Old Broken Road by K. M. Alexander

Author:K. M. Alexander [Alexander, K. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Mystery, Fantasy, adventure
ISBN: 9780989602242
Goodreads: 23584687
Publisher: K. M. Alexander
Published: 2014-10-13T00:00:00+00:00

I LOOKED FOR A WAY INSIDE. Two cinderblock towers roughly fifteen feet high flanked a gate made of corrugated metal screwed into plywood. Other objects were hammered into the wavy facade to keep visitors from getting too close. Spikes. Barbed wire. Sharp jagged scraps from all manner of found and reclaimed material. The barricades on either side weren’t solid, more a pile of objects. Glass spikes lined the top and more barbed wire looped through the defenses.

Whoever was inside wanted to keep everyone out.

It’d be easy enough to climb, though I’d probably end up cutting myself and contracting something from the rusted material.

There was also the matter of not knowing what was on the other side. It could be anything, the hooded gargoyles, a tribe of murderous, blood-thirsty cannibals, a cult similar to Black’s Children, a mess of bandits, or worse—something like that creature I had seen in the Humes tunnel, something far more fearsome. I wasn’t about to go poking my head over the edge.

“You going to let us in?” I shouted at the wall.

I considered firing again, but I wasn’t carrying an unlimited supply of ammunition. Wasting them for dramatic purposes began to feel foolish.

“ARE YOU?” I screamed. My breath heaved in and out of my chest, and my fingers twitched at my sides. Remembering Tin’s body only enraged me further.

No answer.

More sounds seemed to come from behind the gate. A shuffle. A sniffle. A cry? It was hard to tell.

My companions flanked me. Wensem’s face was drawn and his feet were planted wide apart, but his shotgun was resting at ease on his shoulder. He was here for security. He wasn’t up for a rampage, not yet at least. I had seen him snap only three times before, twice on the trail and once deep beneath the city of Lovat. Wensem was a slow burn—a dormant volcano—and Firsts help you when he went off.

Hannah’s mood mirrored my own. She rolled her shoulders and shifted her rifle between her hands. Her green eyes flicked about, scanning the top of the wall and the roofs of the small collection of buildings visible on the other side. Scouting.

It was hard to tell how many structures were still erect behind the barricade. Gambrel and flat-roofed buildings rose from behind the defenses like tired old veterans. Old. Worn. Missing shingles patched with strips of bark or clumps of sod.

Garrets stained from centuries of grime stared down at us in judgement from the roofs like clouded eyes.

Samantha joined us, standing behind me and to my left. If I turned my head I could see her just over my shoulder. She reminded me of one of those cartoon angels in those kid serials that played on the monochrome. Agents of goodness whispering in the ears of the protagonist. Offering sensible advice to oppose the devil on the opposite shoulder.

I wasn’t in the mood to listen to advice.

“Maybe no one is home,” said Wensem in a soft drawl.

“Bullshit. I heard someone,” I turned and shouted at the gate.

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