Could I be safe here again? Could I replace the door and go back to living the way I have been? The thought of going back on the run makes my abs clench in frustration. A year spent living in random motel rooms, abandoned homes and cars has left me yearning for stability. And this lodge has given me that.
Never get complacent.
“To become complacent is to die,” I murmur, a whistle through my teeth. Sometimes I wish my memory wasn’t so good. Maybe then I could forget a few of my Master’s lessons.
I shake my head because I’m being as idiotic as some of my old teammates, all muscle and no brains. It’s my Master’s lessons that have kept me alive all this time.
For a moment I wonder when violence became so easy. Even in football I hated the violence, and yet now, I fight to kill whenever necessary. Whenever I’m threatened.
Easy. Too easy. What have I become?
Hex barks and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s saying. “I know, buddy, it’s time to move on,” I say.
Why did I even stay in the mountains for so long? Because the trail was cold? No. Because I was scared? Yeah, I’m scared and lonely sometimes, but that’s not it. Because I don’t want to know the truth about Xavier and Blythe? The answer cracks my head wide open with the slam of three letters: Y-E-S.
My dog jumps up, wags his tail, and makes his way to the open doorway, stopping only to look back and wait for me.
“You know, you could help pack,” I say.
He barks again, and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to convince me that there’s no time for packing. Again, he’s right.
If the red witch survived, it won’t take her long to return with reinforcements, and then the world will lose yet another witch hunter.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder, content with having a few bottles of water and bags of beef jerky to tide us over until we can scrounge up some more food. At least we’ve never had an issue finding food, which there is a healthy abundance of. Everything happened so fast and so many people died that there wasn’t even time for looting. All it takes is a stealthy jaunt into Walmart to grab a backpack load of nonperishables and you’re good to go.
“Not that way,” I tell Hex, and he follows me out the back door, down the porch steps and past the unused fire ring that once was likely the site of many a tall tale of the thirteen-point buck that got away.
Using my hands like flippers, I push between two bushes on the edge of the wood, letting their branches and leaves spring back behind me, hiding any evidence of where we entered the forest.
Birds sing overhead. If there is a gang of Electros nearby, they aren’t close yet. Listen to the birds, they’ll tell you the story of your enemies.
“I know, I know,” I mutter.
Hex leads the way through the thick undergrowth, along a path that only we know. It was once a game trail, but has now become overgrown and choked with weeds and roots.
Red and yellow and purple flowers float by on either side, and I sneeze. My allergies are coming back as the pollen count goes up, spring hurdling toward summer. It’s funny how in the middle of a witch apocalypse the world barely even seems to notice, just keeps going about its business, growing things and rotating on its axis and circling the sun, moving through the seasons. Does the earth even notice our struggles? Or are we nothing more than squatters on its blue/green/brown flanks?
We pass a massive tree that I usually sit under to read one of the many books I’ve accumulated since moving into the lodge. All left behind. The only book I brought—which only leaves my pack when I’m using it—is my journal, which I’ve been keeping since I was twelve. Between its nondescript brown covers are my thoughts and dreams and fears and anger, in the form of poetry, short stories, and journal entries. Sometimes I think writing is the only thing that keeps me sane.
As we cross a small creek that’s been our main source of water, Hex stops to drink. I watch him for a minute, his pink tongue lapping greedily at the moving water, marveling at how adaptable this dog has been. When I found him, he was malnourished, badly abused, and cowering in the shadow of a large black pot; a cauldron. His eyes were bloodshot and he flinched when I reached out to pet him. The spell casting witch he used to belong to—who met with a rather miraculous demise that included using mirrors to turn her own spells against her—had subjected Hex to all kinds of nasty tests involving her spells and potions. It seems she’d been playing the middle between the Brewers and the Casters, unwilling to commit herself to a single gang. Anyway, Hex still has some lingering effects from the experiments, which tend to exhibit themselves at the strangest of times, like when he once started floating upon seeing a lone pink balloon riding a gust of wind across the sky. I had to call his name a dozen times before he looked down and slowly sank back to the ground.
As we start walking again, I wonder whether the red witch discovering my hideaway was a blessing in disguise. After all, my mission isn’t going to complete itself, and although the months spent in the woods, only going out at night to hunt witches, has been mildly enjoyable, Xavier is still out there somewhere. Or at least I hope he is.
The Necros may have killed my adopted family and maybe Blythe, too, but I have to believe they kept Xavier alive. Someone I know has to be alive.
Don’t they?
Brew by David Estes, coming January 16, 2014!
Table of Contents
Book Four of the Dwellers Saga
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenny-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
David Estes, The Earth Dwellers
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends