Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands (22 page)

In the end Ed left the grave unmarked. Given enough time, everybody ended up in an unmarked grave.

* * *

Ed, Zach, Jeremy and Trish sat in a corner of the large communal room Tex had provided them. Ed wondered if he should have inserted himself into the center of the group, engaging the others. He supposed that was what a real leader would do, but he didn’t feel particularly like a real leader at the time, not with so many dead under his direction.

“Dad, do you think these people are okay?” Zach asked. “Tex and the others?”

“I think so,” Ed said.

“Not like those people at the church?” Jeremy added.

“No, not like them.”

Trish touched Jeremy’s cheek. “You did what you had to back there. You saved our lives, all of us.”

Jeremy nodded. “I know. I didn’t want to kill him, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did exactly what you should have done,” Ed said. Ed hugged him close. “You’re a hero. Everybody here owes you their lives. Never forget that.”

They broke their embrace and Jeremy spoke. “Do you remember when you used to tell us stories about St. Louis?”

Ed did, vividly. Sitting around fires along desolate roadways, listening for the crack of a stick in the nearby woods, eating cold soup from cans. Holed up in abandoned houses, the former occupants often lying in the next room, their bodies desiccated and shriveled. Those stories about the city by the river kept them all going, their hopes up. “That didn’t work out so well in the end, did it?”

“Hawaii will. I’m sure,” Jeremy said.

Ed placed a hand on the boy’s head. “I hope so, buddy.”

“Nobody could have known what would happen in St. Louis,” Zach added. “Not even you, Dad.”

The words coming from Zach sounded so grown up. The people his boys had been when they set out from the border town a lifetime ago were almost gone now.

“We’ll get there,” Trish said. “And we’ll do it together.”

Ed smiled. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “Together.”

There was no way Lester could have seen any of this coming, but that didn’t make him feel any better about things. He lay on his back on a hard floor, surrounded by darkness. The sounds of others filled the room, their coughs, their grunts and groans, their whispers.

It was the cacophony of humanity and Lester hated that sound.

Lying awake, he cursed himself for being too greedy. He’d wanted Chloe to be the perfect kill, to strike at the ideal moment. But he waited too long. Once that short little prick with the rifle rounded them up it all ended. He’d never get Chloe alone now, no way. She’d never allow it, not with all these other people around.

He wasn’t a prisoner, but that didn’t really help things. While he could leave, he didn’t want to, not without Chloe. He’d come too far now, invested too much time, too much energy. Lester wasn’t much of one to believe in destiny, but he did feel that a connection had been made. He needed to finish this, otherwise he’d never be able to forget about it.

Lester considered his options as he stared into the darkness, trying to ignore the smell of the others in the room. He’d never be able to do things right if he tried to get Chloe alone in their new surroundings. Someone would catch them. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself with the threat of someone stepping in and breaking up the party. Like a teenager jerking off in his bedroom, door unlocked, hoping his parents didn’t barge in.

No, he’d have to get her out of the building, away from prying eyes and nosey do-gooders. Only then would he be able to take his time, to allow her to fully realize her fate and give him that beautifully tragic look he lived for. That look of acceptance and resignation. If he couldn’t get that, there’d be no reason to do it at all.

There had to be a way. They couldn’t watch all the time. Eventually he’d find his chance, provided he could remain patient.

That was always the hardest part.

Patience.

* * *

Lester barely slept through the night, his mind simply too wrapped up in thought about how to handle his most recent episode of bad luck. He spent a couple of hours contemplating, planning and executing those plans in his mind before sleep finally took him. He concocted multiple approaches he might use to ensure he could get Chloe alone and separated from the others, including Sam, who’d become more faithful than a golden retriever. Scenarios played out over and over again in his mind. He knew that when the opportunity presented itself he had to act without hesitation.

He also knew it was likely now, with so much in his way, that he’d fail.

The rational part of his mind, the part not consumed with bloodlust, told him that he could simply walk away. The rest of the group would never miss him, nor would they look for him. He could then move on to an easier kill, simple as that. Though farther and fewer between, these women were out there. That part of his mind reassured him, nudging him toward a pragmatic judgement call.

But logic and reason found a locked door in Lester’s mind. It occurred to him that perhaps he’d become obsessed. He already knew that he was probably crazy, compared to the rest of the population at least. He could entertain this notion and still live. Not everyone who was crazy persisted in complete ignorance of their mental affliction. Crazy or not, perception of reality was reality, and Lester Delaney’s reality centered on a singular purpose now. And because of this he found himself willing to take any risk necessary.

Lester’s opportunity presented itself at daybreak, a simple trip to the bathroom. Nothing so elaborate as to even resemble the scenarios he’d tossed around in his overactive mind the night before. The others in the room slept, light snoring resonating from a few of the meatballs lying on the floor, stinking the place up. What little sleep Lester had gotten proved light at best, so when he heard the rustling of blankets and the pattering of feet on linoleum the sound might as well have been an alarm clock.

Lester’s eyes sprung open to see Chloe tiptoeing away, toward the restroom. Calling it a “restroom” required some stretching of the imagination. It was really just an outhouse, missing only the half-moon cutout in the door. Tex (a stupid fucking name) had constructed it just outside the building, behind the fence surrounding it. One of the first stops on the “tour” he’d been given after arriving at the compound.

Although he couldn’t be absolutely certain she was headed toward the outhouse, he reminded himself that he couldn’t hesitate. If her destination turned out to be a potty break, then this might be the only chance he’d have of catching her alone. He’d already screwed things up by hesitating. He wasn’t about to do it again.

Lester threw back the covers gently and got to his feet, stepping lightly as he pursued his quarry.

* * *

Lester followed Chloe as she cut through the hallway within Tex’s building. He felt his pulse quicken as he closed in on his target. Once he got close enough to make his move he would move fast. It surely wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken a woman. He had trained for this sort of thing and he was anything but inexperienced.

He stayed far enough behind her to avoid her turning around and seeing him, but close enough so as to not lose her. The building was small and there were only so many places to go. Besides, he knew where she was headed.

Chloe reached the end of the dimly lit hallway, turning right. Lester hurried carefully after her, ensuring his footfalls couldn’t be heard. The carpeted floor helped with that. He glanced around as he lightly jogged after her, ensuring no one followed.

At the end of the hallway, Lester stopped and peeked around, just far enough to catch a glance of his prey. He saw her, walking, blissfully unaware. His heart hummed in his chest, his fingers tingled and his dick raged with a hard on more intense than anything he’d felt in months. A grin spread across his face.

The hallway ended at a set of double doors that led to the outside courtyard area. There the outhouse sat near the edge of the property, perhaps a dozen feet away from the fence’s edge. Lester allowed Chloe to open the doors and walk outside. Light from the morning sun filtered in, illuminating the hallway. Then the door closed and the light dimmed.

With the doors closed and Chloe now outside, Lester got himself moving. He continued quickly and carefully down the hallway, staying close to the wall where the shadows were darker, where he always felt more comfortable.

At the end of the hallway he stopped and peered through the narrow, rectangular windows set within the door. He had to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun, but through a squint he could make out Chloe’s form as she headed toward the small building near the fence.

“There you are,” he whispered to himself. He formulated his plan as he stood, watching. He could certainly put her out cold once he got his hands on her, but what then? He looked at the fence surrounding the compound. Way too tall to climb with an incapacitated fourteen year old girl slung over his shoulder. He scanned the fence line and found nothing resembling a gate.

The more he thought about it, the less ideal his plan became. Getting her out of the compound would be next to impossible. The place had only a few entrance/exit points and those would be guarded. There was no way he would be allowed to carry out an unconscious girl.

He recalculated. Did he really have to knock her out? He might be able to threaten her. What were her weak points? She was a tough girl, but she had a soft spot for the boy. Threatening Sam could be enough to get her to comply. He could tell her he only wanted sex, she might believe that. He was sure she already thought he was creepy enough for that sort of thing. But could a threat to Sam get her to climb the fence and leave the compound with him?

Think!
he shouted at himself in his head.
Find a way!

He saw the door to the outhouse open. How could she be finished that quickly? How long had he been there staring, contemplating his next move? Long enough to finish her business? His obsession was making him sloppy. Part of his mind told him that, but he ignored it. She was right there. So close. Each step she took toward him brought her that much closer.

He should leave. Turn back the way he came, down the carpeted and slowly brightening hallway. Back to the group of fucking morons with which he’d gotten himself stuck. Back to pretending to be meek and harmless. Back to watching Chloe from afar while he imagined her throat opened up and pouring blood.

Before he realized he’d done it, he opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard, into the warm air and bright sunlight. He could smell the outhouse already, its odor already pungent and sharp, even before the temperatures rose. He felt himself take a step forward, toward Chloe. She kept her head down, her gaze focused on the ground below her.

Thirty feet away. He could make out her budding breasts through her thick shirt.

Another step.

Twenty feet away, her neck the color of cream. White, silky, smooth.

Perfect for his blade.

He could feel it building, like an orgasm that can’t be denied. Building from within, gaining momentum, passing the point of no return. There would be no stopping any of this. Perfect or not, the time had come. Lester removed the knife he’d reclaimed after being taken in by Ed Brady’s group, feeling the familiar heaviness in his hand. He could almost see the skin splitting under the razor sharp metal, the blood spilling forth in a curtain.

The look in her eyes. Oh, that look…

Ten feet away she looked up and saw him.

She stopped, her eyes wide and knowing.

Lester sprung, the knife clutched in his hand like an extension of his body.

Chloe recognized Lester as a creep from the moment they’d met him, but when she saw him walking toward her with a large knife in his hand and a look of murder in his eyes, it still took her by surprise. She froze, still trying to process things, but Lester kept coming toward her. Sunlight flashed off the knife’s blade as he raised it, preparing for attack. A grin stretched across his mouth, his eyes dark, cold and empty.

“Don’t move!” a voice called out from behind Lester.

Chloe looked past Lester to see a young man with a machine gun in hand, holding it at Lester’s head. She hadn’t even noticed him approach. Lester stopped, knife paused.

“Hands up!” the man said.

Lester didn’t move.

“I told you to get your hands up. Do it or I’ll shoot you.”

Chloe heard hesitation in the man’s voice. He was young, maybe no more than eighteen, not much older than she.

Lester raised his hands. “You’re making a mistake,” he said. Chloe heard no tremor in Lester’s voice. It chilled her.

“You’re the one who made a mistake, buddy,” the guard said. “Tex told me to watch you guys, that some of you couldn’t be trusted. Looks like he was right.”

“Son,” Lester began, “the best thing you can do for yourself right now is to just turn around and go back. You can’t stop what’s happening here. You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.” He turned quickly to face the man with the gun, his back now toward Chloe. The man jumped and took a step back, raising the barrel higher.

“Don’t do that!” the guard cried. “I swear I’ll shoot you!”

Lester paused. He cocked his head to the side. “Turn around. Go back inside. While you can.”

“No way. You’re coming with me.”

Lester shrugged. “Have it your way then.” He began to lower his hands and then he shifted. He turned to the side quickly, lunging forward with the knife. The guard fired off a single round and Chloe let out a little scream. Lester crossed the short distance between himself and the guard within a second, plunging the knife into his stomach as he wrapped an arm around the man’s neck. They both went down hard to the grassy ground.

Chloe watched the struggle, rooted to the spot. It all happened so quickly that she could barely process it. Grunts and growls came from the two men as Lester clawed at the man’s face, his former meekness belying his animalistic aggression. A moment later Lester straddled the guard’s chest, the knife clutched in his right hand. Lester brought the knife down, burying it to the hilt in the guard’s chest. The guard let out a small gurgle as blood erupted from his mouth.