War, p.33
War, page 33
part #2 of A Journey Through Hell Series
“She’s got that crazy look, doesn’t she?” Drew asked, not wanting to shoot her.
“Afraid so.”
The shot reverberated through the woods and the woman fell dead.
They sat on the tracks for a while, letting Cass get it all out of her system.
“How you doing, kiddo?” Drew asked.
“I’m okay,” Cass replied.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
“Steve?”
“I’m good,” Steve replied.
They walked the tracks in silence and after a few miles Cass spoke up.
“Drew?”
“Yeah, Cass?”
“When we get down south, do you think we could check on my parents?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Drew.”
“You’re welcome, Cass.”
“Thank you for everything.”
“It’s what family does.”
Chapter 72
Newark, New Jersey
They spent most of the day walking the tracks and hunger was setting in.
“I think we should turn back and check out that last street we crossed. Maybe we can find some food,” Drew said.
Both Cass and Steve agreed, so they stopped and turned back.
Cass stepped up onto the one of the rails and putting one foot in front of the other started balancing herself on the rail. A moment later she started giggling and reached out for Drew’s hand. Holding onto Drew’s hand, Cass started picking up the pace with Drew right beside her. He was looking down, making sure he didn’t trip over a railroad tie, and laughed with Cass.
Suddenly Steve called out. “Guys!”
Both Cass and Drew continued on laughing and enjoying the moment.
“Guys!” Steve shouted again.
This time Drew heard him and turned around, letting go of Cass’s hand, who lost her balance and stepped off the track.
“There’s someone coming!” Steve shouted.
Instantly Drew whipped around and had the rifle off his shoulder.
Off in the distance, a man approached. He was too far away to tell if he was crazy or not.
“Drew! Shoot him!” Cass said.
“No! Wait!” Steve shouted. “We don’t even know if he’s crazy.”
Drew stood there like a statue; his sights locked onto the man approaching.
A minute passed, and the man continued towards them. Then something strange happened. The man began waving.
“Is he waving at us?” Cass asked.
“Jesus!” Drew said, lowering his weapon.
“What?” Steve asked.
“I think its Stan,” Drew replied.
They quickened their pace and soon they discovered it was Stan after all.
Before they were even done embracing and saying hello Drew asked where Annabelle and Stephanie were.
Stan told them how he fell out of the truck and when he turned around, they were gone.
“You did tell them that if we got separated to meet at South of the Border, right?” Stan asked.
“I did,” Drew responded.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find them!”
Chapter 73
Crescent City, Florida
Grandma and Betty-Sue scrubbed the blood from the hardwood floors and rung it out into buckets. Yesterday they buried their husband and son out back.
Billy sat in his room and cried. The pain he felt was indescribable, and he missed his father terribly. Remembering back to the dream he had of the little boy who warned him not to go downstairs and wished he’d warned his father. If he had, would his father still be alive today? It was such a heavy weight to bear for a child. The pressure was so draining that Billy couldn’t even think straight. He just wanted to go to sleep.
Grandma and Betty-Sue finished cleaning and rearranged the furniture to hide the stains they could not remove.
With glasses of lemonade and heavy hearts, the two women retreated to the front porch. They sat in silence and mourned together.
Lying in bed a warm glow surrounded Billy and he fell into a deep sleep. A man in white appeared at the foot of his bed and whispered, “For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.”
The warm glow grew, encompassing the room and a voice came from within the light.
Angel of God,
my guardian dear,
to whom His love entrusts me here,
ever this night be at my side,
to light and guard,
to rule and guide.
Amen.
The man bent over and gently kissed Billy’s forehead, leaving a small puffy mark. The man and the light dissipated leaving Billy’s spirit to mend.
A few hours later Billy awoke and headed downstairs. He avoided looking at the spot where his uncle murdered his father.
“We’re out here!” Betty-Sue shouted, hearing Billy come down the stairs.
Billy lumbered out onto the porch and collapsed into his mother’s lap, burying his head into her chest. She held him and they both cried.
“What’s this?” she asked, noticing the mark on his forehead as she wiped away his tears.
“I don’t know, Momma,” Billy said, burying his head into her chest and cried again.
Grandma rocked slowly in her chair, her eyes wet with sadness. The three of them all alone.
The tears stopped, but not the pain. They sat there together in silence and a cool breeze swept in across the field from the west. Goosebumps formed on Grandma’s arms and she pulled her sweater tight around herself.
Billy asked his mother if he could ride his bike, and Betty-Sue said yes.
The two widows sat watching Billy ride in circles around the house, and every so often he’d get a little unstable and the handlebar would wobble and shake. But round and round, he went.
Another chilly breeze blew and Grandma stopped rocking, staring off into the distance.
“What?” Betty-Sue asked.
“Someone’s coming,” Grandma replied.
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
Betty-Sue got up and went inside and retrieved the shotgun.
They waited with anticipation to find out who was coming their way.
As the stranger grew closer, more details about him emerged. He wore an all-black tee-shirt, blue jeans, a baseball cap and had shoulder-length blonde hair.
“Howdy!” the stranger said, walking up to the base of the stairs.
Just then Billy came zipping around the house on his bike. He stood on the brakes, skidding to a halt a foot from the man.
“Hey there, kiddo!” the stranger said.
Suddenly Billy froze, his face flushed.
“What is it, Billy?” Betty-Sue asked.
Billy didn’t answer. He just stood there looking frightened.
“Can we help you, mister?” Grandma asked.
The stranger tousled Billy’s hair and used his thumb and touched the center of Billy’s forehead. There was a singeing sound, and the man quickly pulled his hand away and stuck his thumb in his mouth.
Betty-Sue and Grandma exchanged glances.
“Well, I came to see Billy here. But it looks like somebody already beat me to it,” the man said.
“Mister, step away from my son,” Betty-Sue said, brandishing the shotgun.
“Well now! Is that very lady like?” he asked.
Betty-Sue racked the shotgun.
He held his hands up and took a step backward. “I see he bears the mark, so that makes him untouchable. But you two don’t have it, so I guess that makes you fair game.”
Grandma leaned forward in her rocker and said, “You’re no longer welcome here.”
The man whistled and said, “Alright lady!” He then looked down at Billy and said, “You remember what your daddy told you now. Stay away from those trees out back.”
“You heard her, leave,” Grandma said, getting out of her chair.
The man tipped his hat, turned, and walked away.
They watched him go until he was almost gone.
Grandma ambled into the house and returned with her bible and sat back down. Flipping through it, she finally stops, flips another page and runs her finger across the page and stops.
“What is it, Grandma?” Billy asked.
Chapter 74
Paxton, Nebraska
Maureen stood at the sink washing the potatoes that the boys plucked from the earth earlier this morning. The dirt instantly turned to mud and washed away down the sink. Bill and the boys finished putting the hay in the animal quarters in the barn. She looked up from the sink at the sound of her boys’ laughter. She watched out the window as they raced towards the house, each jockeying to be first. Maureen couldn’t help but smile at the boys’ laughter. Her mind drifted, and she thought back to her little brother. The scrawny little kid who used to pull her hair and run away. She wondered where he was now or if he was even alive. Her hands scrubbed the potato as Bill emerged from the barn, slid the big heavy door closed, and started towards the house. The memory of her brother faded when she noticed Bill had stopped halfway back to the house. Bill stood there with his hand to his brow, blocking the setting sun. Maureen felt something in that instant. She wasn’t sure what it was. Call it a woman’s intuition or some other form of perception, but Maureen felt it and something was wrong. Very wrong.
She dropped the potato into the sink and hurried to the screen door. The boys were just reaching the porch when Maureen stepped outside. “Go inside and wash up for dinner,” she ordered.
“Yes, Ma’am,” both boys said in unison.
She glanced to her left as she walked out onto the porch. Off in the distance she saw a man’s silhouette cresting the horizon. She turned toward Bill, who still had his hand to his brow along with a thousand-yard stare. Hurrying down the porch steps, she made her way over to her husband’s side.
“Who is it?” she asked as she stood next to him.
“No clue,” he replied.
The man with the shoulder-length blonde hair walked up the long drive. With each footstep, the first few feet of vegetation along the sides of the drive started to turn brown and wither. Each step left a wake, like a boat moving through the water. Each step brought him closer to the two people standing off in the distance.
“Howdy,” the blonde-haired man said as he approached.
“Can we help you, mister?” Bill asked with his head cocked to the side and one hand on his pistol and the other held up to his brow, blocking the setting sun.
“I know you, don't I?” asked the blonde-haired man.
“I don’t think so, mister,” Bill replied.
“No, not you. Maureen,” the stranger said.
Bill looked at Maureen, who was staring at the strange blonde-haired man.
Maureen felt like she knew the man. Like he was someone from long ago but just couldn’t place where from. Her mind raced, trying to place the man’s face and voice. She searched back. A memory from a lifetime ago came flooding back. It was from when she was a little girl and she and her younger brother shared a room. Suddenly she felt very afraid.
“Do you remember me?” the stranger asked.
Bill watched as Maureen's face went from a blank look to one of sheer fright.
It was something she blocked out. A nightmare both she and her brother shared when they were children. She was seven or eight years old and her brother was two or three at the time. The memory came flooding back, and she found herself in her childhood bedroom. It was pitch dark. There was a strange noise, like sheets rustling. She awoke and turned on the light. She found her brother talking to a sheet that hovered in the middle of the room.
“See, I’m an old friend of your brother, Drew,” the blonde-haired man said.
Bill watched as a look of terror washed over his wife’s face.
“He’s one tough mother fucker to kill. That damn free will thing keeps getting in my way. I wish He never provided that,” the stranger said. “But I’ll get him, one way or another.”
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Pestilence
Book 1
A Drew Murphy Post-Apocalyptic Thriller
Coming Soon!
Famine
Book 3
A Drew Murphy Post-Apocalyptic Thriller
E.M. Kelly
A Drew Murphy Post-Apocalyptic Thriller
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
E.M. Kelly lives in Massachusetts with his wife and daughter.
E.M. Kelly, War
