Arthur. “I’ve got mine still. Come on, we have to go.”
“Where? What’s the plan?”
He glanced at her as if surprised she needed an answer. “Find Kim and get out of here.”
“Who are these people?” asked Annie as she slipped on her boots.
“Raiders. They found the trader camp and wiped them out. They’ve been here pretending to be traders and murdering whoever came near.”
“So we’re going to kill them, right?” asked Annie.
“First we’re going to find Kim, then we’ll figure out our next move. Come on, we need to hurry.”
“Do you know where they took her?”
“I’ve got a guess,” said Arthur, although he hoped he was wrong.
They left the tent and Arthur moved fast to the body of the man with The Bleeder stuck in his temple. He set his foot against the man’s head and jerked the blade free. Then he stabbed The Bleeder into the snow a few times before wiping it clean.
The storm was getting worse, but the snow couldn’t collect in the hot blood that was leaking from the man at Arthur’s feet. The steaming pool was illuminated in the moonlight as the snowflakes melted within it.
“Where are we going?” Annie whispered as she stood beside Arthur.
He pointed The Bleeder out towards a trailer that was parked away from the fenced yard where the tents were located. “I bet she’s in there.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Annie.
“That’s the Fuck Truck.” He used the slang term for the prostitute trailer.
Arthur knew that Annie understood why they needed to hurry. It was an unsavory truth of the post apocalypse that sex was a valuable commodity. Despite how the traders tried to appear wholesome, they all practiced the world’s oldest profession. Every trader caravan Arthur had ever encountered had a trailer or camper that was meant for sex, usually outfitted with multiple beds and partitions. Whores were kept for travelers looking for company and willing to trade for it. Sex slavery was something that the Rollers tried their best to fight against, but sometimes it seemed more pervasive than the zombies that plagued the world.
“Do you think…” Annie started to ask, but Arthur interrupted her.
“Let’s go.”
He was worried about lookouts, but hoped the two boys that were supposed to murder him had also been tasked with keeping watch. Arthur paid close attention to the footprints in the snow and pointed out a set of two that branched away from the fence ’s gate. The prints headed off in the direction of the prostitute trailer.
The trailer was hitched to a semi, and there was a door on the side with a list of rules painted next to it. Arthur and Annie followed the tracks to a stepstool that was set beside the truck’s door. He glanced at the rules:
1) No screaming.
2) No blood.
3) No kids.
It was a common set of rules seen on these types of trailers. The underground market had come to refer to the Fuck Trucks by the number of rules they had printed by the door. This one would be called a Three, because it had three rules. More deviant patrons would search for caravans that had a Two, One, or even a Zero Fuck Truck in tow.
Arthur tried the door, but found it locked. He mouthed a curse and then pointed at the back of the truck. He motioned for Annie to stand guard at the door while he went to the back to try and get in from there. She nodded and kept her gun ready while Arthur hurried away.
The storm was getting worse by the second. Even the wind had started to pick up, driving blast after blast of bitter air into Arthur’s face. He ignored it as best he could and got to the back of the truck. It was closed, but not padlocked. He knew that lifting the lock would alert anyone inside that he was coming in, but he had no other choice. With his pistol at his side, he jerked the lever up to release the door and then swung it open.
It was set up as most of the prostitute trailers were, with a thin hall on one side and a line of
“Where? What’s the plan?”
He glanced at her as if surprised she needed an answer. “Find Kim and get out of here.”
“Who are these people?” asked Annie as she slipped on her boots.
“Raiders. They found the trader camp and wiped them out. They’ve been here pretending to be traders and murdering whoever came near.”
“So we’re going to kill them, right?” asked Annie.
“First we’re going to find Kim, then we’ll figure out our next move. Come on, we need to hurry.”
“Do you know where they took her?”
“I’ve got a guess,” said Arthur, although he hoped he was wrong.
They left the tent and Arthur moved fast to the body of the man with The Bleeder stuck in his temple. He set his foot against the man’s head and jerked the blade free. Then he stabbed The Bleeder into the snow a few times before wiping it clean.
The storm was getting worse, but the snow couldn’t collect in the hot blood that was leaking from the man at Arthur’s feet. The steaming pool was illuminated in the moonlight as the snowflakes melted within it.
“Where are we going?” Annie whispered as she stood beside Arthur.
He pointed The Bleeder out towards a trailer that was parked away from the fenced yard where the tents were located. “I bet she’s in there.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Annie.
“That’s the Fuck Truck.” He used the slang term for the prostitute trailer.
Arthur knew that Annie understood why they needed to hurry. It was an unsavory truth of the post apocalypse that sex was a valuable commodity. Despite how the traders tried to appear wholesome, they all practiced the world’s oldest profession. Every trader caravan Arthur had ever encountered had a trailer or camper that was meant for sex, usually outfitted with multiple beds and partitions. Whores were kept for travelers looking for company and willing to trade for it. Sex slavery was something that the Rollers tried their best to fight against, but sometimes it seemed more pervasive than the zombies that plagued the world.
“Do you think…” Annie started to ask, but Arthur interrupted her.
“Let’s go.”
He was worried about lookouts, but hoped the two boys that were supposed to murder him had also been tasked with keeping watch. Arthur paid close attention to the footprints in the snow and pointed out a set of two that branched away from the fence ’s gate. The prints headed off in the direction of the prostitute trailer.
The trailer was hitched to a semi, and there was a door on the side with a list of rules painted next to it. Arthur and Annie followed the tracks to a stepstool that was set beside the truck’s door. He glanced at the rules:
1) No screaming.
2) No blood.
3) No kids.
It was a common set of rules seen on these types of trailers. The underground market had come to refer to the Fuck Trucks by the number of rules they had printed by the door. This one would be called a Three, because it had three rules. More deviant patrons would search for caravans that had a Two, One, or even a Zero Fuck Truck in tow.
Arthur tried the door, but found it locked. He mouthed a curse and then pointed at the back of the truck. He motioned for Annie to stand guard at the door while he went to the back to try and get in from there. She nodded and kept her gun ready while Arthur hurried away.
The storm was getting worse by the second. Even the wind had started to pick up, driving blast after blast of bitter air into Arthur’s face. He ignored it as best he could and got to the back of the truck. It was closed, but not padlocked. He knew that lifting the lock would alert anyone inside that he was coming in, but he had no other choice. With his pistol at his side, he jerked the lever up to release the door and then swung it open.
It was set up as most of the prostitute trailers were, with a thin hall on one side and a line of
Similar Books
