Free Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders by Britten Thorne Page B

coming.

 

    The three traveled with each other the remained of the way to the compound. Two full days of hard riding - Lia finally became more accustomed to it and was less sore when they stopped for food and gas. She clung to the memory of Call’s kisses to get her through the endless hours. It was dangerous thinking, she knew - as Father Speer would lecture them, kisses led to other things - she had firsthand experience of that, too. It was a dangerous path she was treading, with each mile marker more sinful than the last.
    But part of her had stopped caring what Father Speer said. Part of her just wanted to kiss Call again. And more. The weak part of me thinks that, she told herself. She’d needed to confess, she realized - if she was ever going to get everything straight in her head, to make things right, she’d have to tell Father Speer everything, assuming he’d made it to the compound. But do I really?
    Her conflicted thoughts didn’t stop her from letting Call steal kisses from her when they had a spare moment, when he wasn’t caught up in worry and serious business. “Another for the road,” he’d tell her, touching her arms and her face. Maybe Father Speer is wrong about this, maybe he just doesn’t know it. I could make him see.
    After the second day they drove straight through the night. “We’re close enough now that it’s safe to travel,” Call said, “These roads are patrolled for the dead.”
    “And what about Satan’s Remains?”
    “Too dangerous for them. They don’t venture this close to our walls.”
    So they sped through the night like bats. Sitting behind Call, she couldn’t see the headlights in front of them. She couldn’t see anything at all. They could have been driving up and away into the night sky for all she knew - speeding between stars - as exhaustion crept in, it felt like it. It felt like they were nowhere at all.
    “We’re here.” Call had stopped the bike while she was daydreaming. She climbed off the bike and held his arm until her feet felt steady. The wall and the gate stood ahead of them, lit by torches and lined by a few scattered lookouts. It barely resembled a fence anymore - heavy debris was stacked high all along the perimeter. The gate itself was covered in what looked like corrugated metal doors, like those she’d seen on close storefronts. It looked heavy but it swung open with ease. She held Call’s elbow as he walked his bike through.
    The biker that greeted them wore a patch that said “Vice President.” “Thank God you’re alive, man,” he said, slapping Call on the shoulder. He snapped at someone off in the distance, and two younger guys came running. “Put their bikes away,” he told them, “Make sure they get cleaned in the morning.”
    “Yessir,” they said, taking Call’s and Ripp’s motorcycles and wheeling them towards what looked like another parking garage. The space itself was just as Call had described - an office complex with five buildings that she could see, surrounding a small square park with trees and benches. She could imagine people walking around, attending to business, going to dentist appointments, taking lunch breaks in the square.
    “Ripp, good to see you, too. This another girl from the farm?”
    “I’m Lia,” she said, extending her hand before Call could answer for her. Despite her exhaustion, she knew this was no place to seem weak. She trusted Call but this was still unknown territory.
    “Glad you made it,” he said, shaking her hand, “Call me Sheedy.”
    “How many of the girls from the farm are here?” she asked.
    “Goddamn, I ain’t secretary of the place. Four? And some minister. We’ve got them all set up together for now.”
    “Thank God,” she said with a heavy sigh. Still, that might mean two are missing or dead. And Mikey, the poor kid. She wanted to go to them, to see them alive in person. It was late and they were probably asleep, and she was very nearly ready to pass out on her