Tokens (After The Purge: Vendetta, Book 2) Read online

  Tokens

  Copyright © 2018 by Sam Sisavath

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Road to Babylon Media LLC

  www.roadtobabylon.com

  Edited by Jennifer Jensen & Wendy Chan

  Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

  Contents

  Books in the After the Purge Series

  Also by Sam Sisavath

  About Tokens (Vendetta Part 2)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  A Word From the Author

  Books in the After the Purge Series

  The “Vendetta” Storyline

  Requiem

  Tokens

  Remains

  Also by Sam Sisavath

  The Purge of Babylon Post-Apocalyptic Series

  The Purge of Babylon: A Novel of Survival

  The Gates of Byzantium

  The Stones of Angkor

  The Walls of Lemuria Collection (Keo Prequel)

  The Fires of Atlantis

  The Ashes of Pompeii

  The Isles of Elysium

  The Spears of Laconia

  The Horns of Avalon

  The Bones of Valhalla

  Mason’s War (A Purge of Babylon Story)

  The Road to Babylon Post-Apocalyptic Series

  Glory Box

  Bombtrack

  Rooster

  Devil’s Haircut

  The Allie Krycek Vigilante Series

  Hunter/Prey

  Saint/Sinner

  Finders/Keepers

  The Red Sky Conspiracy Series

  Most Wanted

  The Devil You Know

  About Tokens (Vendetta Part 2)

  TRAVEL THE POST-PURGE ROADS AT YOUR OWN RISK.

  Despite the odds being stacked against her, Ana has saved her little sister, and now all that remains is to return home. Except she can’t do that just yet, because Wash—the man who helped her every step of the way—is still out there, chasing a grudge that will likely end with him dead.

  With her sister safe, Ana goes in search of Wash, determined to help him whether he wants it or not. But the road to Wash is filled with clear and hidden dangers, where good and bad guys aren’t so easy to tell apart.

  A post-Purge world is no place for a man to travel alone, much less a woman. It’s a good thing that Ana is used to being underestimated. But even she will find her resolve tested—and her survival instincts stretched to the max.

  Tokens is the second book in the After The Purge: Vendetta storyline, set in a dangerous post-apocalyptic world where Man has begun to reassert itself as the most dangerous species.

  One

  At first she only thought about killing the man, but was dead certain she was going to do it by the time they sat down for dinner.

  Two large smallmouth bass, steam still rising from their gutted stomachs, and two bowls of salad from the family’s garden were spread out before her. The mother was putting a generous portion of greens on Ana’s plate, while Ana herself looked across the table at the man she was going to kill, deciding the neck would be the best place to strike. It would be quick and efficient, if a little bloody.

  You don’t have to do this, a voice from somewhere in the back of her mind said. They’re not Emily.

  She ignored the voice and thought about the blood. She wished there wasn’t always so much blood, but there was no way around that part. And there should be a lot of blood when you took someone’s life, she thought. The finality of it—the taking away of everything they had and everything they would ever have—shouldn’t be clean and easy. It should leave a lasting impact. On them, on those around them, and on her.

  So be it.

  He was smiling at her as his wife scooped another large helping of salad and placed it on one of their children’s plates. The man, Mark, had introduced the girls—two of them—as his, but Ana had her doubts. The Purge made a lot of kids orphans, and both girls were too old to have been born after the monsters slithered back into the shadows in the wake of The Walk Out. The one girl sitting to Ana’s right was about thirteen, and the one to her left was around ten. Besides, they looked nothing like their “dad,” or their “mother,” for that matter.

  The woman’s name was Sarah, and she smiled the entire time she went around the long—a little too long, actually—table spooning salads onto their plates. She looked happy, and there was noticeable energy in her step. She’d mentioned earlier that she missed having an adult woman to talk to, that it had been a while since they’d had company.

  “Nebraska is so far away,” Sarah was saying as she circled back to Mark’s plate. “And you rode all the way down here by yourself?”

  “I wasn’t always by myself,” Ana said.

  “That’s right. You said you were looking for someone. What was his name again?”

  “Wash.”

  “Wash. What a strange name.”

  “It’s short for Washington.”

  “Oh, of course. I was just thinking it might be short for Washington.”

  Sarah put the bowl down and took her seat between her husband and Carol, the thirteen-something-year-old. Mark had insisted Ana take the chair across from him as their guest of honor. Sarah had agreed almost right away. Sarah seemed to agree very readily to all of Mark’s suggestions.

  Candlelight flickered between them, and Ana could just barely make out Kerry’s face to the right of her. The ten-something-year-old sat almost perfectly in the middle between Ana and her father, and directly across from Carol. Neither girls had looked in Ana’s direction since they sat down to eat, which was a lot different than earlier today when Ana first stumbled across them. She would have ridden her horse right past the place if she hadn’t heard laughter coming from the stream nearby where the two girls were washing clothes and bathing.

  She didn’t see any hints of those two carefree girls sitting between her and Mark now. They hardly looked like they were even there.

  The only man in the room picked up his fork and beamed across the table at Ana. “You like fish?”

  “I love fish,” Ana said. “Especially when they’re bigger than my thigh.”

  Mark chuckled. “They grow big around here. But I’m guessing they grow big everywhere else now, too. Not many people left to fish them. Which is good news for us. Even after Sarah here gets too old to tend that garden of hers, we’ll always have fish.”

  “I’m not that old, sweetheart,” Sarah said.

  “No, but you’re getting there,” Mark said, and reached over and pinched his wife on the arm.

  Sarah smiled back at him. Or made an effort to.

  The t
ruth was, Sarah wasn’t that much older than Ana. The woman was either thirty or in her late twenties, even if she did look older. But then The Purge aged everyone, and people would say Ana herself looked older than her twenty-five years. Which was another reason Ana didn’t buy that Carol and Kerry were Sarah’s. They could very well be Mark’s, though, given his possible age range—early forties, maybe mid-forties?—but she didn’t think so. The man just didn’t look like a father.

  Ana picked at white meat from the bass in front of her with a fork. The utensil was long and sharp and made of sterling silver; it was perfect for killing ghouls and would work just as well for killing men. It looked huge in her hand but comically small—almost like a plastic toy—clutched in Mark’s sausage-like fingers. The man was big.

  Maybe too big, the voice in the back of her mind said.

  No one’s ever too big, Ana thought.

  Are you sure about that?

  “Mi casa es su casa,” Mark was saying as he wolfed down a healthy piece of fish. “Eat up. You’ll need the strength if you’re going to keep chasing after this Wash guy. Who is he, by the way?”

  “He’s a friend,” Ana said.

  “Just a friend?”

  “Just a friend.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Mark said.

  I don’t care what you believe, she thought, but smiled and said, “He’s just a friend.”

  The bass had looked appetizing earlier but revealed a slightly undercooked pinkish belly when a chunk of meat was finally on her plate. Of course, it could have been the low lights from the candles on the table and along the walls. She had a feeling Mark’s family didn’t waste too many candles on themselves but had done so tonight because of her.

  Mark and his “family” lived in a cottage with two bedrooms in the back—one for the girls and one for him and Sarah. The dining room was part of the kitchen, with a great room behind Ana. Nightfall had brought down wooden blocks over the windows, along with two heavy bars placed over the thick door. All the extra security meant little natural lighting inside the building, and they were dining by candlelight as a result.

  “So why’s he running away from you?” Mark was asking her. “A pretty thing like you.”

  She poked at the fish and put some of it in her mouth and made the effort to swallow it down. “He’s not. Running away from me.”

  “But you’re chasing him.”

  “I’m looking for him.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “It depends on how you look at it.”

  “Sounds a little complicated, that’s all,” Mark said, before spearing himself another big chunk of fish. “What’s the matter? Fish not good?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “But you’re not eating.”

  “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

  Mark grunted. “It’s a little gamey, isn’t it? She didn’t clean it thoroughly enough.” He glared at Sarah even as he talked to Ana. “When we first met, she couldn’t even gut a fish. I had to teach her. I taught all three of them how to cook and fish and even wash clothes. Can you believe that? They didn’t even know how to wash clothes without machines.”

  “But you did?” Ana asked.

  “I learned when I was a kid. You had to, living out here.”

  “You’ve lived out here before? Even before everything?”

  Mark nodded and refocused his attention on her. Ana preferred that, if just to spare Sarah that awful judgmental gaze of his. The girls hadn’t glanced up once from their food. She could sense the fear coming from them.

  And the question she’d been asking herself, ever since she spied the girls at the stream: “What if one of them was Emily?”

  It’s not always about Emily, the voice in the back of her mind said.

  “That’s how I survived,” Mark was saying. “I found this place five years ago during that whole mess. I fixed it up, made it respectable. They tried to get in more than once over the years, let me tell you, but they never got in. I could have kept going out here for decades, even if that whole Walk Out thing never happened.”

  “You mean you, Sarah, and the girls could have kept going out here for decades,” Ana said.

  Mark nodded and speared another chunk of fish meat. “That’s what I meant.” Then, without missing a beat, “You should take a break from the road. You look tired.”

  “Do I?”

  “I think so. What do you think, Sarah?”

  Sarah looked across the table and pursed her lips. “Yes, I think so, too.”

  “See?” Mark said.

  “What do the girls think?” Ana asked.

  But the girls said nothing. If they had even heard Ana ask the question in the first place. Neither one looked up from their plates of salad. Ana wondered if they’d eaten any kind of meat recently, given how thin they both looked. All three women, in fact, were slightly undernourished, but the girls in particular. She had noticed it right away when she stumbled across them in the stream while they were half-naked.

  “They don’t talk much,” Mark said to her. “We don’t get a lot of guests out here, so they haven’t had much practice.”

  “You’re their father?” Ana asked.

  “Of course,” Mark said, and smiled. “Why would you ask that?”

  Ana shrugged. “I’ve met a lot of impromptu families since The Purge. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Who says there was?”

  “Do you have family?” Sarah asked.

  “A sister,” Ana said.

  “Does she know you’re out here chasing after a guy?” Mark asked.

  Ana narrowed her eyes at him. He flashed her a mischievous grin in return, a clear indication he had gotten what he wanted.

  “Yes, she does,” Ana said.

  “How does she feel about that?” Mark asked.

  “She’s fine with it.”

  “Is she?”

  “I’m her big sister. She knows I wouldn’t do something stupid, like chase after a guy.”

  “And yet here you are…”

  “Looking for someone. There’s a big difference.”

  “Is there?”

  “Yes.”

  Mark made a half-hearted shrug before leaning forward and going for another generous portion of fish. “If you say so.”

  “What about you?” Ana asked.

  “What about me?” Mark said as he slipped the bass into his mouth and sucked on the fork a little longer than necessary while pulling it back out.

  “You have family out there?”

  “Out there? Nope. Just what you see here.”

  “But they’re not really your family, are they?”

  One of Mark’s eyebrows lifted at about the same time Sarah stiffened to his right. Carol, sitting next to Sarah, also froze while in mid-reach for her plate. Ana couldn’t tell if Kerry had reacted, because her eyes were glued to Mark and the left side of the table.

  “What did you just say?” Mark asked. He lowered his fork to the table, but his fingers were clutching its long handle as if it were a knife.

  “You heard me,” Ana said.

  “I already told you—”

  “Bullshit. I know Sarah’s not your wife. Not that there’s anything wrong with two people living together. But this isn’t that, is it? Sarah doesn’t want to be here. Neither do the girls. At least, not with you.”

  Mark’s eyes shifted from Ana to Sarah, the unspoken question on his face clear as day (“What did you tell her?”) before moving to Carol, and finally over to Kerry.

  This time, Ana was able to watch Kerry’s reaction. The girl had put down her fork and slipped both hands down to her lap. Her eyes had never wavered from the white cloth that covered the long, rectangular table.

  “I saw their bruises when they were bathing in the stream,” Ana said as she stared across at Mark. “I saw the old scars that haven’t healed. The kind you don’t get from falling out of bed or working around a garden. The kind someone has
to put on you. Deliberately. Over and over. Did you do that, Mark? You put those bruises on these girls? Am I going to find them on Sarah, too?”

  Sarah quickly glanced over at Mark, who held his hand up to silence her.

  “I took you in and gave you a place at my table,” Mark said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Ana. “And this is how you thank me?”

  Ana could barely contain her smirk. “I’ve met plenty of guys like you, Mark. You don’t do anything from the kindness of your heart. You let me in because you wanted something from me. You probably think you’re charming, too. Can I be honest? You’re not.” She smiled. “You’re not even close to charming. We’re talking about a Grand Canyon-size difference between where you think you are and where you actually are.”

  Mark stood up from his chair. “Get out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get out of my house.”

  “What happened to mi casa es su casa?”

  “That ship’s sailed, darling.”

  But Ana didn’t get up from her chair. Instead, she leaned back and continued to look across the table at Mark. “I don’t think I will.”

  “What?”

  Ana almost laughed at the expression on his face. He wasn’t expecting that reply, apparently.

  “I said, I don’t think I’ll leave,” Ana said. “At least, not until morning. It’s dark out there. Bad things happen to people at night.”

  “That’s not my fucking problem,” Mark said. He pushed his chair back and began walking around the table.

  Kerry physically shrank as he walked past her. Sarah and Carol remained seated, but both women were looking from Mark to Ana and back again. Ana couldn’t be sure what she was seeing on their faces.