Soulless (The Immortal Gene Trilogy Book 1) Page 21

  “You hungry?” I pulled my head away from the window as the scarred woman offered me a bowl of porridge. “Here, it’s still warm.”

  I took it and shovelled the slush into my mouth without taking a breath. She smirked and took a long sip of her coffee, looking me up and down as she did.

  “What?” I spluttered with flying bits of porridge.

  “Oh, nothing. You know, I have some spare clothes that may fit you if you’re interested?” I glanced down at my tattered shirt and pants saturated with mud, sweat, rainwater and who knew what else. Every time I moved, a layer of crusty dirt broke off.

  “Err… thanks. Who are you people, exactly?”

  “How about you tell me who you are first?” She twisted around herself and pulled Vance’s I.O.S jacket from behind her chair. “You’re not I.O.S. I know that much. Did you steal this? Were you their prisoner?”

  “I wasn’t their prisoner,” I argued.

  “What happened there?” she asked, suddenly serious.

  I shuffled back into my chair and pushed the bowl away. “You mean the fire?” She perked her brow. I continued on, bluntly, “A researcher called Walter betrayed them and organised an ambush with a group of thugs. Only Diesel and I got out, but they must’ve followed us into the woods. Those were the assholes you killed, but there are a lot more of them back at the I.O.S camp.”

  “Oh my God! All those people!” She bowed her head with a soft gasp. “Did only you two escape?”

  “That I know of.”

  She stood up from her chair. She was slim, only an inch or so taller than me. “We are comrades with the I.O.S. I’m Mary. What’s your name?”

  “Nadia.”

  “Do you mind if I scan you?” She dug her hand into her pocket to grab her phone. I jumped back so fast that I accidently kicked my chair over. Instinctively, I grabbed the spoon and throttled it as a weapon. She quickly took her hand away.

  “Don’t.”

  “You’re a fugitive?”

  “I’m not blacklisted if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She showed her hands as a show of peace. “Okay, okay, I promise not to scan you. I can understand someone wanting to stay out of the eyes of the Elite. Everyone has their little secrets.” Mary proceeded to step around me as she motioned with a tilt of her head. “You act tough but I can tell you’re not dangerous. If you like, I can give you a tour of the place? After you change your clothes of course and have a shower.”

  Accepting her offer, I went to the bathroom and peeled my sticky clothes off. There were holes and stains on them that couldn’t be washed out and a lingering smell that melted in with the fabric. Thankfully, Mary was about my size as she gave me some of her old work clothes. The shower was bliss. I took twenty minutes and scrubbed every surface of mud-covered skin. The gunshot wound on my leg had been stitched up, and the medication they gave me lessoned the infectious swell that pinkened my skin. I tilted my head back and drank from the stream. My hair was so badly knotted that I had no choice but to cut it again. The shaven patch had grown somewhat so the roots didn’t stick out of my head like bristles on a hairbrush. I combed my hair down but it kicked back in its usual defiance.

  I caught up with Mary as she took me around town for the tour. Within the brick walls, the town operated their own water mill, which generated their own electricity. There were also farms stationed on the far side where they grew vegetables and wheat. Inside the paddocks, were herded cattle and sheep beside old barns, and children no older than eight played among the haystacks. As I walked, I felt eyes shift over me and my knuckles automatically tightened.

  “I don’t get this place.” I tucked my elbows under myself and leaned forward on the picket fence. “Everything seems… weird. Why is everyone smiling?”

  Mary stepped up beside me. “Because they are happy. We choose to live peacefully and independently from the outside world. Everything we do is manufactured ourselves like our clothes, our food and our power supply. Everyone has a purpose here.”

  “What about the D400?” I asked.

  Mary pursed her lips. “We’ve been sworn off that poison for a long time. We take a more natural approach. It’s a special tea we brewed from our home-grown crops. We’ve been drinking it for nearly fifty years.”

  “And what about that burn mark?” I asked. “Peaceful enough to cause that?”

  Mary gingerly stroked her wound and quickly snapped her hand back at the memory. “My friends and family did not do this to me. This was done by raiders. That’s why we’ve put up such large fences.” She motioned around to the thick, brick wall that cocooned the town. “We have men who patrol the fence. They shoot and kill anyone who tries to breach our walls. We don’t often tolerate strangers.”

  I touched my skin where a bandage covered the graze. “Explains the warm welcoming.”

  Mary smirked. “You were lucky. They don’t usually miss.” She pushed off the fence and I followed suit. “Just so you know while you are staying with us, you are also required to work.”

  “Work?”

  “Of course, you eat our food, drink our water, sleep in our beds, you have to pull your weight around here.”

  I slowed and crossed my arms. “You do know I’m not staying here for long, yeah? Just until my friend is fine, then I’m outta here.”

  Mary kindly smile, not one of those forced smiles I saw on most people. “We understand that. But while you’re here, you’ll be treated as one of us.”

  I gave a small shrug. “Okay, whatever.”

  “Hey, Tristan?” she called up as we neared three boys chopping up wood. The one she called Tristan stepped back, wiping his wrist across his brow. “You remember our guest, Nadia. She’ll be hanging around for a while so I was thinking she could help out with the livestock.”

  Tristan hacked the axe into the chopping block and pulled his hands from his gloves. The sun hit his tanned face as he squinted his blue eyes up at me. At his approach, he extended his hand.

  “I remember you. I was the guy who picked you up off the ground. You look much better now.”

  “Thanks for helping me.” I shook his hand.

  Mary clapped him on the back as she turned to leave. “I’ll leave her in your care then.” Tristan looked over me briefly before signalling us into a walk. I followed him along the footpath down toward the barns at the back corner fields. As we walked, I kept turning and checking over my shoulders. It was loud out here, but in a different type of way. Back in the city, the streets banged with constant gunshots and the mad howls from the drifters. That wasn’t to mention the air raids, the sweeps and the almost monthly terrorist attacks. I couldn’t help but jerk around at every shout and jolt of a swinging door.

  “Nervous?” Tristan laughed.

  “Not nervous, but very suspicious,” I corrected and shoved my hands into my denim pockets. The jeans were ripped on the kneecaps and Mary’s old grey singlet had been pulled to the point the stitching’s were unravelling. “You people are strange.”

  “We’re strange?” he chuckled. There was an accent that slurred his words, but from where I couldn’t pick. “How so?”

  “I dunno. You’re not like everyone else. It’s just weird.” I motioned to the others chatting at the back of their pick-up truck. “Where are the guns? The paranoia? The Sweepers?”

  “We have a motto that we live by here, ‘what’s in the past, stays in the past.’ I’ve been out there in that polluted world. If this is strange, then I’m happy being strange.”

  I laughed, “This is bloody coo-coo town.”

  He took me to the barn and opened the twin doors. Inside, as one would expect, the bar was over stuffed with hay and stables for horses to sleep in. I wandered in and tilted my head up. Above the stalls, there was a ladder leading to a smaller room on the second level, no doubt storing more hay.

  “How’s your leg?” he asked.

  I tapped it softly. “It’s fine.”

  “Good. I’ll keep your chores
simple. In here is where we keep all the hay. We need to shift the bundles out into field for feeding. And over here…” he continued as his words muffled into white noise. I stepped around slowly, inspecting the area. Along the walls and railings were tools I assumed for farming and horse riding. I eyed the pitchfork cautiously, automatically imagining a scenario where I would either need to use it defencelessly or try to disarm it from someone else. The ends looked long, sharp and rusted. It would cause a nasty infection, especially if - I felt a hand suddenly grab my shoulder and I spun, immediately pulling his wrist into my body and driving him hard to his knees. I moved without thinking. Back in the city, a hand on the shoulder meant a knife in the back and my paranoia had spiked. Tristan buckled as his knees slammed into the ground and he arched his back, trying to lean out of the painful lock.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” he panicked. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t grab me.” I shoved him off just as Tristan fluidly kicked his leg out and struck me in between the bend in my knees, forcing me to fall backward into a stack of hay. I landed with a soft thump as my heart caught in my throat, not expecting the move.

  “Noted. No grabbing.” He then offered me his hand but I knocked it away and stood up. Despite his efforts, I could not afford to trust him, or trust anymore. I knew I had to keep my distance to remain safe. Although it appeared justified, I can’t say Vance and Frankie’s betrayal’s still didn’t sting. I had opened up to them and it tore a wound in me that no quick stitching could fix. It was better to have my guard up, permanently. Especially around farm boys with catchy bright smiles and friendly personalities.

  His cheerful exterior only doubled the brick walls I built around myself. “So, Nadia, your job is to get the hay at the top of that storey up there, and then take it out to the feeding grounds with the rest. We’ll need about twenty stacks for now.” Tristan walked over and took out a spare pair of gloves from the workbench. “This should keep you busy. Any questions, just call.” He handed them to me and waved over his shoulder as he walked off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY:

  The next few hours, I dragged my feet around the barn. I climbed the ladder, kicked the haystacks off and then stored about two per wheelbarrow that I took out to the fields. I had sweated through my grey singlet and rolled my jeans up to my calves. The sun cooked my skin, turning it warm red. After hours of walking back and forth, I sat on the fence picking at my blisters when Tristan approached me again. He handed me a bottle of water and a sandwich.

  “How are you holding up, newbie?”

  I guzzled the water as though my life depended on it. Funny, days ago, my life really did. “I’m fine. Have you heard anything about my friend?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “I want to see him.” I took a hearty bite out of the sandwich. It was buttered with lamb and gravy between fluffy white bread. My mouth flooded at the glorious taste that I almost drooled down my top. “Oh, my God, this is good!”

  Tristan smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You made this?”

  “Yep. It’s nothing fancy but it beats plain porridge.” He leaned against the fence and looked out across the field. “What were you doing out there in the forest anyway?”

  “You know the usual. Running from cannibals, getting shot at, rolling in the mud.”

  “Seriously, though?” He chuckled and turned to face me. The sun on his blond whiskers had darkened with the dirt from the fields, painting his face half-brown. I swallowed loudly.

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Your choice. After sun down, I’ll take you in to visit your friend. He’s still sleeping off the infection but is recovering slowly. But I have another job for you. Have you dealt with horses before?”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like someone who grew up on a pony farm?”

  “A simple no would suffice.”

  I swallowed the harshness in my tone. “Then no.”

  Tristan took me back to the stables where they kept three of their horses. I had seen horses plenty of times before, but they were usually armoured in police gear and had guards riding on top, swinging down patrons or throwing gas cans into mobs.

  “I just need you to clean out their hooves and brush their coats.” He knelt by the horse’s legs and lifted its hoof up. From there, he demonstrated cleaning out the iron horseshoes with a blunted metal rod. I walked in closer to observe. After cleaning out three out of the four, Tristan stepped away and I took his place, carefully lifting up the horse’s leg so the hoof faced me. He watched from behind as I scraped along the metal rim, digging the mud and crap out. The horse’s tail whished and whipped me on the side of my cheek. It felt surreal. I had never been this close to a horse before. Its coat was sleek and shiny, the hair coarser than I expected. Its round belly bumped into me as it staggered and bobbed its head, trying to nip at the hay by its feet.

  “Good, you’re a natural,” Tristan grinned. He shuffled around behind my back, watching me kneel over the horseshoe. “So, you and this guy? How do you know each other?”

  “It’s a long story.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you also have chores?”

  “I’m on break.” He snorted and took an apple from his pocket. He bit into it and the crunch of the ripe green skin had my mouth watering.

  “Wow… fresh fruit. I almost forgot they even existed. Can I have one?”

  Tristan grinned. “Answer my questions and you’ll get an apple.” He pulled out another three apples from his jacket.

  I rolled my eyes and bit my smile. “Forget it.”

  “Very well, have it your way. Bella, you like apples, don’t you, girl?” He addressed the horse as it bobbed its head and neighed. Tristan gave it the apple and the horse ate it in two bites. He caught me staring, his smile arrogantly spreading across his sun burnt face. “Interested now?”

  I scoffed and turned my back. Tristan stepped around closer to the horses head. “Okay, Bella, your turn again. Do you think Nadia is being a stubborn ass?”

  “Hey!” I snapped as Bella neighed and nodded again, which Tristan rewarded her with an apple.

  “Last apple.” He tossed and caught it in one hand. “Nadia, I’ll ask you an easy one this time…” He held my stare for a few moments, purposely licking the bottom of his lip so my eyes had to trail his tongue. “Why can’t you take your eyes off me?”

  I slowly stood and cocked my head to the side, unable to hide the disbelieving smirk that crossed my lips. Tristan seemed pretty confident in himself. Challenging me to deny him he raised his brows and winked. I stepped up close enough to feel his exhaling breath and knocked the apple to the ground for Bella to eat. “Believe me, you’re not my type.”

  “What? You have something against blond handsome guys? You know previously I was a brunette.”

  The barn doors were thrown open causing a bang through the stables. The horse stumbled into me as I quickly jumped back, scared I was about to get stepped on.

  Mary’s voice called from the entrance, “Tristan? Tristan?”

  Tristan ran out to greet her as I followed after him. “Mary? What’s wrong?”

  Mary pointed at me, panting hard. “You have to come quick. It’s the new guy.”

  She led us back to the main streets and into a brown, stiff building housing at least twenty rooms. I reached the hallway where the shrill of Diesel’s outcry hit me hard. Out running them, I shoved past Mary and followed his distressed shouting toward the back of the corridor. I slid to a stop and wrenched back the door. Inside, it was a chaotic picture. Two men were wrestling with Diesel, trying to pin him to the bed. A woman was at the surgical table, fumbling with a syringe.

  “You can’t keep me here. They’ll find me. You have to let me go.” Diesel’s face was blood red and his veins pressed to his neck with his roar. Forcing through them I ran to his side. Diesel managed to wrench his arm free from one of the men and delivered his elbow downwards into his face, breaking the man’s nose. As he sta
ggered back, I grabbed onto Diesel’s swinging arm and clutched it to my chest.

  “Diesel? Diesel, it’s okay!”

  Diesel’s pupils narrowed in his panic. He pulled upward as he tried to stand and shoved me back. Easily, he managed to pull his arm free, spinning around and shoving the other man off. As he fell into the wall, Diesel swung himself around, catapulting himself off the mattress where he jumped and landed on top of me. My back slammed against the tile floor and I grabbed onto his collar, pushing him away. His hands went to my throat where he started to squeeze. As he barred his teeth like a threatened dog, his face suddenly softened. Diesel’s body stopped. His pupils that were no larger than pinpricks slowly dilated, making him look human again.

  “Katie?” He looked at me, and for the first time in a very long time, I could see a hint of vulnerability behind his gaze.

  The woman struck him in the arm with the syringe and Diesel’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. I scrambled onto my feet as they hoisted Diesel back onto his bed and into handcuffs that bound him to the bed frame. I grabbed my chest and exhaled loudly.

  “When was the last time he had any repressions?” Mary asked by the doorway.

  I rubbed my throat able to feel the tightness of my muscles between each swallow. I then turned and walked out of the hospital room. I barged past Tristan who stood in the hallway talking to his father, Barney. He tried to call out and stop me but I rushed past him, not slowing until I hit the open streets and ran far into town.

  Quickly lost, I took refuge behind an old windmill and buried my head into my arms. I didn’t move until night fell and the town hushed into slumber. I gripped my hair and paced, turning Diesel’s words over in my head. I had never seen him like that before. I was already worried about his mentality but it looked worse now than when we were stumbling through the woods. What if he doesn’t get better? What if this is a permanent thing and I’ve lost him to-