Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) by A. American (ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Shane was at the other end of the trench with a group of men who were loading the bodies on a small wagon connected to an ATV that would carry them over to the trench where other men would place them into their final resting place. The bodies looked like something out of Civil War photographs. They were bloated and swollen. Blackened from lying exposed as space was made for them. Fluids ran from every opening and each body was torn apart to varying degrees. Many were in pieces and care was taken to try and keep the bodies together. Flies filled the air and the stench assaulted the nostrils under the brutal Florida heat. It really was a terrible scene.

As I walked towards Shane, I choked on the smell. It hung thick in the air, a presence unto itself that couldn’t be ignored. Or so I thought until I looked over at Sarge. He appeared to take no notice of the assault on the senses and strolled along as though he were walking through the park.

“How can you stand this?” I asked as I shook my bandana out and covered my nose.

“Seen it all before,” was all he said.

Shane looked worn out. He was soaked in sweat and filthy from the task he managed. He pulled the cloth down that was covering his face as we approached.

“This the last one?” Sarge asked, looking at the trench.

He nodded, “Yeah. Thank God. This is it.”

I looked over at the line of at least thirty corpses lying in the sun. My eyes didn’t linger though. I didn’t want to see the maggots that were certainly there. They were of all ages. Men, women, kids. Teenagers and elderly. “You guys need anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. We’ll finish this today. I wish we could do something for the men that worked on this though. It wasn’t easy.”

“We’ll do something for all of you,” Sarge replied.

“What was the total?” I asked.

Shane looked down the long scar in the dirt where previous trenches had been filled. “It was three-hundred and seventy-three.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of people,” I replied.

“And we’re still finding them. People come and tell us where a body is, and we go collect it. It’s not too hard to find them now, depending on which way the wind is blowing.”

I shook my head. “It’s awful that these people managed to survive the aftermath of the EMP, eking out a living in all this shit, and then this happened to them.”

“It’s the way the world works, Morgan,” Sarge replied. He still looked totally unphased by all of this.

“Let’s hope there’s a little change to the way things are,” I said.

“I sure as hell hope so. I don’t ever want to have to do this again,” Shane said.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Sarge said. “We have things to tend to.” I gave Shane a nod, he returned it grimly and we left them to complete their morbid task.

We found Mitch at his house. He came out to meet us when we pulled up. Smiling, he waved as we got out. “What brings you guys out here?”

“Well, we got some business for you, your honor,” Sarge said.

Mitch never did like the formal address and it showed on his face. “What kind of business?”

“We have a couple of people that were stealing from some of the traders in Altoona. There isn’t a jail anymore and I don’t know what to do with them,” I replied.

Mitch scratched his head. “I don’t really know either.”

“What has to happen,” Sarge said, “is you have to go out there. Hold court there and pass sentence. In front of everyone.”

“What kind of sentence can we pass? Town is destroyed. We can’t jail them or anything. There isn’t a farm to put them to work on. There aren’t really any people there anymore.”

“Corporal punishment,” Sarge replied.

“What?” Both Mitch and I asked.

“Just that. Corporal punishment. It’s all we have left,” Sarge replied.

“And who the hell is going to do that?” I asked.

Sarge pointed at me, “You’re the Sheriff. It’s up to you. I can’t do it.” He pointed at Mitch, “he’s the judge; he can’t do it. You’re the law enforcement; it’s your job.”

“He’s got a point,” Mitch said.

“I don’t want to do that shit!”

Sarge took a deep breath and looked at me, “I’m sure you can find someone in your crew to take the job.”

I started to ask just who in the hell would want such a job, then I realized who he was talking about. I nodded. “Alright. Let’s ride out there. While you two hold court, I’ll go get him. But we need to figure out just what sort of punishment we’re going to mete out.”

“We’ll discuss that on the way back.”

Looking at Sarge, I asked, “You going to bring him back tonight? Or do you expect him to walk?”

“Mitch,” Sarge said, “Why don’t you and Michelle come out and stay the night with us tonight. We’re going to a little shindig tomorrow and you should probably be there as well.”

“What sort of a shindig?”

“A bar-b-que,” I said. “Steaks.”

“Like, beef?” He nearly shouted.

“Not like beef; it is beef!” Sarge exclaimed.

Mitch held up a finger and disappeared into the house. He returned shortly with Michelle and a small bag. Sarge laughed and asked, “I assume then, it’s a yes?”

“Mitch said we were going to have steaks?” Michelle asked.

“Tomorrow,” I nodded.

“What are we waiting for then?” Mitch asked.

On the ride back to Altoona, we discussed what sort of corporal punishments would be appropriate for such things as theft. Sarge naturally was a little heavy handed in his ideas and Mitch and I had to shoot down several of them; one was even to bring back the wooden horse. This was a medieval punishment where one straddled a square post, set so one of the corners faced up and weights were hung around the legs. Just the idea of it made me woozy.

In the end, it