Dark Tomorrow by Jeremiah Franklin

Author:Jeremiah Franklin [Franklin, Jeremiah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YA, teen, apocalypse, post-apocalypse, action, survival, dystopian
ISBN: 9781948671064
Publisher: Month9Books
Published: 2018-09-18T07:00:00+00:00

Sawyer and Sara returned to the Mission walking side by side, but within seconds of entering the compound, Sara looked over at Sawyer and wrinkled her nose.

“What is that smell? And what’s up with the crows?”

The putrid smell of death was heavy in the air, and Sawyer took one look at the mass of crows hovering in the corner of the compound and suddenly remembered the corpse he had dumped two days before. He looked over at the girl.

“Why don’t you go check on your father, and I’ll see what’s going on?”

He left Sara and took off running toward the far corner, the sickening smell and the shrieking of the crows growing stronger with each step. He rounded the corner of the last structure blocking his view and stopped cold, the scene unfolding before him like something straight out of a horror film. The crows had somehow managed to expose the man’s dead body, and the hovering swarm above it looked like a single, malevolent organism, the birds lost in a feeding frenzy as they tore at the flesh of the mutilated corpse.

The boy had seen it all before, on the day of his mother’s death, and he could picture it as if it were yesterday. Her body left unguarded for only a few minutes. The sound of the crows’ screeching. The sight of her face. Her eyes gone. Her lips missing. The crows taunting him from the trees above, beaks still wet with blood. To Sawyer, it was as if it were happening all over again, and in a rage, he took hold of the barrel of the shotgun and let the adrenaline hit him full force.

All Sawyer could see was red and death and destruction, and he rushed into the mass of feathered bodies as if possessed. He swung the shotgun with deadly accuracy, the heavy stock crushing the life out of any crow within range of his swing, his boots kicking and smashing until the ground was littered with the bloody feathers of dead crow. It was all over in less than a minute, and the surviving crows took to the air and hovered above him, their cries echoing across the compound. Sawyer bared his teeth and shouted back at the birds, the crows going mad as he slammed his heel down and smashed the head of one of their wounded comrades.

Still glaring upward, he crushed the life out of several other injured birds before he finally wiped the blood off the Mossberg and slipped it over his shoulder. He looked down at the dead man and shook his head. The body was in a horrific state: the eyes, nose, lips, and ears torn from what was left of the head, the stomach cavity ripped open, the man’s entrails pulled in every direction like strings of wet confetti on the ground. Several small, pink, unidentifiable body parts lay spread around the man, and Sawyer grimaced as he noticed a strip of hair-covered scalp still stuck in the beak of a dead crow near the body.

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