Into the Badlands Read Online Free

are some coats or some blankets,” Dave Porter said to his wife, Sandy, as they combed through an abandoned house two miles from the highway. She nodded. Their friend Jim was in the kitchen searching for any food or equally useful items that may have been left behind.
    “Nothing,” Sandy replied.
    “Dammit.” He turned to Jim. “Anything?”
    “Nothing here either,” Jim replied. “The cupboards are bare, not even a bone for a dog.” He smiled, then dropped it when no one else returned it.
    “We have to check the basement,” Dave said flatly. Jim and Sandy both looked at him apprehensively. “Look, I don’t want to either, but it’s our best chance.”
    “Not after what we found at the last place,” Sandy said.
    “I know, I know, but we have to. We didn’t get enough at the last house. You both know that. And whatever we find down there can’t hurt us. You saw the windows in this place; not a single one broken. The door was still locked for Christ’s sake. Nobody’s been in this place since the outbreak, not even the rats.”
    “I don’t think I can handle seeing what I saw back there again,” Sandy confessed. Her lower lip trembled slightly. “They were just so small...” She trailed off, biting her lip.
    “Jim and I will go. You stay up here. If the coast is clear we’ll call you down. We still have a couple more hours of daylight left, plenty of time to search the basement.”
    Consternation washed over her face. “I don’t want to be up here by myself.”
    Dave sighed. He tried to be patient, but it was often difficult. “I know, but you said you didn’t want to go down.”
    “I don’t.”
    Jim turned to Sandy and put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, we’ll be right back up in a flash.”
    Sandy nodded, but seemed less than convinced.
    Dave pulled the hatchet he usually carried from his belt, then handed Sandy their only working gun. She took it.
    “Don't shoot unless I tell you to,” he told her.
    “I won't,” she replied.
    Dave grabbed the flashlight they'd found during a prior house raid, and Jim held his ever-present hammer tightly in his hand as the two men walked toward the basement door. They reached the door and Dave turned the knob, slowly and carefully opening the door. It groaned and squeaked on its hinges as it gave way. They all listened intently for any audible signs of carriers seeking shelter within. They were met with reassuring silence. Dave knocked three times on the door; holding his hatchet tightly. Noises usually got the deadwalkers stirring. Despite the knocking they heard nothing from below.
    He looked at Jim. “Let’s go.”
    Dave placed one foot on the top step, testing his weight. It held. The steps were solid. He couldn’t be too careful; a broken ankle in this new world was a death sentence. He flipped on the flashlight. The batteries were low and the light was dim, but it would have to do. He took a deep breath as he and Jim proceeded down the steps.
    There were no windows in the basement. The light from above illuminated the steps, but couldn't pierce far into the darkness below. The flashlight did little to help. He couldn't help but think it was more of a cellar than a basement. He paused halfway down the steps then listened for movement in the darkness below. He shone the flashlight back and forth quickly, scanning the basement for movement. There was none, so he deemed it safe enough to proceed.
    He continued to descend into the darkened basement until his feet finally touched the concrete floor. Then he heard the steps creak as Jim brought up the rear. The basement was unfinished, but had wooden frames erected where walls had been planned. By the dim light of the flashlight those skeletal walls took on the sinister appearance of bars on a jail cell.
    Dave made a right turn, choosing the direction at random. The light flashed across various objects; boxes, chairs, a workout bench, shelves, and more. It was all covered in dust,