The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade

by Demers, J. D.

  “How do you do it?” I asked softly. “How do you…accept death? How do you kill people? Why do I feel so horrible and you…you just don’t feel?”

  Fish’s expression darkened.

  “Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “Kid, I feel every bullet. Every life, be it friend or foe. I’ve felt them for decades.”

  I watched him. His jaw clenched, as he stared blankly at the floor.

  “I pull it in. I deal with it. I loathe myself for it.”

  “So…why? Why so…hard? How can you just ‘do’ what you did yesterday? Or to Daniel? Or Gonzo? You’ve killed people without a pause or thought. I…I don’t know how. I need to know how…”

  Fish raised his head and stared at me. His eyes grew cold and distant.

  “You couldn’t pull the trigger, kid. Hell, I didn’t want you to pull it.”

  “But since you can, you did,” I stated.

  “Because, if I don’t, you…or one of them,” he said, glancing at the walls, “will have to. Every time one of us has to be put down, or dies, or we have to…kill, it tears away a piece of our soul. The difference between you guys and me is I already…” he stammered, unable to complete what he was going to say. “I…I would rather you didn’t, that’s all.”

  “You think you’re immune,” I said, seeing the Reaper clearly. “You think that since someone has to die, that something bad has to happen, you should do the dirty work because it doesn’t affect you.”

  “Something like that,” he said uncomfortably.

  “You’re wrong, Fish. It does affect you, or you wouldn’t be sitting here now, drinking away your problems.”

  “What of it?” he grumbled. “The difference is, I can deal.”

  “Eventually, I’m going to have to…” I sighed. “And you’re going to have to let me.”

  He frowned and then nodded.

  “Maybe. This world isn’t getting any prettier. Sooner or later…you’re going to have to pull the trigger.”

  We sat there in silence until the sun rose. When the others woke, I left, avoiding their stares and concerns. We would be at that house for quite some time, letting Enrique and Trinity heal enough to continue on. I would have time to deal with them as the days came and went.

  I found Trinity still bundled up and chained on the second floor and told her what happened. She had already heard. There was both grief and relief in her eyes when we discussed our father.

  I may have failed when it came to my dad. Failed Preacher by letting him come with me. But I saved Trinity, both in spirit and in mind, if not in body. She, or some former splinter of herself, had come back. She would never be the same girl I grew up with. No. That girl was gone forever. But she wasn’t the same woman I had ran into when we first came to town either.

  I avoided everyone else, including Jenna and Karina. For some reason, only my sister and Fish seemed to understand me. Campbell openly viewed me with disdain. There was no doubt he blamed me for Preacher’s death. I wouldn’t take the fall for that, though. Preacher made his own choice, be it because he was a fool or because God told him to protect me.

  No, Preacher died a hero, but he did so because he chose to, not because I forced his hand. I would not let his memory become one of regret rather than bravery and conviction.

  But, Preacher was wrong. Love doesn’t always bring good things. That would be a lesson I wasn’t done learning.

  Epilogue

  So, now you know why I am immune. Well, at least Doctor Tripp’s best guess. She never really got confirmation on that.

  The zombies outside became more active once the sun fell below the horizon. Hopes of running away on foot are quickly diminishing. I’ve had minimal protein and practically no water. Even if I got one or the other, without a sufficient supply of both, I would die a mile away from this small, desolate town.

  I hope Preacher was right, and that this was God’s plan. I can see him now. Preacher, sitting up in heaven, staring down at me. I wonder if he would think his sacrifice was worthless since I will probably die here? Alone, in some godforsaken building planted in the middle of the desert.

  Probably not. Preacher always tried to see the brighter side of things. I could use a miracle right now, Preacher! Can you hear me?

  ***

  You won’t believe it, but right after I wrote that, thunder erupted in the distance. Literally. Clouds are approaching from the west and I can see flashes of lightning rippling through the sky.

  I just spent the last hour rigging up a water collection container and setting it just outside the window. I can smell the rain approaching. I have two more containers I can use, and I’ll be taking them to the roof if and when the rain starts.

  Thanks, Preacher.

  I better get going. If rain does fall, it could move through here in a flash and I need as much water as possible. I can’t tell you what tomorrow will bring. If I’m still here and can’t find a way out of this predicament, I will write more.

  Until then, farewell.

  Christian Hunt

  About the Author

  J.D. Demers

  J.D. Demers served in the United States Army as an Intelligence Analyst for five years. After he was honorably separated from service, he continued to serve his country as a civilian Department of Defense Contractor for another seven years. Since then, he has returned to his hometown in the State of Florida.

  J.D. Demers has been writing since he was in High School. His interests mostly gear him toward Science Fiction, though he does enjoy Politics, International Affairs, and History.

  www.facebook.com/authorjddemers

  www.jddemers.com

  www.twitter.com/jacob76dem

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