Dead 10: Reclamation

by T. W. Brown

  Catie had not insulted the woman by feigning ignorance. Instead, she had simply stared at her and not said a single word. That had always worked on people in the past. If she sat there and said nothing, then they usually got intimidated and changed the subject. She should have known better than to try that with Aleah.

  “Kevin has never seen me as anything but a soldier. I have been his muscle, I have been his enforcer, and his sheriff. What I don’t think I have ever been in his eyes…” Her voice had faded as she simply could not bring herself to say the words.

  “A woman?” Aleah had no such reservations.

  That had opened a floodgate. The women had cried, laughed, and come to an understanding. The next day was that fateful argument where, out of the blue, Aleah blurted, “Oh, just kiss and get it over with!” Or something to that effect. They had kissed. And in that moment, the world melted away. Their romance had started slow, but it had burned hot and steady ever since.

  Even when they argued, there was something about it that was wonderful. And as the years fell away, it was clear that she had everything she wanted. Only, she began to realize that Kevin still had a hole. When the realization came, Catie almost broke down and cried. Kevin had been largely responsible for bringing her home. He had helped her create this safe place for people to live. But how could she not have seen sooner that he needed the very same closure that she herself had craved so desperately all those years ago?

  And that was why she began gathering supplies. On his celebrated birthday (he refused to say how old he was, but Catie believed he might have actually forgotten) she had all their friends come over to say good bye. He was going to have closure in this part of his life one way or the other.

  The trip had been an adventure of its own. In fact, Kevin had started to keep a journal. He said that maybe he would write a book about their adventures. He enjoyed the irony of the idea of being an author of post-apocalyptic fiction during the post-apocalypse.

  As the journey went from weeks to months, the two saw the best and worst of what had become of the country, of humanity. There had been a field in Iowa with bodies stacked like cord wood for no apparent reason. They had walked one stretch of highway where bodies were hung every hundred or so paces—each one with a placard around his or her neck announcing their supposed crime. On the other end of the scale, there had been the wedding they witnessed in the shadows of an old stately courthouse that was a verdant green from the vines that were climbing and wrapping around every surface. There was the morning they woke to a strange sound and watched as a massive herd of buffalo stampeded across an expansive plain. There were all those sunrises, many witnessed as the two simply held hands and took in nature’s beauty. Catie loved sunrise, it was a colorful promise of the potential awaiting in the new day.

  And now, she was alone again.

  Catie moved down one slope and followed the banks of whatever river ran through this area. She could hear the sounds of the camp as she drew closer and closer. People were going about their night with the blindness of sheep trusting their sheppard.

  Catie pressed herself into the ground when she reached the edge of the faint and flickering shadows created by this many people camping on an open parade ground. While they did not have bonfires or anything of that nature, there were a few lanterns or torches lit inside a handful of tents. Those would be the people who considered themselves to be in charge. Leaders that gave themselves a different set of rules than what everybody else was expected to follow.

  A figure was less than ten feet away. Judging by the way the person was moving with a deliberate slowness, she had to assume this was some perimeter security. It was that person’s misfortune to have drawn a watch shift in this location and on this night.

  Catie’s hand went to her hip and the knife she had. At the moment, it was her only weapon. She still could not believe that these people had handed her one. If they’d only known…

  Quick and quiet, she rose to a crouch and scuttled up behind the person. In a flash, she came up, wrapped an arm around the person’s face, effectively covering their mouth, and then drove her blade up and into the kidney. There was a muffled cry that died as the pain seized the person and made any sort of noise a near impossibility.

  Catie felt a bit of sticky warmth on the hand that held the blade. Once the person was still, she lowered the body to the ground and dropped back into a crouch. She never even bothered to look at the face to see if it had been a man or woman. She didn’t care. At this point, they were all sheep, and she was the new wolf in the field.

  As she reached the first tent, she paused. Inside she could hear a muffled voice. It had the steady cadence and supplicating tone of a man in prayer. Slipping down the side of the tent, she decided that it would do her some good to perhaps find a backup weapon. She cursed herself for not searching the sentry. She would go back if needed, but it could not hurt to check here first.

  Hugging the inky black of the shadows that had devoured the fringes of this camp that were farthest from that small cluster of tents with lights inside giving off a dull white glow, Catie moved with caution and paused at the entrance.

  “…and bring strength to our leaders as they steer us through these trials. Please forgive my sins and accept me into your kingdom when my time on this earth is finished…” the man was whispering fervently.

  Catie slipped in, covered the man’s mouth and slit his throat. This time, a geyser of blood sprayed, making a wet splat sound as it met the taut wall of the canvas tent. Letting the body drop, Catie briefly wondered if he had gotten the answer to that final prayer as she went about searching for any sort of weapon. She was happy when she found a bow and quiver of arrows. It was not the best quality, but she did not need anything special. In addition, she found a machete. Its rough construction told her that it had been made as some sort of batch weapon. Again, low grade, but capable of what she needed tonight.

  She left the tent and fixed her gaze on the cluster of tents that were lit. She did not care how many people she had to go through, but she would do it tonight; she would avenge Kevin and kill Erin Crenshaw.

  She tried to remember all she could about this girl. She remembered that she had been with Kevin’s people. She also knew everything from what Kevin had shared about how he had come to meet the Bergmans. The problem was that most of his stories were about the eldest sister Ruth, and then Shari. Erin’s name seldom actually came up except as a side note. The only story centered on her was the one involving the loss of the girl’s baby and the guilt Kevin carried for not having been able to save her.

  She recalled the girl staying when Kevin and his group left. She had not paid it much mind. Whatever had happened between now and then was a mystery. However, she decided that she did not care what she knew or didn’t know about this girl and her past. If all went well, she would be dead by morning.

  If it worked out that she was able to take out Cherish Brandini, that would just be a bonus. Catie moved silently through the camp. She had discovered over the years that large groups of people eventually fall into a false sense of security. This seemed to be the case here.

  Of course, they had just side-stepped a herd. When she had evacuated to that hilltop, she had seen that Erin was smart enough to send trailers on the heels of that herd to ensure that they continued on a course away from the camp they had made in the parade grounds of the Virginia Military Institute.

  As she passed one tent after another, she was actually finding herself becoming more and more angry. While it was unlikely that every one of these people had seen what happened to Kevin, she knew that plenty had watched it firsthand. Also, she had no doubt that word had spread. These people felt nothing in regards to that death. Well, perhaps they would feel differently when she was finished.

  A part of her wanted to slip into each and every single tent. One at a time, she would kill them all. But her rational mind forced her to dismiss that fantasy. It only needed to go poorly one time to stop her from he
r ultimate goal.

  At last, she was at the edge of the glow provided by those tents in the center of this sea of canvas. As she expected, there were armed sentries. The problem was that they were at the entrance to not one, but three of the tents. She would have to either risk playing a lethal version of the shell game or hope for a miracle where Erin would simply pop out for some trivial reason and reveal her location.

  Her mind allowed Kevin’s voice to filter in and remind him in that way he had. “This ain’t the movies.” She could not and would not hope for such a miracle. Then she heard a laugh.

  It was familiar. She knew the sound of a flirtatious Cherish Brandini when she heard it. That laugh was coming from the tent on the far left. If things were in a logical pattern, she would expect Erin’s tent to be the one in the middle. She would pin her hopes on that.

  Dripping back into the shadows, she circled around. Every so often, she would stop and check the sentries. Were they being vigilant, were they talking to one another? These were all things that she would need to know in order to give herself the best chance for success.

  At last she had worked her way around to the rear of the large tents. She waited patiently and was rewarded when the roving sentry walked past. She counted with a steady deliberateness to try and gauge the timing. Once she reached a hundred, she no longer cared. She doubted there was some kind of elaborate scheme where the guards came by at staggered intervals to eliminate somebody being able to time an attack. Hell, she was almost willing to bet that there was enough arrogance here that these people did not actually even expect one to ever occur.

  Knowing that she had at least two minutes, Catie waited for the sentry to pass before scurrying to the tent. She held her breath and listened. There was no conversation. That could be a good thing. If Erin was in this tent, and if she were to be alone, then this might actually work.

  Taking out her knife, she slowly worked it into the seam at the base of the tent. Once she had a good four or five inches, she laid down flat and tried to peer inside. Her heart slammed in her chest as adrenaline flooded her.

  Sitting with her back to where Catie had made the cut was her target. Even better, Erin was alone. She was seated at a small desk writing something. Catie knew her time was almost up, she crept back to her hiding place and waited for the sentry to pass once more. As soon as he or she rounded a corner and vanished, Catie returned to Erin’s tent.

  “…will become a light in this time of darkness. I invite you to join me, and together we can ensure that we never again suffer such a heinous attack. I realize this will test some of you, but just remember our lost children. And not just my own, many of you feel my pain at this moment as the wounds of that loss are still fresh. We have taken down one of their leaders, but we must not stop there…”

  Catie had heard enough. The woman was rehearsing a speech that Catie wanted to be certain was never given. She made a mental note to be sure and grab those pages as well. She would not want them to be discovered and used as some rally cry for these people.

  Her knife cut through another several inches of the base of the tent. Catie had to retreat once more, but she knew that she would need to make her move on this next trip. That slice could be discovered if Erin turned her head.

  As soon as the opportunity presented itself with the passing of that rover, Catie crouched and scurried to her handiwork once more. She laid flat and looked in again, using her index finger to just barely lift the tent. Erin was still at her desk, and currently bent over. This was where she would either succeed or fail.

  Lifting the bottom edge just enough, Catie held her breath and pushed her head in. For a split second, she considered just thrusting through and attacking wildly. She would never escape alive, but she would still have enough time to kill this woman with her own hands before help arrived.

  No, she was going to live. She was going to kill this woman and then return home to tell the others of his fate so that they could honor Kevin in a way he deserved. She knew that the people of Beresford would want to do that. Kevin had been well liked, if not loved, by the people of that community.

  Instead, she moved as slowly as possible so as to not bring attention to herself. Erin continued to write at her desk just about twenty feet away. Catie wondered briefly why a single woman needed such a large space and decided that it really did not matter. She was almost all the way through the cut she had created when Erin stopped writing. Catie had been watching her intently, looking for any sign that the woman might sense her presence or become aware that she was no longer alone.

  When Erin set her pencil down, Catie tensed. If need be, she would change tactics and charge this woman. There was no way that she would get this close and then fail.

  Catie was all the way in now, and Erin remained at her desk. From her vantage point, it now looked as if the young woman was reading her speech. Catie rose and shifted her location just slightly in order to be exactly behind Erin. She did not want the woman to catch sight of her in her peripheral vision.

  Knife in hand, she crept forward, one silent step after another. It took all of her self-control not to just charge and be done with it. Why was she being cautious? What did she have to live for? But she knew the answer to that question. It had been her final secret. One that she had intended to share after they made it official as to where they would settle down. She had not wanted Kevin’s mind to be clouded. She wanted him to make his choice based on his usual logic. Unfortunately, things had not worked out as planned and she had blurted it out when they had been captured.

  She only wished that she was far enough along that she could feel it kick or something. All she knew for certain was that she had a child inside her. Sometime in the last several weeks, maybe one night when they made love under the stars that lit the sky in a way that a person had to see to believe. It was a sight that she never tired of, and the fact that they had spent so many of those nights together these past several months was a consolation, although it did nothing to mitigate the loss she felt.

  She was two steps away when the woman set the pages down and stood. Catie had to act now. She closed the last few feet just as Erin turned. Before the woman could scream, Catie reversed the hold of her knife and punched the shocked woman in the throat, killing any possibility of sound that might have escaped as the voice box crunched under the blow.

  Like a viper, Catie struck again to be sure and used that forward momentum to grab the woman in her arms and guide her to the ground, sprawling on her with her body acting as a restraining weight. Catie brought a knee into the midsection as hard as she could. There was only a slight whistle of air escaping, and Erin’s mouth opened as if to scream, but not even the slightest squeak came from the effort.

  “Remember me, bitch?” Catie breathed in the woman’s ear.

  Erin just stared up at her, tears now leaking from the corners of her eyes. The confusion was enough of an answer. She had not made the connection yet. Well, Catie did not want to waste time. As much as she would have loved to make this woman suffer agony for a thousand hours and then a thousand more, she needed to act and then get out.

  “I am Kevin’s wife!”

  Realization flashed in an instant, but was only allowed to remain for a second before pain and fear shoved their way back into Erin’s expressive eyes. Catie smiled the smile of satisfaction and then brought her knife in and up. She felt the heart muscle resist for just a second before the blade pierced it. When Catie withdrew, blood came in a rush and Erin’s feet twitched furiously.

  Catie rose and looked down into the wide open and now empty eyes of her husband’s killer. Leaning over, she snatched the pages of the speech and stuffed then into her shirt. With only slightly less caution, Catie peered out into the darkness. She knew her night vision was wasted by the brilliant glow of the lanterns in the tent, but she waited long enough that she eventually heard more than saw the roving sentry walk past.

  Slipping out of the tent, Catie melted into the shadows.
The laughter of Cherish Brandini tempted her, but she had done what she set out to do. Now it was time to go home.

  DEAD returns

  April 15, 2015

  But turn the page for a sneak preview of

  DEAD:Snapshot—Portland, Oregon

  Coming soon…

  1

  It Begins

  “…as reports continue to come in, we will do our best to keep you informed,” the pretty blond talking head on the television said.

  Ken Simpson was not fooled in the slightest. He opened his hall closet and pulled the long, black case out from behind his array of coats, jackets, hoodies, and windbreakers.

  Walking in to his living room, he glanced out the huge picture frame window to the street. It was just getting dark and there were no signs of kids playing or joggers pounding the sidewalk. He was about to return his attention to the case when something caught his eye. It was the Calloway dog.

  Brandy or Bailey or some other alcohol related name. He never cared enough to remember, and that was a good thing. If Ken Simpson knew the name of a dog in the neighborhood, chances are it usually ended up with a pellet in the ass. This dog had never used his yard as its personal toilet. Of course that spoke more of the owner, Ken knew that. But, since he would probably have ended up in jail a long time ago if he’d been shooting the dogs’ owners instead of the dogs—

  The dog stopped suddenly and craned its head back over its shoulder. The animal bared its teeth, growling loud enough to be heard in the house. Ken moved to the door and opened it. The Golden Retriever paused and turned his direction. Its collar and leash were on, but the chunky balding man who he always saw at the other end of that bright pink leash was nowhere to be found.

  A low moan made Ken look down the street in the same direction the dog was looking. What he saw actually made his knees buckle just a little. The owner of the Golden Retriever was headed this way.