The Cellar: A Post-Apocalyptic Novella (8 page)

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded frantic.

“My leg!” Daren clutched his calf. He felt the distinct shape of an arrowhead in his skin.

Lara blanched and covered her mouth when she saw his injury. He grasped the shaft and clenched his jaw. He screamed through his teeth as he wrenched out the arrow from his leg.

She looked frightened. “Can you get up?”

“I think so.”

He attempted to stand but howled when he tried to stand on his injured leg. He placed his hand on a tree and leaned on it for support while he lifted his foot.

“If we weren’t screwed before…”

Lara’s eyes welled up. “I told you I was holding you back.”

He didn’t tell her to run. There was no point. Moments later, they were surrounded by over a dozen raiders. Maces, axes, and scythes glinted in the torchlight. Daren looked at the circular patterns of burn scars on their arms, chests and faces. If they were so eager to inflict agony on themselves, there was no telling what they’d do to Lara and him.

Molar Woman, who now had mostly molars remaining in her mouth, stepped forward and grabbed Daren’s face. Her fingers pressed his cheeks together causing his lips to pucker up.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” She hissed through the wide gap where her front teeth had been.

She raised her knife to his face and scraped the tip slowly across his cheek. Daren winced at the cold touch of the blade. Bryson came up from behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“There’ll be time enough for that, Magda,” he said. “Right now I need to know”—he reached into Daren’s coat pocket and pulled out a can—“where these young ones came across these goods.”

“We just found them lying in the forest,” Daren replied. “Like I told you before.”

The thin line of Bryson’s lips curved up into a grin. He pulled his arm back and smashed his fist into Daren’s face. Lara cried out. Daren held the tree for support, feeling blood tickle the lining of his nostrils.

“That was for throwing dust in my eyes.” Bryson’s voice remained calm. “Now someone tell me where you found the food or—”

“We bought them from a trader in the West Valley,” Lara spoke up quickly. “We have no idea where he gets it.”

Bryson rotated his head to look at her. He walked over to her while sweeping his gaze from her head to her feet. Daren did not like the way his eyes lingered on certain areas. Considering the state of the raider women, he could only wonder how long Bryson could restrain himself.

“You see, I
know
you’re lying.” He stroked the braids on his beard. “We’ve already robbed and killed every trader for miles around.”

Bryson lifted a lock of Lara’s hair. He gazed at it as he rubbed it in his fingers. Her lower lip quivered as she watched him.

“Come to think of it, we’ve also managed to kill or co-opt all the other raider clans.” Bryson lifted his eyes to ogle her. “Annihilation of the competition is the best solution.”

Daren had to deflect Bryson’s attention back to him. He could almost read the thoughts running through Bryson’s shiny dome as his eyes raked all over her.

“I’ll lead you to the food storage,” Daren said. “This time I’ll promise to take you to the right place.”

“Cross your heart?” Bryson raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I’m less inclined to believe you now.”

He turned back to Lara and took her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She grimaced and turned away from him. Daren tried to lunge, but Magda the Molar Woman held a scythe to his throat.

“This young lady, if I’m not mistaken, definitely knows where the food is.” Bryson eyed Lara. “She’s been playing the Angel of Death to ferry goods from one place to another unmolested.”

Lara looked away from Bryson, her green eyes staring up to avoid his gaze. She shivered slightly as she tried to maintain her composure.

“I must say you’ve done a brilliant job frightening every superstitious simpleton you’ve come across.” Bryson sounded impressed. “You have to tell me where you acquired that wonderful wheeled device.”

Lara didn’t say anything. She kept silently defiant as she stood firmly in place.

“You’ve got steel, my girl.” Bryson bared his fanglike teeth. “I’ll certainly enjoy getting to know you.”

Daren felt rage course through him. “Every single one of you is going to be sorry. My village knows I’m missing, and they’ve sent a search party looking for me. They’re damned good fighters, too.”

Bryson walked back over to Daren, his thick eyebrows merging into one as he glared into his eyes. Daren swallowed as he felt his heart race. At least, Bryson was leaving Lara alone.

“Those were
your
people?”

Daren’s blood ran cold. “You’ve seen them?”

“Seen them?” Bryson gnashed his teeth together. “They’re the reason half of my clan is gone.”

Daren felt worried. They obviously had a bitter skirmish with the raiders. Who came on the search party? “Was there a woman wearing an eye patch?”

“A relative of yours?” Bryson rubbed his chin. “Rather ferocious, I must say. She single handedly took down five of my people.”

“What happened to her?”

“I would like to say dismembered.” Bryson betrayed some disappointment. “But she managed to get away and so did a few others. Although we didn’t come from the battle empty-handed.”

Bryson nodded to one of his men, who came forward with a sack. He took it, reached inside, and tossed an object on the ground. It bounced and rolled to a stop at Lara’s feet. She screamed when she saw a severed head staring up at her. Its red hair and stubble were unmistakable.

“Logan.” Daren’s voice turned hoarse.

“Oh, was that his name?” Bryson asked. “He loved knives. Went into battle throwing knives. And then he ran out of knives.”

A round of chuckles erupted from the others.

Bryson stepped towards Lara and kicked Logan’s head. It soared in a high arc over some shrubs. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s time to get down to business.”

He grabbed a fistful of Lara’s hair and yanked her head back. She shrieked in pain. Daren tried to move towards her but Magda held him and pressed her scythe against his chest. Bryson brought Lara’s face close to his as she struggled against his grip.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Bryson said, breathing on her. “I’ll leave you undamaged for recreation later. But your boyfriend here is a different matter.” Keeping a tight grip on her hair, he made her face Daren. “If you do not tell me what I want to know, I will personally ensure his last words will be used to beg for his death.”

Tears streamed down her face as sobs racked her body. While Daren’s heart went out to her, he began to feel real terror at Bryson’s threat.

“Perhaps a little demonstration?” Bryson said. He nodded to Magda who in turn signaled two other raiders. They came over and held Daren’s arms to keep them in place. Daren strained against his captors but all he could manage was a feeble writhing.

Magda took an arrow, red hot from being placed on a flame, and pressed the flat end on Daren’s wound.

“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!”

Blinding, unbearable agony threatened to shatter Daren’s mind. He smelled the sickening odor of burning flesh. Horror engulfed him when he realized it was his own.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Lara screamed. “Please stop! I’ll show you where it is!”

On a signal from Bryson, Magda pulled away the arrowhead. Daren sank to his knees and wiped away the tears of pain and terror from his eyes. He hated himself for breaking down in front of them.

“Technically, that wasn’t even torture.” Bryson pushed Lara’s head down, causing her to stumble on the ground. “I was just helping to stave off infection.”

⊕
 
⊕
 
⊕

L
ARA
LED
THE
WAY
DOWN
the concrete stairs as the entire raiding clan followed her to the bunker. Daren hopped along with a makeshift crutch. The searing pain in his leg was unrelenting, and he grimaced with every step he took. Soon they were in the hallway of the bunker facing the cellar door.

“This place is very well constructed.” Bryson looked around. “We could definitely use this as a base.”

“Glad you approve,” Daren mumbled.

Lara walked over to the cellar door and turned the wheel. She opened the door, stepped inside, and switched on the ceiling lamps. The raiders were startled by the sudden appearance of light.

“Witchcraft!” someone in the back yelled.

“Quiet!” Bryson ordered. He moved over to the entrance of the cellar and peeked inside.

“Well?” Lara asked. “Is all that enough for you?”

“Astonishing!” Bryson gaped in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life!”

The clan leader stepped inside while Lara came out into the hallway. The others pressed forward to get a peek. Someone shoved Daren aside, which made him crash into the wall. Lara rushed over to help him up.

“Look at all that!” Magda pushed her way through to the cellar. “This can feed us ten times over!”

A man with a spiky mohawk followed. “I can smell all the food!”

The starved raiders couldn’t resist anymore. All seventeen of them stormed the cellar. Lara and Daren peeked inside to look at them. Some tore open sacks of rice and shoved uncooked grains in their mouths. Others used their weapons to hack open containers. One burly raider smashed his axe on a can of chickpeas, which caused the contents to splatter all over the floor. Several other raiders dove to the ground and shoveled handfuls of chickpeas in their mouths. Bryson tried to stop them from finishing the food.

“Are they all in there?” Lara asked Daren.

“Every last one,” he replied.

Lara looked at Daren and nodded. It only took him a second to know what she was thinking. They placed their hands on the door and slammed it shut. Lara turned the hand wheel as fast as she could until it locked. From inside they heard scrambling and shouting. A dozen fists and weapons pounded on the door. The racket filled the entire bunker, making both of them cover their ears.

And then…silence.

There were no more voices. No more pounding. No one trying to get out.

“You think they’re gone?” Lara asked.

“I’d wait a few months just to be sure,” Daren said. “Long enough for all the food to run out and have them die from starvation.”

“Don’t be such a wuss.”

“Riiight, the guy who got tortured for you is a wuss.”

Lara turned the hand wheel back. She pulled open the door. The room was dark, though Daren half expected Magda to leap out with a flaming arrow.

Lara reached in and turned on the lights. Everything was exactly where they left it. No chickpeas on the floor and no raiders making gluttons of themselves. It was like it never happened.

Daren looked at the neatly stocked shelves. “They’re gone.”

“Where do you think they are?” Lara asked.

“Wherever it is, I hope they’ve gone to a much worse place.”

They stood there silently gazing at their largesse. Then Daren remembered something Murphy had told him on the night the village had dined on the meager catch he’d brought home.

“Do you remember the prophecy about the Angel of Death?”

“Which one?” Lara asked.

“The one about the final harvest.”

“Oh that one. My dad used to repeat that all the time.”

“How did it go again?”

“In the last days, the Angel of Death shall appear in human form and walk the earth,” Lara recited, “to enact the final harvest of the damned.”

Daren looked in the cellar that once contained seventeen homicidal raiders.

“I think you might have fulfilled the prophecy.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “No shit.”

“By the way,” he said, facing her. “How
did
you carry me all the way down here when I was unconscious?”

“It’s a mystery.” She smiled at him. “Just like this room.”

Daren gave her a look.

“Fine.” Lara placed her hands on her hips. “I slumped you over the wheeled platform and tied you to it. Then I rode it all the way to the entrance.”

“Ooookay.” Daren drew back from her. “And how did you get me down the stairs?”

Lara looked down, apparently guilty of some atrocity.

“Lara?”

“I strapped you to a sheet of plywood,” she said, “then I…uhm…slid you down the stairs.”

“Are. You. Kidding me?” Daren shouted. “I could’ve been killed!”

“But you weren’t,” Lara said. “So drop it already.”

“Drop it? Drop it? You shoved my unconscious body down a flight of stairs! You can’t just expect me to pretend like—”

Lara grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her. She kissed him squarely on the lips. Utter shock and joy turned his tendons into mush. Daren felt suspended in midair. After she finally let go, he was left stunned and slack-jawed.

“Feel better now?” She twirled her hair with her finger.

Daren closed his eyes, smiled, and exhaled slowly.

“You have no idea.”

⊕
 
⊕
 
⊕

S
HERIFF
G
ARRISON
TURNED
ON
THE
wiper to sweep the bug splatter off his windshield. He cursed under his breath as he saw what was ahead. Several news vans were parked near the closed gate while reporters and camera crew milled about. The perky brunette from Channel 8 News saw his cruiser approach and headed straight towards him. Before he could press the button to raise the window, she had the microphone shoved in his face.

“Sheriff, could you care to comment on the bloodbath?”

“I can’t say anything at this time.” He raised his palm to her. “My office will release a statement later today.”

“Do you know how many were killed or how the confrontation began?” She moved the mike closer to his mouth.

“No comment!”

He pushed microphone away and closed the window. Pounding the horn with the heel of his palm, he drove right up to the beige-colored gate. The gate slid over to one side, revealing a paved driveway winding through a densely forested area. Several deputies manning the gate blocked the news crews from entering. As soon as Garrison drove in, the gate slid back into place. He reached for his radio to call his senior deputy, but it fizzled out and died. He swore and slammed it down. The county budget cuts were getting ridiculous.