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Paying no mind to the pissed off muscle-head, I naturally followed her. No way in hell was she going in that house without me.
“I got em, Z,” Maliki assured, appearing at my back a second later.
We re-weaved around all the debris in the yard, readying ourselves to enter a den of flesh eating carnivores.
Passing by the pot, I glanced over at Maliki to make sure he was okay.
I hadn’t known Ace well, or at all really. From our short time together he seemed like the kind of person you’d want to have on your side. He didn’t deserve to be cooked up for some weak asshole’s dinner.
And weak was exactly what cannibals were. They didn’t have the means, be it mental or physical to provide for themselves or their families like hundreds of other people in the Badlands had to do, so they resorted to this. It may have been hard to get your hands on a cow, pig, or chicken, but there was never a shortage of human.
“We always lose some of the newer recruits from time to time, but this shouldn’t have happened to him. He was supposed to be safe with us.”
“This wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known someone would take him.”
He slightly raised his brows. “Where in there did you hear me blame myself?”
Of course, he would never do such a thing. Asshole.
“How many rounds do you have?” he asked after a beat, nodding to the gun now in my hand.
“I’m full. You?”
“Minus one thanks to Buddy’s skull.”
“I’m good too,” Addy stated, flicking off her safety.
Greer saw us approaching vigilante style, and was instantly tuned in to what we were doing.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
“No, Zane and Darrian are still at the back of the yard, make sure nothing heads that way,” Maliki replied. To us, “If we go in quiet we may be able to catch them off guard.”
“So in other words don’t kick the door down?”
“Satanas, Addy, no. Try the knob first.”
I gently shoved her out of my way and twisted the rotting handle. With a tiny squeak it popped right open and gave us entry to a kitchen—a surprisingly clean kitchen. But even with all its cleanliness the peculiar smell coming from an old cook-top could not be masked.
I stepped in first, the Glock secured in my hands and slightly raised. Addy and Maliki were like extra layers of skin following right behind me. He shut the door and we stood for a few seconds, trying to get a better idea of the homes layout.
“Dining room,” Maliki said, pointing his Springfield’s barrel to the doorway off the right of the kitchen. “Living room.” Pointing to the obscured doorway ahead of us. “Bedrooms and a bathroom are going to be on left side of a hall.”
I nodded and began to creep forward, remaining in the lead. “She isn’t screaming anymore. When did she stop?” I whispered.
“About four minutes ago,” Addy answered.
Another nod and then I kept my mouth shut. Boots moving silently over mellow yellow flooring, I ignored a plate on the counter with something sitting in a pile of some saucy substance.
On the stove a brown rusted pot was filled with potatoes and some type of meat that had been browned—meat that obviously wasn’t from a cow or pig.
Hearing low voices and the soft sound of someone crying, I cautiously peeled back the black sheet hanging across the doorway. The hall beyond was dark, but light spilled from a room three doors down.
I edged forward keeping a close eye on each door that was shut in case someone was lurking behind them.
From a gruff voice, “Too much stress,” drifted into the hall followed by a feeble, “Let me see my baby.”
“Your baby is dead,” an older woman’s voice replied.
