Chapter 4

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

Without him asking, Jet walked quietly along to where the track sharply curved to the left, then stopped. Devon took a breath, then swung his left leg over the horse’s back and jumped down. When he landed, he turned and reached up to help Beth down, only to hear her land just behind him a moment later.

“Looking for me?” Beth whispered to him.

“Not really,” Devon answered, then wearily turned to face her.

Beth put a finger to her lips and pointed into the trees.

With a sigh, Devon followed her into cover. he thought to her.

Jet replied.

Devon was able to put concerns about her safety to one side. The way she communicated with him always came with a sense of friendship and warmth. He still marvelled at how his brain could assemble the stream of images and concepts Jet sent him and translate them into her words.

It took a few minutes to skulk up to the edge of the slavers’ camp. At one point, Beth turned and stared at him. “How can you move so quietly?” she demanded in a whisper. “You’re a large man, and yet you move without any noise at all.”

Devon just shrugged. “You probably can’t hear me over the noise you make.” He motioned for her to move on. Fortunately, Beth didn’t press the question, and so he was saved having to invent a response.

The trees ended abruptly. They found some large bushes to use for cover. With a bit of manoeuvring, they managed to wriggle under one and obtained a fair view of the small camp without being too visible.

Fortunately, they still had the cover of partial darkness because their position wasn’t brilliant. In front of them was a large floodlight illuminating the grass-carpeted clearing and the camp itself. A generator squatted beside the light. It rumbled happily to itself, generously providing some noise cover too. There were several roughly constructed wooden huts clustered around a large, central campfire. One had its door facing them, another off to the left, and the last just to the right. Stones encircled the campfire to stop it from spreading out, although the fire smoked listlessly rather than burnt at this time of the morning. The musty smell of smoke, damp clothes, and sweat reached Devon’s nose. Just off to the right, past the hut, was the beginning of the rough dirt road that led back to the road. Beside the track sat three empty cages identical to the one Devon had found Beth locked in. Near them, another flatbed van was parked. He saw wheel marks in the grass beside the truck, so he guessed that the vehicle Beth had taken was usually parked in that position. The place looked deserted apart from two men that sat on a long log to the left of the fire.

Izzy laughed inside Devon’s head.

Devon scrambled out from under the bush and grinned at the wisp. She was spinning excitedly and had turned a shade of vivid pink. Devon asked her.

Izzy replied, her wisp turning grey. She managed to convey a pout through her thoughts, and her wisp puckered.

Devon’s muscles had started to feel listless, and he could feel his mood darkening. He was beginning to tire. It felt that he didn’t have much to spare before his body called time.

Izzy replied.

Devon was impressed that she’d managed to find out so much in the short time she’d been gone. He swept his hand through his long fringe while thinking about what Izzy had told him. There were a lot of targets to deal with. Especially when his abilities were utterly untested unless he planned to throw rocks at them.

Izzy replied nonchalantly.

More than anything else, he hoped she’d found them.

He blew the wisp a kiss in an exaggerated gesture.

Izzy’s wisp turned a deep red colour. she thought back to him. She was still amazed that she had started reacting that way to him. If this continued, things would get complicated.

He shook his head in wonder at Izzy. The changing colour thing is cool, he thought. My life may have become weirder than I dare to contemplate, but it has some perks.

Then he realised the situation he was now in. He had all the information about the camp but no right way to explain to Beth how he’d got it.

He reached back into the bush and tapped Beth’s ankle. She twitched then scrambled backwards out of the bush.

“What?” she snapped, glaring at him angrily. She was annoyed that he had dared to touch her.

“Woah! Calm down, you crazy female,” Devon responded. He wondered why Beth was so quick to turn hostile toward him. “I just wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t call out to you.”

Beth sighed and mussed her hair. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. I’m not handling any of this very well. What did you want?”

“I don’t suppose you know which hut your friends are in, do you?” he whispered to Beth.

“I think they’re in that one.” Beth pointed to the one on the right.

Right answer! “Okay. Assuming that’s where they are, we ought to also assume that the other two buildings have hostile occupants,” Devon said.

“That would be fair.” She nodded.

“Here’s the stinging question, Beth. How many hostiles do you think you could fight at one time?”

She looked at him worriedly. “Uhm! None, maybe one at a push – possibly. Sorry, Devon. I’m a scout, not a fighter. I’ve got my crossbow, but I only carry it for defence. Once I fire it, then it takes me forever to reload.”

Izzy asked.

Izzy chirpily replied.

“Beth, have you got a plan yet, or would you be open to a suggestion?” Devon thought it prudent to let Beth lead. This was her party, after all.

Beth looked a little crestfallen and shrugged. “I’ll take suggestions.”

“Do you think you could sneak into the room where your friends are?” Devon swallowed hard before committing to the next part. “If I could drop those two on the log without raising the alarm?”

Beth blinked at him in shock. “You could do that?”

“Well, you’ve just told me you couldn’t. I won’t know if I can until I try, but I have a feeling that I could,” Devon hazarded. He wasn’t confident in himself at all.

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Looking at Beth, he gave a little shrug and sighed. “Are we going to try this?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Beth said. “I can’t leave them in there. I’d never see them again. If I must risk my life to get them out, then I have to try.”

“Your life won’t be in any danger if I can help it. You’ve got this, Beth,” Devon said, trying to reassure her. He could sense the pressure that Beth was putting on herself to rescue her friends, understanding why she had to do this even though she didn’t feel up to it. Helping her was just the right thing to do.

“Wait here and watch the two on the log. If they topple and stay down, and if no-one starts reacting, sprint across to the hut where your friends are and try and get them out,” Devon said.

Beth nodded gravely.

“If you free them, lead them back here. If I’m not here waiting for you, just keep going and get back to the van as quickly as you can. Then head for wherever it is you call home. Don’t stop to wait for me.”

Beth looked as if she was about to say something but instead reached over and touched his arm. She nodded and moved back into the bush to watch the two sentries.

Devon crept a short way around the edge of the clearing, trying to be as quiet as possible, until he had a clear view of the backs of the two men. He drew a throwing knife into each hand and readied them. He carefully assessed the range, and his instinct took over. Understanding of how the blades would rotate at that range and how to adjust his hold to compensate for the spin was all there in his head. He revelled in the knowledge of such things.

He drew his arms back with a quiet exhalation and threw both knives at the man on the left. The daggers spun away, and in just a fraction of a heartbeat, both embedded themselves deeply, just below the man’s skull. The man fell forward, his life extinguished.

A heartbeat later, Devon had more knives in his hands and had thrown them too. Realising his partner had fallen, the target just had time to move slightly, and the left blade missed him; luckily, the other hit and sank deeply into his neck. The man managed to cry out in surprise before he fell off the log and lay still.

A few tension-laced seconds passed. Devon waited for the pandemonium to erupt. Instead, he heard footsteps inside the building to the left, where Izzy had said the four other slavers were.

Shit! Here we go.

He looked right and saw Beth darting across the clearing to the hut where her friends were. She, evidently, hadn’t heard the footsteps. Devon needed to act before someone emerged and saw her. He quickly ran out into the clearing, feet moving swiftly, then bolted for the side of the building.

His destination reached without trouble; he tucked himself flat against the wall, perpendicular to the door. He carefully withdrew the swords from his back. His muscles sang, and his heart pumped rapidly. The feeling of the blood racing through his arteries elated him. Devon felt built for this type of action. He breathed deeply, then focused. The door opened, and Devon waited another second before jumping out and spinning to face the door, side-on. The tension that had built in preparation for a fight died a little. No-one was there. Whoever had opened the door must be standing just inside.

“What? I’m just going to see what that bloody noise was,” a male voice grumbled from inside the doorway.

Devon couldn’t see anything from his position as he was looking at the door from the side. Instead, he took a chance. Devon reached around at stomach height and stabbed his sword hard into the doorway, withdrawing his blade upon hearing a pained grunt. Something heavy and well-padded collapsed onto the floor. Devon’s nose twitched as he scented the man’s blood. Looking at his sword, he saw six inches of gore coating it. Strike one.

“Ben! What’s wrong? Fuck, he’s bleeding,” another voice shouted from inside the hut.

Aaaannnd action! Devon raced through the door and only just managed to jump over the prone man who lay there in his vest and underpants. Quickly taking in the scene, he saw two other men in their underpants running toward the door, each clutching a knife. The fourth was just scrabbling out of his bed at the far end.

Devon leapt forward to close the distance to his charging assailants. He lunged at the one on the left, who was slightly ahead of the other. The man swung at him with his dagger hand outstretched, and Devon swung the blade in his left hand without a thought. His sword swung up and across in a diagonal motion knocking the incoming blade aside and severing the man’s hand. Thrusting forward with his right blade, he impaled the now screaming man through the chest.

By this point, the other man had got within attacking range and aimed a low blow intended to impale Devon in his right kidney.

Devon stepped back with his right leg, thus angling his body toward his latest attacker. The man’s wild lunge glanced harmlessly across Devon’s armour. Using his assailant’s forward motion, he brought both blades up and crossed them in front of the man’s neck. He then uncrossed the swords forcibly while pushing them forward. The man froze. His head tilted and toppled sideways while his body collapsed. Blood flowing freely from both.

“You bastard! I’ll fucking kill you,” the last man screamed at Devon. He charged madly at him with a short sword outstretched. Just as the man reached him, Devon stepped to the right and stuck his left foot out. The man tripped over it and fell flat on his face. Devon was on him in an instant, two blades piercing the man’s back.

Again, Devon felt the urge to reach out with his arm. He replaced his blades and allowed his right arm to reach forward, palm cupped and facing upwards. The bodies began to mist and sparkle, then four shadows sped to him, disappearing into his waiting hand. A second later, two more rushed in through the door and joined the others.

Izzy’s thought to him was sombre, her wisp now black.

Devon sank to his knees, his body shaking as shock and understanding washed through him. Tears flowed unbidden from his eyes, down his blood-spattered face. Ignoring the gore that coated the floor, he bowed his head in shame and wept. Recent events and emotions caught up with him all at once. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure that the Reaper that Izzy had referred to was him. The human he had been cursed to be was gone. His mind felt no confusion or doubt now. Death was who he had always been, and Jet was his horse.

Izzy’s thoughts were both regretful and apologetic.

Sniffing, he sighed hard and got back to his feet. The hut reeked of blood and effluent from the bodies. The floor was sticky and gruesome, and he was done in here.

He retrieved another two throwing-knives and crept back out of the door. Once outside, he saw Beth emerging from the building accompanied by a woman and a man.

she replied, her thoughts were grim, and her wisp turned black.

He saw Beth glance across to him, and her face froze in horror. It wasn’t a surprise. He was coated from head to feet in blood and gore from his last encounter. His swords were still dripping blood down his back, and he was in a defensive crouch with knives in his hands. He must be a scary thing to behold. Her friends saw where she was staring and followed her gaze. Their faces took on the same terrified visage.

At that moment, the door to the last occupied building was flung open. Devon saw a tall, heavyset man emerge. Like his colleagues, he was trouser-less, but unlike the others, he had a pistol. Double shit! Not good. He didn’t have a good answer for guns. He needed to close the gap.

There was a moment’s pause, and then there was a gunshot.

In the same instance, Devon launched both of his knives at the man and jumped hard to the left. He rolled when he landed and then emerged from the roll on his feet, going straight into a weaving sprint toward the gunman. Devon drew another knife and threw it as a second gunshot rang out. He felt an intense pain pierce his left shoulder and another erupt from his back.

Devon was knocked off-balance slightly, but he gritted his teeth and pushed hard against the agony that was trying to claim him. It yielded somewhat, allowing him to run on. Owwww, that smarts!

A loud exclamation of pain came from his target just before Devon managed to reach him. His third throwing-knife had found the man’s chest. The man winced but managed to aim his gun again. In an instant, Devon unsheathed both daggers and dived into another roll, attempting to avoid the next shot. He was so nearly there.

Sure enough, another gunshot echoed around the clearing, but no more pain found him. Instead, he emerged from his roll on one knee, both daggers piercing steeply upwards into the man’s groin. His momentum pushed the blades deeper, forcing them up to the hilt. He pulled the knives back quickly with a spiteful twist, and a fountain of gore followed them out. Rolling to the side, he got to his feet again.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyeowwww!” the man screamed while sinking to his knees. He gave Devon a hate-filled look and then fell backwards.

Izzy squealed.

Devon stepped inside the last hut and was grateful for the lack of any other hostiles. He did notice a girl, prone, on the bed, sobbing; her clothes were mostly intact, so he hoped he’d got there in time. The thought occurred to him to help the stricken woman, but maybe the last thing she wanted to see was another man. Especially one coated in blood. He turned and stepped back out.

Looking back over to where he’d last seen Beth, he noticed that she was still standing there, staring at him with the same horror. “Beth, I think your other friend is in there,” he said, pointing back into the building.

Devon cleaned his daggers on the man’s clothes, then re-sheathed them. He bent over the corpse and pulled out his throwing-knife while, at the same time, surreptitiously harvesting the man’s shadowy spirit. Devon was reasonably sure that Beth hadn’t seen his actions. No need to reveal more than necessary.

He was happy that he would be parting ways with Beth and her friends. He would be glad to have a little time to gather his thoughts and work out who he was now. Blood dripped from his shoulder. The bullet had passed through, but he’d need to patch himself up somehow.

Devon considered looting the bodies but decided he had no interest in anything they had, including that man’s pistol. Guns had no fascination for him, and he certainly had no ambition ever to use one. Instead, Devon went over to retrieve his other blades from the bodies by the log. After wiping them and stowing them away, he slumped down and let exhaustion take him.

Izzy thought to him. She’d turned a soothing beige colour, and her thoughts brought sympathy and care with them, and Devon felt grateful.

Then something hard hit him across the back of his head, and the lights winked out.