As The World Dies - Siege Part 11

* * * * * Jenni loved the aftermath of the lovemaking with Juan. They always lounged around in the bed, naked and tired, grinning at each other. She painted her toenails, one foot propped on his knee as he read a book, buried under the covers. A cold front had finally hit just after dark and the room was cold. The covers were wrapped around her waist, but she enjoyed the coolness on her skin.

"Blanche was giving me s.h.i.t again today," Jenni said after a long bit of silence.

"Yeah? Why?"

"She was clean up crew tonight after dinner and ragged on me for not putting my plate into the proper bin. Then she ragged on me for a bunch of other stuff. I stopped listening after the 'stupid spic' comment."

Juan looked over at her and frowned. "I thought she just called me that."

"No, no. She calls everyone she thinks is Mexican a spic. Including Rashi, the Indian guy we picked up the other day."

"That woman is such a b.i.t.c.h," Juan growled. Putting his book down, he rubbed Jenni's leg gently as she finished polishing her toenails. "Her husband has just been sulking, but she's on a f.u.c.king warpath."

"Too much drama," Jenni said with a frown. "Though, her husband actually did something nice today. He stopped trying to file a claim for the return of their Hummer. Peggy told me."

Juan laughed and shook his head. "You wonder if they realize what is really going on."

Flopping back on the pillows piled behind her, Jenni giggled. "Stupid people doing stupid things, huh?"

Juan flipped the book off the bed. "Yeah, but we are keeping them alive for some reason."

"Entertainment value!"

"Are your nails dry yet?"

"Um...no...why?"

Juan looked at her toes, then said. "Eh, f.u.c.k it. You can redo them." He leaned over and kissed her deeply, pulling her close.

With a grin, Jenni wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss.

3. Time to Go Rune awoke with a start. His hand automatically gripped his Glock as he sat up and pointed at the figure at the end of the bed. As his brain sputtered into wakefulness, he blinked his eyes to focus them. The room was dark, but the figure at the end of the bed was a black blot. He nearly expected it to moan and reach for him, then realized he wasn't facing a zombie.

Flipping on the lamp next to the bed, he stared blearily at the man standing at the end of the bed. Expect for being transparent, he looked just like any other person living in the fort. Setting the Glock down beside him, Rune sighed softly.

"What do you want, buddy?"

The man opened his mouth, silent words forming.

"You need to speak up. I can't hear you."

The room grew steadily colder as the apparition tried again. It managed one word.

"Help."

The figure then lost its tentative hold on the physical world and vanished.

Sliding his legs out of bed, Rune shivered as the room grew steadily colder. His breath turned to mist and he whispered, "Dammit." Standing, he grabbed up his jeans and boots.

The room began to fill with shimmers of light and shadow. He felt the whispery touch of the dead as they gathered around him.

"I can't help you," he said shortly. "I can't hear you. I can't help you.

Stop pestering me. Either talk to me or leave me alone." Frustration and despair filled him as he shrugged on his leather vest and reached for his heavy jacket. The delicate touches of the dead fluttered over his skin. He tried to shrug them away, but they were persistent.

The room was unbearably cold. Cussing under his breath, he grabbed his motorcycle bags and headed toward the door of his hotel room. He had never unpacked, antic.i.p.ating this moment.

Striding down the hall, he saw the air rippling around him. A few of the spirits drew enough energy to actually grab his arm, but he shrugged them off.

In the beginning, he had tried to help the ghosts he encountered. Slowly, he realized that the spirits were simply trapped. Nothing he said to guide them helped. The whole world had been filled with death, altering everything beyond the world of the living.

Ignoring the elevator, he headed down the stairs. His boots heels sounded like thunder rolling through the stairwell. The spirits were losing energy quickly, basically burning themselves out trying to hold onto him.

He hit the bottom floor, cut across the lobby, and headed toward the door exiting to the construction site.

As he entered what had once been a janitor's closet, he was startled when a hand grabbed his arm in an iron grip. Yanking his arm away, he was. .h.i.t with a gawdawful stench. His Glock was already in his hand and coming up for a killing shot when he heard Old Man Calhoun mutter, "I can't remember!"

"What the h.e.l.l, Calhoun?" Rune shoved his Glock back into his holster, frowning at the old codger. He had given him a terrible fright.

"I can't remember something important. And it's eatin' at me!" Calhoun let go of him and shoved open the door to the construction site. "I saw something long ago and then again a few days ago, and I know it was something important. It's important because..." He faltered, obviously struggling to grasp a flitting thought. Plunging into the night, the old man seemed to be chasing after that thought.

Rune sighed and followed. He headed toward the stairs that would lead him over the wall into the area where the fort secured all its vehicles.

Calhoun ran back and forth in front of him, hands outstretched, grasping at the air.

He didn't feel the ghosts anymore, but they would catch up. His only real hope for any peace of mind was to head out into the deadlands and keep changing his location. Leaving the fort so soon was an annoyance. He had allowed himself the luxury of becoming a part of the community for a few days. Maybe he had even deceived himself into believing he could stay. It was a d.a.m.n shame he had to go. He would miss Maddie and Dale.

Calhoun suddenly came to a stop and turned around. "The Wh.o.r.e of Babylon. That was what it was about. She was cohorts with the one that ended up killed in a woman's dress. She..she..." He faltered, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. Clutching his hands to his face, Calhoun wailed. "I can't remember. It was...it was..."

In the distance a rooster crowed, long and loud.

"Chickens!" Calhoun exclaimed. "Chickens!"

Rune blinked, then shook his head. The old guy was in a tizzy and there was nothing he could do for him. It had to suck to have lost your mind.

He climbed up over the wall and entered the huge parking area from which the teams were launched. His bike was in one of the old newspaper garages. The doors were open and he headed inside to uncover his bike.

As he pulled the tarp off, he heard a noise behind him and quickly turned.

It sounded like a door opening, but he didn't see anything through the gloom.

"h.e.l.lo?"

There was no response and he shook his head. The d.a.m.n ghosts had him spooked. Securing his bags to the bike, he took a deep breath. It was that time again and that was all there was to it. No time for regrets or fear. He rolled his bike out into the open air, noting that the sun had began to slowly peek over the horizon.

"Heading out, Rune?"

It was the old guy named Ed.

"Yeah. Time to go."

Ed stared at him thoughtfully. Behind him, the sentries were charging out on the wall; the early morning crew was arriving to work on the wall reinforcements. In Ed's gnarled hand was a steaming cup of coffee. Rune would kill for a cup right now, but he didn't feel like stirring up the ghosts anymore than he had. It was hard enough keeping focused when he had to deal with one or two. He couldn't deal with a whole town's worth.

"Well, you're welcome to stay," Ed finally said.

"Yeah. I know that. But it's time to move on. I can't stay long in one place. My nature don't permit it." Rune felt that was explanation enough.

"I understand. I'll see about getting the gates open for ya." Ed moved off.

Rune straddled his bike and tugged on his thick leather gloves. The braid of white hair fell over one shoulder as he zipped up his leather jacket and made sure to keep his neck covered. As he finished getting ready to head out, he sensed someone standing near him.

Looking up he saw a woman with short brown hair smiling at him. Her long black dress flowed to her shiny black boots and ornate jewelry decorated her neck and wrists.

"d.a.m.n," he whispered.

"We'll let you know when it is time to head back," she said in a clear, melodic voice.

Rune slowly bobbed his head, mesmerized by the woman. "Okay."

"You'll be needed later," she continued.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Stay alive. You're needed on this side."

"Okay." Rune noticed that the edges of her figure blurred slightly. Still, he swore he could touch her if he tried.

Ed stepped through the apparition and she vanished. "Get ready. We'll open the first gate and once you're inside, close it, then open the second.

Area is clear of zombies, but be careful. Got Katarina, the sniper, watching out."

"Gotcha. And thanks, man." Rune clasped hands with the older man, then gunned the motorcycle to life.

"You're always welcome to come back."

"I think I will head back one day. Kinda...got that feeling." He pulled on his goggles as Ed nodded his head and walked on.

Once free of the gates, his bike roared down the abandoned streets of Ashley Oaks, away from the fort and into the deadlands.

4. The Wh.o.r.e of Babylon For once, Jenni dreamed blissful dreams. Secure in Juan's arms, she slept deeply and did not awaken once.

Juan left early in the morning, leaving her to sleep in. Jenni briefly remembered him kissing her lips before sliding out of bed. She also remembered him kissing her again before he left. When the alarm clock went off two hours later, she groggily climbed out of the bed, naked and disoriented.

After a long hot shower, she pulled on her work clothes and fussed with her hair. The night before had been wonderful and she felt amazingly at peace. Juan was too wonderful for words and she couldn't help but be happy.

The knock on the door startled her and she walked over and flung it open expecting to see Katie. Instead, it was Blanche.

"Oh, hi, b.i.t.c.h." Jenni couldn't imagine what Blanche wanted.

Blanche smiled at her. "Hi, spic," she answered.

Jenni never saw what hit her, but suddenly the world swirled into darkness and she felt herself falling.

* * * * * The two men with Blanche pulled Jenni up off the floor and half-carried, half-dragged her down the hall. Blanche walked swiftly behind them, her hand gripping the kid-sized baseball bat she had used to club Jenni. Her husband was cowering near the service elevator down the hall, and she gave him a fierce look.

"Are you sure-" he started.

"Yes, Stephen" she said sharply.

She was very sure. After all her hard work the last few months, she was d.a.m.n sure. Things would have gone much better if that idiot Shane hadn't gone after the lesbian, but oh well. Blanche had been paying Shane, Philip and three of their buddies in money and s.e.xual favors (she always did like it rough). In return, the men stored food and supplies at her mansion in preparation for her return. The fort never realized how much the men had diverted to her old abode. Then Shane screwed up, leaving her to make do with his three lackeys. They were simple men who worked on the salvage runs when they weren't working on new construction. After Shane had called the wrath of the fort down on his head, Blanche had kept a tight reign on her three remaining minions. She liked to think of them as minions. It empowered her.

"Ray, go get Juan. Meet us in the garage near my Hummer," she said to one of the men. He was the scrawniest of the three, but amazingly good in bed.

"Gotcha," he said, and hurried off.

"I don't understand why we need her," Stephen said in a voice that made her want to claw his eyes out.

Blanche was good at manipulating people and she had done her best to keep herself and Stephen isolated from the rest of the fort. It allowed her to plan her return to the mansion without much interference. Stephen had been the easiest to manipulate. G.o.d help the poor man, but he really did love her.

"Because, her spic boyfriend controls the gate and if we have her with us, he will do what we say."

G.o.d, he was a total idiot. The only thing he was good for was managing her money and making more of it. He definitely had not done anything to help her out during these hard months at the fort. He had tried to get Travis to give them the Hummer and supplies behind her back, but he had failed, of course. He was lucky he had not brought the fort authorities down on them or ruined her plans. That had nearly happened when Linda, searching for the Imotrex, almost found the contraband the boys had been smuggling to Blanche. The scene she had to make afterward to cover up had been ridiculous, but it had worked.

"Then we let her go?" Stephen asked.

"Of course not. I need someone to clean the mansion," Blanche said with a laugh.

The service elevator opened and they stepped inside. Brewster and Johnson flanked her, Brewster holding the unconscious woman under one arm. Blanche straightened her dress a bit and checked her shoes. She was wearing snake skin boots with her dress and she admired them with a sigh. Soon she would have all of her lovely things back.

Including her Hummer...

The doors snapped open to a back hallway and they moved swiftly through it. Stephen followed, clutching their bags. He was at least good for that.

Pushing open a back door, she stepped into the small courtyard between the hotel and the newspaper building. The new wall rose up enclosing the courtyard and blocking her view of the town, but she didn't care. She was done with this s.h.i.t town.

Johnson ran ahead of them and opened up the doors to the newspaper office. He had picked it open the night before and it swung open on freshly oiled hinges. Blanche strode confidently inside and walked down the long narrow hallway, barely paying attention to the old offices. Again, Johnson ran ahead and opened up the door to the loading dock that was now used as a garage. Her Hummer sat there, beautiful and waiting for them among the rest of the s.h.i.tkicker vehicles the fort vermin had collected.

Stephen rushed over to the board where all the keys hung and grabbed the ones for the Hummer. At least he was good for that much, Blanche thought bitterly.

"Pack the Hummer, get ready to go," Blanche said tersely. "And do what we planned, okay?"

Stephen nodded and obeyed.

"Hey, once we're out of here, what are we doing with him," Brewster whispered to Blanche.

"I'll take care of him. He's deadweight in this world."

Johnson handed Blanche the revolver with the silencer she had specifically requested from her mansion. She took it with a smile.