Executioner by Derek Shupert

Author:Derek Shupert [Shupert, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Zombies
Published: 2019-07-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We stand there, huddled around the fuel cans without saying so much as a word. I’m not sure if Lucas is feeling a bit out of sorts from his moment of being sucked into the past or not. He avoids eye contact with me. He probably doesn’t want to dive into his feelings any more than I want to go into mine. We all deal with our demons in different ways. Perhaps when things calm down and when we have the time, I’ll probe deeper. Then again, it may never be the right time.

Lucas grabs the container and pulls it toward him slightly. I shine the light at the top as he narrows his eyes at the interior.

“That should be good on that one. We’ll go ahead and start filling up the other one now.”

He pinches the hose, and quickly moves the end to the other empty gas can. A bit of diesel spews out over the grass and cans during the exchange. I place my arm over my nose to avoid breathing in the fumes.

“You all right?”

I take a second before removing my arm from my face. “Yeah. Not a fan of how this stuff smells. Gives me a headache at times.”

“I can handle this, James, if you want to go back to the Humvee. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

I dismiss the thought with a shake of my head.

“No. I’m good.”

A branch snaps to my right on the other side of the tiny house we are huddled up next to. Our heads are drawn to the noise. Lucas places his finger over his mouth quickly.

Duke starts to growl. I pull him close to me and whisper in his ear to calm down. His head remains trained toward the other side of the structure. His ears are on end. His body grows stiff as his muscles prepare to engage whatever threat may linger within the darkness.

Lucas calmly removes the rifle slung over his left arm. He shoulders the weapon and slowly stands up. He motions with his hand for us to stay put. Crouched slightly, Lucas moves cautiously toward the forbidding disturbance.

The machete remains tight in my grasp. At times, it feels as though it’s been permanently fixed to my hand. Although I miss having my rifle, more for sentimental reasons, having this blade has proved to be a much more valuable asset in the apocalypse.

It doesn’t run the risk of jamming or malfunctioning in any sort of way. But most importantly, there is no ammunition that I have to worry about running out of.

I focus the flashlight’s beam at the ground where Lucas is stepping. He presses his left shoulder against the beige wood facade of the house and slithers down to the corner. He pauses just shy of the darkness hovering beyond the edge. It’s only a second or two, nothing more before he peers out into the dimness.

The barrel of the rifle sweeps from left to right carefully, methodically, as he pushes on into the cloak of night.

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