Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (13 page)

Another cry pierced the night.

Tucking her finger into his mouth, Belle bit her lip. He immediately latched on. But the silence... Her heart slowed. She couldn't even hear the sounds of the ceremony. Oh, Lord, what if they came and took her baby——killed him for interrupting the Head Provider's ceremony. Killed for crying. She'd seen it happen before; the tiny bodies smashed against rocks. To think of her baby... Turning her head, she dry heaved.

Nattie glanced over Belle's bent knees before setting one hand on her bared stomach. "I'll be pulling out the afterbirth now."

Belle wiped her mouth on her sleeve then finished undoing her blouse. Cold air swept over her exposed skin and her breast tightened. Milk beaded on her nipple. When she pulled her finger from her son's mouth, he made sucking noises. Then his face scrunched up. She turned his head slightly, aiming for his mouth as it opened. His small chest heaved. No, no, don't scream again. Please don't scream again. At the last second, he glommed on and fed.

Belle sagged against the tent at her back. Thank God. Now she could rest, just for a bit. Shadows danced across her eyelids. Gathering her energy, she peeked at her surroundings.

'Viders formed a semi-circle around her. Two licked their lips.

Belle tightened her grip on her son. They wouldn't have him. They'd have to kill her first.

"It is a boy, then?" Her 'Vider crouched next to her and opened the baby's folded legs. The severed umbilical cord didn't completely cover the infant's male parts. "And he's whole."

She nodded. Every part accounted for.

Her 'Vider grabbed her by the chin, turned her head and smashed his lips against hers. A second later, his tongue invaded and filled her mouth with the taste of blood. His green eyes sparkled when he released her. "You have pleased me, woman."

Belle swallowed the vomit rising in her throat and stared at the babe. She caressed his silky cheek as he drifted off to sleep. So innocent and trusting. "Thank you, "Vider."

He tucked her engorged breast under her shirt then smoothed her skirts over her knees. "You may now call me North, Mirabelle. In public and when we couple."

Nattie shifted closer and whispered something in his ear, while she sucked more goo out of the baby's nose.

Belle struggled to sit up. Was something wrong with her child?

Shrugging off his shirt, he wrapped it around the bloody baby and lifted them both high. "Fellow Chosen, I give you our two newest 'Viders, Mirabelle North and Marshall John North."

"Conceived in blood. Born in blood. Bathed in blood." The 'Viders chanted.

"John?" The name was a punch to her gut. Her father had been named John. They had tortured him for days when he'd tried to stop them from killing his son, her brother. But then she'd had to weave her mother and brother's hair into his shirt...

Her 'Vider beamed down at her. "I honor our new Head Provider by passing her legacy to the next generation of Chosen. And I honor Mirabelle's strength by including her family name among ours."

Around her, men and women thumped their fists against their chests. Children whooped.

"Now she can have her own shirt!" A man shouted.

"I'll help her with supplies; my tribute has yet to give me a legacy," said another.

Oh God no. She stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep from screaming. Her 'Vider couldn't mean to share her. Women didn't last long when they were passed around.

Nattie patted her on the shoulder and pressed a warm cup into Belle's hand. "Drink."

She took it without thinking and obeyed. Grit washed over her teeth then the foul taste registered. She tried to drop the cup and spit out the contents but Nattie pushed it tighter until the metal lip dug into Belle's cheeks.

"All of it. It'll take the poison out of your system."

Belle shook her head.

Nattie crouched lower and whispered in her ear. "You'll pass it through your milk to the baby if you don't. You wouldn't want to kill him, would you?"

Never! Holding her breath, Belle swallowed every last drop.

Her 'Vider advanced on the cluster of men. Holding the baby in one hand, he set the other on the hilt of the knife at his hip. "Mirabelle is mine."

"Mirabelle is now part of the tribe." The crowd parted as Marshall Zuni strolled through. Hatred blazed so brightly in her eyes, it made the fire's flames seem dull. "She may decide to bear another's child if she so desires."

Her 'Vider whirled about and faced her. Confusion filled his eyes. "Mirabelle?"

Could he actually care about her answer? Of course he did. He never shared her with anyone, never shared his personal tribute.

"I've got tribute so you'll never have to lift a finger again." A young 'Vider shifted to the front. "You can lay in my bed all day, waiting for my seed."

Belle shuddered. Her change in status was figurative. If she didn't choose a man, one would choose her. Her 'Vider was horrible, but he was the best of the lot. He didn't beat her too much anymore, nor did he raise a hand to her daughters.

And if she chose someone else, she would lose her children.

Really, she had only one choice. "My——North and I have been successful thus far, I believe we shall continue together."

As the Head Provider's second, he could protect her and her children.

Anger rolled off the men who had made her offers.

North winked at her.

Her stomach turned. What had she done? Could she change her mind?

Nattie set her hand on Belle's shoulder. "It was the only decision you could make. The others still see you as food."

Marshall clapped her hands. Anger turned her mouth into a red slash. "Now that is out of the way, let me see my namesake."

Belle shifted her weight. No, don't! She didn't trust the Head Provider.

Digging her fingers into her collarbone, Nattie held Belle in place. "Marshall Zuni added something to your cook pot while you were out with North. You and North ate it and got sick."

The camp spun in front of Belle's eyes. She clasped her head between her hands. "What?"

Had Nattie slipped back into her crazy world now that the baby had been delivered?

"There is a saying among my people: keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Nattie nudged the plate with the afterbirth on it. "Offer it to the Head Provider."

'Viders only had enemies. But like Belle, Nattie had once been free, been human and not tribute. She knew things not even the smartest person in Belle's village knew. And she'd used it to heal wounds, set broken bones and deliver babies. Belle trusted the other woman with her life.

She was as close to a friend Belle would ever get in this nightmare world.

"Head Provider." Belle's tongue swelled in her mouth. Had she really just addressed the leader of the 'Viders? Her body tensed waiting for the blows to start. Tribute didn't talk unless given permission.

"Yes, Mirabelle." Marshall's smile barely dented her cheeks.

Belle rose on her knees, felt the warm blood trickle down her thighs. Lifting the platter, she raised it to her chin. The metallic scent caused her stomach to cramp. "I would be honored if you would accept this small token to seal the bond between you and my son, making you his honorary dame."

She lowered her gaze to the ground. And if you really did try to poison me, I hope you die.

Marshall's nostrils flared and she recoiled. "I——"

North slapped the Head Provider on the shoulder. "An excellent idea. With this tasty offering, we'll make the bond between our lines that much stronger." He nudged her and lowered his voice. "And it might help you conceive your own legacy."

Those nearby chuckled.

The platter shook in Belle's hand. Good God. What was North doing? He knew the Head Provider had killed for less than mentioning her sterility. Heck, he'd even participated in those brutal murders.

Red mottled Marshall's skin and she bared her teeth. "I can do that on my own."

"Of course, of course." Handing the baby to Nattie, North took the offering and shoved it at the Head Provider. "Are you saying you don't want to share in my blood and body? That you think it is unclean?"

The crowd around her shifted. Many clearly aligning themselves behind North. Violence simmered, causing the very air to vibrate.

Belle held her breath. North suspected they'd been poisoned, but why wait until now to challenge a leader he just backed?

"Poisoned perhaps?" North lowered his hand.

Taking it, Belle allowed him to pull her up. Her knees trembled. He did know. Nattie must have told him when he'd taken her son.

He squeezed her fingers until they tingled.

The Provider raised her chin and whipped out her knife. Eying Belle's throat, Marshall slid the blade over the wobbling blob, slicing off a piece. Blood ran in rivulets onto the silver surface.

Belle locked her knees to keep from fainting. That was a definite threat. She'd have to be extra careful when North went on his next hunting trip.

Marshall speared the cut then raised the dark red mass to her lips.

But didn't eat it.

North's growl rumbled deep in his chest.

Shifting her attention to him, Marshall ripped off a bite and chewed. "Delicious." Bits of meat stuffed the crevices between her teeth. "But I cannot keep such a bountiful offering to myself. Everyone must have some. And may there be many more 'Viders in nine months!"

Men and women surged forward. The platter was ripped from North's hands. Knives and fingers vied to bits of the offering.

North set his hand on her back and pushed aside the crowd.

Belle turned away. God, if she had been poisoned, please let tainted meat kill them all. From the corner of her eye, she watched the Head Provider flick her wrist. The meat sailed through the air before disappearing behind a tent. Should she tell North?

A horn trumpeted through the darkness.

"They're back!" A girl with short curls stood on her mother's shoulders. "The hunting party has returned, and they've brought tribute!"

North wrapped his hands around Belle's waist and lifted her high into the air. "And you get first pick of the offerings." His grin lit up his eyes. "Between your choice and our oldest two sons, we'll eat well for weeks to come!"

She didn't want to pick someone, let alone butcher them. She opened her mouth and promptly vomited black liquid down his chest.

Chapter 15

Lee was lost. Using a crooked stick, he poked the fire. Why hadn't any of the bastards he'd questioned told him which of the ancient roads to travel? They'd told him everything else. Anything they thought might spare their miserable lives. The flames flared high, licking the simmering pot of beans. When the bubbles burst, brown liquid sprayed the cast iron pot and chain suspending it from the spit.

Across from him, Sammy shivered under her pile of blankets. In the campfire, the bruises under her eyes nearly swallowed her face. "I'm hungry, Paw-Paw."

"Here you go." Ladling a mess of beans onto a plate, Lee handed the food to her. She wouldn't eat. She'd pick at the beans, swallow a couple bites, then spend the next half hour pushing them around. Damn corpse belly. Her body screamed for food even while rejecting it.

"Will we get there tomorrow?" She propped herself up on her elbow and stirred her food. Sweat shimmered on her forehead, like the stars overhead.

Would they? If he chose the right road. But if he picked wrong... Lee snapped a branch in half and added it to the fire. He had to pick the right path. Had to. "We sure will, Sammy-girl."

He just needed a sign to tell him which way to go.

Spooning out his own meal, he blew on the dancing steam. He took a bite and crushed the beans between his teeth. Obviously the folks he'd interrogated hadn't known which way to go either, or they wouldn't have taken the path to his village.

Lee eyed the night sky.

Untold numbers of stars poked pinholes in the black velvet. There'd been a play he'd read as a child——one that talked about using them as a guide. No one in his village had known what to make of it.

No one in his village had tried to leave after that first bloody round of forced soliloquies. Why would they? Beyond their villages were nothing but uncivilized savages. And he was heading straight for them. His muscles tensed.

"Hail strangers in the camp!"

Lee's hand shook so much his spoon slid off his plate, dropped to the dirt. Setting the plate down, he rose and peered into the darkness. The brightness of the fire blinded him to any movement. "Who goes there?"

Silence.

The skin between his shoulder blades prickled. The bush on his right shook. He spun around to face it. The mule pulled off a few leaves. Shit! He'd used the wrong words. What had that prisoner said before Lee had slit his throat? I knew I shouldn't have approached. Yes, yes, besides that. The words rolled through Lee's thoughts.

Tugging his slingshot from his back pocket, he cleared his throat. "No strangers here, just folks you haven't met."

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

Breathing hard, Sammy sat up. A rock lay in her slingshot.

Gravel crunched to the left. Then he heard it. Breathing. Heavy breathing and a moan.

"Then we are pleased to meet you." Two burly men stumbled into camp, one clearly supporting the other. 

Lee blinked. There were two of them, yet they looked identical. Beady eyes sunk deep into moon-shaped faces. Their noses barely registered as a bump let alone features. Small mouths and tiny ears completed the set.

God, they were ugly beyond measure.

And big. His hand tightened on the strap of his slingshot. How many hits would it take to fell them? Too many to fire before he was overrun, that's for damn sure. Which meant he had to find another way to achieve a position of power.

The first man lowered his brother to a patch of dirt in front of the fire. "I'm Tino, and this here's Quinn."

Quinn groaned. Blood oozed between the thick fingers pressed against his large thigh. The strip of cloth tied around his leg was stained crimson. Only the edges told of its original white color. Between the layers of fabric and his fingers jutted an inch of wood.