Corn Husking After the Apocalypse: Nebraska Apocalypse Trilogy, #3

By Felicia Jedlicka

3 months later: Lenore's life has gone from bad to worse since Priest left. Not only did she lose the only man she ever really loved, but her arch nemesis is trying to fill the void. Poisoning her dreams with psychosexual torture, Adrian Dorn is baiting her to return to the tournaments. Between lack of sleep and the usual lack of enthusiasm for being a hero, Lenore isn't quite ready to deal with pirates, exorcism, and one innately vexing grim. But that's just the beginning. It's a long road to figuring out herself, as well as the bad guys, but with some help from new and old friends she will discover here destiny, and more importantly, she will stop fighting it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicia Jedlicka
• Release date: Jul 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310732997

Felicia Jedlicka

I'm going to put something here eventually. There's a reason I'll never write an autobiography.

Book preview

Prologue

"T his is Jimmy the Card , bringing you up-to-date news straight out of the Metro. For those of you looking for a weather report, go the fuck outside.

"Today's news is a statewide want ad for dead bodies. No, that's not a joke. Our illustrious Mayor Thompson has decided to add more grim to our concentration camp. He is allowing the outlying towns to bring in their inactive dead, and has even hired a few suicidal men to collect the live ones.

"The mayor has gone on record to say, ‘We need to take this burden off our neighbors. We here in the big O are better equipped to deal with this threat than farmers and housewives.’

"I’m not sure that Mayor Thompson is personally familiar with either one of those demographics, but I do know that he shouldn’t discount our small-town neighbors so quickly. He might be surprised to find out that shotguns and chef’s knives can be wielded quite efficiently in the right hands.

I don’t know what the rest of you think about this little plan, but I for one am all for it. After all, the crime rate in the north O was getting uncomfortably low. Let’s get that murder rate back up to an all-time high with the help of Mayor Thompson and his overpopulated-demonic-zombie babysitting service.

Damn Dogs

Icrouched down low behind the sundial at the south end of the park and waited for the ensemble of freelance jerks to get past me. There was a good number of people I avoided on a regular basis regardless of how well armed I was. First off, the grim. I was concerned that destroying the walking portals to hell would make live humans more susceptible to possession, so lately I had just avoided them altogether. That took a little explaining to my cohorts, but in the end they listened to whatever crap I spewed because they were finally convinced I knew what the hell I was doing. Not that I did, but lately I’d been putting up a front of stoic authority.

...and the Emmy goes to...

Next, I avoided the crazies. Aptly named, there were more than a few super survivalists, super religious, or super de-evolved citizens running around my small town. The survivalists generally stayed indoors or near their home, but I had fallen victim to that once already and I wasn’t going to let it happen again. The super religious types were best avoided for personal reasons. The same reason that everyone avoided Jehovah’s Witnesses—they were just damn annoying. The super de-evolved were people who had given up every rational function of existence and basically went back to living like cave men. They weren’t really dangerous, but they smelled really bad, so avoidance was the best protocol.

The group of men I was currently hiding from, however, were none of the above. They were just pirates. Some would call them a gang or a band, but I didn’t like the implication that they were vandals or musicians. In reality, pirates were human traders. The only things of real value left in this world were drugs, ammunition, and slaves. The pirates were people who dealt in all three, but they usually specialized in slaves.

I was armed and I could fight pretty well, but they traveled in groups of three or more, and were heavily armed and could also fight pretty well. I didn’t gamble much and the odds were definitely in their favor, so I hid.

At least, that was the plan.

The three pirates across the street were window shopping. By window-shopping, I mean they were looking for potential abductees who might have stopped into the stores for a few things. That was what I was there for, but luckily I knew to case the area before going in.

The human element in this rapturous hell was getting ridiculous. I almost wanted to shoot all three of them just to save someone else the hassle later, but gunshots would likely attract more attention than they were worth. I really needed to stop coming downtown.

I was nearly in the clear. The men were about to round the corner of the block and hopefully cross the tracks back to the hole they crawled out of, when a random stray dog started barking at me like I was a squeak toy under the couch.

I glowered at the yellow lab in the hope that I might have the ability to blow up his head with my mind. I had always liked dogs, but post-apocalypse they had all gone feral, or at least very not man’s-best-friend-ish.

The men took notice of the animal, and crossed the street to check out the commotion. I really didn’t want to get into a gunfight just for the sake of a few toiletries, but it looked like the decision was no longer mine.

Screw it. What's another bad day? Bring it on.

I stood with my arrow nocked in my bow. The gun would have been safer in the short term, but dangerous in the long term. Gunfire drew grim like flies to meat.

The first arrow hit one of them in the chest and he stumbled back, shocked by his sudden imminent death. I loaded the second arrow I had perched in my teeth for quick access. I shot it and ducked down, already prepared for the gunfire from the third man. I afforded a glance back to see if my second arrow was a fatal shot. Unfortunately, the intended victim had caught it in midair and was looking at it with curious fascination.

Oh, shit, I mumbled.

Shhhh!

Idove back down just in time to avoid becoming Swiss cheese. After a perfectly good clip was wasted on chipping the cement platform the sundial sat on, the men started the usual bad-guy dialogue.

You shouldn’t have brought a bow to a gun fight, little girl. The soon-to-be-dead one said.

I pulled my gun, jumped up, and shot the gunman while he was still loading a new clip. I, however, used one bullet, since I didn’t have an endless supply of ammunition. I didn’t.

I only caught a glimpse of the surprise on the arrow-catching bad guy’s face before I had to hide again. He ran off into the park to hide behind a cottonwood tree that was as old as the town. It might as well have been a house with the shielding it provided him. I underestimated you, he called out to me. I heard the click of his magazine as he finished taking inventory of his bullets.

No, you didn’t, I yelled back as I scanned the park for grim. They would be coming soon. I underestimated you, but only because catching arrows is a really rare skill.

It’s like catching a baseball. You just have to not be afraid to stick your hand out.

Yeah, but baseballs can’t go through your hand. I peeked out above my hiding spot. He was doing the same behind his tree. His gun was aimed, but he wasn’t firing yet. He was decked out in a black leather jacket and black denim. There wasn’t even a Harley in sight. The ragged dark hair reminded me of Priest’s, but it didn’t have the sheen. His beard was getting out of hand, but he hadn’t reached mountain-man stage yet.

I don’t suppose we could just call this a draw and walk away? I asked, semi-serious.

Sure, just bring me two of your friends to kill and we’ll be even, he answered.

Friends? Really? I peeked over the dial again.

Associates. I saw the edge of his shoulder shrug. I haven’t really known them long.

As far as I’m concerned slave traders deserve knives in the back, so don’t expect me to feel guilty for giving them quick deaths.

He looked at the body of the man closest to him. My shot had hit him clean through the head. Haden would have been proud.

They are a slimy bunch, aren’t they?

They?

Unfortunately, he continued, ignoring my dipped brow peeking over the sundial, they are the only ones with access to decent weapons. The military is hoarding the good stuff. The police have confiscated everything in the O. People like me have to come to podunk towns like this to get anything, and of course that means trading with these assholes.

Wait, you’re not—

Behind you! he shouted.

I should have suspected it to be a trap, but who really uses that trick anymore? I spun around just in time to see a grim silently sprinting across the grass at me. He launched himself at me like a long-jumping Olympian. With bullet conservation ever in the back of my mind—because I won’t deal with assholes like the two I just killed—I gripped my brass knuckles and held out my reinforced fist and locked my elbow. The descending grim impaled his face on my fist, shattering the fragile tissues of his skull and brain matter.

In an ideal world, the little bits of him would tink and ting when they hit the concrete around me, but alas, they didn’t. It sounded more like someone dropped a bag of M&Ms, minus the appeal of the chocolate.

Impressive, the biker man said just to my left next to the sundial. His weapon was still in hand, but only half raised.

Hey! I whipped back, pointing a finger at him as if that were my secret weapon. Keep your distance.

Do you want to take the next three, or should I? he asked, motioning to the north end of the park where three track-star grim were barreling across the lawn.

Goddammit! I griped through clenched teeth. I just wanted a fucking razor! Is it too much to ask that I not have hairy armpits? I was screaming, but I didn’t care. Biker Man offered me a small smile that was part amusement, part sympathy, and part discomfort. You deal with them. I’m so sick of killing grim. I walked toward the pharmacy for my razors. Waste of time anyway, I mumbled.

Three shots rang out in quick succession and I stopped midway across the street. I turned back around and watched the last grim fall from a fourth shot he used to finish it. Will you stop shooting your gun! You are just attracting more of them. Not to mention it’s a waste of bullets.

Since when is killing grim a waste of bullets? he asked, truly perplexed by my statement.

It’s like killing flies with a hammer. Yes, it will work, but why not just use a fly swatter?

Why would I need so many bullets if I wasn’t going to shoot grim?

I stared at him. He was the epitome of everything that was wrong with the human focus right now. "Because the bad guys—I mean the real bad guys—haven’t even popped their heads out yet. If I were you, I would save every last bullet I could for them."

Who...? He trailed off when the yowl of a grim sounded down the street from me. He looked over and his eyes widened a little. I didn’t even bother looking.

How many? I asked, more bored than frustrated.

Eight, no nine. What are they doing? he asked, like someone who had never really spent time with free-roaming grim before. He was used to the occasional escapee in the big O. He didn’t understand that the grim were less feral out here. They had plots, plans, and human instinct, with a big helping of demon impulse.

Are they lining up, waiting for someone to hike a football? I asked.

He looked at me, baffled that I was able to guess their behavior without turning around. How do you know that? Have you seen this before?

Yeah, right in front of me. I pointed down the opposite end of the street, where I was facing. He turned and saw the dozen or so grim that were lining up on the east side about to converge on us, sandwiching us in hand-delivered torture. 

Quick Friends

Itallied my arrows and I realized that I was going to be about four short. If I could trust Biker Man he could help me dispatch the other four. Another shot sounded, and one of my east grim fell as a result of my potential partner's overkill tactics. Stop shooting! It's like a damned dinner bell to them.

The grim charged forward.

Speaking of dinner. The man shifted away from me, whipping his head back and forth to keep his targets in sight.

It was too late to conspire against our mutual enemy, and too soon to get a read on his trustworthiness. I would just have to take this impromptu union on faith.

I started firing arrows in quick succession. Bring me my other two arrows! I yelled at him. He looked around for moment like he didn’t remember where I had put them. He ran over to his fallen business partner and yanked the first one out. Then he picked up the one he had caught and brought them both back to me, placing them in my quiver.

The west side is gaining. Can I please shoot them? he asked, already holding up his gun.

I finished dropping the east line with only a few left stumbling forward. They were slow enough that I could take them out by hand. I turned to the west and continued my quiet attack. Let me put it this way, I said in answer to his question. If you fire that gun one more time, I will shoot you in the leg and leave you here to distract the grim so I can escape.

And the other option is, we both die? he snarled lowering the gun and glaring at me.

City folk, I mumbled. I fired my last arrow and dropped my bow. I ran into the remaining herd with two blades drawn—perceivably from out of nowhere. With my brass knuckles overlapping the knife hilt I got another good shatterpunch in before I had to start resorting to kicking and slashing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my new friend/foe fighting the wounded grim on the east side. He was doing pretty well for a city boy. He caught on fast to their fragile nature. It took a pretty hard hit to stop one, but several battering hits could do the trick if your knuckles could hold out.

I dismantled the last grim on my side and panted while he finished up on his side. When he was done, he looked back at me with a smile that said he had enjoyed himself. I wiped away a little blood from my cut lip. A jab I shouldn’t have taken, but it was worth the pain to get the angle I wanted for the reciprocal hit.

You’re... He looked me over. A funny little smile played across his lips, like he was reading my life story and was just as amused by it as I was. Who are you?

He was asking me like I should be revealing my superhero identity to him, but I think he really just wanted my name. Lenore Evans. You?

Ian Katz, he said carefully, in case I might be able to hurt him with the knowledge.

If you’re not a slave trader, what are you?

He smiled proudly. I’m a grim hunter.

Oh, Christ, I mumbled. Self-appointed? Or do you guys have a club now? Not that grim hunting is worthy of a club. I mean crap, I just incapacitated two dozen in the last ten minutes.

He lost his smile and glared at me. I'm appointed by the mayor and I don’t incapacitate them, I gather them. I hunt them, catch them, and take them back to the O for the tournaments.

I didn’t know what to say about that. The mayor was now outsourcing for animate grim? He really was determined to destroy them all. It made me wonder if his motivations were his own, or if Adrian Dorn was influencing him.

The grim were a nuisance, but they weren’t the greatest threat to humanity’s tenuous hold on the Earth. As far as I had figured out, the grim were puppeteered by lost souls, the souls of former humans that had long since been trapped in hell by their own offenses. They were mad with the desire to share their pain and suffering with others, in any way they could. Usually that involved lots of pain and/or molestation.

Killing the grim, as it were, didn’t actually kill the maddened soul. The crystalline dead were just marionettes to act out their aggression. If you did enough damage to the body, the soul was essentially kicked out, but that didn’t mean you were truly rid of the evil. It was a fun pastime, but it wasn’t going to save any of us. There were still bigger agendas for the Earth, and frankly, the remaining human population was as much an annoyance to those planning those agendas as the grim were to us.

Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the tournaments, Ian asked.

I’ve been to several, I said, less than forthcoming that several of my friends were champions.

You should compete. They have an archery competition in a couple months. You would do very well. He looked me over again, this time a little slower. He apparently just realized I was a woman.

I probably hadn’t earned the part in his eyes. I generally kept my reddish brown hair cropped to my neck and layered around my face so it stayed out of my way. I hadn’t worn make-up in... a long time. I usually wore jeans, but with so many weapons to carry, I had switched to cargo pants. They did nothing for my figure, but I was armed head to toe.

That’s what they keep telling me, I said mildly. It had always been in the plans for me to compete, but I wasn’t sure that it served any purpose, other than to show off. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. Drawing attention to myself seemed like a bad idea.

"Who’s they?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to me. His change in demeanor was unmistakable. He stood taller and his chest stayed expanded. I wasn't sure if it was to impress me, or intimidate me.

My friends, I said. I made it a point to check the cartridge in my gun, just to remind him that I was armed. He may not have been a pirate, but that didn’t preclude him from being an asshole.

Your friends let you come out here by yourself? he asked, quirking a flirtatious smile at me. I’m not sure I would approve of that if I was your friend.

I’m not exactly defenseless. I nodded to the surrounding bodies.

Oh, right. He cleared his throat, suddenly remembering who he was talking to. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and his efforts to peacock diminished. Well, thanks for that... and not killing me.

Likewise. I nodded curtly and headed back toward the park to get to my four-wheeler.

Aren’t you going to get your razors? he asked.

I really did need some supplies, but I also needed to get out of there. Just in case the mismatch signals I was getting from this guy were more a miss than a match. I turned back and shook my head. It’s not worth the hassle. Besides, it’s not like I have anyone to impress. I mentally kicked myself for sounding so pathetic.

Do you... want... I mean... he stammered. I feel like I should offer to walk you home or something.

I smiled at that. He was trying to be chivalrous. I always appreciated that trait in a man.

No, that’s my ride over there. I pointed vaguely at the ATV tucked in beside the outdoor stage on the west side of the park. Thanks though. I started to move on and stopped. Oh, and I know it probably won’t make a difference, but you really should watch your back around here. The smaller towns tend to be big on the crazies.

With my warning heeded he headed south and I headed north. I reached my vehicle by the stage and unloaded my empty quiver onto the back. I should have gone back to collect my arrows, but I was already late, and Haden and Devin would be worried.

Well, Devin would be worried.

I sensed the danger just as the twig snapped behind me. I whipped around to face my attacker. His eyes widened with surprise and I punched him. He stumbled back, clutching his bloody nose. Three more men came around the back of the stage. They were wearing black robes adorned with oversized rosaries.

The centermost robed man, the tallest and oldest, brandished his cross like a weapon. The power of Christ compels YOU!

What the hell? I grumbled before a sharp pain in my lower back forced me to the ground. The ancillary hit to my head knocked me out.

Step into the Light

I don’t suppose you’re planning to baptize me? I asked the man that was nearly quartering me with tight ropes when I woke up. I was sprawled on a church altar like a human sacrifice being offered to a vengeful god. I didn’t recognize which church, but there were several in the area. This one was fairly archetypical: stained glass windows, statues of the Stations of the Cross between each one. The high vaulted ceilings offered the authority that Priest’s small church never could. It also made the religious experience seem cold and demanding.

Hey, freak, what do you want with me? I asked when my captor didn’t respond to my first question.

He looked up at me warily and scampered off to the head priest to tattle on me. Three men stood in the chancel together whispering, while their disciples knelt in the pews at the front of the church. They each took their turn to glare at me and I started to wonder how worried I should be.

I checked to see if they had disarmed me all of my weapons, but they had. My boots were even off, so I couldn’t hope to kick my way out. My only other chance would be to use my eloquent negotiation skills. Hey morons, I hate to tell you, but I won’t work as a virgin sacrifice. My bloom has long since been plucked.

The head priest—designated by the size of his cross—ascended to the altar and leaned over me. You are not being sacrificed, my dear. You are being cleansed. You have been taken by a demon, and I must release you from it.

I am not a demon! I screeched, offended that he could have come to such a conclusion.

I know that there is still a part of you that can be saved. I will separate you from the evil, and you will be free of its will.

What the hell are you talking about? I’m fine. I’m all human. I can recite the Our Father. Well, most of it; I always get tangled in the middle on a perpetual daily bread loop.

I’m sure you think you are, but I have seen this burden before. I can help you. Trust me.

I can’t do that, Father, but don’t worry, it’s not you; it’s me. I’ve been burned by your type before. I have trust issues with men who wear crosses. He smiled as if he was trying to offer me a token of kudos for my humor, but there was too much pity behind his eyes to soften his face. Okay, Father, so what are we talking: baptize me in holy water, group intervention, séance?

He glanced back at his fellow priests and ushered them forward. They placed a Bible in his hands and he kissed it before returning to face me. We are going to perform an exorcism, my child. He managed to say my child with as much empathy as condescension. This guy was definitely a priest.

What happens if you’re wrong? I asked, testing my bindings.

I’m not wrong, he assured me.

The two other leading priests joined him at the altar, effectively surrounding me. They threw holy water on me, and blessed me in Latin. The head priest began reading his Bible with determination, but the other two priests seemed nervous. I got the impression they were unfamiliar with the unwritten Catholic ritual. They held out their small crosses at me like they expected my flesh to burn in the presence of them.

I lay my head back down and watched the front row stare in awe of the ritual. I, however, yawned. I had already had my fill of blessings from Priest. This guy was not nearly as talented as he was, so I wasn’t expecting any moving experiences.

I could feel my eyes close, but I still had a sense of the room around me. The priests hastened their chants, and the crowd gasped. I chuckled, thinking how ridiculous the entire situation was. I knew I wasn’t a demon. Actually, I didn’t know that, but I thought it might have come up before now if I were.

It didn’t surprise me that I could smell the incense that had burned a thousand times inside the church. I could see the flicker of the nearby candles from behind my eyelids, but that was not strange. The priest’s rhythmic chanting was like a lullaby, but it didn’t disturb me. Feeling their minds touching mine, however, did bother me. 

I had a special knack for being able to see the truth in people, but usually I had to touch them physically. None of them were touching me, but yet I could feel their minds, all of their minds.

As I suspected, the two reluctant men were not priests, though father Edward had knighted them into the position after a few quick lessons on drinking wine and blessing bread. They were new to