Dusk Territories: Always Burning (26 page)

It wasn’t a question. It was an order.

Ragnar knew his thoughts were true.
This man is going to get us killed. One way or another.

_

“I’m going to ask again.”

Her name was Alice, and she wasn’t in Wonderland. Or was she?

She had been taken to a dark room in the most rusty of the RVs. Her hands were bound. Her leg was bandaged up, knee shattered. Anesthesia pumped through her veins, quelling the unbearable amount of pain she felt. Alice slumped in the seat, barely keeping herself awake. If it wasn’t for her captors, she would have fallen asleep. Or maybe she had already, and this was some horrible nightmare.

“I’m going to ask again…why were you here?”

Alice was afraid.

The room was dark, only the stench of old metal permeating the air. Small slithers of light poured onto her face from the metal shutters that her chair faced. Cool air splashed against her. The sun was setting. She had been out for a while. How long she couldn’t say? All she could say that the sun was setting and the only light in this horrid situation was fading. She would be alone with this man; a man she knew was slowly becoming a devil.

“I—I was…” Alice tripped over her words. They hadn’t even touched her. She hadn’t been beaten or raped or anything. But she was compelled by pure fear to want to speak. Right now, she managed to swallow the urge however. “I can’t tell you.”

“Shame.” The sounds of boots against metal resonated in the air. Unlike a normal person, she couldn’t feel his heat when he got close. His presence was almost invisible to her. Yet she could hear him circling, over and over again. He must have been at this for hours. He was patient, asking the same question over and over. It was his voice. She expected a normal voice, she didn’t get that. Instead, she got a harsh rough one that she associated with a horror movie.

Even when he wasn’t talking, she heard his voice.

Long seconds passed. Minutes fell after. Still nothing. This man made no moves, just paced.

Her heart paced as well.

This man was scheming. He was plotting her death. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t wipe the sweat from her brow.

“Do you need some water?” The man asked.

She nodded, and only heard as the man dipped a canteen in a bucket of water.

The sound of his boots drifted in her direction. She saw his shadow on the floor, long and stretched. Her mind played tricks on her. For a few times, she thought she saw horns. Others, her eyes believed she saw extra limbs. At the end, she only saw a man tapping against her shoulder with a steel bottle near her face. “Now…” he said slowly, lowering himself to her seated height. “Can we talk now?”

She met his face for the first. Amongst, the darkness she could see it.

Graham was close, nose and forehead touching hers as though he was about to yell. His skin was colder than anything that she ever touched, clammy and thick. Eyes, dull white, ate away her confidence. The decayed soldier took a deep breath, showing his chipped and discolored teeth. He smelled of death. Not just from his skin or his appearance, it was like blood was stained on his very being. That is what scared her the most. Aside from the fact a pistol sat on her temple as he spoke.

“Who brought you here?” Graham said, taking a swig of the canteen. “Or the next thing I drink won’t be so clear and I’ll
have a new cup. Your
damn skull
. So talk.” He slammed the container, almost denting it.

That broke her, and both of them heard it.

“Please don’t….Please don’t’...I’ll talk…”

Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know if it was the meds that was talking or the fear. All she knew is that she met her King of Hearts, and she didn’t want to lose her head.

15

Lure

“Someone has to pick up the pieces, even if it’s glass.”

Graham knew a lot of information now. No one asked how he got it. For now, they were just pleased that he had gotten it. They didn’t even ask what happened to the captive. They also didn’t want to know that.

For the first few minutes the soldier, more of a freelance gun now, rode silently. Everyone looked expectedly at him. Yet, he didn’t speak. He just reclined backwards, hands on his stomach and feet crossed. They were a day or so away from the Tear. Even Conjurer’s information earlier wasn’t enough to pin point the exact location of an Ancestor’s hideout. But, he knew. He knew exactly where everything was. He was just waiting, waiting for the topic to come up.

“Anyone else getting a real bad feeling, fellas,” Haggis started, over the radio. He and his brother needed to drive the tanks, but they were still advisors to the team. “I mean, hella bad. You feel it, Pub.”

Pub was quiet for a while. “Yeah…”

Everyone knew that wasn’t a good thing. Rarely did the brothers show blatant concerns. They would joke; maybe laugh about the situation as a whole. But, their shared bad feelings were like a black cat crossing your path, without the argument of superstition.

“There’s something off,” Wood admitted as well.

Crisium tossed her hair. “With the amount of bad feelings goin’ around, we might as well take a detour to hell.”

“We’ve come
this
far. I rather
not
turn around a mass of trucks, and waste the obscene amount of gas it took us to get here.” Heron crossed her legs, staring at Drifter who had been incredibly quiet. She knew, like everyone else here, that he wasn’t going to turn around. The danger was going to be great anyway, no matter where they hid. They angered a demon, now they were fighting the flames.

“Can’t back down from ‘em,” Tyrus agreed. “No matter what we do. They’ll butcher us like hams.”

“Should we have fucked with them in the first place?” No one really wanted to believe what Juvenico said. But, it had probably crossed everyone’s mind. Was the truth that important, that vital that it would cost everyone their lives?

Drifter shook his head, tilting his hat down. “No one said it was going to be free.”

Everything has a cost.
Graham learned about prices. So did Alice. At the end of the day, you paid it even if you didn’t have the coin to.
Tenseness settled in everyone’s guts as they came to the truth.

“So, Graham…” Crisium asked, staring at him. “What’d you learn from Alice?”

Included in the discussion, Graham put his propped feet on the ground and stared at the group. They wanted those words, but could they handle them? “The Ancestors, or at least a part of them, are held up in Huston. The city is pretty much locked down, specifically locked down for security reasons. A lot of people see it as a refuge for lost souls. We don’t know what they are actually doing there.”

“That makes sense, the Ancestors usually like the larger cities. That’s the main reason we avoid them…one of the reasons at least.”

“Crisium, that’s an understatement. If the Ancestors don’t have it, savages or heavily mutated bastards have them. Either way, it’s pretty bad news.” Tyrus pulled the manifest, a thickly bound black book from Conjurer off the shelf. “Makes sense though.” He fingered through the pages. “There’re shipments from Conjurer’s company before the Armageddon to various places in the world.”

“
Demeter Enterprises,” Heron muttered.
“It was a medical research company.”

Wood and Drifter, who had been remarkably quiet, shared a very dark chuckle.

“Is there something funny?” Graham asked.

“Demeter, goddess of growth and life.” The explanation from Wood was simple, but served its purpose. Growth and life were probably the two things that this world lacked.

“It the company that your father tried to get hooked up with by employing
your
type of company to seal the deal,” Pub added.

Heron growled almost savagely at the joke, wishing that she could get close enough to punch him. “Yes…” she growled. “Apparently, he was interested in the research that Demeter had to offer.”

“I’m startin’ to see why.” Tyrus placed the manifest down, spreading it out for everyone. “Look here.”

Pub laughed. “Kind of have my eyes on the road.”

“Yeah, fella. Bit busy driving,” Haggis added.

“Shut up and drink your ale, Scots,” Tyrus joked, as he scanned through the information. “Whatever they were exportin’—there’s a lot of the stuff.”

“ ‘ey does it say what they were shipping, amigo?” Juvenico asked, leaning over to see it.

“No,” Tyrus responded, eyebrow arched. “Why did you think I said “whatever”?’

“Don’t mind his stupidity,” Heron waved it off. “Who is it going to is the most important thing?”

Graham pushed himself out of the chair to stand over the book himself. There was a large amount of information on the page. Conjurer was significantly thorough on paper, especially in a once digital age. He marked each of his shipments in tables, each marked with dates leading up to a specific event. Graham looked at the notes. Each was specifically different….almost like something was being tested.

Then it clicked.

“Conjurer was sending what would be P-X3s and X-12.”

Dark thoughts settled within the crowd. It made sense. The trades were sent to almost every part of the country, spreading like a web across the United States. From those many locations, they could be sent to various places around the world—like the cache in the Boneyard of Florida. Then finally, it broke. The world broke from these chemicals.

“Dammit, who could’ve funded this shit?” Crisium spat.

      
Juvenico frowned. “And more importantly...why would Conjurer risk so much giving this away…

“He didn’t expect us to get out of there alive. It was a good lure…” Graham thought about it more deeply.
That was a significant risk, even as a lure.
The people, the survivors deserved to know what happened to them. The people responsible for this had to be brought to justice for they can move on and rebuild.
No. Conjurer may be angry that his attack failed, but he would have had a trap.
Why would they risk it….unless—

“Everyone.”

Drifter stood suddenly. “We aren’t out of the woodworks yet. Stop the trucks.” With a single order, the trucks stopped. Everyone looked wearily at one another. They knew that they were in danger. Conjurer would not let them live. “Get out everyone. Get to your stations.” Drifter clasped his hands, with the expression of disdain on his face. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Graham nodded. “They’re after us. They know…somehow…where we are headed. That’s why we lost them so fast at Rootgrove. Everyone. Go. Prepare for battle. Things are about to get really rough, and I can’t promise all of your lives safety.”

“You couldn’t have promised that if you tried, my boy,” Drifter said, solemnly. “Just do what you do best.”

That was all he could do. “Juvenico come with me Tyrus, I need one of my group to stay here. You’re the best we got.”

Drifter walked over to Graham, lowering himself to his ear. Graham listened, mind clear of everything else. At the end, he nodded meaningfully. “Understood.” He walked away with his orders.
The Ancestors caught themselves some fish, now we’re squirming with a hook in our mouth.

_

They were in their sights.

Over the hill was the caravan. The roaring of the engines and the smoke of its collective exhaust coasted the air. They sat in a more defensive position from Ragnar’s memory. It was almost a variation of the one that they used against him. In the midday, seeing the difference in tactics would have child’s play. However, in the morning, with the sun still struggling to wake itself, the change was almost unnoticeable. The main thing was for sure, Drifter’s RV would remain in the middle of the defenses. If it was broken, however, it would also have a meaningful escape route. That much, he knew for sure.

Their numbers overwhelmed them. In simple statistics, five to one was the ratio. On a complex idea, their weapons and firearms completely outmatched them; they had the territorial advantage, better vehicles, and an ambush position. More than likely, they will be able to mop them up quickly if played right.
, Drifter’s sneaky; he never played on anyone else’s rules.

Brink dropped his binoculars. “Best course of action is to take the target.”

“Full offensive?”

“I thought that you would be excited for such an option, Doctor.”

Facts were that it was gutsy, just a full display of power.

‘They could have laid a trap.”

“I would be very disappointed if he didn’t. But, illusions can only get a man so far,” Brink said, amusingly.

River shot him a dangerous glance but said nothing, just holding a flame in her palm.

“We’re going to break them and end this nonsense. I need to get back to business. Understood?”

“What are you missing, Brink? What business?” River whispered.

“None of yours. Now let’s get started.”

Brink jumped over the side of his truck, landing cat like on the ground. He returned to his men, leaving River and Ragnar alone in the bed of the truck.

The two of them, despite their obvious dislike for each other, both watched Brink with an eye.

“We don’t get along. I get that. I hate your guts. But are we willing to follow this man?”

River balled her fingers to her palm, the flame within dying within a quiet
swoosh
. She smiled, like she always did. But, he noticed something different, a flaw in it. “I just want to see things burn.”

“But, you want to be the one that sets it. You hate other people on your game board.”

“You know me way too well, Raggy. Almost enough to get you killed.” River laced her fingers together. “Let’s play along for now. Remember, we still have a score to settle with a lot of them.”

“And with each other.”

River
played with the ends of her hair. “Of course, Raggy. But,
you
have to wait your turn.”

“Starting the siege!” The sound of Lieutenant Brink’s voice sent the vehicles in a fury of action. Men and women swarmed through the camp in a feverish motion. Doors shut, weapons were loaded, engines started, and men were geared. A gruff-looking man, one of Brink’s associates, handed Ragnar a gun. He looked at it, shaking his head. “I’m not interested,” he told him. And they were on their way.