A Meeting of Souls – Installment #11
This is the eleventh installment of A Meeting of Souls – A Tale from the Wasteland. The read the story from the beginning, start here.
If you enjoy this story and would like to own a copy of your very own, you can purchase it from Amazon/Kindle here and Barnes & Noble/Nook here. The e-book includes a full-color cover and a special, steamy, NSFW bonus chapter at the end of the story that won’t be included on the blog. Every romance needs a “happy ending,” right?
Bud stood with his back to the Baja Bug, keeping watch while his partner fiddled around with the steering column, trying to start it. When he saw the man in charge of the slave camp leave his RV he tried to blend into the shadows, but when the boss started heading toward them, he nudged Arnie with his foot to get his attention.
“Evenin’,” Bud said, hoping he sounded nonchalant. Arnie hastily stood up next to him.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you stealing my Bug?”
“No, we … um, just need to borrow it for a quick trip.”
“You can’t take your own damn truck?”
“No, sir. One of the girls took off with it. I think that Guard helped her.”
“The Guard you assaulted.” The boss looked back and forth between the two men for a long moment. He’d never liked working with these two, and he’d been suspicious of their methods of acquiring new slaves for some time. This little development gave him the ammunition he needed to cut ties with them. “Get the fuck out of my camp—”
“We’re gonna take care of it—”
“—and don’t come back.”
Arnie started to protest, but thought better of it. The boss watched as the two men slunk off into the night. He wondered if it was too late to patch things up with the people running Wasteland City. He was a legitimate businessman, after all, and it would be a shame to lose his most lucrative market because of those two fools.
When he was sure they were out of earshot, Bud said, “Now what are we going to do?”
“We’re gonna borrow someone else’s ride and go after that bitch,” Arnie snarled.
“And then what? We can’t come back here.”
“I got a buyer lined up for the girl,” Arnie said, starting to double back toward the camp. “We cut the boss in, he’ll let us come back.” In their circles, flesh was just another commodity. There were people for whom “play slaves” weren’t good enough, people who’d pay plenty of caps for a young, pretty slave they could break themselves and they wouldn’t question or care whether or not she had been a willing volunteer. He just hoped the boss’s cut would be enough to cover the bribes he’d have to pay to let them operate in Wasteland City again.
“What about that Guard?”
“Desert’s a dangerous place. Shit happens all the time.”
They skirted the perimeter of the camp until Bud elbowed his partner, pointing out a small dune buggy parked behind one of the tents. “Grab that one,” he whispered.
Arnie smirked and hunched over the steering column while Bud stood watch. He knew Ol’ Rust Eye, the buggy’s owner, had plenty of vehicles. Even if they didn’t get back with the girl before he woke up, he probably wouldn’t even notice that his buggy was gone until after breakfast.