Free A Town Called America by Andrew Alexander Page B

the fence, directly behind the dog, she saw through the rotten wooden planks. The beast was lying only three feet away.
    Chris dropped her coat and set her shotgun on the wet ground, which was moist from last night’s rain. Wearing a sleeveless tank top that revealed her toned body, she slowly and quietly climbed the fence, trying hard not to make a sound. Careful to avoid any loose boards, she grabbed a tree branch and placed her right foot on the fence’s support beam to pull herself up until both feet were resting on a board halfway up the fence.
    Now standing and straddling the fence, she looked over to the other side to determine her plan of action. In the end she decided to swing her legs up and over the fence, followed by her body, until she was on the other side.
    Standing three feet off the ground on a support beam, she was now directly above the dog.
Oh, my God, why did it have to be a Rottweiler?
she thought.
What the hell am I doing?
    Chris took a deep breath and jumped. Her plan was to attempt to stab the dog in the throat with her hunting knife. She’d use her body weight to keeps its muzzle on the ground, and with a little luck, she wouldn’t get bit. The moment she jumped, she did just as planned. She landed on the beast’s back and drove the long knife into its thick neck. Her heart was racing, and she knew this animal was powerful and would put up a hell of a fight. Gripping the knife, she ripped it in and out of its body, stabbing it repeatedly. The weight of the dog was almost too much for her to handle, causing Chris to roll onto her side. As hard as she could, she drove the knife deep into the dog one last time until she was sure it had it stopped moving. Covered in blood and out of breath, she stood up, holding on to the fence, thinking something wasn’t right.
    It took a few seconds for her to realize she’d just had what she referred to as a “dumb moment.” Chris looked down at the dog and gave it one good kick to confirm her realization. The entire time she had been stabbing the beast, it had not moved or made a single sound. That moment she knew she had just attacked a Rottweiler that was already dead. Breathing heavily and bent over to catch her breath, she mumbled, “What the fuck? After all I went through, you were already dead?”
    Embarrassed and angry, she leaned down on one knee and pulled the knife from the Rottweiler’s body. Then she bent over and picked the heavy dog up from the ground. She pushed its lifeless body deep onto a wooden fence post. Was it sadistic?
It sure is
, she thought.
    The Rottweiler, impaled in front of the cellar door, was intended for Amber and all to see.
    The situation with the dog made Chris feel more and more anger toward Amber with each step she took toward the cellar. After retrieving the weapons she’d left on the ground, she walked over to the cellar door and attempted to lift it. It was locked, but she knew it was time for action, as anyone nearby would have already would have heard her scuffle with the dead dog.
    Her next move would mean there was no going back. Chris closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Opening her eyes she exhaled then pointed her shotgun at the lock. Within a second a one-foot circle had been blown into the wooden door.
    She threw the door open and moved down the stairs into the cellar as fast as she could. At the bottom she saw that it was one large open room with concrete walls. Small black-painted windows were just above ground level. On the far wall, the shelves were loaded with boxes from floor to ceiling. In the center were two couches along with a kerosene lamp that lit the room completely.
    Chris stopped near the bottom of the steps and looked at the three women who were standing in the brightly lit room and staring back at her, one of whom was pointing a gun at her.
    “Who the hell are you?” the woman to the left of Chris said.
    Chris’s shotgun was pointed directly at her.
Boom
. The blast of the