Slave Empire - Prophecy

Rawn woke shivering and threw off the musty curtains to go and sit in the sun’s feeble warmth. He cursed the many abuses this cruel world heaped upon his head daily, adding one more to the list. Now he was not only hungry, dirty, cold and weary, but lonely as well. He watched a group of vagrants trying to catch a rat in the filth. The mutated rodents were the size of rabbits, but still slim pickings for four people. Three ragged, skinny men and a woman, brown with dirt, chased the rat with starved desperation. The woman gave a thin cackle as she caught it, which turned into a squeal when it bit her. She dropped it, and the men groaned as it dived into a storm drain. One cuffed her, growling something unintelligible.

  Rawn’s lips twisted, and he looked away. It turned his stomach to watch them. They were worse than animals. Would he end up like them when the food stores emptied? The group shuffled off down the street, kicking the piles of rubbish heaped against the walls in search of another rat. A sudden urge to quit the city took hold of him, and he jumped up. He would go to the meeting place. Rayne was bound to go there eventually, if she was not already there, waiting for him. Either that or an autocrat had captured her, in which case he would never see her again. He set off at a run, the exertion warming him.

  An hour later, Rawn loped along next to a derelict building, approaching a doorway. He always stopped to peer into doorways before crossing them. Raiders often lay in wait to ambush others of their own kind to steal weapons, clothes and food. A blonde girl in a ragged mini skirt burst out of the door, and he dropped into a crouch, drawing his pistol, then recognised Rayne and shouted her name. She spun and pulled a gun from her waistband, aiming it at him. He lowered his weapon, strode up to her and swept her into bear hug, and she clung to him until he held her away to study her, grinning.

  “Thank god you’re all right,” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Me too! What happened to you?”

  “I went to the grove to meet you! What happened to you?”

  “I was attacked -”

  “Let’s get off the street.” He glanced at the doorway. “What were you running from?”

  “I don’t know. I just heard a noise.”

  “Right.” He approached the door, his pistol at the ready, and scanned the room inside. It looked like a foyer, with rows of post boxes on one wall, and was empty save for some boxes, rags and litter. “Looks okay.”

  “It was probably rats.”

  He holstered his weapon. “Do you have any food? I’m starved.”

  Rayne tucked away her pistol and handed him a food bar as they entered the room. They sat on the boxes just inside the doorway, where they could watch the street and the room’s other door, which gave a view of a staircase blocked by rubbish.

  Rawn tore at the food bar. “Where did you get the gun?”

  She unwrapped another bar and took a bite. “I raided a store and was chased. Someone… shot them, so I took their weapons.”

  “Someone? You didn’t see him?”

  “I did, but he was… disguised.”

  Rawn sensed that she was not telling him the whole story, but, he mused, in all likelihood another raider had sniped the guards, either taking the opportunity to kill a few foes or hoping his help would earn him the gratitude of a pretty girl, or both. If it was the latter, a raider was probably shadowing her, waiting for an opportune moment to reveal himself and reap the benefits of his help. Any red-blooded man would want to get to know Rayne, and her being alone had given a would-be partner an excellent reason to approach her and offer his help. Of course, that was supposing her helper was a decent sort; most raiders would want to capture her for their own pleasure. Now she was safe with him once more, but that did not mean her stalker would give up.

  “You only took one gun?” he enquired.

  “Yeah; I stashed the rest. We can go and fetch them if you want.”

  He nodded. “We should.”

  “I brought some ammo.” She took a full clip from her jacket pocket and held it out.

  He inspected it. “It’s 9mm. It won’t fit my .45. Let me check the gun.”

  Rayne handed a 9mm automatic over, and he examined it, ejected a spent shell casing and chambered a round, then switched the safety on and placed it on the box beside him.

  She smiled. “You don’t trust me with it?”

  “No, I do, I just think we need to find you a holster for it, so it doesn’t get lost. The guards will have holsters.”

  She pulled a face. “True. I didn’t think to take one.”

  “How long ago did it happen?”

  “This morning.”

  “The cops might have found the bodies and removed them by now, but maybe not. We should get going.” He finished his food bar and tossed the wrapper away.