11.8

Solomon began to rant and rave, but Craven cut him off. ‘Now, as you already know, Mr King, I am a reasonable man. I will allow you to choose which limb we take off.’

He smiled sickeningly through the bars.

‘I choose your left arm,’ Solomon grinned back at him.

The mayor laughed.

‘OK then… I’ll pick.’

When the door to the cell came open, Solomon fought his impulse to charge the cullsmen. The narrow entrance of the cell would serve as a bottle neck, improving his chances of winning.

Sure enough, the first cullsman came to him.

First and last mistake of his life.

Solomon grabbed him, twisted his head so hard it was facing the wrong way, then let him slump to the floor.

‘You’re gonna have to come in here and take me,’ Solomon grinned, splattered in blood and staring at them like a madman.

‘No,’ Craven said. ‘You come out here.’

‘Not a chance. You want me you come and fucking get me.’

‘I think you’re forgetting that we all have guns, Mr King. You wouldn’t last a minute in there.’

‘If you were gonna gun me down you’d have done it by now. You’re enjoying my suffering too much to end it so quick. Aren’t you, you sadistic fuck?’

The mayor smiled. ‘Maybe there is a little truth in that.’

‘So come in here and get what’s coming to ya.’ Solomon stared them all out, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

*

Craven would later look back and regret the way he’d dealt with things.

In a gross error in judgement, the next person to set foot in the cage had been the cullsman with the saw.

Solomon had put him down with a straight right that would have stopped a rabid bear. While the cullsman snored and drooled on the floor of the cell, Solomon had grinned and picked up the saw.

With a weapon, his chances were greatly improved.

The cullsmen were physically in great shape, but had very little tactical sense.

They were just following the mayor’s advice blindly and it seemed he had no idea what he was doing.

Solomon killed the cullsmen one by one as they came for him; the saw was sharp enough to slit throats he had discovered with a maniacal grin.

Only one cullsman remained.

His legs were shaking like he was drilling the road.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He looked Solomon – all muscled and bearded and splattered from head to toe in gore – up and down then turned tail and ran.

Craven went to go after him, but the door was locked from the other side; the remaining cullsman obviously hadn’t wanted Solomon coming after him.

Craven was quaking in his blood-spattered tan brogues.

He was actually sobbing.

‘Have some fucking pride about you,’ Solomon said.

The mayor backed away until he was cornered. He tried to fight Solomon off, but it was like the fat kid trying to fend off the school bully.

Solomon’s fist drove into his gut, knocking the wind out of him and cracking his ribs.

He fell to his knees, panting for breath, tears gleaming in his piggy little eyes.

Solomon grinned down at him.

‘Arm or leg?’ he said.

The mayor looked up at him, confused.

His bottom lip quivered as more tears rolled down his cheeks.

‘Wh-what?’

‘I’m a nice guy too,’ Solomon grinned, looking positively demonic, ‘so I’m going to let you pick. Do you want to lose an arm or a leg?’

‘Please. P-please. Don’t do this. I can give you as much food as you n-need. You can work for me. You’d make an amazing cullsman. I’d make you one of my top guys. I’d ensure you were extremely well looked after.’

‘I don’t want to work for you, you fat fucking prick. So which is it? Arm or leg?’

The mayor still didn’t answer him.

‘Ok, then I’ll pick. I’ll go leg,’ Solomon grinned.

‘No,’ the mayor howled, making some of the nearby dogs join in.

Solomon was on him before he could raise a hand in defence. Not that it would have made any difference anyway.

He pinned the mayor down, hating the playdough feel of his flab through the expensive, sweat-soaked suit he wore. He tied the belt tight around his right knee. Sheared the fabric away, threw it to one side.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Craven sobbed.

‘You’d have happily had it done it to me.’

And with that, the sawing and the screaming began.

*

The mayor had long passed out through blood loss, which took some of the fun out of it, but Solomon kept sawing until the limb was severed just below the knee.

It came free with a sickly splatter of gore.

The mayor jolted in spite of being out cold.

Solomon found the iron the cullsmen had brought down and began heating it with the blowtorch.

When it was glowing white-hot, he touched it to the ragged end of the wound.

The sickly smell of burning flesh and hair filled the room, mingling with the coppery tang of blood to form a horrific stench.

The smell of victory, Solomon thought with an insane smile.

The smile died on his lips when he realised that Tia had just watched the whole performance.

*

She was looking worried when he went in, but cuddled into him when he got close.

‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘But I did it to protect you.’

‘I understand,’ she said, smiling sadly.

He led her out of the cell, wincing as she looked at the broken bodies.

She’d already seen too much suffering and death in her short life, he lamented.

Solomon decided there and then that he would do his best to limit her view of it.

He would make her see the world as a happy place, full of laughter, song and light.

He had no idea how he would achieve this, but vowed to try.

*

Leaving a trail of blood behind him as he dragged Craven by his remaining leg, Solomon set off to find the nearest dogs.

They could hear the growls of the dogs and were close enough to smell their scent when more cullsmen descended upon the cavern.

Solomon looked from Tia to Craven and back again.

You don’t have time to hurt him and save her.

Pick one.

Vengeance or kindness.

Rage or love.

Darkness or light.

There was only one answer.

He left Craven where he lay, giving him a hearty kick in the side before he ran, and carried Tia to the nearest entrance, just as cullsmen flooded the underground caverns.

*

It wasn’t pretty but they got out.

The old mine entrance opened out into the ruined countryside.

From the outside it just looked like a hole in the hillside opposite some ruined buildings – until you saw the huge metal gates that were painted to match the greyed out dirt.

Solomon kept low – hard for a man of his stature – but they managed to reach the outskirts of the small village without being seen. Solomon took a second to note the name of the village before scurrying off into the darkness.

*

From there they travelled out into the country. The blast had decimated much of the greenery, so it was just a kind of bleak, lifeless grey, but it was still better than looking at the corpses lying beneath mountains of rubble.

Or your own dogs trying to eat you.

He shook his head to remove the memory of it, but had a feeling that he was going to be wary of dogs for a very long time after.

*

After their shared ordeal in the City of Dogs, he rarely let Tia out of his sight. They lived in tents for a few years, always looking over their shoulders, always looking out for each other.

They became close, sharing a bond like a father and daughter. Solomon would have gladly laid down his life to protect her and he knew that she felt the same way about him.

Funny thing was she’d been sent to the City of Dogs for eating the food from the banquets just as Solomon had been.

He tried to find somewhere safer for her to live.

During this time he lost his eye – which I’m sure you already heard about – and his remaining peeper fell upon the old, abandoned freeway.

A few Grims had come with him; they’d seen him shatter a rival Grim’s skull in a fight over the last beer one night and had thought it useful to have someone so handy on their side.

From there the word had spread.

Solomon and a dozen Grims began building what would later become the Freelands and it all started with one wooden shack.

Look at what it is now!

From tiny acorns and all that…

From the small wooden shack in its centre, the place began expanding fast.

The more Grims that came in search of safety and fairness – the better life – as most Grims referred to it – the more they built.

Finally, wars were fought with rival Grims over the industrial area that edged onto the Freelands as it was in those days – more of a makeshift tent city than the spectacular thing it became before Simon Cross began bombing the ever-loving shit out of it – and Solomon won.

He took over the old brewery and had Grims working round the clock to ensure there was plenty to drink.

He modified one of the chemical plants to produce steam. But that came later.

All part of wanting to make the world a happier place.

He found the old abattoirs and began to put a plan in place to feed his weary workers – though he wanted none of them to know anything about it – especially not Tia.

And all the while, he began to plan how he could take down his enemies.