100 Days in Deadland (part 1 of the Deadland Saga)

Violence (Chapter 16)

VIOLENCE: The Seventh Circle of Hell

Chapter XVI

I gripped the baseball bat as I fell to my knees. The house was nothing but a charred framework and a pile of burning ash and blackened debris with still-glowing embers.

This farm had become my home when the outbreak hit. It was a fortress. I was safe here. Months of hard work, the supplies, weapons, all the food we’d stored, gone.

It made no sense. Clutch had willingly joined the Dogs. Why would they destroy his farm? They wouldn’t do something like this to one of their own. Which meant…

“No.” I had to lean on the bat to keep from collapsing.

Clutch was dead.

I clenched my eyes closed. If only I’d gotten here earlier. If I’d returned to the farm last night, I could’ve prevented this somehow.

I chortled. Who was I kidding?

Like I could’ve single-handedly held back the Dogs.

Furious, I pulled myself back to my feet. In the distance, I saw two men with shaved heads leaning against their truck parked in the lane several hundred feet away. Too far away for me to overhear their conversation. I looked for more Dogs but found none.

I heard a rustle to my right and saw three zeds encircle me, groaning through jaws that no longer worked. They were badly burned, their arms and faces charred.

I grabbed the baseball bat and swung, crushing the first zed’s skull like it was a T-ball. The second zed was on me too quickly and I kicked its ankles together, knocking its feet out from under it. I left it floundering on the ground, while I swung at the third, nailing it in the chest. The force knocked it back, and my second swing crumpled its head.

After smashing the zed on the ground, I turned back to the house.

All the food, weapons…gone.

Everything Clutch, Jase, and I had built was destroyed. The Dogs had burned the fuel tanks, and it looked like the explosions took down two of the three sheds. Only the smallest shed still stood, though its door was open, and I suspected any valuable contents gone. They’d even slashed the tires on the poor Prius.

After giving the house a final brokenhearted look, I headed past the burnt gardens, careful to keep the still-burning house between the Dogs and me, and cautiously around the backside of the largest shed, held up only by Clutch’s combine. Feathers littered the ground, though I couldn’t find any sign of the chickens.

Coming down on a knee, I pulled at the tin and debris as quietly as possible. Blood dripped from my hand. When I finally pulled away the last bit of plywood, I sighed in relief.

The Dogs hadn’t discovered Clutch’s TEOTWAWKI bunker.

I opened the round door and climbed down a few steps. With one final look around, I noticed the Dogs were still lounging by their truck, and I tugged the plywood up so it’d cover the bunker door.

“Damn Dogs,” I muttered before shutting the door and descending into the darkness.

Knowing I was secure, I curled up on the floor and slept.

 That was, until the door overhead opened.