Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Read online

  We no sooner hit the truck bed before one of the rescuers jerks up the tailgate and yells, “Hang on.” He bangs on the side of the truck, bellowing at the unseen driver, “GO!”

  Leeches slam against the sides and back of the vehicle, furious in the realization their buffet is getting away. But there's no time to worry about them. Trying not to topple over on top of Badger, we drag him to the back of the bed and lay him flat. I sink to my knees, removing my jacket as I go and stuff it under his head.

  “Doc!” Luke bellows, but they're already elbowing their way to us.

  “We need light here,” one of them snaps and a couple of flashlights ignite at his request. Someone hands one to Doc H, and he holds it as Roger examines Badger's wound.

  “I need something to staunch this blood,” Doc Roger commands.

  I turn my head, yelling over my shoulder, “Somebody—give us a shirt.”

  Don't know who responds, but a T-shirt is tossed my way. Taking my knife, I quickly cut a couple of strips off, passing the rest of the shirt to Doc Roger. He presses the makeshift bandage into the wound, applying pressure and ignoring Badger’s moans as he ties it off with the strips.

  “Fuck. This hurts like a sumbitch. Now that I know what live bait feels like, I'm never going fishing again.” Badger's attempt at a joke is negated by his pale, sweaty face highlighted in the flashlight's beam.

  The truck swerves, and I grab Luke's solid frame to steady myself as I get to my feet. Holding onto the metal bar above my head with an iron grasp, I finally take stock of our surroundings. There are ten of us, including our rescuers and Scruff crammed into the small space.

  “Mark two, you read?”

  The voice comes from the tailgate of the truck. It sounds young and female, and the crackling response tells me she has a radio.

  “Yeah, we hear you loud and clear. Did you get them all?” the person on the radio asks.

  Them all? As in all of us?

  “Affirmative. Everyone is accounted for. Time to bail the party. We're headed out of town. Meet you back home.”

  She's right. We are out of the town limits. The truck’s headlights illuminate nothing but trees and fields of darkness. Not quite sure which way we’re traveling. I'm discombobulated; my sense of direction screwed up.

  “You all right?” Luke leans his head toward mine and puts his hand in the middle of my back for support. I can't read his eyes in the dark, but there's no mistaking the concern in his voice.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, as I hang on for dear life, my mind racing. “I mean, I guess so. What the hell just happened? And who the fuck are these people?”

  I can feel him shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is they just saved our damned asses.”

  I grip the knife in my free hand a little tighter. We don't know who these people are. They came after us on purpose if the radio operator is to be believed. They may have saved us from the horde, but it could be they have a far more sinister plan for us. Hell, they could be ravagers for all we know. That would be just our fucking luck, to have been pulled to safety by a bunch of bastards that want more than our blood.

  No one else speaks as the truck drones on into the darkness. We should be pestering them with a thousand questions, but the loss of adrenaline and overload of shock holds us mute. Even Badger's moaning has stopped; he's possibly passed out. The silence is broken only by the slapping of the huge tires on the battered asphalt. About fifteen minutes later, the truck starts to slow down and rolls to a stop. What the hell? We aren't that far away from the leeches to stop. What are they doing?

  “Why the fuck are we stopping?” Dom shatters the silence, asking what I'm thinking with his usual tact.

  A voice floats out of the dark from back at the tailgate. The radio operator again. “This is as far as we take you. Everyone out.”

  A moment of incredulity follows the command.

  “Are you fucking kidding us?” Luke's voice is deep and gravelly. His pissed off voice.

  “Afraid not. We got you out of town. Now you're on your own. And try not to do something as stupid as getting cornered by a horde again, okay? You may not be as lucky the next time.”

  When none of us move, another voice chimes in, “Out of the truck, now!” A flashlight flickers to life again, blinding us.

  This voice is harsher and more forceful. Like if we don't do as it says, the owner of it will have no issues with turning us into chunky salsa like it did with the leeches. Yeah, this guy definitely has a stick up his ass.

  “And go where?” Luke demands, shielding his eyes from the unforgiving light. “The town with all of our supplies is overrun. We can't go back there. Plus, what the hell do you expect us to do with our injured man?”

  “Not our problem,” Ass-stick responds. “And he's not that badly injured. Not like he's gonna bleed out or anything.”

  “The injury itself is probably not life threatening, no,” Doc Roger joins in on the conversation and the beam flickers his way. “But if this man doesn't get proper treatment soon, infection will set in. If you kick us out now, you'll be sending him to his death.”

  “Like I said, not our problem.”

  “Then why don't I fucking make it your problem, asshole.” I try to step toward the figure hiding behind the light, but numerous guns suddenly appear in my chest and face, stopping my advance. I hear my crew cock their own guns behind my back in retaliation. I also know the dry cycling is a ruse since we're all out of ammo. I just hope the others don't know that. Luke grabs my arm and pulls me back.

  “Everybody just calm down.” I hear him take a deep breath, heeding his own advice. “Okay, look. I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Thank you for saving us back there. We owe you a debt none of us can repay. But you can't just dump us out here with a wounded man. You may as well just drive us back to town and serve us to the leeches. It'll be the same result. Why would you save us just to send us to our deaths?”

  “Lewis, he's right.” It's the girl again. The radio operator.

  Her words kind of make me want to laugh. Ass-stick's name is Lewis? He doesn't sound like a Lewis. I don't know why I find that so funny. Maybe because all I can think of is the bespectacled geek from Mom’s favorite old movie Revenge of the Nerds. All we need now is a Poindexter to make this perfect night complete.

  “We were only supposed to watch them. You know we can't take them back with us.” Ass-stick shuts her down. “It’s not part of the plan and totally out of the question.”

  “Part of the plan?” Her harsh laugh tells me she's got a bit of a backbone. “We've already went off plan by saving their asses. Kip is not going to like it knowing we interfered and made ourselves known without permission. So what’s a little more improvising? And we can't just let that poor guy die.”

  “Polly's right.” A different voice speaks up this time. “We've brought them this far. I say we take 'em to the farm. They don't seem to be a threat. Kip will understand.”

  Kip? What the fuck is a Kip?

  “The rest of you agree?”

  Affirmative murmuring indicates they do, much to my relief.

  Lewis sighs in resignation. “Fine. But I'm gonna let Kip know that I was outvoted on this. If these douche bags cause any sort of trouble and we have to kill them all, it's on your heads, not mine. As for you bunch,” he turns our way as he bathes us in the flashlight’s glow. “Before we go another inch, hand over your weapons and move to the back of the truck. You try anything funny, we shoot you all and dump your carcasses for the ravagers. Any questions?”

  Well, not exactly a promising start to a new friendship. I knew our rescue was too good to be true. My momma always warned me never to trust a stranger in a truck. I'm hoping for once she's wrong.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  No one wants to be the first to concede. Giving up your weapons willingly is kind of like chopping off your own arm. Painful and damn stupid. Not having much of a choice though, we do as the voices order. If we want them to
trust us enough to take us with them, we have to yield. They're the ones holding all the cards at the moment.

  The flashlights follow our every move as we throw down our weapons and crowd together in the back with Badger. With the truck rolling over the crater-scarred road, we kind of bounce and fall into one another. But shadows sweep in and take our guns and knives as soon as we pull back. Luke starts the conversation flowing, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  “Thank you again for saving us. My name is Luke. Luke Whitman. And this is my crew. Kelly, Bix....”

  “Shut the hell up,” Ass-stick snarls. “We don't fucking care if the Pope is with you. Just because we're letting you stay in the truck doesn't mean we want to talk. Save your gabbing for the farm.”

  Luke totally ignores the command and yammers on like he's making comments about the weather. “This is quite a surprise. An actual running truck. I haven't seen a moving vehicle in years. That's amazing. Not to mention how you people have access to fuel that's actually stable enough to use. How is that possible? And who are you?”

  “Seriously?” Ass-stick sounds more than a little pissed off now. “Do you people not know the meaning of stop talking? Say one more word, and I swear I will throw you out of this truck myself into a nest of those damn leeches.”

  His statement finally shuts Luke up. I guess he's wondering, like me, if the dude's serious or not. Would he be crazy enough to save us only to throw us back to the leeches? Then again, crazy seems to be the norm nowadays. Maybe we should zip it and wait this out. Last thing I want is to be tossed from the truck like Mardi Gras beads.

  I guess the rest of my crew feel the same since we continue on in silence. The voices in my head refuse to give up their insistent questioning, however, and I can't stay quiet any longer.

  I lean over and whisper urgently at Luke, hoping the roar of the engine will keep our captors from overhearing. “Do you think this is a good idea? What if they're lying to us and they really are ravagers? This whole 'rescue' seems damn suspicious to me. Maybe begging them to take us with them is exactly what they want.”

  “Bix is right.” Gordon leans toward us. I can see him now that my eyes have become accustomed to the dark. “Maybe we shouldn't trust them.”

  “You don't have any say in this, you little shit-stain,” I huff at him, sticking an angry finger in his chest. “I ought to smack you silly right now. What the hell were you thinking, following us like that? And putting Evie in danger as well. I've seen you do some stupid things, boy, but this? This is by far the stupidest.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe if you assholes had treated me like one of the team, I wouldn't have had to follow you and we wouldn't be in this predicament,” he whispers back.

  “Don't you try to turn this around, Gordo.” It’s an effort to keep my voice down. “Once we get out of this truck, I am so going to whoop your stupid ass.”

  “As much as you fuck knuckles amuse me, I think the kid’s stupidity is the least of our worries right now,” Robyn interjects from the other side of Gordon.

  I really hate it when someone besides me is right, especially Robyn. I bite my tongue to stop myself from lashing out anymore.

  “Calm down, all of you. If they really wanted to harm us, they wouldn't have saved us. I don't think they're ravagers. There's just something about them that doesn't set off any alarms. Besides, Badger doesn't have any other option right now. He needs that wound treated, so like it or not, we need their help. And look, Scruff doesn't appear to have any issues,” Luke says.

  He’s right. I can see Scruff's silhouette in the moonlight as he goes back and forth between the two rescuers crouching by the tailgate, getting ear rubs and back scratches galore. He's loving the attention.

  “Maybe they're just softening him up for the kill,” I mutter under my breath, but Luke's gentle laugh scoffs at my idea.

  “Ye of little faith, Bix.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven't seen a whole lot over the years to trust in, I guess.”

  He fumbles for my hand in the dark and laces his fingers through mine. “Well, I'm asking you to trust in me, okay? Let’s not overreact. I have a good feeling about this.”

  “Fine. But when it’s your leg roasting over a fire pit, I'm still going to tell you I told you so.” I let his laughter wash over me with familiar reassurance.

  I have no idea in what direction we're moving. But wherever this farm is, it doesn't seem to be that far. The ride only lasts about an hour, but most of it covers a fair distance on some backwater dirt road. We must finally reach our destination since the truck starts to brake, and we slowly pull to a stop.

  Curious, I turn to look over the cab of the truck. The truck’s headlights reveal a rusted metal door blocking the dirt road. It appears to be a monstrosity of a thing, extending far beyond the circumference of the headlights, possibly fifteen feet high or more. The metal is dented and corroded in spots but still exudes a not-to-be-fucked-with vibe. Yeah. There's no way we're getting past Go on this unless the Monopoly gods decree so.

  A tiny red light appears in my peripheral, and I turn my head toward it. Before I can ask, the quiet that has accompanied us these last few miles is broken as the radio squawks to life again, scaring the crap out of me.

  “We see you. Confirm your identity.” The disembodied voice sounds bored as hell like this is just another day at the office.

  “Mark One here,” Ass-stick responds, having apparently taken over the radio. “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod reporting back.”

  What the fuck? I snort a little, and a few of my crew join in. That's the password to get in?

  “No visual on Mark Two,” the bored voice continues, not finding that response half as entertaining as we do.

  “They'll be here. They stayed behind to clean up. We had a bit of a party.”

  Mark Two. The ones that we heard on the radio earlier and possibly another truck? Seems we are dealing with a fairly big and organized group here. One that has a fortified compound and running trucks but don’t have a clue about coming up with decent passwords.

  “Did you follow the targets?”

  The question is followed by a pregnant pause. Targets? Meaning us? Why the hell are we considered targets?

  “Yes,” Ass-stick finally answers. “But let Kip know there was a….change of plans.”

  “Change of plans? How so?” The voice shows interest for the first time.

  “Let’s just say we have a few extra mouths to feed for breakfast.” Ass-stick tries to sound like he's joking, but I can hear the underlying strain in his voice. He knows this Kip isn't going to be happy with the change in plans. Meeting Kip suddenly worries the hell out of me.

  “Fuck, Lewis. You made contact? You know that's a big no-no unless Kip authorizes it.”

  “Yeah, well, the plan got messed up. It was either bring them with us or leave 'em as fodder for a horde. Plus, we have an injured guy here needing medical attention. Now open the gate and let us in.”

  “Nu-uh. I'm not letting anyone in without Kip knowing you have them with you.”

  “What the hell? Seriously, Dan? Then go get fucking Kip, already,” Ass-stick snaps with impatience.

  “No need to get your panties in a knot, Lewis.” The voice is heavy with undisguised laughter, which only seems to irritate Lewis even more. I decide I like this Dan person. “Tyrone is on his way as we speak to inform Kip. Remember, patience is a virtue.”

  Lewis mutters something under his breath, akin to calling Dan a “practitioner of fellatio,” and then broods in irritated silence, awaiting his answer. He doesn't have to wait long.

  “Lewis, you still there?” The radio crackles to life again.

  “No, I've gone skinny dipping at the beach.” The quick break from Dan has obviously done little to improve Ass-stick's temperament. “Of course I'm still fucking here.”

  To my disappointment, Dan doesn't respond with his own smart-alecky remark. Instead, he ignores Lewis's sarcasm. “Opening the gate now. Kip says to
bring them straight to the big house. Got it?”

  The big house? Despite Luke's reassurance that we have nothing to fear, I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

  * * *

  The compound we enter must be fairly spacious since we don't reach the big house right away. Turns and corners force us through at a snail’s pace. Everywhere I look there are buildings of some sort. More than I would have thought.

  We finally pull to a stop. Our captors file out ahead of us and line the tailgate on either side as Lewis yells at us, “Out.”

  One by one we climb out of the truck only to huddle in the dark. Right away we're approached by two guys who appear out of the night with what looks like a stretcher. Without a word to us, they jump into the back of the truck and start loading Badger onto it.

  “Where are you taking him?” Luke questions, as they maneuver Badger out of the flatbed. His solid form blocks their path, making them quite aware they’re not going anywhere if he doesn’t like the answer.

  “That's our medical facility right there.” Lewis points at the white building on the other side of the truck. “If you want him to be treated, that’s where he needs to go.”

  “I'll go with him,” Doc Howarth volunteers. This seems to appease Luke somewhat and he steps out of the way, letting them pass.

  Someone from the truck throws my jacket at me before we get herded in the opposite direction. I have to crane my neck to check out the behemoth shadow rising in front of us, blocking the moon and stars that should have been directly overhead. The building is massive and at least three stories. The Dan dude was not exaggerating when he called it the big house.

  Cracks of yellow light filter out around the shuttered windows on the first two floors, giving the house a lit jack-o-lantern look. Definitely inhabited, but the shuttered windows tell me that they don't want the light traveling and drawing attention. Pungent odors drift on the slight breeze, reminiscent of the farms on the outskirts of town when I was little. No mistaking the smell of cow shit. But I really can't remember the last time I saw a cow. Do they actually have cows here?