Dead World 3 Page 2

  “I won’t.” Morgan pressed his lips to her palm.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “On my life.” He tenderly brushed the hair off her forehead. “I’ll die before I allow anyone to separate us again.”

  Red smiled. “Good, because I’ll kill you myself if you do.”

  Morgan laughed, a big belly of a sound, then pulled her close. “I wish we could stay here like this forever.”

  Red snuggled against him. “Me, too.”

  “But I doubt Demery will wait for us much longer and we don’t want to lose the cover of night,” he said.

  “Are you guys about done?” Demery called out from nearby as if on cue. “I’d like to walk for a few hours before we make camp.”

  He didn’t sound three dunes away. If the shifting sand was any indication, he was on the other side of the dune they were lying on. Morgan looked like he was trying not to smile.

  “You better have just walked back,” Red warned. “Or I’m going to kick your ass.”

  Demery was silent.

  Morgan chuckled and gathered his clothes. He slipped on his pants, then picked up her clothes and handed them to her.

  Red wrinkled her nose. “I’m never going to get the sand off me.”

  “Are you two coming or do I have to come over there and get you?” Demery asked, amusement in his voice.

  “He wouldn’t dare.” Her eyes widened as she looked at Morgan.

  He grinned. “I learned a long time ago it’s a bad idea to encourage a vampire.”

  2

  Red had thought the Republic of Arizona was barren, but two days of wandering in no-man’s-land had changed her mind. This place made the backside of the Mars look subtropical.

  She wiped at the sweat clinging to her face. There wasn’t as much as there had been yesterday. Didn’t take long for dehydration to set in.

  She glanced at Demery. His white protective suit glowed in the sunlight. He looked nice and cool despite the hideous temperature. For a moment, Red was jealous, but the emotion passed quickly.

  There was nothing to envy about Demery’s situation. His body didn’t change temperature—thanks to the genetic alterations he’d received during the last war—unless it was exposed to the sun. If that happened, he’d die.

  Morgan trudged along beside her. The heat didn’t appear to be affecting him either. At least not as much as it was getting to her. Of course, he was used to living in the town of Nuria, which had never had a protective biodome.

  Red had always considered herself prepared for anything, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the harsh, unforgiving desert landscape that lay before them. She’d never seen so much sand. She was beginning to hate it.

  “Should we seek shelter before the sun gets too high?” She hoped they’d take the hint without her having to admit that the heat was making her tired.

  Morgan scanned the horizon. “I don’t see anyplace we could hole up for the day,” he said. “Demery, do you know of any shelter nearby?”

  “Might find something over the next rise,” he said.

  “Where did you rest the last time you crossed?” Red licked her chapped lips and came away with a mouthful of sand.

  “I didn’t come this way. Too barren,” Demery said.

  Red stopped walking. If the place was too barren, then why in the hell were they going this way? Unease rippled through her, but she forced herself to shrug it off. Demery had always had her back in Nuria. He’d risked his life and freedom to help them escape. He’d given her no reason to stop trusting him now.

  “You do know where you’re going, right?” she asked. “If you’re lost, just admit it.”

  “I’m not lost.” Demery chuckled. “I know where I’m going...more or less. We went this way to throw off anyone who might be following. They wouldn’t think to look for us here. They’d assume we’d head west where supplies are more plentiful.” He pulled out a canteen and tossed it to Red. She caught it without thinking. “Take a drink. It’ll make you less grumpy. I’ve enhanced the water with minerals that will counteract some of the dehydration.”

  “I’m not grumpy!” Red muttered.

  Morgan and Demery laughed.

  She was uncomfortable. There was a difference. Red took a drink. When she finished, she secured the lid and handed it to Morgan, who took two big swallows before sealing it and giving it back.

  “We have to find someone we can trade with. We need more provisions,” Demery said. “Should make it a few more days, but after that…”

  They’d die, Red thought.

  Nothing turned out to be over the next dune or the one after it. Grit covered Red’s face and hands until it became part of her skin.

  They walked through the heat of the day and into early evening. The sun was dropping below the horizon when Red spotted firelight flickering in the distance.

  “Am I seeing things?” she asked. Hallucinating wasn’t out of the question.

  “No.” Morgan stepped forward. “I see it, too.” He sniffed the air. “Purebloods.”

  “Get down,” Demery said. They all three hit the ground without question. “We need to figure out if these are squatters, drifters, or Sand Devils.”

  “What are Sand Devils?” Horned creatures with forked tongues and red skin flashed in her mind.

  “Bands of outlaws who rove the dunes in search of unsuspecting squatters and drifters. They’re seriously bad news,” he said. “Though they can be reasoned with on occasion.”

  “Think we can sneak around them without them seeing us?” she asked.

  “Doubt it,” Demery said. “Even if we could, these are the first people we’ve encountered. We should try to trade with them if we can.”

  Red reached for her pistol.

  “Relax.” Demery touched her shooting hand. “Let’s find out who we’re dealing with before we kill them all. Okay?”

  She shrugged casually, but her gaze slid to Morgan. His entire body was tense.

  “If they’re squatters, they’ll have two lookouts. One stationed on each side of the group. They check in by signaling each other. The signal changes from group to group, but we should be able to catch something within the next few seconds,” Demery said.

  Red watched the inky horizon, waiting for a sign to tell them they wouldn’t have to fight their way past this group. She was tired and hungry, and doubted she’d have the energy to put up much resistance if the situation called for it.

  Tension increased as they waited. An orange fireball rose into the night sky, then exploded with a thunderous boom. A minute later another occurred in a different location. Demery exhaled loudly and grinned.

  “Looks like we’ve found our first band of squatters.” Demery climbed to his feet. “They should have sufficient supplies to trade. At the very least, we’ll be able to get enough supplies to make it to the next encampment.”

  Red and Morgan were slower to stand, since they weren’t in a hurry to become an easy target for a nervous lookout.

  The camp sat a couple hundred yards away. Circular tents and lean-tos were huddled like melted marshmallows in the center of a ring of fire.

  Morgan couldn’t tell what they were using for fuel, but the flames burned steady and were a good barrier moat between the inhabitants and any intruder that might wander by.

  “How do you want to do this?” Morgan asked.

  “We’ll take a direct approach,” Demery said. “If we’re out in the open, they’ll have plenty of time to see us coming.”

  Gina frowned. “What if they shoot us on sight?”

  Morgan squinted. “I’ll be able to smell the guns before we’re in range.” He didn’t add that his acute senses wouldn’t help if they had a sniper in their midst.

  They headed toward the vagabond group. Loose rags covered the people who were by the firelight, leaving very little skin visible. A few wore big cat and coyote hides.

  Morgan had seen similar clothing before. It had been worn in the Middle East by nomadic tribes. It was one of the few things that had survived from that area after the last war.

  “What are they wearing?” Gina asked.

  “Whatever they could scavenge or kill,” Morgan said.

  “Doesn’t seem practical,” she said, but her hazel eyes were wide in wonder.

  Despite the danger they were in, she was absorbing it all like a kid who’d just spotted her first flying shuttle. Something melted in the vicinity of Morgan’s heart.

  “Actually,” he said. “Those outfits are great for this harsh climate. It cools you during the day and keeps you warm at night. The key is layers. They can be removed or added as needed.”

  Demery watched the people. “Hey mon, I think I know this group,” he said.

  “Is that good or bad?” Morgan asked. The last thing they needed after their long trek was to run into hostiles—or worse, someone Demery had crossed in the past.

  “It’s all good,” Demery said. “The Sand Moles welcome traders. Wait here and I’ll make contact.”

  Morgan tensed. “Thought you said we should go in together?”

  “That was before I recognized who they were,” Demery said. “This particular band is a little skittish. If anything happens to me, head south.”

  They ducked back down to watch. Morgan didn’t like it. The idiot was going to get himself killed. Could he lead Gina across the desert on his own? Morgan didn’t like the answer that popped into his head.

  “What do we do if they kill him?” she asked, following the same train of thought.

  “It won’t come to that,” he said.

  “But what if it does?” Gina asked.

  Morgan slanted her a glance. She’d gone from amazement to fear in record time. Her golden skin paled despite the heavy amount of sun it had received the past couple of days.

  “We run,” he said. “And eventually head south like Demery said.”

  They watched the vamp slowly approach the encampment. He held his hands in the air so the lookouts could see he wasn’t armed. A horn sounded. It was followed by the blast from another. People rushed to their tents and came out carrying guns, bows, and pipes.

  Morgan took a quick look around. Other than the ridge of sand they were perched on there was no cover. If he and Gina had to make a run for it, they’d be easily picked off if the lookouts were a half-decent shot.

  “What are they holding?” Gina asked. “They look like weapons, but I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Those are rifles.”

  “Laser rifles?”

  Morgan shook his head. “No, those are antique rifles. They’re made out of wood.”

  “Do they fire metal?” She inched forward to get a better look.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Morgan caught her leg and pulled her back. “The bullets can travel quite a distance. Getting hit hurts like hell.”

  “You’ve been shot with one of those.” Her tone was incredulous.

  “Not that exact model, but yes. It’s an experience I’d like to forget.” He rubbed his shoulder where he’d taken a bullet. It still ached when it rained. Fortunately, on the dead world, that didn’t happen often.

  “How did they get them? The International Police Tactical Team confiscated all of the weapons after the war. Houses were checked, buildings were scoured,” she said, sounding bewildered.

  Morgan grinned. “They obviously missed a few.”

  “Are our laser pistols any match to those weapons?” Gina pulled her gun out of its holster.

  “Yes, but those have us on distance. We’d need a laser rifle to compete.”

  She slumped against the dune. “I should’ve brought a rifle.”

  Morgan kissed the tip of her nose. “We could only carry so many weapons. We had to leave room for food and water.”

  “I know.” She sounded dejected.

  Demery reached the group and stopped.

  One of the men in the group stepped forward and patted him down. “All clear,” the man said, then quickly rejoined the group.

  The murmur of voices rose.

  “I’m here to trade, but I also seek shelter,” he said. “My name is Demery Wilson. Does anyone here know that name?”

  There were more murmurs. This time louder as his name rumbled through the crowd on a tide of voices. Finally a single voice rose above the rest.

  “I do.” An older man with silver at his temples stepped forward. He wore similar clothes as the rest and had a scruffy beard that started at one ear and ended at the other in a smile of hair.

  “Gray?” Demery stepped forward.

  The guards notched the rifles against their shoulders.

  “It’s okay,” Gray said. The man smiled, showing a gap in his teeth. “Been a long time, dread man. Didn’t think I’d see you around these parts after your last encounter with Reaper.”

  Demery shrugged casually, but Morgan could see the tension in his large frame. His scent changed, too. It was subtle, but the sour tang of fear was still there.

  “You know me, mon. Nothing can keep me away from a good trade.” Demery grinned, showing the dimples in his dark cheeks. His body relaxed as he slipped on the jovial, happy-go-lucky mask he used freely around others.

  Morgan wondered—not for the first time—what the real Demery was like. It had taken him fifty years to understand Raphael and what motivated him. It had only been a week and change with Demery. A long way to go before the word “trust” would enter the picture.

  “This man is known to me. Show him Sand Mole hospitality.” Gray stepped forward and lowered his voice. “For your sake, I hope you brought Reaper what you promised.”

  Demery patted his shirt. “I have it right here.”

  Gray frowned in confusion, then threw his head back and laughed. “It’s nice to know your sense of humor survived intact.” He clapped Demery on the back.

  “What’s he talking about?” Gina asked.

  Morgan shook his head. “I don’t know. Now shh, let’s listen to see if we can find out,” he said.

  “Do you know where I can find Reaper?” Demery asked Gray. “He still has something of mine.”

  “We don’t run with the likes of him. You know that.” Gray’s brow furrowed at the mere suggestion of association. “We are a peaceful people unless we’re provoked or deceived.”

  Demery smiled. “I know, mon, but you always seem to know where the devil hides.”

  Gray grinned back. “That I do. That I do. Speaking of which, tell your friends they can come out now.”

  Morgan tensed and Gina slipped backward into the darkness.

  “Could never get anything past you, old man. It’s okay,” Demery called out. “They won’t harm you. Come on out.”

  “What do you think?” Gina thumbed her pistol.

  Morgan looked at the darkness squeezing in around them. “I think we don’t have a choice. We need provisions and shelter or we won’t get much farther.”

  She grasped his arm. “I don’t like it.”

  “I know, but down here Demery’s the expert,” Morgan said.

  Gina shook her head. “It’s not Demery I’m worried about.”

  She put her gun away. Morgan followed, positioning his body between her and the armed men.

  When they got close, Morgan said, “My name is—”

  “Hunter,” Demery provided, cutting him off. “And this is Red.” He pulled Gina close.

  The gesture was both friendly and possessive. Perhaps a warning. Morgan couldn’t tell, so he said nothing, even though his first instinct was to rip the vamp’s arm off and use it for a chew toy.

  We are outnumbered, he reminded himself. If Demery’s little act would protect Gina, then he’d go along with it...for now.

  “I’m Gray. And these are the Sand Moles. Welcome.”

  The group turned out to be quite hospitable. They offered Red and Morgan food, shelter, and water in exchange for a laser pistol.

  Red was hesitant to give up one of their weapons, but it wouldn’t do them any good if they died of thirst or hunger. Despite the circumstances, the people and their customs fascinated her.

  Women danced around a crackling fire in the center of the compound to music that was created using scraps of metal and wires. Red had never heard anything like the high-pitched pings and pops, but found herself tapping her foot and swaying to the music.

  One woman with a thick braid of blond hair approached. She tried to coax Red into joining the other women in the dance. Red begged off. She’d never danced a day in her life and wasn’t about to start now. But she was tempted. It looked like fun.

  The men watched avidly. All the men except Morgan. He kept staring at one of the digital diaries they’d found hidden in his cousin Kane’s home. He hadn’t listened to any of the recordings yet. The loss of his only family was still too fresh in his mind.

  “Why don’t you put that away and try to relax?” Red pointed at the digital recorder in his hand.

  Morgan looked at the device and pain momentarily hardened his austere features. In a flash, it was gone. He shoved the recorder in his pocket, then stared at the fire. He didn’t seem to notice the women, but Red couldn’t keep her eyes off them.

  Maybe when this was all over she’d learn how to dance. She continued to watch as activity went on around them. The Sand Moles seemed so poor, yet moved with such freedom that for a moment Red envied their lot in life. The thought brought her up short.

  These people were criminals. She’d have shot them if she had come across them on patrol with IPTT. Now she was relying on their generosity and goodwill. Shame warred with duty and weighed heavily on her conscience. She was so distracted by her thoughts that Red nearly missed Demery as he passed her on his way to a nearby tent.

  “Where are you going?” Red thought it prudent to know where everyone was just in case they had to leave in a hurry.

  His brown eyes sparkled mischievously and his dimples deepened. “To get a little refreshment.” Demery nodded at the woman who’d just poked her head out of the flap.

  She’d momentarily forgotten all about his need for blood. “Sorry,” Red said.

  He took another step.