The Dead Days Journal is a post-apocalyptic story of love and family told through Leo Marrok’s first-hand account and the pages of Vincent’s personal journal, giving two very different perspectives on what it takes to survive.
Mature themes, adult language, sexual situations, violence and gore. 18+
Title: The Dead Days Journal
Author: Sandra R Campbell
Published: March, 30, 2015
“Count like this: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and so on until you reach one hundred and thirty. Then light it. I’ll be counting with you.”
If I ran fast enough, I’d make the front entrance before our distraction went sky high.
Lincoln and I were finally using the fireworks he’d been hording, along with my father’s highly combustible concoction of extra fine sawdust and gunpowder. By no means was this a celebration, but an explosion, even of the sparkly variety, would draw everyone’s attention to the cave and away from the courtyard—away from Halloween. I just had to reach him before anyone noticed.
Once he gets a taste of my blood, he’ll be fine.
I double-checked the fuses I’d twisted together and the ignition line we’d run along the dirt floor. I wasn’t entirely sure the cave opening wouldn’t collapse; but if it did, well, it’d be one less entrance we’d have to worry about protecting.
“As soon as this sparks, head to the outlook room. You’re my eyes and backup if anything goes wrong. Are you sure you’re up for this, Linc?”
Lincoln re-adjusted the shoulder strap of his rifle. The gun was almost as tall as him. “Yeah.”
I ruffled the white-blond hair on the top of his head with the palm of my hand, fighting the urge to give him a bone-crushing hug. “Okay. Be careful, baby brother.”
Lincoln stumbled forward, reaching for my arm. “Leo, wait!”
“What is it?” Please do this for me. It’s Halloween’s only chance.
Lincoln’s pale green eyes pooled with tears. “I’m sorry…”
I snatched my arm out of his tender hands. “What?” Shit, it’s almost dark! We don’t have time for this.
Lincoln shuffled his feet and then watched as a small dirt cloud dispersed over his shoes. “I called you a liar. I only said it because I was mad. That vampire wasn’t a dream. He was real. The dream didn’t come back, he did. You never lied to me.”
I bent over, took his round chin in my hand, and raised his head. Looking him square in the eye, I gave a hard nod. “And I never will.”
Lincoln responded with a curt nod of his own and then swiped away a falling tear. He believed me. I was his big sister. I’d always be there for him. He’d never doubt me. We’d never have this misunderstanding again. And now I knew I’d never be able to leave him.
“Start now…” I slipped through the steel door.
Behind me, in a soft soprano voice, Lincoln began counting. “One Mississippi, two…”
The door clicked shut and I took off at a dead run, silently counting along with him.
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