Working on a new story post.

I would like to apologise to my few readers for not getting a story post up in a while. Been very busy and just have not had a lot of time to sit down and put anything down. But I am curretnly working on the next chapter.

Land of Shadows: Chapter XXII - A Bad Day

Jonas squatted on the pot trying his best to take care of business. But it just was not happening. Not like yesterday. Damn that dump had almost been a holy experience. He felt like friggin Superman for an hour afterwards. Like he could have run down to Park City or maybe even as far as Wichita and trotted back. But struggle as he did all he produced was one little minnow of a turd and that made that God Damned hemorrhoid itch like mad. He wiped his ass and then with one jagged thumbnail proceeded to dig at that sum bitch. He hit it just right and it was almost as good as sex. Not that he knew much about that lately. His wife had died eight years ago, screaming under the claws of a nightmarish Hell spawned thing. He dug at the hemorrhoid for a bit longer before wiping his thumb on the hem of his jeans.

Uncontrolled diabetes had rendered him impotent years ago. His feet were a constant pain and his digestion frequently troubled him. Scratching that damn hemorrhoid was damn near the only physical pleasure left to him on this cursed world. And now he was constipated again. He dumped a pitcher of old wash water in the toilet to flush it and went to see if that no good daughter of his had fixed supper yet. At twelve she was shaping up quite nice. A real pleasure to look at. At times he could even feel a stirring in his loins as he watched her, but his impotence was saving her from that at least. It didn't prevent him from giving her the back of his hand when she pissed him off, or just happened to be in the wrong place when he was in a bad mood. Like now.

The kitchen was quiet, empty and cold. It would be at least an hour before dinner could be ready.

"Damn that lazy child!" he muttered to himself as he went to the back door. She was spending more and more time out wandering lately. Especially in the winter when the monsters were holed up somewhere. She had probably gone out back to check on that runt piglet again. He would take the axe out there and put a stop that tonight. The sun was going down so he decided to take his rifle. There was snow on the ground, but you could never be too careful.

Standing on the back porch he could tell that she was not in the barn. The lights were all dark and there was no way she would be out there in the dark. At twelve she was still afraid of the dark.

There were a lot of factors that could have caused the closing of the day to end differently for him. He could have looked to east first and not seen the silhouette of the stranger on horseback, his daughter might have decided not missing or the generator might not have picked that time to quit. But the single factor that might have changed things the most would have been if he had just been able to take a decent dump tonight. That always put him in more pleasant frame of mind.

He would tend to the generator after he had dealt this this interloper. Probably just out of gas or something simple like a clogged filter. But it was just the perfect topper to an already crappy day. Right now he was pissed off, his daughter was nowhere in sight and here was this approaching stranger. He had to vent on somebody and here the Lord had supplied him with a perfect target.

As he watched the man come down off the highway he crept over to the corner of the house so he could watch him without being seen. He quickly crossed over to the remnants of the mobile home that squatted on the property to the west of his. He circled behind it and peeked out again.

The man had dismounted the horse to better navigate the maze of trucks and and broken down tractors in the yard of the house across the road. He crossed the road quickly and the man was still unaware of his presence. He seemed to be making his way directly to Jonas' house. In his paranoia he believed that he was probably here looking for his daughter's young pussy. He imagined the stranger lying in wait, watching his daughter go about her business, a pair of binoculars in one hand, his dick in the other. Well Jonas would be damned if he would let this stranger have her!

With stealth gained from years of hunting for his food, he got behind the stranger without being seen or heard. But he could not just shoot the man in the back and be done with it. It was not any kind of ingrained sense of honor that prevented him from blowing the trespasser to kingdom come.

No, nothing like that. It was because Jonas had long ago touched on a great truth. If you went to Heaven, everyone would worship the same master or his minions. It was pretty much an exclusive club. Unless you martyred yourself or had the pope declare you a saint, then you were low man on the totem pole. And Jonas had long ago given up the idea of going to Heaven anyway. But in Hell, the people you killed were destined to serve under you for eternity. The more people you killed the more powerful you were in Hell. Even before the disappearance he had done quite well for himself. Serving in Iraq had been quite profitable. He could kill any damn towel headed bastard and get away with it as long as he took certain precautions. Getting booted out on medical reasons for his diabetes had slowed him down, but not stopped him entirely. At the time all the people bugged out he had already twenty or more bodies tucked away here and there on the farm. Mostly drifters, drunks, drug addicts and salesmen. But his first wife and a state trooper were buried out there too.

The disappearance could not have come at a better time for him. He had just finished a putting trooper in the ground and turning his attention to his partner when he noticed that the second was not quite fully dead yet. He raised the shovel up above his head, being very careful to keep his eyes locked on the big man's eyes when the man just suddenly was not there anymore. There was a soft sound of air rushing to fill the void where he had been. His uniform remained. Jonas had dropped the shovel and stared as the uniform slowly caved in on itself. Being very careful not to touch it himself he had picked up the shovel again and prodded at the now vacant clothes. Not so much as a toenail remained. He had somehow been cheated out of this one. He would have been a good one too. Young and strong. It spooked him badly but there was still work to be done. He buried the empty uniform and placed the gun holster in a heavy ziploc bag just like the other one. He never knew when an extra gun might come in handy.

They had come by asking questions about a missing teenage boy he had buried the week before. And he felt at the time that his run was nearly over. It would not be too long before the police came with cadaver dogs and backhoes and forensic experts. Of course he intended to be dead before then, and maybe take a few more cops to Hell with him.

But it was not to be.

The disappearance had slowed him down, but it had not stopped him. He still managed to snag the occasional drifter. If they were alone they were fair game, if they travelled in a group, he usually doused the lights and let them pass. His second wife had been the daughter of a man that had passed through here that first winter alone. She had been docile enough after the first couple of times he had beaten her senseless. But when she had tried to run away with their daughter he just could not let that slide. He had tied her to a tree on a summer night and let the black beasties have her. She was too weak to serve adequately and her constant mewling was irritating enough on this side, there was no way he would want to put up with that shit for all eternity. But he didn't even bother burying the bodies anymore. He just left them where they fell if it were summer. The monsters took care of the disposal for him. In the winter he just drug the bodies out into the woods and left them somewhere. He was already planning where he would dump this latest trespasser.

"You just freeze right there in your tracks or I'll shoot you where you stand!" He ordered as he stepped out from behind an old Farmall and cocked his rifle. "You come her for my daughter I reckon. Well you cain't have her. Now you just march right on ahead there and tie the reins of your horse to that there tractor. She looks like a fine animal, wouldn't want her to bolt now if any sudden noise were to spook her."

Elias did as he was told and turned to face the man that had so easily taken him captive. He was not really a big man and he looked to have at least a decade on Elias, but there was an evil air about him. He remembered his father telling him that anyone can be dangerous. A ninety year old quadriplegic can best a trained Marine if he has a sharp mind and the will to kill. And Elias had no doubt that this man had the will.

Elias tried to think of some way to escape, but sometimes there just simply was no way out. The man was hanging just far enough back that he would have plenty of time to shoot Elias if he tried anything. He was directing Elias well away from anything that could possibly be used as a weapon or cover. He just walked where the man pointed and soon found himself in front of the steel sided barn to the southeast of the house he had been heading to. The man gestured Elias to open the door. The door screeched along its track but opened easily enough.

"Gonna haf to grease those wheels soon dontcha think?" The man asked. But it didn't appear to Elias that he was looking for any kind of response, so he kept silent.

He hesitated there at the edge of the barn's shadow and the man pointed the rifle at his knees. He stepped inside. The interior of the barn was pitch black. The door faced to the north so even had the sun been up or the moon been full, no light would have reached the interior. Elias had once thought himself above common irrational fears, especially fear of the dark. But in the last few years he had discovered sound reasoning to dread being caught outside when the sun went down. But this barn was somehow worse. He knew that death waited inside.

The darkness of the barn closed about him in an almost palpable sense. He stepped forward into the gloom waiting for his eyes to adjust. Just as dim shapes began to form in front of him a light flared behind him casting long dark shadows that danced menacingly across the jumbled landscape of the barn's interior. The dancing light calmed a bit as the farmer set the lantern on a nearby workbench bolted to the concrete floor.

Elias looked about the barn trying to find something that would help, but the crazy old man fired a shot into the concrete floor at his feet. Chips of cement sprayed across his pants leg, some of them even cut through to his shins. He yelped and jumped back.

"Look here!" Jonas yelled at the intruder. He wanted to be looking in the man's eyes when he put the bullet into him. Had to really, or it didn't count. The man was a tall and strong, a worthy addition. He raised the rifle and lined up the man's left eye in the sights of the rifle. He could feel the familiar surge in his loins as he pulled back on the trigger. It was the only time he truly felt alive anymore. He knew he would have to change his drawers afterwards, but that was ok. It was a further sign of the divinity of his purpose.

The gun thundered in the confines of the the barn. The corrugated metal gave back a terrible echo. His knees buckled and he collapsed forward.

Elias stared at the fallen lunatic for a few seconds surprised that he was still alive.

"Who owns who now you SICK BASTARD!!!" a voice shrieked from behind. Elias whirled around to see the owner of the voice and saw a young girl of perhaps eleven clutching a large revolver in both hands. She was bundled in a large parka and a what looked to be four or five pairs of sweats. And the expression on her face as she approached the inert body sprawled out on the concrete floor did little to reassure him that his situation had improved. She fired the gun with each step as she advanced on him but her hands were shaking with rage so that she missed each time. Elias froze so as to not draw her fire. When the hammer started clicking on empty chambers he moved, quickly removing the gun from her hands. She fought him like a wildcat for a minute or two, kicking and biting. Then she went limp. He started to set her down, but she resumed fighting. It was like one of those cartoons he had watched as a child, the cat buzzing and hissing around the dog like a mini tornado. He managed to get her pinned to the floor before she went limp again. He waited a few moments, expecting her to start up again at the first sign that he was letting his guard down. But when she began sobbing he knew the fight was over.

"I'm going to Hell now, I killed my father!" she wailed. Elias let her go for a moment. He turned the man over and checked his pulse. It was there, thin and weak but there. Elias could never bring himself to kill in cold blood. Self defence was one thing but to execute someone that was already down was completely different. Totally violated his Hippocratic oath. But he did not have a problem with letting his fate be decided by the elements. The last fourteen years had instilled him with a deep practical streak that would have been alien to him in previous years.

"Does that run?" he asked pointing to a big Yamaha electric ATV parked against the wall. It was one of the few things in the barn not covered with years of grime and dust. And it had a large cargo rack, presumably for carrying his kills home. In reality it was just as often used for carrying kills out into the woods. The girl nodded and he began loading the man onto the cargo rack. He was heavy, but at least his bowels and bladder had not cut loose yet. There had been a thick stand of trees across the highway that would do.

But first he had to go check on Penny and get her stabled.

The girl was still in the barn. She was silent and docile at the present. He led her into the house where she wordlessly sat on a couch in the living room. The house was well kept but dark. He asked her if there was a generator somewhere and she pointed back out to the barn. He lit some candles so he would not be leaving the girl in the dark.

After that was done he made a quick run out to the woods and tied the man to a tree a few yards in and quickly left. But not before he saw a couple of skeletal figures tied to their own trees. His conscience a little cleared, he hurried back to the farmhouse.

The generator was a well maintained Honda that started on the first try. The tank was full, so he had no idea why it was not running. He suspected that the girl had something to do with it. She was still a big question mark. He hoped that she would sleep tonight, but as exhausted as he was, he doubted that he would.

* * *

He woke suddenly, hurting all throughout his body. He tried to move his arms and found them bound. He was sitting on the ground tied to a thick maple tree. His feet were free, but he was too weak to try to push himself up. His chest hurt and his fingers were numb from the cold. The last thing he remembered was that traitorous little bitch shooting him. He looked down and saw the blood soaking the front of his coat.

It was a fight to keep his eyes open. Despite his best efforts he found himself drifting off.

Death was near and he would welcome it.

Pain flared in his side during one of these brief lapses. He rolled away from it and got to his knees painfully. He did not even notice that he had broken off a pinky doing so. A shadow moved nearby. It was a massive thing with sword like claws. He stood slowly to his feet to face the creature that would soon carry him to Hell.

© 2011 R. Keith McBride

Land of Shadows: Chapter XXI - Good Samaritan

The roof of the church library had leaked and soaked the books. Its shelves yielded little of interest or use to him, but there was an atlas that was still intact and dry, He took some time to study it while the weather had him stranded. It was almost a straight shot from Hesston to Houston. Elias closed the atlas and set it back on the shelf, but the rotten wood gave out under the weight of the massive old book and the shelf collapsed. He quickly stepped back as the avalanche of books cascaded across the moldy carpet.

Not for the first time he found himself questioning the wisdom of this trip. But he had already put it off too long. After his last trip south he had vowed never to go any further south than the Kansas/Oklahoma border.

He had barely escaped with his life after he had walked into that nest of Shadows in Las Vegas. Some called them wraiths, some called them shades, demons, or ghosts. But whatever the name they were nasty characters.

At the time he had only been back three years, four years since everyone had been spirited away. He had been wintering at the Bellagio, staying in a suite which would have cost him half a year's salary for one night. But their rates were much more affordable now. He had an excellent view of the Eiffel Tower in front of the Paris Las Vegas Hotel. But the huge fountain the Bellagio was so famous for was a bit of a disappointment. Now empty and dry, the pipes and pumps clogged with sand. The robotic jets forever stilled. Tumbleweeds littered the floor and the submerged lights now exposed and broken. The crystal clear waters of the artificial lake gone, a victim of the Mojave Desert.

But he was living the good life. Plenty of gas to run the generators. No need to hunt, plenty of canned and dried food to be found in the casino kitchens and nearby stores. In the whole winter he had been staying there the temperature had not dipped below thirty-six degrees at night and the days were sunny and warm.

Things had been great, at least for a while. Then it started getting weird. He began to feel like he was being watched. He had awakened one night sure that something had been in the room watching him. Nothing had been there when he cut the lights on. But when he got up to check things out he found that something had broken the seal on several five gallon water jugs and let them drain out onto the suite's kitchen floor. As he stood there watching water drain from the jugs a sprinkling of dust tickled his nose and he looked up in time to see a ceiling tile settle into place. He didn't sleep for a week after that. He abandoned the Bellagio and found a room in a smaller hotel. Someplace with a solid ceiling and less hidey holes. He also took to carrying a gun with him wherever he went, not just when he was hunting.

One day while gathering food he had seen a manhole cover slide and drop into place. He pried up the manhole cover and peered into the darkness. He unfastened a self powered LED flashlight and shook it a few times to charge it up before descending into the darkness. He memories after that point were vague and often tormented him in nightmares. He could not even recall escaping clearly. He could only remember weakly crawling out one of the flood tunnels. He had been badly mauled and had lost most of the gear he had gone down with.

That was not his last encounter with the shadows, but once he figured out that they didn't like cold weather he headed north.

Now here he was intentionally headed back into the heart of shadow territory.

He packed his gear, saddled Penny and headed out. The snow was knee deep but the sky was clear and the sun was warm. He had hoped to make it to the next town before sundown, but by the time the sun had started to get tangled in the naked trees to the west. There was a road to either side of interstate that had been severed by the highway. He doubted that there was any pavement under that snow. There were however a few farmhouses and steel roofed barns. He bypassed a farmhouse of more recent construction in favor of an older house with a large stone chimney visible on the west end, A metal barn with a sliding door sat to the southeast of the house. He should be able to stable Penny there. The sanctuary at the Mennonite church had developed a certain ... aroma after three days. He weaved his way through a maze of rusted trucks and derelict tractors. The thought of ambush never crossed his mind. It was far too cold for the shadows to out and even had it been warmer they did not like to go out in the daylight. The possibility of an insane gun toting farmer protecting his land from trespassers did not enter his mind either. Which was why he was so surprised when the one that had crept up quietly through the snow behind him ordered him to freeze.

* * *

Dee was never so happy to leave a church behind her. The chapel would have made a cheery enough home had one not encountered its previous occupants, but Dotty was the only member of their party that had gotten a decent nights sleep. The three nights in the Uni had not been much better. It had been somewhat cramped quarters when she was a child living with her adopted parents, but with four adults and a dog it had even more so. But tonight they would be sleeping in comfort at the Bass Pro Shop just off I-70. They were less than a couple of miles from her biological parents old home in Independence and the home she and her adopted father had been forced out of by the wraiths so many years ago. It was so tempting to engage in a little side trip down memory lane. But now was not the time. Perhaps on the way back.

They parked the Hummer one of the service bays of the boat shop on the west side. Dotty opted to stay with the Hummer while the rest of them explored and scavenged for supplies. They needed more propane for the lanterns and for the Hummer, ammo, arrows, kerosene, windshield washer fluid, matches or lighters, salt, soap, socks, new boots for Allison and Oliver and first aid supplies to replenish their seriously depleted first aid kits. And Allison announced that she had to have some feminine hygiene products which started a rather juvenile exchange between her and her brother. Dotty put a halt to that by the simple means of whacking both parties on the back of the head with a rolled up Spring 2027 edition of the SunTracker catalog.

Dee found herself at the main entrance on the north side of the building. The waterfall had long since quit running and the dried pool at the bottom of the falls showed no signs of life. But the huge fireplace and lounge would make a good spot to camp. A cold draft from a door that had been blocked open by a shopping cart needed attention. She shoved the cart out into the parking lot where it hit a boat trailer and spilled. She looked to the west and for a moment thought she saw a thin plume of smoke. It was perhaps a mile away unless she had just imagined it. The sun was little more than a pale disk behind the clouds and held little sway with the barren snow covered Earth. She was letting the gloomy weather get to her. She turned back inside and let the door swing shut behind her.

* * *

The cuts were healing, but the one ear was still a tattered mess and always would be. He had lost a toe, chewed off after becoming so badly infected that biting it off hurt less than leaving it. The belly wounds had been itching something awful. He was weak still. That was why he was such an easy mark for the coyotes that had been watching him. But they had not counted on the half wolf bitch that had been following him either. She was not full wolf nor man's lapdog. She was outcast from the pack. She had no love of wolves or dogs, but even less for the little coyotes. If she could deny them their fun and food so be it. She waited until the lead coyote made its move then leapt to the side of the big black dog. Her jaws closed on the back of the smaller animal's neck as it lunged for the hind legs of the dog. Her heavily muscled jaw clamped down and she threw her weight into a twisting motion that snapped the coyote's neck. It was over before it even knew it had been hit. The rest of the coyote pack broke and and ran. None of them were willing to challenge her. She was big for a wolf. She could have dominated her pack if her coat had been like the others. But her coat was white and her eyes pale and pink. They would not accept her.

She knew without knowing how or why that she would follow this strange black dog. He had a purpose and a direction and she had none.

He had silently watched the brief struggle, unsure of the intent of the newcomer. The exchanged greetings in the usual canine manner and the black dog began sniffing the ground, picked up a scent and began following it. She sniffed the scent too. It was faint flowery smell with an underlying musk, familiar yet strange. A primitive part of her brain associated this scent with trouble. But he was following it so she would too. It lead to a clearing where a small fire had burned. The scent pooled here and mingled with others like it but different. Most were female, but there was a male among them. Long shallow ruts ran to the south in a parallel line, and the black dog began to follow them.

Bo began to pick up the pace. His new companion kept with him and he moved forward more confidently.

© 2011 R. Keith McBride

Land of Shadows: Chapter XX - Someone to Watch Over Her

They had been inside the Uni for a couple of minutes when Allison asked why it wasn't freezing in the camper. Dee opened up her jacket for a moment letting the warmer interior air get to her. It was indeed warmer in the Uni than it was outside, far warmer than could be accounted for by simple lack of wind. If memory served there was a thermostat towards the cab of the truck. It had a simple bi metal thermometer reading a balmy thirty six degrees. She realised that a warm breeze was drifting across her ankles and bent down to investigate the vent. Warm air was blowing gently forth. It stopped after a moment. She opened a panel next to the bathroom door and checked out the battery stack. Each battery had its own charging circuit and indicator. Six of the twenty four batteries were completely dead and another eight were only registering about five percent or less. But ten of them were showing at least half a charge. It was enough that the heaters were working, keeping the interior just warm enough to keep the batteries from freezing. There were solar panels on the roof charging them during the day. It was a testament to the engineering of the camper's electrical system and its controllers that they were working at all. Probably if someone were to go up on the roof and sweep the solar panels off they could get a little more heat inside. And the way the storm was picking up, they would not be going anywhere today.

She opened the door into the cab and found that the cab had fared far worse. The seats were a moldy mess and the dash was covered with snow from the holes in the windshield. She could see Olly approaching the camper. She imagined that they were getting concerned because she and Ally were taking so long. She pulled out her walkie talkie and called to Dotty, telling her to pull the Hummer up to the door of the camper. They would be spending the night. A few minutes later they were all inside.

The overnight stay in the Unimog turned out to be three days. Despite frequent sweepings of the solar panels they were only able to keep the remaining batteries charged up to fifteen percent by the end of the second day so they spent a lot of time huddled under blankets. But the storm ended the second night and the day broke with the crystal clarity you only get on cold winter days. The sky was clear and the sun was bright and the solar panels began to charge the depleted batteries. But the strain of the previous days use had been too much for two of the batteries and their indicators never rose past the red line. But the remaining eight had an eighty five percent charge by sundown. It was a good thing too. The snow had covered much of the Hummer and it would have be be dug out before they could proceed. By the time that was done nobody felt much like driving, so they spent yet another night in the Uni. The only consolation was that their opponent in this race would surely not be having any better luck in this weather than they.

* * *

He was losing himself. He had never experienced anything like this before. He had experienced sex before, but that was just mechanical function and instinctive animal experience. Mostly he just allowed the animal portion of the host's brain take over and perform the tasks necessary to get the job done. Over the years it had seduced and used quite a few women and men to get what he wanted.

But this time he had found himself not wanting to draw away and let the body take over. He was suddenly reluctant to hurt her. He held her naked body close to him as he kissed her lips, neck, and breasts. He knew she had never done this before and that just excited him more. He fought for control and distance, but found that difficult so for the first time ever he found himself losing control.

It was a glorious and disturbing experience that left him exhausted and rattled.

The weather had stranded them at restaurant in Independence. It was a large building, remarkably intact with the bonus of having a rather large fireplace in the dining room. They camped in the dining room in front of that fireplace. The restaurant had been part of a large chain that had prided itself on its home style cooking in an old country store setting. This had been lucky for them as many of the antiques on display had come in quite handy. An old oil lamp, some frying pans and some kitchen utensils had been put to use that first evening. In a store room they found a few dozen bundles of wood for the fireplace so they were quite comfortable.

It was after they had made love that first time that she had rolled over to look into his eyes and asked him a question that left him mentally scrambling.

"Don't you think it's about time you told me your name?"

It was only then that he realized how many holes there still were in his persona this time around. Desperately he searched but could not find it. What the Hell was it with these creatures and their incessant need to name things. Was it not enough that something just was? Must everything have a label? A name floated to the surface of his mind and he blurted it out without even thinking.

"Puck."

She giggled and for some reason he did not kill her.

That night he left the inflatable bed they had set up near the fireplace, relieved himself out back and returned to the dining room. He did not return immediately to bed though. He quietly pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it with his arms crossed over the back and chin resting on his arms. He stared at her for hours wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

© 2010 R. Keith McBride

Land of Shadows: Chapter XIX - The Uni

Dee found herself experiencing a sense of deja vu as they approached the small town where they would probably be spending the night. According to the map it was called St. James. It was about ninety miles southwest of St, Louis. They had been making good time, it was as if someone had gone before them and cleared their path of wrecked cars and such. It was not until she had bent down to pick up her father's journal after it had once again slid under the dash that she had realized that was exactly the case. Her father, along with many of their hometown's founders had done just that on their way up from Missouri years ago and there had been no traffic since then to clog things up again.

They had been unconsciously retracing their route since leaving Chicago. It was decided that the pursuit of James Nash's killer would be abandoned for now. They knew where he was going and it was hoped that they could beat him to it. She had read and re read the pertinent journal entries and hoped that her father was wrong. But she knew deep down that he was not. The catastrophe that had wiped out most of humanity had been man made.

The machines that had been used to work this horror had destroyed themselves in the process. But they were only prototypes. There was a secondary location in Houston that housed a bigger, more powerful machine. And it was just sitting there waiting to be used. Her father knew this because he had rescued a man that had helped build these machines. The man had been badly injured, but he had babbled about it constantly in his final delirious hours before dying. When he had been lucid he talked reluctantly about it, afraid that he would punish him for his role in the destruction of human civilization. But her father had learned enough enough to know how to go down there and shut things down. Or, for his killer to go down there and reactivate the machine. Neither her, nor her father knew if those that had been passed over once would be passed over again. Odds are they would, but no such guarantee existed for those born since. And even if they were not, would more wraiths, or worse, be visited upon them?

She shook her head and placed the journal safely in her pack and studied the road ahead.

They were coming to a bridge passing over the I-44. The wind was blowing something fierce and a sudden gust billowed snow from off the bridge and for a moment the road was lost. Dotty was at the wheel and slowed briefly. Then sped up again after the snow clear and a second later slammed on the brakes. A large bulky shape loomed in the road ahead. An ancient leftover from an era dead even before the disappearance. Dee recognised it at once. A Sherman tank. Its back was to them as they headed southward on the northbound lanes, but its turret could rotate three hundred and sixty degrees. And the Hummer was now skidding right towards it.

* * *

He sat in the passenger seat watching the miles fly by. The bleached blond jail bait sitting behind the steering wheel would not have been allowed to drive by the old laws. But things were a little less formal now and there were no police officers cruising about looking for underage drivers. Had one been around and foolish enough to pull her over, he would have been surprised by the hardware she had tucked away under the in various locations in the cab of the truck. A sawed off shotgun held to the door panel with Velcro straps, a revolver under the seat and a nine millimeter where the Delco stereo had once resided, not to mention the police issue Glock in the almost too large for her police issue gun belt strapped on under her parka.

The conversation was a bit one sided, but that seemed to be fine for both of them. All he had to do was nod from time to time and she just chattered away. He would be glad when the time to came to shut the bitch up. Unfortunately she was not compatible. But for now she was useful. She seemed smarter than his current host, she could read and was willing to take him most of the way to Texas. And he was sure that he would be able persuade her to accompany him further.

He had been making his way southwest across the overgrown parking lot of a big box store in Fond Du Lac, winding between battered old cars and rusting shopping carts. He literally stumbled into her. He had decided to climb over a flatbed truck blocking one of the aisles. He jumped down from the rusted diamond plate steel platform and knocked her down as she was carrying a bundle of liberated supplies from the box store. She had her gun out and pointed at him before he even knew what happened.

The two of them froze there for a few moments staring at one another. She smiled at his flustered expression completely misreading him. She put the gun away and said, "Well you look harmless enough."

* * *

Dotty managed to turn the wheel into the skid, take her foot off the brake and gas long enough for the big 37x12.5R17 Super Swamper off road tires to bite into the snow before gunning it again, just long enough to pull the Hummer off its collision course with the tank. Even so they clipped the forward edge of the tread with the right rear of the Hummer. Dotty tried to gun it again desperate to get away from the tank. Dee reached across and laid her hand on the older woman's shoulder.

"It's ok Dotty, it's dead."

"Dead ... are you sure?" She asked as she allowed the beast of a vehicle to coast to a stop.

"Positive. It's been dead for fifteen years now. Billy Parsons blew it up." She opened the door letting snow swirl into the cab for a moment. "I'll be right back," she told them before shutting the door leaving the other four human occupants to stare after her dumbly. Duke had quietly followed her out into the snow.

Aside from being almost buried in the snow the tank was as she had remembered it. Billy Parsons had stripped the fifty caliber machine guns and ammo before they left, but the tank was not what she was interested in. The big Unimog camper was just fifty yards away. Snow had drifted halfway up one side. There were holes in the windshield and it was sitting a little closer to the pavement than she remembered. Of course the tires were flat. She waded through the snow to the front of the vehicle. The steps leading up the door were not as far up as she remembered and it was not entirely due to the flat tires. She had after all only been five years old when she had stepped down out of this camper the last time.

The cab door was unlocked but the latch would not budge. That left the driver's side door which would have to be dug out or the main door into the camper section, which was slightly less buried. She opened it while Duke snuffled around the vehicle. It took some effort to push the door open past the snow. Stepping into the camper was like stepping into the past. It was all so perfectly preserved. Her father had been such a methodical man. Even while they were abandoning the Uni, he had take some time to neaten things up. His beloved old Smith Corona typewriter that had been fatally shot through the open cab door had been placed back on the writing desk. The platen and ribbon cover both bowed upward. There was a gaping hole in the back and the segment plate was broken in two. But as neatly as everything had been packed up and put away there had still been something left behind. Just inside the Uni's small bathroom was small pocket sized photo album. She picked it up and began flipping through the pages. She was unaware of the tears sliding down her cheeks. It had been so long, she had actually forgotten her mother's face.

She did not even have to turn around to know the light footstep on the stairs up into the camper were Allison's. She was the only one of their little group light enough to step up inside without making the weathered old springs creak and a stranger would have set Duke to barking.

"For a while, this was home. We had not yet found a safe place and we had to keep moving. It was small and cramped sometimes, but it was home. And Daddy was still alive. I helped kill a man to defend it. But it was already too late. He had shot everything up." She gestured towards the front of the camper and the tank beyond that, though the door between the cab and the living area was closed. There were bullet holes in the wall there. Many of the cabinet doors hung askew, having been knocked off their hinges. "I wanted so much for everything to just go back to the way it was before. Or at least to go back to our house back in Independence. Now I just want Daddy back." Allison did not know what to say, but her father had taught her that sometimes that was ok. She just climbed the rest of the way into the derelict camper and hugged her sister. Together they cried for all that had been lost.

* * *

Together Jewels and the boy Deek stared out the window at the girl. Jewels knew what the boy was thinking. It was dangerous, but it could work. Deek looked at Jewels and the old man nodded.

"Now we start fighting back." Deek said, smiling. But it was the smile of a stone cold predator.

© 2010 R. Keith McBride

Land of Shadows: Chapter XVIII - Zombie Dog Walker

Of course, Sister Irene had decided to stay. She tried to talk him out of going, but he had insisted. He had thought to borrow one of the two running vehicles that she had somehow managed to keep going. He hoped that he would be able to find gas on the way. But she had instead led him out to a stable. Sheltered comfortably in the stable were three mares and a stallion. She wouldn't let the stallion go, but one of the mares she was willing to part with. After three unsuccessful attempts to mate with the stallion, all that she had produced was a deformed and stillborn colt.

She was a good solid chestnut colored Morgan Irene introduced as Penny. It had been a long time since Elias had ridden a horse. But, she was a steady horse and gave him not an ounce of grief for his clumsy attempts to pull himself up into the saddle. The last time he had been on a horse was back in the Marine corps. A girl he had been dating was a veterinarian that worked several ranches in around the vicinity of the base.

She would frequently exercise horses by riding out about the owner's spread. Her excuse was that this allowed her to spot possible problems. Like test driving a car. But she confessed to him that she just loved to ride but had no place for a horse of her own. She knew that some of the ranchers suspected this but allowed it anyway. She thought it was probably because they just didn't want to take the time to do it themselves. But Elias thought the real reason was just because they like to watch her ride. He knew he did. Kim was an attractive woman with an athletic build, but more than that, she was a born rider and more graceful in the saddle than most could ever hope to be.

During a two week leave she finally coaxed him up onto one of the gentler mares and gave him a few riding lessons. Like everyone else in his past, he had tried not to think of her too often, having long since given up hope that she was fortunate enough to have been spared.

It had been a couple of days since he had left the convent and Sister Irene back in Salina. He was now heading south to Houston hoping to get out from under an impending blizzard before it covered Eastern Kansas in a heavy white blanket. But if he didn't, at least he would not have to worry about the wraiths.

He had spent the night before in a Dodge Caravan that had come to rest under a tree some fifteen years ago just east of McPherson. The farmhouse he had come to that evening proved unsuitable. A tornado had ripped the roof off a few years back so the house was uninhabitable. There were not that many houses along this stretch of I-135. So by night fall his options were somewhat limited.

The little van was resting under a big maple at the end of the drive. Dirt and debris covered it to a degree that he could not determine what color it had been originally. But all the windows were intact. The sliding door was stiff and he did not think he would be able to get it open, but he slipped a couple of fingers into the track under the window and pulled out while pulling on the door handle. The door moved like it had sand packed in the tracks. The interior was a bit stale smelling but the door seals were still good. A few vacant wasp nests had clung to the sagging cloth head liner but he knocked them down and swept them out. He slept curled up on the back seat and stabled Penny in what was left of the nearby garage. It was not perfect, but it was the best he could do. The little van proved to be dry and a few candles carefully placed in cup holders with heavy foil bowls under them provided enough heat in the small confines of Caravan enough that he was reasonably comfortable, even with the front window cracked a quarter inch. But the next morning he had a few moments of panic when no matter how hard he tried, he could not get the doors open. He kicked out the rear side window and crawled out dragging his pack with him. He slipped on a layer of ice as soon as his feet touched the ground. It had drizzled in the night and froze on contact. The doors were frozen shut. It was a struggle to get back up to the house until he abandoned the drive and walked on the grass, His feet crunched through the ice with every step but did not fall ... much.

But tonight it looked like his luck was better. His going had been slower, even with four sturdy legs under her, Penny was not immune to the ice. She had not fallen yet, but he had not wanted to risk pushing her any further than necessary. But by the time the sun had started going down he had come to the small town of Hesston. A great many of the residences had been ripped apart by a tornado about five years ago, but the Mennonite church had been untouched. He brought Penny in through the big glass doors at the south entrance.

There the two of them rode out the blizzard that raged across Harvey County and most of eastern Kansas for three days. The church food pantry supplied all he needed for Penny in the form of canned wheat, oat meal and various vacuum packed dehydrated fruits and vegetables he found in plastic bins.

* * *

It had been quiet for some time. Deek had been following the old man's advice and laying low, but he just had to have a look around. The old man appeared to be asleep so he went to the window and peered out.

The lake was frozen over but a youth's lifetime experience hunting with his father told him that it was not yet thick enough to support his weight. It had snowed and the bike had been abandoned. To his horror, he felt his body moving forward to the frozen edge of the water and step onto the ice. A sudden memory of an incident in his childhood of his brother falling through the ice bubbled to the surface.

He stood there on the edge of the frozen little stream watching as his brother chased after the little deer. In the dim understanding of his six year old mind he knew it was wrong. But his brother knew better and followed his own council on this matter. When the ice cracked beneath him like thunder he stood there a moment in mute surprise before the rotten ice collapsed completely beneath him. He vanished under the cold black water. Deek just stood there not knowing what to do. He was still standing there when his father found him two hours later. The water was already filming over with ice.

The beast was three steps out on the ice when a loud cracking sounded. He froze and looked down at his feet. There were no visible cracks but he did retreat back to the shore of the lake and rethought his plans to cross the ice. He hunted around shore and found a large rock that was not frozen to the ground. It weighed about sixty pounds he estimated. He skidded it out onto the ice about ten feet. It sat there for a moment. Just as he had about determined that it was indeed safe the rock broke through and disappeared.

Deek watched, relieved as his captor seemed to change his mind about crossing the ice. He felt the old man's hand on his shoulder.

"You handled that well," he told him, but Deek had no idea what he was talking about.

The beast headed west along the lake shore. It was going slow. It did not like the cold and had bundles up so heavily it was almost immobile. The one lone slave he remaining of the trio he had started with had been unable to continue so he had shot it and was now travelling alone. But that was fine with him.

He came to a little bay and and headed north along a small side road that lead up to a main county road. He had no idea what road he was on but knew the general direction he needed to go. He would have to get new host that could read or find a companion or hostage that could. The county road went due west in one direction and north east the other way so he turned to the west. Half a mile later the road ended in a "T" and he took the southern path. He took a few steps and pulled up short. There were fresh tracks in the snow. Wide tracks made by big off road tires. He deiced to follow them. Perhaps it was someone he could hitch a ride with or use.

* * *

They had planned to go into the little town of Elkhart Lake to find a place to stay for the night. But two tractor trailer rigs lay tangled under a blanket of snow completely blocking the J Road junction so they headed south along Co Rd P. They passed the thinly frozen lake that the town to the east had been named for. A short distance from that they came to a tiny stone chapel. It was set back a little bit from the road but the winter bare trees did little to hide it from Dotty's sharp eyes. She did not immediately see any access to the chapel so she backed up the road a bit till she came to a slightly overgrown drive leading to a parking lot. The south edge of the parking lot was about a hundred feet from the chapel. No one like the idea of leaving the vehicle that far from where they would be sleeping so they pulled the Hummer as close to the chapel as they could.

The chapel was a small stone building with thick walls and deeply recessed doors and stained glass windows. The front door opened on the east was a heavy iron bound wood affair with a small window and set in the top half and a pointed arched stain glass window at the top of the door. Directly above that was a little round porthole of a stained glass window. The gabled roof was steeply pitched to so it could easily shrug off thick winter blankets of snow. Inside they found that most of the pews had been removed. There were three stained glass windows on the north and south side, just after the third window was a large stone arch lending its support to the vaulted roof. A large wooden crucifix dominated the west wall. A fire place had been added to the south side where another doorway had once been. This would provide heat since the wall heaters were cold and dead. A once neatly organised kitchen area was set up around the fireplace and a bed was set nearby. Furs were filed here and there and there were a few work areas set up, some with unfinished projects still waiting to be completed. A small blue plastic kiddie pool sat in the center of the chapel. But what really drew their attention was the dead man hanging from the ceiling, directly above the kiddie pool. Suspended beneath him, hanging by a heavy chain leash and a steel choker chain, was a large German shepherd. Allison would forever think of him as the Zombie Dog Walker.

"Well, there's something you don't see everyday." Dotty whispered.

Dee was just glad that Duke was out guarding the Hummer.

It took them about an hour to find a ladder and get the dessicated remains down. Dee wished that Pastor Tom were here to say a few words, but they just settled on a moment of silence while the placed the remains in a nearby garden shed.

Although the others seemed quite comfortable once they had a fire going and the place warmed up a bit, Dee felt a little uneasy, like she was being watched. She wondered if she was just being paranoid.

* * *

He peered through the stained glass as best as he could but it was covered in a decade and half of unwashed dirt and grime. He did not dare to wipe any away for that would surely draw their attention. He thought of setting fire to the little chapel but it was stone and they could be outside and looking for him before it caught enough, besides that damn dog would alert them if he even tried. He would love to get a his hands on the fucking mutt too. But it was better that he just go. But there would be paybacks, oh yes.

He backed away with a sadistic gleam in his eye, unaware that he was being watched.

© 2010 R. Keith McBride

Land of Shadoews: Chapter XVII - Awakening

Dee awoke to the sound of a big General Motors V8 rumbling roaring to life. It was just beneath her by the sound of it. She was stretched out on the over sized center console of Dotty's Hummer. Allison was leaning over with a concerned look on her face. She could hear James and Dotty arguing quietly nearby but could not make out what was being said. Every part of her body hurt.

She tried to sit up but Allison pushed her back down like she was small child. She didn't realize how weak she was, but she must be pretty bad off if Allison could so easily restrain her.

"Notebook," she managed to whisper. Allison fished about for a couple of seconds and produced the spiral bound notebook Dee had found at the scene. She fell asleep again with it clutched to her chest.

Duke jumped into the seat vacated by Allison and nuzzled his head into the crook of her arm. He refused to move when everyone else got into the Hummer.

* * *

Sister Irene once again found herself staring at the man with shameful lusty thoughts. She knew she was going to have to spend the next several hours in prayer. There was no priest to hear her confession, grant absolution or assign penance. She just had to hope that her prayers to God would be enough. If it was not already too late.

He had recovered quicker than she had thought possible. He had the body like a Roman gladiator, strong and battle scarred. She turned away before she would more to seek forgiveness for.

She ran back to the kitchen in time to rescue lunch from burning. She finished it up and served it on one of the good china plates normally reserved for holidays. She took the plate back to him in main garage where he was working on the generator. It was looking like he just might get it up and running. It would be good to have lights and a freezer. Ice cream! She could have cream again.

She set the plate down on the hood of the Bishop's Oldsmobile. It had last moved under its own power fourteen years ago when she had used it for gathering supplies from town. It was using too much gas. She had siphoned it off to use in the little VW Bug she had found in town. But the Olds was serving quite well as a workbench and table.

Elias had spread a tarp out on the hood of the Olds and laid several of the parts he had been working on on top of that. While it was true that he'd had no formal mechanical training his father was always working on his old Camaro when he was home. And Elias had often been recruited to help. Besides when you got right down to it living creatures where just complicated machines. An internal combustion engine was child's play compared to the muscular and skeletal system of a human.

But this modified Stirling engine was completely different from any other engine he had ever seen. Combustion took place outside the piston and cylinder causing the air inside the cylinder to expand and exert force on the piston. Due to this arrangement it could burn just about any liquid or gaseous fuel with just minor adjustments to the fuel jets. But the jets were clogged and the combustion jacket was badly caked with carbon. Sister Irene had not been able to get it running since it quit three years ago. She had not known to, or how to, adjust the jets and the old gasoline had built up layer upon layer of carbon until there was just no room to burn fuel and the motor quit. The crankshaft used permanently lubricated ball bearings and the phenolic pistons were fitted in anodized aluminum cylinders. It needed very minimal lubrication on start up. The only thing he needed to do was clean the combustion jacket, and jets and make a few adjustments.

He had instructed the nun on how to do this if it ever needed to be done again. She had been watching him but he got the feeling that she was watching him for entirely different reasons.

He had just fitted the two halves of the combustion jacket on the block and was installing the air compressor. This engine was a heavy breather, it required a lot of air burn clean. He almost dropped the compressor when he felt a light touch at his elbow and turned to see Sister Irene's dark brown eyes staring into his. She looked away suddenly ashamed.

"Your lunch is ready." she told him quietly.

"You know there are other people out there. You don't have to live alone like this."

She turned back around to face him. "You don't think I know that? I hate being alone. I've always hated being alone. But I took vows..."

"Vows to who? You think your God wants you to be alone? Are you afraid that just being around other people that you will be tempted..." He stopped seeing in her eyes that the temptation was there. To just forget about her vows and abandon the convent, her duties and vows. He pulled her to him and kissed her then, knowing that it was wrong, not knowing why he was doing it. For a moment she responded, then she pulled away from him.

"Who are you being so loyal too?" he demanded. "God has turned his back on us if he ever existed at all! This isn't how it is supposed to end. I have read Revelations too!"

"But, this is not the end. It is only a test. Everyone is coming back."

"Denial of facts is not faith, it's stupidity!" He was as surprised by her slapping him as she had been by his kiss.

"They will be coming back, I've seen it. The will come back exactly as they left, naked and frightened. They will fall from the sky and tumble down the streets, And there will be nothing for them here. I have to do what I can to be ready. That is why God spared me!"

"And when will this miracle take place?"

"I don't know, but it will be the exact day and hour they left." That froze Elias. At first he had assumed this to be just a religious fervor or delusional fantasy. But what if she was right? It fit with everything he knew of the project, and he had not told her anything about it. Even in his fevered ramblings she said that he had not said anything intelligible.

He had thought that he was the only one sent forward in time because no one else had appeared with him. In the years since his arrival he had just assumed that whatever had vaporized the project facility had done the same to the people. But what if...

He began muttering a string of profanity that made Sister Irene blush. Now that the possibility had been raised the only way to put his curiosity to rest would be to go down to the company's headquarters in Houston and see what he could dig out there. He should have done it years ago, just to find out for sure what the Hell had happened, but the one person he had encountered from that area had said that Houston was infested with the wraiths.

"What's wrong?" she asked frightened by his sudden change of mood.

"I have to leave. I need to check on something. I don't suppose you would want to accompany me?" he asked already knowing the answer and grateful for it. He did not want to have to be worrying about her on the trip, and she was relatively safe here.

"Where are you going?"

* * *

"Houston," Dee repeated.

"Why Houston?" Allison asked.

"Because that is where Daddy's killer is going."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Daddy told me!" she handed Allison the journal. "Read it yourself." Allison took the journal and opened it to the folded over page Dee had used to mark the spot.

They had been travelling for two days now. Dee was not fully recovered, but she was able to sit up and walk with a pair of crutches Olly had fetched for her from a CVS pharmacy they had passed. The journal had been stained and torn in places from the rough handling it had received and some of the pages were out of order. It had taken her a while to find the answers, but when she did find them the implications of that entry scared her to the very core. She could see the same reaction now play out across Allison's delicate features.

"Daddy knew all this time? But why didn't he..."

"What, tell us and cause a panic? You know people would either panic about it now and make things worse or chalk it up to the ravings of a madman and ignore the warning. No, Daddy did the right thing. Tell a few select people and make quiet preparations."

"But we really should have done something about this before!" Allison protest.

"About what?" both Olly and Dotty asked, both feeling left out of things by this time. Allison handed the journal to her brother and told him. "About the end of the fucking world!"

* * *

In dark clearing in the woods moon light was spilling in drips and spatters on the forest floor. In one large puddle of moonlight a dark shape began to stir. It was large and slick with blood. Its dark eyes opened and took in its surroundings. It was alone. Perhaps for this first time in its life. Its litter mate, a constant companion since birth was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the master. It stood up, its legs threatening to buckle but still it managed to stand. It shook the leaves out of its short fur and sniffed the air. The scent was still strong.

Bo slowly followed Dee's trail out of the woods.

© 2010 R. Keith McBride