WastelandRogue (12 page)

“So you’re not going to help?” He continued to frown as he
took the coat.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just stiff and tired and that makes
me irritable.”

“Just that?”

She ground her teeth together to hold her temper at his
sarcasm, then through gritted teeth she said, “If we’re going to do this, then
let’s get going.” Not waiting, she headed for the community. She hadn’t wanted
to involve herself but it was because of Shay she had changed her mind. What if
her sister needed help and no one was there for her?

“All right then. We fight them all. Just try not to get shot
by any of these fellows.” Sevrin’s serious tone stopped her.

“Why? I heal quickly.”

“I hear they use special bullets they custom make for their
guns—allium slugs, packed with a blend of ground allium and gunpowder. So don’t
go telling them to go ahead and shoot you or you’ll find yourself at their
mercy.”

“Great.” Rye clasped her hands together to stop the sudden
trembling. She used to live a fearless life before Hamner introduced her to the
critical effects of allium.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Sevrin patted her back. “I
think we have an advantage with surprise and strength.”

She watched him walk ahead. Pride crept in and vanquished
her tremors. He thought her competent and capable, like an equal—something that
she didn’t get much from men of either species, and that outweighed her
smallest fears.

“You’ve had run-ins with marauders in the past?” She thought
of the few scuffles she’d been in before. They avoided her for the most part.
But there were some that had enough arrogance to act rashly. Those were the
ones she avoided.

“Just a few, here and there, no large gatherings like this.”
Sevrin examined his weapons as they walked.

“Me neither. This should be interesting.” She took a deep
confident breath. “Where do we start?”

“I think first we need to sneak in and find out who we might
rely on to help and who’s going to be against us. We’ll head for that shack on
the far left. It’s away from any activity I’ve seen.”

She followed him through the shadows of rock and brush. He
motioned for her to go to the door alone. She put her ear to the weathered wood
and listened. The eerie quiet made her tense. She tried the latch and eased the
door ajar. No sounds of movement greeted her and she relayed that mutely to
Sevrin.

He waved her to go in and stay. She didn’t question his
plans, knowing he’d let her in on what he wanted from her when he was ready.

The shack had a coziness that reminded her of home. Whoever
lived there kept it neat. Even the odd sorts of dishes and drinking cups sat
neatly on a shelf. Blankets and pillows lay stacked on a metal trunk similar to
the government ones Sevrin had. The wooden furniture had seen better days, yet
every piece had a useful purpose, chairs for sitting, tables for eating or
working and a bed.

“Who are you?” A small young voice startled her.

Rye spun around to find a little girl half her height
peering out from a curtained doorway.

“I’m Rye, who are you?”

“Tari.” The girl came out of hiding holding a rag doll tight
to her chest. “You’re the first female marauder I’ve seen.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Rye surveyed the room for possible
hiding places of others.

Tari nodded.

“I’m not one of them.”

“Are you going to help my daddy get rid of those bad
people?” Tari asked.

“I don’t know. We can try,” Rye answered quickly, hoping to
reassure the girl she was no threat. But she forgot to conceal her fangs.

“Oh, you’re
lamian
,” Tari gasped. “Of course you
wouldn’t be with them.”

Rye squatted down, meeting the girl at eye level. “Have you
met any
lamians
before?”

“Lots of them. They’re very nice.”

Rye smiled. “I’m nice too,” she said, finding it odd to have
a human girl look at her without a sliver of disgust in her gaze.

“Those men who came here aren’t nice,” the girl stated
sadly. “They make Daddy do what they say.”

“Unfortunately, there are bad people and good people in all
species.” Rye smiled.

Tari reached out and touched Rye’s hair. “I’ve never seen a
lamian
with light hair. It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” Rye finger-combed back the dark strands hanging
in Tari’s face. “Mine needs washed and yours could do with some cleaning as well.
After everything is all back to normal around here, you get your mother to give
your hair a good scrubbing.”

“My mother’s dead. The marauders killed her the first day
they came.” Tari hugged her doll again. “Maybe you could wash my hair?”

Rye touched the girl’s cheek. The gritty roughness of dirt
clinging to dried sweat hid the smoothness of the child’s skin. “We’ll see,”
Rye said, delaying the disheartening truth. How did she explain she had
something else to do, somewhere else to be?

The door opened and Sevrin entered quickly. Tari immediately
took a step back, worry evident in her eyes.

“It’s all right. He’s not a marauder either,” Rye told the
girl.

“I think they’re pretty soused,” Sevrin announced,
immediately going to a wall and looking through the gap between boards. Then he
turned to her and Tari. “And who do we have here?”

“Her name is Tari. She says the marauders killed her mother
and have her father doing their bidding. She wants our help.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “And you, who wanted to circle the camp
and be on her merry way.”

“Shush, no jokes in front of the girl.” Rye pushed Sevrin
away and returned her attention to Tari. “Will you do something for me?” she
asked the little girl but didn’t wait for any more than a nod. “I want you and
your doll to hide for a little while. Do you have someplace in here that no one
can see you?”

“Daddy made a space for me under the floor.” Tari pointed to
the corner of the room. “I don’t like it in there.”

“Rye?” Sevrin called her.

She took Tari’s hands between hers. “A small dark place is
my favorite spot to rest. It’s as safe as if I were in my mother’s arms. You
get in that hiding place and you think about how much your mother loved you.
I’ll come get you out just as soon as it’s safe.”

“You won’t forget?”

“Never, I promise.” Rye rose, keeping hold of Tari’s hand.

She let Tari show her the loose floorboards. Then she lifted
them carefully. A dank, stale waft of air greeted her. She didn’t like having
to put the girl, the
human
girl, into the dark hole.

A small baby lizard skittered into the opening and
immediately ducked back into his hideout. Any other time, Rye might have
snatched the creature up to skin it. A good number of things could be made from
the durable hides besides boots, coats, gloves and flasks. She had made Shay a
belt and hat from a patchwork of baby lizard hides. The larger adult-sized
lizards, growing the length of her arm, offered skins that she used to make a
seamless pillow and a padded stool, which turned out to be her favorite.

“Don’t come out until I or someone you know tells you it’s
safe,” Rye told her, helping Tari crawl into the niche.

“I won’t.” Tari lay down, crossed her arms over her chest
and closed her eyes.

Rye stared at her for a second, laid out like a
lamian
in slumber.
She’ll be safe
, Rye assured herself and carefully placed the
boards back in place.

“Ready?” Sevrin put a hand on her back.

“She
will be
safe in there, won’t she?” Rye asked,
seeking the assurance she had trouble mustering on her own.

“We’ll keep trouble as far from this shack as possible.” He
pulled her from the corner and pushed her to the side of the door. “I’m going
out and around the building. I’ll walk into the camp as if I just arrived from
the same direction we came the first time. From there, I won’t know what to do
next until I see how they react.”

“And me?”

“Sneak into as many of these shanties as you can without
being seen. Explain to the locals we’re here to help, but we need their
assistance too. Once the marauders wake up, it will take all of us to convince
the leader to leave.”

“What if these people are too scared to help?”

“You’ll have to convince them. Just don’t take too long.
I’ll be in a very sticky situation if no one’s got my back.” He cracked open
the door.

“Sevrin?” She put her hand on his arm. “You have me, if no
one else.”

He patted her hand and went out the door.

She waited. When no alarms went up, she slipped outside and
headed for the next building. She peered through the gapped boards and saw two
men.

“Bring us more of the drink,” the scruffy bearded man
demanded, banging his cup repeatedly on the table.

Shifting her position to get a new angle on her view of the
room, Rye spotted the to whom he spoke. A bedraggled female with a small,
unhealed cut on her cheek approached the table with a clay jug. The human woman
pulled at her torn clothing, drawing it back up on her shoulder as she refilled
the man’s cup.

“What about me?” The heavier, surly man swung his cup up and
clacked it against the clay jug so hard, Rye expected the vessel to break.

“That’s-that’s all-all of it,” the woman stuttered, stepping
back.

“Don’t go holding out on us.” He jumped to his feet and
snatched her by the arms. The jug fell and hit the edge of the table. It split
into several pieces. Some stayed on the table, others dropped to the floor. “We
want more and you’re going to get us more.”

“There is none,” she whimpered.

“Don’t lie to me.” He shook her, making her dress drop from
both her shoulders and slip low on her arms.

“Forget about the drink, Milt.” The scruffy bearded man
rose, tipped back his head and gulped down the rest of his drink. “I’ve
recovered enough to go at her again.”

Surly Milt responded with a grin. Then as if the idea were
his own, he twisted the woman around and bent her forward over the table. “You
went first before, Wirdle. I get to do her while she’s conscious this time.”

Rye had seen enough. She hurried to the door and grabbed the
handle, ready to barge into the scene with her anger. Instinct and common sense
stopped her. She took a steadying breath. If she went in raising a ruckus, it
would alert the other marauders.

A whimper instead of a scream escaped the woman inside. The
sound of defeat made Rye wonder how many times they had raped her.

Rye’s thoughts blurred with images of Shay’s face. Had her sister
suffered similar abuse? Rye shook away the vision and pushed down on the lever.
When she let go, the unleveled door swung open on its own.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rye said, knowing exactly what she had
to do to distract them from the despoiled female.

The scruffy bearded man stood at the far side of the table
holding the woman’s outstretched arms across the wood surface. Milt had the
woman’s filthy skirt shoved to her waist, her bruised buttocks bare. He fumbled
with the closure on his pants.

Both men let go of the woman, surprise widening their eyes.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Rye purred with false
sincerity, keeping one hand near her mouth to hide her fangs from view. “I was
told to come here and pleasure Wirdle and Milt. But you gentleman already have
a woman, so I must have the wrong place.”

She turned, pretending to leave.

“Wait. I’m Wirdle,” the man said. “This is Milt. Who sent
you? Orland?”

“Does it matter?” She batted her lashes and gave a nod
toward the woman. “He must not have known about her. I’m sure if he did, he
would have sent me to someone else. He had a strong desire to reward all his
men for a job well done.” She hoped they’d not question what job.

“She was just leaving.” Wirdle motioned to the woman to get
out.

The woman hurried around Milt and past Wirdle.

“Wait.” Rye seized the woman’s wrist, stopping her from
running out the door. “Go fetch us some wine.”

“There isn’t any more.” The woman flashed a nervous look at
Rye.

“Come now, we don’t want to hold out on these men.” Rye
ushered the woman out the door and then whispered, “Go to Tari’s shack and stay
there.”

“Who are you?” Confusion glistened in the woman’s
tear-filled eyes.

“Just go.” Rye pushed the woman outside and shut the door.
Then she turned to the men. “Now, where we? Oh yes, I remember.”

Slowly, provocatively, she unlaced the shirt of Sevrin’s she
still wore. The garment wasn’t as appealing as when she had first started
wearing it. Spotted with dirt and dried blood, it lacked the alluring scent of
Sevrin. Still, she felt connected to him by the memory of his unselfish
offering of blood when he found her near death.

“I do her first,” Milt declared, unfastening his pants.

Since neither of them had noticed her fangs, Rye moved
toward the men in a way that kept their attention fixated on her hypnotic
motions. She played with the shirt’s opening, sliding her fingers up and down
to expose more of her skin.

Wirdle harshly shoved Milt aside. “You ain’t man enough for
her.”

“What do you mean I ain’t man enough for her?” Wirdle puffed
out his chest. “You saw me with that other one. I banged the hell out of her.”

“And nary a fight out of her either,” Milt countered. “You
wouldn’t know what to do with a wild one.”

Rye left the shirt hanging partly opened. She unlaced the
front of her pants, deciding to entice the two men into fighting over her
instead of continuing their almost comically childish argument.

“I’ll just do myself, if you two can’t decide.” She slid her
hand inside and rubbed her cunt. “Ah, I’m so wet.”

Milt grabbed Wirdle’s arm and tried forcing him out of the
way.

“Oh, how I could use a big fat cock in me,” she moaned.
“Which of you has what I need?”