The Crusader | Book 3 | One In The Hand by Abrahams Tom

Author:Abrahams, Tom [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Survival
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2022-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

D-DAY + 4 YEARS, 6 MONTHS, 20 DAYS

NEAR ELIZABETHTOWN, KENTUCKY

Dale was bleeding out, but he was alive. Beck had shot him clean through twice, so as long as he kept the holes plugged, Dale would keep his wits about him long enough to answer the questions Dolly had failed to satisfy.

He leaned against the front door. The thick lids hung over his eyes, and he snorted through an open mouth.

Beck had yet to ask him a question when Dale surprised him. The man wagged a weak finger at him. “I know you,” he said. “I know you.”

Beck lifted an eyebrow.

“The legend is true. You’re unkillable.”

Dale coughed. His eyes fluttered. Beck thumped him on the shoulder to refocus him.

“Not that we would’ve killed you,” Dale said. “There’s a bounty on your head, John Beck. We were going to take you in.”

Beck suppressed a smile. He played dumb. “Take me in?”

“The Sheriff wants you. Put out a bounty on you. Worth more alive than dead.”

“The Sheriff, huh?”

“Yeah, he runs parts north of here.”

“What else do you know about him?”

Dale shrugged as best he could. “Has an army bigger than the militia. People say he controls West Virginia, or parts of it. Has friends from here to Canada. Runs a path back and forth.”

“For what?”

“People. Modern-day underground railroad. Couple of times a year, he takes people to Canada. Supposedly has a utopia up there.”

Beck studied the dying man’s features. He couldn’t get a good read on his pale, slimy complexion. Even his beard seemed to lose its color. Was this true?

“So how would you find the Sheriff? If you got me, turned me in, what would you do?”

Dale laughed, then winced and coughed again. Blood glistened at the corners of his droll mouth. He slowly lifted a hand and wiped the back of it across his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you? The comics never said you were thick in the head, John Beck.”

“Humor me.”

“Churchill Downs. Everybody knows Churchill Downs is the place. The Sheriff controls it. It’s like the gateway into his world, but he’s very particular about who he lets in and who he helps.”

Beck leaned in close enough to breathe in the odor of blood and sweat and urine. He glanced at the floor and noticed the firelight-reflecting puddle that spread out from underneath Dale’s legs. The man had wet himself.

He fought the urge to gag and focused on his next question. “How do you know this?”

“I thought everybody knew it. It’s—”

Dale coughed again. This time, a spray of blood spattered Beck’s face and chest. Beck blinked away the blood, smeared it across his cheek with his sleeve.

“It’s what?” Beck asked.

“Common knowledge. The Sheriff helps people who can’t help themselves. He also goes and takes care of anyone who gets in the way of his mission. He’s like you…but better.”

This brought about another coughing fit. Beck backed away to avoid the bloody sputum. When Dale stopped, his breathing was labored. He didn’t have long now. Beck had seen this before, too many times to count.

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