Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 01

He had seen it all many times before. Life was cheap here, a slave's life even more so. Most who were brought back here to serve the will of their savage masters did not last long. They were worked hard, had little food, and even poorer shelter. If they did fall ill and could no longer be productive, usually they were killed fairly swiftly by the ruling hand. Often these kills were not clean either for the warriors loved the sport, and the hapless victim died slowly in excruciating misery.

There were at this time only eight slaves in the camp, Carlos included, not counting the nine or so new male captives, most of which would certainly be killed as sport in the ensuing hours. They sat miserably penned in the remains of an old cattle trailer near the main meeting cave.

The other six slaves were a hardy bunch, there was Lucy, big breasted and impossibly ample considering the lack of good nutrition. The men favored her and she did reasonably well for herself considering; for she was quite plain. She had lank, greasy, mousy brown hair that was always in her face, and hazel eyes. Her attitude for the most part was easy going, and she seemed to be the only one there who took any notice of the two feral children; who lived like wild animals hovering around the camp, which were in retrospect probably hers. She always seemed to have another baby on the way, mostly an exercise in futility, as all of them had only lived for a short amount of time, or presented dead at birth. Most of Lucy's day was taken up with the preparation of food, and the grinding of corn to make simple flat bread. A task that Raissa often helped her with.

Then there was Father Andrew, at least he claimed he was a priest before the war. He was a thin, spare man, with white hair that he liked to keep neatly cut when he could, dark eyes that bored into one's very soul, and an intense overzealous manner. Always preaching some passage from the bible. Even though he rarely opened the precious book he constantly carried containing the holy word, it seemed that he had remembered it by heart. Never missing an occasion to quote, or refer to God's good word. He was a lot older than the rest of the valley's occupants, and it really did seem amazing that he had managed to survive. Perhaps Carlos wondered, his Christian god had helped him after all.

Father Andrew spent all his days, along with Marcus his most loyal disciple, carting water to, and caring for the pathetic little scrap of soil that was the vegetable garden. It was difficult and thankless hot work, and was the only reason that the two men's lives had been spared, as this work was far too heavy for the women. The rest of his day was spent shepherding the small flock of hardy, multi colored goats, as they browsed the sparse, steep, rocky valley. This valuable little flock had on more than one occasion proven the group's salvation in lean times.

Marcus was a brute of a young man, big and solid, with the constitution of an ox. Every bit as powerful as one of Bennett's warriors. However for all that poor Marcus was simple, and his only place in this society was that of a beast of burden. So Father Andrew looked after him and they spent every dawn until dusk, laboring to grow what little they could.

Technically not a slave at all was Selene. Not that any knew her real name as she never spoke. This was merely a handle the men in the camp had bestowed on her, in the way one might give an affectionate name to a stray dog. Carlos shuddered just thinking about the misplaced girl. She was indeed a strange one. Though wild people had become common place since the anarchy, living on the fringes, stealing scraps, accepted yet not.

Oddly enough she had arrived here of her own volition a few years back. Not more than a girl then, wild and unkempt, and for all this time she had lived like a feral animal on the verges of the camp. She made her home in one the higher south facing caves. No one had ever been up there. Being fleet of foot and slight others found it too difficult to follow her, and gave up the pursuit in disgust. There she would be, ever hovering on the verges of the communal camp fire each cold evening, and something about her both fascinated, and repelled Carlos all at the same time.

Father Andrew predictably stated that she was the devil's child. "Spawn of Satan!" He would rant with accusing fury. As he struck her with stones to make her flee. However Lucy in her mothering way tried hard to gain Selene's confidence, leaving food and some ragged clothing for her whenever she could, though the latter she never wore. Bennett's men for the most part had thought no more of her than just good sport. Many a warrior tried his hardest to catch her. She was lithe and agile coupled with a she wolves cunning, managing to lead them all on a merry chase; eventually losing them in the labyrinth of small caves deep in the valley's northern rock face that she knew so intimately. As none could pursue her there, most quickly lost interest, and she continued to live on the verges of this little society vastly unmolested.

Selene was dark and petite, and even though she had to be at least sixteen summers, she appeared a child. Her long dark tresses, wild and unkempt reached almost to her knees, and her only covering was a mangy bit of animal skin tied about her slender waist with a leather sash. Tucked in to this sash she always carried a little pointed bone knife. Many a warrior had felt its sting, and the strangest thing was that always a nasty infection would ensue, sometimes laying the unlucky recipient low for many days. Her only other adornment was a crude amulet seemingly made of hardened mud, with the teeth of many small animals pressed into its uneven sides.

She would be there tonight just like every other night, in the shadows of the dancing flames, holding him in thrall with her hypnotic gaze. What did she want? Why did she not talk? Could she even if she wanted to?

It was coming in quite cold Carlos thought as he ducked inside the steel shipping container that he shared with Bennett, rummaging about in this tiny space for a warm fur against the cold. Clothes, he wished he had more clothes, perhaps there would be something Bennett would gift him from amongst the spoils from this last raid he grimly hoped. For soon he would have nothing to wear at all, but being only a slave his chances of getting anything good were at best slim. He must wait on his Lord's favor.

How quickly all the accouterments of modern life and mass production had begun to fade. The great war had been a good seven years ago, and as far as he could see there had been no real winners. The conflict had been brief and from what he could make out, the allies who were supposed to protect them had all turned; like rabid dogs, eager for the rich resources to be mined from this land. These conquerors required no cities or population, so they were nuked, total anarchy ensued, and forced the surviving inhabitants out into the more marginal environments beyond. Yes, Carlos though young remembered the chaos well, all the comforts lost, and despaired at what he had become in order to endure.

Looking about him he wondered if indeed he had done as well as could be expected in these bloody times? Let's face it he thought, he had more comfort and security than most, and as long as his Lord continued to prosper and be pleased with him, he would indeed be spared the worst. Guilt and revulsion overtook him then, and he slammed a fist down hard on to the table top making everything on its battered surface jump. How to get out! How! He wanted to scream, even Selene was freer than he, perhaps that was why she bothered him so, a mere girl mocking his inability to be a man. "How dare she." He muttered thickly under his breath, his anger rising, his strong body shaking with pent up frustration and loathing.

Suddenly it occurred to him with a start of fear, cooling his anger considerably, it was really beginning to get dark. He had been summoned and he had best make an appearance quickly, lest pain and privation follow. Even favored as he was he could still only get away with so much. Hurriedly he grabbed the fur which he had come for, creaking the rusty door closed behind him, and made haste toward the great cave that housed the community's hearth. Only stopping long enough to relieve himself in the dump on the encampment's eastern side.

The first bright stars were visible now, and a spectacular bloody sunset adorned the cloudless sky on the western horizon. Giving promise of yet another gruelingly hot day to come with dawn. The atmosphere was still, not a breath of breeze, and already Carlos was conscious of the warrior's talk, and the smell of food and wood smoke, as it carried across the still valley floor to him from the mouth of the cave beyond. Trying not to betray the sense of dread he felt, he walked as proudly as he could toward the mouth of the cave and the evening to come. Avoiding the contemptuous eyes of others, steeling himself to do as he was bid.

The cavern that formed the main living area for the tribe was immense and provided an excellent place for Bennett and his warriors to hold court. Rudimentary benches had been arranged around the central hearth, some covered in animal hides for added comfort, and here was where all the cooking was done by Lucy and Raissa.

Carlos felt the powerful grip of his Lord's hand in the waistband of his blue jeans as Bennett absentmindedly pulled him downwards to his usual place on the cave's floor, at his master's feet. At least he was warm here, unlike Father Andrew and Marcus who often shivered on the verges, hungrily eating any scraps they were lucky enough to have thrown their way. Tonight though they were nowhere to be seen, perhaps sensing the torture to come they had made themselves scarce.

Lucy and Raissa fared somewhat better and were allowed to share the fire's warmth once the meal was served. As long as they were quick to jump when a warrior's mug needed filling, and content to suffer the sometimes lewd comments and caresses that frequently came their way. They were happily tolerated.

Carlos could see Selene in the shadows at the front of the cave, along with the two feral boys hungry and patiently waiting. Her quick black eyes glittering, she was like some hellish vision through the drifting smoke. Her gaze bored into his as he dared look up, and he just had to look away.

Suddenly he realized just how hungry he was, as the smell of roasting meat assailed his senses, blotting out all else. Most of the warriors had already eaten their fill, but he would have to wait their pleasure. Unless of course Bennett might choose to give him something sooner, rather than later. The food here was simple fare, mostly goat, supplemented with any wild game that could be caught. There was flat corn bread, sometimes goat's cheese, and of course milk, though regrettably not in quantity. Vegetables and fruit were quite another matter, a few vegetables did grow despite the difficulty, poor sad things indeed, but fruit was something one only dreamed about, rarely if ever seen.

Bennett must have been feeling especially benevolent this evening Carlos realized, as a platter of food was pushed toward him. He did not hesitate to consume the delicious flesh like a hungry hound, and gorging the dry bread in great chunks which made swallowing quite painful. How soon there was no more, and he lingered long over the remaining bone, for there would be no more until this time tomorrow. That he knew as a certainty.

"So, do we go there then?" Questioned Sven. He was sitting the other side of Bennett, with his handsome younger brother Aran close by. "I'm sure that there must be something good there, too many have made mention of it?" For once Sven looked half contented, a tankard of alcohol clasped firmly in one scarred fist, and the other wandering over Raissa as she sat beside him.

"Yes, I agree there must be better pickings to the south, and I am convinced that a larger settlement exists there." Bennett replied, carefully choosing his words. Most of the warriors were listening he knew, and he also realized that the last raids had netted them only a few paltry supplies. The forays had been simple enough with no casualties, but in this last year things had got progressively meager and he knew that he needed a big victory, and many spoils to keep morale high amongst his men. Bennett being a wise leader could sense the malcontent in his warriors, and knew if he was to keep unity in his force, he had to come up with something to hold his men's interest soon.

Carlos felt the rough calloused hand he knew all too well idly caressing the muscles in his upper back and shoulders, and fondling his hair. He shivered, keeping his gaze low, face flushing hot with anger and his shame, lest any there should see. He knew in his own mind that he could be just as good a warrior as any here if only given the opportunity to prove himself. He was startlingly quick, good with a blade, and not bad with a hand gun either. He had owned one himself once he thought ruefully.

"I think it best if we do a bit more reconnaissance first, we need to know more, if this place is a big as the prisoners say it is. It will surely be well defended if that is the case?" Bennett added.

"Aye!" agreed his men.

"The day after tomorrow I will dispatch a reconnaissance patrol, however tomorrow night we shall have a feast, and find out all of what our prisoners know." As he said this he looked out into the dark in the direction of where the poor unfortunates were awaiting their gruesome fate. At this announcement the men gave a rousing cheer, raising their tankards for a toast.

"To our leader Bennett, and plunder aplenty!" They applauded thunderously. Yes, that's what his band needed, a bit of hope to spur them on, and surely greater things would follow soon he contemplated, as Bennett held out his cup for Lucy to fill.

"Drink." He ordered, proffering it to Carlos kneeling at his feet. Carlos took the cup quickly, he had learned long ago not to question the very dubious alcoholic beverages on offer. All the good stuff had been drunk way back, and these days anything containing alcohol at all was fair game. Occasionally raids on the nearby settlements had netted some reasonable brews. As none here possessed the knowledge or had any of the resources to make alcohol, they were entirely dependent on what they could take from others.

Well, better to drink and feel numbness, then the rest of tonight would not be so painful Carlos resigned himself, as he brought the battered mug to his lips, taking a long draught of the clear, vile brew. It burnt like fire all the way down, and made him feel even warmer than he already was. It went to work quickly, and in no time at all he felt very warm, and calm even. No longer was he aware of the warrior's sneering disdain, or Selene's relentless stare from the dark. Even Bennett's touch had ceased to be an issue, and the world and its worries seemed far away.

Bennett cast his fierce gaze over his party of rough but loyal followers. Many had by now consumed quite a bit of alcohol, and were very relaxed. Soon the four men he had posted would come in from their cold watch on the high valley tops. It was to be hoped that they would have nothing to report, but all knew that survival lay with vigilance, and watchers had to stay posted at all hours. Being leader he instinctively knew that many here tonight had wanted nothing more than to go immediately and raid this legendary place of riches so often hinted at. However none would dare gainsay him on the matter, but Bennett knew he would have to make a move soon to quell the discontent that he could feel growing by the day. Indeed they were all good men.

There was Sven with all his great experience and training, he was an extremely valuable asset. Bennett knew that he had been the backbone of all the training, and strategies they had developed over the years.

Sven's brother also Aran, who had proven himself a good and capable fighter, that mostly made wise decisions for himself and led others well on the battlefield, even if he had a weakness for the fairer sex that at times compromised his judgment.

Then there was the tattooed Gareth, older than the rest with an almost cheerful disposition, especially when he was killing. Bennett was sure that he had done some serious time. Though Gareth had never once admitted to it.

Not forgetting Renard, tall, slim, dark, and mysterious. He had been discovered wounded, and left for dead. Fortunately a routine patrol led by Sven had found him, and recognized that to kill him would have been a senseless waste. So he was brought back to camp where he made a speedy recovery, swearing allegiance to Bennett for saving his life, henceforth becoming a valuable addition to his force. He was indeed a superb marksman, easily the best here. He frequently helped make up the shortfall by always bagging game where others did not. There were many more as well, and all played their part, gathered together over the past few years, and forged into this unwholesome unit by necessity and hardship.

It was beginning to get late, and most of the men were either half asleep around the fire where most of them preferred to spend the night, or in small groups engaged in dice or conversation. Again Bennett's thoughts turned to the warm flesh that lie slumped, drunkenly, against his leg. So fortunate he was to live in such times when one just took who and what they wanted simply because they could. Yes, indeed he could never have gotten away with all this is in civilized society. However here he was a Lord with all the power of life and death, and that had suited him fine. How easily he had traded all the trappings and comforts of a consumer society for this life, and he had no regrets.

He recalled again that fateful day many years before, when they still had vehicles and trucks, with ammunition to burn, and the plunder was always good and plentiful. He guessed it had to have been six seasons ago. How much his captive had grown in that time, and what a fine prize he had become. As he languidly stroked Carlos's smooth tanned flesh. When he had first laid eyes on him he just knew. Never had he felt such strong desire before. Sure, there had been other boys, but always before too long they had seemed somehow broken and tarnished, and he had discarded them to their fates.

His much desired slave, well somehow Carlos was different. Try as he might he had never really broken him; that he knew. It was so alluring to Bennett to know that he had the power to get what he wanted, but there was always the exiting possibility that his captive would still resist, or try something inventive; and the trinket, now there was something really strange, that cursed gold ring. He never forgot the painful burns, and indeed still bore the scars. Why could he not take it? No one else that had tried could either. Yet Carlos seemed to be able to handle it with impunity.

Many times he had threatened and railed at him to tell him what it was, and its purpose. All the lad had kept saying was that it was his father's and that was all he knew. Bennett being a good judge of human nature had finally decided that really it must be all the young man knew and let it slide. Though still it troubled him, and he wondered often about the strange artifact.

It was late he realized and it had been a long hard trek, even if the resistance had been easily crushed, and the prizes pitifully few. He suddenly felt the need for the solitude of his cabin, and other more intimate pleasures. He could sense that Sven was having similar thoughts, and already he had noticed Gareth's departure with the ample Lucy in tow. There would be time aplenty tomorrow to divvy up the spoils and formulate new plans while they sat out the repressive heat of the day. Then they would all feast and drink their fill, finish off the prisoners and move on to new things.