Page 28 of Stalker
“That’s for Tessa!” the cyborg hissed, pulling the knife out and stepping back. “I only wish I had time to make you suffer more, fucking pervert.”
Colton started to walk away, but the rage erupting inside him made him turn back and kick Devlin’s lifeless form in the nuts.
It seemed like Price knew about the camera in the room. He looked directly into it as he left the room, his expression one of stark anguish.
“Who was Tessa?” Neely asked.
“His mate. She was abducted while Price was away. No one knows what happened to her. They found her flat in Starport city empty. No one has heard from her since over a year ago.”
“But that recording clears your team from the murder.”
“Yes.”
“Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him. Are they going after him for this?”
“They didn’t say, but they will take him into custody if he’s found and probably send him to psych rehab. He’s served honorably until now.”
“What do you think happened to his wife?” Neely asked.
“Someone took her, and it might have been White, or he obtained her from whoever took her. Price apparently believed White killed her, or he would have interrogated him before killing him. That’s what I would do.”
“Well, I hope you never have to.”
Stalker set down the tablet and pulled her onto his lap. “So do I,” he said and claimed her lips in a deep passionate kiss, ending the conversation. Minutes later, he carried her into their bedroom and made love to her long and slow.
Twenty-four hours after Stalker returned, he and Neely went back to scouting the ruins of Los Angeles. They handed out com-tablets to the leaders who seemed ready to accept help from the Enclave to improve their living conditions.
Since Neely was an experienced flyer, Stalker agreed when she asked for her own sky cycle. She was a quick study because of her previous skill. Most of the time, Stalker and Neely shared his cycle, and other times they each rode their own, mainly to carry more tablets to hand out.
Within the once-great city, there were completely razed areas where buildings were pulverized to a pile of rubble. It almost seemed the Mesaarkans had bombed it more heavily than other world population centers.
In other areas, there were buildings with minimal damage. Millions had died in the bombings, and more died in the aftermath. Life as they knew it was over. There was no more running water to their homes, no electricity, no internet, and no mass communication. Retail outlets that weren’t reduced to rubble were looted in the first months until nothing was left.
Most of the megalopolis dwellers had no idea how to survive without the amenities of modern life. People who did survive gravitated to others who knew how to get food and water in primitive conditions after the bombing.
Vradin Blackwood’s ancestors had become leaders in the aftermath, gaining power by helping others learn how to survive in the new primitive conditions. Perhaps, in the beginning, it was a benevolent relationship with the people who gravitated to their leadership.
By the time Vradin Blackwood ascended to leadership, he’d become an overlord dictator ruling over a dozen communities surrounding the original one founded by his ancestors.
While they still had vehicles that worked, they went out into the countryside and gathered livestock and corralled them in green spaces in the city. They salvaged old books from abandoned houses still intact enough to go inside. Books on survival, hunting, homesteading, and raising livestock were among the most valued.
With the mass destruction of the cities went the financial system. While there was still physical currency, it wasn’t very useful when they could no longer simply buy the things they needed.
Vradin Blackwood’s predecessors had a knack for stockpiling those things. Those who had nothing to barter would provide services, labor, or sexual favors.
After another long day scouting the city ruins and meeting with people who lived there, Stalker pinged their food processor to prepare dinner for them. Two steamy trays of meat and vegetables awaited them when they arrived, along with covered mugs of hot tea.
“Did you have any idea what you were getting into here?” Neely asked as they carried their food to the small table in the kitchen.
“Hypothetically, but the reality is more than I processed. Out of forty million living here before the war, I have estimated only about a million left.” He sat his tray and mug on the table, and Neely did the same.
“They’re spread out all over the place,” Neely said, collecting tableware from the counter dispenser to her right. She passed Stalker a knife, fork, and spoon and sat down.
“The planners at the Enclave have mapped out how they will spread the communities through the region,” Stalker said. “We just have to figure out who might get in the way of those plans.”
“Like Vradin Blackwood.” Neely took some meat and vegetables on her fork, lifting them to her mouth.
“And others like him.” Stalker sipped his tea.
