S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Season One Omnibus (109 page)

Casey nods. “Yeah, last thing you want is to get bitten,” he says in a low voice, as if I'm stupid or something and the warning bears repeating. “I once saw a man—”

“
You think I'm afraid of getting bitten?” I chuff and shake my head at them both. “If you actually knew how many times I've come close to being bitten. Hell, I was bitten just an hour ago.”

Ben's head swivels and he stares hard at me. Casey gasps, his eyes growing wide.

“
Right here on my leg. Want to see?” I start to undo my pants. I can see the conflict in Casey's eyes, the blush on his cheeks. Ben watches with renewed fascination.

“
Don't,” Casey says, stopping me.

“
Aw, let the girl show us.”

“
Never mind,” I mumble. “It didn't break the skin anyway. I won't go infecting anyone. Not today.”

Casey exhales noisily. “Let me fix that bandage. Please, ma'am.”

“
Don't call me ma'am.”

“
Well, you won't tell us your name.”

“
Why should I? Why should I trust you? You say you don't know who I am, well, the same goes for me. I don't know who you are.”

Ben lets go of the faded curtain and lets it falls back against the window. The gloom deepens. “Casey, whyn't you go see if there's somethin halfway edible in the pantry? Me and the little lady need a little privacy.”

Casey hesitates a moment, then leaves.

I watch Ben walk over to me. I can feel my skin prickling. Once more I'm surprised by how catlike his movements are. “Have a seat,” he tells me.

“
You have a seat.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Fine. Stand if you want, but I can't let you leave. Not with them things out there just itchin to chew you up.”

“
What's it to you if they do?”

His eyes narrow. “Because I haven't figured you out yet.”

“
So? Why does that matter?”

“
Before, I was thinkin you were a Left-Behind. One of the Forgotten.”

Understanding comes over me. He's talking about the survivors of the outbreak, the ones who didn't make it out. “What if I am?”

“
What if you're not?”

“
I can still take care of myself.”

“
And you still ain't leavin.”

“
But—”

“
Consider it a strong suggestion,” he says, and he rests Casey's rifle against his shoulder, angling it toward the ceiling. He doesn't point it at me, but the implication is clear. His ‘suggestion' is anything but.

I drop my pack against the wall by the door and walk stiffly toward the center of the room. His dark blue eyes don't follow me at first. They dwell a moment on the bundle, worrying me. I can see him wondering what's inside. But they eventually turn away.

He crosses the room behind me and settles onto the couch, keeping himself between me and the door. “How long you been out here alone?” he finally asks.

But I don't intend to give him answers. Not without getting some of my own first. “You first. Are you with Arc?”

I actually have my doubts they're with the company. There have already been a few subtle hints—like the fact that he has no clue who I am. The biggest hint is that hole in the wall out there. I doubt very much that Arc would've sanctioned something like that. So it's not surprising when he laughs disdainfully at the suggestion.

“
Arc? Naw, honey, we ain't with those folks. We're actually here on a different purpose.”

“
What do you mean?”

But he doesn't answer.

“
Are you with the government?”

This seems to startle him. Something ripples across his face before that mask covers it up again, and now I realize why he seems so familiar. He has the same stoic affect that Grandpa has, only not as well controlled.

“
Ain't with the New Merican government, no.”

I want to ask him if he's knows about Father Heall, but something stops me. Although he seems to share the same contempt for Arc that Heall does, there's one glaring difference between the two men: Ben very obviously has no sympathy for the Undead, only contempt.

“
What purpose then?” I ask.

“
Naw, honey. You had your go. Now it's my turn. How bout you tell me a little bout yourself. Where you come from, what's your name. See, that's how this little game is played.”

I don't answer right away, and when I do, it's with a lie. I know it's risky, but the truth is even more risky. The Daniels name isn't welcome in many circles. “Lana,” I tell him. “Lana Ryan.” It's my mother's given name.

Ben tilts his head, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn't so hard now, was it, Lana. That's a fine start. Fine start indeed. And how long you been out here on your own?”

“
Almost my whole entire life.”

He stares hard at me, trying to ascertain if I'm telling the truth.

There is certainly truth in how I answered. I've been pretty much on my own since Dad died.

“
Where do you live?”

“
My turn,” I tell him.

He chuckles. “Better make it a good one, then. Think carefully.”

I don't have to think. “What are you and Casey doing here on the island?”

He doesn't answer right away. “I guess you could call it a mission,” he says, “a search and rescue mission. We're looking for someone.”

“
Who? A Volunteer?”

“
A what?”

“
Volunteer, someone who offers himself up for money—a lot of money—to become a Player in
The Game
.”

“
I thought that was illegal.”

“
Everyone knows it still happens.”

He chews on his grass, spits a piece onto the floor. “Then, yes, we're lookin for a Volunteer.”

“
What are you going to do once you find him? You can't take him back with you.”

“
Don't you worry about that, honey.”

“
Maybe I could help.”

What the fuck, Jess?
my mind screams in protest.
What are you doing?

He smiles. “Perhaps. How well do you know the eastern part of the island?”

“
You won't find any Volunteers outside the wall. Well, maybe now you might. Did one escape?”

“
You could say that.”

“
Why? They're supposed to be controlled. What happened to his Operator?”

“
His what?”

Alarm bells.

“
Why did you knock part of the wall down?”

“
There was already a hole from the water.” He smiles then and adds, “It did make a nice big boom. Course, it also drew a shit-load of them walkin corpses.”

“
Who's this Player you're looking for?”

But Casey walks in right then and the question gets forgotten when the pile of cans he's balancing in his arms avalanche onto the floor. He hurries to pick them up while Ben viciously hurls names at him. When he's retrieved the cans, he says, “There's stew, beans—”

“
Refried?” Ben interrupts.

“
String. And a can of pears.” He frowns at the label on another can. “Nacho cheese.”

“
Ain't never been a fan of stew myself,” Ben says, “but a person's got to eat, right? Got to nourish hisself, right? How many you got? Two? Give one to the girl. She looks like she could use a solid meal.”

Casey hands a can and spoon to Ben, who inspects the label before reaching into a pocket and extracting a pocketknife. He finds the can opening tool and proceeds to cut the lid off.

“
Are you hungry?” Casey asks me. “There's one more.” He looks longingly at it before holding it out to me.

I make a face. “I'm not hungry. My head's killing me.”

He shakes his head guiltily. “I got something that'll help. It's strong.” He drops the remaining cans onto the couch. They send up a puff of dust and Ben frowns.

“
It won't put me to sleep will it?” I ask Casey.

“
Naw, nothing like that.” He pulls a small medical kit out of his pack and opens it up and taps out a small white tablet. “It's just for pain.”

Ben watches all this with amusement and disdain. “You're wastin your medicine, Case. She's half wild as it is, probably got some herbal remedy or something she can whip up.”

“
I'm not half wild,” I tell him. As if to make my point, I kick his feet off the coffee table. “I've apparently got more manners than you do, anyway.”

He shrugs and lifts his feet back up, daring me to kick them off again. When I don't, he smiles and digs into his cold Dinty Moore, scraping a brown and white layer of congealed fat off the top and flinging it against the wall. My stomach does a flip.

“
Sure you ain't hungry?” Casey asks, holding out a different can. It looks like it might be the pears.

I walk back over to my pack, feeling Ben's eyes on my back. When I get there, I make sure he can see everything I'm doing so he doesn't get nervous and want to inspect what else I might have. His eyes flick to the rifle next to him but he doesn't reach for it.

“
Just getting some water to wash the pill down, okay?”

He watches me until I'm done, then asks, “What else you got in that there bag, little lady?”

“
Tampons. Why? You need one? Because I have plenty.”

Casey's face turns bright red, but Ben starts laughing again, a loud, sharp barking thing that makes my eardrums hurt. It feels strange to me to talk like this to a total stranger. Sarcasm and shock value were always Ash's forte. Now, though, I think I'm beginning to understand why she does it. It makes me feel a little braver in the face of someone like Ben.

“
Girl's got spirit, don't she, Casey?
Hoo wee!
”

Casey goes over to the window and looks out. “Rain's stopped,” he says, changing the subject. He stands there for a moment and peers out, slowly shaking his head. “And they've all gone, Ben, all them walking corpses.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that.”

“
So I can leave.”

Ben's hand slides over to the rifle. “No. You can't.”

 

Ben finishes his stew
and throws the empty can into the corner. It hits the wall and clatters to the floor, spraying little brown chunks everywhere. I get this feeling of déjà vu, an image of Reggie and Ashley sitting on the couch in Micah's basement and Reggie throwing his empty Red Bull can into the recycle bin. Or trying to, anyway. He was never that accurate.

But there's no recycle bin here. And Ben is nothing at all like Reggie. Somehow I think he possesses both power and precision.

All of a sudden I wish I was back in that basement. I wish we were back talking about breaking in, because I'd stand up and tell them no, that it's a very bad idea. I'd make them listen to me.

But I can't, of course. It's too late for that. It's too late for anything but regrets.

“
Now
we can go,” Ben announces, making me jump when his feet hit the floor. He stands up and stretches. “Enough dawdlin.”

“
What we gonna do about her?” Casey asks.

“
She's coming with us. She's goin to help us find our…Volunteer.”

“
She knows where he—”

Ben cuffs him across the mouth.

“
He who?” I ask, thinking of Micah.

Ben ignores me. “Better shut that yap of yours, Case, else I'll staple it up myself.”

“
Look,” I tell them. “I'd love to help, but I have to be somewhere soon.”

“
You're comin with us.”

“
I could help afterwa—”

“
Now.”

I can see there's no sense to arguing. “How am I supposed to help you if you don't tell me anything?”

Ben's face grows serious. “I actually don't need your need, Lana. I just want to make sure you ain't gonna want to circle around and ambush us.”

“
Why the hell would I do that? I don't even know you!”

“
I trust my instincts. And my instincts tell me you've been lyin.”

“
I'm not lying! I have to be somewhere.”

“
Oh, right, some important meeting? An interview for a job maybe?” He laughs. “Doctor's appointment?”

He walks over and gets in my face. He's maybe an inch or two taller than me and isn't really a big man, and yet he has presence. I feel small standing next to him, just like I always did standing next to my grandfather. But this time I don't back down. I stand my ground and stare right back at him. He pushes his nose right up to mine until I can smell the stew on his breath.

“
I need to get someplace, too,” he tells me. “I need to fetch the man I was sent to retrieve. And I don't intend for nothing to stop me, not some pansy-ass walking dead cannibalistical shitheads or some half-wild zombie-raised princess. If in fact, that is what you are. You got that?”

A million things cross my mind then. How I need to get away from them so I can get back to Jayne's Hill in time to save Jake. How there might not even be enough time left to save him, even now. And who Ben and Casey have come to find.