The leader stumbled, limping on its ruined leg, but still intent on the kill. I waited until it was close enough and put the barrel in its mouth. Give it credit, it stared back with utter hatred, not a shred of fear in its eyes.
Fuck you! That was way too merciful…and I was in no mood for mercy.
I stepped back and blew its arm off. It screamed in pain and fury, but I looked at the body of my dog and bared my teeth. I walked to the pile of shells and reloaded.
I took its legs off next, then its other arm. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and spat on the torso. The smell made my eyes water it was so bad, and the screams of the creature grated down my spine.
I chambered the last round, leaning down over the maw of the monster which continued to snap. “Time to die, you FUCK!” Its head exploded, scattering gore out over a six-foot radius.
I stood shaking, my heart thundering in my chest. I needed to kill more; needed to kill them all for what they’d done to my friends; for what they’d done to Tray!
I dropped the gun and stared at the body of my dog. My dog. She’d been mine for less than twenty-four hours, and all I’d done to reward her loyalty and faith in me was to get her killed. I limped slowly toward her.
The pain in my side and arm exploded with each step, and a grey haze settled at the edges of my vision.
I groaned, kneeling down next to her while holding my side as best I could to prevent blood spilling from the wound. Had to give them kudos – their claws were razor-sharp: I would have no jagged, torn flesh to contend with.
Tray looked like she was sleeping. Ridiculously, I didn’t want to wake her, so I reached out to softly touch her fur. She whimpered, and my heart leapt as tears burned in my eyes. She was alive!
The beast had smacked her into a tree and knocked her senseless, but she’d survived. She was tougher than I thought possible. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, but she whined, trying to get up to greet me. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Stay with me, girl.” I scooped her up, hugging her close as tears rolled down my face. She whimpered when I lifted her, but settled, looking into my eyes from her own unique irises. They were warm, expressive, and completely trusting. Her pupils were equal, and reactive to light. That was good for people, so it had to be good for dogs too, right? My heart broke again.
“Don’t leave me, Tray,” I whispered, even as she leaned up and licked the salt from my face. “You’re such a good girl.”
She struggled, her back legs pushing her up as she assaulted my face, covering it in wet slobbers. I fell back against the dying pine tree as she settled into my arms.
I don’t know how long I sat with her in my arms. It felt like hours, but had to have been only a minute or two. I didn’t care. My dog was with me.
The pain finally shook me out of the stupor, and I laid Tray gently to the ground, shushing her to remain still. I struggled to my feet to inspect my wounds, wincing as I probed the gash on my side. It had already stopped bleeding, which I took as a positive sign.
The slash on my arm was a different matter. Skin and flesh hung loose, a six-inch flap that bled like a son-of-a-bitch. I applied pressure as I walked back to the cabin. I needed to get this fixed before I bled out from plain stupidity. I was already lightheaded when I reached the medicine cabinet in the main bathroom. I unpacked the first aid kit; I didn’t have time to stitch the wound, so I rummaged in the pack for the small white tube of superglue.
Not many people realize the main reason superglue was invented. Yeah, it was great for sticking broken crockery together, but it was the warning written in red on the tube that I needed right now.
Warning: Bonds skin on contact.
I counted on that, and I grimaced as I applied the substance along the cleanly sliced edge of the wound. I bit back a scream and almost buckled as a wave of nausea hit me, but I kept the pressure on until the skin bonded together.
Breathing deeply, I inspected my handiwork. It’d leave a hell of a scar. Pity I had no one to show it off to.
The thought tolled like a bell in my head. No one to show it off to. There was no one left. I was alone. Panic threatened to overcome me, but the thought of Tray waiting outside gave me the strength to beat it down. With a grateful smile, I went back out to my dog.
“Come on, girl,” I said, as my stomach gave out a loud grumble. “I’m hungry, but we’re sure as hell not hanging around here.” I opened the passenger door and lifted her gently into the footwell. “How about we hit that diner we passed a few miles down the highway?”
Tray wagged her tail half-heartedly, and I got behind the wheel. I took a final look around the place where the last of my family had died before pulling away, my already-raw eyes stinging again.
Chapter Six
The Diner
Jennifer
I looked at the remains of the salami sandwich sitting on the paper plate in my lap. I didn’t even like salami, especially not for breakfast, but it was all that was left of the pre-packaged cold cuts. I couldn’t risk eating the sliced chicken unless I wanted food poisoning. The power had gone out three nights ago. It had been three long, endless, and terrifying nights.
I’d been stupid. When the lights went out that first evening, I was plunged into pitch blackness. The canopies blocked most of the moonlight, so I’d resorted to crawling on my hands and knees to the kitchen, fumbling around to find the candles under one of the sinks.
I only knew they were there because I had put them there, along with a box of matches taped to the packet. Thank God for paranoia.
I had lit one candle, then another. I’d sat huddled up against a table, my bottom lip quivering as I imagined those things emerging from the flickering darkness. So I lit enough candles to banish the shadows, wasting them, and spent the next two nights crying myself to sleep in utter blackness, buried under the tablecloth I used as a blanket. Yeah. Stupid.
I bolted upright as I heard the crunch of tires out front, the first sign of life I’d heard in days. Dad? My heart leapt at the possibility. I rushed to the window, peering out to see a dark red pickup. My heart sank. Not Dad.
‘Don’t open the doors to anyone except me.’ My father’s parting words echoed in my head, but this was the first vehicle I’d heard or seen since Halloween. For the last two days, I’d sat outside on the small hill behind the diner, enjoying the weak winter sunshine and desperately hoping for, needing some sign of life. Here it was.
But was it the answer to my prayers, or my biggest nightmare? I couldn’t see the driver. They’d walked away, maybe to the side entrance of the building, before I’d had the chance to look out.
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen, the only place, besides the bathrooms, to hide. The back door, the one for emergency use, was through the kitchen. Like the side door, there was no handle on the outside. Neither door could be opened, right? Not from the outside.
BOOM! The noise and splintering wood proved I knew nothing, as a six-inch hole let the morning sunlight in from the side entrance.
Goddammit!
I briefly quailed at my silent profanity. My parents…the Lord, would be appalled at my thoughts, but…later. I put my fear of spiritual retribution aside and bolted into the kitchen, the heavy doors swinging shut behind me, just as my peripheral vision picked up a figure in the doorway. He was huge.
Definitely not Dad.
I’m not alone! a tiny voice rejoiced in my head.
I sneaked a look through the crack in the kitchen door, keeping low so my head wouldn’t show through the round windows. I tried to calm my breathing as the man stepped on the discarded container of one of the pre-packed sandwiches I’d existed on for the past few days.
Then I saw it. He had a gun. A big gun, and it scared me to death. I played the adult, but I was just a nineteen-year-old, small-town girl, and I didn’t know shit about self-protection. Sorry, God. I might not be a supermodel, but still…last girl in the wo
rld?
I was fucked…maybe literally. God, Jesus, and Mary, I’m sorry for the profanity, but please help me out of this shit anyway? Whatever this guy wanted, he could get. I had to run. Maybe if I got to the woods down the hill, he’d miss me.
The door started to open, slowly.
“Hello? Is there anyone in here?”
The deep voice almost made me jump out of my skin, but I crouched behind the work table in the center of the kitchen, afraid to peer around.
“I won’t hurt you, okay?”
Yeah, right. Like you’re gonna say, ‘Come here and let me have my wicked way with you?’
The emergency door to the back was five feet away, but it may as well have been a mile. I was terrified, a rabbit caught in the glow of an onrushing car, but I had to move. I had to move now.
***
Jaz
I checked the front entrance of the diner and shook my head. No way was I getting through that fucker without a line of cordite.
Shit. Maybe I was out of luck, the same way my stomach was out of food. That’s not an option. I’d been living on canned crap for days, and I was sick of it. Besides, I had to feed my dog, and she deserved a fresh meal, too. I walked around the side of the building, taking in the huge dish on the roof. This must have been a popular place, back in the day…oh, a week ago. I bet truckers spent hours watching sports in here.
I kicked a stone, sending it skittering across the ground to hit a side entrance to the diner. Aha! The blue painted wooden door was the only barrier to my grumbling stomach, so I didn’t hesitate. Using conventional ammo, I blew the lock apart.
My appetite lasted as long as it took me to cross the threshold. My shotgun was up and forward as I took in the scene. It was a wreck, like everywhere else had been, every surface littered with crap…but this was different. There was a slight odor of rotting food, but nothing like the corruption I’d experienced over the last couple of days. There was no blood, either.
My heart leapt. I’m not alone!
Shit! I never expected an empty sandwich box to catch me out, and it startled me as it crunched under my boot. I almost snorted. Years of sneaking through an urban jungle, only to fall victim to a poly-propylene wrapper?
I crouched. The tables were littered with scraps, leftovers from a few days of eating the provisions. Whoever was here wasn’t house proud. Not that I blamed them; it’s not as if any customers were coming.
I scanned the interior. The building faced west, so there was barely enough sunlight to see, but I knew by instinct this room was clear. It was so quiet, so still, that a single breath would be a giveaway.
That left the kitchen, where the heavy double doors with their single round windows were still swinging slightly.
Whoever had been in here was now in there. I swallowed, my heart hammering as my mouth dried up. I was trapped between the need for cooked food and the possible companionship of another person, and the instinct to survive.
What if whoever was in there were armed? I moved to the wall beside the kitchen door to hide from view, crouching down as I nudged one of the doors open with my shotgun.
***
Jennifer
A slight scrape of metal on wood made me risk a glance around the corner of the table. My stomach sank. The man hadn’t just stolen food and left, as I’d been hoping. The barrel of a gun was opening one of the swing doors. This was it. I rose up and bolted for the emergency exit, bounding out into the early morning sunlight.
The woods were a little over fifty yards away. If I could make it, I’d be safe; safe from the man who wanted to hurt me.
So close – just a few more steps.
The air in my lungs hitched, and my leg muscles burned in protest. God, I should have taken track.
I made it! The canopy closed above me. My heart pounded in my ears, but I was safe.
Then the vice-like grip closed on my arm, and I screamed.
***
Jaz
A flash of bright fabric preceded a crash as the emergency exit flew open, and the shape ran out. Two steps and I was in the doorway, watching it – her – run away. Shit, she was just a kid, no wonder she was scared of me. Then I realized where she was running to. If she reached the woods, I’d lose her.
No! I took off after her, dropping the shotgun as soon as I hit grass. It only took me a few strides to catch up. She was petite and slim, delicate-boned, and I was honestly worried I could break her. I tried to be gentle as I grabbed her arm, but her diminutive size hid a ferocity I’d never suspected.
Her scream ripped the air as fast as she ripped her arm out of my grasp and backhanded me in the face. Fuck! That stung like a mo-fo!
She took off again. I heard her gasping sobs. She was terrified. Thing was, if she reached the trees she might get away, and, for both her sake and mine, I couldn’t let that happen. Bad things happened in the trees. So I did something I never thought I’d do. I put on a burst of speed and tackled her. I grimaced as I heard the wind whoosh out of her lungs, as she grunted in pain with the impact.
I grappled with her kicking, screaming, writhing body, pinning her with my knees. Her arms flailed, trying to push me away, but I had the advantage in upper body strength. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, and the sobs made her lips tremble.
“No…don’t,” she whimpered.
Don’t what? Then it hit me. Fuck. She was scared of me. She thought I was going to hurt her. In retrospect, I couldn’t blame her. It made me hesitate just long enough for her to hurt me.
***
Jennifer
The look of pain on his face as I drove my knee into his groin made me wince. He wasn’t armed anymore, but I still had to get away. He rolled off me, groaning as his hands grabbed his crotch. My shoulders and ribs still ached from the take-down, and I didn’t have the energy to crawl more than a few yards away before I stopped for breath.
The man was saying something, but the blood pounding in my head blurred the words into inaudible echoes. He pointed back to the diner. What did he want?
The galloping in my chest softened to a canter.
“My gun…my gun.” He pointed again, and I saw it, the black shape of a shotgun lying in the grass by the open emergency exit. He actually wanted me to get him his gun? Was he crazy?
He might have read my expression as he managed to sit up, gasping with the pain. God, he was huge…Kinda cute – for an old guy.
“If it makes you feel better, why don’t you skip on over there and take Mr. Shotgun,” he said, gasping painfully.
His vivid blue eyes met mine, both sets wet with tears...mine with fear, his with pain. “By the way, you pack a mighty punch for someone so…petite.”
I knew he’d been about to say “small.” I hated being called small, even though it was the truth. Five foot nothing and slim, I must have looked like a twelve-year-old to this bear of a man.
“I was never going to hurt you.” His voice was quiet and even. “I have…I had a kid.”
The rims of his eyes glistened, either from grief or leftover pain from the kick to the nuts, but I refused to be moved. I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t trust him. He seemed to be recovering from the kick, though, so I scuttled onto my feet and ran to grab the shotgun, rounding on him with it raised. It was heavy!
He raised his hands and softly said, “The safety’s on, but you have a round chambered. Also, you’ll need to hold the stock close into your shoulder, hard, or you’ll knock your teeth out when you shoot.” He stayed on the ground, but managed to sit up more comfortably and carefully spread his legs apart. “The safety is the little lever by your right thumb, by the way, in case you decide to shoot me.”
He smiled wryly then, and I flushed a bit, noticing again that he was kind of cute…as long as I held the shotgun.
“Of course, I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling as badly as my hands. The weapon was heavy and my arms and shoulders were already beginning
to ache. He didn’t act threatening, but what did I know? And I knew nothing about guns. What the heck was I supposed to do with the safety?
“My name’s Jason, by the way, but my friends call me Jaz,” he answered. He jerked his chin to the diner. “How come you’re all alone out here?”
***
Jaz
Shit! How could I have let this happen? The kid was spooked...bad. It was clear she’d never handled a weapon before, but the shotgun was loaded. All it would take would be a slip from her, and yours truly would be a smear on the grass.
I nodded to the diner. I had to calm her down, let her see I wasn’t a threat. “How come you’re all alone out here?”
Her eyes narrowed, and the drooping barrel centered back on my chest again. Fuck!
“I’m not alone,” she said defensively, her voice and body language screaming that she was lying. “My dad. He’s coming back. He’s just…he went to get my mom and sister. He’ll be back soon.”
Tears still ran down her face, unnoticed. She was in shock. Fuck, I was in shock, too, but I had to take control of the situation.
“What’s your name, kid?”
Her eyes narrowed again, and her voice was sharp. “I’m not a kid. I’m nineteen!”
I wasn’t doing too well so far. I put my palms back up placatingly. “Okay, you’re not a kid, sorry. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to stand up. My ass is going numb on this freezing ground.” I smiled as disarmingly as I could. “Is that alright, Miss? You still have the gun, so you hold the cards.”
She seemed to consider my words for a moment, and I didn’t move. It went against my instincts, which screamed “disarm and disable,” but I had to let her make the decision. I let out a breath as she nodded slightly.
Treaters: Book One of the Divine Conflict. Page 6