Kennedy & the Yautja

Chapter 8 - Nashville-Part 2

Kennedy covered her nose and mouth as she led the way down the gravel road. The smell of rotting corpses grew stronger with every step. It was downright disgusting.

All along the road, peppering the trees, were hanging bodies. The bodies were in the double digits so far. Each of them was in a different stage of rot, with flies buzzing around them; a few had fallen from their ropes to lay on the ground, where vultures and other scavengers had steadily eaten away the remains. It was all of this that told Kennedy she was close.

Uncle Bobby had a deep-seated hatred for the Rebels, and for good reason.

Marking each of the bodies was a torn piece of the flag they flew from their armored trucks and compounds. Strips of it were wrapped around the necks of the corpses in a display of red, white, and blue. When it was pieced together, it formed what was called the Confederate flag. On the red background was a navy blue X with fourteen white stars inside of it.

The Rebels lived and died under their banner. It was why Uncle Bobby loved to string up their bodies with pieces of it to scare away any would-be raiders from their group.

Hopefully, he was still alive. None of the bodies seemed to be fresh, so she had good reason to worry. She hoped to find fresher ones as they drew closer, even if it was a revolting sight. The smell of rotting flesh wasn't easily forgotten, either.

"This Bobby..." Vah'keil spoke up, the large male taking careful note of the bodies along the path. "He is promising prey."

Kennedy snapped her gaze from the bodies to her Yautja with worry.

"No, Vah'keil, you can't kill him. Please. He could be the last family I have!" She pleaded, hoping to sway his opinion.

There was no way he could kill him! What if he was the last family member alive? He had always been her favorite uncle before he moved to Nashville. The man was good at killing, but he wouldn't be a good trophy for Vah'keil.

"Why not? We have passed more than forty rotting corpses. He is clearly skilled." Vah'keil countered. He stopped to look at a body that hung right over the path.

Hanging around the neck was an entire Rebel flag. Written in sloppy white paint were the words Rebel Scum.

Yeah, Uncle Bobby was...definitely eccentric. To anyone with a brain, it would be a signal to stay away, but clearly none had listened. Rebels were notorious for their relentlessness.

The woman shook her head and folded her arms across her chest with a huff, saying, "The Rebels and him don't get along." Kennedy came to stand beside the Yautja. "He's a survivor. You can't kill him."

Vah'keil chuffed and pushed onward, shoving the body out of the way. It narrowly missed Kennedy when it swung back in its arc. She squealed, ducking in time to miss being covered with rotting corpse gunk.

Ahead of her, the Yautja snickered, his clicks of amusement reaching her ears. They burned with anxiety at the thought of the bloated corpse touching her.

"Ya know," Kennedy called out, jogging to catch up with his long strides. "I do have a question."

He briefly cast a glance her way, cocking his head to the side. A curious clicking rolled in his throat.

"Umm, earlier today...in the church..." she began. She struggled to word her question without bringing up their sexual encounter. It was still embarrassing how she had acted.

Her mention of the church caught Vah'keil's full attention. She couldn't see his eyes behind the mask he wore, but she could feel his intent gaze. Swallowing her nerves, she continued.