Nobody's Hero

N
obody's Hero
: A Burned Lands Novel

Copyright © 2016 by Bec McMaster

All rights reserved.

Edited by: Hot Tree Editing

Print formatting by: Cover Me Darling

Cover Art (c) Damonza.com

F
or
Byron

W
astelands
, 2147

T
HE SUN POOLED
red on the horizon, the last spears of sunlight slashing across the sky, and then fading. Night was coming, and with it the need to be home. Before the monsters came out to play.

Riley slid down over the rock, easing her body cautiously onto the ledge below. In the distance, a last glimmer of light reflected off something shiny across the desert floor. It could have been merely a shard of glass half-smashed out of some old rust bucket that no longer ran, but Riley didn’t think so. Once a graveyard of cars, most of them had been hauled away for spare parts, or scrap by the roaming bands of reivers.

The only things out here now were cactus, hop sage, and tumbleweed. And the sand. Always the bloody sand.

“What is it?” Jimmy whispered, peering over the edge of the tor.

Riley frowned into the distance, her spyglass in hand. Gauging the distance carefully, she leapt across a gaping chasm in the rock and landed on the very edge of the plateau. Without anything to block her view, the Wastelands stretched before her endlessly, filling the world from horizon to horizon. Her father once said there were cities on the other side of the Great Divide that split the continent, but Riley couldn't imagine it. Living out here in the barren Wastelands, in their guarded little settlement, was the only life she’d ever known.

Peering through the spyglass, her vision catapulted forward. She soon found the cause of the reflection—an old jeep, fitted with a gun turret, a pair of vigilantes riding in the tray. Heavily armored in salvaged scrap, and covered in scarred tattoos, the pair looked hard and mean. Riley swore under her breath. “Damn it.”

“What?” Jimmy asked from above. “Wargs? Reivers?” Pebbles rained down over her as he shifted nervously.

“Reivers,” she confirmed, scanning the desert floor. Her heart started to pound as she swept the spyglass over the canyon below. They were heading east. Toward Haven. Her sanctuary was the only settlement out this far, and the only reason for the vultures to risk the dangerous canyon track.

Riley froze as movement flickered through the lens of the spyglass. She jerked it back, disbelief flooding her with a sickening feeling as another pair of jeeps swept into view. With gasoline sources getting low, it was rare for so many vehicles to be out this far.

Unless they were planning on hitting the settlement.

Hard.

Maybe they knew about the gasoline shipment that Haven had just received from the Eastern Confederacy?

“Shit.” She waited long enough to count the men – thirteen – before jerking her head up.

Jimmy’s pale face came into view, his eyes wide. “Scouting party?”

Riley shook her head grimly. She’d known this day would come. This side of the Great Divide, resources were becoming few and far between. Every month of radio vigilance brought fewer settlements checking in; the previous month, the settlement of New Hope, just forty miles north, had been hit. Since then, there’d been no word from Tom and Jenny, or the rest of the settlers she’d come to know over the radio.

The kid’s face paled further. “It’s crazy hitting the settlement at night, what with the wargs out there.”

“We’re talking about reivers. Sanity’s not really a priority when it comes to membership. Come on.” She tucked the spyglass in her leather bag and slung it over her shoulder. “We’ve got to get back to the jeep and warn them.” As Jimmy made to dash after her, she jerked her hand. “Don’t forget the rocs.”

The reason they’d been out there. Much-needed food. Not even the threat of reivers could make her forget the brace of dead birds they’d spent the day scaling the cliffs to catch.

Running lightly across the rock, she found the rappel rope they’d used to climb up to where the enormous birds nested. Hooking her carabiner onto the ropes, and then checking her climbing harness and descender, she waited long enough to make sure Jimmy wasn’t at risk of falling before she took a deep breath and edged over the cliff.

“Here we go,” she muttered, and leapt backward.

The descent was short and took her breath away. She was used to scaling the heights – either for sentry duty or to get at the massive rocs that nested at the top of the tor – but she’d never descended quite this quickly.

Jimmy was quick to follow, his eyes almost bugging out of his head at the drop. Riley caught him, her gloved hand riding over his harness as he safely put both feet on the ground. The red glow of dusk was starting to fade. In the east, streaks of indigo discolored the sky. They’d been out too long, but pickings were starting to get slim now that winter was edging over the continent.

Not that you'd know it, thanks to the blistering heat the week had brought.

“Leave the ropes,” she instructed, slinging the pair of birds over her shoulder and starting for the jeep. The nestlings had to weigh at least 50 pounds, but she was used to hauling her weight up the cliffs, let alone a pair of dead birds.

“Here, you’d best drive.” Jimmy called, tossing her the keys as they reached the jeep.

Riley snatched them out of the air and tossed the brace of birds in the tray, next to the warg cage. At seventeen, this was his first trip out foraging. By the look on his face, he’d be lucky if he didn’t put them into a ditch or blow a tire if he drove. Shimmying out of the harness, she stripped off her gloves and threw them both in the back next to the cage.

The jeep gave a coughing grunt, but finally started. With the winding track through the canyon below, they had a good thirteen-mile head start on the reivers.

Hopefully, it would be enough. She’d heard tales of what happened to people caught out in the Wastelands by the reiver gangs. Especially women.

Ignoring the cold finger that trailed down her spine, she jammed the jeep into reverse and spun backward. Tires crunching over the gravel, Riley shifted gears, hit the gas, and they rocketed forward.

“What do you reckon they want?” Jimmy asked, grabbing for the door handle to hold on.

Riley tossed him the radio receiver. “Same thing as anybody out here. Food, potable water, shelter. Women. Here. Try and contact Haven.”

Jimmy played with the dial, static crackling over the speakers. His lips compressed in a grim line she didn’t miss as mile upon mile of static greeted them. Finally, the line cleared, and he let out a breath. “Ranger one to base, do you copy?”

The light was fading fast, leaving bushes and rocks as shadows. Riley peered ahead, wondering whether she dared put the headlights on. The reivers weren’t the only threat out there. And she’d lead them straight to Haven if she did.

But better to get home alive than crash in a gulch.

“Base, do you copy?”

Riley flicked the lights on.

A man appeared out of nowhere. She caught a glimpse of naked skin, faded blue jeans, and a mess of black hair, and then she was tearing at the wheel. Jimmy screamed as the brakes kicked in. Gravel sprayed, but it was too late. The jeep hit with a thud and the man flipped up over the hood, smashing into the front window before disappearing.

Gripping the wheel with white-knuckled hands, Riley slowly blinked as the dust cleared. Her heart felt like it was going to thump its way through her chest, and her lungs were tight.
Holy shit.

Jimmy looked up, blood dripping from his temple. “Did we just hit someone?”

Who the hell would be out here at this time of night?
Riley sucked in a huge breath, her first since the impact. The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. “Give me the shotgun.”

Ripping off her safety belt, she slid the small handgun out of the side holster that had been customized to the seat, tossing it to Jimmy. The front window was a mess, but somehow the glass still held. She couldn’t see a thing through it, so keeping it wasn’t an option. Wasn’t as if it was going to keep the nightlife out anyway.

Grabbing the shotgun off Jimmy, she smashed the window out. The desert night was quiet. Still. Holding her breath, she scanned the horizon. Nothing moved.

“Stay in the jeep,” Riley ordered. “If I give the signal, you start it up and drive like blazes.”

Jimmy swallowed. He knew the drill. “Want me to keep trying the radio?”

“Won’t hurt.” Though she knew chances were slim they’d be heard now. Whoever was supposed to be on duty was obviously elsewhere. Maybe Warren or Viv. Both had strayed from the radio control room in the past.

Nobody else was that stupid.

Riley's boots crunched on the gravel as she stepped out, holding the shotgun warily in front of her. It was loaded with exploding rounds she’d doctored herself; no point shooting to warn when the night was just as likely to rip your throat out.

“Hello?” she called. “You alive back there?”

The taillights cast a ruddy glow. Beyond that, she couldn’t see shit. And there was no answer.

“Jimmy, hand me the goggles.”

He tossed them to her and she dragged them over her head, the nightscape suddenly springing to life around her with green-tinted accuracy. They'd cost her half a year's rations three years ago, when the traders came through, but they were worth it. And Riley could hunt, so it hadn't left her hungry for long.

A pair of bare feet lay motionless behind the vehicle, blood splashed across his jeans.

“M-maybe we should go. Just leave him there," Jimmy stammered.

Tempting. Riley weighed her options – and the shotgun. She was running out of time to warn the settlement. But her father had always cautioned her not to lose her humanity. The rest of the world might be torn apart and broken, but they had to hold onto their souls out here, or risk becoming just as empty as the wargs themselves.

“We leave him here and he’s as good as dead,” she muttered, inching toward the back of the jeep. There was no sign of the cat-shine of animal eyes out there, but they wouldn’t be far away. The sun had gone, and a few stars flickered in the sky. Time for the wargs to come out and play.

Pumping a round into the chamber, Riley stepped around the vehicle, aiming it at the prone man. “Hey. You alive?”

No movement. She kicked his foot, and it rolled to the side then back with not a hint of muscular tension.

“Shit.” There was blood everywhere. A massive gash slashed across his chest, and hints of bruising darkened his ribs. Thick, dark hair blackened his scalp, but his face was turned away from her. Pewter glinted on his chest. A charm of some sort, vaguely native.

Nausea flooded through her. She’d killed a man.

Not the first time she’d ever killed – but wargs didn’t count. Their humanity was long gone, stolen by the flesh-hunger that ravaged them. Monsters, her father had called them. And there was no guilt in hunting down the monsters that consumed this world. Man or beast.

“He’s not moving,” she called, lifting the goggles onto her head. “Start the jeep. Let’s get going–”

And that was when she noticed it: the ragged edges of the gash in his chest were re-knitting at an almost visible rate.
What the hell...?
She took a step closer. Wargs healed fast, but with the moon edging over the horizon they wouldn’t be able to contain their beast-form like this.

Reaching out with the shotgun, she used it to turn his face toward her.

Mid-thirties maybe. Chiseled jaw. Rough dark stubble, and skin that glowed under the harsh red light of the rear lights. The kind of face that made her hesitate, just for a moment....

Then his eyes shot open, the light catching them and reflecting back silvery-red. A smile stretched over his lips, immediately devilish. “Surprise,” he whispered.

Riley’s stomach dropped, and she leapt back with a curse. “Gun, Jimmy! It’s a warg!”

In the seconds it took to yell, the stranger rolled onto his feet. Fluid. Lithe. Almost too fast to see. Riley shoved the shotgun up, but the warg smashed it out of the way, following up with a kick that swept her feet out from under her.

She hit the ground hard. The breath exploded from her lungs and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The goggles were gone. Lungs burning, Riley choked on nothing, her hands still clenched desperately around the shotgun. If she lost that then she was dead.

And Jimmy too.

Jimmy
! Her eyes went wide. She wanted to scream at him to get behind the wheel and get the hell out of here, but she couldn’t.

“Riley! Get away from her, you monster!” Jimmy’s voice, coming out of the dark like some teen crusading-angel.

No
! She’d promised Mabel that she wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Her lungs suddenly opened, and oxygen rushed back in on a gasp. It burned, all the way through. A hand fisted in her hair and the stranger hauled her to her feet, dragging her back against his solid chest. His arm cut across her throat, threatening to choke her, and then he tilted her face to the side, exposing the vulnerable column of her neck. Four sharp little points dug into her skin.

Claws.

Riley froze.

“Not another step, boy wonder.” The voice was rough and low. A hint of amusement edged it. “Or I’ll rip her throat open.”

She could just see Jimmy out of the corner of her vision, the gun pointed at them wavering as confusion crossed his face. He was too young for this shit, but he knew his orders. Knew what he was supposed to do in the event that his partner was captured.

“Get back... in the jeep,” Riley told him, gasping the words. Easier to make the decision for him. “And get the hell out of here. Report to base.”

Where Mabel could wrap him in her arms as he cried for the partner he’d lost. They all went through it. Out here, on the edge of the Wastelands, not a man or woman amongst them hadn’t watched someone else die.

The claws pricked her and she froze, not daring to move. One cut, one bite, and there was a chance of his curse spreading - a fate worse than death.

“You’re not the one calling the shots, sweetheart.” A slight Southern drawl. “What’s your name, boy?”

“J..-Jimmy.”

“Nice lookin’ warg cage there on the back of the jeep.” That was definitely laughter in his voice. She could feel the rumble of it through his chest. “You ever caught a warg before?”