“Neither are you,” the black man said, his eyes intense and penetrating. “I’m sure you know this is the No-Go Zone.”
“Oh yeah, I know,” she said, flashing a look at the dead cannibals littering the area around her feet. “But I had to run somewhere. I really wasn’t worried about where I was at the moment, only that I didn’t want to be there, if you know what I mean. A girl’s gotta act when the creatures attack.”
The dark-skinned hunk snickered, a smile taking over his mouth. “Frost sent us out, wondering if we’d see more of them after last week.”
The fat Rambo guy spoke next, looking at the leader. “At least we know our sights are zeroed in. I don’t know about you, Fletcher, but I wish there were more of them. We could certainly use the practice.”
Summer wasn’t sure about those comments. Killing was killing and it was all wrong. However, she was thankful these men showed up when they did. Otherwise, she’d be part of some cannibal’s all-natural granola breakfast. One filled with bones instead of nuts. “Nobody seems to know where they come from or how they survived.”
“I guess it’s true, like Doc says. Life finds a way. Whether it’s cockroaches, coyotes, or Scabs,” Fletcher said, his tone comforting in some strange way. His hawk-like eyes turned soft, peering deep into her soul. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Summer,” she said, her lips responding before she could stop them. Maybe it was his striking looks, or his tenor. She couldn’t be sure, but she wanted him to know her real name. She could have made up an alias, like a wayward stripper at a seedy club in the red-light district she’d read about in one of her books. But for some reason, she wanted to stay legit and play it straight. At least part way, until she knew more.
“We should take her with us,” Fat Rambo said, interrupting the conversation. “Probably get a good price.”
Fletcher pointed at Summer’s chest. “You see that, Slayer? We can’t.”
Summer peered down and realized her Infinity Chain had popped out from her sweatshirt—again. She tucked it away.
Fletcher continued his explanation to Slayer. “She’s one of Edison’s group.”
“Ah, fuck that. Nobody will know. Let’s take the necklace and sell her for supplies. Then get some chow.”
“Slayer’s right. We should sell her,” a third man added, nodding in Fat Rambo’s direction. He looked Hispanic, his skin weathered and bronzed, with a hint of redness. Probably from the lack of sleeves. Or the relentless wind. “I’m starving.”
Summer glanced at Slayer’s belly hanging below his beltline. Fat Rambo is obviously hungry a lot, she mused, her eyes tracking the hands of the men standing above her. All it would take was one flinch, she figured, to bring about what she decided to officially call Summer’s End.
Fletcher sent a steely-eyed stare at his men. “We all are, but nobody here is breaking the treaty. Frost would have our heads.”
Slayer’s face flushed red, filling his oversized cheeks. “So . . . we just let her go?”
“Roger that. We have our orders.”
“Then why did we waste all the ammo?” the Hispanic man asked.
“Should have just let them eat her skinny ass, though it does look yummy,” Slayer added with a twisted mouth, his eyes scanning her figure.
Summer was about to say something to the pervert, but Fletcher beat her to it. “Nobody takes a step. That’s an order.”
None of the men answered, which Summer took to mean Fletcher’s orders ruled supreme.
Her apprehension melted away. So did her nervousness.
Fletcher pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip and held it by the barrel, aiming the grip in her direction. His eyes locked with Summer’s. “Here, you should take this. Just in case.”
“What are you doing, boss?” Slayer asked.
“I’m not getting blamed if something happens to her out here. That’s a good way for your insides to end up on the outside.”
Summer shook her head, holding her hands up in a stop signal. “Thanks, but I can’t.”
Fletcher flared his eyebrows. “Why? Because it’s against the rules?”
She shrugged. “Something like that.”
“I don’t understand why Edison sends you out here without a gun.”
Summer shot a look at the corpse closest to her feet, then at Slayer. “Normally, it’s not an issue. At least, not until recently.”
“Still, Edison’s a smart guy; why would he not arm his people? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Because he hates guns. Especially in the hands of those of us with no training. It’s pretty simple, really. Unless you’re former military, like Krista and her men, you get squat. At least we have food and a roof over our heads.”
“Well then, he’s a hypocrite.”
“Why? Because of Krista and her security force?”
Fletcher nodded. “Edison’s not afraid to use force when it suits him. Or protects him.”
“It’s not like that at all. They’re only a last resort.”
“I doubt that. I’ve seen her kind before. Krista is a ticking timebomb. I hope you know that.”
Summer laughed. “Yeah, well, you should talk. You cruise around with enough guns to start a war.”
“Or save young girls from the Scabs.”
She smirked. “Well, there is that.”
“Why did you let them corner you here?”
“It wasn’t my plan, trust me.”
“Should have headed for the Trading Post. Heston and his crew would have protected you.”
“Was thinking about it, but everything happened so fast. Didn’t exactly have a lot of options. I’m sure you know Scabs don’t send out a warning bark to let you know they’re closing in.”
“That’s why everyone needs a weapon. You never know what’s out here.”
“I appreciate your concern for me and all, but it’s really none of your business.”
“Apparently.”
Slayer cleared his throat.
Fletcher peered at him.
Slayer pointed at the top of his wrist, where a watch would have been if the world hadn’t ended, rendering batteries and other technology a luxury.
Fletcher nodded, looking annoyed. He holstered the pistol. “All right, let’s move out. We’ve got a meet-and-greet to cover in the morning and I want everyone frosty.”
With that, the men disappeared from view.
A few minutes later, engines roared and tires squealed as they peeled out. Summer decided they must have parked a distance away, probably to sneak up on the Scabs. Maybe they’d been tracking the Hunger Gang for a while. That’s how they followed them here. It was the only explanation she could muster, given their perfect timing.
“White knights,” she mumbled, remembering a book she’d read a few weeks ago. Only today’s saviors were anything but the good guys. Normally, that is. Plus, some of them weren’t white. They were a mix of races and skin tones, actually—a hodgepodge of brutes.
Summer closed her eyes for a few moments as her mind latched onto an image of Fletcher floating inside her memories. She couldn’t believe how the black man’s eyes seemed to dig into her soul, reaching down to a place that had been hardened like stone. She’d never felt a sensation like that before. It was both scary and reassuring at the same time.
What she’d just visualized and felt didn’t make sense, but it filled her heart with hope. Not only had he saved her from the Scabs, but he’d kept her safe from his own men.
He didn’t have to do either, but yet he did.
She smiled, tucking a lip under.
CHAPTER 3
Simon Frost finished his trek across the warehouse and shoved the door to Ben Lipton’s lab with a forearm shiver. It flung open and smashed against the wall.