Tears Of The World: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 4)
Page 7
Duncan began to direct the cleanup operation, shooting any and all that were left alive. He radioed the all clear to base, but when they didn’t answer, he figured they were on another frequency talking to the mortar unit. Sandra’s squad performed flawlessly, and he only wished his daughter was here to see it herself, but she had argued and won the right to oversee operations from the homestead. Where she was more useful. She knew what she was doing, she was a top notch soldier.
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Ken stood there in shock as he overheard Gerard’s men talking about the mummified corpse of the little girl upstairs. Something clicked, somehow the missing minutes filled his consciousness. Of him absent mindedly eating bite or two of her food while I promised her he’d bury her tomorrow. Of wiping down her corpse so the smell wasn’t so bad before covering her back up. Of crying for her loss. Missing moments, missing pieces, missing-
The blade cut deep and Kenny fell, his body suddenly numb. David stood there, his hands now empty and almost carrying a relieved Sandra to the table.
Kenny could see where he had gone wrong, why he couldn’t deal with what was going on. He needed to bury his daughter.
“Is he dead?” Blake asked, pulling his wife’s hands away to check her for wounds, there were none.
“He won’t be alive for long. You got him in the spine.” Sandra said walking to the cannibal.
For a moment, she marveled at the man, at his skill. She’d never been snuck up on and outclassed the way he had done so with her, going so far as sneaking into the house unobserved. Past all of their traps. If he wasn’t the epitome of evil…
“Please?” Ken coughed, Sandra rolled him to his side so she could see his face better.
“What?”
“Let me bury my daughter.”
Lisa had been frozen in shock, but she stormed across the room and picked up Ken’s dropped Bowie and plunged it into his heart.
“I want my son back,” she told him, holding the knife until his eyes went unfocused and the life left his body.
“Where’s Chris?” Blake asked, alarmed.
“I’m hiding under your bed. Is it safe to come out now?” His voice floated out from their bedroom.
“Did you see anything?” Sandra asked.
“I’m sorry dad, I hid when the bad man put the knife up to mom’s throat,” the boy said, starting to cry by the sound of it.
“I’m ok honey,” Sandra called, walking to the bedroom as David opened the front door and dragged Ken’s corpse out by his armpits.
Lisa was shaking, and she was sobbing. This moment had played out in her head a thousand times already. She expected to feel… Something other than relief. In a way, she hated that she just took a life, but she also told herself she needed to get the final blow in, for her son.
“Is he dead, truly dead?” Patty asked, coming from the basement.
Everyone had forgotten about her. In her mourning she barely came up to eat or use the bathroom.
“Yeah, he’s toast,” Blake told her bluntly.
From the open doorway, she could see David struggle to get him off the porch and he pulled a folded piece of laminated map out of Ken’s shirt pocket.
“Hey, that’s mine,” Patty yelled, running in her bare feet to get the map, the last piece of Neal’s inheritance there was, other than memories.
David gave it to her and smiled at the grateful look she gave him. He knew the smallest of things could make people happy and suddenly everyone was surrounding him and hugging him and patting him on the back. He stood there in shock and turned a full circle.
“You saved me,” Sandra said, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.
He turned forty shades of red and mumbled, “I hope Corinne didn’t see that,” which made them all bust up laughing. He walked back in and heard the base unit going off, Sgt. Smith calling. David sat down and listened to the message and turned to Sandra and Blake.
“The Sarge can’t reach central command. They have to bivouac somewhere and were asking for suggestions,” David looked at them hopefully.
Sandra locked eyes with Blake and Blake asked, “So how many people are in a squad?”
“Nine to twelve,” Sandra said smiling.
“Tell them we have food and a warm place to sleep. Have your squad show them in past the traps and have Duncan interview them, unless you want to do that?” Blake said, things coming together quickly.
“We can both handle that. David, make the invitation and let our folks know. Blake, you rest up, and maybe you and Chris should take it easy in the bedroom and let us clean things up in here.”
“I love you,” Blake said.
“Love you more, silly man. Go play a board game with our son. Shoo.”
Blake smiled despite the pain and made his way slowly to the bedroom where he eventually coaxed a scared Chris out from under the bed. Of all the games he wanted to play, Chris pulled out one of Blake’s all time favorites. Battleship. They played for nearly an hour.
“I one,” Blake said, the old joke still funny to him.
“You sank my submarine,” Chris said, crestfallen.
“Wow, really?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“Want to play again?” Blake asked.
“Yes please!” Chris’s enthusiasm for a new game overshadowed the loss and Blake wondered if this is how life was going to be like in this new world.
Were the tears of the world wiped away by the thought of a new beginning and a new start? He truly hoped so. The smile on Chris’s face warmed his heart and gave him hope.
“I one,” Chris asked, smiling wickedly.
“Hit.”
--The End --
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Boyd Craven III was born and raised in Michigan, an avid outdoorsman who’s always loved to read and write from a young age. When he isn’t working outside on the farm, or chasing a household of kids, he’s sitting in his Lazy Boy, typing away.
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