Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) (12 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Susanna gulped as Derren gave her a cold look.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Derren asked his wife.

“She’s the new help,” Bridget said. “You said I could pick one.”

“Why did you have to pick the ugliest one?”

“What does it matter what she looks like? You have me!” Bridget shouted.

And then suddenly it became clear. For all Bridget’s stupidity and drunkenness, she knew what her husband was doing. Before the prisoners showed up, who had he been messing with? The neighbors’ wives? Prostitutes? Probably anyone he could, willing or unwilling. She looked at Bridget with equal parts pity and contempt. The woman was fighting back tears as she glared at her husband.

Derren ignored her. He gestured at Kent, who stood next to Susanna waiting to have his cut tended to.

“What happened to you?” he demanded.

“Tommy hit me!”

“Don’t whine like a little bitch. He hits you, hit him back twice as hard.”

Derren turned to Susanna. Her veins ran with ice.

“What are you waiting for? Patch him up!”

With a trembling hand she gathered up the cotton ball she had dropped, cleaned it in the hot water, and dabbed it on Kent’s cut.

The kid started squalling.

“Shut up!” Derren barked.

The child tensed, his face turning white. He didn’t move a muscle as Susanna finished cleaning his wound and wound a clean cloth around it.

“You keep that on until tomorrow morning, OK?” she whispered.

Kent slouched away without answering.

When she turned to look at the others she found Derren and Bridget sitting at the table, sharing the jug and not looking at one another. Tommy had taken the opportunity to disappear. Neither of his parents seemed to have noticed.

She busied herself with the roast as the room settled into edgy silence. Her mouth watered at the sight of the rich meat and all the trimmings, and her stomach ached to dive into it.

But she knew she wasn’t going to get any. She just hoped that she’d get her share of food once she got back to the barracks. It was getting dark outside and dinner would be served soon. A couple of decent meals had brought back her hunger with a vengeance. She felt like she could eat that entire roast all by herself.

“Is that done yet?” Derren growled.

“Just a minute,” Susanna replied.

“I expect my meals when I get home.”

“If you came home at a regular time they’d be waiting for you,” Bridget said, her voice coming out drunken and tearful.

“I was busy with the prisoners.”

Susanna couldn’t help but look at him then. He was looking right back at her with a smug smile.

I’ll kill you
,
she thought.

As soon as she thought it she knew she was lying to herself. She’d never killed anyone and knew she would never have the strength to, not even someone like Derren. She couldn’t decide if that was weakness or a certain kind of strength. In this world, it was certainly seen as weakness, but it had been people like Derren and Abe who had wrecked the world, dragged it from a civilization with cities and computers and lunar bases to one of dead rivers and acid rain.

Sure, they saw her as weak. Fine. If being decent counted as weakness, then she was proud to be weak.

Without getting up, Bridget told her where to find the plates and utensils and Susanna served dinner. Derren bellowed for his brats, who came slouching out from whatever hiding places they’d bolted into. The family started to eat in silence. Susanna busied herself in the kitchen area.

Once they were done eating, Derren told his wife to take Susanna back to the barracks.

“I’m tired!” Bridget whined. “I cleaned the house and took care of the kids all day. Why can’t you do it?”

“Sat on your ass drinking while watching her work, more like,” Derren grumbled. “But fine, I’ll take her back. I have to have a few words with her.”

Susanna’s heart raced.

“What do you mean?” Bridget demanded.

Derren laughed. He jabbed a thumb in Susanna’s direction. “You got nothing to fear with that one, trust me.”

Bridget snickered. Tommy made oinking noises and pulled up the tip of his nose to imitate a pig. Susanna blushed with shame.

Derren headed for the door, gesturing for Susanna to follow.

“Come on, back to the pigsty.”

They walked out into the late dusk. The first stars glimmered in a clear winter sky. The air felt chill after the warmth of the kitchen. Susanna was glad she still wore Eduardo’s clothes over her own. She buttoned both shirts up to the top buttons and put her hands in her pockets. Derren led her between two of the houses and around a corner.

Without warning he spun on her, grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her against a wall. He leaned his face in close, his teeth bared, mouth twisted in rage. The smell of liquor on his breath made her gag.

He held up a forefinger in front of her face.

“One word. Just one word to my wife about your little slut friend and I’ll cut your throat, you understand me?”

“O. . .OK,” Susanna whispered in a voice almost silenced with terror.

He grinned.

“You shouldn’t worry about her anyway. She knows how to survive. Today she gave me a blowjob for a loaf of bread. She’s still too thin for me to want to screw. Got to fatten her up first.”

Derren let go of her neck and slapped her upside the head.

“Come on, it’s fucking cold out here.”

He turned his back on Susanna and walked toward the barracks. She meekly followed.

As they walked Susanna realized he didn’t have his rifle. Instead he wore a revolver in a holster on his belt. He had his back to her and his gait was a bit unsteady from the drinks. If she was quick she could grab the pistol and shoot him, or hold him at bay and demand that she and the other prisoners be let free.

She hastened her step to close the gap between them. Derren didn’t notice. The gun was right there, just lunge forward and pull it out. Her hand edged forward. . .

. . .and she let it drop. No, she couldn’t shoot someone down in cold blood, not even Derren. She didn’t have it in her.

But I will get out of here. I swear it.

The barracks loomed before them, a slab of dark wood in the deepening shadows. A guard was distributing rations to the prisoners from out of a large pot. Susanna hurried to get in line, desperate not to miss her share. Derren let out a mocking laugh.

“See you tomorrow,” he chuckled, and turned away. Susanna noticed he didn’t head for home.

She got in the line of shuffling prisoners. It was stew tonight. From the smell it was vegetables. She didn’t kid herself to think there might be meat. Everyone got a big ladle full as well as a hunk of bread. Susanna sighed. It was less than Bridget gave her but it was better than nothing.

The guard called out, “From now on you’ll keep your bowl and spoon. You will be responsible for keeping them clean. If you lose them or break them, you’ll be punished.”

She made it to the front of the line, got her bowl and spoon and her share of the food, and went inside to eat it. In the dim light inside she made her way to her bunk, careful not to spill her meal. She sat down and ate. The soup was already tepid but she slurped it down and licked the bowl. It felt like no amount of food would satisfy her.

A voice came out of the darkness.

“Is that you, Susanna?”

“Donna?”

“Yes.”

A dark form moved from deeper shadow and sat down next to her.

“How’s your new job?” Donna asked.

Susanna sighed. She thought of telling her everything and decided against it. Derren’s boast clung to her mind like a smear of filth.

“It’s OK. Cleaning and cooking mostly. How was your work today?”

It was just light enough to see Donna bow her head.

“It was all right,” Donna mumbled.

Susanna edged closer to her friend. “Did that guard bother you again?”

Pause.

“No.”

“He told me—”

Donna’s voice came out despairing. “What does it matter, Susanna? I need to eat.”

“But you could say no, complain to Abe.”

Donna snorted. Susanna realized how foolish her words sounded.

“We’ll survive,” Susanna went on, changing tack. “They won’t let us starve. They need us to work, to build this secret city of theirs. You don’t need to let him do things to you just to get food.”

Donna sighed. “He’ll do those things whether I say yes or not. At least I’m getting something extra to eat. Jeb never gave me anything extra.”

That tight spot inside Susanna clenched a little harder. She stood up, stowed away her bowl and spoon on her top bunk, and climbed into bed without another word. As she wrapped her blanket around her she felt the potato hidden in her shirt.

She pulled it out. From the sounds underneath her she could tell Donna was getting into bed too. The potato was a large one, resting in her hand with a reassuring weight. She had intended to give it to Donna as a gift.

Susanna started gnawing on it, careful to make as little sound as possible in case someone heard and tried to steal her snack from her. Most of all, though, she didn’t want Donna to hear.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The three refugees from the Righteous Horde looked even worse off than the machete men Annette had captured a few days before. Two haggard women and an old guy who was more dead than alive sat in the road in front of $87,953. Their captors, a farming couple, explained to Annette what had happened as a curious crowd gathered.

“We just opened up our farm the day before yesterday,” the farmer said, a shotgun sloped over his shoulder. “Me and the wife brought our livestock back from the New City stockade and found these three huddled in the barn. They’re porters, abandoned like the rest of them. They didn’t have the strength to retreat any further, so they sheltered in the barn and buried themselves under the straw for warmth.”

“And so you brought them here,” Annette said, not sure what to think or feel.

The farmer’s wife chimed in. “We fed them up for a day first. They wouldn’t have made it otherwise. You should have seen them, even weaker than they are now and dirty head to foot. It didn’t seem Christian to turn them out.”

One of the onlookers sneered, “The Pure One says he’s Christian too.”

The woman turned and frowned at him. “Any Christianity that’s rooted in hate is fake Christianity!”

“You don’t know your history. Plenty of messiahs during the City State Wars. And you ever heard of the Knights of Truth? They rebelled against the Third American Republic and almost—”

“Blame is still illegal in my jurisdiction,” Annette snapped. “If you don’t want to get branded and exiled I suggest you shut the fuck up right now.”

The man looked away. Annette breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted to do was brand someone. Deputy Jackson Andrews might have something to say about that. Luckily he was busy dealing with a property dispute between two scavengers on the other side of the Burbs. She turned back to the farming couple.

“So why did you bring them here?” she asked.

The man’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what you wanted? We heard you were taking in refugees.”

Annette grimaced and rubbed her eyes. It was too early in the morning for this shit. Back inside her breakfast was getting cold.

“Actually I was capturing prisoners of war for questioning.”

She looked down at the three refugees. They looked back at her with dead eyes devoid of supplication or hope. She realized that for weeks, months, maybe even years these people had taken all sorts of abuse and expected nothing beyond the basic essentials for survival. Annette knew with a horrible clarity that she could kick that old man in the face, offer him a crust of bread, and he’d happily sit by to get kicked in the face again.

A lot of people would get off on that sort of power. The Pure One sure did. Fly Daddy Bradley would see it as a business opportunity. And imagine what Abe Weissman would do with a bunch of them?

S
hit. I either take them in or kill them now. Those are the only two merciful things to do.

“Pablo,” she said without turning around.

“How did you know I was here?” her son asked from his hiding place at the bar’s front door.

“I can see through walls and I have eyes in the back of my head. That’s why they named me sheriff. Go find Clyde or Uncle Marcus and tell them about this. Tell them we need more barbed wire and another tarp. We have to build a second enclosure.”

“OK,” Pablo said, running off in the direction of New City.

“Why not put them in the pen you already have?” one of the onlookers said.

“Because those are machete men in there. No telling what they’d do.”

“Who cares? They’re all the same,” the man said.

“No. These were slaves.”

“The machete men claim they were slaves too.”

“Slaves with weapons are different than slaves without weapons.”

“So can we go now?” the farmer asked. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, go on,” Annette waved them off. “Thanks for bringing them in.”

I guess.

The couple started walking off. After a few steps the husband stopped and turned.

“Oh, I almost forgot. We passed a scavenger on the way in. He’s got another one of them. He’s bringing her to you.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Pablo returned ten minutes later. Annette still stood outside the bar with her new prisoners, and the crowd still hung around gaping at them. The refugees hadn’t budged, being too tired to move, and barely acknowledged the jeers from some of the angrier members of the crowd. Luckily those were few. The prisoners were too pathetic looking to arouse much rage.

“I found Uncle Marcus and Clyde in the operations center. Did you know Clyde as a telescope up there? He let me look through it. You can see—”

“Pablo, I’m busy.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re going to make an enclosure next to the wall. Clyde wasn’t happy though.”

“What did he say?”

“I could tell you but then you’d get mad at me for swearing.”

Annette grinned and tousled his hair. Just then a murmur from the crowd made her turn.

A scavenger led a woman down the street. She had a fresh bruise on her cheek and a tear-streaked face. She was younger than the other two female prisoners.

“You Sheriff Cruz?” the scavenger asked.

“Yeah.”

“I hear you’re taking in the people left behind by the Righteous Horde.”

“Looks like I am. Where did you find her?”

The scavenger glanced at Pablo.

“Pablo, go inside,” Annette said.

Her son stepped into the bar.

“Pablo, go inside for real.”

“OK,” he said from behind the door.

Annette cocked her head and listened as his footsteps faded away into the interior of the building.

The scavenger moved up close to Annette, who wrinkled her nose. A lot of scavengers were none too familiar with the concept of bathing.

“I was headed for the mountains to get back to a cache of stuff I hid. Was going to bring it back here to trade and then sit out the winter in my tent. Anyway, I came across a camp of other scavengers. Figured I’d join them. Safety in numbers, you know.”

Annette nodded. “I know.”

“They had her with her. Captured her a couple of days ago. Had her stripped and tied to a tree.”

Annette’s stomach turned. How many times during her years wandering in the wildlands had men tried to do that to her? How many times had she killed to keep that from happening? The scavenger went on.

“They offered to give me a turn for some trade. That’s not the way I am. Well, I have a gun and they didn’t. So I took her away and brought her back here.”

“You know their names? The men who did this?”

“No. Sorry. I’d recognize them, though. If they winter here I’ll point them out to you.”

Annette only nodded. Before the scavenger left he gave the woman a small bag. She murmured a thank you and opened it. Mechanically she started eating the dried fruit it contained.

Annette turned to the crowd. “OK, spread the word. I’ll post a notice today but I want you to start telling everybody. We’re taking in any member of the Righteous Horde who surrenders. Anyone caught keeping one of them for their own. . .uses. . .will be charged with kidnapping. Now move along.”

There were a few grumbles from the back of the crowd, but none from those who stood closer. They had overheard the scavenger’s story.

Clyde came over with a scowl on his face that softened when he saw the four new prisoners. What Annette guessed was going to be a tirade about giving aid and comfort to the enemy turned into a muted grumble about the extra expense of more hungry mouths.

The next hour was spent building a new enclosure near the wall but well away from the machete men. Jackson managed to borrow an old sail from one of the fishermen to make a shelter. A market trader who had heard the story gave the rape victim a blanket and offered to take her into her own home. Annette was tempted but finally said no. She couldn’t accept the liability of having a member of the Righteous Horde wandering loose around town.

Once the four were enclosed in wire and were picking clean a cold chicken the market trader brought over, Annette scrounged some old magazines that had faded enough that they could be written over and posted her new announcement all over the Burbs. She stuck one on the wall next to New City gate as well. The guard objected but Clyde overruled him.

As she was walking away from the gate she spotted Pablo talking to Jeb through the barbed wire.

“Pablo! Get over here right this instant!”

Her son came running over, looking guilty as hell.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“He’s a baseball star. He was giving me tips.”

“You know better than to go talk to someone like that!”

“I stayed out of reach.”

Annette couldn’t help but smile. The kid had seen enough in the Burbs that he knew how to take care of himself. He had been in no real danger. But Pablo didn’t have her automatic suspicion of everyone’s motives. He’d been raised in the Burbs, not the wildlands, and still had a bit of innocence left. That was why she had settled here in the first place.

“Don’t go near him again, you got that?”

“OK,” he said, looking glumly at his feet.

“What did he say to you, anyway? Did he call you over?”

“No.”

“So what did he say to you?”

“I asked him for some tips. He told me how to carve a better bat.”

“Did he offer to make you one himself?”

Pablo looked at her like she was stupid.

“No. He’d need a knife for that and I’m not going to give him one.”

Annette laughed. “That’s my boy! Go run along now, and don’t talk to him again, OK?”

“All right.”

Annette looked long and hard at the prisoner. He nodded in acknowledgement and then turned away. What was he up to? Annette shook her head. She had to stop being so suspicious of everyone. Hell, she’d even doubted Marcus. This machete man had saved her life, had begged to be allowed to stay. Was it so strange that he wanted to talk about baseball with a kid? He was grasping for some normality in his life, just like she had when she first moved here.

Yeah, she should give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed like an OK guy deep down.