Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9), A American [top android ebook reader TXT] 📗

“Oaky. It’ll be ready in the morning.”

He clapped his hands together. “Perfect.” He hopped backwards and pointed at me. “You’re the man, Morgan.” Then he spun around and trotted back towards his house.

I shook my head, smiling as I headed down the road. Finally making it to the house, I started to pluck the bright pink flowers from the azalea bushes. Once the bucket was full, I headed towards home. When I came out onto the road, Meat Head and Drake came trotting up. They were panting heavily and whining. I stopped and patted Meat Head.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” I looked down the road and asked, “Where’s your sister?”

Drake looked down the road, then back at me. He trotted down the road towards the highway, then stopped and looked back at me. Meat Head licked my hand and whined again. I stood up and started towards Drake. Meat Head took off at a run towards Drake. The two dogs waited as I walked towards them, then ran off as I got closer.

I’m not one to think dogs are of superior intellect, but you certainly build a relationship with the animals over the years. You get to where you can read them, and they can read you. And it was obvious they were trying to tell me something. And the fact Little Sister wasn’t with them was very worrying. I thought she could be hurt. For an instant, the image of her being hit by a car flashed into my mind. But I dismissed it just as quickly. There’d have to be cars on the road for that to happen.

The dogs turned north, running up the center of the road. They were moving way faster than I was. But they would stop and wait for me to close the distance before taking off again. They turned west and headed into the woods. Bad memories rushed back to me of Reggie’s niece. We were headed towards Baptist lake.

I tried to avoid further memories of Reggie by thinking of the dogs. I always wondered where they went when they ran off, and they obviously roamed further than I imagined. They continued to lead me into the woods. They seemed very anxious, almost desperate for me to follow them. I was getting a little annoyed. We were far from home and no one knew I’d left. No one knew where I was.

As that thought began to form in my mind, I started to hear voices. The dogs’ attitudes changed as well. They slowed down and began moving stealthily through the woods. It was then I realized I didn’t have my rifle. All I had was my pistol. Shit, I muttered to myself as I pulled the .45. It was pure instinct when the weapon came from its holster that my fingers would run over the chamber and striker indicators. Both were positive, the pistol was ready to go.

The smell of wood smoke started to drift through the air. Then, the smell of cooking meat. My stomach started to churn as a fear crept up in me, the sudden realization of where the dogs were taking me and what I was about to see.

The dogs stopped and looked back at me. I slowly moved up to them, pausing to rub Drake’s ears. I picked my steps carefully as I closed the distance between myself and what I now knew was two men. Moving closer, they came into view. The two men were sitting on a log, their backs to me, with a fire burning in front of them. A large piece of meat was on a spit over the fire.

They looked like all the scavengers I had seen since the Event. Unlike people in town who tried to keep some semblance of appearance, the people who wandered the woods were always ratty looking. Both had long, wild hair and beards to match. Their clothes had a sheen of grime to them, and experience told me they’d smell like hot garbage.

I looked around their camp and saw a skinned carcass hanging from a tree. Below it was a pile of offal and white fur. I nearly puked and my head began to spin as the realization of that terrible thought I’d had while walking in set in. They were cooking my dog.

Restraining myself for a moment, I looked the camp over. There was a .22 rifle leaned against the tree that the carcass swung from. I didn’t see any other guns. I slipped the ASP from my vest and gripped it tight. I was about thirty feet from the men, a long distance to close. I wanted to just shoot them. And yet, I didn’t. I started to close the distance to them as fast as I could, while trying to be quiet.

But it wasn’t enough. About ten feet from them, they both turned to look over their shoulders. Both men immediately jumped to their feet. One was holding a large knife, like a big kitchen knife. The other looked at the rifle. I dropped the ASP and raised the pistol in a two-handed grip.

“Don’t even fucking think about it!” I shouted.

The one with the knife gripped it tight. I could see in his eyes he was ready to fight. “You toss that blade into the woods before I kill you,” I said as calmly as I could.

The other two dogs came running into the camp. I heard them come past me and saw when the two men noticed them as well. I could see the recognition in their eyes. The one man still had the knife, and I told him again to throw it into the woods. His friend looked at him, and as yet, neither man had said a word.

The one with the knife nodded at me. “You the Sheriff?” I nodded and he took another look at the knife before tossing it into the woods.

I motioned with the pistol. “Sit down on that log.”

The two men shared a glance, then reluctantly sat down. The