Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) (24 page)

She writhed. “Ow! It hurts. It’s too tight.”

“Don’t fight and it won’t hurt so much. I ain’t gonna harm ya. Just collectin’ ya.”

Breathing ceased for a moment. “Are you Aurora’s friend?”

“Don’t got friends. Ain’t no such thing. Friends are just enemies that don’t have the balls to admit they’d cut your throat. You sit tight a minute.” He gave her a light smack on the ass. “Don’t slither off.”

Fear became anger as he wandered off. Grunting and wriggling, she twisted and squirmed, but succeeded only in making the ropes pinch. Her mood returned to panic as a scrap of burlap blocked her eyes and knotted tight against the back of her head. Hands clasped under her arms lifted her onto her feet, and after a few seconds, up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain. A dense, musky fragrance clung to him, a mixture of spice and sweet tobacco.

She struggled, held in place by a firm arm across the back of her legs and her own weight pulling her down. “Where are you taking me?”

“To your new boss.”

Her wriggling ceased. “Owner?”

The man laughed; a dry evil thing that made her shiver. “Nah, kid. You got lucky. The Freddie wants to hire you. I’m here to arrange the interview.”

She bounced as he walked, occasionally testing her ability to slip loose. “Hire? What does that mean?”

“You know about tradin’ or money?”

“Yes,” she said with a meek whisper.

“Hirin’s when you give a person money in return for them doin’ work.”

Althea thought for a moment, while trying to shake the blindfold off. “It is wrong to make people pay for my help.”

His conversational nature ended with a light double pat on the back of her thigh. “You can take that up with The Freddie.”

he walk felt like it took hours. Althea went limp after a few minutes of pointless struggling, dangling over his shoulder. She came close to crying, but the eerie lack of elation the man displayed kept her too frightened. Most who captured the Prophet could not contain their joy; this man radiated no stronger emotion than if he had found a shiny rock to take home. His fingers dug five numbing points into the side of her right thigh as he held her legs tight to his chest. The constant motion while hanging half upside down made her feel sick. She gurgled as he took a series of hard steps descending an incline and swung around a corner. The hiss of a breeze was somewhere above her, but she felt no wind. The tingle of the energy field swept through her legs, and the air grew warm and dry once more. Back in the Badlands dust, his boots scuffed as he carried her somewhere she could not see.

The world swooned around as he spun his left arm forward and a heavy metal door creaked open. The arm across the back of her legs moved, and she let off an involuntary yelp as her weight fell backwards. He caught her and guided her fall onto soft cushions. Althea knew it was a seat; a truck, she guessed, from how he had not stooped to put her inside. A hand on her knee pushed her legs in and she shivered as he reached across and secured some kind of strap over her. It pulled tight and crushed her hips into the cloth, and her wrists into her back.

“Ow.” She whimpered and squirmed in one last desperate attempt to get loose as the door slammed.

At least half of her life thus far been spent as a captive, but nothing had made her feel as helpless as she did at that moment. The blindfold was a scary twist she had not yet been unlucky enough to experience. The ability to see in the dark had left her always aware of her surroundings, always aware of which direction danger would come from―now all she had was blackness.

Still air inside the space carried the scent of wood smoke and flavored tobacco. The fabric against her legs felt soft, yet old. Carpeting, another new experience, teased at the tips of her toes when she strained to feel for ground. Helplessness changed her struggling into crying, and by the time the man opened the door on the other side, the blindfold had soaked through.

The vehicle rocked as he climbed in. “What are you cryin’ for?”

She turned her head towards him, trying to gawk at him for asking such an absurd thing. “You’re mean. I don’t want to go with you, and I hate being tied!” She surprised herself at the demanding tone in her voice as she yelled the last part.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Being mean?” The squirming was not getting her anywhere but sore.

He laughed again. What frightened her more than blindness was the lack of emotional radiance from this man. She knew people well enough to understand the sight of her in her current state should elicit some degree of emotion: Anger, pity, sorrow, greed, or the other one she so feared. To this man, it generated nothing at all. Not even the pleasure of finding a great prize. He seemed in no hurry to run off to whatever master he served, taking his sweet time fussing with something. Minutes later, the stink of pipe smoke carried the thick scent of clove to her. The man exhaled, took another drag, and let the air seep through his teeth.

“I hunt runaway slaves. Be happy you’re a special request; I don’t usually let the quarry ride up front.”

The seat beneath her filled with vibration as the machine came to life. “I’m not a slave.”

His dry chuckle slid under her skin and made her squirm. “I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. Regardless, I have a certain skill set that comes in handy tracking people down.”

She tried her best to sound demure. “Please untie me; I promise I won’t run.”

The rasp of a chuckle came again, strengthening the reek of clove. “Oh, I’ve never heard that before. Nice try, kid, but I ain’t gonna take the chance.”

He ignored her begging and thrashing for several minutes. She slumped forward and bawled. When that failed to elicit any form of response, verbal, emotional, or otherwise, Althea tried one last thing.

“I hate this. Will you please put me in a cage instead?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Nawp. That’s not a natural thing to ask; you’re sneakin’ up to somethin’. You can stay just like that. It’ll only take us a day and such to get there.”

She slouched, the thought of being helpless for so long made her sick. Already, her hands and feet felt numb. “Why did you tie my face?”

“Two reasons.” His voice tinged with a hint of fatigue; he did not seem to like talking with his prey. “One, they glow. The natives out here’ll recognize who you are and create problems. That’s for their benefit so I don’t have to kill a dozen people on the way to Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Town called Vegas, north o’ here a ways. It’s where The Freddy runs his place.”

“What’s the other reason?” Her voice grew smaller.

“Yer one of them psionics. Don’t want’cha messin’ with my brain. Gotta look into my eyes for that, and I ain’t havin’ it.”

“You know psionics?”

“Aye.” He exhaled again. “You Scrags think its magic.”

Althea shivered in her seat, unable to contain the fear that gripped her. “Please take it off for a little while. I’m scared. I promise I won’t do anything.”

A minute passed in silence before the desperation in her voice paid off. “Fine. But…” He hooked a finger under the rough cloth against the side of her head. “You keep your face pointed forward or to the side. I catch you looking at me even a little bit, I’m gonna hit you so hard you won’t wake up until Vegas. If I even think you’re trying some of that psio crap, you’re gonna hurt like you’ve never known pain.”

“Okay.” She looked to her right, trembling.

He tugged the blindfold down, leaving it draped around her neck. Terrain zoomed by outside. The bizarre, out-of-place forest was long gone, replaced by a field of sand-brown blurs broken by the occasional flash of a piece of scrub. Careful not to look at him, she ventured a glance ahead at the road. It led off in a perfect straight line before diving into the creeping flames of the setting sun shimmering across the horizon.

After shifting to force blood into her numb hands, she put her feet up on the dashboard, trying to find some way to get comfortable. She studied the knot between her ankles, wincing as she jostled from the motion of the ride. The pressure made the veins in the tops of her feet bulge more than usual. Her attempt to wriggle some blood flow past the bindings left footprints in the dust. Althea gave up and sank against the door, watching the terrain blur past. She looked up from the ground at a mirror bolted to the door, which offered a view of three metal boxes in the truck bed. Scraps of cloth covered bars at the ends of cramped one-person cages. She stared down at her lap, feeling stupid for running away. No fight remained in her. She marveled at how exhausted she was, yet still, sleep stayed so far away.

“You look tired, kid. You should rest. The Freddy’s got a lot of work for you.”

The castoff glow from her eyes sank onto her extended legs. “What does he want?”

The man leaned back in his seat, smiling. “He’s got himself a nice little stable of whores.” He cackled at the face she made. “No… You’re the Prophet, right? That’s not why he wants you.”

He pulled her chin toward him, and she almost wet the seat when she made eye contact with him, remembering his threat.

He appraised her before shoving her away. “Course in a couple of years you’re gonna be a god damned looker.”

Althea cowered away, hoping he did not think she tried anything. “What does he want me for?”

“See, whores tend to pick up all sorts of nasty things, but they keep the gamblers happy. The Freddy likes happy gamblers, so he needs healthy whores. The Freddy wants you to keep them clean. His men get shot up now and then, too.”

“He’s going to keep me in a cage.” Althea pouted.

“That depends, I suppose.” The man leaned out the window, tapping his spent pipe on the outside of the door.

“Depends?”

“On iff’n you accept his offer. Slave or employee dependin’ on how you answer.” He sucked something out of his teeth. “I suggest you say yes. No one says ‘no’ to The Freddy.”

She relaxed. It was the same old routine. They were still bandits and raiders even if they had fancy names and fancy huts. They were still men. Men with minds; as soon as she got where this man took her, she would force them to let her go. Her current companion gave her a dreadful feeling, but she would not allow herself to be owned again. Something about this person frightened her into not wanting to influence him, but The Freddy would have a change of heart and let her go. If the whores were slaves, she would take them with her. The thought of freeing another harem made her miss her friends.

“It will be dark to you soon.” She looked to the right, out the passenger window.

“Yep. T’will.” He still sounded emotionless.

“I can see at night. Want me to drive?” The silly suggestion came out before she thought it through.

She was not even sure how to work this metal beast.

He laughed, and patted her on the leg. “Again, nice try, kid. I almost like you.”

Pushing her feet into the dashboard, she tried to slide out of the over-tightened seatbelt. “If you crash and get hurt, I will not be able to get out or touch you to make your hurt go away.” The suggestion of her being trapped in a wreck still failed to provoke any kind of emotion.

His silence was ominous.