Winter's Edge: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (Outzone Drifter Series Book 1) by Mike Sheridan Page A
Authors: Mike Sheridan
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me.”
Bose smiled. “Chico will be back soon. Just hang in there,” he said. “You’ll be fine once he gets back with the medicine.”
The tribe was camped deep in one of the far valleys of the North Mountains and the nearest town that would have a supply of antibiotics was two days’ ride there and back, perhaps longer depending on the weather. The previous morning Bose had sent out a small group of riders led by his trusted lieutenant as Sureshot’s condition had gotten progressively worse. He hoped his leader could last until they returned.
However, Sureshot knew better. He shook his head firmly. “No, amigo, this is my time to go.” He stuck out a bony hand from beneath the blankets and clasped it over Bose’s wrist. It felt hot and clammy on his skin.
“Tomorrow, at first light, bring the council here to me. I will talk to them about the succession.” He gave Bose a weak smile. “I know how to play the game. I’ll make them pledge their allegiance to you in front of me. The wishes of a man on his deathbed are hard to resist.”
“Sure, Chief,” Bose said quietly. “In a week’s time you’ll be up again and riding your Dyna. But I’ll bring them…just in case.”
Sureshot looked pleased. “Good. One other thing. When I’m gone, I want you to take Daniella as your wife. A chief needs a good woman beside him, someone the tribe respects.”
Bose felt the cheeks of his scarred and weathered face coloring. “Chief, I can’t do that!”
Daniella was a tall, dark-skinned girl and the younger sister of Jamila, Sureshot’s wife. With a soft and gentle personality that matched her beauty, she had joined the tribe recently and didn’t have a man yet. The braves around the camp who had tried to catch her interest mistook her shyness for aloofness, and grumbled she was picky. Perhaps she was, or perhaps her sister was guiding her, telling her not to rush into things.
If Bose didn’t already have somebody, he might have been happy to hear Sureshot’s words. But he already had a girl, Roja, a lithe, raven-haired Latina as fiery as her name suggested. While he had no long term plans with her, they had been together for over six months. This would spell trouble. A lot of it.
The chief shook his head. “Roja is a hothead. She causes too much trouble. You only have to remember how you two met to know that.”
Bose had met Roja in Winter’s Edge, on a trip the Black Eagles had made to help settle a dispute that had broken out between two of the Kill City biker gangs. She had been at the heart of the feud, having killed a high-ranking rival member for some alleged slight. As part of the peace agreement, and for her own safety, she had agreed to leave her gang. That had been fine with Roja. By that time, she and Bose had already hooked up.
Still, Bose was stunned to hear his chief speak like this. He had never alluded to it before. A memory flashed through his mind. His close friend, Clement had recently brought up the subject too, as delicately as he could manage. Bose had told him angrily to shut up or lose his front teeth. It occurred to him, now, that perhaps Sureshot had put him up to it.
"The men, maybe they don’t care so much,” Sureshot continued. “Roja is young and pretty. That goes a long way when you are young and stupid and keep your brains down your pants. That won’t be in her favor with the women. Most just don’t get on with her. You’ll need their votes too if you want to become chief.”
What Sureshot said was true. Roja’s quick temper and haughty manner hadn’t exactly ingratiated her with the women of the tribe, who shared equal voting rights with the men. Theoretically, a woman could even challenge to become chief, though the rule of the blood challenge made sure that had never happened yet.
Bose opened his mouth to argue. Sureshot cut him short. “If you want to become chief, you must chose a wife, as our laws demand. One who’ll help win you the votes,” he said
Bose smiled. “Chico will be back soon. Just hang in there,” he said. “You’ll be fine once he gets back with the medicine.”
The tribe was camped deep in one of the far valleys of the North Mountains and the nearest town that would have a supply of antibiotics was two days’ ride there and back, perhaps longer depending on the weather. The previous morning Bose had sent out a small group of riders led by his trusted lieutenant as Sureshot’s condition had gotten progressively worse. He hoped his leader could last until they returned.
However, Sureshot knew better. He shook his head firmly. “No, amigo, this is my time to go.” He stuck out a bony hand from beneath the blankets and clasped it over Bose’s wrist. It felt hot and clammy on his skin.
“Tomorrow, at first light, bring the council here to me. I will talk to them about the succession.” He gave Bose a weak smile. “I know how to play the game. I’ll make them pledge their allegiance to you in front of me. The wishes of a man on his deathbed are hard to resist.”
“Sure, Chief,” Bose said quietly. “In a week’s time you’ll be up again and riding your Dyna. But I’ll bring them…just in case.”
Sureshot looked pleased. “Good. One other thing. When I’m gone, I want you to take Daniella as your wife. A chief needs a good woman beside him, someone the tribe respects.”
Bose felt the cheeks of his scarred and weathered face coloring. “Chief, I can’t do that!”
Daniella was a tall, dark-skinned girl and the younger sister of Jamila, Sureshot’s wife. With a soft and gentle personality that matched her beauty, she had joined the tribe recently and didn’t have a man yet. The braves around the camp who had tried to catch her interest mistook her shyness for aloofness, and grumbled she was picky. Perhaps she was, or perhaps her sister was guiding her, telling her not to rush into things.
If Bose didn’t already have somebody, he might have been happy to hear Sureshot’s words. But he already had a girl, Roja, a lithe, raven-haired Latina as fiery as her name suggested. While he had no long term plans with her, they had been together for over six months. This would spell trouble. A lot of it.
The chief shook his head. “Roja is a hothead. She causes too much trouble. You only have to remember how you two met to know that.”
Bose had met Roja in Winter’s Edge, on a trip the Black Eagles had made to help settle a dispute that had broken out between two of the Kill City biker gangs. She had been at the heart of the feud, having killed a high-ranking rival member for some alleged slight. As part of the peace agreement, and for her own safety, she had agreed to leave her gang. That had been fine with Roja. By that time, she and Bose had already hooked up.
Still, Bose was stunned to hear his chief speak like this. He had never alluded to it before. A memory flashed through his mind. His close friend, Clement had recently brought up the subject too, as delicately as he could manage. Bose had told him angrily to shut up or lose his front teeth. It occurred to him, now, that perhaps Sureshot had put him up to it.
"The men, maybe they don’t care so much,” Sureshot continued. “Roja is young and pretty. That goes a long way when you are young and stupid and keep your brains down your pants. That won’t be in her favor with the women. Most just don’t get on with her. You’ll need their votes too if you want to become chief.”
What Sureshot said was true. Roja’s quick temper and haughty manner hadn’t exactly ingratiated her with the women of the tribe, who shared equal voting rights with the men. Theoretically, a woman could even challenge to become chief, though the rule of the blood challenge made sure that had never happened yet.
Bose opened his mouth to argue. Sureshot cut him short. “If you want to become chief, you must chose a wife, as our laws demand. One who’ll help win you the votes,” he said
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