Dusk Territories: Always Burning (11 page)

Unexpectedly, River began licking the blood off the man’s face. She had to step on her tip-toes to do it, but she managed. The warm muscle of her tongue caressed his face, being ever so careful of his prickly beard. There were times where her tongue just stayed in one place. Those lengths of time were even inappropriate for a person licking candy. But she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the liquid on her tongue as much as he liked muscles in his teeth. “I’m done! You can open your eyes now.”

“Now, what’re you here for,” Ragnar said, wiping some of the saliva from his face.

“Oh!” River scratched the back of her head, as though she struggled to remember. “OH! I was here to tell you about Mr. Zombieface.”

“Mr. Zombieface?”

“Mr. Zombieface!” she repeated. “I was minding my own business in your territory and I saw them fight.”

“Saw who fight?”

“Your men and Mr. Zombieface, of course! Aren’t you listening?” River slapped him on the ears. “Hello! Are they working?”

“They’re
working
!”

He pushed the taunting aside. Thinking about it, he did see a new face in that crowd that resembled something odd. Ragnar quickly recalled that face in the crowd with the others. There was a corpse like figure new to Drifter’s group. But, he was too far in a blind haze to realize that he might have had something to do with this. He scratched his beard, thinking of how one man could take some of his best men and Beastmaster. He had to be trained well. Not some sort of makeshift training that anyone could learn nowadays. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Hm. No. He’s interesting, though,” River said, hopping happily to her own mental music. “But he’s the one that let swan-lady and Texas hold-up man go.”

“Herons and swans are two different animals, River.”

“Soooo!” She pretended to push the fact away. “He’s the one that screwed up your plans. Thought you should know!”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“If you do kill him,” River tilted her head, “can I lick his bones clean?” She lost herself in a fit of laughter. Ragnar waited patiently for it to subside. “I’ll go watch him for you. I’ll come back with a name and information of some sort! Maybe his favorite animal. Some sort of hobby. His favorite color—”

“Why are you helping me?” he interrupted sternly. Ragnar knew that he couldn’t trust River. Many who had come in contact with her gave her trust equal to a grain of salt. Those that didn’t were either dead or regretted it later. Thusly, he avoided as much contact with her as possible. “You aren’t exactly the most dependable person.” Parts of him wish that he could kill her for being the anti-thesis of a dependable person. She had information, and was going to get more.

“I’m not asking for you to trust me!” River’s face went deadpan for a moment. “That would be stupid.” She rearranged her features again. “But I’ll say this; I get a kick out of it.
You
get another notch on your revenge belt,
everyone’s
happy.” She twirled around, armed stretched to the ceiling, to make her point. She stopped perfectly on her heels, albeit a little dizzy.

Ragnar knew that he didn’t have much of a choice. If Drifter had a new and deadly weapon, he needed to know about it. “Deal for now.”

“Yay! I’ll be back later with some information!”

The deal set, River disappeared into the shadows of the caves, sounds of her skipping echoing in the distance.

He did know one thing about River. Ragnar hated that girl.

6

The Incubus’ Sleep

“History had told us once that men’s nightmares and horrors were caused by demons named the Incubus. The Incubus was known for paralyzing and exposing us in our sleep. Those people who believed in them weren’t far off. Thoughts are the closest things to demons in our head.”

Graham underestimated the efficiency of the Drifter. He knew now, that this was a mistake.

The Caravan had been up and running after the ambush in mere hours. The vehicles and people easily returned to their standard duties and formations. Work was continuing within those hours. Engineers, weapon specialist, machinist, and medics were scurrying around the camp, helping anyone that needed their specific expertise. The swiftness of the executions was amazing. Injured parties were handled in several vehicles to the north, repairing services to the south, and everything else was carried
in between.

At the end of about three hours of preparation, roars of the engines hummed through the air. They were on their way. To where, Graham didn’t have a clue. Ultimately, he decided to stay.

Per his request, Graham stationed himself within one of the Humvees. He felt the most comfortable in that setting and even reclined back a bit like old times. His driver was Raleigh, the man that he met earlier who gave him and the Drifter information on Heron’s and Juvenico’s disappearance. Graham now knew that this man was also the Quartermaster of the Caravan. Though not the brightest man, from the stories of the Caravan, he handled weapons and vehicles with deft efficiency.
Once out of those fields, he lumbered through life as though he was an oversized bear balancing on a beach ball.
But overall he seemed pretty nice, reserved but nice.

Raleigh kept his eyes on the road most of the time. However, he would occasionally steal a glance. It was obvious that he was still uncomfortable. That could be said for most of the Caravan honestly. But they knew that he was relatively good. Besides, Graham had gotten in good favors with the Drifter. They couldn’t deny that. He felt as though he was the hero of a small kingdom; everyone might not trust you, but they couldn’t deny that you slayed a dragon for them. Still, Graham found the need to at least ease himself into the crowd. Making enemies didn’t seem to be the smart thing to do in this world.

Graham watched Raleigh itch at the thick bandage on shoulder. “Don’t do that,” Graham warned. “It’ll make it worse.”

“I can’t help it,” Raleigh grumbled.

“What happened? Sure you don’t want me to drive?”

The blonde haired, thickly shouldered man shook his head. “Nah…” he paused, before adding in a mutter, “Driving and inventory’s all I’m good at.”

Graham bounced as they drove over a large bump in road. “You’re not going to get any better by avoiding it.”

The driver looked at the road, then at his passenger. Words formed on his lips, never leaving. Raleigh’s brow furrowed thinking about what he would say next. “Got caught by an axe, as all. I always get injured. I’m fucking useless.”

“What’d you do before—“Graham searched his mind for the word. “What’d you do before this?”

Raleigh went silent for a moment. “Mechanic and gunsmith, it was the family business.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just got used to doing it…” Raleigh gripped the steering wheel harder. “I heard that you were a Marine.” He pursed his lips, realizing that it sounded worse than he meant.

Was,
I “was” a Marine. What am I now?
“Yeah. Been that way since I was eighteen, never been too great at anything else,” Graham nodded at his foggy memory. “You’re not that used to battle, aren’t you?”

Graham felt an odd increase in speed, Raleigh’s foot heavy. The vehicle slowed after a few seconds. His action received a brief scolding from Crisium over the radio. Raleigh drank in the verbal attack without even a murmur.

But, Graham had received his answer. It was solid yes. The large fellow muttered incomprehensibly as he tried to come to terms with what to say next. Raleigh reminded him of Hacke, Private First Class Abraham Hacke. An Alabama born man, Abraham always grumbled and was more than his share of clumsy outside of battle. The man could barely hold a can of soda without dropping it all over his uniform. When battle came around, he was more focused and stronger than any man that he could ever think of. Fondly, Graham smiled at the thought. His memories weren’t as clear as he wanted, but things were coming back. Maybe, Raleigh needed to focus as well.

“How about I teach you a few things?

Again, the vehicle fluctuated speed, this time lowering. “W-what?”

“I’ll teach you a few things. No. I’ll train you like a Marine.”

Raleigh’s eyes widened as he absorbed the thought.

“You won’t be alone, of course. I’ll recruit a few who feels that they’re slacking in comparison.”

“But I don’t have any special powers or mutations—”

“Don’t give me that excuse again, or I’m going to punch you,” Graham interrupted, suddenly slipping into his stoic, authoritative voice. However, he forgot the added gravel of his tone. So the next reaction was Raleigh breaking out into a sweat as he pursed his lips and focused on the road. Graham put down a mental note. If he was really going to train some of the men and women, that was going to be a real good tool. A living, breathing, drill instructor was already effective, how great would a dead one be? “You don’t need superpowers or—unfortunate mutations—to protect what you want.”

Raleigh nodded in response.

“You just have to have that motivation. If you really want this, I can hammer it into you. How about it? Tired of being useless.”

Raleigh weighed the options in his head for a while, before bursting out in a grin. “Y-yeah—I can do that.”

Graham reclined in his seat, a smile on his grim face. Raleigh wouldn’t be grinning when the actual training started. “So,” he said, offering a change in topic, “where’re we going?’

“A place called the bone…the bone somethin’—“Raleigh grabbed the radio, underneath his wheel. “Crisium—“

“Yes, Raleigh, whaddya want?” the radio crackled in.

“What’s the name of the place we’re headin’ to?”

“The Boneyard, idiot.”

“Where was that in the normal states of our country?” Graham asked. Raleigh repeated the question to Crisium. It took her a good five minutes to respond back.

“Georgia. Drifter has gotten some information on somethin’ there. Something big. Maybe a lead.”

“Thanks, Graham wanted to know,” Raleigh explained.

“Good, if you just were askin’ to be askin’, I was gonna to kick you in the balls.”

Raleigh put the radio down, carefully as though she was going to reach through the speaker and do just that. Simply put, a swift kick to a man’s soft spot brought a man down. Raleigh must have been on the receiving end of such brutality by Crisium. “So we’re going to Georgia,” he said awkwardly. “It’s not long from here, maybe a day or two if we stop a few times.”

“Good. Good,” Graham mentally sorting his thoughts, “Where does Drifter receive information from?”

“Plenty of people.”

“Well that’s specific. Does he tell you where he gets this information?”

Raleigh shook his head. “A few times, he has told us. We tend not to get too nosey, you know. Especially with Wood around…”

Before, Graham couldn’t see why people were scared of Wood. Their reasoning seemed justified now. That form was nothing less than something you would see out of a nightmare. The hulking creature was almost imprinted in his mind, sitting by his equally dangerous master. Drifter sent out a command, and Wood attacked without question. Funnily enough, Graham was used to seeing people take orders, but not like that. In no way did Graham think Ragnar should live especially after viewing his clan’s cannibalism. Drifter, though, took it to the next level. Wood was like sending a pet tiger to maul an annoying neighbor.

The worst part about all of this was that Graham felt that it was necessary. Drifter had enemies. Enemies got you killed. Killing enemies was a part of life. It was their life or yours. Graham snapped himself out of the grim thought. “Any other reasons you guys afraid of Wood….besides the spitting acid, lizard-beetle thing?”

Gulping and staring at the road as though it was an exit, Raleigh whispered, “It’s not what he turns into that bothers us. It’s what he did before.”

_

The Caravan had stopped for a late afternoon dinner. The red sky above them had dimmed down to a deep sanguine color, and the sun teetered on the edge of the horizon. Members of the moving metropolis, at least a hundred or more strong, had dispersed into several smaller groups both in and out of the vehicles. Families and friends gathered around fires, while appointed guards circled the dusty grounds.

Graham helped Raleigh with fitting the guards before getting himself better equipped. Raleigh had scavenged him a digital combat uniform; complete with an assault vest, various pouches, knee pads, gloves, and desert tan boots. When it came to weapons, he was almost in heaven with choices. A few of the guns weren’t in the best condition, but he had managed to find decent conditioned M249 SAW. That pleased him more than anything. He pocketed equipment from flash bangs, smokes grenades, and a knife to his stock pile of grenades he had acquired earlier.
All of this must have come from our armory.

Yet for the first time since his awakening, he felt like he could truly mess some things up.

He cracked his neck, pleased with the weight that he had on him. “Hey Raleigh.”

“Umhm,” the large man said, distractingly. He had been counting the equipment from the Marine Base. If he broke away for a second, he’ll forget what he was doing.

“Going to step out for a moment, gotta talk with someone.”

“’kay.” Raleigh waved him off, and Graham left him to his work.

Graham stepped out into the main circle of the camp, receiving a much better reception than before. A man in a uniform, dead or no, was a welcomed extra protection. Well, at least until night time came along. Graham’s eyes wandered. Drifter was sitting around the largest fire, with Heron at his side, but Wood was nowhere to be found. Only one option remained, he was still in the RV. They were going to have that talk, like he promised. It might not be any of his damn business. But, he needed to understand. That was the fundamentals of a team, a unit, a squad, a band.

With defiant steps, Graham approached Drifter’s Caravan. A few of the guards peered heedfully at him, almost as though he was insane. He knocked on the door. Then again. Then again. This continued until finally, the scrawny, tall man loomed over him. He was surprisingly better presented this time—the closest idea of formal he could get. The long blue jeans and large tank top drooped over the sleepy eyed beast as though he was wearing curtains instead of clothes. “Ah,” Wood exhaled, “Uncle told me you were coming by.”