Page 92 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

Einar smiled, but it was a slight, icy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. A nasty smile he got sometimes before killing a particularly repulsive fury. A smile that used to make me afraid of him. And I knew then that he had us all exactly where he had wanted us, no less than if he had caught us in a cage.

“You would be right, of course,” he spoke quietly, “if I were suggesting marching on them as they are now. But that’s not my plan at all.”

Everyone fell silent once more, pondering his words in confusion. But then a powerful shiver ran through my spine as I grasped his meaning. Dread began crawling up inside me.

“You mean to infect them,” I said with a degree of certainty that prevented me from making it sound like a question. “You want to turn them first.”

There was more silence, but its nature shifted from baffled to stunned. Einar looked directly at me, nodding imperceptibly. It took me a while to remember to breathe again, and in the meantime, I had enough time to get over my initial horror and consider the suggestion from a more practical standpoint.

“Infected can’t shoot,” I pondered out loud. “When these thugs threatened Monika and me last September, they said there were fifty of them. As much as we can’t take on fifty armed men in a fortress, fifty roamers are easy ...”

“Exactly.”

Einar smiled at me proudly, and I smiled back, even though I felt a little resentful, like a little girl who had been tricked into reciting a poem for the adults.

Albert sat back down, the soft armchair depressing under his weight, his mouth hanging open. I realised that sweat ran down the crevice between my breasts, but I couldn’t tell whether its cause was the heat rising from the fireplace or the conversation we were having.

“You do realise there are innocent people there too? The women they kidnapped?” Jean-Luc asked, breathless from agitation.

“Collateral damage.” Einar shrugged.

“Even if I put aside the moral considerations of this hideous suggestion,” Jean-Luc said, “just how do you plan to infect them?”

That was a good question and one I could not possibly phantom the answer to.

“Well, we know that the infection can spread through bodily fluids, including saliva. And we know that Lena’s planning to go to Bonifacio anyway, to give herself up to them?—”

“Och no, I can already see where yer goin’ with this,” Russ groaned.

“She can smuggle in a few vials. Well, hopefully. And later, with luck, she’ll have a chance to contaminate their food, bottles, anything. Or she can rub it, uhm, on herself before they inevitably rape her ... she is immune after all.”

I groaned as well. What a thoroughly repulsive thought. And yet I didn’t doubt for a second that Lena would agree to it readily if it gave her the slightest possibility of getting Emma out of Bonifacio.

“That’s a lot of uncertainty, man,” Albert remarked demurely, gingerly massaging his bruised neck.

“Oh yes ... a lot of risks, especially for Lena. And for us too, if they catch her and make her talk.” Towering over us rather like a preacher at his pulpit, Einar smiled coldly. “But the gains to be had if it goes right are enormous. Not only would we get rid of the bikers, the menace that they represent. We would also inherit their weapons, their stores of petrol and their very strategic fortress ...”

I gasped.

“We could withstand the swarms!”

Everyone’s eyes went wide at this. For anyone who had seen the nightmarish anthill of a thousand infected bodies ready to rush and destroy, this was an irresistibly tempting proposition. Einar’s eyes gleamed approvingly like metal in sunlight. Seemingly without effort, he got me to play my part well without ever discussing with me what said part entailed.

“Not only that, Ren,” the leader with a crown of ash and gold spoke, with a commanding sneer. “If those bastards weren’tlying about their equipment, then with some careful planning, we may be able toeradicatethe swarms.”

“You know.” I exhaled tremendously with a sigh. “I used to be scared of you. Today I remembered why.”

I wrapped my arms around Einar’s bare shoulders, pressing the side of my face against his, feeling the scratch of his stubble.

“Oh? And here I was, thinking how cocky you were getting.” He gave my neck a gentle bite. “Demanding that I shag you right here in the bloody kitchen of all places ...”

I was presently perched on the wooden countertop, balancing precariously at the edge of it. Our encounter was finished, but Einar was still inside me. I could feel him revive with our embrace and encouraged him by sliding closer to him, my breasts flattening against his chest.

“I don’t recall you objecting in any way.”

“I didn’t get a chance. You were quite pushy about it.”

He kissed me on the lips. Lifting me off the counter, his hands slid under my thighs, and he carried me effortlessly.