Bloodlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Harem by Daniel Pierce

Author:Daniel Pierce [Pierce, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

As the sun crept above the flat horizon, we loaded Seth into the back of one of the trucks in a process that can best be described as a comedic clusterfuck, along with Karina’s chestnut mare and our backpacks and bags. It was kind of sad to pile up our possessions and know that was all we had in the world: two half-starved horses and a couple of sacks of guns, bullets, and tools. I didn’t even have my little house in Fort Caruso anymore; not with the town being ripped in two by a death-crazed bishop and a power-crazed governor. We’d been lucky to sneak out of there alive, and I didn’t expect to return.

Amberlee climbed up into driver’s seat of the truck we’d helped her out of. “We’ll make straight for my bolthole,” she said, “unless you two have other plans.”

I gave Karina a questioning look.

She nodded in agreement with Amberlee. “Our plan is to track the vamps south and kill as many as we can.”

I winced. That second part hadn’t been part of my plan. In fact, I distinctly remembered telling Karina that I intended to avoid direct encounters with vamps as much as possible. Well, direct encounters with vamps besides her, anyway.

Amberlee grinned sardonically. “You sure that’s a good plan? I mean, in terms of staying alive.”

Karina looked from me, to Amberlee, and back to me again. She saw she wasn’t going to get any support on that plan from me, so she pressed her point. “You seem to know more about this boss vampire, Silas, than we do,” she said to Amberlee. “I think we should stick together.”

I agreed, and soon we were barreling across the prairie in two pickup trucks. Our frightened horses cowered together in the bed of the one I drove, crammed into the smashed-up cabin like I was driving some kid’s toy car. The engine spat and bucked now and then, but it kept running, so I kept driving. Karina, of course, got to ride in the nice spacious cabin of the other truck, sitting next to Amberlee.

About half an hour outside Fort Caruso, we arrived at the dilapidated ruin of a gas station. The windows of the convenience store had long been boarded up, the pumps riddled with bullet holes and scorched with burns. It didn’t look particularly hospitable, but I followed Amberlee’s truck around the back and parked next to her.

As Karina and I unloaded our horses from the truck-bed in a mirror of the aforementioned clusterfuck, Amberlee cleared away a pile of brush from the ground, revealing a padlocked trap door. She produced a key and swung the door up and open, admitting us into a cinder-block room about the size of a semi-trailer. She closed the doors behind us as Karina and I switched on some electric lanterns, bathing the small room in pale light.

Amberlee spread her hands, inviting us to take in the room, which was lined with steel shelving laden with tools, canned food, guns, ammo, and everything else a person would need to survive on their own for months—years, even.

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