Vile Wasteland (A Post Apocalyptic Novel) (13 page)

"Kind of impossible not to," she folded the envelope and
stuffed it in her pocket with the rest of her credits, giving him a
soft stare. "Look, if there’s anything you think of that
you can do, I’m probably going to be around for a while. Seeds,
food, whatever... But otherwise, thanks. Who was it taking out the
Viles?"

With a simple smile he said, "A mercenary. Ah, you can ask my
secretary for the name if you wish," he feigned ignorance at the
man’s name.

Giving her another look over he added, "In the meantime,
while we sort out our problems, you could do yourself a favour and
spend some time with me, you know? It’s no use to waste your
time fretting about something you can’t influence when you
could be working on a future of some kind." The old man was
persistent at least.

She really did feel a bit bad, and a lot angry, at the man, and
squeezed his hand, "Until they’re fed, I don’t think
there’s anything in the world that can shut my worry up. Thanks
so much for everything, though," she took a step back, patting
her pocket. "I know how to get in if I need to see you again."

Looking displeased with her refusal he bowed his head and went to
the door, opening it for her, "Good luck, madam. You know where
to go if you decide you truly need something bad enough."

"I do," she gave him one last look before ducking out
the door, scurrying to put distance between the two of them. She felt
her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to get some fresh air.

Having left the sleazy old man behind, she exited into the light
of day. It was already mid-afternoon according to her forearm
display, having spent most of her time dealing with merchants, Jarago
and then that old pervert.

She almost felt like she needed another bath, but instead she
headed right towards the bar Grent stayed at, feeling the burn of
anger and embarrassment in her cheeks and chest. She needed someone
warm and comforting, and helpful.

Entering the bar she found him at his usual booth, a heap of fried
wings and some crisp vegetable she wasn’t familiar with in a
couple of baskets before him. The handsome man saw her coming about
the moment she entered and was already placing an order for more food
and drink before she could get to him.

With a wipe of his hands upon a towel he stood up and greeted her,
moving to embrace her in a casual but tender gesture before she had a
chance to do anything else. "I got good news," he said.

Her body, everything, just immediately relaxed. She even felt that
anger melt away and be replaced by tender affection, and she moved
into the booth next to him, rather than across. Licking her lips, she
wondered if she should tell him she already knew, but decided not to
rob him of that pleasure, "What’s up?"

Smiling at the sight of her sliding in on his side rather than
across from him, he put his arm around her and resumed eating. One
thing the man did was pack food away. He shoved his basket towards
her, "Help yourself, there’ll be more here for you
shortly," he explained.

"And the news?" He smiled to her lightly, not the smug
smile of Jarago or the sleazy look of Kenir, just a pleasant happy
smile she knew only meant he was delighted to tell her good news.
"Had the meeting with the town leader, like I told you, and...
he’s hired me to look into what happened to their supplies. A
big job. Very big. Once I check out the Vile camp, I’ll have
authority to put together a group, if the situation warrants it, to
go reclaim the stuff."

She shifted closer to him, picking at the food hungrily as they
spoke, "Awesome. How long you think it’s gonna take? Can I
help? I mean, I can spot my bag a mile away, and I’d love to
get revenge on that asshole that took it."

Even in the sweet moment between them, she noticed there were eyes
upon them. Especially as the serving woman came by and gave her a
pointed look. Grent was known here, as she put it, and he was not
known–it seemed–to share company. The fact he had his arm
around her and was sharing his food seemed something very noteworthy.

Pushing the fresh basket of wings and fried vegetable flakes to
her, he took a sip of his drink and pondered. "Hard to say how
long," he began, though the furrow in his brow showed he was
considering her urgent nature. "I’ll go right away though
to scout it out, so I don’t waste time."

Looking back to her he sized her up, a faint smile forming, "You
really feel up to a scouting mission on the Viles’ home turf?"
He was obviously pleased by her offering, though the seasoned fighter
was cautious. "You’ve had a run in with them, but you’ve
only gotten a glimpse of how horrible they can be, Alex," he
warned, not trying to dissuade her, but showing concern.

"We won’t be fighting, just checking things out, right?
I mean, there might be some fighting, but it’s not like we’re
going to be running in guns blazing. I’m pretty good at that,"
she said confidently. "Probably better at that than I would be
fighting them. Besides, you can fill me in, right? And I’ll
stay within your line of sight, but I don’t want you watching
me and not them, alright?" She didn’t want him getting
hurt because of her. "Won’t let our emotions fuck us up,
right?" her voice was stern.

Grent’s broad face seemed on the verge of breaking out into
a wide smile. She could tell he loved the idea of sharing his work
with her, at the same time it made him worry.

Leaning over he kissed her forehead, "You’re on a
timer, right? So we don’t have a lot of time to debate this
out," he devoured another chicken wing then washed it down as
well. "I’m gonna set out in a couple hours." He
looked back to her, "You got the stomach for that? Only gonna
give us enough time to make sure you’re properly outfitted,
then we’ll be gone for a couple days at least. Through the most
dangerous territory around. I can’t guarantee your safety.
Can’t guarantee my own."

"‘Course," she agreed. "Just," she
paused, her eyes going up to his and staying focused there, "Hey,
listen, when I told you about the group that saved me, well, they
helped me get here. They said they’d keep me with them and
whatever. But I’m going to take off with you and the leader
isn’t going to like that. I’m going to return their rifle
though because I mean... they saved me so whatever, I don’t
want to part on bad terms. They just can’t help me past here."

Soaking in her words, that old, slowly calculating look of his
returned. Looking to her rifle he asked, "If you like it, I’ll
offer to buy it for you. You’ll need a gun if you’re
coming with me, after all." His large hand rubbed over her
shoulder and bicep, "I know the gun merchants and caravaneers
around here well enough anyhow. Should be able to talk them into a
decent price, even now."

"They just made a deal for, I guess, a really good price. So
I don’t know about that. They... want me along, so..." she
admitted a bit bashfully, her face turning red before she shook away
the shame. "Fuck, look. It’s not like they were going to
tote me along for free, so I did what I had to and now I want out. I
want to help you."

His brow furrowed, the look on his face one of confusion; a rare
sight for the calm man. "Well... you haven’t made a
contract, right? You can get out of it and come with me? If not,
well..." he shrugged, "I’ll come with you and offer
to buy you out of your commitment. Either way, we don’t have a
lot of time to waste if we’re gonna get on this for your
people," he cautioned.

"No contract. They said I can go. I just don’t really
trust them," she nuzzled her nose against his earlobe. "I
just want you to come with me."

With a warm smile he nodded and gave the corner of her lips a
kiss, "Of course. We’ll make it quick. So eat up! Get some
food in you, because we’ve got a long, hard road ahead. I don’t
make it easy," he warned with a grin, seemingly lost in his head
thinking of the journey ahead as some romantic getaway rather than a
deathly urgent mission.

She nodded, "Just let me deal with them but if they look like
they’re gonna get rough with me, help me out, alright? I barely
know these guys and they don’t seem the type but... I don’t
know, I met them before I met you so the standards were different,"
she complimented him even as she went back to devouring her food.

"So, how do I best kill a vile, huh? Apparently cracking in
their nose and groin works."

Grent gave a hearty chuckle to that, apparently finding it amusing
and accurate enough not to say anymore on it. Finishing the rest of
his food he tidied up his hands, "You’ll do just fine with
that attitude. And the rest you’ll learn along the way. It’s
a good day’s journey from here with the way I’ll be
takin’ us. The safe and sneaky way," he gave her a bit of
a wink from the corner of his eyes.

"Alright, boss. I’m all yours," she grinned as she
pushed away the remains of her food, feeling that uncomfortable
fullness once more. "So... did you happen to find me a jacket?
Hate to be caught in the rain like this. Probably a bag... Got my
knife and hopefully this rifle. What else?"

Giving her another kiss he got up and pulled his own jacket from
the hook, the thing using some sort of camouflage, it fit around him
well. "We’ll go get you that jacket and supplies once we
sort out the business with this gang you got hooked up with," he
said, smiling to her. "C’mon, let’s go. Lives are
hangin’ in the balance here."

She scooted out, grabbing the gun, "Fuck, finally. Wish I had
been able to track my bag right then and there but no one ever told
me what was out here. Not like that, not like them."

Heading back out into the busy afternoon streets, she had to tell
him where he was. "Ah, the old caravan station," he
replied, knowing the place.

He guided her there without issue, though she saw Bren standing
outside by a warehouse section. The man caught sight of her first and
waved Jarago out, the two men watching her approach with Grent at her
side with some trepidation.

"I got this," she smiled and moved ahead, looking over
the two and trying to remain friendly. "Hey," she stopped a
few feet, her rifle at her side, "I found this guy. The leader
said he was sending him in to find the vile that took my stuff, and
I’m going to go with but... I wanted to let you guys know and
hopefully buy the gun off you."

Grent looked imposing a couple meters behind her, though Jarago
stepped forward undaunted, crossing his arms and looking from that
man to her. "We had a deal," he said in a voice that
sounded like it was trying to be quiet, but not quiet enough that it
couldn’t be heard by all those involved.

"You said I could go and that you just hoped I’d stick
around. You never paid me anything and I didn’t even ask
despite the fact that I still put in a day of work. If I stick with
you, I’m going to have to wait weeks to maybe make enough and
maybe get back soon enough that I’m not going back to a bunker
of corpses," she spoke confidently, completely sure of herself.

"Fuck, it’s not like you’re bad guys, and if I
wasn’t in a rush I might stick around, but right now I gotta
save these people, alright?"

Jarago looked a bit flustered, the dark man appearing as if he
were about to snap back with something. Instead though he stepped in
closer to her and leaned in. She could hear Grent shift behind her,
not liking his proximity to the woman. "But you haven’t
paid up all the way," he said in a whisper, "sure I said
you could go, but you had to please me. And my buddy," he said
jerking his head over his shoulder, "you got me. But you still
owe him."

At that, Jarago’s eyes slipped back over to Grent, it was
hard for her to read the expression, but the caravaneer looked almost
cocky.

"You said maybe. If he figured it out. Besides, fuck, we’ll
run into each other again, I’m sure. Once you guys get back in
town or whatever," she whispered back. "This is life or
death, and I never fucking had to tell you. I’m trying to be
good to you, alright?"

Her words didn’t mollify the man, instead he looked
incensed. "What? You fucked this guy too and now you’re
not interested in us anymore?" Jarago gave a derisive look,
"What the hell did this guy promise you? That he’ll storm
in like a one-man army and beat ‘em all on his lonesome?"
He snorted at the absurdity of it.

"No, he said he’d stake it out and see how many people
he needed to storm the place. Jarago," she said his name in a
very stern manner. "You took me to see the town leader, and he
told me I could either become a concubine or talk to this guy. I’m
going to save the bunker with or without your blessing."

"Well fine," Jarago threw up his hands, "but you
aren’t gettin’ that gun cheap," he said. Then
pointing a finger at Grent he said, "Don’t count on her
stickin’ around after she gets what she wants out of you,
buddy. I saved her life and we got it on. In return she fucks me,"
he declared, having lost all appropriateness as he turned and stormed
back to Bren.

Behind her Grent was unmoving, his nostrils flared and his eyes
hard. The man looked terrifyingly angry, his gaze looking like it
could’ve cut through Jarago on its own.

She looked to Bren, seeming a bit more apologetic in her gaze to
him before her hard eyes went back to Jarago, "I could have kept
it, you know. I didn’t have to come back here."

The caravan leader’s ego was obviously bruised, and as he
leaned back against the warehouse wall, his arms folded, he looked
defiant.

The silence was interrupted by the clink of a bag of credits being
tossed at the man’s feet. "Let’s go," Grent
said, not waiting to discuss the matter any further, instead just
turning and leaving. Apparently the heft of the satchel must’ve
been enough to satisfy them, because neither Bren or Jarago uttered
any protest.