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Back The Drowned Cities Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. PART TWO
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. Contents
  53. Copyright

“If we are pack, then conquest is our sustenance, sister.”

He plunged his hand into the coywolv’s frame. With a wet tearing, the heart came out, glistening and full of blood, veins and arteries torn. The muscle of life. Tool held it out to her. “Our enemies give us strength.”

Blood ran from his fist. Mahlia saw the challenge in the half-man’s eye.

She limped over to the battle-scarred monster and held out her hand. The heart was surprisingly heavy as Tool poured it into her palm. She lifted the muscle to her lips and bit deep.

Blood ran down her chin.

Tool nodded his approval.

image PART TWO image

THE
DROWNED
CITIES

26

MOUSE’S FACE BURNED, a constant reminder of his new associates: Slim and Gutty, Stork and Van. TamTam and Boots and Alil, and dozens more.

They stood around and laughed and pointed their guns at the prisoners where they lay flat on the ground with their hands on the backs of their heads, and every one of the soldiers carried the same burned brand on his cheek that Mouse carried on his own.

“You’re Glenn Stern’s now, warboy,” Gutty said, holding a pistol up to Mouse’s head. “Elite! Best of the best.”

Mouse held still, not sure what he was supposed to do. The barrel of the gun pressed behind his ear.

“Half-bar like you, there’s only one question…” Gutty went on. “Do you got what it takes?”

Mouse hesitated.

Gutty jammed the gun hard into his head, and Mouse finally understood.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes, what?” Again the pistol jab.

“Yes, I got what it takes?”

“Then say it!” Gutty shouted. “I want to hear my warboy say it proud!”

“I got it!”

“GOT WHAT?”

“I got what it takes!”

“WHAT?”

“I GOT WHAT IT TAKES!” Mouse shouted as loud as he could, sure Gutty was going to blow his brains out.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, SOLDIER!”

“I GOT WHAT IT TAKES!”

“YOU A SOLDIER?”

“YES!”

“YOU CALL ME SIR, HALF-BAR! YOU CALL ME SIR!”

“YES, SIR!”

“THAT’S RIGHT, HALF-BAR! SING IT OUT!”

“I GOT WHAT IT TAKES, SIR!”

Mouse was shouting so loud his voice cracked. Gutty started laughing, doubled over with hilarity. Some of the other warboys were laughing with him.

“Damn,” Gutty said. “You got what it takes, huh?”

Mouse wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, so he shouted again, “YES, SIR!”

Gutty slapped him upside the head, hard. “Shut up, maggot. You keep shouting like that, you’ll bring Army of God down on us, get us all killed.” He slapped Mouse again. “Now go get us some water. Fill our canteens.”

He tossed a bunch of plastic bottles over to Mouse, a big pile of them, all covered with pictures of Accelerated Age cars. One of them said MOTOR OIL on the side. A big yellow one read ANTIFREEZE.

“Move, soldier!”

Smoldering with fear and humiliation and adrenaline, Mouse gathered up all the bottles.