Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) Read online

  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.

  “More explosives,” she guessed out loud.

  “Yup,” Em confirmed. “If someone gets in, we’re going to kill a bunch of ‘em before they get to us. That’s the point.”

  At the top of the stairs a second set of double doors stood open, and they passed through into another hallway. This one was brightly lit with oil lamps and lanterns, giving the institutional space a surprisingly warm glow. There were voices here, and, impossibly, Oakley thought she could hear music, too.

  “We’ll find you somewhere comfortable,” Em assured her. “Believe it or not, we’ve got a lot of room.”

  Oakley was quiet as they passed through a door that must have been a c
lassroom. Inside, bed sheets hung from the ceiling denoted make-shift rooms, allowing the bunks beyond a slight measure of privacy. Em ducked around one such barrier, then lowered Oakley onto a low cot comfortably mussed with blankets and pillows. It made Oakley frown, then she looked up at her chauffeur as the woman moved about, kicking a pair of boots out of the way and moving a jar to a shelf made out of wooden crates.

  “This is your bed,” she realized, feeling like an intruder again. “I can’t stay here.”

  “Sure you can. I can sleep somewhere else for a few days. I actually find a soft bed unsettling after a few nights. Sometimes I just need to sleep on the floor. Got used to it after the bombs.”

  Oakley reached out and put her hand on Em’s hand, stilling her in her fussing. “I’m sorry. About what happened to you. With those…Madmen.”

  Em’s eyes got hard but she nodded, unaffected. “That’s history.”

  “It wasn’t that long ago, was it?”

  Em swallowed hard. “Not really, but long enough that I sleep at night now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Anne, you got nothing to be sorry for.”

  That was a tone that indicated the conversation was over.

  Oakley nodded, but said out loud, “I think I prefer Oakley, actually.”

  Em’s face broke into a grin. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, It’s kinda cool.”

  “Then Oakley it is. Now stay here, rest up. You likely wiped yourself out with that hero act today. I’ll go find you some dinner.”

  With a flip of a hanging white sheet Oakley was alone, so she let her eyes adjust to the dim and studied her new accommodations. The cot was of the camping variety; a folding frame with a piece of canvas strung across. With the blankets and pillows it was comfortable, actually cozy. She used both hands to pull her legs up onto the bed, relieved that she was aware of her hands on her own body as she did so. Her legs weren’t numb; they were just rusty from lack of use. She’d get them back. She was growing more and more confident of that since the incident at that house.