DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum (4 page)

When nothing was left to re-clean or
reorganize, Shade pulled up a chair and sat in front of the stairs
leading out of the bunker. Her companion, the suppressed M1911A1,
sat across her lap. She wasn’t expecting any baddies to come
bursting through the entrance. Rather, she prepared to charge up
the stairs and take her home back. She couldn’t bear to be holed up
in the bunker any longer. She had taken to staring at the medicine
cabinet to pass the hours. She wanted to take
something—anything—strong enough to make her forget she hadn’t seen
the sun or taken a breath of fresh air in two full months. But she
couldn’t. If something did happen, she didn’t want to be a
liability.

But Jesus Christ she was bored out of her
mind. And those fucking generators…

Shade disengaged the safety, stood, and
ascended the stairs in one swift motion. She wasn’t thinking. It
was like her body was on autopilot, and she had no desire to stop
herself. She flipped over the cover to the keypad and punched in
half of the exit code before Rikka took note and called out to
her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she said
sharply. She stood and crossed the room towards the stairs.

Shade didn’t answer. She knew if she did,
Rikka would find a way to talk her out of it, or get close enough
to stop her by force. One button, ENTER, was all it took for the
main staircase to rise, releasing her into the foyer.

A gust of air tickled her face. Shade closed
her eyes for a brief moment and inhaled. She nearly gagged. It
smelled like ball sweat and urine—the last thing she wanted to
smell after two months.

The house was silent. The sun set six hours
ago and Shade figure if anyone was still in the house, they’d be
asleep. She climbed the last few stairs with her weapon drawn. The
staircase closed as she stepped into the foyer. The suppressor of
her weapon glided to the right and to the left as she aimed the gun
at each of the entrances. She took a gentle step forward. The floor
groaned. She paused.

Nothing moved. The house was as quiet as it
was moments before. If anyone heard the noise, they showed no sign
of it. Shade eased off the spot soundlessly. She placed her back
against the wall and eased down into a crouch. With the pistol
pointed at the ceiling, she took a breath and waited.

This was the waiting game her father told her
about. ‘When you hear a noise in the night,’ he said, ‘don’t
investigate. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Wait. Wait for the
intruder to make another move. No matter how long it takes, you
wait. If you move first, they’ll know your position and attack
while you’re trying to prepare yourself. On the other hand, if you
make a sound while you’re sneaking up on someone, you wait as well.
You wait for their nerves to settle, for them to convince
themselves that the noise was nothing or that they didn’t really
hear anything at all. Silence plays tricks on the mind. Use it to
your advantage, but never become a victim of it.’

The stairs opened again, spilling a little
light out into the foyer. Rikka stepped out with two guns drawn and
aimed at the doorway to the office and family room. Even in the dim
light, Shade could see the lifeless glint in her eyes as she glared
at her. With the grace of a feline, Rikka closed the few yards
between them, easily avoiding the creak in the floor. Shade stood
and lowered her weapon. When Rikka was near enough, she lifted one
of the pistols and thrust it harshly against the soft under Shade’s
chin.

“Get your ass back in the bunker. Now,” she
hissed.

There was no doubt in Shade’s mind. Rikka
would kill her if she didn’t cooperate. But she wasn’t afraid. Her
sister showed that side of her too often for her to still fear it.
Without so much as lowering her gaze, Shade pushed the barrel of
her weapon against Rikka’s stomach.

“Who’s going to take care of Lou if we’re
both dead?” she whispered.

The lifelessness in Rikka’s eyes faded for a
single second. That was all it took for her to lower her weapon and
step away from her sister. Shade lowered hers as well, but
questioned the gesture once her sister’s soul evaporated in a
blink.

Rikka stared at her for a full minute before
finally signaling her to hold at the entrance on the other side of
the stairs. Shade complied, making sure to avoid the creak in the
floor. With her weapon at the ready, she stepped past the stairs
and peeked into the small office that connected the foyer to the
living room. A hefty, middle aged man sat at the desk. His
shoulders rose and fell evenly as his head rested on his double
chin. The computer screen illuminated his unshaven face and the
thin line of drool that dribbled onto his tank top.

Shade held up a finger, signaling that the
room had one occupant. Rikka dragged her finger across her neck
then put it to her lips. The order was clear: kill him. Silently.
Shade swallowed. She turned and peered back in the office. With a
sigh, she slowly eased inside, praying to every god she knew that
the floor wouldn’t groan underfoot. It didn’t, but that didn’t
lessen the tension gathering in her chest.

Though she kept her footfalls light, Shade
was sure the man would awaken from the thunderous hammering of her
heartbeat. She raised her pistol. She knew she couldn’t shoot
him—even with the suppressor, the noise would be too loud—but
having her weapon trained on him was the only way she could keep
her courage from abandoning her. When she was within striking
distance, she lowered the pistol and pulled a small knife out of
her side sheath. Putting it through his cerebellum was the only
completely silent way to kill him.

Altering her grip on the knife, she crept
behind him. The angle of his head resting on his stomach gave her a
perfect shot at the area just above the nape of his neck. She
stared at it, willing herself to be cold and emotionless as she
plunged the knife in. But then the blood came to mind. It wouldn’t
be much if she didn’t pull the blade out, but what if she needed to
make another silent kill? Sure, she could probably do so with her
bare hands, but they weren’t squirrels or chickens. They were real
people. She didn’t know if she had what it took to kill a person
with her hands. Hell, she didn’t even know if she had what it took
to kill a person with a knife. She wasn’t Rikka. She wasn’t that
strong or sure of herself. The only reason she mustered up the
courage to leave the bunker was because the hum of the generators
and the eternal exhale of the exhaust fan were driving her mad. And
she didn’t even want to get started on the tasteless MREs

Now, here she was, standing behind a sleeping
man, seconds away from ending his life. That wasn’t what she had in
mind. She just wanted some fresh air—a change of scenery.

Shade closed her eyes and shook her head. She
lowered her knife, and in one quick motion struck the man across
the back of the head with the butt of her pistol. It was a better
fate than death, and one Shade could live with.

She made her way back to the entrance and
poked her head out. Rikka was still holding her ground a few yards
from the staircase. Shade rejoined her sister, nodding that the
deed was done. Rikka returned the gesture, then turned to face the
entrance to the living room. Shade took her position directly
behind her. She placed a firm hand on Rikka’s left shoulder and,
before she had a chance to think, squeezed. Immediately, Rikka
stepped into the room and pivoted left once she was through the
doorway. Shade was on her heels, covering the right side of the
living room. Two shots rang out from Rikka’s unsuppressed pistol
followed by two pffft from Shade’s.

“Clear left,” Rikka called.

“Clear…” Shade’s voice faltered. She caught
sight of the man she had shot. The bullet holes in his chest were
illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. His eyes were
opened, staring in shock as blood dribbled down his chin. She made
the mistake of locking eyes with him. She watched the struggle in
his gaze as he clung to life with every fiber of his being. His
short and labored breaths filled her ears, reminding her of the
senseless murder committed by her father two months ago.

Shade’s vision blurred as she let her pistol
fall to her side. She was no longer in the house. Instead, she was
back in the barn, watching with fervent hope as Puppy galloped
across the grazing field.

Then the gunshots sounded.

Puppy screamed. His legs gave out and he
collided with the ground with an audible thud. His legs kicked and
his body bucked as he tried valiantly to climb to his feet. But the
pain was too great. He fell back to his side and lay there, panting
heavily.

“No,” Shade murmured as she took a hesitant
step towards the fallen horse. “Puppy!”

She sprinted across the barren field, falling
to her knees when she got to Pup. With wide eyes, she looked him
over. All three bullets struck his stomach. Blood oozed from the
wound and pooled on the ground, soaking the knees of Shade’s pants.
He’s going to die, she thought. What do I do? I can’t save him. I
can’t…

Shade shook her head, banishing the fear that
entranced her. She eased closer to Puppy and cupped her hands over
the wound. Warm blood oozed from between her fingers and down her
wrist as she applied pressure. Puppy whined, but didn’t move. Shade
looked at him. His deep brown eyes were focused on her, silently
pleading for her to make the pain go away.

Staring into his eyes, Shade lost it
again.

She turned back to her dad and sisters. “Call
the doctor,” she screamed, her voice shrill and coarse. “Please.
Please. We can still save him. Call the…”

She snapped out of her daze and searched the
room. Rikka was saying something to her, but all she could hear was
Puppy’s scream. Dropping her weapon, she ran over to the man still
fighting for his life.

“Just hold on. Everything’s going to be…”

Bang.

Blood and brain matter splatted up on Shade’s
face and in her mouth as the man and the chair he was sitting in
flew backwards. Startled, she jerked back, tripping over the corner
of the ornate rug. She hit the floor hard and scurried away from
the man and the gaping hole where his left eye should have
been.

Shade backed into a pair of legs and stopped.
She looked up to find the barrel of a .44 Magnum revolver aimed at
her.

“I’m afraid you’re not clear on the right,
doll.”

Chapter 5: “Every three days, someone
disappears.”

Mr. .44 Magnum’s cowboy boots hammered the
hardwood floor with every step he took. He paced back and forth,
occasionally rubbing his hand across his greying, stubbly chin as
he considered the situation. He was old—late fifties, at least, but
wore it well. Despite the times they found themselves in, his eyes
were bright and blue, though could turn cold in an instant, much
like Rikka’s. His face was caked in sweat and dirt, extenuating the
deep wrinkles of a rough life. His most notable feature, however,
was his left hand. It was arthritic and gnarled so completely that
it would have been less of a hindrance if it was amputated. Shy of
the wedding band looped around his finger, there was no reason to
keep the hand.

Shade couldn’t help but stare at it as she
kneeled in front of him, completely stripped of weapons. Rikka was
beside her. Two men and two women wielding guns surrounded them.
They had been circling the perimeter of the house when the shooting
started.

“The million dollar question is why you tried
to save a man you just shot?” Mr. .44 Magnum asked in a deep,
country drawl that didn’t seem to match up with his persona. He
stopped pacing and kneeled down in front of Shade, his thick
eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Shade opened her mouth to speak, but the
words caught in her throat. She glanced at her sister for any
amount of reassurance, but she found none. Rikka didn’t even cut
her eye in her direction.

“The answer’s not over there, darlin’.”

Shade snapped her head forward, meeting the
man’s eye. “I… I didn’t have a reason to shoot him. If he died
because of me, it would have been murder. I don’t want to be a
murderer.”

“That… is a good answer.” He nodded slowly as
he stood and started pacing again. “I have a rule. I can kill for
one of three reasons, and only three reasons. One—” he held up a
finger—“family. Like the lovely people you see around you. Two,
mercy. Like you saw a little while ago. Or three, revenge.”

He looked pointedly at Shade, his eyes
turning icy. Her breath caught in her lungs as she imagined her
head exploding under the power of the magnum he wore on his
hip.

“Now, you broke in and start shooting up my
house. You knock out one of my guys and killed two others. And
though it was admirable that you tried to save one—a gunshot wound
to the chest is not something we’re equipped to handle. That being
said, you should consider yourselves lucky you didn’t kill anyone
else. Derek and Jeremy—the corpses in the living room—were lazy
cunts who ate twice as much as they were worth. I was thinking
about shooting them myself, but…” he shrugged, “they’re family.
Well, they were, anyway.” He took a deep breath and poked his lips
out as he looked around at his comrades. “I know most of you barely
knew them, but any hard feelings?”

Before they had a chance to answer, Rikka
interjected. “You’re wrong about one thing,” she said in a calm but
chilled voice. “This isn’t your house.” She glanced over at the
bookshelf to her right and nodded towards one of their only family
photos in existence. “Take a look.”

Mr. .44 Magnum followed her gaze over to the
bookshelf and plucked the picture off, knocking down some of the
trinkets beside it. “Huh. Well, I’ll be…” he said, holding the
picture so he could glance from it to the sisters with ease. “Where
are the other three? Your mom, dad, and little sister?”