Dark Days | Book 7 | Hell Town

by Lukens, Mark

  As she came fully awake, she realized she was hungry and thirsty.

  “Welcome to South Carolina,” Jacob said.

  “Looks like North Carolina,” Petra muttered.

  Jacob laughed. “You were out. Didn’t move a muscle.”

  She was glad Jacob found all of this so amusing. “You got something to drink? Something to eat?”

  “Certainly. I’m not a thug, you know.”

  Jacob slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the road.

  Petra looked around and saw that they were in a remote area. There were hills to one side, the land dipping away on the other side of the road, down into a valley. The sky was gray with clouds, but they were quick-moving clouds, revealing small areas of bright blue sky every so often, the shadows painting the valley, lightening and darkening.

  “I probably shouldn’t have to tell you not to do anything stupid, right?”

  Petra didn’t bother answering.

  Jacob removed his seatbelt and got out of the truck. He opened the small back door to the cab of the pickup, rummaging around in the back seat. He got back in the truck with some food and two cans of soda.

  “Coke or Sprite?” he asked when he sat back down, closing the door. The engine had been running the whole time, rumbling with power, the heater still on low. A blast of chilly air had drifted into the cab of the truck while Jacob had been out.

  “Sprite.”

  He handed her the can of Sprite. She opened it and drank down half of it.

  He threw a bag of trail mix and a protein bar at her; they landed in her lap. He tore the wrapper off his own protein bar and buckled his seatbelt. He shifted into drive and bit off a large hunk of the protein bar, chewing quickly, swallowing, then eating more.

  Petra ate her protein bar more slowly. It tasted terrible, but she savored it. She’d been eating so much canned food lately that it was wonderful to eat something that resembled chocolate just a little. After she was done with the protein bar she started on the trail mix.

  “It’s not too much farther,” he said.

  *

  An hour later Jacob drove down a small back road, passing a few houses and businesses. He drove toward a large wall blocking the road. The wall stretched off in both directions. It didn’t look like a formidable wall to Petra; it was made up of wooden pieces, metal panels, angle iron, two-by-four wood studs, everything seemingly tied together with wire. There were four-by-four wooden posts and metal poles every eight feet or so.

  “It keeps the rippers out,” Jacob said as if Petra had asked. “The Dark Angels have been bringing back any construction supplies they can find. The other stuff we took from the houses and buildings around here.”

  Petra didn’t really care.

  Jacob waited, parked in front of a big corrugated metal gate, the truck idling. He rolled down his window.

  Two guards popped their heads above the ten-foot wall, rifles in their hands aimed at the truck.

  Jacob opened his door and got out, still standing behind the open door. He waved his hands in the air. “It’s me!” he called out to them.

  One of the guards yelled down to someone below.

  Jacob got back in the truck, put it in gear and waited as the metal gate was rolled open. He drove through after the gate was halfway open.

  There was a small town inside the fencing. They drove down a short road to a town square, then around it, passing what used to be small businesses: little shops, offices, cafés, and diners. A large brick three-story school stood on the other side of the town square, taking up most of that block. The field of grass was empty, but in front of it, where some shrubs and flowers were dying, a large statue of some kind of Civil War hero had been toppled over.

  “The Dragon had that statue knocked down. Somehow it had survived the Ripper Plague, but he still wanted it knocked down. It’ll be taken away soon. He doesn’t want anything from the past, only from the future. A species reborn, as he calls us.”

  Petra remained silent for a moment. The town inside the fence was bigger than she had expected. “There are walls around this whole place?”

  Jacob smiled as he puttered down the road in the truck. “Almost completed. But we’ll get there. The few open areas are always patrolled and watched, in case you’re getting any funny ideas about running.”

  Petra heard the sounds of machinery somewhere in the distance, the sounds of men working.

  As Jacob drove to the other end of the square, Petra noticed the large platform with the stocks built on top of it.

  Jacob didn’t comment on it even though he knew she was staring at it.

  “Where are all the dead bodies?” Petra asked.

  “Dead bodies?”

  Petra recognized some of the buildings and streets from her nightmares, but at the same time everything seemed so different, felt so different. “I thought there were dead bodies hanging from light poles and front porches and trees. Tortured people strapped down over the roofs of cars and staked to the sides of buildings.”

  Jacob’s face scrunched in disgust. “Where’d you hear shit like that?”

  Petra didn’t answer.

  Jacob didn’t seem angry about her silence. He seemed amused by it. “I guess rumors have been spreading about this place. I can see that. People tell stories, and those stories grow and grow.”

  Petra still didn’t say anything.

  “You really don’t know anything about this place, do you? You don’t know what we’re trying to do here. We’re not the enemy. In fact, you guys might be the enemy and not even know it.”

  Petra lifted her handcuffed hands. “Yeah, I can tell you’re good people here.”

  “I needed to bring you here,” he said, still not angry, the amused (but wicked) smile still on his face. “You’re telling me you would’ve come along peacefully?”

  Petra didn’t answer him.

  “Dead bodies hanging from light poles,” Jacob said, smiling as he turned off the main square onto a side street. He drove to an intersection.

  Just beyond the intersection of Warner Street and Elm Street Petra saw a house she’d seen in her dreams—the house where the Dragon lived.

  “Hanging bodies all over the place would be pretty dumb,” Jacob continued. “It would bring rippers for sure.” He pulled up in front of the house on Elm Street, parking in the road next to the sidewalk.

  The other homes all around seemed empty to Petra. At the end of the street she saw part of the fence that surrounded this town.

  Jacob shut off the truck and got out. He walked around to the passenger door and opened it for Petra. She got out. Her legs were stiff from riding in the truck so long. She stared at the house looming in front of her as Jacob slammed the passenger door shut. The home looked well-cared for at some time in the past, but it had slowly deteriorated over the last few decades. It had a walkway that split the front yard, leading up to a wide front porch that kept the front door in shadows. The front door was painted a dark red color that reminded Petra of blood. The windows were dark; a few of the panes of glass were cracked. Dead weeds crowded the overgrown shrubs. The house didn’t look too bad, but it felt bad.

  Jacob gingerly grabbed Petra’s right arm with his left hand and led her up the cracked walkway to the front porch. Brown weeds poked up through the cracks in the concrete.

  Maybe the house seemed okay at a distance, but the closer Petra got to it the worse it looked, the more she noticed the cracks, the rot, the mildew, the mold. Even though the house seemed shabby and weak, it exuded strength, like a monstrous creature playing possum, pretending to be hurt and defenseless, luring its prey in close enough so it could attack.

  Jacob didn’t knock on the front door, he just opened it. He led Petra inside the house, into a small foyer. A set of stairs led up into the murky darkness to the left, up to a landing, then up to the second floor. To the right was an archway that opened up to a living room. Old furniture in the room, knickknacks, paintings on the walls. It se
emed like this house hadn’t been ransacked during the Collapse, like it had been avoided purposely. Or maybe the Dragon had ordered everything repaired and redecorated, a snapshot of the past.

  “Through here,” Jacob said, leading Petra past the fireplace that dominated the end of the living room. The next room was a formal dining room.

  She thought about asking Jacob if he was taking her to see the Dragon right now, but why bother—she would find out soon enough. As they walked through the house, Petra committed the layout to memory, noticing little details like the front door didn’t seem to be locked.

  They walked past an eight-seat dining room table and into a large kitchen with outdated wood cabinets, Formica countertops, white appliances, and a linoleum floor. A door with a large glass panel led out to a big back porch off of the kitchen, but Jacob led her to a door on the opposite side of the room.

  He opened the door and flipped on a light, barely illuminating a set of stairs that led down to the basement.

  “Down you go.”

  Petra walked down the steps, careful with her hands cuffed in front of her. Jacob followed her down, lighting the way with a flashlight. She had the strange feeling that he was going to shove her in the back and send her tumbling down the steps.

  The basement was large and gloomy. The tiny rectangular windows at the top of the wall had small, thick curtains over them. A few bare lightbulbs hung from a ceiling of floor joists, exposed electrical wires and plumbing, all of it covered with a layer of dust and cobwebs.

  The place looked like it had been someone’s bedroom in the past, maybe a teenager’s bedroom. Jacob shined his flashlight around, illuminating a bed against the wall at the far end, a small table beside it, a cedar chest at the foot of the bed with two thick blankets folded up on top, a bookcase with books and magazines stacked up on the shelves, a small table and two metal folding chairs. A small cooler sat on the floor next to the table. A plastic gallon of water and a battery-powered lantern sat on top of the table.

  “There’s a small bathroom over there through that door,” Jacob said, pointing with his flashlight. “It’s got a toilet and a sink, but there’s no water. There’s a bucket in there you can use. I’d recommend keeping the door closed.”

  Thanks.

  He pushed a button to turn on the battery-powered lantern on the table next to the gallon of water. He turned to Petra and pulled a key out of his pants pocket, holding it up in two fingers with a smile.

  She thrust her handcuffed wrists toward him.

  He unlocked the cuffs and took them, slipping them into his jacket pocket. He replaced the key in his front pants pocket.

  “Make yourself at home,” he told her.

  Petra didn’t move.

  Jacob walked back to the foot of the basement stairs. He was about to ascend the steps, but then he stopped and looked back at her. “You hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Get some rest. Clean up a little. He’s going to want to have you for dinner in a little bit.”

  Jacob walked up the stairs without another word. When he got to the top of the stairs he closed the door and locked it.

  She was going to have dinner with the Dragon soon. She was finally going to meet him face to face.

  CHAPTER 25

  Petra

  An hour later it was almost dark. The battery-powered lantern was the only light in the basement. It was cold. Petra spread the two blankets out on the bed. She had used some of the water from the plastic jug to wash her hands and face as Jacob had suggested. There was a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush still in the plastic packaging in the bathroom. It felt wonderful to brush her teeth. It felt wonderful to have her face and hands clean. She felt nearly human again, not so savage.

  After she had cleaned up and used the bucket, she inspected the basement—her prison for now. There was no food in the cooler, not even any snacks. The only water was the gallon of water on the top of the table. She had used almost half of it, so she decided to conserve it from now on in case that was the only water she was going to get.

  She paced the basement, inspecting the walls and the windows. There were no windows in the bathroom, just the small rectangular windows on the one long wall, three of them. There was no way she could fit through them to climb out. The walls were block and poured concrete, bowing in slightly in some places, with many coats of paint over them. Concrete floors. A section of the basement in the corner was devoted to a large furnace, the water heater, and a small sink with bare plumbing—none of it any good now.

  After creeping up the steps to check the basement door (it was locked, but you couldn’t blame her for trying), she checked out the bookcase against the longer wall. She’d never been much of a reader, but there probably wouldn’t be much else to do down here. There were twenty-seven books and fourteen magazines on the shelves. Some James Patterson hardbacks and paperbacks, some Nora Roberts, and a Stephen King book—a fat tome called Duma Key. There were a few other western paperbacks, a few gothic romances, and a small Bible.

  She sat down on the bed, and then she lay down, stretching out, staring up at the ceiling. She listened for any noises coming from upstairs.

  Nothing.

  She closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was tired after all the hours she had slept in Jacob’s truck, but she was sleepy. Maybe she was catching up on some badly needed rest. Even though she’d basically been abducted, at least she was safe from rippers for the moment. And maybe that was allowing her mind and body to relax.

  Her thoughts turned to escaping this basement, this town. Most of the town had been walled in with various types of fencing, and Jacob told her that guards were posted everywhere in the few open sections. She didn’t doubt that—they had to keep any rippers out.

  But how many guards could there be here? How many lived in this town? She imagined many of the soldiers were out on their missions, collecting supplies, food, and even other survivors to bring back here.

  Or were there other places, other towns like this that the Dragon had set up?

  Maybe the Dark Angels weren’t as organized and formidable as she had thought at first, or as they pretended to be. Maybe they had their defectors among them, their doubters. Jacob definitely wasn’t a doubter, he seemed as loyal to the Dragon as a person could get, buying into the Dragon’s bullshit—hook, line, and sinker. But maybe others around here weren’t as loyal. She would have to keep an eye out for someone like that, a possible ticket out of here.

  But not until she tried to kill the Dragon first . . . if she could get that chance.

  Even if she managed to escape the basement, where would she go? The Dark Angels would know the surrounding areas pretty well. She would have to get lucky enough to escape, then find some kind of vehicle, then maybe even a map so she would know where she was going.

  She thought about Max, Kate, and Brooke. She wondered what they thought about her. Did they think she was dead? Did they even know she’d been taken by the Dragon? Were Lance and Crystal dead? Dale and Zak? Tyrone and Tamara? Or were they being held somewhere in this town, in some other basement in some other house? The idea of them being here gave her hope. If she could find them, then maybe they could all get out of here together.

  She’d asked Jacob about Lance, Dale, and Crystal, but he hadn’t given any information away, not a clue. He pretended not to know about anything going on in this town, but she was pretty sure he knew more than he claimed.

  The Dark Angels had attacked the store—he’d said that much. Jeff had been a mole; he had suggested there were supplies at his uncle’s house, but it had really been his own house, it had really been a setup. Had the Dark Angels overrun the store? Had they gotten to Max, Kate, and Brooke? To Jo and the others in the store? Had some of them been abducted or killed, the supplies taken? Were some of them here in this town too?

  It was all driving her crazy. She couldn’t think about things that she had no control over, things that she had no way of knowing a
t this time.

  She heard someone unlocking the basement door at the top of the stairs.

  She sat bolt-upright on the bed and swung her feet to the floor, her body tense.

  For what? What was she going to do? What could she do?

  The door opened. From down here in the basement she couldn’t see the door at the top of the stairs because it was hidden by the wall of the basement—all she could see was the bottom of the stairs.

  Someone was coming down the stairs, taking their time, slow and easy.

  “Petra,” Jacob called out.

  She didn’t answer. She just waited.

  “You still hungry?” he asked when he got to the bottom of the steps.

  She still didn’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You’ve got a dinner date waiting for you upstairs.”

  Petra remained sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Jacob waited at the bottom of the steps, on the small wood landing. “Don’t make me come over there and get you,” he said, his smile disappearing, his eyes cold, all amusement gone.

  She stood up and walked toward Jacob.

  He waited with one hand tucked inside his hoodie.

  She got to Jacob and held her wrists together in front of her so he could cuff them.

  His smile was back again, an eerie thing that didn’t match his eyes. “How are you going to eat with your hands tied?”

  Petra dropped her hands to her sides.

  “After you,” he said, gesturing at the stairs.

  She slid past him and walked up the stairs to the open door. She entered the kitchen. Jacob was right beside her a few seconds later.

  “The dining room,” he told her in a low voice. He darted past her into the dining room, pulling a chair out at the head of the table closest to the archway into the kitchen.

  She sat down in the chair and scooted closer to the table. A plate, napkin, and some silverware (no steak knife, she noticed) were laid out in front of her on a cloth placemat. There was only one other setting at the other end of the table.