Read Online Vile Wasteland (A Post Apocalyptic Novel) by J.E. Keep, M. Keep - Free Book Online Page A
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was obvious the large, seasoned man was still mulling it all
over in his head. But he looked over her and the mostly eaten
food–his all gone, of course–and shook his head in an
unknowing look. "Maybe, but probably not," he stated.
"Humans can be worse than the Viles at times. And if they’re
gettin’ some of their ability to think and calculate back, but
still got their nasty rage in ‘em, then that only makes them
worse. By tenfold," he added, sounding quite certain now.
"Oh," she slumped back in the bench, pushing her final
hot dog towards him, "Well. You think they’re gonna come
back here soon? I’m here for a few days so..."
With a shake of his head he said, "I don’t know that.
Only puttin’ the pieces together now that I spoke to you."
He looked her over again then, "Where are you headed then?"
he asked.
"I don’t know," she shrugged. "Just tryin’
to get some shit together for the people back home," she sighed.
"It wasn’t supposed to take long, just trade what I had,
get what I needed, then come on back. Now I’m worse off than
when I started."
Nodding slowly to her he said simply, "I see," then went
back to pondering, puffing on his cigar now and then. "What sort
of shit you trying to get together for your bunker buddies?" he
asked in that same slowly calculating manner he had about everything.
She was too accepting to be sceptical of his questioning, and
eagerly responded, "Food. Food and seeds and equipment to grow
our own."
"You won't get that here." The statement was
unequivocal, irrefutable in the way his gruff, slightly rasping voice
said it. "The town’s leader has ordered a halt to all
trade of food and foodstuffs," he clarified. "After the
raid, they can’t afford to give anything away, they say. Hell,
they’ve even confiscated what food there is from the traders,
holed it away for safekeeping."
Shaking his head he gave her a slight frown, "Sorry, Alex."
"Not your fault," she sighed, though she seemed
dejected. Her chin rested in her hands as she stared at him for a
long few moments. "Fuck," she sighed as she pushed herself
back, straightening her posture. "There’s only so much I
can fuckin’ lose, you know."
The stoic mercenary eyed her in quiet contemplation a while. "How
badly you need that stuff?" he enquired, puffing on his cigar,
gears obviously turning behind those curious amber eyes of his.
"About as badly as people need to eat in order to survive,"
she admitted, suddenly feeling a bit guilty at the fullness of her
stomach and her rejected food.
Mulling over her words, his eyes slid down at nothing in
particular. Lost in thought for a bit the older man took a final puff
on his cigar before stubbing it out and looking to her, "There’s
no other town worth a damn for trading within a week of here,"
he stated. "So unless your people can hold on for a couple of
weeks for you to return with a big load of supplies, you have you get
what you need here." The man was calculating his way through
some sort of equation, she thought.
"They’re already dying," Alex said, her voice
lowered in some private shame. Licking over her lips, she forced
herself to continue eating past the point of comfort. "If I can
just get something to help them hold on while I find more...
something that can get it started..."
Without another word Grent stood up, the tall broad man reaching
out, pushing the baskets of food from her and taking her hand,
tugging her up with him. "Don’t worry about that," he
said, "someone will eat it once we go."
"Oh... good," she sighed with some relief as she was
tugged up, "Where are we going?" she murmured up to him,
taking out her redemption chip for her gun.
He didn’t go to the front door as she suspected, however,
with her in tow he took her to a door at the back wall nearby, that
led to a stairwell. Heading up it he kept her close at hand answering
her at last as they reached the end of the first flight by pressing
her between the wall and him. Despite his
over in his head. But he looked over her and the mostly eaten
food–his all gone, of course–and shook his head in an
unknowing look. "Maybe, but probably not," he stated.
"Humans can be worse than the Viles at times. And if they’re
gettin’ some of their ability to think and calculate back, but
still got their nasty rage in ‘em, then that only makes them
worse. By tenfold," he added, sounding quite certain now.
"Oh," she slumped back in the bench, pushing her final
hot dog towards him, "Well. You think they’re gonna come
back here soon? I’m here for a few days so..."
With a shake of his head he said, "I don’t know that.
Only puttin’ the pieces together now that I spoke to you."
He looked her over again then, "Where are you headed then?"
he asked.
"I don’t know," she shrugged. "Just tryin’
to get some shit together for the people back home," she sighed.
"It wasn’t supposed to take long, just trade what I had,
get what I needed, then come on back. Now I’m worse off than
when I started."
Nodding slowly to her he said simply, "I see," then went
back to pondering, puffing on his cigar now and then. "What sort
of shit you trying to get together for your bunker buddies?" he
asked in that same slowly calculating manner he had about everything.
She was too accepting to be sceptical of his questioning, and
eagerly responded, "Food. Food and seeds and equipment to grow
our own."
"You won't get that here." The statement was
unequivocal, irrefutable in the way his gruff, slightly rasping voice
said it. "The town’s leader has ordered a halt to all
trade of food and foodstuffs," he clarified. "After the
raid, they can’t afford to give anything away, they say. Hell,
they’ve even confiscated what food there is from the traders,
holed it away for safekeeping."
Shaking his head he gave her a slight frown, "Sorry, Alex."
"Not your fault," she sighed, though she seemed
dejected. Her chin rested in her hands as she stared at him for a
long few moments. "Fuck," she sighed as she pushed herself
back, straightening her posture. "There’s only so much I
can fuckin’ lose, you know."
The stoic mercenary eyed her in quiet contemplation a while. "How
badly you need that stuff?" he enquired, puffing on his cigar,
gears obviously turning behind those curious amber eyes of his.
"About as badly as people need to eat in order to survive,"
she admitted, suddenly feeling a bit guilty at the fullness of her
stomach and her rejected food.
Mulling over her words, his eyes slid down at nothing in
particular. Lost in thought for a bit the older man took a final puff
on his cigar before stubbing it out and looking to her, "There’s
no other town worth a damn for trading within a week of here,"
he stated. "So unless your people can hold on for a couple of
weeks for you to return with a big load of supplies, you have you get
what you need here." The man was calculating his way through
some sort of equation, she thought.
"They’re already dying," Alex said, her voice
lowered in some private shame. Licking over her lips, she forced
herself to continue eating past the point of comfort. "If I can
just get something to help them hold on while I find more...
something that can get it started..."
Without another word Grent stood up, the tall broad man reaching
out, pushing the baskets of food from her and taking her hand,
tugging her up with him. "Don’t worry about that," he
said, "someone will eat it once we go."
"Oh... good," she sighed with some relief as she was
tugged up, "Where are we going?" she murmured up to him,
taking out her redemption chip for her gun.
He didn’t go to the front door as she suspected, however,
with her in tow he took her to a door at the back wall nearby, that
led to a stairwell. Heading up it he kept her close at hand answering
her at last as they reached the end of the first flight by pressing
her between the wall and him. Despite his
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