I take my phone out, highlighting the dark hallway where all the candles have been snuffed out – Brig of course grunts her disapproval of the device. Unsettling silence makes my heart pound as we follow the pictures that now seem much scarier in the middle of the shadows. We reach the kitchen and I can see bright light streaming in from the windows facing the backyard.
“Look! Brig, get over here!”
Outside the window, an enormous bonfire reaches up at least ten feet in the air, lighting up the barn and tractors surrounding the area. Eleven figures surround the fire, standing in a loose circle, swaying back and forth. A low chant rumbles through the air, a mixture of hisses and loud yelling from whom could only be Farmer Claude.
Brig tenses up next to me, looking out the window and grabbing out her hand gun. “There’s our boy Sledge, tied up like the ritual sacrifice. I told you!”
I grimace back to her, replying, “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for all this, because I still want that breakfast.”
She punches my arm and throws me out the back door.
The chanting stops. The swaying ceases as all eyes look over at us.
“Well, I’m mighty sorry friends,” a man says as he takes off his hood. “Did my daughters and I wake you with our chanting? My apologies.”
Sledge looks over at me, his mouth gagged and his eyes wide as he struggles against some ropes holding his hands and legs hogtied behind his back.
Yeah, there’s no explanation for this.
I scan the ten other figures as Claude stands near Sledge. They’re all wearing various forms of dresses torn and ragged, patches of hair missing from the red and black covered heads. Bodies gaunt and tight, stretched thin so the skin seems brittle. Chunks missing from them in places, red skin glowing in the firelight. One of the largest of the figures who stands maybe ten feet from us has her ragged breasts exposed as she hisses and gnashes her teeth at me. Their eyes glow a fierce red in the light.
Skulks.
“Claude,” Brig speaks firmly. “I thought you said your daughters were killed by skulks – these don’t seem to be your daughters.”
Claude chuckles, an uneasy laugh. “Oh, they were definitely taken by skulks, but these girls you see here, they still are my daughters. I take care of them, I bathe them, I feed them. Every now and then they look at me and tell me thanks with their eyes – I can just tell.” He points over to one of the skulks with a pink frilly dress. “Annabelle here especially loves poodles, so I’m hoping one day to find her one to eat.”
“Annabelle” smiles a drooling, black smile in Claude’s direction.
Brig pulls her handgun, aiming it at the hooded farmer. Immediately I pull out my rifle, aiming the sights at his head. The skulks, ten of them, let out a shrill hiss at the same time and form two rows in front of Claude the farmer.
One of the hooded figures still stands near Sledge, and as she removes it to bend down near him, I can see it’s the one living daughter, Rose.
“What about Rose?” I yell out to Claude. “She’s still alive and you make her watch this crap like it’s the movie Saw!” Brig narrows her eyes at me with the reference. “You’re messed up old man. Give us our friend and let us go!”
Another low chuckle. “I can’t do that.”
I feel my face getting hot against the licking flames as I near the wall of skulks who reach their clawed fingers toward Brig and I while they hiss in the air. “You’ll do that, or we’re going to end all of your daughters here right now. Give us our friend now!”
Claude steps out from the wall of figures, a sinister laugh coming from his lips. “Is that a threat boy? I don’t take too kindly to threats.” He brings his leg out in front of him, flashing the metal of a large machete. “I need your sacrifices to feed my daughters. It’s all for their good, I will do anything for them. Remember…they will never bite the hand that feeds.”
And it all makes sense to me. Comes crashing down with realization. The man was able to maintain his farm in immaculate condition free from other skulks and radiated monsters, because he had a small army of skulks himself. He controlled them like a pack of wild dogs – sure they would take him if they could, but he coerced them by providing for them.
“You’re gonna die,” Brig grits between her teeth, pulling the trigger.
What ensues is complete chaos.
Violent.
Messy.
Chaos.
A bullet tears through the head of one of the middle skulks, dropping it to the ground with a sickening thud. The other skulks scream, using their hands to propel themselves at blinding speed along the ground like wild animals. Brig and I duck behind some barrels.
Another shot from Brig, while her free hand reaches in her vest for a glass bottle.
Another Skulk down.
I pull the trigger, blasting through the chest of the large skulk, which falls to the ground, but still claws its way toward me.
“Get down,” Brig yells as she tosses a flaming glass bottle toward the direction of four of the skulks just about ten steps away. Instantly the flames lick at their bodies and they scream like tea kettles reaching their boiling point.
“No!” Claude yells, “Not my daughters! I will not lose them again.”
He orders the other four skulks to come to his side as Brig and I reload our guns behind the barrels. We wait for them to come, but they don’t. Instead, they walk over to the figure wrapped up on the ground.
“Sledge!” I yell, jumping out from the barrel firing a shot that misses. “Brig! We have to help Sledge!”
We run full sprint as Brig throws a knife square into the forehead of the big skulk I had shot earlier. It manages to scratch at my leg but then twitches and collapses to the ground. Another shot from my rifle hits one of the four skulks in the leg, knocking it to the ground.
But we won’t make it.
We’re still at least ten paces away as the farmer raises his machete in the air, muttering something as he brings it down toward Sledges head.
“No!” I yell, making the other three skulks rush toward us. Brig throws another knife into the chest of a tall, gangly skulk with red, wispy hair.
It all happens in a flash.
Too quickly.
Sledge reaches his hands up, intercepting the swinging machete mid-strike. The blade flips back toward Claude and before he can shift his weight, he has already fallen on the blade, lodging it halfway through where his stomach would be. He falls to the ground near Sledge in a heap, while Sledge jumps off the ground and backs away toward where Rose stands.
The skulks freeze, unsure of what to do with their master now that his fresh blood spills to the ground.
Brig and I now walk calmly toward the scene with guns still held steady toward the skulks. But they don’t attack, instead they now turn on the crumpled Claude and tear at his cloak. Brig fires a shot in the air, and the skulks reach down with their claws, carrying their soon to be meal toward the forest as he screams and yells for help.
“Help me!” He calls out one last time. “They’ll kill me!”
Brig smirks, and replies calmly, lowering her gun to her side. “Sorry Claude. You of all people should know when to put your animals down.”
And with that, the sun rises on a new day.
CHAPTER 9
Every Rose Has its Thorn
“Breakfast!” Brig yells in a thunderous tone down the hallway.
We would get our farmer’s breakfast after all. Thick slabs of what I believe was bacon sizzled loudly in the still air, wafting a dense fog of meat and grease smell throughout the house. Egg shells cracked and the din of metal spatulas scraping a cast iron pan echoed against the walls. Round sausage links rolled around adding to the porcine aroma careening every nook and cranny of the house.
If you hadn’t seen the past hour of terror we all went through, you might think this was a celebration – well, I guess it was in a way. Every day survived now seems like some
thing to celebrate.
I tried not to look out the window. Tried not to think of the old farmer getting dragged off. More than that, I tried not to think about what our newest party member, Rose was going through.
Because it was unbelievably overwhelming.
Though she hadn’t said more than three words, Rose dug out her father’s food stash full of fine cheeses, meats, and even wines, which Brig swatted out of all of our hands, despite my protests that the legal drinking age wasn’t enforceable anymore. She said she needed our wits. But really, she needed to get to the Semper tribe within the next three days judging by how far the radiation had advanced past her knee. Supposedly, once it spread up to her abdomen, she would pretty much be a goner.
Another thing I tried not to think about too much.
“Gather round everyone,” Brig calls out. “Now, before you get breakfast, we all get assigned a place to raid.” Her gazelle face is tight, military-like, as if she were organizing a strike team. “We’ll draw these straws, and whoever gets the short one, gets to raid the bedroom.”
“No way!” I call out. “That’s where the...” I catch myself right before I say corpse. “…where the bed is…”
All too late I realize this was Rose’s mom, and I’m immediately shamed by the hurt in her eyes.
“Don’t be a jerk, Quinn.” Brig says, throwing the straws onto the table. “For that, you get to take the bedroom.”
I want to yell out, make a face, or complain, but I don’t. “Okay,” I finally mutter like a child just getting grounded.
The whole raiding thing was actually Rose’s idea. In the few words she spoke, as we readied to travel, she stopped us and told us where to find the most valuable things in the house. I figured that to her, the man who got carried away just an hour earlier was not her father anymore.
With tantalizing breakfast smells in the air, my throat tightens up as I make my way down the long hallway, trying my best to not look at all the photos hanging on the wall. When I get to the bedroom, I stare at the floor, making my way over to the safe Rose mentioned would be on the floor in the closet.
“Hey corpse,” I say. “Don’t mind me – just passing through, you know, taking your valuables and what not. Please don’t haunt me after this!”
On the bed lies a desiccated corpse, dressed in a night gown, the flowery covers pulled up tight around it like it was still sleeping, and it only makes me tiptoe so I don’t wake it. The stench fills my mouth even as I try to not breathe through my nose - It’s a mix of mothballs and rot, which is actually quite horrible.
Walking over to the safe, I bend down, and start to type in the numbers Rose had given me.
0-6-1-1-5-5. The mom’s birthday.
I shine my flashlight into the safe, and throw a pile of documents onto the floor. Rose asked for three things in particular – a ring, a photo, and a key. Anything else she said, I was welcome to have.
Wrapped in a small velvety box, I find a silver wedding ring with a large square diamond – her mom’s ring. Tucked behind that is a yellowing picture of her mom and dad, looking much younger and much more alive. Finally, I find a key hanging from a hook in the back of the safe, and as I reach down to grab it, something heavy rolls onto the ground.
Something shiny, and golden. A gold nugget?
Picking up a nugget about the size of a baseball, I stow it away in my backpack. Money may not matter anymore, but gold sure would – it always has. Rose did say I could take anything I wanted, so why not?
With my backpack noticeably heavier, I head through the doorway, taking one last somber glance at the room, and try not to feel bad about myself.
The corpse doesn’t wake.
My stomach rumbles to remind me how hungry I am.
┈┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈┈
“Hmmm…” Brig grumbles, turning a map in all directions. “Not good.” She pouts her lips to one side, mulling something over. “Not good at all.”
We’re sitting on a rock wall just outside of the farm as Brig surveys a map to decide where to go. Rose sits quietly, staring off toward some wheat fields, while Sledge and I throw some rocks across the dirt hills trying to see who can hit the most trees.
“What’s wrong Brig?” I ask, noticing the concern in her face. “Something I can help with?”
Brig frowns, her dark eyes going huge. “No matter how I try to cut out time, I don’t think we can make it in three days’ time, unless we walk about seventy hours without sleeping. We definitely could’ve used that extra day.”
Guilt hits both Sledge and I about having chosen the city and we stop throwing rocks.
I stand next to Brig, trying to look at the map, noticing there are only territories listed on it now. All the state boundaries have been erased. Sledge turns to Rose as he eyes her silently.
“What about this river?” I say pointing at a thick blue line snaking by the road.
“Nah, too dangerous, and it’d take too long to build a raft even if the rapids didn’t swallow us whole.”
“Hmmm,” I mutter. “No Ubers or Taxis I’m guessing?”
Brig laughs, though I was really half-serious.
“I’m gonna have a look around for a few minutes,” Brig says. “Maybe there’s something we can use around here.” With that, she turns sharply, folding her map up while shaking her head, walking off to one of the tractors.
I sit next to Sledge, nervously pulling out my phone out of habit. I decided to keep it off until I really need it, but somehow staring at the blank screen gives me some relief.
“Nice scars,” pipes up Sledge finally, peeking at Rose. Though she’s still covered in her full-length dress and shawl, her legs are showing, several deep cuts still fresh, and many more covered over with scar tissue. She only looks back at him with sullen, light brown eyes, her hooked nose flaring. “I have a pretty good collection of them myself.” He lifts the back of his shirt, showing a slew of wide scars lining his lower back.
Rose’s eyes widen and she looks down at the dirt quickly – probably the first time she’s seen that much skin.
Sledge continues. “Stepdad used to beat me almost on the hour for being lazy, for being stupid, for being all sorts of things that he was supposedly so much better at being,” he says, pulling down the front of his shirt, where a bunch of tattoos cover his chest. “These of course were from all the batons during my initiation into Semper tribe.” A bunch of round, raised keloid scars were smattered about his chest.
I hear Rose speak, much lighter and softer than I would’ve guessed from her history. “Didn’t it hurt? The beatings?”
Sledge chuckles sardonically, replying, “Every time, of course. But if you’ve been beaten enough, eventually you get numb to the beatings. Get less afraid. Just tune it out like a doctor’s appointment or a test.”
A moment’s silence as Rose stares at a sage brush nearby. Then she quietly speaks again, “Dad used to not abuse me, but after the bombs dropped and my mom was killed and sisters’ taken, I think it took its toll.” She stops for another few seconds, processing her next words – she wasn’t used to speaking this much. “He started yelling at me…then slapping, then the cutting started. He would say I should’ve joined my sisters, that I was shameful because they were taken and not me.”
Sledge and I glance at each other, and I motion with my fingers to keep her rolling. He speaks, “You do know though that none of that is true. That’s what I would tell myself anyway during the beatings. That one day, I would be on my own and I wasn’t stupid or lazy, but I would make something of myself.” He rests his hand on her knee, and she winces but doesn’t pull away. “He’s gone now, and you’re free. You can come with us if you want, or stay here – it’s your choice now.”
Her eyes widen and she breathes deeply, making her nostrils flare again. “You mean,” she whispers, “I can change my clothes?”
Sledge pulls his long hair back and nods in reply.
Rose squeaks and excitedly r
uns into the house, leaving Sledge and I to go after Brig.
“Nice job, man,” I say, patting Sledge’s shoulder. “You did a solid right there. Real Dr. Phil stuff.”
Sledge punches my arm, color appearing on his cheeks.
We find Brig kicking a tractor with her good foot while cursing.
“Hey Brig,” I say, making her jump. “Everything good?”
“I can’t find a damn solution in this damn farm from The Conjuring!”
“Brig,” I start. “We just took out a pack of skulks and a crazy old farmer along with a giant bear. We can definitely survive this, even if I don’t get my beauty rest the next few days. You can carry me while I sleep if worse comes to worse.”
“Ha!” Brig says, kicking dirt in the air. “Not on your dead body, kid. But for the record, I could carry you even with one bad leg for at least three miles – I know, because I did it once in Iraq.”
I look down at the bright red tractor, running my finger along its shiny paint. “Anything I can do?”
“Not unless you pee gasoline,” Brig replies, smirking. “I can handle hot wiring anything, but it looks like the tanks are empty. Maybe we can check the house again for some gas?”
We start walking over when we hear hurried yells. Sledge calls out to us. “Guys! Guys!” He is panting heavily by the time he catches up to us. “I was talking to Rose-“
Just then a transformed girl walks up, though still very humble looking, she wears fitted skinny jeans accentuating her curvy body with thick black ankle boots on her feet. A white tank on top, again showing off curves none of us knew she had. Her hair is tied up in a knot on top of her head. And a small semblance of a smile, with just the smallest amount of blush and lip gloss.
Rose nods to Sledge to continue. He says, “See, she has the key to the barn, and in that barn there’s the old truck the farmer told us about.” Sledge breathes in a little, catching up. “Supposedly, we can um, borrow that truck long term from Farmer Claude. He had the keys with him, so that’s one thing.”
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