Sentries Box Set

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2Todd came to with the sun glaring in his eyes, a herd of bison thundering through his head, and the memory of Nick screaming for him morphing into another equally frightening sound.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back and pushed off the ground. He remembered being hit in the head a second time. That blow must have rendered him unconscious.

“Nick?” he croaked out. Todd wiped dried sweat and tears from his face and pulled his knees up far enough to grab the knife strapped to his calf. He staggered to his feet, stumbled across the few feet separating him and Nick, and dropped at Nick’s side. “Oh God, Nicky. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He slipped his knife through the bindings holding Nick’s closest arm and yanked up, slicing through. “They’re animals.” Nick slumped to one side, hanging by the arm still tied to the wagon wheel.

Having been fed nearly an entire bottle of moonshine whisky, Nick was out cold and doing exactly what Todd feared he’d do. He was vomiting. Todd slashed through the other bindings and pulled Nick into his arms and draped the young man over his knees, tipped sideways, making sure Nick’s airway was clear. The choking and gagging subsided, to be replaced by shivering and tiny noises coming from Nick’s throat that let Todd know he was in pure, raw pain. Nick’s body finally stopped shuddering and retching but he was giving off more heat than he should’ve been.

Leaning back on his knees, Todd wiped Nick’s face on his sleeve. They were alone. All the wagons except Todd’s were gone. When Nick’s breathing evened to normal, Todd took his hand and inspected the brands on his wrist.

The marks on each of Nick’s wrists were small, letters no more than half an inch long. TR. Todd’s initials, the traditional marks of ownership. He had no idea what had been rubbed into the raw, burnt skin but it would make the marks black when they healed. Todd took off his shirt and used the sleeve to wipe the wounds on Nick’s wrists as clean as possible. Blood, vomit, and dirt mixed with whatever the darkening substance was, smearing down Nick’s arms, no matter how hard Todd tried to get them clean. Even unconscious, Nick winced and trembled away.

“Shh…easy…shh.” Todd knew Nick probably wasn’t registering what he said, but Nick did calm when he laid one palm against the middle of Nick’s chest. “I’m sorry, buddy. I have to do this. I’m sorry.” Todd didn’t care how his voice cracked or his hands shook.

He looked at the brand on Nick’s chest. It was circular and a good three inches in diameter. An intricate pattern of rays from a central circle with a five-point pentagram overlaying a mariner’s star in the center was burned into Nick’s flesh. It was raw, and already red streaks of infection were beginning to spiderweb out from the branding point. This one wasn’t a traditional mark of ownership. It was something only sentries wore.

It was their badge, protection and identified them to the world as sentries. Todd’s had been tattooed onto his chest when he was twelve and already had years of training. It’d hurt like crazy and Todd still had a vivid memory of struggling to keep from crying. Branding had to be worse.

Barely dabbing at the larger brand caused Nick’s body to stiffen and arch away from Todd’s legs.

“Okay, okay.” Todd shoved his panic away. “I’ll get you help. You’ll be okay.”

Nick had just come to him after all the years of waiting. Todd hadn’t even begun to know Nick yet, and he sure wasn’t going to lose the young man now. Not like this. Not so soon. Most slaves wouldn’t be exposed to this treatment and would have their wrist brands applied with more care. They were after all valuable for their skills, education, and their upbringing didn’t come cheap. Not all became family members, and there were those who were treated unkindly, but they were rarely purposely killed by their owners.

Like sentry children being tattooed, branding sentry slaves in this manner was a sort of passage. Only the strong, those tough enough to take the pain, survive the abuse to their bodies and the fear invoked, were good enough to be entered into the ranks of sentries. No matter what talent they possessed or the cost of their upbringing, if they couldn’t pass this test they died, because no person who wasn’t a sentry wore this mark and lived to tell the tale.

Todd sat Nick up, then stood, hoisting Nick with him. Balancing the younger man against him, Todd staggered around their wagon and managed to get Nick into the back. After wrapping him in the warm blankets, Todd propped him on his side in case he started to vomit again. He hated leaving Nick alone in the back, but he had to drive, and there was no other way.

He stopped every hour or so and coaxed water into Nick. On the one hand, he was worried because Nick didn’t wake up much and did little more than mumble. On the other, he was grateful. The main road, an ancient one left from before the volcanic eruption was wider and smoother than the dirt road they traveled along now and allowed easier travel. Until they reached it, their progress was slower and anything but smooth. Had Nick been completely awake, Todd was sure the bouncing and jostling would have caused unbearable pain.

By the time they reached New Colorado City, dark was just skimming across the horizon. Nick had become restless, tossing and moaning with every turn of the wagon.

After bypassing his apartment building, Todd continued a few miles more to the home of a doctor, who’d treated him and other sentries in the past. Todd stopped the wagon in front of the doctor’s house and grabbed the larger branding iron. He was through the gate and bounding up the steps in less than a minute.

“Be home, be home,” he chanted as he pounded against the door. Next to it hung a sign reading “Warren Oberon, MD.”

The sound of footsteps and the face of Oberon in the door nearly made Todd collapse with relief.

“Ruger, what—” The man jerked away when Todd shoved his foot against the door and shook the iron in his face.

“They used this. They branded him with this! They held him down and forced a kid that had nothing but water to drink his entire life to drink half a bottle of their moonshine, and then they tied him down and used this on him!” Todd shook the branding iron again.

Blanching, Oberon’s eyes shifted from Todd’s face to the branding iron. “I’m sorry, but, Todd, you know I can’t treat a slave.”

“You have two slaves!”

“Isn’t it the same pattern as your tattoo? I thought you all had to wear it.”

“It’s the same symbol, but you were there when I was tattooed. This wasn’t branded into my skin with a hot iron! You gave me antibiotics. Nobody burned it into me!” Todd was shouting. He probably looked dangerous and irrational, and he didn’t care. “Nobody tied me to a wagon wheel and held me down while I was tattooed.”

“Todd,” Oberon said quietly, “you know I cannot treat a slave.”

Seeing one of Oberon’s slaves a few feet inside the door, Todd barked at her. “Sasha!”

The girl scurried to them and dropped to her knees at Oberon’s heels, hands folded in her lap, eyes down. “Sir?”

“How old are you?” Todd snapped.

“Twenty-four, sir.”

Shaking the branding iron at Oberon, Todd said, “Nick just turned twenty-two! Only last week I heard you say Sasha was a child, and Nick’s younger. What if someone did this to her?”

Leaning away from Todd, Oberon yanked the iron from his grasp. “I’m sorry. I understand how you feel, I do, but he’s not someone I can treat.”

“Yeah, not someone? What about those precious show dogs of yours? They’re not people. What if someone put one of these to them? How about that? Nick is a sentry, same as me.”

The color dropped from Oberon’s face. “Get in here!” He closed his fingers around Todd’s arm. “And stop shouting.” He nudged Sasha’s leg with his toe. She scooted back to allow them inside the entryway, and Oberon closed the door. “Does he have a fever?”

Todd gulped in short, harsh breaths. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he does. We were half a day away. I got him back here as fast as I could.”

Oberon wiped one hand over his mouth and set the branding iron in a corner near the door. “Sasha, you’ll go with Mr. Ruger and help him care for his slave. He’s been burned.”

“Me?” She looked up, clearly shocked.

Waving at her to stand up, Oberon said, “Yes, Sasha, you. I can’t. You know what to do, what medications to use and how to use them. You treat people every day; it’s no different than if I were there. Now, go gather what you’ll need.” He turned back to Todd. “I have midnight rounds at the hospital; that’s a bit more than three hours. I’ll need her for that and will pick her up on my way.” He turned back to Sasha. “If you have treatment questions, we’ll discuss them then.”

“Thank you.” Todd laid one shaking hand on Oberon’s.

A few minutes later, Sasha reappeared carrying a large tote bag. Oberon did a quick double check of her supplies, reassured them both Sasha could handle this, and sent them out the door. Sasha climbed into the back of the wagon with Nick, and Todd set the horses in motion, heading back to his apartment.

Todd was glad for Sasha’s help getting Nick into the supply elevator. They were crowded together and his arms felt like noodles after operating the pulley system to get them up the three floors in record time to the apartment they’d share. It was damn easier than carrying Nick up three flights of stairs. While Sasha prepared to treat Nick, Todd stripped him down to his boxer shorts and got the damaged skin where he’d been branded, and then the rest of him, properly cleaned. He caught a glimpse of Sasha watching as he patted Nick’s arms and chest dry. Lastly, he removed Nick’s collar and placed it on the kitchen table. It wouldn’t be needed until they ventured out into the city.

She blushed and looked away, but Todd saw the small smile on her face anyway. When he stood, moving so she could apply medication, she got her first good look at the brand on Nick’s chest. She flinched and jerked one hand to her mouth to cover a gasp, she stepped back. “I’m sorry, sir…I—”

“It’s okay. That was pretty much how I reacted, too.”

Sasha gave Nick two injections, explaining that one was for the infection and one would ease the pain. She gave Todd a small jar of greasy, unpleasant-smelling cream. “This needs to be put on morning and night. Clean the wound first, and put a new dressing on each time. It should be better in a week or so.” Then she handed Todd a beer-bottle-sized container.

“What’s this?”

“One of the tutors in my village was a horrible drunkard.” She pointed to the bottle in Todd’s hand. “That’s for the hangover.”

Todd burst out laughing, feeling for the first time Nick’s wounds would heal, that he would wake up and be okay. This certainly wasn’t how Todd had imagined their first night home would be.

Sasha took a long, slow look around the apartment. No doubt she noticed the small room Todd had prepared for Nick’s things. She confirmed it when she asked, “You did this for him?” Her gaze jumped from the room to the table in the small kitchen, where Todd had set out plates and utensils before leaving for his trip to Nick’s village.

Todd nodded.

Sasha seemed quite impressed. Glancing down at Nick, now sleeping fairly well in the middle of Todd’s large bed, she whispered, “He’s very lucky you’re his master.” She turned away, looking embarrassed. “There are still a couple of hours before my master will be here. Would you like me to bring your things up from your wagon and see to its storage and your horses’ care?”

“No, Sasha. Hell no. That stuff is too heavy for you. It’ll wait.”

“Sir, if you leave it there all night, you’re liable to not have it in the morning.” She pulled a chair closer to the bed. “I can sit here with him if you’d like? He should sleep for most of the night.”