The Survivalist - 02 (11 page)

She waited. Were they still nearby? Did they know where she was? Had they killed Tanner? No, of course not, she thought. He was meaner and tougher than anyone she had ever met. Her bodyguard, Oscar, had been big and strong, and was probably some kind of kung fu master. But he was nothing compared to Tanner. Tanner was like a donut without the jelly filling—just hard through and through.

She waited for a few more minutes, listening. The only sounds were her breathing and the steady drip of water from a nearby drain pipe. Then she heard something else. A soft weighty pat of someone, or something, walking without shoes. It reminded Samantha of how her own footsteps had sounded when she wore moccasins at summer camp. And there was an odor too, a powerful musky stink that was so pungent that it seemed to soil the air.

It must be some kind of animal, she thought. Maybe it was one of the gazelles? The smell grew so strong that her stomach heaved. Certainly, something as cute as a gazelle couldn’t smell so awful. Images of monsters of every size and shape came to mind. Werewolf? Maybe. They stink, right? Maybe a troll. Surely, they don’t bathe regularly. She closed her eyes, telling herself that there were no monsters. Other than zombies, of course. Maybe it was just a dog, like the ones they had encountered on the highway. Yeah, that was probably it. She felt better. It was just a dog. A really stinky one.

A long deep growl sounded. It was so loud and so incredibly powerful that she knew with certainty that whatever made it was much larger than any dog. And it was close.

She held her breath as small beads of sweat started to form on her brow.

The heavy footsteps slowly circled the Jeep. She could just barely see the creature’s four legs moving in the dark. They were big and covered in a thick, smooth fur. The creature moved cautiously, as if unsure of exactly what it had discovered.

A massive head pushed under the edge of the Jeep, sniffing loudly. Samantha’s heart pounded so violently that she was sure that the creature could hear it. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes as fear threatened to overwhelm her.

She clutched the shotgun that Tanner had given her. This was his fault. He had done this to her. How could he have sent her off into the dark filled with all kinds of evil creatures, armed with nothing more than an unloaded gun? She felt anger growing in her belly. She decided that she wasn’t going to trust him anymore, and she would tell him so too. As soon as they were back together, she would give him an earful all right.

The terrifying growl sounded again, resonating through the entire frame of the Jeep. Samantha was now convinced of one thing. Whatever stalked her was not of this world. Tanner had told her that there were no such things as monsters, but that was simply untrue. What other explanation could there be?

The creature stopped and sniffed under the car again as it tried to make sense of her scent. Confused or maybe just disinterested, it stood back upright. Then it peed. A stream of dark urine sprayed onto the side of the Jeep, pooling into a huge steamy puddle.

Samantha covered her nose and mouth with one hand to keep from vomiting. The smell was so strong that even breathing through her mouth offered little relief. Her eyes watered, and her tongue tasted as if she had dipped it in a bottle of ammonia. She finally retched, holding the vomit in her mouth, afraid to let it spill out. This forced her to breathe through her nose, and for a moment, she thought she might vomit again. Samantha closed her eyes and prayed.

Momma said I should call on You only when it’s really important. I know You’re probably busy telling the Pope what to do, but I hope You can spare a minute to help me. I’m not asking for much. Just make this monster go away. I’m too small to fight it, and the protector You gave me isn’t here. God, please . . . please help me.

Tears streamed down her face, but she stayed completely still, waiting for her small miracle to happen.

The massive creature circled the Jeep again, this time slow and deliberate, as if weighing its options. When it came back around, it gave another deep growl before leaning down to sniff the pool of urine. Apparently satisfied with its wet deposit, it wandered slowly off into the night.

CHAPTER

11

Mason sat on a queen-sized bed covered with a handmade paisley bedspread. The decorative quilt looked like something a grandmother would make as a keepsake for her children. For all he knew, that was exactly why it had been made. Whether that grandmother or her kids were still alive was anyone’s guess. Alexus had put him up in her own home, which was centrally located in the center of York. Despite her overt hospitality, she continued to keep him under armed guard. He could hear the two goons sitting outside the bedroom door, talking about how their chances of playing for the NFL had significantly improved, now that all of the professional players were dead.

He went to the window and looked out. The main strip through town was lit by the fuel-burning lanterns that he had seen being hung earlier. A few people still moved along the street, taking care of any last minute business. Mason was genuinely impressed with what Alexus and her militia had accomplished in just a few short weeks. While the world was busy dying, she had established a small outpost that was now well positioned to survive and carry on. Admittedly, she was a ruthless dictator who enforced her will using a hangman’s noose, but, still, Mason gave credit where credit was due.

He checked the window and found that there was no locking mechanism. To open it, he simply rotated a small handle. When the window was fully extended, he leaned out a few inches to make sure that his chest would fit through the opening. Directly beneath the window was an awning, and below that was the front door. He didn’t think it would be terribly difficult to lower down and drop to the ground. While he didn’t appreciate being taken prisoner, at least he had been confined to the minimum security ward.

Mason weighed his options. He could stay put and see how things played out. Given what he had seen so far, though, his gut told him that doing so would not end well. Admittedly, he didn’t know what Alexus had in mind for him, but she didn’t seem inclined to send him on his merry way. For a reason he didn’t fully understand, she felt the need to exercise control over him. Whether it was pure ego or part of her militant agenda, he didn’t know or care. The only thing that mattered was that she had taken his freedom.

His only other option was to try to escape. When everyone was asleep, he could slip out the window, find Bowie, his truck, and, if possible, his Supergrade. Once he had what he needed, he could just drive away into the night. No harm, no foul. She hadn’t yet crossed a line that couldn’t be forgiven.

The challenges with that plan were many. Even though York was a small town, he had no idea where they were keeping Bowie. That meant he would have to convince someone to reveal the dog’s location. As for his Supergrade, that required finding Coveralls, something that might prove even more difficult unless the big man was still on patrol. Fortunately, his truck would be the easiest of the three. The last time he had seen it, it was parked directly across from the town’s cemetery, not three blocks from where he now stood.

Mason heard Alexus’s voice coming from outside the bedroom door. He quickly closed the window, stripped off his shoes and shirt, and flopped down on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. Within seconds, she opened the door and slipped inside. The two NFL wannabes peeked in after her with obvious concern. She motioned to them that she would be okay as she pushed the door closed.

“They’re worried you’re going to attack me,” she said with a probing smile.

“I don’t beat on women.”

“I know that.” Alexus was wearing a long white cotton nightshirt that hung down to her knees. And, from the looks of the soft curves protruding from underneath, that was all she was wearing. “Comfortable?” she asked.

Mason patted the bed.

“It’s fine. Once I get a little shuteye, I’ll be back to my normal self.” He faked a yawn.

She walked over to the window and looked out, as if knowing exactly what he had been doing before she came in.

“Nice night. Calm and quiet. And the full moon’s beautiful. It’s a night to be enjoyed, don’t you think?”

He wasn’t sure what she was getting at but thought he saw an opportunity.

“Maybe we could go out for a stroll,” he suggested. If he could get her out on the street, not only might he find an opportunity to escape, he might also extract information about where Bowie was being kept.

She turned to face him, the unmistakable look of desire in her eyes.

“That’s not what I had in mind.”

She sauntered toward him like a runway model, letting his eyes feast on the delicate curves of her body as the nightgown slid across them. When she got to the bed, she sat on the opposite side and gently leaned back against the pillows. The nightgown slid up her thighs, showing rich creamy skin beneath.

“Tell me a little about you, Marshal,” she said.

He rolled onto his side and studied her. Alexus was a stunningly beautiful woman, long brown hair, full tender lips, and a voluptuous body begging to be explored. Of course, all that was on the surface. He felt certain that something darker lay beneath.

“Not much to tell, really,” he said, working to keep his composure. “I’ve been a marshal for seven years. Before that, I was a soldier.”

“Did you see any action?”

He thought of his time in the Army’s 75th Ranger Regiment, of the faces of people who had fallen on both sides.

“Some.”

She reached over and put a hand on his. It was warm and soft, like she’d just finished rubbing down with coconut butter after a hot shower.

“When I look in your eyes,” she said, “I see a strength that’s rare in what’s left of this world. Truth is, it was rare even before everyone died. You’re someone who could give orders, a man who others would follow. That’s a problem I have around here.”

“What’s that?”

“We have a very limited pool of men in York. Of those who remain, none have charisma or any sense of leadership. They’re sheep waiting for someone to tell them what to do.” She squeezed his hand. “I sense you’re not that kind of man.”

He shook his head, a hard look coming over his face.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It was soft and tentative, as if she just wanted a quick taste of his mouth.

“What kind of man are you?” she said, pulling back a few inches to look in his eyes.

Mason did what was expected of him. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, feeling the warm press of her lips and the electric touch of her tongue. His mind raced with possibilities. His first thought was that she was dangerous. If he offended her, she would have him swinging from the gallows by morning. Of that, he had no doubt. If he bored her, it might be even sooner.

Ava, his girlfriend in Boone, also came to mind. He did not want to betray her, even if it was to save his own skin. Women just didn’t understand that sort of self-preserving logic when it came to sex.

In his years of fighting other people’s wars, Mason had found himself in a number of tough scrapes. He credited his survival to a keen ability to read situations and react accordingly. There were times when bullets needed to fly and others when a few choice words had pulled his butt from the fire. In this particular case, Alexus was accustomed to getting what she wanted, and having her accept any kind of rejection would be a trick for Houdini himself. Mason thought he saw a way, but it was certainly not without risk. If she didn’t react as he expected, things would quickly go sideways. There was an even greater risk that he would be unable to see it through. Sometimes treating fire with fire worked. Other times, it just caused things to get really hot.

He reached out and grabbed her by the small of the back, pulling her body against his. She moaned, surprised by his sudden aggression. He continued to kiss her, probing her mouth with his tongue. He moved over to nibble her ear and then started biting the soft flesh of her neck.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed heavily.

He slipped his hand up her gown and began exploring her soft, sensuous body. For several minutes, he fondled her with a mix of finesse and unrelenting aggression, like a master fencer wielding a broadsword. She winced from the rough handling but never stopped squirming under his touch.

He slapped her bare butt, and she squealed in pain and delight.

“You bastard!” she exclaimed, biting his lip so hard that it started to bleed.

Then Mason did the unexpected. He suddenly rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed.

Alexus was confused, her breathing shallow and rapid.

“Wh-what is it?” she asked, the lust heavy in her throat.

“Not tonight,” he said, looking off toward the window, as if suddenly disinterested.

“
What?
” She sat up and put her hand on his shoulder, pulling at him. “What are you talking about? We were—”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired tonight.”