to take his final bow sober. Why had Lee's family spent all these years trying to make something out of these cowards? They weren't even fit for Chorus girl number two roles. "I have something to say."

"Producer Neville, your cue is not until after the curtain calls." Director Cole twirled the meat tenderizer in her fingers.

The ham thought to upstage him, did she? She had another think coming. "As per the original script, a Producer can switch up the acts should he so desire."

Lee glared at each person on stage. He dared them to contradict him. Despite his son's stage fright, he had another year as Producer until his own final soliloquy. One that would be denied to him now. But he would retain his family honor.

And his granddaughter's life.

Director Cole snapped her fingers.

The Dean boy scampered across the stage with the script. Bowing with a flourish, he offered a worn blue booklet to the director, who quickly fanned through the town's charter.

Not that she could read it. Besides Lee, only Irving could make sense of the letters. He could tell her she was required to strip naked and dance a hula and she'd believe it, if Irving backed him. Bracing his feet, Lee stood on the cart. From his position, he stood at eye level with the Guild.

Irving cleared his throat. Director Cole turned her head slightly and he nodded. She thrust the book into the boy's stomach and shooed him away. Irving ran his hand over the boy's flanks when he passed.

"Very well." The Director cleared her throat before smiling wide enough so everyone could see her canine teeth. "Will your son not be present for the reading of the roles?"

The bitch was enjoying herself. Lee forced his hands to his side. "Brad Neville is here. But as his sire, I am invoking my right to stand-in for him."

"So be it." She inclined her head. "Players, take your marks."

The younger Guild members Janice and Stanley stroked their throats.

So, they too wanted blood. Lee grinned back. It would be his pleasure to deny them.

The crowd in his right peripheral vision shifted. His daughter-in-law lifted her faded yellow skirts as she climbed onto the stage. She kept her face averted but he saw the smile playing on her lips.

Blood pounded in Lee's ears and his vision narrowed to a spotlight on the stage. His wife's favorite dress. The whore wore his Lilly's favorite dress! He sucked air through his clenched teeth and forced the trembling from his limbs. Calm. He needed to be calm.

The crowd twittered and whispered.

Alisha Dean-Neville stood to the right of the Guild and peeked at the audience behind her curtain of blond hair.

Oh, she was good. He'd give her that. Her cunning made her perfect breeding stock for the Nevilles. Lee would have put up with it too, if she'd done her part. But the woman had gotten greedy and now he would punish her.

Director Cole banged on her table. "Alisha Dean-Neville is cast as the Innocent Victim."

Lee snorted. Innocent his ass. The woman hadn't been innocent since she developed breasts and ambition.

"Brantlee Neville standing in for Brad Neville is the Villain of the piece and Samantha Neville is the Martyr."

Applause exploded around him. Someone cheered.

And there it was. His kin a Martyr and Villain. Tainted, rejected by God. Lee's knees buckled. He turned his weakness into a stoop and pulled a nine-inch knife from his boot. The blade winked in the sunlight. He'd show them the Nevilles were neither.

The members of the audience nearest him stumbled back a few steps.

Director Cole sat back in her chair. "Whenever you are ready."

Lee clasped his hands behind his back. Since the Innocent Victim always took the first spotlight, he'd take his cues from her. Not that it mattered, his course was set.

Clearing her throat, Alisha tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at the audience. Her gaze skittered off him before landing to his right. "I have sinned before God and He has punished my daughter with Corpse Belly."

Lee's leg twitched. Could he have misjudged her? This defense wasn't new; others had used it in the past. Others had failed in the past except when... His heart seized in his chest. Damn. Could she be carrying a new Neville... Was she sacrificing one child to save an unborn? He chewed on the inside of his mouth. Then why hadn't she come to him? Was there still time to save the family property for his new grandchild?

Alisha dropped to her knees, cradling her belly. "While I was married to Brad, I lay with another." She swiped at her dry eyes. "I hungered for him and gave into my passions. It was after that first time that Samantha became sick. When I conceived my lover's child, Samantha's illness returned."

The crowd gasped.

Well, shit. He never should have taught the bitch to read. Now Sammy's death would be all the suffering Alisha would suffer. The precedent had been set; he'd set the damn thing in his first year on the Guild. Lee glanced at his son's body. And his boy had killed himself for nothing.

"Who?" The word scratched his throat as it left.

Director Cole pounded her meat tenderizer. "That is not relevant and as you are standing in for the Villain you don't have the right to interrogate the Innocent."

Lee speared the director with a glare and picked his nails with the knife in his hand. "By admitting to her sin, Alisha Dean-Neville rewrites her role as Innocent Victim and is now the villain. By default, I am now the Innocent and can ask questions."

Fanning the Script, Irving nodded. "Neville is correct."

Alisha wrung her hands before glancing at the Director.

White ringed Cole's thin lips. "Very well, who is your lover, Villain?"

Alisha shook her head; blond locks slapped her cheeks.

Irving rubbed his swollen finger joints. "Answer or you will take your curtain call. You've already admitted your guilt."

Lee's lips quirked. Guess she hadn't done her homework after all. It would be justice if the bitch died because of faulty plotting.  He could almost forgive her for the loss of his son then. Almost.

Alisha hung her head. "George Cole."

Laughter bubbled in patches around his wagon.

The director's son. Lee inclined his head toward the soon-to-be grandmother. Well played.

Director Cole pounded on the table for silence. "As the Villain's lover is already married, the Guild cannot force a marriage."

Alisha's bastard would be born a Neville. So both she and the spawn could inherit his family land.

Cole beamed at him in triumph. "Per the Script, the Martyr is to be presented for her curtain call. The Victim may choose to act as understudy, or Alisha may do so."

Alisha rose to her feet and pulled a small blade from her waistband. "As it is my sin, I should be forced to do the honors."

So they thought it was over did they?

"I have not spoken my lines."

The audience hissed. Someone in the back called for the show to continue.

Lee would give them a show. Hoisting a leg over the seat back, he dropped to the cart bed. Sammy blinked up at him. Ignoring her, Lee hooked his son's stiff arm. Muscles burning, he levered the corpse over the side and pushed.

The body hit with a thud.

A teenage girl yanked on the bloody blanket and held it against her chest. Taking their cue, two boys fell on the corpse. Others jostled for position. Flesh smacked flesh. Someone grunted. Soon it would be stripped of all possessions.

Director Cole toyed with her meat tenderizer. "Do you have anything to say that is relevant to the proceedings?"

The cart rocked as someone slammed into the side. "My son is dead. His life has been exchanged for my granddaughter. I will care for Sammy as is my right. Furthermore as his wife is without honor and isn't carrying any blood relation, I blacklist her from any claim to my estate."

Alisha stabbed the air with her knife. "You can't do that!"

Director Cole rose and rested her hand on his daughter-in-law's arm. "His final curtain is next year. Without a protector, the girl will be Martyred and you will inherit."

Climbing into the front seat, Lee grabbed the reins. And now the fun part. "Since Sammy and I will be required to take our curtain calls next year, I find myself in need of an heir. To that end, I shall select another one."

The crowd shifted. Faces, in their blood masks, turned toward him.

Now it was the director's turn to squawk. "You can't!"

Irving creaked to a stand. "He can." Ripping the script out of the Dean boy's hand, the Guild member shook it at the women. "Who do you name?"

Alisha swayed on her feet.

And now for the entertainment. "The first person to reach my land."

For a moment, nobody moved. A heartbeat passed, then the crowd pivoted and lunged forward. The younger three Guild members jumped onto the crowd below, knocking a few people down. Alisha yelled and leapt onto their backs. Waves of motion as men and women swung and punched the competition, trying to get an edge. Director Cole smacked the Dean boy upside the head with her meat tenderizer before joining the fray.

A minute later, only Lee, Sammy and Irving remained. Lee pulled the cart alongside the stage.

Irving slowly lowered himself to the bench seat before digging a slingshot out of his pocket. "You know they've set up an ambush, don't you?"

"I saw the enforcers leave." Lee slapped the reins and turned in the opposite direction of his home. The mule cantered out of town and plunged into the brush. He knew just where the trap would be laid. Hell, he'd set it up years ago. "Having second thoughts about joining me?"

"Nope, I'm too young to take my Curtain Call next year."

Lee nodded. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Chapter 7

Lee sawed on the reins steering the mule into the canyon. "Get those rocks ready, Sammy-girl." 

On the bench seat beside him, Irving pawed in his jacket for his slingshot.

A cloud scuttled across the sun. Shadows deepened the run-off channels carved into the sandstone walls. Red, brown and white bands striped the steep walls.

The place reeked of death.

Deaths Lee had arranged.

Tilting her umbrella back, Sammy peered up at him. Pain bracketed her lips. Bruises splotched her arm. Fist-sized ammunition teetered on her palm. "I've 'em Paw-Paw."

Irving's crooked frame creaked when he turned. His cadaverous fingers danced over the pile before he selected two potato-sized rocks. Yellow teeth flashed between his thin lips as he loaded his sling.

He would pick the best of the lot. Lee patted the spot next to him on the bench. "Set 'em here and when I say ammo set another five on the pile. Got it?"

"Can I shoot too? I brought my sling." Sammy tugged a leather strap with a white patch in the center from under her blanket.

Lee shook his head. The girl was too delicate. If she died before he'd even broken clear of the ambush, everything would have been for nothing. "Stay under the umbrella."

"But Paw-Paw..."

Her whining set his teeth on edge. "Samantha Neville, you will do as you're told."

With a frown digging into her sunken cheeks, she dropped deeper into the wagon bed. The umbrella closed her in like the lid of a casket.