The Suicide King Volume 1 (The Fallocaust Series Book 3) by Quil Carter

Author:Quil Carter [Carter, Quil]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Masschaotic
Published: 2015-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Elish

Elish slowly woke up to the sound of a fly buzzing around him. It was faint at first but it became louder as he faded in and out of consciousness, and soon it was flying in circles around his body.

Then the buzzing stopped. Elish opened his eyes and saw the botfly on his folded up jacket, cleaning its wings and its antenna and skittering around the grey overcoat Elish had been using as a pillow. It flew back up into the air when Elish moved, and once again, the buzzing continued, sounding like a little race car driving in circles.

Elish squinted and sat up. He looked around the covered wagon he had fallen asleep in, until he spotted his bottle of wine, half-empty, but the rattling to his left reassured him that he had another crate waiting for him. Not only that, beside it was a smaller wooden crate with bottles of rum, painted black to conceal its contents from any curious greywaster.

Elish reached past it to the crate and grabbed a fresh bottle of vodka, then got up and jumped off of the cart.

“Good lord, James, vodka isn’t breakfast,” Robyn said, sounding exasperated. “Are you serious?”

Elish unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips, and at this, the leader of Broken Road Caravans chuckled. She reached a hand out as Elish swallowed down the burning liquid, and when he was finished, he handed the bottle to her.

Elish looked out at the road in front of him. He could see two mercenaries taking the lead, all of them with automatic rifles on their backs, ammo belts across their chests, and weapons tucked into holders on their waists. Behind them would be two more mercenaries, and Robyn’s son who hung around anyone who would tolerate his presence.

Elish retrieved his vodka and took another drink, before lightly tossing the bottle back into the bosen-pulled cart. He then grabbed himself a bottle of wine, tucked it underneath one arm, then lit himself a cigarette.

Ignoring Robyn shaking her head at him, he walked to the front of the caravan to see what lay ahead.

Though he wasn’t expecting to see anything new. The greywastes rarely changed, and the only thing interesting that broke up the many different shades of grey were the occasional crucified corpse, green and bloated, or spray-painted buildings which would mean a hard turn in the opposite direction to sneak past the cluster of ravers living inside.

Sometimes he hoped for the ravers to find them, just so he could see if any of them were Jade’s, but he didn’t wish for the caravan to be overrun and destroyed. Travelling with the caravan meant he could get drunk and high and still make good time. If he was travelling alone, by three o’clock he would be stumbling around, and after that he’d be lucky to make two miles before he passed out on the side of the road.

He was in the North now, taking the same road that he and Reaver had taken on their way to Mantis.

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