Applegate, Katherine A Remnants 12 Aftermath

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"What did you expect?" Violet said.
"Not much. It doesn't matter I'm not drinking it."
"Are we going to offend them if we don't?" D-Caf asked nervously.
"Probably," Violet said. "But I wouldn't worry about it. Look around. Pretty much
everyone's out cold."
Mo'Steel looked. Violet was right. The kids were all asleep. Badger and Sanchez were talking
quietly, their backs to the group. The women who weren't snoring were busy putting away
packets of food and tending to the fire. Most of the men lay flat on their backs, unmoving.
Mo'Steel crawled a few feet away from the group and emptied what remained of the gross
liquid into the ash. Then he crawled back and tossed the bottle into the center of the rough ring.
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"That stuff must be brutal," Mo'Steel said. "A half an hour and they're annihilated."
"Too annihilated for trouble, maybe," Olga said, "Maybe we can all get some real sleep. Only
worry about the Beasts. And the Slizzers."
Mo'Steel laughed softly. "Sounds good to me, Mom," he said. "Wake me when it's supposed
to be morning."
Claw and Rattler were on guard. Jobs thought the choice of Rattler as guard was lame; the guy
was seriously drunk, muttering and gesticulating wildly. Claw wasn't in much better shape; his
large head was bobbing toward his chest. Still, Jobs was so tired and cold he was grateful he
himself wasn't on guard duty.
Jobs took one last look around the group before settling down. The Marauders and the
Mayflower survivors were hunkered down in the ash, dirty, voluminous clothes wrapped around
them for warmth, a rough collection of lumps, like an outcrop of rocks, still in the blackness.
"Stay away, ghosts," Jobs mumbled, and closed his eyes.
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CHAPTER 19
"J'OU DON'T DO ANYTHING FOOLISH."
Jobs woke to a scream that was so close and so frightened, it seemed to be coming from his
own mouth.
Madly, he tore away the skins covering him while urging his eyes to adjust to the surrounding
gloom, lit erratically by the dying fire.
Dying fire? Jobs's brain came into full awake mode with the recognition of the fact that the
fire should not be dying. Not if the guards had been doing their job.
All around was chaos. Everyone was on his or her feet. Everyone but Jobs.
The scream. It had been a woman's and now was replaced by terrible, sad sobbing.
"It's Olga!"
Jobs stumbled to his feet as Violet rushed past him. Jobs whirled, located his best friend's
mother. She was gasping, reaching for words.
"He put his hand over my mouth...."
Jobs saw Mo'Steel fly past him. Jobs reached out and grabbed his friend's arm, aware that Badger
had grabbed his friend's other arm and that they were restraining him with difficulty.
"J'ou don't do anything foolish," Badger hissed.
Mo'Steel thrashed wildly, eyes blazing.
"Mo, no!" Jobs cried, but it was no use. Mo'Steel slipped from his hold and tossed off Badger's
grip as easily. Jobs had never seen his friend look so crazed, almost possessed.
Rattler crawled to his feet, laughing, muttering. Jobs wasn't sure Rattler even knew what he'd
just tried to do.
Mo'Steel strode over to the drunken Marauder No one else tried to stop him.
And before Jobs's brain could process what his eyes were seeing, Mo'Steel's right arm stuck
out straight before him and Rattler seemed to lean into Mo'Steel's face and Mo'Steel stepped
back and his arm came with him and Rattler crumpled at his feet.
Then Jobs saw the blood slowly seeping from under the crumpled layers of clothing and felt
dizzy.
"J'ou hurt him." That was Badger, crouching now beside Rattler's body. "J'ou get him right in
the gut."
Before Jobs could speak his horror, the women, most wielding a torch, swarmed Rattler's
crumpled body and began to strip it of clothing, tools, and weapons. It was like watching
vultures pick and tear apart the body of a cow, the process both disgusting and impressive in its
efficiency.
Mo'Steel stood panting and watched the women swarm over Rattler's body. Newton and the
other men were staring at him. Mo'Steel felt their eyes on him, felt the mingled emotions
emanating from their bodies hate, grudging respect, a small amount of fear but refused to
meet any man's gaze. Instead, he focused on the crouching women.
Aga, Curia, and Yorka came to Mo'Steel now, laden with Rattler's belongings. Mo'Steel saw a
new look of respect in their eyes.
"This is for j'ou, leader Mo'Steel," Aga said, holding out Rattler's weapon, a long knife.
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Mo'Steel took the weapon reluctantly. But he couldn't bring himself to accept the dead man's
clothes.
"Give the cleanest, best clothing to the kids," he directed, hearing his own voice as from a
great distance. "I want nothing but the weapon for myself. Whatever's left over, let the women
distribute evenly among themselves."
This act of generosity seemed to further impress the Marauder women. Nesia leered at him in
what she probably thought was a seductive way. Even Grost seemed to register Mo'Steel's act
as something extraordinary. She smiled briefly, then covered her face with her hands.
"Say something," a voice at Mo'Steel's ear hissed. It was 2Face. "Say something to the men."
Mo'Steel looked down at 2Face and in the dancing firelight thought she looked like a biblical
demon.
"They got the message," he mumbled.
Then it was his mother before him, face tear-streaked, eyes darker than ever with sorrow.
Olga took his hand in both of hers the hand that had held the murder weapon and
kissed it.
"I'm sorry, Romeo," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Mo'Steel felt the tears begin to flood his eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them away.
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CHAPTER 20
IT WAS TIME.
Newton sat up abruptly. He squinted into the darkness. His nostrils quivered, his fingers
tingled with certainty.
Yeah, the Beasts, they were close. They were close and they were watching.
Newton might not have killed any Beasts, like he claimed, but he knew when they were near
He hadn't expected them yet; he'd thought maybe the band would have to travel farther into
the Dark Zone before the Beasts made themselves known.
But here they were. Maybe the smell of blood had drawn them. Rattler's blood, for a
moment back then Newton had thought the kid Mo'Steel would kill him next. But he hadn't.
Newton scrambled to his feet and was assaulted by memory.
It was a long, long time ago, when Newton was just a kid. He and Hawk had been attacked
by three massive Beasts. Hawk had managed to wound all three. Newton had kept back,
scared, shouting useless insults at the Beasts. Finally, Hawk had emerged from the dark,
wounded but alive.
Newton had never forgotten the look of loathing on his brother's face when it emerged in the
torchlight. Loathing for the Beasts? Or loathing for his spineless brother?
Newton shook off the unsettling memory and roused the band.
It was time.
Soon he would be the leader.
Mo'Steel had been asleep, as deeply asleep as he'd ever been since this stupid journey had
begun.
"Nice timing. Beasts," he muttered, getting to his feet. He began to stretch and flex, allowed
the adrenaline to flow back the adrenaline that had so recently helped him to kill Rattler
Kill to kill again. Was that the phrase? he wondered. Or was it, Live to kill again? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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