DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum Read online

  DeadEarth

  Episode 1: Mr. .44 Magnum

  by

  Michael Anthony

  Chapter 1: “Long goodbyes just hurt more.”

  Shade watched as the last leaf broke away from the dying tree. As it fell, it danced and swayed on the gentle breeze before coming to rest atop the corpses of those that fell before it. The leaf died days ago, but was too stubborn to leave the branch. When it did, Shade finally let go of the tinge of hope it gave her—the hope that she would see an autumn tree or a vibrant blade of grass ever again.

  Tucking a loose strand of her short, black hair behind her ear, she plucked the leaf from the ground and crushed it in her hand. It was a stupid thing to do—to get back at the leaf for destroying her hopes—but it gave her a slight bit of satisfaction as it crunched and shattered beneath her fingers.

  With a solemn gaze, she cast her dark brown eyes over the sea of death that her mom once called their ‘Secret Garden’. Their backyard was once robust with red roses, yellow sunflowers, and pink rose thrifts. Honeysuckles, jasmines, and allspice bushes dotted the perimeter, painting the air with a myriad of scents that embodied springtime. When the northern wind swept down through their horse ranch, Shade would always stop whatever she was doing to savor the moment. It was a rare thing not to smell the stench of horse manure that hung in the air like a swarm of gnats.

  But that seemed like forever ago. Over the past month-and-a-half, every plant in the world suffered the same fate as the tree before her. From the smallest sapling to the tallest redwood, nothing was alive anymore. Even indoor greenery shriveled and decayed in their pots.

  Shade released the remnants of the leaf and gazed once more at her old friend, the dead tree. She climbed it every day when she was ten. Seven years later, she still knew the best branches to hold on to, and which gave the best view of the horses’ grazing pasture.

  Not anymore though. The roots were starving and the branches were weak. Much like the world, the tree wasn’t safe anymore.

  Shade turned her back on it and made her way to the deck of her family’s two-story Georgian home. She sat on the couch under the awning, closed her eyes, and let the sun’s warm rays soothe her as she listened to the national news pouring from the TV on the other side of the window.

  “...geoepidemiologist Jackson Burts is working on his third attempt to synthesize a probiotic nutrient that will act as a temporary all-in-one replacement during this catastrophic event. The President has issued a statement urging farmers to harvest the meat of their livestock before they succumb to starvation as the food-chain...” The news anchor fell silent for a moment. That was never a good sign. “This just came in,” he announced with renewed vigor in his voice. “The President, in agreement with Congress, has suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus. Martial law has been declared...”

  “Ah shit.” Shade’s dad grumbled from the living room as he flicked off the TV. He slammed the remote on the coffee table as he sighed loudly. “Rikka, Lou, Shade,” he called to his daughters. “Meet me in the stable in an hour.”

  Shade searched the paint-chipped wood for her father’s logic. What did martial law have to do with the stable? Then it hit her. She leapt from the porch and darted towards the horse barn fifty yards away from the house. She covered the distance in record time. Throwing open the door, the horses pranced and neighed uneasily as it creaked and slammed against the adjacent wall. They had grown antsy since the earth started dying, and they were getting worse every day—like they knew something Shade didn’t.

  She sprinted to her horse’s stall near the back of the stable. Delilah poked her head out to greet her, probing her hand for the apple she usually brought. Despite the dire circumstances, Shade smiled and scratched her behind the ear as she put her cheek against the horse’s.

  “You’re going to be fine, old girl” she whispered as she kissed Delilah’s nose. “I’ve got a plan.”

  The door groaned again. Rikka, her older sister, stood in the doorway looking around for her horse. He was a flirtatious stallion, so she changed his stall daily. It was Lou’s idea—to ‘keep the ladies from getting jealous’. Rikka always forgot which mare she hooked him up with, but Shade remembered.

  “He’s here,” she said, nodding to the horse next to hers.

  Rikka lifted her pant leg and kneeled to remove the six inch blade from her ankle sheath. She gripped it so the sharp steel extended from the bottom of her hand, then strode purposefully towards her horse, Shadowless Night.

  “Whoa, wait,” Shade yelled, stepping in front of her sister’s horse. He fidgeted behind her, seeming to sense the rising tension. “What are you going to do?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  Even though they were sisters—and born only eleven months apart—Rikka and Shade were polar opposites in both looks and disposition. Rikka was tall, long-haired, and had a darker skin tone, while Shade had a caramel complexion, sported shoulder length curly hair, and had a short stature. When it came to temperament, Rikka was a black mamba. Short tempered and quick to strike, she wasn’t afraid to break a knuckle on someone’s face—even if that someone was her sister.

  As the protective personality in her family, Shade unwittingly spent most of her life at the focal point of Rikka’s verbal and physical aggression. Their dad always joked that Rikka was the sword and Shade was the shield, and if they ever set aside their differences, they’d be an unstoppable pair. Fat chance of that happening, but it didn’t stop Shade from trying to reason with her.

  “What Dad wants us to do.” Rikka attempted to brush past Shade but she held her ground, grabbing her sister by the wrist wielding the knife.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Get out of my way, Shade. I’m really not in the mood for this,” Rikka warned.

  Shadowless Night put his head out over the stable gate and nudged the younger sister, as if begging for her protection. Shade gritted her teeth as she stared into her sister’s eyes. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of hesitance, but a blink later and they transformed into a cold, hard brown. That’s when she knew Rikka couldn’t be reasoned with. If Shade was going to save Shadowless Night, she would have to do it by force.

  Without a moment’s thought, she balled her fist and swung at her sister. Rikka snatched her wrist out of Shade’s hand, careful not to cut either of them with the knife, and sidestepped, easily dodging the blow. With a quick left hook, Rikka struck her sister just under the ribcage, delivering an unrestrained liver punch. Shade tried to take a step back and jab with her left hand, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Pain reverberated inside of her as her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground. In the back of her mind, she knew what was happening, but her limb’s unresponsiveness scared the shit out of her. She would have panicked if it didn’t feel like she had just been run through with a sword.

  “Long goodbyes just hurt more,” Rikka said, stepping over her sister to get to the horse.

  Shade closed her eyes as sounds of the dying steed filled the barn. Shadowless Night thrashed about in his stall, his hooves knocking against the wood door and walls as he struggled to remain upright despite his weakening body. Then the sounds started again. Shade didn’t have to look back to know what Rikka had done Delilah. She tried to neigh, but only an awful gurgling sound escaped the gash in her throat as a waterfall of blood collided with the ground.

  The warm liquid oozed under the stall doors and pooled on Shade’s back as her sister stepped around her.

  “Consider it a favor,” she said. Rikka waited a beat. Shade thought she would say more, but her sister left without another word.

  She laid there for a long moment, soothed not by the gentle sounds of the
other horses, but by the warmth of the blood she didn’t have to spill. Her grandfather was a survivalist. He passed the trait along to her father, and he to their mother—at least until the divorce. Strength and preparation were prided traits. Her dad gave them that hour to say goodbye to their horses, to make it harder for his daughters when he made them kill them. He was preparing Shade, Rikka, and Lou for the new world, and the laws that would govern it.

  Shade wanted nothing to do with the new world.

  She picked herself up, ignoring the heavy blood that clung to her clothes. She couldn’t bring herself to look back at the horses. Instead, she limped out of the barn. Lou, her younger sister, stood just outside the door when she opened it. Lou took one look at the blood soaked through Shade’s clothing and darted towards the house without saying a word.

  “Lou...” she called after her. But there was no point. She was autistic, and seeing anything out of the ordinary led to isolation and regression. And considering who their father was, there was a lot of that. Rikka was the only one who could coax her out of that state. She seemed to understand Lou on a deeper level than anyone else, which was odd considering she had the shortest temper of anyone Shade knew.

  Walking towards the house, she wondered how she would make it to her room without getting horse blood everywhere. Thankfully, Rikka met her at the door with a wet towel and a change of clothes. As Shade neared, she silently offered the towel.

  “Thanks,” Shade muttered. She took off her shirt and threw it to the ground. Before wiping the blood off, she inspected the bruise forming on her side.

  “Sorry I punched you,” Rikka said.

  Shade ignored her and concentrated on wiping the blood from her arms and back. She knew the only reason Rikka was apologizing was to get Dad off her back when he noticed Shade’s limp and the inevitable bruise that would form. Shade would take the blame—as she always did—but it didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

  When her arms were as clean as possible, she pulled off her pants and toweled down her legs. When she was done, Rikka handed her the change of clothes. “I’m sor—” she began.

  “I heard you the first time,” Shade spat.

  The older sister’s jaw tightened as she averted her gaze. That was another tactic of Rikka’s when she was backed into a corner: invoke sympathy. Shade snatched the clothes from her sister’s hand and put them on. After dressing, she picked up the blood-soaked clothes and tossed them in the trash bin off the side of the porch.

  “You think he’s going to make Lou kill her horse?” Rikka asked gently, seeming to test the waters.

  Shade sighed and sat on the steps. She stared at the barn, listening to the soft sounds of the dozen remaining horses. “No, he’s going to make me do it. When he sees that Delilah and Shadowless Night are dead, he’s going to know you killed them. I’m probably going to have to kill Delilah’s foal too.” Shade’s voice lacked all emotion as she prepared herself for the slaughter she would soon take part in.

  Rikka sat next to her sister and pulled the knife from her ankle sheath. “I can’t do this one for you,” she said, holding out the blade. Shade glanced at it, and then turned away. Rikka sighed. “Look, unless they find a way to reverse what’s happening, the world’s going to go to shit real quick. If you can’t kill, then you’re going to be killed. There’s no other option.”

  “If it was for you, Mom, Dad, or Lou, I wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a moment.” Shade looked up, locking eyes with her sibling. “But this is a test. What does killing a horse prove?”

  Rikka slammed the knife on the step beside her sister and stood. From her body language, Shade knew she said something to piss her off. Typical. “It proves that you can do what must be done, Shade. Your problem is you think too damn much. Just kill the fucking horse and be done with it.” Without another word, she marched up the steps and back in the house, closing the door behind her.

  Shade glanced down at the knife. Her father taught her how to use fists, knives, guns, swords, and her wit to survive. He taught her everything he could to make her stronger and smarter—to make her a survivor. But he couldn’t teach her how to kill—how not to care about the life of another. That was a journey she would have to take on her own. A journey he forced her to take.

  But Shade fought it every step of the way. Rikka was mean and vengeful normally, but when she had to kill, her heart grew black. Whether it was a chicken for dinner, or the horse she loved, a darkness overcame her, and while engulfed in that darkness, she was capable of anything. Shade didn’t want to become like that. It scared her more than anything—to have no boundaries or restraints. To be completely heartless.

  The hour came and went in what felt like an instant. Shade found herself standing next to her sisters in the stable. Blood from Shadowless Night and Delilah soaked the floor. Her father threw down a layer of hay for Lou’s sake, but it didn’t help much. She clung to Rikka with her face half buried in her side, shaking uncontrollably.

  A table separated the sisters from their father, and the horses behind him. Rikka’s knife and a loaded 9mm pistol rested on it, waiting for Shade to choose one.

  Their father was an ex-Navy SEAL with a penchant for mind games. Though he stood at a meager 5’7”, his strength, prowess, and know-how was matched by none. He taught his daughters everything the Navy and life had taught him.

  His muscular, clean-shaven face was locked in a stern expression as he stared at his middle child. Shade imagined her expression matched his as she prepared herself for what she was about to do. With a heavy sigh, she walked over the table, picked up the gun, and ejected the clip onto the floor. She popped the bullet out of the chamber and let it fall to the ground as well. A quick glance at her father’s expression revealed nothing, like he expected that of her.

  She hated that.

  Shade picked up the knife and walked past the table to the stall housing Lou’s horse, Your Not-So-Ordinary Enigmatic Puppy. She smiled when she thought of his name. She helped Lou come up with it five years ago when Mom gave the colt to her. She told Lou that great horses had great names. Lou wanted her horse to be the greatest, and gave him a name to fit.

  Shade tucked the knife in her belt loop and slowly opened the stable door. Puppy greeted her eagerly, nudging and licking at her hands for an apple that would never come.

  “Long goodbyes, Shade,” Rikka reminded sternly.

  Shade ignored her. She walked around the horse, brushing the soft brown coat with her bare hand. When she neared the horse’s rump, she removed the blade and circled around the other side. Shade looked to her sisters, and then to her father. Taking a breath, she pulled the dagger back and stabbed the horse in the rear, barely piercing the flesh of his croup. Puppy neighed and bucked. He darted towards the open barn door, nearly colliding with Lou and Rikka, who narrowly managed to dive out of the way.

  A liberating smile spread across Shade’s face as she watched him go. Before meeting her father in the barn, she broke out sections of the gate, leading him to true freedom. It was her plan for Delilah. She’d give him the night to saunter about, and then wake up early to track him. She knew a great place in the woods near a shed she and her mom built ages ago. It wouldn’t take much work to fence off a makeshift pasture. They had plenty of wire lying around, and no one would miss they hay and vitamins needed to keep him healthy.

  Puppy was a third of the way across the grazing pasture when her dad slid the gun off the table and picked up the magazine.

  “You could have made it quick,” he said, loading the weapon. “Now, Pup’s going to die slowly.” He pulled back the slide and released it. Taking his stance, he aimed…

  “Dad, please,” Shade screamed. “Please. We have—”

  …and fired.

  All three sisters covered their ears as three jarring cracks filled the barn.

  Chapter 2: “The world’s dead. I don’t think it’s coming back.”

  Shade lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Dried blood ca
ked her hands from her battle with death. After her father shot Puppy, she ran across the baron grazing pastures and tried to stop the bleeding. She couldn’t. And her dad was right—Puppy did die slowly. She watched the life fade from his eyes and knew she would never be able to forget it.

  Her dad entered the room and sat on the foot of her bed. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so Shade knew he was in ‘Dad mode’. Gently lifting one of her hands, he ran a warm, damp rag along her palm and fingers to clean off the blood. Shade snatched it away and turned her back to him.

  “Sooner or later, they would have died—”

  “We have enough hay to last a while, Dad.” She spat his name with all the scorn she could muster. “That was just a lesson to you. Shouldn’t you be congratulating Rikka? She passed.”

  “If we didn’t kill them, someone else would have. Food is growing more and more scarce, Bug. A month and a half in and martial law is declared… Meat is a commodity that people will start killing for...”

  “Everything you taught us, was it just to survive?” Shade turned to her father. “Or was it to survive and protect the ones we love?” By the look in his eyes, she knew the answer. “Let me tell you something, once the world runs out of its meat and plants reserves, what do you think they’re going to turn to? I guess I should just kill you, Mom, Lou, and Rikka now before someone else comes to do it.”

  Her father opened his mouth to speak but she shouted for him to leave. He paused for another moment, and then stood and walked towards the door. Before he exited, Shade called out to him.

  “Did you kill her foal?” She didn’t want to know the answer, but she needed to.

  He responded by closing the door behind him.

  Tears of anger and sadness streamed down Shade’s cheek as she hammered her pillow. It was moments like these that she hated her father. Everything was a test or a mind game to him. She understood why Rikka killed Delilah and Shadowless Night. It was out of duty, and Shade could forgive that. But her father... He could have shot Puppy in the head. She would have understood that. A clean, quick death. But he didn’t. He wanted him to suffer. He wanted to teach his daughters a lesson. And she was tired of learning lessons.