From The Ashes (Life After War) (88 page)

1

“
Home...”

Kendle rolled over, her sleep restless. She bumped into the sharp, cold corner of the seat and jerked awake.

They were home. Except, it wasn't, not anymore. Somehow, while she wasn't looking, Pitcairn had become her home.

The sound of the engines coming pulled her into alertness and sent a hopeful fear into her heart. People!

“
Luke!” she whispered urgently, a bit surprised he hadn't stirred.

She looked over to find him huddled against their backpacks, and even in the darkness, she could see his skin had a sheen of sweat. He was sick.

“
Shit!”

Kendle pulled the gun from her belt and slowly inched over to the window.

“
Please be good guys. Please be good guys.”

All she could see was headlights, at least ten of them. Five trucks circling the plane like they knew she and LJ were in here. Shit!

Kendle sank down, racing for a solution.

“
Come on out of there.”

Make a deal!

Kendle slowly stood up, hoping she had the courage to get them through this alive, and longing to see a group of uniformed authority to help them.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as she climbed down, the wind chilly and the sky ominous.

The vehicles turned their lights off all at once, throwing them into darkness.

Kendle stopped at the bottom of the short stairs, gun in her hand.

“
Two of us are coming over. Don't shoot.”

The fact that the voice was female went a long way in calming Kendle's fears. “I won't.”

Gravel crunched as the vague shadows got closer. Kendle was able to make out hands holding lanterns that hadn't been lit and guns on hips.

Kendle stared at the wild women, eyes adjusting enough to show her men's clothing and weapons, and a hardness she'd never seen in American women before.

“
You fly in?”

Kendle nodded stupidly, staring as a lantern was lit.

Carol motioned toward the train. “Guess you've figured out what happened.”

Kendle forced herself to confirm it. “The whole country?”

Marsha grunted, eyeing the plane. “Yep. We finally did what everyone joked about.”

“
A few times over,” Carol muttered, studying Kendle. “What ya got in the plane that you felt the need to defend?”

Kendle reacted the way she'd been scarred. Fight or die. “My man. Why? You thinking about taking him?”

Both women blinked at the hostile tone.

Carol held the lantern up, now studying Kendle and her scars, as well.

“
Where you from, Hardass?”

Kendle slid the gun into her belt. “Maybe that information I don't care to part with.”

Marsha glowered. “If we wanted your man, we'd take him.”

Kendle took a step forward and growled.

It wasn't a warning sound or even anger. It was a victim in the corner about to spill blood in an attempt for freedom.

It was a noise the two caravan leaders knew well and they both took a step back. This wasn't the easy prey they'd hoped for when they saw the slender shadow through the plane window.

Kendle took a deep breath, pushing back the need to kill. “You should go now.”

Carol opened her mouth, maybe to offer a little encouragement.

“
Kendle?”

Marsha and Carol both took another quick step back.

“
He doesn't sound good.”

“
What's wrong with him?”

Kendle was torn–clearly they could be trouble–but she had no idea what to do to help Luke.

“
I'm not sure,” she said finally, shoulders slumping. “He was fine when we landed.”

Marsha and carol exchanged a glance. In it, they asked if they wanted to take the chance on helping a stranger. In this new world, that wasn't a good idea.

“
What ya got to trade for medicine?”

Kendle thought fast. Not the gun, food, or water. “Blankets, a couple packs of batteries, box of candle...”

“
What about the plane?” Carol asked, eyeing the metal. It wasn't rusting like everything they found now and it would make a good material for increasing the strength of their caravan.

Kendle slowly nodded. “I'll get our gear out. No gas in it, though. We coasted in on fumes.”

Marsha had been thinking about a plane all along. This land was dead. Staying was another bad idea, but those leading their little group had outvoted her. “Stand aside and we'll check him out.”

Kendle moved reluctantly, praying she wasn't making a mistake.

The two big women moved inside, eyeing the gear and the well-built man shaking on the floor.

“
Feverish, shocky pulse,” Marsha observed, kneeling down.

Carol nodded, doing the same. “No puke or shit, though–not a virus.”

She looked over to where Kendle was standing tensely in the narrow doorway. “How long you guys been here?”

Kendle added. “A week or so.”

“
Landsickness?” Marsha asked.

Carol shrugged. “Could be. He's strong, still.”

Marsha glanced at Kendle, able to see more of the bite-marks as the sun rose. “He do that to you?”

Kendle shook her head, trying not to shudder. “No.”

“
The person dead now?”

Kendle grinned, answer enough.

“
We'll give him a dose of antibiotics and give you the bottle. See that he takes three of the capsules every day and don't hide any back for the next time. If he has an infection and you don't give him all the meds, there won't be a next time.

Luke struggled beneath the rough hands, hearing voices but unable to make out the words. He'd never gotten sick so fast.

He opened his eyes to see Kendle leaning over him in concern. “Let the medicine work. You'll feel better.”

Luke didn't argue. He was too tired. He also had that ticking clock in his head again.

Kendle stayed by his side as the caravan set up a tight camp around the plane and began to settle down for a few hours sleep. As soon as Luke was able to be moved, she would load him into the small jeep she'd bartered for their remaining fruit–the sight of which that had sent the group of all women into fits of drooling and shouted bids. The currency of the world had changed.

Deleted Scenes

Deleted Part #1

Ignoring the chill, Rick stayed high and still as he spied on the battered brick building. When Brady had spun out of camp with the doctor, Rick had followed in the truck he’d gotten from McCook. That was before the Slavers had destroyed it while searching for the radio rigged to lure them there. Cesar’s men had killed everyone they’d found, and Rick hadn’t come down from his water tower vantage point.

The traitor studied the rest stop and the smoldering carnage through binoculars. Who was in such desperate need of a doctor that Angela’s skills couldn’t handle it? If it was Adrian, there was still hope despite the carnage.

But it wasn’t.

Rick had viewed Brady’s expression as he made the walk to the door. The woman was down, and that meant a group of extremely pissed males were in there–eager to kill anything that moved. Still, if Adrian didn’t know there was a new threat, he wouldn’t rush back, would he?

Rick settled against the slimy tree, being careful not to catch the attention of the Eagles on sniper duty. Once he saw where the Eagles were going from here, Rick planned to get busy collecting beans, bags, and, of course, bullets. He was sure Adrian would leave this area as soon as he could. The cicadas were all over the reeking bodies, birds circling below the layers of grit. Even the big ants were carting off gory chunks through the bushes, proving Adrian's carnivore theory. The thought of that happening to Cesar’s body made Rick want to cackle maniacally. He didn’t, of course. Unlike Cesar, Rick knew how to make himself wait for the right time.

Movement near the far edge of the ugly scene drew Rick’s attention to shadowy forms that appeared and then vanished in the fog. A minute of studying told him it was scavengers–the human kind. The few survivors from Adrian’s trap were also lurking near the rest stop. To attack?

Considering their lack of organization in contrast to his careful stillness, they were probably waiting for Adrian’s Eagles to be gone so they could clean up the scraps.

Plans quickly reshaped in his mind with little effort on his part, and Rick settled in for a snooze. The phone set on vibrate would wake him in a bit, and then he’d get ready to follow the Eagle scouts that were always sent out first. After that, he would come back and talk with the lurking Mexican survivors. He expected to kill at least one of them to prove his point, but they would soon understand that Cesar’s replacement was white.

It didn’t make the hatred any weaker or change the plans for Safe Haven. Every soul cowering inside its borders would come under Slaver control... and there would never be a better time to strike than now, when they thought they'd won.

2

Rick was the first one to pick through the remains after the Eagles left, and he did it with one hand on his gun. Thanks to Safe Haven, he was very, very good with it.

“
You could have been an Eagle,”
his demon taunted.
“You were supposed to be one of them.”

Rick swallowed the bitterness and allowed it to sink into that ball of rage smoldering in his guts. It wasn’t over. Angela’s death wouldn’t be the only price paid.

Foggy shadows shaped like tall mice drew his attention. The rats were coming.

Rick waited where he was, settled onto the charred hood of Cesar’s once golden car and smirking openly at them. His days of hiding were over.

The Slavers slowly came toward him. These men had been in the rear of the second convoy, catching up in time to witness the slaughter. Helping hadn’t been an option against the screams and the bugs. They’d hidden until it was over–were forced to, Rick guessed. Cesar had run their tanks dry to chase Adrian.

These dozen men had waited for Adrian to leave, hoping to strip whatever was left and flee south. They had no intentions of going to Cesar’s camp or even letting anyone know what had happened… except there was a witness to be handled. If the white man met up with the others, they would be hunted down. Shirking your duty was unforgivable, even if it meant your life. Rick held a small advantage… unless he was alone. Then, he was dead.

Rick knew. It was in their furtive glances and stiff strides. They’d forgotten who they were dealing with. Maybe one reminder wouldn’t be enough.

The traitor’s calm was disarming. “Guess we all got lucky.”

Not sure what he wanted, the Mexicans didn’t answer. They still hated Rick as much as they always had, but now, there was also a layer of respect. What Safe Haven had done here was the first defeat they’d encountered, and these men were reluctant to challenge anyone who had survived there undercover as long as Rick had.

“
So… going south from here, I’ll bet.” Rick jerked a thumb toward the rest stop. “Avoid it when you pick through. He’s got it wired. They knew there were survivors.”

The deserters immediately swept the shadows, as if expecting to see Adrian and his Eagles rushing toward them.

“
Now that they’re rollin’ again, he’ll send half of them to take care of Cesar’s camp.” Rick’s manner grew pointed. “Those who haven’t already deserted, anyway.”

Tension crackled at his veiled threat, hands tensing, getting set.

Rick slowly stood up and took his smokes from his front pocket. He inhaled, snapped the lighter shut. “Be a shame if Cesar’s camp got a call about you guys deserting him when he needed you the most. Kinda goes against the code, you know?”

“
They won’t survive,” sneered one of the men in the rear of the group. “And neither will you.”

The Mexican drew in a blur.

Rick was faster.

His bullet tore into the Mexican’s throat, and he fell forward, hands clasped around the gushing wound.

Rick immediately gestured with the barrel. “Strip him and put it in my share.”

The look the slavers exchanged made Rick chortle happily.

“
You’ve figured it out. Good. That’ll make things go faster. Let’s start with this: you go when I say so.”

His hard stance dared them to protest the order. He would kill the first one who did.

The shortest of the remaining men stepped forward calmly, but despite his mild manner, Rick knew this was the one among them who had planned to be their leader for the trip back across the border.

“
And when will that be, gringo? This land tastes like death.”

Rick hoped to surprise them with half-truths and brutal lies. “Two days. Help me with something, and then you can run like the cowards you are. When I pick my crew, none of you will be on it!”

They didn’t like that.

Rick felt it coming and fired again as the would-be leader drew.

Another body hit the ground with a dull, final thud.