This Land of Monsters

by Tim Gabrielle

Emma smiled before she turned and looked out the window, waiting nervously for Sullivan and Dietrich to reappear.

  Chapter 33

  Dietrich and Sullivan made their way through the deserted streets, weaving in and out of the broken down cars as they moved toward the Mansion.

  “Why the hell is it so quiet?” whispered Dietrich as he crouched between cars.

  “It’s strange.” The silence was deafening all around them, but it didn’t prepare them for the strong, pungent smell that enveloped them as they got closer to the mansion.

  They climbed into an abandoned school bus and stepped over decaying bodies to find a set of open seats. Dietrich crouched down below the line of windows as Sullivan sat up slightly and peered through a pair of binoculars.

  The ground smoked violently as all the howlers lay in a carpet of dead, charred bodies. A man walked on the outside of the wall, spraying the pile of dead with a flame-thrower.

  “Shit,” he whispered and handed the set to Dietrich to view. “That son of a bitch moves fast.” Heads lined the wall of the Mansion, each one a member of the fort.

  “That he does,” said Dietrich as he scanned the wall outside the Mansion.

  “Sherry…” whispered Dietrich, his eyes glued to his wife’s severed head. He handed the binoculars back to Sullivan before he slumped into one of the bus seats, his eyes closed, his breath erratic.

  “My wife.”

  “What?” Sullivan asked, pressing the binoculars to his face. He scanned each of the staring faces of the people he’d once shared the Treefort with. His gaze stopped at Dianna’s face, which looked directly his way with open, milky eyes. A violent mixture of rage and sadness bubbled in his core. He clenched his teeth, his eyes burning with furious tears.

  “What now?” Dietrich asked, his voice soft. Sullivan placed the binoculars back in his bag.

  “We leave. We start fresh, someplace new,” he said, voice flat. “It doesn’t matter how many weapons we have. Without the howlers to start the attack, we’re massively outgunned. He’s won.”

  “I won’t accept that,” said Dietrich, following Sullivan off the bus. “He needs to die. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”

  Sullivan stopped him in his tracks and placed his hand on Dietrich’s shoulder.

  “Another day,” he said. “Think of the others.”

  “He killed my wife.”

  “He took everything from me and my people — I understand your rage. I feel it too. But the kids need us more than we need our revenge.”

  Chapter 34

  They made their way down a long country road, the quiet afternoon interrupted only by the sound of their footsteps on the pavement. It’d been two weeks since they left the Mansion, and although they’d met their fair share of howlers, they had not come across a single living person. The countryside was dotted with abandoned farmland and rolling hills that stretched out in each direction.

  Dietrich and Sullivan led the group. Each of them walked with purpose, a rifle at their shoulder. The rest of the group followed close behind, Nash fitted with a rifle, the girls with knives and handguns. Melissa had originally put up a fuss about the men being the only ones with rifles, but once the rifle was place in her hands, she quickly returned it in favor of her smaller firearm. They heavy weapon weighed her down much more than her pistol.

  Sleeping at night in the open was a chore. They laid there restlessly under the night sky, fearing an ambush by Fletcher’s men. They knew he would be hunting them and expected the worst at any every moment.

  So they walked, covered by the shadow of a thick canopy of trees and aimlessly looked for a safe place to exist. They’d stayed away from interstates, choosing to keep to back roads and country paths.

  They hadn’t seen any traces of Fletcher’s group since they had fled but on the fifteenth day, Sullivan stopped suddenly to the side of a dirt road. His hand shot into the air to signal for them all to stop. Dietrich stepped up next to Sullivan, weapons at the ready.

  “I’m coming out,” said a woman’s voice. “Please, don’t shoot.”

  An elderly woman, with long gray hair pulled into a messy ponytail, stepped out from the bushes with a basket full of berries. She made her way to the middle of the road, her hands out in surrender with a basket of berries in the crook of her elbow.

  “I’m alone,” said the woman. Sullivan continued to train the barrel of his gun on her, responding only with silence. “Please, just leave me alone. I’m only picking berries for a pie. I just want to be left in peace.”

  Sullivan stood a moment and glared at her from beneath his dark sunglasses before he lowered his weapon and gestured for the rest to do the same.

  “We’ll be on our way,” he said as he moved past her. They walked past her in single file. The twins pulled up the rear, smiling in unison at the warm-faced woman.

  “Those look tasty. Good luck with your pie,” whispered Courtney as she passed.

  “Wait,” said the woman from behind. The group stopped as she approached them, her basket of berries now held at her side. Sullivan’s gun aimed once more at her. She stared at the weapon for a moment before she turned her gaze back to the twins. “Where are you all heading?”

  They stood silent, unsure how to answer until Dietrich stepped forward. “We’re not sure, to be perfectly honest. Somewhere safe, hopefully.”

  A conflicted look fell over the woman’s face as she looked at the group of armed strangers in front of her.

  “My group lives not far from here,” she said, slowly. “It’s not a big place, and not very secure, but we don’t get much traffic in these parts, either living or dead.”

  “Where?” asked Sullivan coldly.

  “About a mile down this road. You’re heading that way anyway so I may as well walk with you and let you talk to Paxton.”

  “Who’s Paxton?” Sullivan demanded from the back of the group.

  “He’s my husband. I suppose you could say he’s our leader.”

  “Dietrich will walk with you to meet with your husband,” said Sullivan. “We will come later, once he’s assured us that it’s safe.”

  “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” the woman said with a smile.

  There was another rustling as an older man came walking from a path in the woods with a concerned look on his face as he surveyed the group. He held a basket of berries as well, but in his other hand he supported himself with a twisted, homemade walking cane. His white beard extended past his shoulders and ended halfway down his chest while his white hair reached his jawline.

  “You old coot,” said the woman as she walked over to the man. “Stalking me again, I see.”

  “I thought I’d surprise ya,” he said and handed her the basket, which she combined with hers. “Seeing your new friends, I reckon I’m glad I did.”

  “Hello, sir,” said Dietrich, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “My name is Dietrich Campbell. My group and I were just passing through.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” said the woman as the old man feebly shook Dietrich’s hand. “I was just going to bring them to meet you. My name is Sally and this is my husband Paxton.”

  The group smiled and waved slightly. Sullivan stood stoic as ever.

  “We haven’t agreed on anything yet, ma’am,” said Sullivan “My group isn’t stepping foot into your camp until we know it’s safe.”

  “Well regardless of what my sweet wife may’ve told y’all, I ain’t gonna welcome you into our camp until I know you ain’t no threat.”

  “Don’t mind him,” said Dietrich, picking up on Paxton’s distrust of Sullivan’s militant stance. “We’ve been through a lot. We’re sort of refugees.”

  “Refugees of what?” asked Paxton as he leaned on his walking stick.

  They stood in the shade of the road, and Dietrich struggled to find the words. “We were part of a group,” he began. “We were not willing to conform to their ways—we didn’t want to participate in their debauchery. We’re the only
ones that escaped, but they may be after us.”

  Paxton sized up the group, looking at each of them quietly before looking exchanging a long, debating look with Sally. “We ain’t goin’ anywhere until you shoulder them rifles,” said Paxton, looking uneasily at the rifles the men were holding. After a moment of hesitation, Sullivan nodded to Nash and Dietrich and they all shouldered their weapons. “Come on, then.”

  The group walked together, Sally offering her basket of berries, which the twins and Melissa accepted with smiles. It took a half hour before they came into the town Paxton and Sally called home. The pavement gave way to dirt road as the approached a sign at the town limits, which read Hillcrest. Old school buses and vans sat idle, lining the street outside the town.

  “Getaway vehicles, I presume?” Sullivan asked.

  “You got it, friend. Ain’t never had to use any of ‘em,” Paxton said. “Not yet, anyhow. Got a whole other line of ‘em down yonder.”

  The tree canopy became thicker as they made their way down the dirt road. The homes in the town were old, brick farmhouses dating as far back as the Civil War. People nodded from their front porches as they walked, welcoming the new people being led by Paxton through the town.

  “How many people live here?” asked Nash as he locked eyes with an elderly couple that sat on their front porch, their gazes filled with concern.

  “With Paxton and myself, twenty,” said Sally. “Some old folks, like us, but we have quite a few young bucks who do their best to keep us safe and secure.”

  “I don’t see any line of defense,” said Sullivan as he towered over Dietrich and Paxton while he walked behind them. “How do you keep the dead out?”

  “I’m sure you noticed how long a walk it is to get back here,” said Paxton. “We hardly see any kind of movement in these here parts. You’re the only people we seen, livin’ or dead, in months.”

  “And we’ve always been here,” said Sally.

  “I was born here and I reckon I’ll die here,” said Paxton. “When everythin’ went south, people here pulled up stakes and headed for the safe zones the government was talking about, didn’t turn out to be so safe, I reckon. Been quiet as a mouse ‘round here ever since.”

  Sally and Paxton led them up a walkway to an old, stone home that was beautifully landscaped all around. Paxton opened the front door, allowing his wife in first, followed by the rest of the group. The inside of the home was well kept and smelled of fresh baked goods. From the spot they stood, they could see right into Sally’s kitchen and immediately knew she had been preparing to bake before she went out in search of the berries.

  “Ladies, would you be so kind as to assist me with this pie?” asked Sally with a smile. Melissa and the twins showed no resistance and moved into the kitchen with her. Emma stood with an indifferent look on her face as Dietrich softly nudged her with his elbow.

  “Fine,” she said begrudgingly and left the men behind and she moved into the kitchen.

  “Please, this way,” said Paxton as he opened a door and ushered them inside. The walls inside the room were covered in framed black and white photos of the town before the turn of the century, complete with tattered photos of Civil War soldiers who stood and posed for a photo in one of the towns sprawling fields.

  “These are fantastic,” whispered Nash, looking at the photos. The rest of the group sat down at a long, wooden table.

  “All originals, my boy,” said Paxton from the head of the table. “I consider myself a bit of a collector. I have more upstairs that I can show you some other time.”

  Nash sat down at the table and admired the obvious craftsmanship that had gone into its construction.

  “I need to make one thing clear,” said Paxton, his arms folded on the table in front of him. “We here are a peaceful group. We ain’t gone lookin’ for trouble and trouble hardly finds us. We’d like to keep it that way.”

  “We understand,” said Dietrich while he mentally prepared to pick up and leave Hillcrest.

  “With that being said, I can’t, in good conscience, send y’all back out to the eaters. Just ‘cause we don’t go lookin’ for trouble don’t mean we ain’t prepared for it. From the looks of it, y’all come pretty prepared yourselves. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, assuming you can mind you manners and all.”

  “Will the rest of your community be as accepting of us as you have been?” asked Dietrich.

  “Especially given the trouble we may possibly bring to you your doorstep,” said Sullivan.

  “It’s a funny thing, but a lot of the people living here have a military background,” he said. “We’re ain’t scared of no fight. Plus, it seems like you’ve put some distance between yourselves and this Mansion.”

  “Did you serve?” asked Sullivan.

  “The people here refer to me as the Colonel, but no,” he said. “I’ve always been fascinated by the Civil War, as I’m sure you seen. I had ancestors fight for the North, though.”

  “A group full of ex-military being led by a civilian,” said Sullivan. “That’s something to be proud of.”

  “I supposed it is,” said Paxton with a smile. “But like I done said, we ain’t seen much trouble here. I’m just a figurehead. A peacetime leader, if you will.”

  “A leader, nonetheless,” said Dietrich as he reached across the table and shook his hand. “We thank you for your hospitality. I’m sure my group would be happy helping with anything they can while staying with you.”

  “I’m sure, in time, we’ll find suitable tasks for y’all, but for now, let’s get you settled in,” said Paxton as he stood and headed for the door they’d entered through. “Let me show you to your home.”

  Paxton walked down the street, his back slightly bent when he walked, his walking stick bracing each footstep as the group followed behind him. People along the street smiled and nodded as they passed with polite apprehension. Laughter filled the air from somewhere down the street, followed by the sharp screech of a bird overhead. The summer breeze brushed passed them as they followed Paxton, and for those that had been there, the memories of the Treefort wound their way into their minds.

  “Here we are,” said Paxton, stopping at a white picket fence with a large colonial home behind it. The exterior was an old, red brick, with black shutters and white curtains.

  “I’ve grown to distaste colonial houses,” whispered Melissa to Nash.

  “Go on and get settled in. I’ll come by later,” said Paxton as he slowly walked back to his home. “We’re having a town meeting tonight and now that you’ve shown up, I have a feeling it’s gonna go later than expected.”

  The group filed into the house and quickly chose their rooms. Nash and Melissa selected a room on the second floor that overlooked the dirt road they’d entered the town on. There was a knock at the open door as Dietrich leaned into their room.

  “We’re meeting downstairs to talk,” he said before making his way toward the stairs. Nash and Melissa made their way down, settling themselves on the bottom step.

  “We were fortunate to find this place,” said Dietrich, while he leaned his back against the front door. “But we need to decide if we should stay. I personally feel Fletcher will not stop until he finds us. Staying means we’re bringing the fight to Paxton’s doorstep.”

  “He sounds like he’s ready for a fight,” said Nash. “If we were going to be taken in by anyone to help us with Fletcher, this is the group.”

  “It’s not their fight,” said Sullivan as he watched a couple of men walk past on the street outside, glancing at the house as they did. “They may have the know how, but they’re out-gunned. They have no visible defenses either—were sitting ducks here.”

  “We have to stay,” said Melissa. “If Fletcher makes it this far out to find us, he’s gonna find Hillcrest anyway. We need to help them defend themselves. You think he’ll just let them stay here?”

  “She’s right,” said Nash. “They’ll need us as much as we’ll need them.�
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  “It’s settled then,” said Dietrich and pushed himself away from the door. “I think we’ve found something special here.”

  The group spent the rest of the afternoon in their new house, relaxing and waiting for the town meeting. Until they’d been formally introduced, they wanted to keep a low profile. Sullivan stood watch at his window, ever vigilant, as he searched the streets for any danger. He listened to the sounds of the birds outside, warm air flowing in through the open window. For the first time since he left the Mansion, Dianna’s face appeared like a ghost in the back of his mind. Not the morbid, milky-eyed version he’d seen on the Mansion wall, but the smiling woman he’d known and loved back at the Treefort. Fletcher would come, he knew that, they just had to be ready.

  About an hour before sundown, Sally knocked on their door. The group had already been gathered downstairs, with the exception of Sullivan who continued to stand guard from his upstairs bedroom.

  “Hello, dear,” said Sally as Dietrich opened the door with a smile. “Paxton is already on his way to the meeting house. Would you all be so kind as to help me carry my pies down to the hall?”

  “Oh I think that with pie involved, you shouldn’t have any trouble getting our assistance,” said Dietrich with a smile as he opened the door wide and they all filed out into the warm evening air.

  The large double doors of the schoolhouse stood open and revealed Paxton leaning against a large podium at the front of the room. People stood all around inside talking as they waited to meet the new residents of Hillcrest.

  “Are you ready?” asked Sally.

  “Ready as ever,” said Dietrich as he returned her smile and motioned to her to lead the way.

  Chapter 35

  The rubble and ash from the burning buildings choked him as the flames crept closer. He groaned with pain, clutching his left arm tightly as he hobbled away from the wreckage. The fire roared behind him, but the screaming and gunfire grew louder with each step away from the flames. He kept low, hoping to avoid any stray bullets—the screaming wasn’t just from the living and so he tried to keep his watering eyes on his surroundings.