The Populace

by Patterson, Aaron M.

  But I was an idiot, determined to get Gene to Oklahoma. I like to finish things. I promised Gene. Oh, I would certainly be done with him at that point. I had never missed Haydon more in my life.

  The rest of that night, I believe, I got just a handful of minutes of sleep. I clutched my necklace and listened to it intently, certain that if it began to erupt in sound that Gene was on the approach. Not that my own Ire wouldn’t wake me. But with this man, I didn’t know what I could trust anymore.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 13

  Somewhere in the Plains

  My normal human rage at Gene, now couple with fear, came with a heaping side-dish of neglect. I neglected to plan, to think. As a result, our drive the next day was done so without much of a thought process on my part. I didn’t look at the map, I didn’t gauge gas or mileage, and I didn’t pay attention to my car’s broken compass. As a result, sometime in the stormy afternoon I found myself in a place called Loup City. I figured it was Kansas. And I figured I was lost. It was time to stop and find my thoughts, those fleeting figments.

  I left my car with my cell in hand, the rain pelting down on me. “Well, Gene, I don’t know where we are.”

  “I’m surprised you’re even talking to me,” he replied.

  I ignored it. No patience for him today. “I’m going to look at the map. Loup City. Ring a bell?”

  “No.”

  I got back in my car and unfolded the paper map of Kansas. I looked for Loup City and found it nowhere. This began to concern me. It was my impression that we should be in Kansas by now. So I looked in the Iowa map and found the same result. Then there was the Nebraska map.

  “Gene, we’re in Nebraska. In the middle of fucking Nebraska!”

  “You don’t say?”

  “Goddamn it!”

  It was myself who stood as the target of my rage now. How could I forget to pay more attention to our travels? It was unlike me in many ways, but then again this entire situation was completely different from any I’d been in over the past two decades. The development now appeared to be a distant memory, and I wanted it back so badly.

  I had to regroup. I searched for nothing in particular in my car. No answers would come as to what I would do now, although telling myself simply to head south would have sufficed. Instead, I waffled on a decision.

  “Oklahoma is probably just below us, Wallace,” Gene blurted out amongst my extended moment of silence. “We could just drive.”

  I should have listened to the crazy man. Instead, I continued flaking on my own resolve. I doubted everything at this point, most importantly myself. I was not the steadfast beast of the past, the totem of solid confidence. No, I was a mouse.

  As I sulked and panicked, I heard a massive popping sound and immediately felt my car lower a little. A few seconds later it happened again. My front two tires were destroyed. I instantly began scanning the streets before and around me with the eyes of an eagle.

  “Gene!” I cried out.

  All I could see on the screen was his face pointing down, as though he were trying to fight something in him. That detail was all I needed. Somebody was nearby. Not close enough for my necklace, let alone my Ire, to detect it, but close enough to shoot out my tires and allow Gene’s newfound super-Ire to flounder his greatest instincts.

  “Somebody is near,” Gene mumbled as his breathing intensified.

  “Speak up,” I ordered.

  “Somebody. Near.”

  Super-Ire made Gene lose control of much of his cognizance, apparently. He could barely speak a thorough sentence.

  “Are you going to get out of the car and find him, Gene? Isn’t that what you do?” His insanity could benefit my safety now. I was trying to use it, although it still frightened me.

  “Near.” He was losing control.

  “I shot out your tires,” a voice came over my cell.

  I looked at the secondary window to see the image of a silhouetted man with the name Customer under it. “What is this?” I asked, my confidence oddly returning.

  “This is what will happen,” Customer said. “You in the Ford cruiser, you will exit the car now, leave every possession you have in the car, and walk away. If not, I will shoot you in the head and you will die.”

  Not much for leaving something to the imagination, this Customer guy. “Why?”

  “Because you will die if you don’t.”

  “But why are you wanting to kill me?”

  “I don’t want to kill you. I want to have your car. There aren’t many working ones around anymore and yours runs. So I am going to take your car.”

  For a shadowy thief, this man was awfully polite and articulate. Another pop and a third tire was destroyed. He wasn’t messing around.

  “I have a question,” I said.

  “Get out of your car.”

  “My question is this. Do you know where any spare tires are?”

  “Leave your car. Now.”

  “And even if you do, can you change them yourself? Because this car won’t move unless you get three new tires.”

  The fourth tire was finally assaulted. He had good aim, but not much in the way of intelligence.

  “Exit. Your. Car.”

  I could only dance so long. In all honesty, I was enjoying the denial of this thief’s request. It didn’t matter that he had a rifle and good aim. It broke the rage, tended to my fun side. So I opened the car door and stepped out, the whole while expecting a bullet to come at my head. Why wasn’t I more scared? I still can’t answer that.

  “The car is yours, mysterious man.” I could see nothing from his silhouette through my cell. He was most certainly in a nearby building, likely running from one to another to reach the other side of my car. But I could hear things. What I heard was the beep of a necklace.

  “Walk in the other direction,” he ordered me.

  “Sure!” I began walking back with my cell in my hand. “Say, what does your name mean?”

  “I am the Customer. That is all. I buy goods.”

  “From whom?”

  “That is not your concern. Leave and we shall never speak again.”

  “Customer. Seems funny. Does that make me merchant since I essentially sold you my car for my life?” I vamped intently. “Hey Customer, what will you do with my car?”

  “Just leave, person. I still have you in my sight.”

  “Why a gun anyway? Do we not kill enough already with the Ire we’re cursed with?”

  “Keep walking, person.”

  Then I saw it. He was taken down, hard, by my friend. Customer’s cell was propped up on a table and I could see the entire attack. Customer’s Ire attempted to fight back, but Gene simply overwhelmed him in both size and wrath. In the matter of a minute Customer’s head was smashed beyond recognition of a human head. Gene put pieces of Customer’s brain in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  I don’t enjoy saying that it pleased me to see it. I had been no fan of Gene’s actions in super-Ire, but this rather saved my life. The crazy gunman named Customer deserved it. Take my ride? I don’t think so.

  I watched as Gene finished his deplorable yet necessary act. Necessary to an extent, of course. He then sat flat on his butt and cried. He wept like a baby. In many ways he was one again, at least for a brief spec of time following his involuntary actions. He cried for about two minutes, blood caking his face and down his neck, before seeing the cell with my moving image in it.

  “I’m sorry,” he quietly sobbed. “Wallace, I am so sorry. I had to. There was no control.”

  I finally got it. Gene wasn’t crazy. He knew everything he did. He craved it. But it wasn’t his fault. He was possessed by the Ire, its infant version now mutated into a vile creature hell-bent on the death of his fellow humans. How could I hate that? How could I not understand that he was at the mercy of his powerful genetics? I finally got it.

  “It’s okay, Gene,” I very gently and solemnly told him. “Go on back to your car and we’ll figure something out.
”

  We headed back to our individual cars. We would sit there for many hours, neither willing to speak about what had occurred or what our next move would be. It was silent. As night came upon us and I remained very hungry, I saw him looking at himself.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “This blood. Wallace, I need to wash it off. It’s not good to be bathed in other people’s blood. I’m going to go find a pond or something.”

  “Good idea.” And it was. I wanted a bath too.

  I would wait until he returned before I got directions to the pond in question to go wash myself. I had one small bar of soap, but I didn’t need more. The pond water was ice cold and extraordinarily refreshing. I felt good, smelled decent, and my nails were packed with dirt. I could sleep well, despite the hunger building stronger by the minute.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 14

  The Food is Out There

  My dreams led me down a very bizarre road the night following Customer’s Folly, as I called it. In the most prominent dream, I found a silver fountain that sprang what looked to be lime Kool-Aid. I was not allowed to drink the green liquid per the orders of a hooded figure the size of a behemoth near the fountain. However, Gene, who now had the backside of an armadillo, was allowed to drink from it all he wanted. The fountain erupted into a cosmic explosion of blood, from which Gene drank large gulps. “You’re not your own devil,” the hooded behemoth said to me in a deep voice. “You are a swine. This blood is not for you.” Then the place turned into a jungle and I was a turtle on a swing. That’s the only dream I really remember that night.

  Waking up, I found out what made me have such vivid dreams. The ache in my stomach strangled every other sensation the body should feel. It overwhelmed me, and obviously I’d felt it in my sleep. I could go for some of that blood. I’m sure it’s rich and nutrient. Enough.

  “Gene,” I said. “Gene, wake your ass up.”

  I saw him rise from his seat and squint his eyes through his shaky cell. “What?”

  “Wake up. We need to eat.”

  “Eat your crackers and veggie paste.”

  “Almost all scraps and drops now.” I had not informed Gene that I kind of binged on crackers and paste one evening the previous week, ravaging my rations in the process. I was embarrassed by it, to say the least. But I did it, so I was paying the price now. “We’re driving to the next place to see if there’s any food left.”

  “Fine.” Not a morning person, of course.

  Although we were still in the town of Loup City, there could have been more Customers around. Too risky. And all of my tires were flat. I didn’t care; I would destroy my car if it would get me to some food.

  Slowly, we drove south, of course, a rather short distance before finding a place called Ravenna. Small town, schools, churches, a hospital. There had to be more than a simple crumb in this place. We first found a church, which according to the sign was called Ou Lad o ourde urch. With Gene left back in the car a block away, I searched the church to come up with absolutely nothing.

  I could find no other church, at least in view. So I found city hall. In there, the story was quite different. Deep in the back of the structure was a kitchen with an enormous refrigeration unit, chrome doors and all. Naturally, the refrigeration room was warm after years without electricity. Fortunately, the non-perishables remained on the shelf, hundreds of them in cans and jars. It was a smorgasbord and I could not have been more delighted. All of my troubles in past days with Gene meant nothing at this moment.

  “Gene, we have food. I’m going to eat.”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “I can take the food and go outside or something.”

  “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

  The man wasn’t feeling good. Or maybe, and this was probably the case, he was simply not hungry. After all, he’d eaten Customer. Disturbing, yes, but I was getting used to it in my own disturbing way.

  I started off with a regular can of pork and beans. Cracked it up thanks to the handle on its top, wiped the dust off of a nearby spoon, and ate the contents in what seemed like three scoops. The taste of steak or ice cream in the past could never compare to this. It was more delicious than the most delicious food on the planet. Then I went to the navy beans. They were better. Beside them were two cans of lima beans, both eaten with fury and both with incredible taste. At this point I could eat dirt and it would taste good. I had to eat what I could. There was no telling if such a special treat would lay before my eyes ever again. Rationing would not happen, not this day.

  When all was told, I ended up eating seven entire cans of food. No matter, for there were well over a hundred cans remaining for me to take. And take them I would. Firstly, however, I needed to rest after such a meal. I drank some of my water and passed out.

  No dreams for the hour or so I was in slumber. And I didn’t care if Gene went out on the prowl to find some people to kill and eat. That was old hat. I was basking in the purest definition of happiness, my tummy full and my worries almost wholly dead.

  I found a large canvas bag in decent shape on a shelf near the cans of food and filled it with cans big, small, and in-between. This would carry me for many, many days. I would then instruct Gene to go inside the refrigerator and gather his own supply after me.

  But upon emerging from city hall, I noticed a vacant spot in place of my car. Only a wet puddle of oil rested where my cruiser had stood hours prior. I dropped the bag of cans and immediately went for my cell.

  “Gene, are you around?”

  I received no answer. I tried again.

  “Gene. Answer me.”

  Great. My worries returned with a vengeance. In my possession was a grand surplus of food and in my stomach was a refreshing meal. Yet I had no transportation anymore. Funny how quickly I became accustomed to wheeled transportation after being without it for so long.

  “Hey,” came his voice over the cell after about twenty minutes. No picture.

  “What the hell, Gene? Do you have my car?”

  “Hold on.”

  “Why?”

  Again, he went silent. His mystery at the moment was just annoying.

  “Goddamn it! What the hell is this, Gene?”

  That was when I saw my car parked about a block away next to Kine’s Pharmacy, or what was once a pharmacy by that name. And the car had four filled tires put on it.

  “Happy birthday, buddy,” Gene said into the cell.

  “You did that?”

  “While you were in the church eating, yes. I knew you would take your time so I stole your cruiser, found an old tire store, and put on the new ones. I worked as a mechanic briefly in my youth so I knew how to do it.”

  “But why? It is not my birthday.”

  “Wallace, I’ve put you through some serious shit lately. That Flegtide changed me for the worse and I realize that. Yet you’ve stuck with me. You are truly a friend, and I’m glad I spent so long at the development trying to reach out to you. I chose right.”

  Wow. Such an apology I could not have anticipated. It was sincere and real, not forced or unbalanced. This was the Gene I befriended in the development. This was the Gene I gambled on. I liked this Gene a lot.

  “I’m speechless, Gene.”

  “And I’m hungry, Wallace. Do I get any of that food you have?”

  I explained the situation to him in city hall. He gathered up his own collection of cans and put them in his car. His eating, however, was curbed to just a few nibbles. I guess eating humans keeps one’s appetite down just a bit.

  I decided not to rush after that. In Ravenna we stayed for the night, both cars in view of each other on a street in the small town. While about a week earlier we were under the umbrella of burden to make haste to Oklahoma, our adventure had somewhat made urgency a secondary issue. We tried to enjoy the luxury of time.

  “Wallace?” Gene rang as I was dozing off.

  “What is it, Gene?”

  “I’m sorry I have been a j
erk to you. I wish I had never taken Flegtide.”

  “Hey, it’s a learning lesson. I’m dealing with it.”

  “I haven’t heard from Pauline since we left the development. The day before, in fact.”

  “Not even a text note?”

  “Not even.”

  “Why haven’t you told me, Gene?”

  “Too much burden. You’re risking your life and everything for me. And there were a few days you wanted nothing to do with me. I could tell. I let you think that way and if you were going to bail, you would bail. I wouldn’t stop you.”

  “I thought of leaving. Gene, you scared me. But I soon saw it was beyond your control. And for some reason, when you get these urges, you smell and seek out everybody except me. It doesn’t make a lot of sense but you’re leaving me alone.”

  “I haven’t even thought about that. You’re right. I mean, I’m completely aware when the urge hits.”

  “Super-Ire,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “Call it the super-Ire, Gene.”

  “Nice. When I get the super-Ire sensation, I always know you’re within a few hundred feet from me. It’s like you’re off-limits, a taboo person.”

  “I wonder what that is about.”

  “I do too.”

  Our exchange was well-needed. It was pleasant and understanding. We both relayed our respect for each other while it simply should not have been so after a week on the road. Since the Ire struck in 2030, humanity required earth-shattering shifts in the fundamental ways we did everything. Because of this, our population dwindled from bulging at the seams to a scant handful here and there. Had dinosaurs still existed, we would be at the very bottom of the food chain. Regardless, we were different humans now. I killed, Gene killed and devoured, and we should have all been condemned to burn in hell for eternity by all former human standards. Instead, we were cordial and excusing each other’s egregious maleficence. We were different, yet just like all others on the planet. Weird. I’ll take it.