A Powerless World , Hunt, Jack [easy novels to read txt] 📗

saw her and darted over. Before he dropped down beside her, he glanced into the room, then turned his head away. Jessie crossed the space, expecting to see another person scalped. Sure enough, it was another victim, except this one was a child — a boy, no older than eight at a rough guess.

“Take her out of here,” Jessie said to Matt.

He nodded and helped her to her feet.

Jessie took a sheet and covered the child.

After clearing the house, he exited and took a deep breath, steadying himself against the brick exterior. His gag reflex kicked in and he tasted bile in his mouth. He’d seen a lot of nasty shit in his time but that was on another level. All of the victims had been scalped, whether they were alive when it happened was unknown. He hoped not. Matt was comforting his mother who looked beside herself.

It was one thing to loot, even to shoot someone. Scalping was just sick. That kind of behavior hadn’t been seen since the 1800s and early 1900s at the time of the Plains Wars. Jessie made his way over to the truck. Chloe was crouched, breathing hard, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Hey, doc.”

At first, she didn’t respond.

As much as he didn’t want to be insensitive to the moment, he had Lincoln to think about. “Chloe, whose home is this?”

It took her a second to gather herself. “Doctor Bud Hamilton. He worked in Weaverville at the hospital but helped out from time to time at the clinic.”

“And the blood?”

The very mention of blood made her look at the trail going into the home. She nodded and rose to her feet. “You okay, Mom?” Matt asked, keeping a firm hold on her. She nodded and walked toward the house. Jessie followed. Before she entered, Jessie went in and covered all of the bodies in the house with sheets to save her the shock of seeing them again.

“After multiple attacks in Weaverville, and some of the surrounding towns, Bud thought it was best to hold most of the medical supplies at his home,” she said, leading him through to the back of the house, where there were several small freezers and refrigerators. They had been powered by a solar generator. She opened the first to find it empty. The next was the same deal. “No, no,” Chloe said, crouching and opening the cupboards, one after the other, only to find them picked clean.

All Jessie could think of was what this meant for Lincoln. “Ron Whiteman. You didn’t seem shocked by his reaction when I told you he attacked my brother. Why not?”

She looked at him then placed both hands on her knees. “Two weeks ago we began to hear about residential home invasions in neighboring towns. My mother-in-law lives in Junction City, north of here, just west of Weaverville.”

“Is that why you were in that storm cellar?”

She nodded, not looking at him. Matt stood by the door, silent, his finger near the trigger of his rifle, looking back into the corridor just in case whoever had done this returned. “My husband went to make sure she was okay. He found her dead, her scalp removed.” She paused for a second or two. “We headed into Weaverville to tell Trinity County Sheriff’s Office but they had their hands full dealing with their own issues. A lack of transportation, cops who quit, and a surge of home invasions. They had us fill out some paperwork but that was two weeks ago.”

“Where’s your husband now?”

Jessie’s gaze bounced between her and her son. “Dead.”

“The same?”

“After finding his mother, he spiraled down, decided he wanted to find out who was doing this. He took a hunting buddy of his, some rifles, and headed to Junction City, thinking the same people would return. After a week, Matt and I headed up there, and…” she trailed off. It was clearly difficult to talk about. “We found him and his friend. I mean, we found what remained of them. Two bodies inside a charred home. Unrecognizable.”

“How did you know it was him?”

She reached into her shirt and pulled out a chain with a gold ring attached to it. “It belonged to him. When we got our wedding bands, we had them engraved. I found it on one of the charred bodies.”

“What do you think happened?”

She ran a hand over her face. “I don’t know. Maybe they were helping someone who crossed them. Maybe they ran into the same people.” She shook her head, unable to deal with it. Matt walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

She touched his hand and kissed it. Jessie had never really seen that kind of love from his mother. The few times she’d acted as if she cared, it was usually because she wanted something in return. And usually, it was illegal.

“Is that why we aren’t seeing anyone in town?”

“People are scared. Most left the county. Others headed into Weaverville where there was more law and order. The rest, I’m not sure about. We hadn’t seen a lot of home invasions here but whoever is doing this must have been working their way through each of the towns in Trinity County.” She looked at him. “Where are you from?”

“Humboldt. Garberville.”

“And you haven’t seen this?”

“Not so far. I mean, we’ve had looting and a few home invasions but nothing like this,” he replied.

She sighed.

“Would the Weaverville hospital have blood?”

“Not after a month. Like I said. The situation has gotten dire. The number of people who need blood because of gunshot wounds has gone up. I didn’t even know if we had blood for your brother. I was just going to check with Bud but…” She brought a hand up over her eyes and shook her head.

“This is so messed up,” Jessie said, bringing a closed fist to his mouth. “Shit.”

“You applied a tourniquet and cauterized the wound. He may still live.”

“May?”

“Survival rates depend on the extent of an injury, the speed you get treatment,