Free DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum by Michael Anthony

Chapter 1: “Long goodbyes just hurt
more.”

    Shade watched as the last leaf broke away
from the dying tree. As it fell, it danced and swayed on the gentle
breeze before coming to rest atop the corpses of those that fell
before it. The leaf died days ago, but was too stubborn to leave
the branch. When it did, Shade finally let go of the tinge of hope
it gave her—the hope that she would see an autumn tree or a vibrant
blade of grass ever again.
    Tucking a loose strand of her short, black
hair behind her ear, she plucked the leaf from the ground and
crushed it in her hand. It was a stupid thing to do—to get back at
the leaf for destroying her hopes—but it gave her a slight bit of
satisfaction as it crunched and shattered beneath her fingers.
    With a solemn gaze, she cast her dark brown
eyes over the sea of death that her mom once called their ‘Secret
Garden’. Their backyard was once robust with red roses, yellow
sunflowers, and pink rose thrifts. Honeysuckles, jasmines, and
allspice bushes dotted the perimeter, painting the air with a
myriad of scents that embodied springtime. When the northern wind
swept down through their horse ranch, Shade would always stop
whatever she was doing to savor the moment. It was a rare thing not
to smell the stench of horse manure that hung in the air like a
swarm of gnats.
    But that seemed like forever ago. Over the
past month-and-a-half, every plant in the world suffered the same
fate as the tree before her. From the smallest sapling to the
tallest redwood, nothing was alive anymore. Even indoor greenery
shriveled and decayed in their pots.
    Shade released the remnants of the leaf and
gazed once more at her old friend, the dead tree. She climbed it
every day when she was ten. Seven years later, she still knew the
best branches to hold on to, and which gave the best view of the
horses’ grazing pasture.
    Not anymore though. The roots were starving
and the branches were weak. Much like the world, the tree wasn’t
safe anymore.
    Shade turned her back on it and made her way
to the deck of her family’s two-story Georgian home. She sat on the
couch under the awning, closed her eyes, and let the sun’s warm
rays soothe her as she listened to the national news pouring from
the TV on the other side of the window.
    “...geoepidemiologist Jackson Burts is
working on his third attempt to synthesize a probiotic nutrient
that will act as a temporary all-in-one replacement during this
catastrophic event. The President has issued a statement urging
farmers to harvest the meat of their livestock before they succumb
to starvation as the food-chain...” The news anchor fell silent for
a moment. That was never a good sign. “This just came in,” he
announced with renewed vigor in his voice. “The President, in
agreement with Congress, has suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus.
Martial law has been declared...”
    “Ah shit.” Shade’s dad grumbled from the
living room as he flicked off the TV. He slammed the remote on the
coffee table as he sighed loudly. “Rikka, Lou, Shade,” he called to
his daughters. “Meet me in the stable in an hour.”
    Shade searched the paint-chipped wood for her
father’s logic. What did martial law have to do with the stable?
Then it hit her. She leapt from the porch and darted towards the
horse barn fifty yards away from the house. She covered the
distance in record time. Throwing open the door, the horses pranced
and neighed uneasily as it creaked and slammed against the adjacent
wall. They had grown antsy since the earth started dying, and they
were getting worse every day—like they knew something Shade
didn’t.
    She sprinted to her horse’s stall near the
back of the stable. Delilah poked her head out to greet her,
probing her hand for the apple she usually brought. Despite the
dire circumstances, Shade smiled and scratched her behind the ear
as she put her cheek against the horse’s.
    “You’re going to be fine, old girl” she
whispered as she