Chapter 90: The Shadow of Death

Mick and his men had followed their route to the end. Ever since the death of Marcus and his crew, he had been extra careful in how he performed his daily routes to the tributaries that kept their federation functional .

He knew they were being tracked, being followed, and being watched. He just couldn’t see them. He often saw himself looking over his shoulder when things were too still, or when there was too much momentum.

He wasn’t the only one, several of the captains had evolved a similar sense of paranoia. This never ending feeling that someone was always near, watching, waiting and preparing to strike.

But they couldn’t allow themselves to project a fear of the dark, such a thing would be their undoing. Because of this Mick revved the engine of his snowmobile as he and his men headed back to next tributary on their list for daily plunder.

Today the storm was at the thickest it had been since the long winter began. He could barely see a few meters in front of him. Snow pelted him with such ferocity it felt like a sting of bees trying to force its way through his thick winter clothing.

The men who rode behind Mick tried their best to keep up with his pace, but he was moving unusually aggressively. With one of them trying his best to get his attention.

“Boss! Hold up! You’re getting too far ahead!”

But Mick’s thoughts were elsewhere, and the violent howls of the wind drowned out the noise just enough for him to ignore it entirely.

And that was when he saw it. From the corner of his eye, in the eye of the storm, a man standing in the snow…

Now… that wasn’t right, a specter of the storm. All he saw was a skull floating in the storm, staring at him as he passed it by.

A second later Mick stopped his vehicle, and turned around, raising his rifle in the direction of the apparition he had just passed by. But there was nothing to be seen.

His breathing became ragged and sharp, as his eyes darted beneath his goggles, left, right, center, up, and down.

It was not until the roar of his followers and their snowmobiles brought him back to reality that Mick finally moved.

His pivot was sharp, and sudden, pointing his rifle in panic at his own men. Who were quick to raise their hands and shout.

“Woah! Stop! Mick, it’s us!”

Mick suddenly realized he was pointing his weapon at his own men, finger on the trigger just about to send a round into one of their chests. And when he understood this, he dropped his rifle, the sling catching it snugly against his chest all while he sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry… I thought I saw something in the storm… It was just my mind playing tricks on me… Let’s go.”

He drove off ahead of his men once more. Who simply looked at one another in confusion, shrugging their shoulders before following after their captain.

The tracks they left behind were quickly buried by the storm. Then and only then did Zach stand up again, pulling the camouflage veil handing from his winter ghillie hood to reveal the Skull Balaclava beneath it.

One of his men walked down the hill he was sitting at the bottom at, and approached his side.

“You know that was incredibly stupid, right? What if they opened fire on you?”

Zach’s voice was cold and still. Almost like the entity whose face was plastered on his balaclava.

“It was a risk worth taking… They’re already terrified… you can tell by the way they grip their throttle. Making them believe that death is literally stalking them is an effective weapon in and of itself. Besides, the storm covered me perfectly, all he saw was a floating skull, and that should be enough.”

Only the cold whipping of the wind could be heard between the two men.

—

Mick could not get over what he had seen. No matter how he tried to reconcile it within his own mind he had seen it. The face of death staring at him, floating amidst the snow.

But what could it have been? An omen? He never considered himself a superstitious man until now. But he could think of nothing else.

It didn’t matter, he and his crew arrived at the destination not long after. And immediately the local sentries opened the makeshift gates they had erected around the stacked cars, long since frozen over, that now acted as a barrier to prevent outsiders from coming in.

After all, the bandits didn’t want their tributaries being raided by anyone else. It was in a way a protection racket.

Mick slowed his snowmobile to a halt after the gates closed behind him and his men, getting off his bike, he swallowed the fear that had gripped him and shook his head.

Instead he pressed forward into the town, walking right past one of the sentries as he handed the man his helmet.

“Where is Thomas? I want to speak with him right now!”

The sentry handed the helmet off to another man, and nodded his head before walking after Mick, doing his best to curry the man’s favor.

“Thomas is waiting for your arrival with today’s tribute at the main hall. How was your ride, sir?”

Mick struck his fist out and knocked the sentry to the ground. Staring over him leering with disdain.

“Mind your own fucking business!”

He then stormed off towards the main hall where Thomas and others had gathered in preparation. Leaving the other sentries to help the man up whom Mick had struck.

The man wiped the blood from his lip, and spat in the snow.

“Fucking prick…. You’re lucky you’re going to see the reaper today! Make sure the samtex and transceiver are applied beneath the padding, otherwise he may notice something is wrong.”

The men nodded as they walked off to the workshop to ensure that the helmets of the bandits were all sabotaged in a similar way.

And when the sentry stared towards the main hall with disdain, another walked up behind him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea… Can they truly be trusted? What if this leads back to us? There are more to these bastards than just Mick and his crew.”

The sentry continued to glare into the distance where Mick continued to barrel through the snow, scoffing as he did so.

“There’s no way to know… but what choice do we have?”

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