Tempting Trade, page 2
part #1 of Desolate Lands Series
I wanted to ask him what it mattered. What the advantage of being married to the Prime Minister of a failed state was supposed to be? We would spend our entire lives hiding, afraid of the people we were meant to serve. I wanted to go to America, somewhere I could live a relatively normal life. Or New Zealand, or Australia, both of which had closed their borders in time, too. There were vast swathes of Russia and areas of the Middle East not affected, either. But Russia was run by gangs, and the Middle East was like The Handmaids Tale come to life since The Collapse. State after state turned into a complete hell-hole for women. We weren’t much better. Not really.
I didn’t have to cover myself, but I had to behave respectfully. Modestly. And how I hated that word. Simon screwed his way around the girls on campus who weren’t terrified of being outcasts for having sex before marriage, and he was lauded for it. The girls he had sex with were viewed as damaged goods. No man of honor would take them.
I spent my life being someone fake. I didn’t even know the real me half the time. Modest, good, maybe a little spoiled in some ways, totally controlled in others. And scared. Always scared that it would all end and we would find ourselves out in the wastelands beyond the compound. Our existence was precarious at best, but the only way to survive that day in and day out was to push it to the back of our minds and focus on the small stuff. Or we’d simply go insane
The bus rattled around the corner. They were old now, badly maintained, and half the time running on fumes. I looked through the grimy windows to see Blake sat up front. Hair polished and slicked to one side.
Three massive guards were at the front of the bus, two at the rear. I sometimes wondered if these guys were spliced in some way. There were those amongst us who had been…genetically altered.
Before the virus happened, some of our top soldiers and police were taken and given animal DNA to try and create a race of super soldiers.
They didn’t change form or anything, or so my dad assured me. They did have enhanced musculature, along with the night sight of a big cat, the hearing of a bat, and the scenting skills of a damned bear. Trouble was, they might have looked completely human, but in reality, their DNA was odd to say the least.
I shivered to think these guards might not be fully human, but then, they were better than what waited outside the thirty-foot fences surrounding the whole of the south side of the city.
I climbed on the bus, my legs heavy, not with fatigue but some form of creeping fear. I’d been feeling it for a while, and it only worsened as time went on.
Something whispered in my ear and blew its cold breath of dread on the back of my neck. An ancient warning that something bad this way came, but I couldn’t quite hear the words it tried to form. It stalked me day and night. I’d wake from strange dreams, confused and disoriented, only to find myself in my bedroom at home. Maybe, I was losing my mind. Enough people did these days.
The airless interior of the bus made me want to vomit. It was added to by the stench of diesel from the rumbling engine. I wanted to sit by my friend Mary, but Blake gave me his patented smile, all bright and white. He was a handsome young man, no one could deny as much, but he didn’t do it for me. With a sigh, I headed toward Blake.
I glanced at one of the guards at the front, the one with the scar down his cheek, and my body involuntarily shivered. A shiver partially of fear, and partially of something else, something darker that I didn’t want to examine.
At night, in my fevered dreams, it wasn’t Blake who touched me, caressed me, but some nameless, faceless, rough man. Big, and scary, he’d take me until I begged him to stop, begged him never to stop. I’d awake sweating and shaking, not sure if in fear or arousal, or both.
I knew the dreams weren’t about the guard with the scar, because despite never seeing my dream lover’s face properly, I saw snippets. He possessed long hair, tied back in leather bands, and a short beard. I felt the rough scruff as it scratched at my neck when he nipped at the sensitive skin there. Saw flashes of his hair as he left me drained of energy, boneless and spent. Now and again, I’d catch a glimpse of a roguish smile, and strange eyes the color of whisky. Nothing concrete though. Nothing I could recognize if the man passed me in the street.
I’d experienced vivid dreams for a long time and they often contained an element of the truth to them, but the ones with my dream lover were different. Insistent. As if trying to tell me something I couldn’t grasp.
Right after the Collapse, when states waged war against their own populations, trying to stop all out revolution by instilling so much fear people wouldn’t rise up, I got sick. Ended up spending weeks in hospital.
Afterward, the dreams began.
I told Mum about them, about the monsters I saw. People who looked human, but frothed at the mouth and screamed and wailed as they tried to bite us. She used to laugh at me and tell me those things weren’t real. Then I dreamed about a bomb in America, and it happened a week later.
When the virus hit, Mum told me to never tell anyone about my dreams.
I was supposed to have regular checks at the hospital, but it collapsed, overrun by the flesh eaters. We hadn’t named them at the start, they became called Foamers later, due to their vile propensity for foaming at the mouth. My appointments never happened, and Mum and Dad said it was a relief, that they didn’t think I ought to be seeing any more doctors if it could be avoided.
So, my dreams became a kind of dirty little secret. That suited me fine, particularly as my most recent dreams had indeed been rather dirty.
“Morning, Milly.” Blake’s smooth tones raked my skin like gravel. I should welcome his attentions, but instead they grated on me.
I forced a smile, knowing I was being unfair to him. He only ever tried to be nice.
“What classes do you have today?”
“Medical,” I told him. I wanted to be a doctor. To fix people, but Mum and Dad believed it was too dangerous. Doctors were often exposed to the virus, and they wanted me to be a teacher instead. To work with the young in our community.
I’d decided on a third way–become a vet. There were still plenty of families like ours who had managed to keep their beloved pets. And for wealthy families like Blake’s, their horses and pedigreed dogs and cats were well cared for as a sign of their status.
I could do something good with my life and not simply be a trophy wife. After all, it seemed a crime to waste a free education on nothing more than marriage to a man I didn’t love.
I hadn’t told my family this yet, but I would. I decided to tell Blake now. See how he reacted.
“I know my parents don’t want me to be a doctor, but I love animals and I thought I could study to be a vet.”
He turned to look at me, and for the first time I saw something other than the affable friendliness I’d come to know him by. Steel shone in his blue gaze. “No wife of mine is going to be allowed to spend her days with her arm elbow deep in horses and cows. Sorry Milly.”
He slumped back and turned to look out the window. He said nothing else, leaving me stunned. It proved to be the first time he openly referred to our upcoming nuptials, and the way he did so angered me.
I’d always owned a quick temper, along with a propensity to speak and act before I thought it through, and Mum said it would be my downfall one day.
“Well, I hope whoever your future wife is, she’ll be happy with your rules and regulations,” I snapped.
Blake turned his gaze my way once more, slowly. His voice was low, with anger vibrating in his words. “It’s already a done deal, Milly. I’m about as happy at the thought as you seem to be, but we don’t have a choice. You’ll marry me, I’ll fuck you, put my seed in you, and we’ll have beautiful babies to carry on our family’s legacies. And if the stars align, you’ll be the wife of a very important man. But understand this, you’re not my type, and I won’t take any crap from you. The rest of the world might think you’re some beautiful princess of a girl, but you don’t do it for me.”
I found myself so shocked, I didn’t say anything in return. His words about me not being his type genuinely surprised me given the way he’d looked at me over the past year. He’d convinced me he liked me in that way. If not, why agree to the marriage?
“What’s your type?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Dark hair, dark eyes, tall.” He paused, then smirked and lowered his voice even more. “Male.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“You heard me. You say anything about it, I’ll deny it and claim you’re trying to get out of the marriage because you’re sullied.” He sighed. Then closed his eyes and took hold of my hand before looking my way once more. “Look, Milly, I know you aren’t attracted to me, yet you’re still going to marry me. So why does it matter if I’m attracted to you or not? We can make this work. We’ll make little heirs, and then you can do what you want so long as you are discreet. Mother would faint at the thought of you being a vet, but she’d probably love it if you were on the board of some animal charity. Trying to help all the animals deserted by their owners. So, you can still do good and get to spend time with fluffy little things. I expect the same freedom in return. Count yourself lucky I’m not one of your slathering fanboys who would want to be mounting you every night.”
Ugh. When he put it like that… As I thought about what he said, I felt a massive weight lift. The arrangement could be perfect. I wouldn’t have to sleep with him regularly, and he was right, he wasn’t my cup of tea, either.
“So…” He nudged me. “What’s your type?”
I didn’t reply, but my eyes strayed to the guard with the scar. Blake followed my gaze and his brows popped up. “Wow. Wouldn’t have put you down as one of the mutant groupies.”
So, he thought those guys were enhanced, too! Altereds as they were called. Not that anyone openly admitted it or talked about it. But we all suspected some of our guards had been experimented on to become the super soldiers of tomorrow.
“I’m not.” I whispered. “It’s not him, but…” I broke off, unsure if I ought to trust him.
“Fuck’s sake, Milly. I just told you I’m gay. A banishing offence these days, so I think you can admit you like a bit of a tiger in the sack.” He grinned at me, and it shone out of his face, natural, and joyful, and beautiful. If he’d smiled at me like that all the time, I might have fallen for him a little.
“It’s not him, or any of them, but I have these dreams about some big, rough man. I don’t see his face, but I feel his presence. It sounds crazy, but I think if I ever met him, I’d recognize him on some level.”
“Well, if you ever meet him, so long as you’re discreet, you have my blessing. But I’m afraid you can’t be a vet. Mother would never allow it.”
“Life sucks these days, doesn’t it?” I said.
“It does.” He nodded and squeezed my hand.
No one was allowed to be openly gay anymore. Or God forbid, barren. Barren women were made to serve as maids and nannies for those who could have children, no matter how high a family they came from. Barren men were sent to work in the worst jobs, the re-opened mines, prisons, and the outlying hospitals where the virus ran rampant. I would be getting my own fertility check in two months when I hit twenty-one, and I didn’t see the need to be nervous. There was no reason to believe there would be an issue, but even if there was, worst case scenario, I’d end up as someone like Blake’s children’s nanny, instead of their mother.
Since the virus had ravaged so many, the healthy ones left were supposed to breed like crazy to save the human race.
“It sucks,” Blake said again. Then he tossed a wry smile over his shoulder. “But it could be way worse.”
I looked out the window, toward the towering wire fence as we neared the most perilous part of the journey–the section closest to the metal barrier separating us from the chaos outside. To think people lived out there, trying to survive without adequate protection from the infected, or the outlaw gangs roaming rampant. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked away.
The bus jolted and jerked a split second before a dull boom filled the air. Then we were flying, or so it seemed. My stomach lifted into my throat as the bus left the ground.
What the hell?
“Get down, get down, brace,” the guard with the scar yelled at us.
They never spoke, but now he was shouting at us. I did as he said, I followed his command without question, something that seemed so natural to me. He told us to duck and brace, and I did what we were taught on the flights I used to take before everything went to shit. I bent forward and put my hands over my head.
When the vehicle hit the ground again, the breath rushed from my body, and my teeth clacked together so hard my jaw screamed in protest.
“Fuck,” Blake shouted next to me.
The groaning of rusted metal filled the space before the bus tipped alarmingly to one side. My full weight pressed against Blake who had been smashed up against the window.
For a moment, all went quiet. It was as if time itself stopped. The bus ran along the road, balanced on one set of wheels. Then with another metallic groan, it tipped all the way, landed on its side, and skidded along the road with a deafening screech of metal and glass on concrete and gravel. The window by Blake’s head shattered and he screamed.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I began to panic. My weight must have been making things worse for Blake.
I tried to lift my weight, to stop crushing him against the broken glass, but I couldn’t haul myself up.
“Oh, God,” someone cried.
Finally, we came to a stop. We were still on our side, but without the forward momentum of the vehicle, I could grab the seat in front of me and pull myself away, holding onto the metal with both arms, to try and take my weight from Blake.
Sticky, red blood flowed down Blake’s neck, and I realized it came from his face. He’d been cut. Shit. “Blake?”
I scrambled about on the seat, holding myself up as I pulled my t-shirt off, leaving me only in my bra, but I didn’t care. Gently, I lifted Blake’s head with one arm, still holding onto the metal of the seat in front with the other, and tried not to cry at all the thick, slippery blood coating my fingers. I placed my t-shirt under his head and gently let him back down.
I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. The vehicle filled with smoke in front of my eyes. Sobs and cries echoed all around. I caught the eye of the guard with the scar, and began to call him over when blood bloomed on the center of his forehead. His mouth fell open, and he went down onto the floor with a crash.
What the hell?
A group of men stormed the tipped over bus through the smashed-in front door. They must have had to climb up to get in. I felt a moment of hope, but one proper look at them snuffed it out.
They were not from our compound. They were not our saviors.
They were filthy, wearing clothes that more closely resembled rags. Their skin was dirty, and their hair hung in greasy tendrils. One locked eyes with me and opened his mouth in a broken toothed grin.
Oh, yeah. Things could be much worse.
Chapter Three
Milly: Smash and grab
Two of the men stared at me, then looked at one another with sleazy grins. They rushed me, and pain hit as the fingers of one squeezed around my biceps. The second stood in front of me, greasy and stinking. He grinned, showing yellowed teeth before taking a rag out of his pocket and wrapping it around my eyes, cutting off my ability to see. “She’s a fine find,” he grunted as he tied it tight. “Fetch a pretty penny. Beautiful fucking hair. Rare to see such colors.”
My hair was naturally blonde with gold and red shot through. Mum told me it looked highlighted, but of course it wasn’t. No one had the time or inclination to mess about with putting foils in hair these days. Unlike my thicker than average body, I liked my hair. In that moment though, I hated it. Wanted to cut it off and burn it, instead of having to feel thick fingers running through it and smell rancid breath wash over me.
“I’ll take her with me.” Mr Biceps-squeezer muttered. “There’s quite a few other possibilities down near the back. Kill the others and make it quick.”
At his last words everything in me froze. Kill the others. Kill the others. It ricocheted around in my head, bouncing off my skull, making me dizzy and sick. Kill the others.
Simon. Blake.
I began to sob, but couldn’t cry any longer when a meaty hand slapped over my mouth. “Shut up, bitch.”
This was a different voice, deeper. One of the other men must have come over to me.
“Lookee here,” he said. He leaned over me, his fetid odor making me gag. “This smart little boy is Blake Daneforth. Take him, too. He’s worth a fortune. And take the boy and girl behind, they look pretty enough to fetch some good money. The boy will do well for us in the Middle East with that hair.”
He was talking about Simon, who possessed pure blond hair. At least Blake and Simon would survive. I swallowed down my tears because they couldn’t help me. In that moment, I needed to focus, and try to find a way to escape, although they were now binding my hands, too, making it hard for me to do anything. I was blind, bound, and helpless.
For the next hour or so, no one spoke and I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen to me. I’d been thrown into the back of some sort of vehicle, some other people chucked in next to me, and then they set off, heading for God knows where. Out of the compound for sure.
Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore without losing my mind, the vehicle slowed. It rumbled down a gravel path, the popping of the stones audible over the noise of the engine. Cigarette smoke reached my nostrils and I wanted to puke.
“I told you not to light up in here,” a stern voice uttered.
