Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) by Matthew S. Cox Page B

and pulled his body towards her, gurgling. Another bullet glanced off his back, gouging the armor.
    She assaulted the cage, pounding and slapping while shrieking. “Let me out! Please, don’t die!”
    Althea did not notice Rachel’s gaze locked upon him, a vengeful, eager grin from ear to ear.
    Three men sauntered around the corner of the ancient machinery, as if they had all the time in the world. Two reloaded their rifles as the third spat on his back. Althea cringed at the metallic
clack
of weapons cocking. They laughed at their wounded leader and leveled their weapons at him.
    “Din ka’ya diem, motherfucker.”
    The mortal challenge, spoken through a laugh.
    “Don’t kill him.” Althea wailed, slapping the cage wall. “Please, no!”
    Up on her tiptoes, she rattled all her weight against the door, screaming as a barrage of gunfire painted the floor with an ocean of sanguine crimson that burbled through twisted metal flowers around the exit wounds. For an instant, Vakkar looked at her in silent apology before deflating with a final gurgle. His cheek slapped onto the floor.
    She shuddered, feeling an icy claw at her heart as life left him.
    Palms flat against the grating, Althea slid down until she knelt among the tatters of her skirt. With her face pressed into the steel, only her fingers hooked through the gaps above her head prevented her from falling over. All strength had left her from watching this man die so close and being unable to stop it.
    “Why?” She fell into sobs as the raiders ran off laughing.
    Zhar kicked the partition between cages. “The hell are you crying over a piece of shit for? Don’t you dare feel sorry for that bastard.”
    Ramani made a spitting gesture in Vakkar’s direction and put a trembling hand on Zhar’s shoulder. Her voice came hardly more than a whisper. “She is life. Any death hurts her, even one as vile as him.”
    The Indian woman recoiled from the angry glare, but as much as they loathed Vakkar, Ramani’s words made sense. Rachel scooted to the wall, calling Althea by name, trying to distract her from the heavy sobs that wracked her little body.
    Zhar went to the front of the cell, straining to get a view of what was going on, and wound up staring at the post. Her fingers could not fit through the diamond-shaped holes in the lattice, much less stretch the six feet beyond it to the key. She kicked at the door, making the entire partition shake, but could not batter it down. Aya’s calm demeanor had fled; the security of her place as the most favored among prized pets had vanished with Vakkar’s life.
    Althea raised her head, sniveling from her grief. While Zhar paced, the other three crawled close and huddled against the barrier between cells.
    “Please help us!” Ramani wailed, the loudest she had ever been.
    The ring of a ricochet near the roof preceded a clank Althea felt in the grating.
    Aya’s voice trembled. “I don’t want to die, please… Please do something!”
    Rachel’s tone was more commanding. “Look, kid. We can’t take the chance of just waiting here to see what happens. Those raiders are killing each other. With Vakkar dead, do you have any idea what they’ll do to us when they stop fighting? They’re gonna line us up and take turns. I saw how they looked at you. They don’t respect you like Vakkar did.”
    Althea cringed. Vakkar’s lieutenants had not much cared for her being free to roam while out of the cell. Her fear of going from a sought-after Prophet to a hunted pariah made her search for a compromise in an uncompromising situation.
    Breathless, her voice sounded like she did not even believe her own words. “Don’t be afraid. I am the Prophet, and you are special, rare pretties. They won’t harm―”
    A small rocket broke through the far end of the factory and detonated against an ancient hulk, knocking pipes and metal bits into the air in a glittering cloud of debris and dust.
    “Wanna rethink that, kiddo?” Rachel tugged