by Schow, Ryan
Amell had veered through traffic, most of it dead on the road or roadside, and he had to brave the rotten weather. He wasn’t foolish enough to ride in the rain most days, but without traffic to contend with, he found he could slow down, take his time, and aim his gun at people in the road who tried to stop him, or talk to him, or—heaven forbid—try to take his bike.
When he had finally reached NKU’s campus, it was to a handful of gawking kids. For the most part, he hated college kids those days. To him, they were wretched ingrates unaware of how the real world worked. Diesel said they were a bunch of entitled mouth breathing, account draining, self-serving turds, and Amell didn’t think he was wrong.
One kid, this nerd with perfect skin, curly hair, and thin birdlike features, was looking Amell’s bike over like it was on sale at the Yamaha shop. He opened his mouth to speak, but Amell held up a hand, then withdrew his big hunting blade and said, “If you touch it, I’ll turn you into a girl. Got it?”
The kid backed up and said, “Got it.” He promptly turned and walked away, heading nowhere in particular, just not there.
When Amell entered Leighton’s dorm, he breezed inside like he owned the place. He glanced left, he glanced right, and then he frowned at the sight of an unattractive girl walking toward him like the freaking Welcome Wagon.
“How can I help you, sir?” she asked.
“Who are you?”
“The RA,” she said. A resident assistant.
“I’m looking for Leighton McDaniel,” he said. “Is she still here?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m her uncle, Walker McDaniel.” She swallowed hard, looked him over, and frowned. “What, did you expect me to show up in a tux? Have you seen what it’s like outside?”
“I have.”
“Well, I’ve been tasked by my brother, Colt, to come up here and get her. He’s in Nicholasville, I’m not. I’m here, standing across from you, looking at you frowning at me, which is just fantastic, I might add. So please, just spare me your misplaced judgment and answer the question. Is. She. Here?”
She forced a smile, then said, “Down the hall, fourth door on the left. But I’m not sure she’s there.”
“Where is she?”
“Where is anyone these days? We’ve pretty much lost control of the kids, but don’t tell anyone I told you that, or…or…”
“Or what? They’ll fire you? There’s no job left for you to get fired from if you haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I kind of suspected that. So tell whoever you want, I guess.”
He waltzed past the RA without a smile or even a word of thanks, and then he walked to Leighton’s dorm-room door.
He knocked twice, then waited.
A girl opened the door, a cute brunette with a shapely figure and heavy makeup. She didn’t have blond hair, she wasn’t petite, and she didn’t look like she was from Kentucky. This girl looked like she’d risen from the grave and celebrated her reanimated life with powdered makeup and a gallon of ice cream.
“I’m looking for Leighton.”
“She’s not here,” the girl said, closing the door. He put his foot down, stopped the door from shutting completely.
“Hey!” the ghoulish creature said.
“Hey yourself, chubby,” he replied as he shoulder-checked the door open.
“I told you she’s not here.”
“So I’ll wait.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, backing up. “Who are you anyway?”
“Her uncle Walker,” he said.
“Yeah, right.”
“Oh, yes I am, Chandra.”
The girl flinched as if she didn’t like people knowing her name. “If that’s the case, what was the first gun you taught her to shoot?”
“A Glock.”
The ghoul seemed to relax. But then she said, “A Glock what?”
“Seventeen,” he said. It was the first model to come to mind. But the girl’s eyes filled with fear and he knew he’d said the wrong model. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need Chandra, only Leighton, and only to get Diesel’s stupid gun.
“Where did she go and when will she be back?” he asked, pulling out the hunting blade. Chandra saw the blade and swallowed hard.
“Her boyfriend’s house.”
“I need you to take me there right now.”
“I don’t know where it is.”
“I can start cutting off pieces of you if that will jog your memory.”
She swallowed hard, her face getting extra extra pale. “It’s not a memory thing. We’re not friends. I mean, we only started talking when all this went down. Before that…nothing. We barely even know each other.”
“But you knew she was at her boyfriend’s house.”
“Only because she told me that’s where she was going, not because we’re besties or anything.”
“Is he local?” She shrugged. “You give me an address, I’ll be on my way. You don’t, and I won’t.”
“You never went to college,” she said, eyes still on the blade.
“Gee, what gave you that idea?”
“You speak in incomplete sentences. It’s cute if I was into balding guys dressed as eighties bikers.”
“What’s his name?”
“Niles.”
“Niles, what?”
She shook her head, her eyes darting all around the room, trying to find an exit. Her only exit was when he cut her throat. Until then, if she decided she wasn’t ready to be forthcoming, then she was his for the duration.
“I don’t know his last name. I told you, Leighton and I don’t talk.”
He pushed the door closed behind him, started toward her. She backed up, but he kept coming. She bumped into a wall and squeaked.
“What kind of name is Chandra? You sound like an herb. Or a sexually transmitted disease. Like I’m itching my crotch one day and my old lady is like, hey, why you scratching your nuts and I say, I think it’s the Chandra.”
“You’re almost right,” she said, scared but trying not to show it. She was doing a terrible job. Failing miserably.
He took another step toward her. “I think Chandra is a skater’s name. Are you a skater?”
“No.”
“Not a skater, but a squeaker. You’re going to be Little Mouse. Tell me, Little Mouse, what’s your fancy?”
“Seeing scumbags walk away?”
“Mine, too.”
He took yet another step forward, this time moving into her personal space. It was just the two of them, and he was taller and meaner and far more capable than her.
“You smell sweet, but stinky also. Like you’re trying to hide your body odor with perfume or scented deodorant.”
With the smallest voice ever, she said, “Why has everyone suddenly a creep?”
“Because, in these times, we can be. Imagine all the unrestrained tendencies guys like me will now be able to unleash.”
“Freak,” she said, slipping sideways out of his space. She moved, but he countered her. She moved faster, got to the door, pulled it open. But he kicked it shut with a big boot, the doorknob ripping painfully out of her hand.
“Yes, I’m a freak,” he said, throwing her back into the room. “But not like you think.”
Holding her hand, fighting back the tears, she backed up into her bedroom and said, “Are you going to rape me?”
“It’s tempting, with those big ‘ol chesticles of yours, but not with all that makeup, Little Mouse. And not without you taking a shower first.”
“Showers don’t work.”
“Well, then it looks like we’re both out of luck.”
“Just you,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?”
Biting her lip, maybe grasping the inevitable, she took that one little moment and made it hers. The moment where she realized fate was conspiring against her but the real pain hadn’t started so she was still flush with false bravado. This was about to be her big shining moment. He saw it in her eyes.
>
“Maybe you could back up, your armpits smell like hamburgers, and your breath is like…butt. It’s like an unwiped butt on a swampy hot day.”
He slowly shook his head, all the humor in his eyes gone. Something came over him; rather, something fell away—his humanity. Or perhaps his restraint. Then again, it could be his sense of right and wrong. It had been a long time since he did what he truly wanted in this world.
He was excited to get started.
In a voice so scraping black and hateful, so void of mercy or empathy, he said, “I think I want to cut you now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Will Bennington
Will said goodbye to Ramira and Niles, then promised to return shortly. At the last minute, he asked Jacob to come with him, to at least act as a lookout if he didn’t want to carry a gun, but Jacob flat out refused. Having heard about the kind of violence being meted out in town, Will’s friend wasn’t anxious to put himself in the mix of chaos.
“I feel like letting you stay in my home is good-citizenry enough, my friend,” he’d said sheepishly. “But if you want me to go out there with those derelicts running loose, with them robbing and killing innocent people…yeah, no thanks.”
“If you’re scared, Jacob, just say so,” Will said, bothered about the man’s stance.
“Common sense is the opposite of fear.”
“True, but bravery counteracts fear, which is why brave people get awards, and polite people just sit around the house talking about common sense.”
“I’ll keep an eye on things here,” he said with a firmness Will understood.
“Well, I appreciate your hospitality and your daughter’s desire to help my son,” he said. “I’ll be back here as quickly as I can.”
With that, Will grabbed his coat and headed out.
The walk home wasn’t a long one or a difficult one. It was still cold outside, and a little rainy, but at least the winds had died down. And at least tornados hadn’t dropped down on Melbourne. But there was a lot of superficial damage to the neighborhood. Puddles were everywhere, mature trees in oversaturated soil had uprooted and fallen as a result of the windstorm, and all number of branches, brush, and garbage cans were strewn throughout people’s yards and driveways, and in some cases, out in the streets.
Will managed to make it all the way home without running into any of the Hayseed Rebellion, but he wasn’t counting his blessings just yet. There were still bodies all around his property, proof the HR had bitten off more than they could chew at the time.
When he saw his porch and the live bodies occupying it, he withdrew his pistol, held it at his side, and cautiously approached. When he realized he was looking at a girl and a child, and that the girl was Leighton, a relieved smile broke across his face, and he holstered his weapon.
Leighton saw him, got up, and started to cry. He took her into his arms; she held on for dear life. After a moment, he stood her at arm’s length, then looked her over. She had a knot on her forehead, scratches all over her face and arms, ripped clothes, and filthy hands. She looked like she’d been stuffed into a God-sized washer and run through a spin cycle full of dirt and grime rather than soap and water.
“What in the world happened to you?” he asked. Her only response was to start shaking, the tears now falling heavy. He hugged her again and said, “It’s going to be okay now.”
When she let go, she said, “The EMP took out my hearing aids, Will. I’m deaf again.”
Now he felt like maybe he better understood the depths of her fear. What had she gone through to get here? And who was this child with her?
Will faced her so she could read his lips and said, “I came back for some things. As you can see, we’ve had some problems of our own.”
“Is Niles okay?”
The young boy stood up, walked behind Leighton’s back, his little face peeking out to watch Will.
“He got into a bit of a gun battle with some opportunists, or anarchists. The Hayseed Rebellion, we think.”
“Those guys are the worst,” she said. “What about Niles, was he hurt?”
“He’s been shot, Leighton. Three times. He’s up the street with a friend of mine whose daughter is in med school. At least, she was. With the weird economy and all, things…you know, they changed for some people. Jacob—that’s my friend’s name—he hasn’t exactly seen good times lately.”
“Is he going to…make it?” she asked, wiping her eyes, obviously concerned about Niles.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to calm her with his words. “He’s just hurting. It’s just…well, the town has been sacked by the weather and now…now these guys.”
“I understand,” she said, clearly stricken by the news. “It’s been tough for a lot of people across the nation, but it’s not supposed to be so tough here.”
“The house has been compromised,” he said. “It’s not safe here.”
“Did he get any of them?” she asked of Niles.
Will nodded. “Enough. Or maybe not enough. I guess it depends on how you look at things. I prefer not to wish bad things on others, but lately, the boundaries of my manners and morals have been stretched thin. Part of me wants that Hayseed Rebellion pestilence to face a brutal end and rot in the bowels of hell for all time and eternity.”
He found himself breathing heavily at this revelation, the same way he would be breathing if he was about to get into a fistfight.
“I’m sorry,” he said, getting a hold of himself. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I killed one of them. Well, not one of the Hayseed Rebellion, but”—and here she looked at the child—“someone intent on doing me harm in the ways young women don’t want themselves being harmed.”
“My daddy kills girls,” the boy said.
Will stopped breathing, his attention on the boy, and then back up on Leighton. She didn’t hear what the boy said, for her face bore no expression at all.
“Do you know how the boy sees his father?” he asked her. She shook her head, watching his lips.
“He doesn’t talk.”
“He just said something, but I’m not sure I want to tell you what it was.”
She turned and looked down at the child. Getting down on her knees before him, she said, “What did you just tell this nice man?”
“I told him my daddy likes to kill girls.”
Will watched Leighton’s body make a slight jump. When she stood and turned to him, her face was pale, her eyes filled with fright.
“Did you know that?” Will asked.
“That he…did what he did…to girls?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“We found four bodies in his truck,” she said. “The kid and I confirmed they were all girls, all around my age or younger.”
“Is he still…you know…alive?”
She shook her head. He nodded in response, like he was pleased.
“It’s just as well.” Looking down at the boy, he said, “The only question for you, young man, is what do we do with you now?”
He shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t know.
“Are you hungry?” Will asked. The boy nodded. “Well, let’s see if we can get you something to eat then. C’mon inside.”
They started inside, then Leighton said, “What’s your name?”
She watched his lips for an answer.
“Buck,” he said.
Will wanted to laugh at such a young child having such a grown-up name. “Sounds mighty strong, like an oak.”
“My daddy said he named me after his ammo.”
Leighton shook her head, her body so still, so silent. Will understood the mental challenges of some, but he couldn’t quite grasp the sickness of others.
“We can’t be out on the streets during times like these,” Leighton said. “It’s not where good people congregate.” Standing up, she looked at Will. “This is where all the bad people come to play.”
“Well, when we get out of here, we’ll have to be on the s
treet for exactly three blocks. The sooner we can get out of here and over there, the better it will be for all of us.” To the boy, Will said, “You ready for a bite to eat, Buck?”
He nodded his little head, suddenly coming to life.
Inside, Will gathered up some food for Leighton and Buck, then he began collecting a few things for Jacob’s house.
Leighton saw blood all over the kitchen table, seemed to fight her emotions, then wandered toward the window where Will was happy to have her looking out for them. He’d just grabbed Ramira’s pillow when Leighton cried out.
“Will! We have a problem!”
He ran to the kitchen, snugged in beside her, looked out the window, and saw the trucks pulling up to the front of the driveway.
He turned to Leighton and said, “You and Buck need to run! Go out the back, make your way to the barn. There’s a storm cellar in there.”
He watched the men pour out of the trucks with shotguns. Leighton grabbed Buck, and the two of them left through the back door. Will ran to the rear of his house, grabbed the hunting rifle from the gun safe, then hurried out to the front porch and started shooting.
He dropped four of them, but the rest hustled into position and opened fire on the house. He ducked in the front door as the bullets shredded the wood siding and blew out the windows. The minute he saw the men converging on the house, he knew everything had changed. He put his chances of getting out of there alive at less than ten percent. They were actually a lot less than that.
Looking down, he checked his ammo stores, then set his jaw, looked up, and decided it was time to dig in for the fight no matter the odds.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leighton McDaniel
She hustled Buck into the barn, pulling out her Glock and racking the slide. She saw a round in the chamber but knew there were more of the HR than she had in rounds available.
What could she do? The house was indefensible against those numbers. She figured she could shoot some of these guys, take their guns, turn them on their brothers, but the landscape wasn’t right. They had a clear advantage.
Then they opened fire on Will and her stomach rolled right up into her throat. She found the storm cellar, opened the door, told Buck to get down there.
