Black Creek

by Dan Kemp

  "Speech!" someone yelled.

  These people and their speeches, Dorian thought as he smiled and started forward. He hugged the singer as he took the microphone, then pointed at her to signal a round of applause for the band.

  "I don't want to say too much, I know we're all excited to eat," he said to the crowd, who went up in an excited cheer.

  "I just want to say thank you to all of you for believing in me, and for believing in this town. Everyone is working very hard to make this place better for all of us, and I'm proud of you all. You deserve this night." Another cheer. "Now I see Tom's getting the burgers ready there, so before we eat I want to bring somebody else on stage. We went out there beyond the walls this morning, and we were able to rescue a few captives from some very bad people. I want to invite one wonderful young woman up here."

  "She’s a therapist, and despite the treatment she just endured herself she’s ready and willing to work with all of us to get our own lives back on track. So I want to be the first to welcome her to Black Creek. Come on up here, Rachel."

  The crowd cheered and clapped as she emerged, somewhat sheepish, from the back. Her long brown hair showed only the faint ghost of pink streaks toward the tips. She smiled and hugged him after she climbed onto the stage. "Welcome," Dorian said into the mic.

  "Thank you," she said. Tom walked up with two burgers on plates, the first of which he handed to Rachel. Dorian watched as she took a bite, beaming widely. After, he bit into his own. It was the best he had ever tasted.

  The party went on long into the evening, and Dorian contented himself for the most part to watch. After a while, he remembered the paper, still folded up in his pocket, which the man who called himself James had given him that morning. He fished it out and unfolded it, revealing another set of coordinates. After a moment, he stuffed it back inside his pocket.

  He wished James were there. Dorian knew he'd have enjoyed all of this much more than he did.

  Jess

  The rain fell in heavy sheets across her windshield.

  Jess could hardly see the road ahead through the crashing rain and frantic windshield wipers. Her car rumbled and bumped over what must be uneven pavement. Fortunately, the road was currently hers alone. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out, instantly soaking her hair, but giving her a clear view. An abandoned van sat in the middle of the road a hundred yards ahead.

  Good thing I looked.

  Jess was on a two-lane road somewhere in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. To her left was a post office. A weathered American flag still flew in front of the building, whipped by the wind. The entrance was destroyed, a boulder the size of a truck sitting in its place.

  Looking down, she noticed the asphalt of the parking lot, and of the road itself, was cracked and depressed as far as she could see. She was inside a massive crater. On all sides she could see the fallen remnants of other buildings, most no longer identifiable.

  She squeezed her way past the van, rain running down the back of her neck, before pulling her head back inside the car. Jess followed the road for a while, eventually lurching up and over the edge of the crater, beyond which the pavement was smooth once again.

  Just ahead, on the left, was a shopping center with a grocery store. The mere sight of it brought an ache and a growl from her stomach. Jess pressed a hand to her gut. It had been two days since she'd eaten anything at all. Still, she knew better than to expect much. Most of the obvious places had been thoroughly looted by now. It would be a dry place to wait out the storm, at least.

  Jess parked right by the entrance, the front of her car up on the curb. The awning of the building protected her from the loud, heavy downpour still falling overhead.

  The sight inside was a familiar one, the same one she'd seen at three other grocery stores in the two days since she left the city. Broken glass and bits of fallen ceiling tiles littered the floor in the entryway. Cash registers had been ripped away and left here and there, some looted and others still containing their now-useless bills. Two shopping carts sat empty and upended. The shelves between registers had been stripped bare.

  Jess turned to walk the other way, but jumped back when her foot came down with a crunch. There was a skeleton there, its head resting against the wall and the rest of its body splayed out on the ground. A puddle of some horrible partially dry, but still sticky, substance surrounded it.

  Clearly this person had died long ago, their body completely decomposed. Though there was no longer any smell, Jess instinctively covered her mouth with her shirt as she edged past. Jess walked up and down empty aisle after empty aisle. As she feared, the only food left was a small amount of long since rotted meat in the coolers.

  She tried the store room next, which was cold and pitch black. Jess fumbled through the dark briefly before, chuckling to herself for forgetting, summoning a small ball of fire in her right hand. By this small light she found her way through the storage area. Here, too, most of the boxes and crates had been torn apart and their contents taken.

  She rummaged through pile after pile of empty boxes before finally finding a single, small, dented can of peaches. She ripped off the lid and gave it only a cursory sniff before guzzling the whole thing. The sweet fruit juice was delicious, but left her wanting more rather than satiated.

  Jess left the back room and made another pass through the store. There were some supplies still available, simple things like tupperware and electrical cords. She took the largest plasticware she could find and drove a hole through the top of each side with a pair of scissors. This she threaded with an electrical cord after snipping off its plug. Outside, she strapped this contraption to the top of the van before reversing it back out into the rain. The dish quickly began to fill as she retreated back inside the vehicle.

  The sun was setting, and she was tired. The steady patter of rain on the roof invited the idea of sleep, so she laid her seat back. Jess felt in her pocket and slipped out the photo, suddenly anxious to see Rachel's face. She wanted nothing more than to find her, yet she had no idea where to begin searching.

  If she’s even alive.

  Jess tried to push that particular thought aside, along with the thought that her being alive was also no guarantee of her safety.

  There was no right place to start searching. She just had to start. Jess still had no real idea what the state of the world out there was. Obviously she wasn't the only one alive in this wasteland, but she hadn't encountered another living person since leaving the city. Either almost everyone was dead, or they were all holed up somewhere. Was there a safe zone somewhere she didn't know about? She had tried scanning the radio, but every frequency was nothing but static.

  After a while, her racing mind quieted and Jess drifted off to sleep, the photo of Rachel resting on her chest.

  There was a loud boom and Jess awoke, nearly leaping from her seat. It was morning, the yellow-orange sunrise just peeking over the horizon. The rain had stopped sometime during the night. She spun around in her seat, looking for the source of the noise. Nothing seemed to have changed, and she was beginning to think she may have dreamed it when it happened again.

  The earth shuddered with another, louder boom. She scrambled out of her car and crouched behind the door, peeking out and looking all around. A low, almost mournful cry went out through the air and the heavy booms grew nearer.

  They were footsteps, those of a massive, long-necked animal that soon came into view. It walked slowly, lumbering alone along the roadway with its neck stretched at least thirty feet in the air and letting out another howling bellow. The massive creature seemed to take no notice of Jess, who crept hesitantly out from behind the car to watch it go by. It did, those heavy footfalls fading off into the distance as it went.

  Her stomach was growling again. There was nothing else to eat, but she took the dish of water off the car and sipped eagerly from it. The water was cool and soothing in her empty stomach, though she knew the feeling wouldn’t last long.

  Tim
e to move on. She climbed back into the car and pulled onto the road once again. The gas gauge read a quarter tank left. Gasoline, at least, had been much easier to find than food. Though many vehicles were destroyed or stolen, plenty had been abandoned and left in parking lots and along streets. Siphoning the gas was simple enough.

  She left that little ghost town and took back to the open freeway, which ran through a grassy plain. Off to her left, the dinosaur she'd seen before trudged peacefully away across the grass. The road before her was empty as she went south, and her mind began to wander again. Much as she tried to fight it, she could only picture Rachel lying dead somewhere, reduced to nothing but bones and mush like the person in that grocery store. Or, possibly even worse, still alive but taken captive by some horrible maniac.

  Jess shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She turned on the radio, scanning through the static, again to no avail. The white noise alone was enough to distract her, though.

  A few minutes later, the sound of other engines began to cut through that static. In her rearview mirror, she could see five motorcycles, quickly advancing and spread out in position to flank her. She reached over to the passenger seat, grabbing the pistol she'd found in the city. Only seven bullets left in it, last she checked. The rest of her meager supplies were in the trunk.

  She turned off the radio as they drew near, two men on either side and one behind. They wore torn leather and denim, and they whooped and hollered as they surrounded her. Her heart raced, but she steadied her hands against the steering wheel, controlling her breathing. One of them fired a shot, shattering her back window.

  Alright then.

  She slammed hard on the brakes, and the biker behind her had no time to swerve before he and his bike both went down beneath her car, which skidded and spun out to the side as the remaining bikers doubled back toward her. Jess leapt out of the car and took cover behind the front wheel. She stayed entirely out of sight, waiting for the sound of their engines stopping to make her move.

  Jess popped up from cover and fired twice at the closest man, who was dismounting his bike only feet away. She hit him in the chest and head, and he fell limply backward over his bike. Bullets whizzed overhead as she dropped back down. One hit the tire which hissed as it quickly deflated.

  "Get her!"

  Jess crouch-ran around the front of the car and sprang forward, firing another two shots at close range into the chest of the next man, who had just come around this side of the car. As he fell, she tried to roll to the side, but a bullet clipped her in the right flank. She hit the ground hard with a shout.

  "Dumb bitch!" The last two stood over her now, rifles trained on her. One kicked the pistol out of her hand before leaning down to grab her by the shoulder. Jess pressed her hand to his face, and blasted him with a wave of flame that seared his skin and spread across his clothes. He fell, shrieking, to the ground where he kicked and rolled.

  "What the fuck?" The final biker was staring at his dying companion as Jess got back to her feet. He only took notice of her as she grabbed him by the neck and drove a knee into his groin. He doubled over and Jess shoved him to the ground, disarming him of his rifle. She put the barrel to his groin now as he looked up at her.

  "What were you planning to do with me?" she asked.

  "Fuck you!" he screamed.

  She pulled the trigger and there was a bang and a sick squish, as blood squirted up the front of her shirt. He screamed terribly, hands clasped to the former location of his manhood. Jess knelt, dropping the rifle and placing the end of her pistol against his forehead.

  "Was that your actual answer, or do you just have a limited vocabulary? Either way, I don’t like it,” Jess said, tapping the pistol against his head. “One more chance. What was your plan? Rape me, rob me, kill me? Sell me?"

  "Sell you," he whimpered. "Take what you had, sell you off to whoever's buying."

  "And who's that?"

  "Plenty of people."

  Jess pulled the photo of Rachel from her pocket. "You seen her?" She stuck the picture in front of his face, but he averted his eyes.

  "What does it matter?"

  "Your answer determines what I do to you next. Have you seen her? Look at her." Jess grabbed his hair and pulled hard until he looked.

  "No. I haven't seen her."

  Some small bit of relief washed over her. "Good. Who might have seen her? Where would you have taken me? Tell me that and you live."

  "Rockwood," he said. "There's a town there, safe. They have auctions. Gotta have something to trade, though."

  "Trade, for people?"

  "Yeah. If you're looking for somebody who might have got captured, look there."

  "Alright." Jess stood, releasing him. When he moved to sit up, she shot him in the head.

  ***

  Rockwood was a small town near the Maryland border. There was a slight hustle and bustle to the place. To go from the vast, empty expanses in which she had spent the last few days to this was somewhat disorienting.

  Riding one of the dead men’s motorcycles, she entered the town with no trouble, though heavily armed guards standing here and there seemed to watch very carefully. Everyone was armed to some extent, though they all seemed to be getting along well enough for now.

  There were men and women, rough looking brigands like the ones she had encountered. There were one or two sharply-dressed men who were accompanied by similar bodyguard types. On one street corner, four scantily-clad men and women solicited anyone who passed.

  Most of the activity in town was centered around what seemed to be an old restaurant. Outside people laughed and shouted, drinks in hand, and nobody paid her much mind as she entered. It was raucous inside, the bar tightly packed. The patrons laughed and yelled. Somewhere, someone was singing. The bartender, a burly bald man in suspenders with a red beard, eyed her immediately as she entered and made her way to the end of the bar.

  "Drink?"

  "How would I pay? I'm new to town."

  "Credit. Trade supplies to the quartermaster for these." He lifted up a handful of green slips of paper with a scrawled signature on them.

  "I see. I don't have anything right now."

  "That's alright. One for free, on me."

  "Well thank you. I'll just have water."

  He laughed. "That's asking even more. Alright, miss." He poured her a cold glass, which she happily downed.

  "I hear there's an auction," she said.

  "You don't want any part of that, miss," he replied, eying her suspiciously.

  She hadn't been sitting for more than a minute when a commotion began at the other end of the bar, people shouting and pushing. Smoke was rising, too. The bartender stormed off, pulling a shotgun down from the wall. Jess pushed her way through the crowd toward the front of the bar. The noise was getting louder as everyone around her started to realize something was happening. Jess kept pressing forward.

  "It's the Church!" someone shouted, and the crowd grew more anxious. Those deeper inside the building pressed forward toward the exit, and those at the front tried to retreat the other way. It made a gridlock of bodies that only grew thicker and more claustrophobic as smoke filled the room. Somewhere outside, she could hear gunfire.

  Jess felt hot and her lungs tight. She struggled forward, pushing with all of her might to slip past each individual person. Something hard hit the back of her head, and she saw black.

  Jess woke some time later in a big, cold room. She was moving, she noticed now. The whole room was. And she wasn't alone. There were at least a dozen others with her, most sitting with their head in hands or otherwise staring distantly. The movement and sound of the room told her it wasn't a room at all, but the back of a large truck. Moonlight filtered in through cracks in the back door.

  They went on for a while before they finally came to a stop. When the doors opened, it was a muscular woman who stood beyond them, iron shackles hanging from her wrists. Two others in crimson rags stood behind her. They each held an auto
matic rifle, and no one inside dared to move.

  The woman took them one by one, and Jess was the third to go. Out of the truck she was led into a tent, then a tiny holding cell where another man waited for her. He looked old, wore a crimson robe and had a crooked nose. He smiled at her as the door closed behind her, leaving just Jess, him, and the woman in chains.

  "What's your name?"

  "Jess," she said.

  The woman hit Jess in the back of the head, a heavy blow that staggered her.

  "You have no name," the man said. "Not in this place."

  He handed her a gray set of rags that bore the number seven. He started to grab her shirt, to rip it away, but Jess palmed him hard in the nose. He fell back a step and Jess turned and kicked the woman in the gut. She doubled over just as Jess stomped on her foot, then set her alight with a burst of flame. The woman wailed and clawed at her clothing, trying to no avail to save herself. Her rifle hit the ground, so Jess picked it up and leveled it at the robed man, who was backed up against the door, fear in his eyes.