Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) (4 page)

What a fucking stupid idea. But it was all she had.

She started beating on the horn in the center of the wheel, and the loud honking startled her, but she didn’t worry about it. She didn’t want to hit the girls if they were anywhere in her trajectory.

The van passed between the women tied up in the yard with plenty of room to spare, and she aimed to the side of the door where there was a boarded up picture window. She kept up with the horn and yanked the seatbelt into place at the last minute, then she was busting through stucco and plywood with a loud crash.

The building had given way surprisingly easy. She hit the brake as the wall fell away, revealing the inside of the house.

It was dark, but she was able to make out struggling bodies. A large man had May down on a table, bending her backwards onto the top, with his hand on her neck. Coral was hanging on his back, arms wrapped around his throat. As Anne watched, he flipped Coral over and she hit the ground hard, then his attentions were back on May alone.

She had no idea where Brit was, but the man was standing up and drawing May’s back to his chest, like a shield. May, for her part, didn’t look scared. She just stared through the dusty windshield, almost like she was wondering what the hell Anne was planning on doing next.

The pistol in her hand was still comfortable. Anne snatched it up, positioning it without a thought, and pushed the side door open. She set both feet on the ground, stood somewhat safely behind the door and aimed the pistol at the brute’s head.

He laughed, bringing his own handgun up to May’s temple.

“Go ahead, bitch,” he snarled, and she could see spittle flying as he spoke. “You’d all make a great addition to my stable. Just need to be broken first.”

Anne frowned, not dwelling on the words of this asshole. “Put it down and I might not kill you,” she returned.

May arched one eyebrow, just barely smiling. To the side Coral was standing up and the man backed up, keeping her
and
Anne in his sights.

“You think you got the drop on me, you cunt?”

“Take the shot Anne,” May was saying. “You can do it.”

Was she nuts? Sure the gun was familiar, and Anne thought it was possible she’d fired one before. But this kind of marksmanship? It had to be a bluff.

“I’m feeling merciful,” she muttered, no idea where this dialogue was even coming from. “We should give this ass a chance to save himself.”

“I’m gonna have fun with you, Blondie.” May winced as the man obviously rubbed himself against her backside. “I’m gonna fuck every hole you’ve got and then shove this pistol up inside and kill you that way.”

Anne shook her head, the gun still very steady in her hands. “With that little dick? You can’t reach me from four feet away. And besides, you’ll be dead before that sad little thing even wakes up.”

“You bitch—” he was roaring, face a nasty purple hue as he tossed May to the side and came her way. With a couple of controlled squeezes of the trigger she shot twice, the first round hitting his forehead. On the second she dropped the sight slightly and plowed a second hole into his chest.

Nice, neat. Incredibly quiet after the loudness of the gunfire, and her ears were ringing.

How’d you just do that?
she asked herself, bringing the gun up into her line of sight like she was surprised it was actually there.

“What the fuck?” Coral was breathing out as May climbed to her feet, looking a bit shocked herself. It was subtle, but her shock was there.

“How did you do that?” May asked, almost a whisper.

“And how the fuck are you standing up?”

With a gasp Anne looked down. Sure enough, those were her sock feet on the filthy ground, holding her up. As though it were a magic trick, her knees buckled and she caught herself with one hand, gripping the van door.

“I got her,” May was shouting, circling around to wrap an arm around Anne’s waist. She hefted her up a bit then walked them back to the second set of doors. Anne looked up to see Coral heading into a room at the back of the building. “That adrenalin is a trip, isn’t it?”

Anne gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. I just scared the shit out of myself.”

“Literally? Because I’ll leave you here.”

She laughed harder as May helped wrangle her back into her seat. “No, figuratively.” She looked down at the pistol, safely pointed downward throughout the entire moving scenario. “I don’t know how I did that,” she admitted, meeting May’s gaze. “I don’t remember ever picking up a gun.”

May tilted her head to study Anne. “I don’t know,” she mused. “You might have had some kind of marksmanship training. It might just be reflex for you. You were calm and cool, Anne.
Anne
. Fuck that. I’m calling you Oakley.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Annie Oakley. Famous female sharpshooter.”

“Oh.”

There was loud cussing from inside the ruined building, and they both looked up as Brit came stalking out of the back room where Coral had disappeared. Em was between them, wiping at her bloodied lip.

But Brit looked ready to kill, which was wasted effort since the man on the ground was already dead when she began kicking him in the face.

“Fucking! Cunt! Sonova! Bitch! You like
that
? I fuck
you
up! Asshole!” Each point was punctuated with a boot to the man’s head. It was hard to watch and Anne had to look away even though she was the one who had just made him dead.

May was watching
her
though. It was an evaluating look, and Anne’s skin shrunk up a bit under that scrutiny. “He sells those two women in the front yard. They’re put out there to advertise that he had services available to trade. It’s how they all get food, although he obviously keeps them too weak and doped up to run away. He kidnaps women like us and makes them fuck people so he can stay that fucking fat.”

Anne inhaled, her eyes stinging a bit. The whole explanation was bit out with such venom it felt as though it was directed at Anne.

“So if Brit feels like caving his head in, she gets to. You can too, when you’re strong enough. Any prick we kill feel, free to take out all your anger because they’ll do that and worse to you if given the chance.”

Anne swallowed and nodded. She’d need to work on her poker face around these women.

“Shoulda seen her!” Coral was saying loudly from behind Em as they approached the van. “Anne dropped him like a fucking army sniper. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Em’s face was thoughtful, and now Anne could see her lip was cut and bleeding. “Are you okay?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Asshole got handsy with May,” Em muttered. “I punched him. He punched back.”

“Then he threw her and Brit in the back room and locked them in. A little more nimble than he looked, that’s for sure.” Coral put her arm around Em’s shoulders. “I hate that you got hurt, gorgeous.”

“I’m fine,” Em said, wiping at the blood on her mouth again. “He just knew the right way to hit.”

Coral went on her toes to kiss Em’s cheek then turned her grin on Anne. “And
you
honey are going to be a fucking fun puzzle to figure out.” She leaned over and laid a kiss on Anne’s lips. “Thank you.”

She was startled. She pulled back, then stuttered out a lame, “I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Coral said immediately, backing away and her smile fading. “Don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Anne.”

She as so earnest Anne felt embarrassed for her reaction. “No, I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

“We’re affectionate with each other,” May informed her. “But the same rule goes. Never without your consent.”

Anne nodded, then tried to give Coral a reassuring smile. “I take no offense, and I mean none.”

Coral smiled. “So we made up. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re taking those girls, right?” Em asked May.

“Of course. I’ll go get them, ask them if they want to come.”

Anne couldn’t imagine anyone saying no to that, but she stayed in place, only moving to reach over the seat and put the pistol back in its place.

“We should see if that was luck or not,” Em said, motioning for Anne to scoot over and give her room to climb in. The other side was somewhat blocked by building pieces she’d knocked out of the way in her breakout scheme.

“Yeah,” Anne agreed, sighing at the fact that her legs were still useless. So strange that she’d just climbed out of the van without any troubles.

“That’s a handy skill to have,” Em went on. “I’m pretty curious about where you came from, Anne.”

She snorted. “May wants to call me Oakley now.”

Em’s grin grew wider. “That works better, actually. It means something at least.”

“I just want my legs back first.” She hated sounding so whiny, especially with everything these women had been through while she’d been safely planted underground. But feeling useless and helpless was sitting on her like an uncomfortable coat.

“You’ll get them back,” Em assured her, pulling the van door shut.

Brit climbed into the back of the van, moving around supplies to create a space in the middle of their haul. She put the blankets in the center, and that’s when Anne got a good look at the women from the front yard.

Bruised, starved, and scared of anything that moved. It didn’t even matter that they were all women. The older woman’s eyes moved from one of them to the other like a caged animal. She looked like the younger woman, and Anne was wondering if they weren’t related. God forbid, they might be mother and daughter.

“It’s okay,” May was saying gently, slowly placing her hand on the older woman’s elbow. “We’re going somewhere safe, I promise. And no one’s going to touch you.”

There was a tense stand-off before the older woman finally nodded and the younger girl climbed up. And she
was
a girl. This close up Anne guessed her age to be around seventeen. Her stomach rolled at what May told her about the whole situation at this terrible place.

“There’s food in these boxes,” Brit was explaining with surprising gentleness. “If you’re hungry you might be able to find some crackers or something. So help yourself. And there’s water, too.”

The two women were closed in the back and Anne turned to face forward, not feeling well. She couldn’t face what had happened to these two. She didn’t want to see the proof of it. It was too terrible.

May climbed into the driver’s seat, Brit called shotgun and Coral climbed over Em and Anne to sit on the opposite side. Coral patted her leg, and Anne figured the woman knew what she was thinking.

No, she had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She’d been in a vault while these women were trying to survive. There was no doubt in her mind, judging their posture and quiet now, that the lives of the women in the back were more
ho-hum
reality to them. No sadder, no happier than what they’d also lived through.

Anne watched the back of May’s head as she backed out of the yard and pulled a turn to get them back on the path they’d been travelling. She was calm, in control. No doubt she was in charge of this team, and Anne wondered if she was also in charge of wherever it was they were headed now.

Brit in the passenger seat was starting out the window, chewing a thumb nail. She was affected by this, which was surprising. Then again, if she`d been through shit like the other two it would explain her initial disdain for Anne.

Coral slouched down in her place, arms crossed and head on the back of the bench seat. She put her goggles over her eyes, but it seemed as though she was intending to get some sleep. On Anne’s other side Em suddenly shifted, pulling the gas mask out from behind her.

“You should put this back on,” she suggested, holding it up and helping Anne fasten the straps on the back. “Try and get some rest if you want. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Chapter Three

The journey was underscored by sniffing and whimpers from the very back of the van, but everyone seemed to think it’d be best to let the two women deal with whatever was racing through them with what little privacy a van had to offer.

Anne, or Oakley as everyone seemed to prefer, passed the time gazing out the side windows, waiting for a sign of what she thought the world was like. There was a hazy idea that there should be houses, buildings, vehicles everywhere they travelled. Here and there where the land dipped down the remnants of buildings were still standing, worse for wear but upright. Not a single abode had windows, and in most places the front doors had been ripped off as well. She had to assume no one could possibly be taking shelter there anymore.

The van’s speed slowed noticeably, and Oakley turned her attentions out the other side as Em and Brit did the same. To the left side of the vehicle a home was a ruined mass of blackened timber, smoke billowing from the wreckage as the dying breath of what must have been a high-temperature fire. The front stoop was still upright, but the iron railings to each side were curled outward as the heat had obviously weakened them. The tension in the van was almost like another passenger, and Oakley had to ask.

“Were there people in there?”

Without a word Coral tapped the glass next to her, and Oakley saw it them. Charred remains that also resembled branches until you saw the rounded mass at one end. It took a while to convince herself it was a human skull.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, stomach rolling over.

“I knew there was someone living there,” Em muttered, sounding furious.

“This was the Madmen, wasn’t it?” Brit snarled.

May turned her attention forwards again. “No one else burns everything down when they’re done with it.”

“Assholes.”

Oakley was staring at the human remains, thinking obscurely that it looked so fake. So ordinary, especially since it used to be a person. There should be something more substantial left after death.

“Who are the Madmen?” she asked, wrenching her eyes away from the horror and turning to Em.

“Not very nice guys,” she said softly, looking back out her own window.

“The Madmen had Em as a captive for a while.” Brit said, suddenly louder than everyone else in the van. “I mean, most of us were, if you want to know the truth. But she survived longer than anyone else. If you really want to know what’s following us, maybe ask nice and she’ll show you the scars.”

“That’s enough Brit,” May snapped, bringing the van up to its regular cruising velocity again.

“I actually think she might have been Jasper’s favorite,” Brit was still musing, then she looked over the back of the passenger seat. “And you know the fucked up part about that? That even as you’re basically a slave vessel with penetrable holes and nothing else to them, it actually breeds fucking
jealousy
when one of these pricks favors one girl over another.”

“Brit.” May’s tone was downright cold.

“How many broads did we cut to keep them from tearing you apart, Em?” Brit’s eyes were wide and innocent as they landed on Em. “I remember opening at least one’s throat for you.”

Oakley inhaled, waiting for Em to show Brit was just goading her on. She was still staring out the window.

Oakley knew Brit was staring at her, so she braced herself before meeting her gaze. She honestly didn’t understand this woman. She seemed to hate everyone here. Why did she stay with them? Why did they put up with her? And why the hell did she take such care with the women in the back of the van?

“The Madmen are a horde of assholes,” Brit said, teasing tone gone now. “They’re barely human. They kept all of us like animals, in a dirt cellar. They fed us moldy bread and water to keep us alive but too weak to try to get away. The only time we were allowed out of that cellar was to be entertainment for those pigs. They had metal collars around our necks and they’d chain us up, then they’d all take their turns doing whatever they wanted to us.”

Oakley shuddered under Brit’s harsh attention. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that every word was true.

“They’d laugh. They’d tell each other what to
try
.” She tilted her head. “Did you know a woman can die from someone filleting her cunt with a hunting knife?”

May’s hand moved so fast it was a blur. Brit’s head was suddenly facing the other way, and the van was silent. “That’s enough. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m sorry,” Oakley said quietly to break the pause that followed. “I’m sorry this happened. And especially about your…friend.”

“Her name was Jasmine,” Brit said, also sounding quite chastised.

“I know I
missed
all this.” Oakley tried to pick her words carefully. “I’m fairly certain I wasn’t abused like you all were. But I am still appreciative that you’ve taken me in. I promise to help out as much as I can. I’ll earn my way through work since I haven’t earned it through pain. But I am very, very sorry for what you’ve gone through.”

“We don’t need you to be sorry,” May assured her, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. “We just need you to understand how bad it really is out there now. The slightest misstep or carelessly done task can leave us all open for violence. We must always be vigilant.”

Oakley nodded. “Of course.”

That was all that was said until the van pulled up to a stretch of chain link fence. “Home sweet home,” May declared, maneuvering the van through the opening and stopping. The doors popped open and Coral and Em hopped out to shut a gate behind them.

Oakley couldn’t see where they were headed. All she could see were slopes and plains of beige, no shadows because of the lack of sunshine.

“Where is it?” she asked, leaning forward, closer to the front seat.

May smiled at her over one shoulder as Coral and Em climbed back in. “You’ll see it eventually. Trust me.”

“Madmen, six o’clock,” Coral mumbled, turning to look out the back windows. They all turned as well, and that’s when Oakley remembered their silent companions in the back. But more than that, out the back there were a line of black forms, appearing to be on dirt bikes. They were like no other bikes she’d ever seen though, but she couldn’t put her finger on what made them specifically
odd
.

Fear made her pulse spike, and she found herself seeking out May to see what the plan of action was. The woman was still behind the wheel, arm slung over the back, squinting out the back window. She looked…not very concerned, was the best way to put it. More curious.

“Are they coming after us now?” Oakley asked, wanting someone to explain what was going on.

“No,” May answered simply. “They haven’t attacked the commune yet. They’re not entirely sure what’s over here, and they don’t know where the traps are.”

“Do
you
know where the traps are?”

May smirked. “I put them out there, so yes. I know.”

“What if they just follow the tracks?”

May shook her head. “Don’t know. But they’ll spend a few hours out there just to freak us out. Then tomorrow they’ll be gone.”

“If not sooner,” Coral added. “Let’s go.”

The only one who hadn’t turned around to look was Em. Next to Oakley she was staring straight ahead, her face an unreadable stone mask. It was chilling.

The van lurched forward again, making its lumbering way over a sandy slope. Quite suddenly the ground pitched downward, and she found herself yelping in surprise, grasping hold of Em’s arm. Em gave a laugh, and Oakley let go with a nervous chuckle of her own. “Sorry,” she mumbled, cheeks coloring.

“It’s okay. We should have warned about the drop.”

Drop
was putting it lightly. It felt as though they’d free-fallen to a second level of desert, a very sharp slope that crested into a gentle ramp. As the van rounded the curve the front of a building came into view, and it was as though they’d been right on top of it until the drop.

Oakley leaned forward again, frowning. “Is that…it looks like a school.”

May laughed. “It is. This school was built into the face of a hill. Structurally sound after the bombs, and better yet, it has a well.”

“It does?”

“It’s sitting on top of an aquifer,” Coral explained. “That is, an underground layer of water-bearing permeable rock or unconsolidated material
.
”

Oakley knew her mouth dropped open in surprise, which was rude, but Coral just laughed. “I have a good memory. Don’t worry, I’m not smart or anything.”

“She actually is,” Brit chuckled. “Scary-smart.”

Coral just winked then pulled her goggles from her forehead to her eyes.

Oakley took that as a sign to tighten up her gas mask. The thing was clammy inside and she hated the smell, but she didn’t dare ignore their warning. It had been bad enough she’d been exposed during the short stand-off at that monster’s house.

The van parked close to the door and Em was out before the engine stopped. She reached in and with no effort at all plucked Oakley off the seat. Oakley was left to wrap her arms around Em’s neck, feeling like a child.

Coral was right behind them with the wheelchair. The old double doors had once been steel and glass, but they were now boarded up. Inside the entry, both walls were covered with shoe racks where children had once had to leave their “outdoor” shoes. Now they were filled with various tools, shovels and other incredibly sharp objects. It was very dark as well, the only light coming from a sconce on the wall. The next one was a dozen or so yards down, and it smelled like they were perhaps burning animal fat. Basically, it smelled like dinner.

Oakley was gently set in the wheelchair and she waited in place while all those able to help carried the boxes and crates of supplies from the van and down the hallway.  While they were busy at work with that Oakley studied the two women they’d found tied up in a yard.

She was now convinced they were related, and she had to guess mother and daughter. God, what a terrible thought. Had the woman hoped she was protecting her daughter? Finding someone to look after them both, only to find themselves snared in a nightmare? As it was they seemed hollow, staring at the floor in front of their toes, still only dressed in those over-sized, filthy T-shirts. The younger woman was standing close enough to the older that their arms were touching, but there was no intentional contact between them.

If ever there was a definition of
broken,
this was it.  It was a horrible thought, but Oakley wondered what the chances were of them being any
better
than they were right now. This was not a happy place, or so she was being told. The world was not populated by counselors that could talk about feelings until the shadows weren’t scary anymore.

Her hands tightened on the armrests of her chair. How long before these other women had felt such despair? Oakley was already wondering what the point was of trying to go on. It seemed pretty damn futile.

“Now stick close,” Brit’s voice broke her out of her reverie, but it was directed at the two mute women. “There are booby traps on this level. So don’t go anywhere we don’t. Okay?” There was no response but Brit nodded anyway, turning and striding past Oakley. Someone grabbed the back of her chair and when she looked up she found Em at the controls, so to speak.

“You can take the mask off now,” Em instructed, and with great relief she pulled the contraption off and took a deep breath.

“That’s so much better,” she mumbled wiping the condensation from her face.

“This is the only area we have traps set on. Upstairs it’s wide open. Memorize this path now, and then I can show you how to set the door boomers.” Em was narrating their walk.

“Door boomers?”

“The doors are booby-trapped with C4,” she said simply. “It’s a hell of an alarm system, too.”

Oakley watched the closed doors that they rolled past. They looked innocent enough but she wondered if they weren’t all wired to explode. Each heavy wood unit had a long narrow window along one side, but it was completely dark beyond. It was curious that a school had been built into a hill like this. There must have been no windows other than the front doors.

Which made for a pretty good fortress, didn’t it?

The air here was cool and dank, obviously from being shut up for so long. But the floors were clean, no refuse strewn about. There was no peeling paint or drooping ceiling tiles. It was like being at school during a power outage. A school with back-up candles. Said candles were being blown out behind them by Coral and May.

“There are stairs up ahead,” Em told her. “I’ll carry you up, though. You’re far too thin right now; it’s almost too easy.”

The stairs appeared after a left turn, down a corridor lined with lockers. The candles here were placed on each step at the very edges where they met the cinderblock walls. Again, feeling feeble and humiliated, Oakley looped her arms around Em’s long neck, careful not to pull at her long ponytail, and let the woman carry her up the stairs. As they reached a landing and turned to start up the other half-flight, she caught sight of May at the doors of the stairwell, pulling them closed and futzing with a dark, flat box of some kind affixed to the door under the push-handles.