The year is 2034 and humanity was shit out of luck.
That much was apparent as a young Stalker stood on the edge of the Dallas Exclusion Zone. The city loomed on the horizon as the setting sun cast the landscape in a haunting crimson hue. It was desolate and overgrown, but beautiful in a twisted way… But Liz wasn’t there to look at the scenery. In fact, she was trying to get as far away as possible while a led lined and rectangular case rubbed against her thigh as she ran.
The watch like P.D.A. on her right wrist buzzed and a rough voice crackled to life.
<< Come in Liz. You alive man? >>
With a small grimace the girl answered, “Yeah yeah I’m still kicking. Got the Midnight Rose too… You got anti-rad?”
There was a small pause.
<< I’ve got one dose… How much radiation is that thing kicking up? >>
Liz slowed to a brisk walk as she glanced to the Geiger counter on her hip. It sat firmly in the green, which was good. More than good. Six point three millisieverts. Just above the average.
“Six and a third. I’m on the edge of the zone though.”
<< Got it. How far out are you from the truck? >>
“ ‘Bout a mile. Mind pickin’ me up? I can light up the transponder on my PDA.”
<< Don’t. There’s a crew of hunters around here. I know ‘em but that don’t mean I wanna get friendly with’em. >>
Liz groaned. Of fucking course there were Miracle hunters prowling about. Damn dogs they were… Then again she was a dog just like them. But at the end of the day what was another mile when she had already walked fifty in the past week? … Frustrating, that was what it was. The road she was walking on was cracked with age, no one had even bothered to repave them. Leaving them a deep and dusty gray color- there were no lines left. Just gray and pebbles.
“Copy that. Talk to you in a bit…” Liz mumbled, pushing a strand of curling, ravenette hair from her face and back behind her hat.
<< Rog. >>
Her ‘Fixer’, Jamison crackled into nothingness, leaving Liz alone with her thoughts. None of which were pleasant. Her feet hurt, she stank, and she had to lose a good deal of equipment on the trek back thanks to a bad fall… It was all together a really shitty hike. It didn’t help that she had to go through the last couple of shells for her shotgun because she got jumped by Mutarats.
But the rest of her run back wasn’t bad, even if it was just a bit muggy out… At least the sun was setting which meant that it would be a cool ride back in Jamison’s truck… Assuming the damn thing didn’t break down like it normally did. He really needed to replace the shitbox, and the Midnight Rose should sell for enough to handle that and then some.
The girl arrived at the rendezvous point, a run-down gas station that served as a rest stop and vendor for Stalkers, some seven minutes later. A dull red glow emanated from a neon sign above the gas station’s boarded up exterior reading ‘Raz’s Trading Co’. But the sky was growing darker and darker with the passing minutes. Painting it in a beautiful inky shade of blue accented by streaks of vibrant pink and pastel yellow. Like a Van Gogh painting if Liz had to make an analogy.
And Jamison’s beat up gray pickup truck was parked right in the front with the man himself standing propped up beside it smoking a cigarette. And as Liz jogged closer she could make out more of the details of her partner in crime, both figuratively and incredibly literally. Jamison had helped her commit numerous felonies for the kick of it… But that wasn’t important.
He looked a lot worse for wear, which is saying a lot because the guy typically looked homeless. His long and curly brown hair was pushed into a messy ponytail while frizzing up. His glasses were cracked and sitting crooked on his face. But he was wearing the typical getup so maybe things weren’t so bad. He wore a plain brown bomber jacket, a white tshirt, a pair of baggy jeans with a heavy looking handgun set in a thigh holster, and brown combat boots. Simple, practical, comfortable. That was his motto.
Jamison was an odd guy. Ex-military but he’d never say where he served, which led Liz to believe that he was in on some shady business. And the man had contacts everywhere. From the middle of nowhere Siberia to bumfuck nowhere a mile outside of the Dalas Exclusion Zone. Liz also knew that he was positively deadly with an axe, a run through the New Orleans Exclusion Zone had showed her that and much more… He was a beast of a man with a cool disposition and a penchant to steal shit- and he was her best friend.
And as Liz neared the man gave a small wave.
“Hot damn cowboy. You look like shit!” He called out, giving her a sly grin behind his cigarette as a low and cool breeze kicked up dust all around the man. Partially shrouding him.
Liz rolled her eyes as she unclipped the Miracle holding case on her hip and chucked it over. Causing Jamison to step forwards and grab it with a deft swish of his free hand. He took a drag and sighed, letting smoke trail from his mouth and wreath his sun kissed face. The glimmering light let Liz see the damage to his face- dozens of small scars through his lips and eyebrows, across his nose and cheeks, and curling up to his scalp or down to his throat.
Liz grumbled a few curses to herself as she neared, “Fuckin’ rats man…” She hated rats with a passion
Jamison smiled as he opened the door and tossed the case inside with a his shit eating grin only growing, “What was that? … It’s good to see me? I’m looking quite dashing too? Why thank you kindly Liz.” He mocked with a sly look cut across his angular features.
Liz couldn’t help but snort a laugh as she propped up against the truck, “Yeah yeah. S’good to see you… You look like shit though, roll out the bed and stub your toe or some shit?”
Jamison lost his smile instantly and his voice dropped into a raspy whisper, “There’s some issues back home… Hugh’s back in town.”
Liz winced, “How bad is it.”
Jamison took another drag before shaking his head, “Not bad at all. He hasn’t done anything ‘sides sitting at the Splash of Paradise.”
“How’s the priest doing?”
“Leon’s fine. You were only gone for a week.”
“Yet we’ve got a damn Host in town! Like what the fuck man? Of all the people he just has to show up. God…” Liz let her shoulders sag as Jamison placed a reassuring hand onto her back.
“We’ve got Remi though, and he ain’t half bad.” Jamison tried to reassure her, but he seemed a little too uneasy for Liz to be comfortable with. She trusted his instincts better than her own for a damn good reason.
“I think there’s a difference between Remi and that monster… A big difference- a monumental one even! Remi is- he’s just-“ Liz growled.
“Hey now. Give the kid his roses, he’s the only one who stood up to Hugh the first time around… Hell- he’s the one who fought the bastard to a standstill when he was about to off Toby. I think we’ll be fine so long as you don’t try to pick a fight with the guy. He’s probably just here for some govt’ work. Stay out of his way and it’ll be peachy.”
Liz huffed, “I know… I trust Remi with my life and then some but-“ She faltered for a moment, but a squeeze from Jamison caused her to sigh and relent to being comforted, “Let’s just get the hell out of here. I wanna be back in time for those shitty cartoon reruns.”
A ghost of Jamison’s smile returned, “Yeah yeah.”
The two hopped into the beat up, old pickup truck and slammed the doors behind them. Jamison pulled out of Raz’s parking lot and burned rubber out of there, hooking a left on I-35E and speeding away to the town of Denton.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Denton was an interesting place by all accounts. It sat on the edge of the Dallas Exclusion Zone’s proper edge, but twenty miles from the edge of the radiation and ‘Miracle Field’ where Miracles formed. And due to this proximity to a major Zone it was a hotspot for Stalker activities- surplus stores for gear, dive bars for info brokerage, a bustling black market for artifacts, and an I.C.E.D. office to watch over the place in case of any gnarly horrors that prowled the defunct city of Dallas… But otherwise they kept out of things.
The trip that followed the duo’s departure took only forty five minutes in which Liz napped and Jamison listened to music. It was a nice, relaxing trip by all accounts. And Liz was more than happy to be shaken awake as they pulled into the rear parking lot of the First Baptist Church of Denton. The unofficial base of their little group.
“Home sweet home.” Liz mumbled as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“You crashing here for the night or do you want me to drive you to a motel or sumn’ after we eat.” Jamison offered, unbuckling his seatbelt.
Liz did the same, slipping out of the truck and onto the cooling gravel below which gave a satisfying crunch as she moved, “Where’s Remi, Toby, and Az?”
“All here,” Jamison declared as he too slipped out of the truck, locking it behind him.
“Then I’m staying here. Best to stay wit’ch’all until Hugh gets the hell out of town.” Liz declared, slipping off her hat, letting her hair fall all across her shoudlers.
Jamison chuckled as he opened the back door to the church, letting golden light and laughter spill out as he peaked his head in, “We’re home! Y’all got supper ready?” He called as he stepped in.
Liz followed him a half step behind him, closing the door behind her.
She was greeted by the sight by none other than ‘Auntie Az’ wrapping Jamison up in a hug. She was a tall woman of about six feet with strait brown hair cut into a bob and the most piercing green eyes a woman could have. The same as her nephew Jamison. But she might as well have been the duo’s mother, as she had taken care of them both after Liz’s own father and Jamison’s mother had died in an accident.
“You two are late.” She said sternly from over Jamison’s shoulder, but she wasn’t able to stop a massive grin from stretching across her round face.
“Sorry Auntie. Had a bad run in with some rats.” Liz said sheepishly.
Az scoffed and pushed her nephew off while drawing Liz into a firm hug, “I figured as much. Toby’s got supper all sorted out though.”
“Really?” The two said in unison.
“Yep yep. Fried pork chops, corn bread, collard greens, black eyed peas, and some tea. Leon went shopping earlier jus’cause y’all were gonna be home.”
Liz internally cheered upon hearing the menu for the night.
A moment later a mop of red hair peaked from around the corner followed by a pair of massive blue eyes. Which caused Liz to break free from the iron grip of her Auntie and rush to meet the youngest member of their group and the only one her age. One Remi Vladov. Their resident heavy hitter and creep deterrent.
She scooped the boy up in a sweaty hug as he squeaked in protest-
“Quit it! Quit! You smell like death dude!” Remi protested as he squirmed, trying to get free from the grasp of the much taller girl. But Liz didn’t let him go for a while, he was nice and squishy and smelled like gunpowder. While she was mean and hard and smelled like
“Missed ‘ya pipsqueak.” Liz mumbled into his hair.
“Missed you too… But for the love of God please let go of me. I’ve smelled mutant shit that’s less pungent than you.” Remi said with a chuckle, pushing Liz away with frigid hands- right as Auntie Az slapped him on the shoulder.
“House of the lord boy.” She warned.
“Sorry Az…” Remi said, rubbing his shoulder.
Liz sighed, “I’m starvin’! Where’s Toby at?”
“Kitchen~” Came a gravely birdsong of a voice. Deep and sonorous, comforting and warm.
Toby was Auntie’s husband of many years. A giant grizzly bear of a man with only a single eye and a permanent crooked grin. His platinum blonde hair was going gray at the roots and his beard was a little thinner on the sides. But the man was one of the first actual Stalkers, from Russia. He just went by Toby because his name was Toviy. But the man was a damn good cook, better than even Jamison.
Out came the last member of their merry band, Leon D’Tempete, the priest. A tall and wiry man who seemed permanently dressed in a jaunty purple suit and tie made out of Uruguayan cotton. He was as flaming as his suit and his warm hazel eyes seemed to know the secrets of everyone. He was also the smartest of the bunch when it came to managing a Stalker team, which made him the de facto leader of everyone. A man whose thirty three years of existence led him believe that God was still watching over everyone in the hellscape of a world that was called Earth.
He stepped into the church’s rear sitting room with a broad smile across his olivey face, his chestnut brown hair billowed in the breeze of the aircon, “Good evening… It’s good to see you Jamison my boy and Elizabeth- you smell.”
Liz cracked a wry grin, “Good to see you too, bossman.”
“Shower. The peas aren’t quite done yet, shoo shoo.” He responded, clapping the girl on the shoulder and lightly pulling her towards the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms, where the showers were.
Liz nodded and ambled up the stairs, hooking a right at the top and throwing open the door at the end of the hallway, her bedroom. Where she grabbed a fresh pair of clothes- just a baggy white tshirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and some underwear. After that it was shower time, blissful shower time… A blissful shower time that was curtailed by a light rapping on the door.
“Supper’s ready!” Came Toby’s gravely voice from behind the heavy oak bathroom door.
“Be out in a sec.” Liz shouted back, stepping out of the shower and doing all the necessary things to dress oneself and not look homeless. Which she wasn’t incredibly successful at doing. But eh, she was home. Nobody would mind if her hair was all sorts of out of control and she had a couple of fresh cuts scabbing up on her face.
Liz exited the bathroom, letting the steam from her shower waft out. Toby stood at the base of the stairs, apron looped around his neck, smiling broadly, “Come on kiddo.”
Liz nodded as she glided down the hallway, light as a ghost in the night as she descended the creaky wooden stairs. Meeting Toby at the base and slipping back into the common room where everyone sat.
Toby stepped back into the kitchen as Liz settled herself on an old, plushy couch next to Remi who was waiting patiently to begin eating. Waiting for Leon to say grace. But Toby arrived a half minute later with two plates of food and the priest in tow. He set a plate on Liz’s lap with a warm smile before taking his seat on a stiff, wooden chair.
She couldn’t help but eye the six glasses of sweet tea that sat on the mahogany coffee table in the dead center of the room. Liz hadn’t realized it but she was incredibly tired of drinking water that tasted like metal. So a nice, cold glass of Toby’s homebrewed tea sounded absolutely divine.
Leon stood in the center of the room, plate in one hand and bible in the other. But while Liz wasn’t particularly religious herself, she understood that Leon, Remi, Az, and Toby were people of faith. And she respected the hell out of all of them, so it was the least she could do for them… And- maybe- just maybe- she appreciated the feeling of something greater than herself. It was comforting in a way that she couldn’t put into words. But it was a nice, warm feeling.
He bowed his head and began to pray, “Dear Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today in prayer to thank you for your many blessings. Thank you, Lord, for delivering Jamison and Elizabeth home to us safely. For that we are forever grateful for that and the bounty of wonderful food you have provided us today, prepared by Toby. Thank you for guiding his hands today as he provides for us as you provide for us. And may you continue to lay your hand on us all, guiding us to salvation through you and your work. In your holy name, amen.”
“Amen…” Said the group in unison.
Liz didn’t hesitate to grab a glass from the coffee table and greedily gulp down the saccharinely sweet contents, “Sweet tea, how I have missed you.” She mumbled from behind the glass.
“So…” Leon began, “How was the run?”
It was an innocent enough question, but one that made Liz almost choke on he drink… She really didn’t want to discuss work at the dinner table. But it seemed that Leon was forcing the issue as politely as he could possibly muster. And Liz figured that the very moment was as good a time as any to discuss things. Even if she didn’t want.
Az shot the priest a dirty look, “Let the child eat dinner at least Leon.” She scolded.
“No. No… It’s fine…” Li mumbled, cutting a chunk of pork off the bone and forking it into her mouth, “the run wasn’t bad. Didn’t have to deal with any other Hunters, just a pack of Mutarats that got me on a pedestrian bridge- fuckers made me fall off- hence the face.”
Leon nodded as Az glowered at him, “The Midnight Rose… Did you manage to get your hands on one?”
“Yep. It was pretty easy… Wait- did someone bring it in?” Liz questioned.
“I did.” Toby butted in between forkfuls of black eyed peas, “It’s in the safe… When do we bring it to the auction?”
Liz cut off another chunk of fatty pork and placed it into her mouth. The herbs and spices blended perfectly with the fat making the bite practically melt in her mouth. It was simply divine. And if you asked Liz there was no better meal than Toby’s porkchops, greens, peas, and cornbread.
“Tomorrow. It’s in the performance hall in Fort Worth at eight.” Liz said in between bites.
Remi took his turn chiming in, “Who’s hosting it- and which of us are going?”
Another innocent question that made Liz pause and Jamison flinch. Liz could just feel the tension in the air at that moment because everyone had been to an auction in one way or another. But only Leon and Jamison had attended one consensually.
Silence reigned for a solid minute while everyone ate. But it was Liz who cut the tension with a verbal knife, “The Sinclairs…”
Toby winced, Az’s grip on her knife tightened to a white knuckle grip, Jamison’s face contorted into a horrifying grimace, and Leon blinked once. Remi was the only one who didn’t outwardly react, but Liz could tell that something was wrong. She’d have to be an idiot to not see it… And Remi had every reason to hate the Sinclairs and their grotesque auctions with every fiber of his being.
Hosts had to be made. Had to be trained. Had to be fed. And those that handled those things were never kind.
“And…” Liz’s words died in her throat, just to be washed down with a swig of sweet tea.
“I…” She tried again, “I get a plus one… That’s it.”
Silence reigned yet again, and yet again it was little Remi who broke it. His soft features turned hard as a aged granite and his voice was a dull rasp. But his words rang true, slicing through any notion of doubt anyone in the room had by sheer force of determination.
“I’ll go… Liz’ll need someone who can fight and-“ He took a bite from his not-porkchop, “And no offense, but none of y’all are packing the firepower to take on the Sinclairs if things go sideways.”
Leon sighed, pulled a flask from behind his suit jacket, unscrewed the top, and took a long pull. And from where she sat, Liz could smell how stout the stuff was. The acrid stench burned her nostrils, causing the girl to recoil.
“Well, you two are going to need clothes… I know for damn sure that the nicest thing Liz owns is a pearlsnap.” Toby said with a grin, causing Az to swat his shoulder and huff.
“And makeup.” Az chimed in, a small grin forming on her thin lips.
Leon couldn’t help but grin at that the shuddering of the two which was much to the chagrin of Liz and Remi. It was a small, delicate and genuine gesture. One that was incredibly rare to see. And Liz couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the notion.
“Well,” She started with a grin forming on her face, “I’ve always wanted to go to the opera, just didn’t think it’d take a shady and heavily fuckin’ illegal auction for a reality warping flower made out of the same shit that fake tits are made out of.”
Toby belted out a deep, raspy laugh as a grin spread to his face as well. Leading Jamison to also begin to smile from behind his glass of tea.
“I think I’ve got a spare stiletto and a three-eighty. You’re gonna need’em cowboy,” Jamison said with a grin, standing up and grabbing his dirty- but empty -plate, “Dishes… Gimme the dishes so I can get’em washed up… I’m tired as shit from all the wheeling and dealing at Raz’s.”
Toby quirked an eyebrow, “Whatcha get?”
“Was able to get a pair of PUCS and one of those ICED slug rifles along with a good hundred rounds for it… I’m planning on taking it to the shop and figuring out how the ammo works so we don’t have to spend a fortune on bullets,” Jamison explained as he collected everyone’s dishes.
PUCS, or Personal Utility and Crisis Suits were outfits designed with Stalkers in mind. They kept the wearer cool and protected them from the majority of external hazards. They were highly modifiable and were heavily sought after by Stalkers because of that reason. Which meant that decent quality ones could be quite expensive. But Raz liked Jamison because of how useful he was at procuring rare and oftentimes illicit materials.
But an ICED rifle was a completely different story. And the colloquially known slug rifles were considered an oddity. As they were hefty framed bolt action rifles chambered in a unique ten millimeter ‘slug’. They were also made with an underbarrel forty millimeter grenade launcher… Which raised the question as to ‘why’?
Stalkers and former ICED members reached the conclusion a decade ago that the best way to kill a host was to destroy their head. Because even if they could subconsciously regenerate, it is impossible for them to move if they don’t have a head. Making them much easier to kill or contain.
Leon nodded approvingly as the man attempted to disappear into the kitchen, only to be stopped by Toby who took the dishes in hand, “Lemme handle them why you lot talk shop.”
Jamison clapped Toby on the shoulder and plopped back down onto the couch, “We’ve got a lot of planning to do… That’s for damn sure.”
“Yep…” Liz echoed…