Gift from God: Hunter Wars Book Four (The Hunter Wars 4) Page 5

  While openly staring at her cleavage, he said, “You little fuckers are gettin’ to be hot.”

  Smiling broadly and prominently displaying her fangs, she said, “Soldier boy, I would stay and play, but you’re already spoken for.” Licking her lips, she cast a slow, languid look down his body. “Shame though, you would be tasty.”

  The white-haired man ignored their banter and called out loudly, “Chris, get in here and keep a hold on this one while I check him over.”

  Two men in black walked in and stood on either side of him. The white-haired man pulled a sharp blade from the pouch he’d brought with him. Standing so close he could smell the rancid stench of old sweat and bad breath from teeth that were never cleaned, the man cut through his shirt, exposing his back.

  “It just looks bruised,” the man muttered to himself, as he pushed firmly against the lower part of his spine. “He’s fine.”

  Walking back around to face him, the man asked brusquely, “Anything else I need to know about, or do I have to strip you?”

  Deciding the man wouldn’t hesitate to strip him, he said, “Nah, but brush your damned teeth and take a shower. You stink.”

  Spraying his face with spittle, the man barked a sharp laugh. “You’ll learn.”

  “Learn what?”

  “You’ll learn that everything you thought you knew about yourself was wrong. You can be broken, and once broken you will be owned. I don’t do my job because I have to. I do it because I don’t care enough not to, and while Ruler insists I live, it makes the days pass faster. You’ll be broken too. Everyone always is.”

  He felt a slight buzz of adrenalin travel through his spine. Something about the way the man had spoken made him realize what he was facing was not as simple as being held prisoner. He’d been taught how to be a prisoner. It was part of his training in the Army and he knew how to deal with it, but that training assumed a recognizable enemy with predictable tactics.

  Sniffing loudly to reassert himself, he flicked his head at the other cages. “Who are the people in the cages?”

  “You’re not the same as them. Your future will be very different to theirs.”

  “What’s their future?”

  “Those bodies are for Ruler’s demons. I make sure they’re healthy and in good working condition.”

  “And if they ain’t?”

  Sighing, as if bored with the discussion, man replied, “They go to another camp with all the other disposables.”

  “Disposables?”

  The man was now pulling out a needle and a vial from his small pouch. Threading the needle into the vial, he extracted a dose into the syringe. Turning back towards him, needle in hand, the man replied, “They’re people Ruler doesn’t have any other use for.”

  Knowing the needle was probably intended to sedate him, he asked, “What does he do with people he ain’t got no further use for?”

  Giving him a look of utter disbelief, the man replied, “Anything he wants. What else would he do with them?”

  “Oh, I dunno,” he said sarcastically. “Let ‘em go. They ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this kinda shit.”

  The man gave another sharp barking laugh, and turning to the two men in black still standing on either side of him, he said, “Hold him so he isn’t injured. Ruler wants him in perfect health, and you know he’ll skin us alive if we don’t deliver.”

  Looking at him, the man said, “You’ll be heavily sedated and I’ll keep you under until Ruler gets here, but don’t worry, no one will hurt you while you’re sleeping. You’re a special delivery and Ruler was very specific about your welfare. I’m going to knock you out and then tuck you into bed.”

  With a thin smile, the man jabbed the needle into his thigh.

  CHAPTER SIX: Star light, Star bright (Mackenzie)

  Waking to the sound of the birds’ calling, he continued to lay on his back and enjoy his slow awakening. Listening intently to every trill and chirp, he knew the birds were talking to one another, declaring they were alive and well. I’m alive and well, he thought contentedly. Caught in the twilight of dreamless nights and dream-filled days, this was his most peaceful time of day. Moving onto his other senses, he became aware of the softness of the lightweight quilt across his naked body, and the embrace of the cushioned bed beneath his back. Breathing deeply, he smelt the fresh greenness of the forest, and finally he savored the warm breathing body wrapped around him. With her arm thrown across his chest, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder and her leg stretched over his hips, he could feel her every breath. Feeling warm and content, he squeezed her gently with his arm and felt her stir.

  “You woke me,” Max complained softly.

  “I know, but I missed you.”

  Since he was infected with the designer virus, he was able to kill hunters with a touch, but the ability had come at a price. The virus altered his brain in a way that gave him precognition. When a vision of the future caught him, he was transported in his mind to a moment where he would watch events before they happened. It was his vision of Gears, Pax, TL, Nelson, Captain Ted, and a thousand combat shooters being slaughtered by three hundred thousand hunters that led him to shoot Ip. He’d seen two futures, one where she lived as she was and they all died, and another where she was reborn into the body of another and they all lived. On reflection, he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision. It was true they’d survived, but now he saw another future, one where Ip was killing everything. He wondered now if he was played in some way, and in her new body she was going to become a ruthless killer.

  Closing his eyes again, he searched his mind for the future and saw nothing but death. He walked across a land that was barren, hot and devoid of life. A short distance away, he saw a tall, slender, blonde woman, dressed from head to toe in black, and in her hand was an ancient looking sword stained red with blood.

  “Wait!”

  Jogging over to the woman, she turned and it was the newly born Ip. She was the same, but not the same as the woman he’d known. On the left side of her face was a complex, intricate pattern of bluish and black lines, and they weaved delicately down the high arc of her cheekbone, following the line of her neck and disappearing into the collar of her black shirt. When he looked at her hands, they had the same complex weaving pattern threaded down her forearms to the tips of her fingers, and they followed a line of ridges that disappeared under the cuffs of her shirt.

  “Who are you?”

  In a voice with a slightly musical lilt to it, she replied, “I am Death.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “The Horsemen have ruled. The future must be won.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Our judgement will be enforced.”

  The woman who he believed was Ip turned and walked away. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of their bedroom in the RV. Being able to summon the woman and talk to her never led him to any answers he understood. He’d spoken to her more than once and that was all she ever said. She didn’t speak like one of the Infected, and he wondered if she really was Ip as he knew her, or a part of Ip he’d never met. Her message never changed and it seemed like he was talking to a recorded message. He would always meet her in the same desolate place, she would say she was Death, that the Horsemen had ruled and they would enforce their judgement. Unlike the Ip he’d once known, he got no feelings or images from her mind anymore. It was as if the Ip he’d come to know was gone, and all that was left was this person he wasn’t even sure was a person.

  Lifting her head and looking up at him, Max asked, “Did you speak with Ip again?”

  “Yes and she never says anything different.”

  Her thick, dark hair tumbled down her shoulders as she sat up and climbed out of bed. Standing at the end of the bed, with her hand resting on her rounded belly, she said, “You worry too much. It’ll be whatever it’s going to be, and worrying won’t change anything.”

  Admiring her blossoming body, he smiled and launched
himself across the bed. Grabbing her by the waist, he leaned his ear to her swelling belly and said, “Good morning, baby! Did you sleep well?”

  Giggling, Max placed her hand on the top of his head and said, “I don’t think she can hear you.”

  “Why not? And how do you know it’s a she?”

  It was an argument they had every day. Max believed it was a girl and so did he, but he loved their bantering and argued with her anyway.

  “Well, she doesn’t have ears yet. Read the book dummy!”

  When they found out Max was pregnant, they’d taken a rare trip into a large town, and collected every book they could find about pregnancy. Unsurprisingly the libraries and bookstores remained untouched since the outbreak of the virus. He suspected no one had any interest in books anymore, and he and Max had brought back hundreds of them. They’d parked their RV high in the hills, surrounded by the forest, and near a running, fresh water stream. Between the patch of vegetables they grew, and hunting and trapping small animals, they wanted for nothing. Pax had taught them how to survive and they lived well.

  After he killed the super hunter at the missile silo, Gears and Ip took him back to the CDC where Lydia saved his life. His mind was a mess. Visions flooded his head taking control of him, and sometimes he could barely move. Max had sat with him patiently through his moments of insanity, and she told him they needed to get away and be somewhere quiet and safe. He was in no condition to know what to do, but he trusted Max and let her lead him. Taking control of his life, she’d brought them here, and in this small oasis of peace, his mind had slowly calmed down. She’d given up everything to take care of him and he couldn’t help falling in love with her. Now they estimated she was probably four to five months pregnant, and knowing their child was soon to be born, filled him with joy. He couldn’t remember a time when he was this content with his life.

  “I need to pee, you squished my bladder.”

  “Do that and come back to bed.”

  Slipping on a pair of shoes and a soft robe, she laughed. “I don’t think so, Mac. I’m going to wash up as well. Go and make me some breakfast.”

  Pulling his best sad puppy face, he said, “Pretty please.”

  “No, now go and make me some food,” Max ordered, but she cheekily flashed her cleavage and winked at him before leaving the room.

  Chuckling, he climbed out of bed and without bothering to dress he followed her. They both agreed clearing the sewerage from the RV was a nuisance, and nature had its own self-cleaning system. Max disappeared into the bushes, and giving her some privacy, he walked towards the forest. Mornings were chilly, but with his hunter blood he felt neither heat nor cold. Having dealt with nature, he walked over to the traps and saw they would be having rabbit for dinner.

  Looking at the frightened animal caught in the trap, he said soothingly, “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll make it quick for you.”

  Leaving the animal in the trap, he walked back to the stream where Max was now kneeling, washing her face and body in the stream. Although her body had softened with the pregnancy, she was still tanned and muscular, and he enjoyed watching her.

  “Rabbit for dinner.”

  Still soaping her body, Max grunted and said, “Maybe we should keep chickens.”

  “Do you know how to keep chickens?”

  Sitting back on her haunches, she asked, “Do you think we should get a house? I mean with the baby coming, maybe we need to get more organized.”

  He’d wondered the same thing himself, but neither were able to settle on a long-term plan they both felt comfortable with. “We still have to decide whether we stay here or go back to the bases.”

  Although he was telepathic, he’d not been in contact with the Infected, and had no idea what was happening. As grateful as he was to Gears and Pax for their training and commitment to saving the world, since being infected, he wasn’t sure he belonged with them anymore. When he agreed to be infected, he imagined he would be a warrior, able to use a gun and kill hunters with a touch. In retrospect, he thought his old view of the world was narrow, and his willingness to kill too casual. He no longer felt the same way, and now he wanted nothing more than his mind to be at peace. Wanting to remain in his own world, a world he and Max had created, he ignored the enquiries from the Infected. The only person he’d spoken to was Ip, and those conversations were as limited and uninformative as the one he’d had earlier that morning.

  “What do you want to do, Max? Stay apart or go back to the bases?”

  “I don’t know. Before the baby, I would have said we should go back and at least see what’s happening, but now the bases seem grim compared to how we’re living. I do know I don’t want to be a combat shooter anymore. I’m a mother now.”

  “The two things are not mutually exclusive. You can be both if you want to be.”

  Pulling her on robe and holding it tightly around her body, she replied, “I know, but things have changed. I’ve changed.”

  They could never make a decision. On the one hand, he knew they felt a fierce loyalty to Gears and his brothers, but on the other hand, they’d built a life together based on peace and living with nature. The thought of returning to the congestion, desperation, and violence of the bases didn’t appeal to either of them. When he first encountered Gears and Pax he’d admired their tough attitude, but now he wanted nothing more than to live quietly and peacefully, even it meant living alone.

  Putting his arm around her waist, they both ambled back to the RV. “We’ll think about it tomorrow.”

  Their day passed quietly and peacefully, and in the evening he built a small campfire. Although he didn’t feel the cold, Max did. They would sit together in silence, watching the flames, and listening to the sounds of the night. They were far in the hills, and it was unlikely anyone would bother them, but both he and Max were more than able to deal with anyone who did.

  It was that night, while sitting by the campfire with Max, he first saw the golden star. The stars in his mind had multiplied since they were in the forest, and knowing they were the minds of the Infected, he assumed Lydia was continuing to infect the living with the designer virus. He paid no attention until a golden orb appeared, small and hidden amongst the other stars, and he felt it tug against his mind.

  “What the hell?”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a new star.”

  Tucking her hair behind her ears, she prodded the fire with a stick. “You see new stars all the time.”

  “Not like this one. It’s small and gold. It has a…pull to it.”

  “Pull? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s not the same as the others.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Through the eye of the needle (Wolfie)

  Walking into the examination room, Doc nodded to him and said, “Hey Wolfie.”

  Nodding in return, he looked at the woman sitting on the examination table.

  Visibly shaking, the heavily pregnant woman asked in a small and frightened voice, “Is my baby okay?”

  The woman was dressed in a patient gown, with a light blue sheet draped over her, but she was a mess. Covered in dirt and dried blood, her hair was matted flat to her head, and under the dirt on her hands, her nails were torn and bloody. She’d clearly been through some terrible ordeal and Doc, the medic for their base, was gently examining her. One of the people from their road biker gang found her by the side of the road, covered in blood, and panic-stricken. They immediately called the base to send a helicopter out to pick her up. He wouldn’t normally have gotten involved, but the woman told them she’d escaped from Ruler’s camp. Knowing Gears would be keen for any intelligence about the camp, he’d immediately come to the tourist shop that now acted as their medical center.

  He and Gears struck a deal ten months earlier, and with the help of Nelson and TL, they’d established a base at Lake Lanier just outside of Atlanta. The area was a complex set of islands and by securing a single road, they’d managed to create a
hunter free area where eight thousand people now lived. The three mainland bases run by Gears and his brothers were overflowing, and they were sending more people to his base every day. Although they grew their own vegetables and kept some livestock, they had nowhere near enough to feed this many hungry and frightened people. It was becoming chaotic and they were struggling to maintain supplies.

  He had road crews looking for new sources of supply, and Gears and TL were in the UK finding out if it was possible to move people to a safe country, while they established order on the mainland. For as much as he didn’t want to abandon his country, for the good of the people seeking refuge, he hoped the UK was a viable option. At the rate they were going he would be forced to turn people away, and that didn’t rest well him or his gang. Throughout his life he’d always believed in supporting his fellow man, and although supplies were thinly stretched, he wouldn’t sacrifice the needs of the many for the needs of the few. He was in a philosophical bind and he was hoping Gears would solve it for him.

  Pulling up a stool, he sat next to the anxious woman. “I know you’re frightened, but you’re safe here. We’ve got doctors and access to a hospital.”

  Breathing deeply, she said, “My name is Antoinette, but everyone calls me Ant. It’s a silly name, but my dad used to call me that when I was little and it stuck.”

  “Nice to meet ya, Ant. I’m Wolfie and I run this base.”

  “Are you with the people from Jacksonville?”

  “Yeah, the man who runs those bases is a guy called Gears. His people helped us set this base up.”

  “I’ve heard of him. I was with a group in East Kentucky and we were doing alright. My husband was a survivalist, so we had our own bunker and radios, and we were able to stay in contact with one another. We kinda had an underground community with all of us in our own bunkers, and most of us had a year of supplies. It only got to be a problem when our supplies started to run low.”

  He thought Ant looked like his late wife, Nancy. Under the caked dirt and blood, he saw she had a deeply lined and weathered face, straggly mousy brown hair and matching brown eyes. She would probably wash up fine, but for now she was covered in streaks of blood, mud and filth, and smelt just as bad. No doubt she had a hell of a story to tell, and he patiently waited while she organized her thoughts. Nidge, who was over six foot, with a width to match his height, rumbled in holding a tray with soup, bread and coffee. Pulling a table on wheels over to her bed, he put the tray down, and Ant began to eat hungrily.