DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum

DeadEarth

Episode 1: Mr. .44 Magnum

by

Michael Anthony

Chapter 1: “Long goodbyes just hurt
more.”

Shade watched as the last leaf broke away
from the dying tree. As it fell, it danced and swayed on the gentle
breeze before coming to rest atop the corpses of those that fell
before it. The leaf died days ago, but was too stubborn to leave
the branch. When it did, Shade finally let go of the tinge of hope
it gave her—the hope that she would see an autumn tree or a vibrant
blade of grass ever again.

Tucking a loose strand of her short, black
hair behind her ear, she plucked the leaf from the ground and
crushed it in her hand. It was a stupid thing to do—to get back at
the leaf for destroying her hopes—but it gave her a slight bit of
satisfaction as it crunched and shattered beneath her fingers.

With a solemn gaze, she cast her dark brown
eyes over the sea of death that her mom once called their ‘Secret
Garden’. Their backyard was once robust with red roses, yellow
sunflowers, and pink rose thrifts. Honeysuckles, jasmines, and
allspice bushes dotted the perimeter, painting the air with a
myriad of scents that embodied springtime. When the northern wind
swept down through their horse ranch, Shade would always stop
whatever she was doing to savor the moment. It was a rare thing not
to smell the stench of horse manure that hung in the air like a
swarm of gnats.

But that seemed like forever ago. Over the
past month-and-a-half, every plant in the world suffered the same
fate as the tree before her. From the smallest sapling to the
tallest redwood, nothing was alive anymore. Even indoor greenery
shriveled and decayed in their pots.

Shade released the remnants of the leaf and
gazed once more at her old friend, the dead tree. She climbed it
every day when she was ten. Seven years later, she still knew the
best branches to hold on to, and which gave the best view of the
horses’ grazing pasture.

Not anymore though. The roots were starving
and the branches were weak. Much like the world, the tree wasn’t
safe anymore.

Shade turned her back on it and made her way
to the deck of her family’s two-story Georgian home. She sat on the
couch under the awning, closed her eyes, and let the sun’s warm
rays soothe her as she listened to the national news pouring from
the TV on the other side of the window.

“...geoepidemiologist Jackson Burts is
working on his third attempt to synthesize a probiotic nutrient
that will act as a temporary all-in-one replacement during this
catastrophic event. The President has issued a statement urging
farmers to harvest the meat of their livestock before they succumb
to starvation as the food-chain...” The news anchor fell silent for
a moment. That was never a good sign. “This just came in,” he
announced with renewed vigor in his voice. “The President, in
agreement with Congress, has suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus.
Martial law has been declared...”

“Ah shit.” Shade’s dad grumbled from the
living room as he flicked off the TV. He slammed the remote on the
coffee table as he sighed loudly. “Rikka, Lou, Shade,” he called to
his daughters. “Meet me in the stable in an hour.”

Shade searched the paint-chipped wood for her
father’s logic. What did martial law have to do with the stable?
Then it hit her. She leapt from the porch and darted towards the
horse barn fifty yards away from the house. She covered the
distance in record time. Throwing open the door, the horses pranced
and neighed uneasily as it creaked and slammed against the adjacent
wall. They had grown antsy since the earth started dying, and they
were getting worse every day—like they knew something Shade
didn’t.

She sprinted to her horse’s stall near the
back of the stable. Delilah poked her head out to greet her,
probing her hand for the apple she usually brought. Despite the
dire circumstances, Shade smiled and scratched her behind the ear
as she put her cheek against the horse’s.

“You’re going to be fine, old girl” she
whispered as she kissed Delilah’s nose. “I’ve got a plan.”

The door groaned again. Rikka, her older
sister, stood in the doorway looking around for her horse. He was a
flirtatious stallion, so she changed his stall daily. It was Lou’s
idea—to ‘keep the ladies from getting jealous’. Rikka always forgot
which mare she hooked him up with, but Shade remembered.

“He’s here,” she said, nodding to the horse
next to hers.

Rikka lifted her pant leg and kneeled to
remove the six inch blade from her ankle sheath. She gripped it so
the sharp steel extended from the bottom of her hand, then strode
purposefully towards her horse, Shadowless Night.

“Whoa, wait,” Shade yelled, stepping in front
of her sister’s horse. He fidgeted behind her, seeming to sense the
rising tension. “What are you going to do?” she asked, though she
already knew the answer.

Even though they were sisters—and born only
eleven months apart—Rikka and Shade were polar opposites in both
looks and disposition. Rikka was tall, long-haired, and had a
darker skin tone, while Shade had a caramel complexion, sported
shoulder length curly hair, and had a short stature. When it came
to temperament, Rikka was a black mamba. Short tempered and quick
to strike, she wasn’t afraid to break a knuckle on someone’s
face—even if that someone was her sister.

As the protective personality in her family,
Shade unwittingly spent most of her life at the focal point of
Rikka’s verbal and physical aggression. Their dad always joked that
Rikka was the sword and Shade was the shield, and if they ever set
aside their differences, they’d be an unstoppable pair. Fat chance
of that happening, but it didn’t stop Shade from trying to reason
with her.

“What Dad wants us to do.” Rikka attempted to
brush past Shade but she held her ground, grabbing her sister by
the wrist wielding the knife.

“You don’t know that.”

“Get out of my way, Shade. I’m really not in
the mood for this,” Rikka warned.

Shadowless Night put his head out over the
stable gate and nudged the younger sister, as if begging for her
protection. Shade gritted her teeth as she stared into her sister’s
eyes. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of
hesitance, but a blink later and they transformed into a cold, hard
brown. That’s when she knew Rikka couldn’t be reasoned with. If
Shade was going to save Shadowless Night, she would have to do it
by force.

Without a moment’s thought, she balled her
fist and swung at her sister. Rikka snatched her wrist out of
Shade’s hand, careful not to cut either of them with the knife, and
sidestepped, easily dodging the blow. With a quick left hook, Rikka
struck her sister just under the ribcage, delivering an
unrestrained liver punch. Shade tried to take a step back and jab
with her left hand, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Pain
reverberated inside of her as her legs gave out and she crumpled to
the ground. In the back of her mind, she knew what was happening,
but her limb’s unresponsiveness scared the shit out of her. She
would have panicked if it didn’t feel like she had just been run
through with a sword.

“Long goodbyes just hurt more,” Rikka said,
stepping over her sister to get to the horse.

Shade closed her eyes as sounds of the dying
steed filled the barn. Shadowless Night thrashed about in his
stall, his hooves knocking against the wood door and walls as he
struggled to remain upright despite his weakening body. Then the
sounds started again. Shade didn’t have to look back to know what
Rikka had done Delilah. She tried to neigh, but only an awful
gurgling sound escaped the gash in her throat as a waterfall of
blood collided with the ground.

The warm liquid oozed under the stall doors
and pooled on Shade’s back as her sister stepped around her.

“Consider it a favor,” she said. Rikka waited
a beat. Shade thought she would say more, but her sister left
without another word.

She laid there for a long moment, soothed not
by the gentle sounds of the other horses, but by the warmth of the
blood she didn’t have to spill. Her grandfather was a survivalist.
He passed the trait along to her father, and he to their mother—at
least until the divorce. Strength and preparation were prided
traits. Her dad gave them that hour to say goodbye to their horses,
to make it harder for his daughters when he made them kill them. He
was preparing Shade, Rikka, and Lou for the new world, and the laws
that would govern it.

Shade wanted nothing to do with the new
world.

She picked herself up, ignoring the heavy
blood that clung to her clothes. She couldn’t bring herself to look
back at the horses. Instead, she limped out of the barn. Lou, her
younger sister, stood just outside the door when she opened it. Lou
took one look at the blood soaked through Shade’s clothing and
darted towards the house without saying a word.

“Lou...” she called after her. But there was
no point. She was autistic, and seeing anything out of the ordinary
led to isolation and regression. And considering who their father
was, there was a lot of that. Rikka was the only one who could coax
her out of that state. She seemed to understand Lou on a deeper
level than anyone else, which was odd considering she had the
shortest temper of anyone Shade knew.

Walking towards the house, she wondered how
she would make it to her room without getting horse blood
everywhere. Thankfully, Rikka met her at the door with a wet towel
and a change of clothes. As Shade neared, she silently offered the
towel.

“Thanks,” Shade muttered. She took off her
shirt and threw it to the ground. Before wiping the blood off, she
inspected the bruise forming on her side.

“Sorry I punched you,” Rikka said.

Shade ignored her and concentrated on wiping
the blood from her arms and back. She knew the only reason Rikka
was apologizing was to get Dad off her back when he noticed Shade’s
limp and the inevitable bruise that would form. Shade would take
the blame—as she always did—but it didn’t mean she had to be happy
about it.

When her arms were as clean as possible, she
pulled off her pants and toweled down her legs. When she was done,
Rikka handed her the change of clothes. “I’m sor—” she began.

“I heard you the first time,” Shade spat.

The older sister’s jaw tightened as she
averted her gaze. That was another tactic of Rikka’s when she was
backed into a corner: invoke sympathy. Shade snatched the clothes
from her sister’s hand and put them on. After dressing, she picked
up the blood-soaked clothes and tossed them in the trash bin off
the side of the porch.

“You think he’s going to make Lou kill her
horse?” Rikka asked gently, seeming to test the waters.

Shade sighed and sat on the steps. She stared
at the barn, listening to the soft sounds of the dozen remaining
horses. “No, he’s going to make me do it. When he sees that Delilah
and Shadowless Night are dead, he’s going to know you killed them.
I’m probably going to have to kill Delilah’s foal too.” Shade’s
voice lacked all emotion as she prepared herself for the slaughter
she would soon take part in.

Rikka sat next to her sister and pulled the
knife from her ankle sheath. “I can’t do this one for you,” she
said, holding out the blade. Shade glanced at it, and then turned
away. Rikka sighed. “Look, unless they find a way to reverse what’s
happening, the world’s going to go to shit real quick. If you can’t
kill, then you’re going to be killed. There’s no other option.”

“If it was for you, Mom, Dad, or Lou, I
wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a moment.” Shade looked up, locking eyes
with her sibling. “But this is a test. What does killing a horse
prove?”

Rikka slammed the knife on the step beside
her sister and stood. From her body language, Shade knew she said
something to piss her off. Typical. “It proves that you can do what
must be done, Shade. Your problem is you think too damn much. Just
kill the fucking horse and be done with it.” Without another word,
she marched up the steps and back in the house, closing the door
behind her.

Shade glanced down at the knife. Her father
taught her how to use fists, knives, guns, swords, and her wit to
survive. He taught her everything he could to make her stronger and
smarter—to make her a survivor. But he couldn’t teach her how to
kill—how not to care about the life of another. That was a journey
she would have to take on her own. A journey he forced her to
take.

But Shade fought it every step of the way.
Rikka was mean and vengeful normally, but when she had to kill, her
heart grew black. Whether it was a chicken for dinner, or the horse
she loved, a darkness overcame her, and while engulfed in that
darkness, she was capable of anything. Shade didn’t want to become
like that. It scared her more than anything—to have no boundaries
or restraints. To be completely heartless.