E j deen, p.5
E. J. Deen, page 5
Perhaps because the perspiration, added to the heat of the swamp, was so irritating, or perhaps because she was staring so intently at him. Had he cried out? Had he been moaning in his sleep? Did she know?
Did she know he’d been having that damn recurring nightmare again?
He stared back at her for a long time. She didn’t even blink. Annoyed, he rolled over, turning his back to her so he wouldn’t have to look at her, so he wouldn’t have to see that curious expression on her young face. Damn, what an innocent she was. He felt sorry for her. She had no future. There was no future left in this fucking place.
On the other side of the clearing, the girl remained silent. For a short time, he wondered about her, tried to feel what she must be feeling, tried to imagine what it had been like for her, to be raped and beaten and starved. Had she been terrified? Had the pain been unbearable? What was she thinking now? Was she in torment, or had she learned to block out the suffering, like he had learned to do?
The sound of a twig snapping somewhere nearby brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt. Instantly alert, he rolled back over to see if it was the girl getting up, maybe to relieve herself. She was still lying in the same position, the only noticeable change being the slight widening of her eyes. She had heard the noise too, and she was afraid.
Frozen, Zach listened intently to the rustling noise that came from the woods beyond the clearing. It sounded too heavy to be a coon, far too light to be a bear. If the intruder was a man, he was a small man, perhaps a wiry one. A cajun maybe? Damn, but they were dangerous.
The rustling stopped for a moment, then started again, this time even closer. His eyes went to the girl’s face, and he saw her mouth opening as if she were about to give in to her natural urge to scream. He put a warning finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. She immediately obeyed, stifling the scream as she clamped her mouth shut. She obviously trusted him, but she was scared and he didn’t know how long she would be able to remain silent.
He had learned long ago never to sleep without a weapon handy, and his bow and quiver lay just behind him, beneath the leaves. Cautiously, making as little noise as possible, he felt around for them. Even without looking, it only took him a second to find the quiver. He had the arrow notched before the next twig snapped, and when it came, the sound gave him the perfect target. Poised on his haunches, he remained vigilant, ready to make the kill at a moment’s notice. But he didn’t let the arrow fly. Not yet.
He never had been the type to shoot blindly into the dark before he knew what enemy he faced. Not since his mother had been so unjustly murdered. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take the chance of accidentally killing an innocent woman or a child. Whoever was out there might be seeking help, and he had to take that into consideration before he fired willy-nilly.
When a dog stepped into the clearing, Zach momentarily relaxed the fingers that were wrapped around the bowstring. It was just a damn dog! He would have been relieved, but he knew better than to hope the hound was safe. A dog in the woods was not unusual, but a wild or hungry animal could prove dangerous. The mutt could be rabid. Or worse, he could have a master close on his heels.
The animal paused and eyed them with apprehension before going to snuffle around the girl. Serena sat perfectly still as the dog sniffed her hair. Zach tightened his grip on the bow, keeping the canine in his sights, waiting, waiting….
Zach studied the animal intently. It was a domestic breed, not that any dog was truly domestic anymore.
Like everything else, they had all gone wild after the revolt. Still, it looked tame enough.
The dog raised its head and looked his way, as if to make sure Zach posed no threat, then turned back to give the girl another curious sniff. The animal didn’t seem to mean her any harm.
Zach’s eyes were drawn to Serena’s face. To his surprise, she wasn’t watching him anymore. All her attention was fixed on the dog, and Zach detected a slight gleam of awe in her gaze.
Steering well away from Zach, the mutt made a quick pass around the clearing and then went to sniff the Hummer. Lowering his bow just slightly, Zach waited, his eyes piercing through the darkness beyond the clearing, searching for the canine’s owner. The mutt let out a sudden yip and rushed the girl.
Thinking the dog might intend to attack her, Zach raised the bow again, aiming straight for the animal’s heart. Before he could let the arrow fly, the girl startled him by uttering her first word since he’d found her.
“No!” she wailed.
Zach lifted his head away from the bow’s sight and stared at her in surprise.
“Don’t,” she begged, her eyes pleading with him. Her voice was hoarse, barely discernible. Her throat was obviously raw, probably from the beating she had received at the hands of the Pirates. She must have screamed it ragged.
Zach faltered, his gaze sliding back to the dog. The animal wagged his tail, its tongue lolling out of one side of its mouth as the girl’s hands stroked its matted fur.
“Please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I think he likes me.”
Damn, damn, damn, he silently cursed. That was all he needed, a fucking dog tagging along behind them, making enough noise to wake the dead, alerting anyone and everyone to their progress through the swamps.
“We can’t keep him,” Zach said, his bow still raised and aimed at the dog.
The girl started to cry harder.
“You don’t understand,” he growled, his eyebrows slamming together in a frown of anger and
frustration. “He could be dangerous.”
“I don’t th-think he’d hurt anyone. He s-seems to l-like me,” she hiccupped, fat tears rolling down her bruised face.
When his eyes drifted over those bruises again, bruises that were standing out starkly against her pale cheeks, he almost gave in. The idea was beyond stupid. It could jeopardize both their lives. But he was fast weakening to her mournful gaze.
“We can’t keep him,” he repeated.
“Mister, please. I’ve never had a dog before,” she whimpered. “You c-can’t kill him. L-look at him. He likes me.”
Zach glanced back at the dog. It was lying next to her now, looking for all the world like it was born to be there, obviously enjoying the affection she offered. Zach didn’t like the notion. It was a big dog, some sort of mixed breed, and it would be difficult to handle during the trip.
“I’ve never had anything like me this way before. Not like this,” she murmured, gazing at the dog in adoration.
Reluctantly, Zach lowered his bow, although he continued to eye the mutt with some suspicion. He could understand her need, especially if she’d never known what it was like to have the unconditional love of a pet, but he didn’t know about this particular dog. The mangy thing had come from nowhere, and there was still the uncomfortable possibility that it had an owner lurking somewhere nearby. That didn’t seem likely, though. The animal didn’t appear to be well fed. Maybe he should reconsider. The dog seemed to make the girl happy, and if a pet could make her forget about what had happened to her back at that shanty, perhaps he was worth keeping around. After all, the appearance of the fleabag had made her speak, and Zach had thought that was an impossibility.
“He’s your responsibility,” he gruffly capitulated. “The minute he becomes a problem, I’ll put an arrow through him, understand?”
Serena rewarded him with a bright smile, her first since her rescue, and nodded her agreement, then snuggled back down in her blanket, the dog nestled close beside her.
Zach stared at the twosome. Christ, he was either getting more stupid as he aged or he was getting soft.
Neither thought pleased him any.
“I’m gonna regret this,” he grumbled to himself.
He scowled at the dog, then said, “I’m going to survey the area. Don’t go anywhere.”
She nodded.
This time he had no doubt she would obey him. He got to his feet and crossed the clearing. As he was passing by the two, the dog wagged its tail. Zach paused and put the tip of his boot on the end of the ratty butt-handle to keep it from rustling the leaves. The noise sounded like gunshots exploding into the night. Of course, that was just an illusion caused by the intense quiet of the woods around them, but it unnerved him all the same. He couldn’t abide even the tiniest noise.
When his boot touched the dog’s tail, the canine’s ears flattened down and his furry brows wrinkled in humble apology. The animal looked so damn humble that it almost made Zach smile.
“Hangdog,” he murmured, still looking down at the animal.
The girl immediately drew a protective arm around her new pet, as if Zach were threatening the dog’s life again.
“You should call him Hangdog,” he explained to her. “He looks so hangdog.”
When it became apparent that he didn’t intend to hang the dog by its scrawny neck, she relaxed. But her gaze was one of puzzlement.
“Haven’t you ever heard that expression before?”
She shook her head.
Zach didn’t bother to explain, just walked off into the darkness, the bow and quiver clutched in one callused hand. Stealthily, he made a thorough sweep of the area, periodically checking the clearing to make sure the girl was okay. When he was certain no human accompanied the dog, he returned to the campsite. The girl was fast asleep, cuddled close to the mutt. The animal hadn’t budged an inch.
Having chosen its new owner with care and precision, it seemed perfectly at ease. Damn dog. He was no fool. He’d known who would readily accept him.
Zach went back to his place on the opposite side of the dead fire, but he was too restless to go back to sleep. He couldn’t. It was no good to even try. He was much too wary now.
Resigned to another sleepless night, he propped against the nearest tree, his bow balanced across his knees, and stared out into the night. As soon as dawn began to lighten the sky, he would look for breakfast. For the moment, he was left to just sit there, alone, apprehensive and alert, ready to act without hesitation.
But the dream still haunted him, set him on edge. All those questions that had never been answered.
They were always there, making demands on him. Even now, it seemed impossible that he had
survived at all. Why had he been allowed to live? Why hadn’t one of those bullets pierced his heart and drained the life out of him that day? It would have been simpler for him.
In a way, he felt like he was dead. The walking dead. He existed. That’s all.
He frowned at the darkness. No. There was still a spark there. Somewhere deep inside. Though he denied it, he still wanted something out of this life. He still yearned.
God, to feel young again. To laugh. To be happy. He wanted it, ached for it. All of it. He wanted to live again. Really live.
With a weary sigh, he rested his head against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes. No use hoping.
He couldn’t allow himself to hope. It would only make him weak. And, by God, he was not willing to be weak. Not ever again.
5
Smack in the middle of bayou country, a complex of small shacks and buildings lay hidden.
Surrounded by swamp, it was the perfect place to secrete anything of value or importance. No one in their right mind ventured into the swamps of Louisiana. That is, not unless they had a death wish. Most people were afraid of what they might encounter, and Cajuns were at the top of the list. They were an intimidating group. But the cajuns who resided in this particular bayou had an agenda that only a handful of people knew about, an agenda that made them all the more dangerous. They made up a vast part of Doc Folson’s army. Their job was to protect the site of his precious operation. They were a loyal following that would do anything to further the cause, even kill. Or die.
Zach only managed to get through the booby traps that were scattered throughout the forest with the help of the guide who met him on the road. Coon-ass was his name. Zach knew him well. He was one of Doc’s most loyal, a tall, muscular man with solid shoulders and a kick-ass demeanor. He was a powerhouse, built to take a lot of pain, but inside he was a teddy bear.
Zach knew nearly everyone in Doc’s army, and they all knew him. Otherwise, his throat would have been slit before he got anywhere near Folson’s hideout. But with the help of the guide, he, the girl, and the damn dog were able to travel safely through the swamp. As they progressed, silent sentinels stepped out of carefully camouflaged hiding places to give him a nod of greeting, then disappeared into the vegetation again. Without Coon-ass, they would all be dead now. Even Zach didn’t know where all the traps were. He wasn’t around enough to know, and they were moved on a regular basis.
Doc’s was a delicate yet deadly operation. An operation that was important to all humanity, whether they knew it or not. Years before, out of the chaos of the revolt, Doc Folson had managed to salvage much of his research and at least part of his equipment. What hadn’t been saved had been obtained through any means possible. Some purchased from the Pirates. Some traded. Some stolen. Even killing to obtain a piece of test equipment was a possibility that was never overlooked. In fact, Doc’s army rarely stopped at doing so.
Doc had been one of the researchers studying the GV-3 virus, a genius caught in government
bureaucracy. He was a brilliant, highly acclaimed scientist who had given up his entire life to study the virus. Fed up with government red tape, he had eventually branched out into a privately funded facility that was damn near hidden from the public. His lab had been the last to be hit during the revolt. He’d been on the verge of a breakthrough when all hell broke loose, and the ensuing war stopped his research cold.
The chaos hadn’t ended his hope of finding a vaccine or a cure. Zach had the utmost confidence in him.
If anyone could find a cure, Doc could. Doc was too damn determined to give up. With a little
assistance from his friends, he continued the research, all in secrecy. It was the only way. He would be killed if any one of the Hunters discovered what he was doing. If that were ever to happen, there would be no hope left to the world. And hope was what made Doc tick.
Doc called his future cure the G-code Messiah. The genetically engineered savior of the world. In many ways, Zach was his key to that future.
The complex of buildings sat in the middle of a swampy region, the structures raised up out of the water by stilts and pilings, a labyrinth of docks and board walkways linking it all together. It was quiet out there, remote. Almost serene. It was the most protected area in the swamp, and Zach always felt relaxed and peaceful whenever he was there.
Serena seemed intrigued, and as they stepped up onto the board walkway that led into the midst of the complex, she gazed around her in awe. An egret roosted on a distant cypress stump, so still that it almost looked like a statue. Hangdog paused for a better look, his ears pricked in interest. Zach nudged him forward with his boot and was relieved when Hangdog obeyed. Any ruckus from the dog and
Coon-ass would kill the mutt.
As they drew near to the centermost buildings, a thin, blond man stepped out a side door and glanced up. When he saw Zach, he broke into a grin that smoothed the serious lines in his face, and
immediately came out to meet them.
“Zach! I’ll be damn! What the hell are you doing here in Louisiana?” he called. “Not bad news, I hope.”
Doc’s eyes fell on the bruised face of the girl beside Zach. He faltered for a moment, the twinkle in his eyes fading in the wake of a sudden rise of confusion, but then he recovered himself enough to give her a reassuring smile.
“I brought you another charity case,” Zach said. “She needs to be tested.”
Doc gave him a searching gaze.
“She was kidnapped by a group of renegade Pirates,” Zach reluctantly explained. He hadn’t wanted to mention it in front of the girl, but he’d been given no choice.
Doc gave a slight nod, signaling that Zach need say no more. He understood perfectly well what had happened. Turning to the girl, he asked, “What’s your name?”
Pretending a sudden interest in the boards at her bare feet, Serena fiddled with the thin rope Zach had given her to use as a lead for the dog, obviously a little nervous in the presence of so many fierce-looking men.
When she didn’t answer him, Doc tried again. “Is this your dog?”
She looked up then and met his gaze fully before nodding in answer.
“How’d you manage to come by a dog?”
“He found me,” Serena answered, her voice thin and quavery, evidence of her anxiety.
Doc looked surprised. “And Zach let you keep him?”
She gave him another nod.
“What’s his name?”
Serena automatically reached for the mutt, her fingers caressing the canine’s matted fur. Zach stared at the hand she had buried in the dog’s coat. He understood the gesture for what it was. She was drawing comfort from the dog more so than she was giving it.
“Hangdog,” she finally answered.
Zach felt that odd sensation in his cheeks again, the tug of a smile that never quite made it to completion. He was secretly pleased that she liked the name he had given the dog.
Serena watched in open curiosity as Doc chuckled over the moniker. She didn’t seem afraid anymore.
Over the past few days, she’d grown dependent on Zach’s presence. She had learned to trust him, and she knew there was nothing to fear as long as he was beside her. She obviously felt that he was formidable enough to handle any threat.
“The name suits him,” Doc said. “He looks awfully hangdog.”
Serena managed what could have been taken for a smile—considering her upper lip was so swollen from the beating she had endured, it was hard to tell—and rather shyly looked away when Doc
instantly returned the smile. Despite her bashful tendency, she watched with interest when Doc bent down to give her pet a thorough examination. Like a mother with a new child, Zach thought to himself.
She wanted to take part in every aspect of her dog’s existence.
