by Rachel Aukes
After a stalled silence, he mumbled, “Thanks.”
I motioned him up. “Let’s grab some fresh air.”
Jase followed me outside. It wasn’t yet time for lunch, so we walked the perimeter, checking Clutch’s simple yet effective early-warning systems.
“You’re lucky you found Clutch,” Jase said as we walked.
“It wasn’t just luck,” I replied.
“What do you mean?”
I kneeled, checking a tripwire. When I stood, I faced Jase. “My mom always hated that I didn’t go to church.” I smiled, remembering how she scolded me. Then I sobered. “I was never what you call a true believer so once I moved into my own place, I quit going through the motions. I don’t know why I’m still here when so many good people aren’t, but I think there had to be something more at play than just luck when Clutch pulled up and took me in when I needed help the most.”
“You’re saying it’s a miracle or destiny or something like that why Clutch saved you?”
“Is that any different than luck?” I scanned the yard one more time and then headed over to my tree.
I pulled out my blade and began practicing. Jase sat off to the side, watching me but more often watching the mound of dirt a couple trees down. There was nothing I could say. He needed time, and I hoped that with time, he’d heal.
“Can I get weapons, too?” he asked while I stabbed.
“Ask Clutch,” I replied. I’d give him weapons if I could, but it wasn’t my place. Every weapon here belonged to Clutch, except for the two he’d given me. If and how he distributed his weapons was up to him. “Now, keep an eye out for zeds.”
The rhythm came easier today, like my body remembered the motions from last night. Muscles in my biceps and thighs reminded me that I needed to get in better shape. And I worked at doing exactly that.
After about an hour into my workout, I had to tape up the sandbag because it’d been thoroughly shredded. With the bag wrapped in silver, I went back at it.
“Put your left leg forward a bit more. You’ll be less likely to be knocked off balance.”
I jumped to find Clutch behind me. He’d shaved and had changed clothes, though he wore as many guns and knives as usual.
I turned back to the tree and spread out my feet. After a few awkward stabs, the wider stance put more strength into each thrust.
Jase clapped. “Looking good, Cash.”
“Now come at me,” Clutch said.
My eyes widened, and I held up the tanto. “With a knife?”
He chuckled. “I’ve been watching you. I’m not worried.”
My attack was hesitant, and he scowled. “Damn it, Cash. You can do better than that.”
My next attack wasn’t much better, but as I got more and more aggressive, Clutch had to work at avoiding me.
“Better,” he said. “But you need to remember that evasion should always be your first choice. If you’re forced into an attack, defensive maneuvers are more important than taking the offensive. Zeds will come at you with their teeth and hands. Looters and common criminals will be worse because they can think and use weapons.”
The next time I attacked, Clutch swung out, and I barely jumped out of the way in time. I was thrown off balance, and he knocked me down with a kick from behind.
“You’re relying too much on your weapon. Put it away, and focus on your body. You need to be able to protect yourself using just your hands and whatever is readily available.”
I sheathed the blade and spent the next hour alternating between getting my ass handed to me and watching Jase get his ass handed to him by a seasoned military vet. I was on the ground more than I was on my feet. Clutch was relentless. Once, I nearly got the upper hand with a self-defense kick to his knee, but he jumped back before my foot connected. In return, I got a well-placed hit to my solar plexus.
I collapsed to the ground next to Jase and sucked in air.
Clutch took a seat on the grass next to us and rubbed his shoulder. “Tomorrow we’ll head a few miles out and practice shooting.”
“I can shoot,” Jase quickly offered up.
“What’s your weapon?” Clutch countered.
“I’m a decent shot with a rifle. I’ve hunted both deer and ducks before.”
“Well then, we’ll see what you can do,” Clutch said.
I lay back on the soft grass, staring up at the clouds. Lying there, I realized that even though Clutch was no longer on active duty, he’d never really left the military. He was a Ranger—he had to be one of the best in my mind—and I think that was how he defined himself. Though, I suspected his nightmares came from the tours he’d served. Driving the truck, farming, those were just jobs. Clutch was a soldier. He worked out every day as though he were still in the military. And now he expected the same from Jase and me.
Every part of me felt bruised, while Clutch wasn’t even breathing heavily, though I knew his joints ached at the end of each long day. Cracking my neck, I glanced at Clutch who was cleaning his nails with his knife. I noticed his nose had a bump from where it had been broken.
Under his gruff exterior, I could tell he was fiercely protective of me and now Jase. Clutch would’ve made a great father, that was, if he could’ve tamed his militant ways. Then I realized, for all I knew, he was a father. “You have any kids? A wife? Girlfriend, maybe?”
The knife paused, and he looked at me. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Clutch had a hottie around for a while,” Jase chimed in. “I saw you two in town a few times. She was blonde, curvy, and…” he whistled.
After a minute, Clutch sighed. “I never found someone I wanted to settle down with.”
A wide grin spread over my face. “See? Sharing isn’t so hard now, is it?”
He smirked before looking up to the sky. “Looks like a storm will be rolling in later.” He pulled himself up, held out a hand, and helped me to my feet. “Not too many folks know about the warehouse for Doyle’s military surplus store, but someone will come across it soon enough. It’s too close to Camp Fox for it to be missed. I want to get a truckload or two while we still can.” He glanced at Jase and me for a moment. “I could use a lookout.”
My brows rose with hope. “I’m in.”
He turned to Jase. “Think you can hold down the fort?”
Jase jumped to his feet. “You can count on me, sir.”
“I’d better show you what to do in case anyone or thing shows up.” They started to head off, and Clutch paused, turning to me. “Meet at the truck in fifteen.”
“Wilco,” I replied with a grin and a salute. Knowing this was my second chance, I took off at a jog to get ready.
Fifteen minutes later, I leaned against Clutch’s truck, holding on to a two-foot-long bolt cutter. When Clutch appeared with weapons and the backpack he always carried, I nodded toward the house. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Kids are resilient. Give it time. He’ll get there.”
We climbed in and headed down a different gravel road than we’d driven down the day before. Fields of black, waiting to be planted, went on for miles and miles.
“Where’s this surplus warehouse?”
“It’s southeast of town. At an old farmers’ co-op,” he replied.
We drove along for a while, past several farmhouses. I saw only one zed wandering in the fields, but I think I saw another one standing at the window inside one of the houses we passed.
The winds had started to pick up, almost whistling through the truck. Then I saw something. “Wait,” I said.
Clutch slowed. “What is it?”
I pointed to the big galvanized corn bins. “I thought I saw someone.”
“Zed?”
I shook my head. “A woman, I think. She was running too fast, but she must be running from something.”
Neither of us missed the two men sprinting toward the bins next, also far too fast to be lumbering zeds.
Clutch’s jaw clenched. “S
onofabitch.”
A woman’s scream pierced the air, and I gasped, cranking my neck to try to see anything.
“Fuck.” He yanked the truck into the driveway, throwing me against the door. He reached for the shotgun. “Stay here and stay low. Whatever you hear, do not let yourself be seen.”
“Okay,” I said, frowning.
“Is the safety off the .22?”
I pulled out the pistol and checked. “Yes.” I also unsnapped my knife’s sheath.
“Stay out of sight.” He gave me one last look and then jumped out of the truck and flattened against the side of the bin.
I moved the seat back as far as it could go and crouched on the floor, holding the gun in one hand, and the bolt cutter in the other. The driver’s window faced the bin, but from my low vantage point, all I could see was metal and sky.
Shouts and gunfire erupted, and I tried to make myself invisible. Then…silence.
A minute later, Clutch opened the door and I jumped up. “What happened?”
“I took down both tangos, and I’m going to check out the other buildings in case they weren’t alone. Stay put.”
“And the woman?”
He grimaced, and then slammed the door.
I retook my position on the floor and waited. Was she dead? Whatever it was couldn’t have been good because Clutch had looked enraged. I wanted to go check on the woman, to see if I could help, but I didn’t want to break my word to Clutch even more.
After three minutes ticked by, my muscles began to cramp. The door snapped open behind me, and before I could turn, an arm wrapped around my neck and yanked me from the truck. I tried to yell out but couldn’t breathe. I struggled but was only pulled harder against my assailant.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here,” an unfamiliar male voice whispered in my ear. His breath reeked of booze and his body stank of sweat.
I swung the bolt cutter behind me, and he cursed. His grip relaxed enough so I could suck in air. I twisted around and swung again. But, this time he was ready. He caught the bolt cutter and wrenched it from my hand. I went to punch him, but he grabbed my wrist and jerked me tight against him as though we were slow dancing. He chuckled. Shivers covered my skin. The winds howled around us.
I looked up into the face of a man with a half-grown beard and greasy hair. He pulled me even tighter against him while he licked my cheek, and I winced. “Oh, we’re going to have fun, you and me.”
He threw me to the ground and fell on top of me. My face was shoved into the dirt. Panic blurred my vision. He was too busy grabbing at my pants to notice that I still had the pistol. I couldn’t get onto my back, but when he yanked on my cargos, I was able to aim it under my armpit. I fired, and he cursed, jumping back. “Wha?!”
I spun onto my back and fired three more shots. The first shot had only startled him. My next three hit him solidly in the chest and stomach. It was different than in the movies. There was no blood spray, only three red dots growing on his shirt. He looked down and frowned as though he hadn’t felt any pain.
He looked up and he face turned red. “Fucking bitch!” he yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. He tackled me, punching me in the face, and—blinded by white and black stars—I pummeled his head with the gun handle. I kept pounding his temple until he fell lax. With a grunt, I kicked him off me.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position, gasping and spitting blood, unable to see through the stars. Every inch of my face hurt. He’d very nearly knocked me out. As my tunnel vision slowly widened, I could see Clutch running toward me. When he got close, he looked at me and then at the guy who was already starting to come back to consciousness. I struggled to aim my gun, but Clutch was in the way. He kicked the man in the gut and then fired two shots at my attacker’s head.
Clutch knelt by me. “You okay?”
I came to my knees, spit out some more blood, and ran my tongue over the nasty cut on my lip. “I need a bigger gun.”
He belted out a single laugh, helped me to my feet, and held me up until the wooziness passed.
I rubbed my cheek. “Damn, that guy hit like a sledgehammer.”
“He’s had plenty of practice.”
I looked up at him, but he was scanning the area.
“The woman…” I said.
“They hurt her. Bad.”
Shivers crawled over my skin. There were too many victims of the zeds already. Adding more unnecessary victims poured acid onto my emotions. I looked over at the guy Clutch had put down. “I’m glad you killed him.”
“Some folks need to die.”
A flurry of movement caught my eye, and I turned to see another man run toward a truck in the distance. “Clutch!” I yelled, wincing at the sharp pain in my cut lip.
Clutch turned, a look of unadulterated fury washed over his face, and he bolted after the man.
The guy was a couple hundred feet away. My .22 was worthless at this distance, so I ran for the truck, jumped in the driver’s seat, and gunned the engine, kicking up pebbles.
Clutch was closing the distance, but he was still too far away. The man had already climbed into a dusty blue minivan. Clutch kept running even ass the vehicle cranked around and sped directly toward him.
Clutch stopped, took aim, and fired at the windshield. Buckshot fractured the glass. The minivan was going to hit him head-on, but he fired again. I was on my way to T-bone the van, but I wasn’t going to get there in time.
At the last second, Clutch dove to the side.
I floored it to intersect the van, but it sped away, spinning out on the gravel road before straightening and tearing away from us.
I stopped, got out, and ran toward Clutch.
He was already on his feet, checking the shotgun.
“Are you okay?”
“Fucker got away.” He grimaced. “I didn’t recognize him, but he knows that there’s someone else out here now. We’ll have to be on our guard.”
“If we hurry, we might be able to chase him down.”
He shook his head. “It’ll draw too much attention. We’ll find him again.”
I nodded tightly, and then looked at the bin and started walking.
“Cash, you don’t need to see that. I’ll take care of it.”
I kept walking. The girl wasn’t far away, just out of the line of sight from the truck. She was covered in dried blood and bruises, making it impossible to tell her age, but she looked young. Probably hadn’t even graduated from high school yet. Could’ve been one of Jase’s classmates, even. Her nose was broken and one arm was bent at an unnatural angle. All the skin had been scraped from her knees.
She was nearly naked, her skin sallow. The wind flapped the tatters of clothing left on her. Her poor body looked like she’d been abused and broken since the virus outbreak started. She belonged in a hospital. Now, without doctors and medical technology, there was nothing that could be done. She lay there, one eye swollen shut, staring into nothingness. It was a blank stare. I thought she’d already died, but then she blinked.
I realized that it was only her spirit that had already died.
A tear trickled down her cheek. I came down on a knee and wiped the tear away with my thumb. I found it hard to breathe, like a fist had wrapped around my heart.
She tried to speak. Her pale, broken lips moved but no sound came out.
I pointed the pistol at her temple. “I’m sorry.” They were the only words I could manage to get out without choking.
She closed her eye and gave a weak smile.
I held the .22 as close as I could get it without touching and pulled the trigger. The blast made me jump, and I let out a sob.
I came back to my feet, staring at the girl, her destroyed features now relaxed.
Finally, she’d found peace.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I knew Clutch stood at my back. I had a protector, something this girl had never had. The first raindrops landed on her, creating shiny trails through the blood and grime. I
turned my face to the sky to let the cool rain wash away my tears. But the rain could wash away neither the sins nor the memories of what had taken place here today.
HUNGER: The Third Circle of Hell
Chapter VI
“I agree,” Clutch said as we shoveled mud into the hole where Jase’s parents now rested. “Zed sludge is the foulest odor in the world.”
I would’ve chuckled except I was still too focused on breathing through my mouth, my bandana doing little to block the stench. The mud stuck to our shovels, making the process tedious, but we both agreed that Jase needed to know that his parents had received a proper burial.
“I’ll finish up here. You want to finish loading the truck?” Clutch asked.
“Gladly,” I said and jogged away before Clutch could change his mind. I sucked in fresh air, though hints of decay still saturated the air.
Jase had made one hell of a mess in the living room. Frank’s wife hadn’t been too nasty, just a zed corpse with a headshot in the earliest stages of bloating. But Frank could’ve been an extra in a horror film. His head had been nothing but pulp, and from his chest up, he’d been covered in dried blood and sticky brown goo. The blood, if I had to guess, was canine.
Propped outside the front door sat bags and boxes filled with everything we’d found useful in the house. I grabbed the other two rifles Jase had told Clutch about and slid them behind the front seat before loading the remaining food from the cabinets and supplies into the back of Clutch’s black pickup truck.
This morning, Jase had also asked for us to grab his Xbox, and Clutch snorted out a “hell, no” before going off about how we were about to find ourselves in the dark ages. I grabbed the Xbox, anyway.
By the time I’d loaded the last bag, Clutch was headed my way.
He tugged down his bandana and didn’t look happy. “Ready to hit the next stop?”
I swallowed and gave a tight nod.
Neither one of us spoke on the drive to the corn bin where we buried the girl. We strung the bodies of her assailants together with a tie strap and propped them against the corn bin.
Finished, I pulled out a can of red spray paint I’d found at Jase’s house and painted large letters on the bin above the men: R-A-P-I-S-T-S.
