DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum by Michael Anthony Page B

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