Free Harlan County Horrors by Anthology Page B

even looking for my wife and son
anymore.
    Because without my fury, I’m numb.
    Empty.
    Or
maybe not.
    Maybe the words on Log Rock were meant for me.
    Maybe there’s a monster inside me.
    I
laugh at the thought, and then feel an aggressive desire to return
to my tent.
    But
I ignore the emotion.
    Eventually, I find myself staring at a patch of thirty-two
luminescent flowers, and part of me hopes that my Filter will
malfunction again.
    Then my wish comes true.
    And
there are thirty-two men and women sitting on blackened circles of
earth, weeping, screaming, the hairs on their bodies sticking
straight out.
    They look ridiculous.
    I
search their faces, looking for my father.
    He
was caught four years ago, so there’s a chance he’s serving his
time here.
    I
used to tell myself that I didn’t want to confront my father, but
right now I feel eager, desperate.
    And
I don’t know if I want to hug him or kill him.
    Probably the latter.
    But
I don’t find out, because he’s not one of the men.
    As
I sit there, watching them shake and jerk in agony, I begin to feel
a faint cramp in my chest.
    Empathy.
    I
feel sorry for these insurrectionary bastards, when I can’t even
muster the same sentiment for my own missing family.
    There must be something truly wrong with me.
    “ You deserve this,” I whisper.
    These people are political prisoners of the worst kind. And if
the Guardians didn’t force these traitors onto the anomalies, the
unhampered energy would erupt and find another human body to bind
with. Man, woman, or child.
    The
energy doesn’t discriminate.
    So
if someone has to suffer, better the guilty than the
innocent.
    Better them than me.

    According to Warden Rose, criminals are like coal. If you
press them hard enough, they’ll eventually become diamonds. But
once in a great while, the Guardians find themselves clashing with
an unfortunate soul beyond help, beyond hope.
    Hunter Hill is one such devil.
    “ I
can’t give you back your family,” the warden says. “But I can give
you Hunter.”
    So
about thirty minutes later, I’m underground, in a white room,
holding the warden’s gift.
    Hunter struggles against the ropes.
    Useless.
    I
let out a primal roar, and judging by Hunter’s expression, I’m a
monster in his altered vision.
    A
monster with black matted fur and metallic fangs.
    Just like the warden promised.
    “ Beg,” I say. “Beg for your life.”
    Hunter trembles. “I ain’t playin’ your games no more,
Rose.”
    “ I’m not the warden.”
    “ Whoever. Just do what you come to do and let me back in my
cage.”
    “ You’re not going anywhere until you beg.”
    “ No.”
    I
growl and slash his face with my claw.
    “ Fuck you, Rose,” Hunter says.
    “ My name is Samson Carter,” I say.
    “ Don’t ring no bells.”
    “ You killed my family.” I take the gun out of my
pocket.
    And
how this looks to Hunter, I don’t know. Maybe I’m ripping the
weapon out of my flesh.
    “ I
knowed you was Rose,” Hunter says.
    “ Will you stop saying that?” I say. “I’m Samson
Carter.”
    “ You got the warden’s gun.”
    “ He let me borrow it.”
    “ Nah, you'd never let anybody touch your pistol.”
    After a deep breath, I point the gun at his face. “You killed
my family, and now you’re going to die.”
    “ I
ain’t no killer. That’s why I got sent here in the first
place.”
    “ Shut up.” I cock the hammer.
    A
tear rolls down the bastard’s cheek, and he closes his eyes.
“Goodbye, Earl.”
    I
lower the gun. “Who’s Earl?”
    “ I
weren’t talkin’ to you.”
    Again, I point the gun between his eyes. “Who’s
Earl?”
    “ A
better man than you.”
    And
I consider pressing the matter further, because I see love and
respect for this man swarming in Hunter’s eyes. And if this Earl is
a prisoner in this facility, maybe I could torture him in front of
Hunter.
    The
warden would probably permit me that right.
    But
I’m feeling more than a little tired.
    So
I pull the