by Chris Hechtl
Multiverse 2.0
A collection of Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and other stories
Chris Hechtl
Copyright ©2015 by Chris Hechtl
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions thereof in any form.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations are fictional. Some may be parodies. Some characters are with permission. Any resemblance of some characters and places to others are strictly in the mind of the reader. :)
The models are owned by their respective creators and used under the usage license. Some models were made by Chris Hechtl; others were purchased on Daz3d.com or Renderosity.com. Some brush effects were downloaded from http://frostbo.deviantart.com/
Cover art by Chris Hechtl
Proofread and copy edited by: Mike Kotcher, Poon Yee, Jory Gray, Tim Brown, & Joshua Lyon
Professionally copy edited by Rea Myers
Formatted by Goodlifeguide.com
Special thanks to Rea and those of you who don't mind reading my weird and wild stories.
Table of Contents
About
Virus
Fantasy
Elementals
Science Fiction
Survival
Penance
The Santa Brigade
The Pack
Last Assault of the Emperor
Federation stories
Island of Moreau
Bumper and Boomer
The Good Ship UFSP Lollipop
Lewis and Clarke
Author's Afterward
Appendix
Sneak Peek
About:
The holidays are a hard time for me; I can't write like I'd like to. I mean, I can't write a full novel; it is too much to take on with all the distractions going on in real life. So, I have found my own way to compromise. I write short stories. The good, the bad, the ugly. I tucked away short stories I wrote earlier in the year into this manuscript to get me started along with concepts I came up with over the years. Treatments really, stuff I thought up but never found the time to flesh out more fully until now.
Enjoy.
Virus
Story note: Okay, I admit, this “story” is probably a product of every over-testosteroned male in existence at one time or another. I have even seen similar things on TV and movies, stories clothed in sudden infertility normally.
I wrote this in a blur; I wrote it raw years ago. No punctuation, no caps, just straight pounding sixteen pages out in less than two hours. I had one heck of a headache afterward but a strange sense of completion. I've spent the past day or so cleaning it up. It is still raw in places, but overall, it works.
It isn't quite fantasy or science fiction, neither fish nor fowl. Post-apocalyptic? Not quite since something of civilization survives. I'll let you be the judge of it.
In 2020 a bioweapon created in a rogue lab was unleashed on the world. It had a slow insidious incubation period; it was spread through the major transit hubs of the world before the authorities caught on and shut it down. Panic ensued as the virus went into its terminal stages. People fled from the cities in a panic, abandoning the towns and large population centers in droves. That made it even harder to treat the infected, though it did isolate them.
In a less than a month, it wiped out half the human population. The second mutation struck as the population reeled about in desperation for a cure. Civilization was on the verge of collapse.
A desperate vaccine was created by altering the rhinovirus. The first version was administered, but it only worked on women. Less than 1 percent of the male population survived with it. The authorities found out about that just as they finished creating an airborne version of the vaccine. Despite their efforts at spraying the population, civilization collapsed into turmoil and chaos as more and more men died off.
Despair and depression took many more lives as did famine and other diseases like dysentery and even influenza. A series of storms raged, shredding the coastline communities that had survived.
As time passed FEMA and other emergency organizations began to reconnect the nation. Ten long troubled years passed.
The Wimsey farm complex had survived largely intact. Walker Wimsey had bought the Vermont farm several years before the virus had struck and then the surrounding timberland and other small farms to keep them from being developed. It had been intended as his summer family retreat; a place where his extended family could go to for family events and even spend the summer there. It had its own pond and over a dozen houses for the family with workshops, massive garages, and was green. It used giant wind turbines, hydro-electric, and solar arrays to power the complex and surrounding area.
The farm and adjoining farms were protected real estate. They were surrounded on three sides by a series of rivers with high steep gorge walls. The walls on either side were covered in hills that were heavily populated by granite rocks and dense forest. Two bridges and one land road lead in and out of the area. It was over ten square miles of hilly land.
Wimsey of Wimsey Defense Contractors had set up the family farm as a modern retreat. It was heavily but discretely defended. For decades Walker Wimsey had run a business selling his robotic creations to the military as well as the mining and oil industry. He had a small automated factory on the farm, mostly underground.
When the first word of the virus had hit, his family had enacted protocols to defend themselves. Those in the area had gotten to the farm and buttoned up. Wimsey wasn't much of a survivalist, but some of his family had taken that road. They had talked him into allowing them to set up survival shelters and caches on the farm. They and their friends had traveled to the farm during the early stages of the outbreak. When full word of the calamity had gotten to them, they had battened down the farm and hid, cutting off all contact with the outside world.
Determined individuals did their best for their communities. Wimsey farm kept dumping electrical power into the grid during the dark times. Someone somewhere was using it. As the virus abated, the need to trade to survive brought communities back into contact with each other. Over the years the states and then the nation started to come back together. National elections were called nearly six years after the holocaust. With women outnumbering men by a thousand to one, it was a shoo-in that all of the elected were women. The military, supreme court, and utilities came back together after that. The nation, like the world, started to heal.
In Vermont the farm has been doing its part exporting food, timber, and electric power to the neighboring area to keep local civilization going once the threat of the virus had ended. Through experimentation the medics in the community had found out that the men of the family were naturally immune to the virus. Doc Wimsey and his daughter managed to work out a vaccine using the information he downloaded from the net and blood from his kin. The vaccine protected the extended family; however, it had a limited effectiveness outside of the family bloodline. Ever aware of a possible mutation, they kept to themselves as much as possible. Even a sniffle was quarantined until the doc did a full checkup. Anyone who had contact with the outside world was voluntarily quarantined for at least a week to make certain they hadn't inadvertently brought in a flu or other virus.
For eight years during the dark time, the nearby small town had mostly been abandoned. The womenfolk of the family managed the trade with the outside since the menfolk were constantly busy running the farm. They traded for goods that the farm could not make. A lot of the stuff they brought back were luxury imported foods, salt and other preservatives, bits of salvaged gear, or clothes for the growing passel of kids mostly.
The small town had been established since the farm was exporting so much power. Women in the area had set up in the town. Many wer
e from cities that had been abandoned during the crisis. Slowly people were coming out of the hills. There was ever the danger of a resurgence of the virus. Everyone knew who came to town had to be checked out and immunized.
Having the town closer to them cut transit time for the ladies in half. The mill was still closed but they could drop off timber and other goods there and then it would be shipped to wherever it was needed from that point.
Walker Wimsey had set up a Wi-Fi node for the nearby town prior to the virus. It had been his way to help the community. He had also set up a T1 internet hub for his base through the network. When he found out that civilization was coming back and in some cases flourishing once more, he tuned in. He nodded in approval when the girls warned him that newspapers, magazines, and other media methods were a thing of the past. Now just about everything was electronic.
Kelly, one of the teens, managed the communications for him. She gave daily reports to the families who were interested in the goings-on outside their little community.
They found out that the world kept spinning but had changed. Walker shook his head. He could imagine the demographics had altered the entertainment landscape. He heard a few of the guys gripe and joke about women television. Apparently there were a lot of repeats on—nothing but Friends, Gilmore Girls, and shows like Charmed. When he had a free moment, he took the time to channel surf a bit as well until he found the news. There was something about the Male Registration Act mentioned but nothing more on the story. He frowned thoughtfully as the news went to a commercial. Apparently it was so well established, they took it for granted that the viewers knew about it.
Disturbed, he decided to get more information but was stymied and frustrated when he did so. The internet was patchy at best. He was also constantly interrupted, and the stuff he had the teenage girls do research on ended up pretty vague and barely useful. Feeling unease over the situation, he accelerated the defenses of the farm base. That called for a maintenance overhaul as well as a series of additional drills to make certain everyone was on board with what to do. He felt a bit like the boy who cried wolf, but he'd rather have egg on his face then be right.
They had set up defenses before and during the collapse; several of the family were military personnel who had retired prior to the man plague. He was a bit of a tinker so he'd set up a full machine shop with CNC routers, 3D printers, and other pieces of equipment to keep everything on the farm running smoothly. Using his machine shop and automation, they set up spare cameras as well as additional automated defenses. He even built pair of radar arrays, a LIDAR, and three SAM sites to protect the farm from air attack.
A month after the report he heard some of the women arguing. Normally he did his best to not listen in, to give them their space and privacy, but something was up and they were doing their best to exclude the guys around them. They were arguing about who was to go to town. He frowned thoughtfully. Lately the women had been reluctant to go to town he had noted. He'd been so wrapped up in his own projects though that he hadn't done anything about it. They normally seemed to work out the problem in the end.
But the more they dithered about it, the more it bothered him. They had a positive balance of trade with the community abroad. The farm provided food, power, and even fuel in exchange for its share of taxes and a credit line with all the stores in the surrounding area. Normally the ladies enjoyed going to town; they loved to socialize.
Come to think of it, since the virus they hadn't had any visitors to the farm. He frowned thoughtfully. During the first years, that was his edict; they didn't want to invite someone in who might turn out to be infected. But now that the virus was over … he frowned thoughtfully. Now they were reluctant to even go out! That was strange. Something had to be done, someone had to show them there was no place for fear. Caution, yes, but not fear. “I'm going to town,” he rumbled from the open window above them.
The women looked up in alarm, eyes wide. “No, no, we've got this. It's okay, Walker.”
“No, I've got it,” he said firmly as he put his foot down.
Kelly whispered something to Jill. Jill nodded and signaled Mary who was hanging up towels to air dry.
“Walker! The sump pumps out again!” a voice called from four houses over.
“What? Not again. Damn it, I just fixed that,” Walker stormed, moving out to deal with the problem. If he didn't get it fixed, the lower basements would fill with water during the next rainfall. “If it ain't one thing, it's another,” he muttered. “Everything's held together with bubblegum and bailing wire here,” he snarled. “Let me go get my tool kit!” he bellowed, headed for the machine shop.
They managed to distract him though with that crisis. When it was resolved, he realized from the looks the girls were exchanging that it had been deliberately manufactured to distract him. He pursed his lips. Well, there was another way to deal with that sort of problem, he thought.
The next day he loaded up a pickup truck while they were busy keeping the kids content.
“Where you going?” an anxious female voice said.
“To town as I said,” he said absently, not about to show he was annoyed he'd been caught out before his getaway.
“I'm telling Mommy,” the little girl said in a “you're doing something wrong voice,” scampering off.
“Now what was that about?” he asked, scratching at his hair under his ball cap.
One of the older teenage girls Kelly saw him as he climbed into the truck. She waved a dish towel and then hastily jumped into the passenger seat with him. “You know, I can do this, Walker, honest. You are busy with the farm and all. You don't have to waste your time,” she urged.
“I'm driving here. Hush,” he ordered as he started the engine and flipped the gear shift down. “Buckle up, lady,” he ordered.
She was quiet on the way; he really did have to concentrate on the battered logging road. “We should do something about this. The potholes are horrible,” he said as they were jounced around.
“Walker, stay with the truck,” she told him as they pulled onto the main road. It was paved, thank God, but it had been quite a few years since it'd seen a road crew too. It wasn't even patched.
“Why?” he demanded. “What's going on?”
“It's for your protection. Just for your safety. For everyone's safety. Please, damn it, stay here. Don't go inside,” she said urgently. “Keep a low profile, and we might survive this,” she muttered. He eyed her, but she only bit her lip and wouldn't say anything more.
======+======
The truck rumbled to the edge of town. Kelly was pale, biting her lip as he maneuvered around an abandoned checkpoint. The main road was better maintained but only just barely. There were some signs of life; little trash outside the suburbs he noted in approval.
In town they didn’t see many people until they got to the general store near the town's center. The general store was the heart and soul of the place; everything came through there including the mail.
“In the back,” Kelly urged, eyes darting around.
“Lady, will you relax? I've done this before you were born,” Walker said. He pulled a J turn and then backed up the path along the side of the building and into the rear loading dock.
Sharon, the store owner and mayor of the town, heard the truck and came out to investigate. “I thought it was you!” she said as she waved. The teen waved back smiling in relief.
Walker got out of the truck and stretched, rolling his shoulders and massaging the back of his thighs. A couple of the springs in the seat dug into him in a wrong way. They really should have gone modern and used foam instead of keeping the damn truck stock he thought.
Sharon stood there, gaping at him, clearly shocked. He ignored her, going to the back. While he unloaded the teen talked fast, urging Sharon to move. Sharon, however, was dumbstruck by his presence.
He felt like preening. Hell, he was single; it had been a long damn time since he'd had his tubes properly cleaned. He'd been so
wrapped up in the farm for years and been too worn out half the time to think about how lonely it was for him. Hell, he didn't have time to be lonely he thought.
He shook such maudlin thoughts off as he noted more people peeking, pointing, and whispering. He realized they were pointing at him. The they in question were also women he realized.
Sharon whispered something to a helper wearing an apron who rushed off with a backward look over her shoulder to him. “Don't mind me, ladies; Kelly needed her uncle to lend a hand. Just think of me as you usually do, a big, strong dumb male to do the grunt work,” he joked.
The women nearby were edging closer; all were quiet over his attempt at humor. “You need to scat, fast,” Sharon urged in a stage-whisper.
“Why?” he asked, turning to her. She shook her head. “I want a look around,” he said. Despite her protests he brushed past her. His eyes adjusted to the interior as Kelly bit back a whimper and tried to follow. He was too broad to get around though and faster than she realized.
Walker saw a battered bar with a brass railing. “Old west style. Just as I remembered,” he said as he stepped up and looked over the counter to see the limited stock of goods they had on hand. He immediately recognized the reused packaging. Most were either from their farm, hand-me-downs, or old things from stores now long gone.
A woman came up behind him, clearly flirting from her strut. He could hear the click of her heels so he turned. Distracted by some scent and his comparison of memory and new observations, he turned just as another lady popped up from behind the counter. “Um, Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself,” she said with a catlike grin as he felt something furry on his wrist. He heard a ratcheting sound. He looked down to see furry handcuffs encircling his wrist. He shook his head, laughing as if it was a joke. “Very funny, ladies, but I'm not really that much in a playful mood,” he said as he pulled on his wrist. But before he could yank the cuff out of her hand, she cuffed the other end to the bar railing. He started to immediately feel anger at feeling trapped and at his stupidity. The ladies swarmed him, touching, giggling, and feeling him up as they tried to hold him down.
