Right Down the Line
Charlie staggered out of the building covered in blood, her body buffeted by the screaming crowd, carrying her across the square.
She never made it to the rendezvous point, never saw the look Miles and Bass shared when they realized they were going to have to leave her behind.
She disappeared into the bright Texas sun like a shimmer on the horizon.
Eighteen months later
Connor and Bass were on their way to New Vegas. They had orders to meet with a Rebel spy who was feeding the Brass in Texas information about the Patriot troops in the area. Something big was up and Blanchard wanted to find out if it was legit or a set up.
Bass was quite most of the way, his thoughts on the last time he was here and the lost girl his family had mourned. Miles had been a fucking wreck by the time they had made it back to their camp, Bass almost as bad and it had fallen on him to tell Gene and Rachel what they knew.
He would have killed Rachel that day if he didn't know the grief a parent could have for a child, Miles finally stepping in to take the brunt of her anger and grief. They had been hollow shells of themselves since that day, Connor and Gene doing their best to keep the three up and going.
Bass and Miles had both lost themselves in their former identities for a while until one day, they looked at the slaughter around them and something changed. They gathered an arm full of liquor bottles and barricaded themselves in a house for two days straight. When they emerged bruised, bloody and beaten, smelling like a back-alley bar, they were smiling and joking like old times.
Now here he was, swimming in the memories of those first trips with her. Fuck Blanchard for insisting that he be the one to come on this trip.
Since the deaths of Duncan, Gould and the Patriot infiltration, the transient city had become permanent, putting down stakes on the shores of Lake Mead. Two weeks there and two weeks back if they were lucky.
Finding a place to stable the horses is simple enough. They figure it's a fifty-fifty chance the Patriots have heard about his resurrection, so he's decided to own the place as Jimmy King. Splitting up with Connor for the time being, they'll hook back up before meeting their contact.
Entering one of the many tented bars, Bass grabs some dinner and a bottle, settling at a table as some as his former acquaintances catch wind of his arrival and seek him out. Although no one comes out and says anything directly, the patriots are definitely in control of the town. For their good behavior, the citizens are mostly left alone and have a steady influx of supplies.
That was the million dollar question though. No one seemed to know where these supplies were coming from. He was hoping their contact would be able to tell them something to make this trip worthwhile.
He's facing the door, talking to one of the girls he knew from back in the day, when Connor appears.
With a tilt of his head, he steps back outside.
Bass excuses himself, leaving enough money behind for their drinks, before exiting the tent only to be manhandled by his son. "What the hell, Connor?" He hisses as his son steers him along by his upper arm.
"Oh, you're gonna wanna see this Old Man, I guarantee it." Connor says with a smirk as they approach a large tent on the outskirts of the settlement. The place was hopping. It was busier than a good night in the fight tents when he was the main headline.
Connor whispers something in the attendant's ear and she waves them through with a tittering laugh that rakes across Bass' nerves.
As they enter the tent and make their way through the crowd, Bass gives a bark of laughter. "You're kidding me!"
"Nope, but that's not the best part," Connor replies with a smile tugging him around the wooden floor.
They mill through the crowd making their way to the other side of the ring, finding seats about half-way up the crudely put together stands.
Bass had seen a lot of things post blackout but this took the cake. Sitting in front of him, in the middle of this circus sized tent, was a godsdamn roller derby rink. He shakes his head in amazement turning to Connor, "A fucking Roller Derby."
His son grins, "I stumbled across it earlier when I was following a few ladies in this direction. Turns out they belonged to one of the teams.
"What kind of corny names are they going by?"
"Well, there's the incredibly original, 'Patriots,' who'll be wearing various parts of the Grand ol' Flag, and my personal favorites, 'The Warriors'. Those ladies look like they could eat Tom Neville up and spit his bones out."
Bass chuckles at the wild-eyed, man-eating wonder in his kids' eye. "Well as amusing as this all is, please tell me we're not here to watch a match."
Connor shrugs. "Wait till the teams are introduced and then you tell me."
Sighing, Bass sits back, crossing his arms over his chest waiting for the match to start. He keeps his eyes open for anything unusual as girls start arriving on the floor using benches next to it to lace up their skates before taking a few test laps. Bass decides that he's watching "The Warriors," as they're dressed in "Mad Max" type of garb, and he can see the appeal to his son.
"The Warriors" step aside, gathering in a huddle as the announcer for the night walks to the middle of the ring, introducing the crowd's favorite girls, "The Good Time Charlie's, featuring who else, but Charlie!" Bass watches as girls dressed in various outfits of red, white and blue come through a nearby curtained off section and hit the floor rolling. He rises to his feet as he sees the woman who comes out a half-pace behind the others, sending the crowd into a frenzy as she takes to the floor backwards, yelling and shouting to the crowd, waving and blowing kisses.
"You might want to sit down before you pass out," Connor half-shouts in his ear causing Bass to turn towards him with a deadly look.
"A little warning would have been nice." He shouts back.
His son shrugs, "Would you have believed me?"
Bass knows he's right. Knows he would have insisted on seeing for himself and that his reaction would be the same. His eyes rake over her from the bottom up. Skates lead to torn fishnets, covered by knee pads, which lead to a lot more fishnet that is covered by red and white stripped hot pants that come as high up her waist as they do on her backside. There's a narrow strip of skin between those and the half- tank featuring white stars on a blue background which fits snuggly against her breasts and ribcage. Elbow and wrist guards complete the outfit if you don't take into account her hair which was in two high pig-tails held up with red, white and blue pom-pom ribbons. Her lips match the red she wears.
Bass sits down with the crowd as the bout gets underway, still stunned that she's alive and breathing. He may kill her for what she's put them through, mourning her loss, convinced that she was dead because there was no way in hell if she was alive that she wouldn't have found her way home.
Bass goes from shocked to furious in zero to sixty.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Connor tries to caution as he picks up the changes in his father. "We have no idea what happened back in Austin. Give her a chance to explain."
A collective "Ohhh!" from the audience commands their attention. Whatever's happened has Charlie on the ground a bit more bruised than before she got there. Bass twitches as she appears injured, only to watch her trip up the girl who put her there in the first place. Getting her legs wrapped the other woman, Charlie wails on her with a fist. The crowd is in a near frenzy as two men come out to break up the fight, putting each of them in time out on different benches.
As her team gathers round her, Charlie searches the crowd. Someone's been watching her since she hit the floor, causing the skin between her shoulder blades to itch. It might just be because of the meeting later tonight, but it's put her in a pissy mood.
Bass watches her searching the crowd, ducking behind the man in front of him as her teammates gathered round her, hiding her beautiful, bloody face from his view.
Getting Connor's attention, they leave before she catches them. Bass runs his hands over his face as they walk. "I need to know where she staying."
"Already done."
"Show me."
Connor leads him to a trailer park full of ratty, run down, trailer homes of every kind and style. Hers is towards the back, looking no different from tens of others.
They find a place to watch.
He bites his nails doing everything he can to stay put.
Finally, finally, she appears.
They watch as she enters her trailer, emerging a few minutes later with a different pack than the one she entered with and they follow. They've already decided that Connor would go on to the meeting with their contact if this thing with Charlie takes too long.
Fifteen minutes later, he and Connor are exchanging uneasy looks as she heads straight towards the arranged meeting point. Bass honestly thinks he's going to have an aneurysm. If she is their contact he is going to fucking strangle someone, he just hadn't decided who yet.
Stepping up to the outside bar, Charlie orders a drink. Paying for it, she walks to the back of the patio, half-cast in shadows from the burning torches used for illumination.
Bass sends Connor around the front to meet her, while he circles around the back.
"Charlie," Connor says flipping around a chair to sit in front of her.
Charlie closes her eyes briefly, exhaling sharply, before finishing off her drink. "So you're my contact."
Connor remains silent, only giving her a tilt of his head.
"Fucking Blanchard!" She spits out under her breath. "I told him I could get us out of here without anyone's help. Was it you at the match tonight? You were making my skin itch."
Connor flashes her a grin. "Yeah, I was there. Can't wait to hear that story." Reaching out, he grabs her hand. "I'm glad to see you, Charlie. I don't know what happened to make you leave, but it messed everybody up. My Dad and Miles scared the shit out of me. I learned firsthand how they earned their names."
He watched the pain flare up in her eyes before they darted over to her covered wrist as her lips flattened out. "I'm sorry to hear that. That's the last thing I ever wanted. I was just in a really bad place after what happened."
"What did happen? You and Jason just never showed up and we had no choice but to leave. It almost killed them."
She sucked in a shaky breath, swallowing loudly. "Jason. He was activated at some point after we split up. I had to shoot him.
Bass' eyes flutter close as he listens to her explanation about what happened that day. He knows exactly how she must have felt and as angry as he is at her, his heart goes out to her.
"I'm so sorry, Charlie," Bass hears Connor say softly.
She nods her thanks, brushing her cheeks with her hands. "Well, I hope you're here for more than just a history lesson. Let's go back to my place so we can talk."
Connor stands with her, blocking her path as Bass makes his presence known.
She glares at Connor. "Traitor."
"Have the two of you ever heard the phrase 'Don't shoot the messenger?'" he asks
Charlie huffs. "We have a lot of information to go over and not a lot of time to do it in. So can we please go?" she asks looking at Bass.
He nods, keeping pace with her, Connor right behind as they made their way back to her place. Stopping, she hands Bass the key. "You already know where it's at. I need to talk to my neighbor for a minute. I'll meet you there."
Taking the key he keeps walking.
He and Connor enter the trailer, Connor plopping down in a chair with a sigh. "Do the two of you think you could dial down the intensity just a bit?"
Bass ignores him, choosing to sit in a chair at the table, his legs spread as he tries to get his emotions under control.
She arrives a few minutes later, rifling around a cabinet, pulling out a half-full bottle of whiskey and some glasses.
She looks at Bass as she sets a glass down in front of him, filling it. "You look like you could use a drink."
His eyes narrow at the statement. "I thought you were fucking DEAD, Charlotte. We ALL did. So excuse me if I'm not taking this very well."
She ignores his outburst, pouring herself and Connor a shot, before shoving the bottle at Monroe. "Hold this," She orders him as she downs her shot, pushing the glass aside, as she opens her pack pulling out a couple of worn maps spreading them over the table, taking the bottle back to anchor a corner.
"So, what's your big tip that Blanchard is in a tizzy over?" Connor asks getting the ball rolling on this meeting.
"His panties are in a continuous wad," she says angrily turning back to the map taking a breath. "We stumbled across a supply depot last month and while we were there, discovered that they have a working train."
Bass and Connor shared a look. "We already know that. Miles and Gene stole one."
"Go, Grandpa," she smiles before turning serious again. "Does that train stretch all the way to California? Can it bring in thousands of troops to invade Texas at the drop of a hat?"
"They've got clean track?" Bass asks standing to look at the maps.
She reaches out to run her finger over a line on the map. "From the west side of Dening all the way to the border. It'll only be a matter of weeks now before they can travel into the heart of California. The main supply depot is at Yuma which is where the train will be until they're ready to test the west bound lines with check points at Maricopa, Tucson, Benson and Lordsburg to the east."
"Why is that important to know?" Connor asks still studying the map as Bass and Charlie lock eyes.
"Because she's planning on stealing it." Bass replies calmly all the pieces falling into place.
"It takes four days to get to Yuma on horseback. It'll take me at least six with a wagon train. Blanchard has already got people working on his end of the tracks making sure we can get it into the country and is building up manpower on the border to give us as much protection as he can. We'll have this small area here, from the west side of Dening to the border, which we'll have to creep through in case there's a problem with the track."
Bass rakes his hands through his hair as he paces the small kitchen. "What kind of resources do you have on this end?"
"Here in Vegas? My girls. We leave in the morning headed to Yuma for a scheduled Derby. My men left two days ago. They'll access the location and make sure nothing's changed since our last visit."
Bass paces a few more times. "How long?"
"Blanchard expects us in Texas in eight days, which means we're pushing it. If you hadn't shown up tonight, I would have left without you."
"It's risky," Connor says thinking about all she's said.
"It's more than risky, Connor," She says, "There'll be children in the group. I have entire families that I'm responsible for getting on that train and into Texas in one piece."
"Shit," Bass breathes taking in this new element. "Did you feel like you needed another challenge?"
"You're more than welcome to ride out of here on the stick you rode in on," Charlie replies snidely. "I don't need any help and I told Blanchard that but he insisted he had the right man for the job."
She takes a breath, rubbing at her head in frustration. "Look, do you have a place to stay tonight?"
"I do," Connor says with a wink and a smile. "Not sure about old, cranky and uptight, here though."
Charlie snorts at his description of his father. "Be here before sunrise, the wagons are already loaded and ready to go out back, we just have to hitch the horses and get everyone loaded up."
"Yes, Ma'am." Connor salutes as he leaves her home, closing the door firmly behind him.
Charlie shakes her head at his antics as she begins to fold up her maps. Connor was five years older than her but some days it felt the other way around. "You're welcome to the couch," she says putting the maps back into her pack, throwing other miscellaneous things into it from around the kitchen.
She leaves the room, returning with a clean blanket and pillow, pointing towards the piece of furniture. "It doesn't look like much, but it's a good sleeper."
Bass grunts in reply, watching her turn the main lamp down and disappear around the corner before returning with couple of cloth bags, sitting them by the front door.
"Goodnight, Bass," she calls out softly walking towards what he can only assume is her bedroom.
Charlie's heart is racing as she stands in the dark undressing before blowing out the lamp and crawling into bed, her mind going a thousand miles a minute, her face still throbbing from where she had gotten into the fist fight tonight. She's laying there, staring at the ceiling, twisting the sheet into knots when she hears his padded footsteps coming down the hall. She keeps still as he walks over to her side of the bed, sinking his knee into the mattress next to her hip. He hovers over her, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her face.
"I thought you were dead," he whispers, a hitch in his breath as both his hands engulf her face.
"I'm so sorry I put you through that, Bass. It was incredibly selfish of me." Reaching up to grasp his hands, she kisses his palms before pulling him closer. "I missed you so much."
He makes a choking sound in the back of his throat as his lips crash into hers. Charlie hangs onto him as he slides into the bed next to her, his hands stroking every inch of skin he can reach. Her grip tightens on him as he nuzzles her neck on the path to her breasts.
His lips wrapping around her skin as his tongue tortures her nipple, has her groaning in pleasure. Moving his attention to the other peak, he shoves his hand roughly between her legs, his knuckles grazing her wetness, telling him all he needs to know as he slides two fingers inside of her.
Charlie gasps, bucking her hips as he roughly fucks her with his fingers, his mouth and teeth teasing and nipping her skin. Reaching for his unfastened pants, she pushes them down releasing his thick cock. Bass groans as she takes him in hand, her thumb running over the tip before tracing the vein down its length.
"God, I missed this," he pants against her neck teasing her jaw with his mouth, "Missed you."
Drawing his lips to hers, she rolls them over straddling his hips. She sighs in pleasure when she sinks down on him, taking a moment just to feel. Opening her eyes, she sees him looking at her with so much love shining in his eyes it hurts. Reaching down to cup his cheek she begins to move, relishing the feel of having him inside her once again. Their fling had been brief, ending with her disappearance that one spring day so long ago.
Once she settles into a rhythm, he releases his hold on her hips, reaching up to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, the curve of her ass as it rests on his thighs, her thighs clenched tightly against his hips. He can feel them begin to tremble, and reaching out with his thumb, buries it against her nub. When she begins to move her hips in a different rotation, he presses harder, watching as she cums, her head thrown back as she keens in pleasure.
Pulling her towards him, he wraps his arms around her back and taking her shoulders in a firm grip begins to thrust, getting more traction by putting his feet on the bed. Charlie groans, sucking his earlobe into her mouth as she drags her nails along his oblique's. It doesn't take long before he's emptying himself against her skin. Rolling them to their sides, he buries his nose in the curve of her shoulder. Once his breathing has slowed, he gathers her up in his arms covering them with the blanket that's barely holding on to the edge of the bed.
"I'm still so fucking mad at you, Charlotte. Eighteen goddamn months," he sighs heavily.
"You can go back to being mad at me tomorrow," she whispers sleepily. "Just love me tonight."
"Always," he whispers back as they drift off to sleep.