Chapter Eleven

Infernal Hatred

C ries of “old lady” echoed through the night, their voices sharp and mocking.

Their next words sent a chill through her bones.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The boys were taunting her.

She winced as they entered the greenhouse, knocking over pots and shattering glass. Their dogs growled and barked; the sounds amplified in the buried shelter. Joan’s lips pressed into a grim line. Stupid Hoggs. They didn’t realize their dogs weren’t barking for fun, they were alerting to something.

Joan’s grip tightened on her shotgun. The handgun on her hip was loaded too. If they found the shelter’s entrance, she wouldn’t hesitate in defending herself and Max.

“She ain’t here,” one of the Hoggs said .

“She’s somewhere, and we’ll find her. That bitch knows what happened to Carrie. She and that dog of hers need to die.”

The name hit Joan like a hammer: Carrie.

Her breath caught. What had they done to that poor, innocent child? Anger simmered beneath her skin, swelling with every cruel word they said.

“She took that dog of hers into the night. We’ll get her, and no one will find the body,” another voice said, his tone casual, as though discussing nothing more than a chore. “Are we gonna burn the house?”

“Da says that’ll bring the cops. We gotta kill her first, then dump her body in the house before we light it up.”

“What if someone hears the gunfire?”

“The deputies are at the high school football game. Most of the people out here are too. The rest’ll mind their own damn business.”

Joan’s heart sank. They were right. Deputy Berger and her neighbors wouldn’t be home for hours. Small town football was the highlight of the year. Joan had never attended, but Deputy Berger invited her once. Her answer hadn’t been pleasant.

“What if Da’s wrong, you dumb shit?”

A thud and a muffled groan followed. “Ow! Stop that.”

“Da’s pissed worse than I’ve ever seen. He’ll kill us if we mess up. Just do what he says. ”

Their voices faded, and the barking and gunfire died with them. Joan sat in silence, her heart pounding. She clenched her jaw. Her neighbors, her so-called community, weren’t coming.

“Joan Morgan,” Jeb’s voice cut through the night, “we’re gonna find you no matter where you hide.”

A scream pierced the air. “That damn dog bit me! Get him off! Get him off!”

Ferocious growls reverberated through the underground shelter, followed by a high-pitched yelp.

“Shut your hole!” Jeb bellowed. “There’s something wrong with him. I’ll take the brindle, but we’re leaving the others. If that old bitch comes back, the dogs’ll tear her apart.”

Joan hadn’t thought it could get worse, but it had.

“Grab everything worth takin’, and we’re getting outta here,” Jeb shouted.

For another thirty minutes, Joan endured the sounds of her life being ripped apart. Shattering glass and things being destroyed filled the night. Then came the relief of an engine starting, the truck rumbling away.

She allowed herself to breathe slowly, but dread crept back quickly. Jeb’s dogs were still out there. The destruction they’d left behind was bad enough, but now she had to deal with animals trained to kill.

“This won’t be easy,” she whispered to Max.

They couldn’t stay in the shelter. If Jeb and his boys came back and got serious about searching, they’d find her.

“I can’t shoot the dogs,” she murmured, stroking Max’s head. “They’ll hear the shots.”

She was stalling for time, trying to piece together a plan. How many dogs had they left? Five, maybe eight? A truck bed could hold that many, even with two boys riding back there.

Max could protect her, but against more than two dogs? She didn’t want to find out. He’d never been in a real fight, but Jeb’s dogs were bred and trained for one thing: violence.

Her gaze shifted to the shotgun’s stock, then to the shovel propped against the wall. Both would work, but neither felt right. She didn’t want to kill any dog, but if it came down to her or them, she’d do what she had to.

“This is life or death, Max,” she said, steeling herself.

Sliding back the bolt, she prepared to push the planter aside. She paused, listening. Silence. She took a deep breath and moved the planter.

The cold night air hit her face as she took the first step out, but Max darted ahead, his body tense with purpose. Joan gritted her teeth as her knees creaked while climbing out.

A burst of growls erupted from the opposite side of the house.

Max had found the enemy.