“Turn around slowly.”
“They’ll shoot you if I scream.” Martha managed through teeth that chattered with fear.
“Then we’ll both be dead,” the man in the darkness said. “If that happens, who’s going to help George?”
The light of the bouncing flame cast an eerie light as Martha slowly turned to face her captor. Her heart steadied measure by measure as she turned.
Martha wasn’t sure what it had been exactly. Maybe it was something about the way this man had said her husband’s name, but Martha knew now that this man was no stranger.
The glass slid down from her throat, and Martha was free to leave right there if she’d wanted. Free to scream, and bring soldiers running to her side. Looking down at the wounds, this man carried, she’d probably even get out of the cellar alive. Instead, she clucked her tongue.
“Evening, ma’am,” the wounded man said as recognition dawned on Martha’s face.
“I ought to take you over my knee and paddle you silly, Tyson. What in the world happened to you?”
“Came to a gunfight armed only with my charm, ma’am.”
“Well it’s no wonder you lost,” she said without pause. Tyson to give a short pained laugh.
“With who?” she asked.
Tyson’s eyes flicked upward. “Your husband is at the plant. He’s ok, but I’m afraid they’re all in danger.”
These men who had been eating her food and sleeping in her house might not be the good guys after all. Worse yet, they’d taken her guns away. She needed to get Tyson some help, and get somewhere safe. Only then could they do what they needed to do in order to help her husband.
“Tyson, do you trust me?” Martha asked curtly.
“Respectfully, ma’am?” the man wheezed, looking down at his injuries, “Not a lot of options here at the moment. But yes, I trust you. Why?”
Martha smiled. It wasn’t the cute motherly smile that typically graced her face. This was her wicked smile. She followed it up with a handful of words that held the potential for an infinite amount of mischief.
“We’re going to patch you up,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “You’re going to tell me every last detail of what happened. And then, I’ve got a cobbler to bake.”
Conclusion
All right. So you’re finished with “Episode 8” and wondering, “What next?” Why don’t you take a look at the other setting I write for, Running on Empty?
The first stand-alone short story can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00Y5O69ZM
Running on Empty: Preacher and Ghost – Tape #1
It’s been 80 years since a meteor strike plunged the world into darkness. Preacher and Ghost, two post-apocalyptic couriers that eek out a meager existence hauling packages from citadel to citadel, have found themselves a bit down on their luck.
With only a quarter tank of gas and a few shotgun shells between them and a life of indentured servitude at the light-farms, they resort to doing something they swore they’d never do; taking a job from a stranger.
What? You’ve already read that one?
Why not head over to my blog at www.thequattlebaum.com and register for updates? I’d love to keep you entertained with more stories soon!
Thanks again,
- Jordon
Breakdown: Episode 8 Page 5
