Dirge Danorum

Chapter 23

It was another sunny day in the Zone. We picked up another man on the road, this one an Englishman that a lot of people seemed to have heard of. They called him Exile. There were enough now that one man didn't seem like much, but it would be a while yet before Freedom could turn down help.

Things took a grim turn when after a brief stop to rest, we discovered one of the men missing. A search of the area quickly turned up his body, dragged behind a tumbledown shack.

Drained.

I'd seen the signs, and suspected that we were being trailed by a drinker unable to pass up this much fresh juice, but I hadn't been worried because I didn't think he'd have the audacity to strike us in force.

True, in a group this large, no one's guard was as high as it should have been – but Velvet was making sure no one lost focus completely. The change in her was subtle, but it was there. Just because her fear was gone didn't mean she was running around touching people, or even markedly more cheerful – but there was a confidence, and a wholesomeness coming from her that had not been there before, living in the place previously occupied by that psychotic edge that she'd been trying so hard to beat down.

People were more careful after we found that body, and Velvet started sending her scouts out in pairs, though there was no guarantee that would help. If a drinker had the guts to stay in the vicinity of this many stalkers, he'd have no problem jumping two men. It didn't help that the circumstances around the man that had been drained were strange to say the least. He had been a skilled hunter; he had plenty of drinker kills under his belt. How could one take him off guard, of all people?

I had a feeling something funny was going on, but at this stage of the race, Velvet was more concerned with the Dane than with mutants. The girls were always kept in the middle of the pack, and they, along with several of the shorter stalkers around them, were masked and cloaked like bandits. A sniper would have difficulty getting a clean shot on either of them, and even before they could do that, they would have to ID their targets.

Nobody would dare start a fight with a group this big, so if the Dane had a sniper on the job, that sniper had only one chance, because as soon as he fired, he'd have thirty stalkers after him.

But there were still plenty of ways to get at us, so we couldn't stop moving. Which brought problems of its own.

"My feet hurt," Tyrian complained. No surprise; they'd been sequestered at the brothel in Kevorich for days. There was only one kind of exercise there, and the two sisters weren't a part of it. It was funny to see them with gas masks on, and to listen to them talking about girly things with their voices muffled by the filters.

"Enjoy it out here while you can," I advised. They'd be stuck at Yantar when we got there, and forbidden to leave the compound. Soon after that they'd be taken away and hidden somewhere safe, where they'd also be stuck for a while. It wouldn't be long before they were both longing for a nice walk like this. But that was in the future.

The future wasn't a problem for Velvet, though. She was already talking to freelancers, putting hits out on the people after the two sisters. It would take time, and there were no guarantees, but Velvet was doing her best to protect them.

"Can't we go around these?" Tyrian asked, walking around the carcass of a particularly ugly boar.

"You are."

"Be glad we just have to deal with the dead ones," Russet said.

"When do we eat some real food?"

"Define real." I shouldered my rifle and checked my chrono. We were making better time today; I think Velvet's efficiency had risen with her confidence. She was also turning into a bit of a slave driver, but that was exactly what she needed to be. Grigor was for show; no one expected him to actually run things. It wouldn't do if people looked to him for all the answers. They needed to get used to Velvet, the sooner the better.

"Actual food," Tyrian said. Actual isn't a good way to define real, but I knew what she meant. Hot food that was cooked, and recognizable as having come from something that had once been alive, either plant or animal. Let's face it; none of us know what's in the calorie bars we're always eating. They're probably made of chalk or something.

"Not until we get there. It won't be long now."

"Man," she said, and I smiled. "I just want a sandwich."

"That does sound good."

"Yeah," Russet said. Stalkers want glory and logic-defying artifacts; we just wanted a sandwich, and we were the ones who couldn't get it. How was that fair?

"I want ham and swiss on mine. And lettuce and tomato," Tyrian said.

"I want turkey and hot sauce and bacon," Russet sighed.

"Peppered turkey pastrami, hard salami, pepper jack cheese."

"Ooh, that's good, Mist."

"Can't we just call him David?"

"Not here."

"That's dumb. Can we rest, I'm dying here. This is worse than yoga."

"I like yoga better," Russet said wistfully.

"You think we'll ever see her again?"

"Who?"

"Amy."

"Oh. I don't know. Maybe someday."

"You think she'd believe us if we told her we'd been here?"

"She might. She likes comic books."

"Yeah."

"What's that got to do with it?" I asked.

"Comic book people are more open to weird stuff," Russet said, as though it were obvious.

"It's true," Tyrian agreed.

"I don't disagree with that. But everybody's a comic book person now; the Christian Bale pirate Batman movies and the big Marvel movies are making everybody hype for that stuff," I said.

"Please tell me we're going to be out of here in time to see The Avengers."

"I doubt it," Russet said bluntly.

"You could be back in the world by May," I said. "It's not impossible."

"We'll still be in hiding."

"Only for a while."

"Where are all the cool monsters?" Tyrian complained. "All we see are these dogs and pigs."

"Want to see some fish people?" I asked.

"What?"

"Fish people."

I could hear Tyrian snickering in her mask. "There aren't any fish people," Russet said, laughing.

I sighed. "You do know one of our guys got killed by a mutant this morning, right?"

That sobered both of them; they knew, of course. And they were as disturbed as everyone else, because we still didn't fully understand what had happened. They were just glad to be in the middle of the pack, though the likelihood of anyone being attacked in broad daylight while the group was moving was slim.

Of course the odds of a seasoned hunter being taken by a drinker in daylight were slim too. But I'd decided not to worry about that; everything has an explanation, and getting stressed out usually doesn't help you find it.

"Can we rest now?" Tyrian gasped.

"Not until Velvet says so," Russet told her.

"Why doesn't she have to wear all this?"

"Because she doesn't have assassins after her," I said. At least, I hoped she didn't.

"She's so pretty," Tyrian said. "What's she doing here?"

"Running."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Shouldn't you be walking out front?" Tyrian snapped. "Put that wide aspect ratio to work." Russet swatted her. "Ouch."

"This is the least politically correct place on earth, after all."

Russet laughed. "That's no reason to forget about manners."

"Are they going to fight at this new place?" Tyrian asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the fights. I like watching the fights."

"Oh." I thought about it. "They might do some bare knuckle stuff, but I doubt Velvet would let anything hardcore like the Kevorich fights happen on her watch."

"You could win every time," Russet said.

"Just because you can knock a guy down doesn't mean you should," I replied. "With great power comes…" this time she swatted me.

"That guy was really good," Tyrian said, flicking her eyes toward the Biker, who was walking toward the front of the group, not far from Velvet.

"I'll bet he was."

"They don't let that one fight at all." She nodded toward the Merc, also not far from Velvet.

"I don't blame them."

"That English guy is hot." I could see Tyrian's mask turn toward Exile. You get used to her sudden subject changes. "He might be the hottest guy of all time."

"Ask him on a date," Russet said, sounding exasperated even through the mask. A bullet hit her squarely in the chest; I saw it punch through the bandit coat. Simultaneously, another struck down Tyrian. They were both thrown down like rag dolls. Shocked, I watched them fall. It was only a second or two before we heard the echoes of the shots, and then every stalker turned and opened fire to the south, but the snipers were much too far away.

The Biker was kneeling by the fallen sisters, tearing off their masks, but when he saw them, he didn't even bother to check their pulses.