E j deen, p.14
E. J. Deen, page 14
A pile of bodies lay off to one side, all of them children, four or five of them. They’d been tortured, burned alive, another sick practice the Hunters had adopted for the purpose of disposing with plague-infected people. The sight enraged him. He wanted to kill them for their ignorance, for their hate, their unjustified actions, and their paranoid fear. He wanted to charge into the clearing and battle each one with his bare hands, choke the life out of them one by one, but he controlled the desire, forced himself to remain calm. He couldn’t get involved. It was too risky. It wasn’t a part of his war.
While he looked on, one man went to the pile of bodies and, unzipping his trousers, proceeded to piss all over them. One of the others laughed when he saw what his friend was doing. Zach’s temper flared.
He wouldn’t be able to ignore this. It wasn’t right, what they were doing. Dammit, the children didn’t deserve to die this way, tortured, brutalized, hated.
The other men were talking amongst themselves as they lowered the woman from the tree. They wore heavy gloves that appeared to be made from some sort of homemade rubber, presumably an attempt to keep the men free of the taint they assumed was on her. Once she was out of the tree, they dumped her on top of the stack of dead children.
“Fuckers should’ve stopped screwing everyone, should’ve stopped spreading the damn disease,” one griped.
“If they had, our country wouldn’t be in such a state now,” another commiserated.
“The goverment should’ve quarantined earlier.”
“Quit yer blabbering and let’s get to work. We have another group to finish off before daylight’s through,” the leader interjected.
Christ, they were talking about killing more!
Zach glanced back at the charred remains of those children who had never known anything but an unforgiving world, the wood beneath the bodies, stacked to burn, to incinerate the flesh of the victims, and the virus with them. He looked back at the assholes responsible. Anger burned inside him, slow and steady, but lethal all the same.
He was tired of living in this putrid, hate-filled world. Tired of running. Tired of the fear. Tired of the plague. Tired of the indifference, the sacrifice, the days and nights of hunger. Tired of the people, the attitude, the apathy. He was sick to death of all of it. Something, somewhere, sometime had to change.
Maybe he should do something about these guys after all. He could give them a light show they would never forget. All it took was a little planning and a big dose of surprise.
He watched them carefully, calculating the possibilities. The stupid fuckers didn’t even know he was there, so close he could have reached out and thrust a knife into the chest of the nearest one. He was a master at camouflage, at staying perfectly still for long periods of time, accustomed to being completely silent. He’d had a hard teacher: experience. These men weren’t nearly as expert in survival.
He could tell by their actions, by the way they talked so loudly, and their disregard for the woods around them. But then, they didn’t really need to exercise caution. They had no real enemies. Most people feared them, didn’t even bother to fight back. The Hunters were at the top of the food chain, so to speak.
Zach made a careful assessment of the group. Five men. A quick check of his weapons assured him that he could take them all out with only one item from his bundles, but he would have to be careful. He would have to calculate his timing to perfection. So much depended on the men themselves, on what their next move would be. If he could catch them all around the fire, just when they were lighting it, then he could get away with it. They would be unaware, off guard, without weapons.
Like a gift from the cosmos, his moment came a second later. The perfect lineup. He acted quickly, yanking one of the hand-fashioned grenades from his bundle and taking careful aim. He didn’t need to worry about an igniter. The fire would take care of that for him. Only one problem remained. If it didn’t explode on impact, he was risking his life. There was no way of telling now.
There was no time to waste. He had to act before they moved out of position.
All five of the men were standing around the fire, waiting to make sure the victims burned completely before they took their leave of the place. The leader bent down and lit the edge of the wood. The small spark caught onto the flammable they had used, and the entire pile went up in a hot burst. Zach timed it well and threw his explosive at the precise moment of combustion.
The men never saw their demise coming. The grenade landed square in the middle of the pile,
exploding instantly as the flame touched the exposed igniter. Caught unaware, the men were thrown to the ground. In just seconds, it was over and the ground was littered with gore. Torsos with limbs missing, gaping holes in their abdomens. Faces burned down to flesh and bone in an instant. Dead. All of them. It was almost too easy.
Without even bothering to look twice, Zach stood up and skirted the clearing, his feet already programmed to their original course, heading south, his mouth set in that grim line so familiar to him.
He didn’t take any pleasure in annihilating those men. It was just something that needed doing. Justice.
Hard, maybe even a little difficult, but it was justice all the same.
He wondered at how hardened he had become. Killing them hadn’t touched him, affected him in any way. He’d just done it because he seemed to be the only one willing to take on the responsibility.
Maybe that didn’t make him any better than them, but he wasn’t going to sit by and watch it happen anymore. No more.
11
It took weeks to find the enemy, weeks of travel by foot, by hook, or by crook. He spent days prowling through different locales, observing everything that went on, watching and listening and waiting. He visited dives he’d never thought he would have to step foot inside, ever vigilant for any information he could use. Under the guise of a quiet drunk, he watched everything, waiting for the right word, the right rumor. No one paid much attention to him. When he wasn’t being low-key, he was friendly, buying a round or two of drinks for anyone who was willing to talk, the most awful, rot-gut whiskey he’d ever had the misfortune to slug back. He never asked questions, never pressured anyone. That would have been a mistake. He was in Pirate territory now, mid-Florida, sunny and warm, and anyone who had ears would gladly sell him to the Pirates for another sip of bad booze. Just one wrong move, a simple indication that he was looking for the Pirate’s lair, and he’d be history.
In a crowded, randy bar facing a muddy river that had once been known as the Blackwater, Zach began to hear bits and pieces of information. The sort of thing he’d been waiting for. Despite the danger, he decided to stick around for a day or two. He hoped to learn more before his anonymity wore off. But any more than two days could be risky. He didn’t want to become too familiar to these people. They might start talking around and inadvertently say the wrong thing to the wrong person. He was so near, too near to fuck it up now, and he was painfully aware that anything could go wrong.
And it almost did.
A woman was the cause of the commotion, a damn fine looking woman. She was tall, almost reaching his shoulder, which was tall for a woman, and she had long hair, an explosion of color that reminded him of the reds and browns of autumn leaves, burnished like bronze. She had a pert little nose that looked a little unusual over a wide mouth, with full, rosy lips, and blue eyes that could cut through iron.
She was the feistiest bitch he’d ever laid eyes on.
He’d spent the better part of the night copping a rather nauseous buzz with a few scumbags he’d been carefully picking for information. He’d discovered that as long as the booze was flowing they were more than willing to gab, and without much prompting from an outsider. They were stupid as hell, which made them especially dangerous to any man who wanted to keep a low profile. He only hoped they’d be too drunk to remember his face, or the fact that he had ever been there at all. Toward that end, he’d made certain to keep them well supplied with whiskey.
He was just leaving the bar when he made the acquaintance of the vixen. A few wobbly yards away from the shack, through a whiskey induced bout of tinnitus, he heard a ruckus in progress and couldn’t seem to keep from following the sound. It was such a slight sound, just a little scuffling noise really.
Something most people would have ignored. But not Zach. It held the promise of a fight in progress, and, despite the warning bell in his head telling him any interaction could threaten his anonymity, he was feeling a little on the brawling side and wasn’t about to back away from a few good cracks at a jaw, anyone’s jaw. Maybe it would relieve a little tension.
When he rounded the small building and took a good gander at what was taking place behind it, he paused to stand and gawk in surprise. There she was, red hair streaming like polished copper under the light of the half moon. She wasn’t alone. Two men were with her. Two characters that looked like they’d crawled up out of a sewer somewhere. Their intentions were crystal clear, and it was equally clear that she wasn’t willing.
The men were so intent on their quarry, the girl so intent on her attackers, that none of them were aware of Zach’s sudden presence. He didn’t bother to make himself known. He wanted a moment to observe, to determine if he should bother to get involved.
One of the creeps had the woman by the arms and was trying to pull them behind her to hold her still.
She fought his grip, kicking out at the other man, who was standing in front of her trying to grab her legs. They obviously intended to carry her off into the shadows somewhere. She was making a
respectable effort at warding them off, but Zach could see she was getting tired. Judging by all the scuffmarks in the dirt at the threesome’s feet, the struggle had been in progress for awhile.
Zach looked on with open interest. He found it a little inspiring actually. The woman was no dummy.
She fought in complete silence when most women would have been screaming like a stuck pig from the word go. But not this one. She was too smart for that. She obviously realized screaming would only attract attention, and any kind of attention in this particular area was dangerous.
He was as intrigued as he was perplexed. What the hell was she doing in a rugged place like this? She didn’t fit. She looked too…polished, almost educated. She was a spitfire, determination glinting in her eyes as she opposed the two thugs. The determination intrigued him. That was something he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Zach was still a little stupefied by the alcohol, but when he realized one of the men had spotted him, a burst of adrenaline brought him back into focus, made him razor sharp again. The man’s curious gaze instantly put an end to Zach’s neutral observations.
“If you’ve come to join us, you’ll just have to be satisfied with third place,” one of the men called over to him. “Joey here is first, and I’m not about to take last call. But if’n yer wantin’ some snatch, you could give us a hand.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Zach said, sauntering a little closer.
The woman was still struggling to free herself from the putrid slug that held her arms. Zach drew up beside her just as she was managing to loosen one hand, and was blind-sided by a surprisingly sound cuff to the jaw, which jarred an unpleasant tasting belch loose from a stomach that had been
vehemently protesting his choice in liquor. When he recovered from the recoil, he turned back to look at her, his eyes narrowed in anger. He’d been told once that the blue of his eyes became so brilliant in anger that it would scare the evil out of Lucifer. Apparently, she was not immune. She took one look at his expression and shrank away, seeming to prefer taking her chances with the slug rather than brave someone as scarred and fierce-looking as Zach. Still, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from him.
Zach flinched inwardly when her gaze drifted across his face, following every inch of the scar he so despised. Once, she would have been attracted to him, but now…. She was probably repulsed at the sight of him. Her lingering gaze only fueled his anger. He didn’t like the reminder of what he’d lost, his face, his charm, the promise of women who would have loved to capture his attention.
“Hey, bud! You gonna help, or you just gonna stand there and watch?” the slug bellered.
The woman responded by kicking one booted foot out behind her and catching the scumbag on the
shin. Before the slug even had a chance to react, a knife appeared in her hand, and she whipped around, slicing a wide arc through the air and bearing down on his chest with the blade. The man’s friend saw it coming and moved quickly, knocking the knife out of her hand with one balled fist. She bit off a yelp of pain and swung away from them, even more afraid now that she’d lost her weapon. But it had been an impressive, brave effort on her part, and despite her uncivilized blow to his jaw, Zach decided it was time to lend his efforts to the fight.
In the next instant, both men were on their knees, grasping at their chests as blood seeped around the throwaways imbedded there. Shock registered in their faces and gurgling sounds bubbled from their throats. Zach paid no heed to them. They shouldn’t have been stupid enough to trust him. His eyes were on the girl. But she wasn’t actually a girl, was she? She was a woman. A real woman. A beautiful, clean woman. Something he hadn’t seen in years.
Her mouth was slack with fear, her eyes wary as she watched him. He could almost read her mind. She was afraid she would be his next victim. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she backed away from him. Out of his peripheral vision, he took note of the fact that she was searching the ground with her booted feet as she eased away, obviously hoping she would find her knife lying somewhere in the dirt.
He almost smiled at that. As if she could do any damage with it. She hadn’t even been successful with the two duds who were dying beside her. How could she hope to fell Zach, a man who had planted two knives in two separate men before anyone had even realized what he was doing?
“Looking for this?” he queried, casually bending down and retrieving the knife, although he wasn’t stupid enough to take his eyes off her for a second. She was a hellion, desperate, apt to do anything, and therefore a potential danger.
She glanced nervously at the knife, still backing away, then drew in a sharp gasp of alarm when her back suddenly butted up against the side of the building. She jerked her head to the left, then the right, seeking an escape, but there was none. Having followed her step for step, Zach was already too close, standing mere inches from her. Her breasts nearly brushed against his chest as they rose and fell with each labored breath she took. She whimpered. The sound captivated him, and his gaze automatically fell to her lips. As if in reaction to the shift in his attention, the tip of her tongue snaked out of her rosebud mouth and moistened the luscious petals, causing him to smile. She probably didn’t even realize she’d done it, but the gesture was telling. This was all very intriguing. He was enjoying himself, but not enough to let his guard down.
“Do you work for the Pirates?” he demanded.
Her eyes flew back to his face, pausing briefly on the scar. She stared at him, unable to mask the apprehension in her eyes. She was afraid to answer the question.
“You can tell me, or you can die,” he offered, twisting her own knife around in his hand so the moonlight flashed off the shiny blade. Damn, but she must have put a spit-shine on the thing. Maybe she wasn’t so smart after all. Everyone knew to dull their blades so no light glanced off the metal. A shiny blade was like a beacon, giving one’s opponent a clear warning flash right before the blow, which always gave them the opportunity to deflect it.
“Y-yes,” she managed to whisper.
Zach’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her, noticing the sheen of perspiration along her upper lip and along her brow bone. Such an exquisite face. How had she survived so long? She couldn’t possibly be alone. She was far too beautiful. The Pirates, or someone, would have gotten to her before now, and they wouldn’t have left her intact for long.
“You’re lying,” he said, deliberately matching her whisper.
She started to shake her head, but he reached out and took her firmly by the chin, stopping the action.
“The truth, or die,” he reiterated, his tone casual.
She seemed to draw courage from some inner source because her voice was much steadier when she replied, “You don’t mean it.”
“The hell I don’t,” he growled, pressing the knife to her throat until she let out a little squeak of protest.
“N-no! No. I’m not working with the Pirates,” she croaked out, pressing her body as far back away from him as the wall behind her would allow, her cheeks suddenly pale. “I s-swear.”
He released her. For a moment, she looked as though she might buckle and faint at his feet, but she managed to keep herself upright.
“What are you going to do to me.” She sounded weary now, as if she were resigned to her fate.
“Nothing.” He shrugged, then glanced at the two men who were slumped on the ground behind him.
Both were dead now, their sightless eyes gaping into a distance neither of them could comprehend.
“Then why did you help me?”
“You seemed to need it,” he quipped.
“I thought you w-were….”
When she couldn’t seem to say the words, he finished for her. “I know what you thought.”
“What about those two?” She glanced at the men who had attacked her and then glanced away. It was a gruesome sight for a woman.
“They’ll be all right where they are.”
“Shouldn’t we hide them or something?”
“We?” One jet-black brow went up, and he stared at her questioningly.
“Wouldn’t it be safer?”
“Safer?”
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, and I’m grateful for your help…but my brother always told me—”
“Your brother?” he interrupted. So, that’s how she’d managed to escape society for so long. She had help.
“Yes. My brother.”
