“What have you to tell me?” President Angler questioned. His voice was quiet. Two menacing men stood on either side of him. The President never went anywhere without Beefy and Burley.
Three weeks had passed since the president’s men had picked up Riley. He’d been wandering rather hopelessly through the mountains, adrift without Zach, without his rifle, which he’d lost while escaping the undead. They’d took him in and at first he’d been grateful, but now Riley was sick of doing this man’s bidding, scouting the mountains all day for little reward.
The President cleared his throat impatiently.
“There’s a settlement,” Riley spoke, still staring down at the floor. A sharp pain shot through his leg, traveling from knee to groin and he let out a grunt of discomfort.
“Stand up,” President Angler instructed.
Riley complied gladly. They were in a large utility room that reminded Riley of the multipurpose room in elementary school. More men, armed and rigid, fanned out behind the President. The man himself sat in an over-stuffed easy chair. Someone had thrown a red blanket over the back, making it look rather kingly.
Riley grimaced, trying to ignore the stiffness of his lower back. The president gestured for him to continue.
“There’s a small town about six miles east of here,” he cleared his throat again. “They’ve got it barricaded up pretty good. I snuck in at night and didn’t see no men. There were a couple of women on duty minding the perimeter but they were easy to get past.”
“Anything else?” President Angler inquired, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“They had a lot of food,” Riley responded, stomach rumbling. He’d been out all night and it was long past time for breakfast.
The President laughed, slapping the arm of the chair. The kingly blanket fell from the armrest, displaying the threadbare fabric beneath. “You did well,” Angler responded.
Riley dipped his head, feeling a mixture of annoyance and pride. His father had never shown any interest in Riley or cared to compliment the things he did well. The approval of any authoritarian man caused a reluctant bud of gratification to bloom.
Angler turned to his entourage, “You,” he pointed to a tall, slender man with dark brown hair and an overgrown beard.
“Fred, sir,” the man responded, ducking his head deferentially.
“Fred,” Angler spoke with the ghost of a smile on his lips. His attention migrated across the room where there was a small cluster of woman. They sat on an expansive quilt dressed in their underthings or less. The women conversed between themselves in low voices; occasionally shooting fearful looks at Angler. The President grinned unpleasantly, eyeing one busty woman in particular. She sat in a pair of black panties and a see-through tank top. Her long brown hair fell across her face, tickling the dark flesh of her thighs.
“Take Riley to get some food and let him have a couple hours rest. Then pick out four good men and be ready to go out. Take the Deuce.” Angler turned his gaze back to Riley and Fred, sunken eyes sparkling maliciously, hungrily. “You will lead them to this encampment, subdue the woman and bring them back to me.”
Fred nodded, lips pursed. Disapproval was clear in his expression before he quickly controlled his face. The President did not notice, which was lucky for Fred. Angler had fierce punishments for disobedience. There were six bicycle lockers at the back of the property, man-sized metal boxes with a lock and key. They grew quite hot and humid after a day or two enclosed within, leaving many a man and not a few women to swelter and scream to be let out. Then there was his bullwhip. The President kept it locked in his office in an old metal safe. Angler was not shy in its use. Many of his people sported thin scars that trickled down their backs and buttocks.
“Collect all of the food and supplies that you can but the woman are the priority.”
The room fell silent, only the pattering of rain on the roof could be heard. Riley’s stomach rumbled again and he felt light headed with fatigue.
“Dismissed!” the president declared.
“Come on, man,” Fred grumbled, grabbing Riley by the arm and leading him from the room.
They moved outside through the main doors. The pounding rain swallowed the sound of President’s maniacal laughter. Riley felt better away from Angler and filled his lungs with clean air. He followed Fred toward the solders’ barracks with a lighter heart.
The End … For Now
Erin’s Bio
Erin E. Breckenridge lives in North Sacramento with her husband, Danny, a large dog and many cats. She has been enthralled with reading most of her life and it was only natural to take up the mantle of writing.
Art in all its many form runs through her family tree, decorating it with sculptors, painters, singers, musicians, tattoo artists and writers. Erin’s father and mother fostered her talents and interests from a very young age, encouraging her to explore music and art. She struggled for a time, having some talent with the piano and saxophone, sketching and singing, but never found her true passion. In her mid-twenties, she took a series of writing classes and discovered her medium. Erin fell in love immediately with writing and hasn’t regretted a moment.
Blight Part 2 … Coming Soon
Henry stood tall over the desecrated corpse of a dark-skinned woman. She was nude from the waist down and there were slashes in the meat of her thigh, white bone showed through the carnage. Her face was contorted in a final scream.
A rain scented breeze blew through the clearing, bringing with it the smell of decay. Henry wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes to keep them from watering. He brushed his hair, which had
