by SD Tanner
At sixty-four years of age she hadn’t expected to survive the end of the world, and in some ways she regretted she had. Their two children and three grandchildren disappeared in the aftermath of the disaster, and she’d never know what happened to them. When Ruler invaded New York, he’d somehow missed them and they’d stayed in their apartment until the city was liberated. She couldn’t understand how or why they’d always been so lucky, but they had been, and these days she mostly felt sad and empty. Her life before the outbreak was filled with restful days and eagerly following the lives of her children. With a decent pension and owning their apartment, they hadn’t been poor, but they hadn’t been wealthy either. She and Tom lived a low-key retirement with few challenges.
Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she missed her children and the soft warmth of her grandchildren who, even though they lived outside of the city, visited regularly enough to fill her life with joy. Before the disaster they’d intended to sell their apartment to pay for their children’s houses in Poughkeepsie. Being in their early sixties, they hadn’t felt quite old enough to live with their children, but the time had been coming and she’d been looking forward to it. While she sat reminiscing, watching over the city, there was a childish giggle behind her. Surprised, she turned and her oldest grandson, Peter, had his hand over his mouth, giggling like he had a secret he couldn’t tell. Her heart tightened in her chest with both joy and fear. Her mind told her Peter couldn’t be there, but her heart leapt to see his beautiful face again.
Unable to resist, and desperately wanting to feel his tiny warm body in her arms, she reached out to him and said hesitantly, “Peter?”
His face began to shift, and to her horror it slowly transformed, becoming long and sharp with deep black holes for eyes and a sneering smile. Its body was still that of a young boy wearing jeans and a striped shirt, but he had the face of a demon.
Sneering widely, the demon said in a slow sinister voice, “No.”
***
Greg (Isle of Wight)
The move to the Isle of Wight was a wrench. As a combat leader, he’d been reluctant to leave the Marine supply base, but Captain Ted insisted he was needed to help establish the island. On the one hand, he’d always wanted to travel, and on the other, he didn’t like being so far away from the action. Initially he’d been excited, but once they got there it quickly became apparent there were almost no hunters left. His squad of three men and two women were nothing more than babysitters, and that was a far cry from the battles he’d been promised. Today was different. Today they were heading back home to the U.S. for the first time in months, and he and his team were waiting at the small runway, ready to board their flight. They each carried a large duffel bag plus their gun and a backpack, and sitting on the tarmac, he surveyed his team again making sure they were ready to go. Connie was a small dark haired girl in her early twenties, Frank was around the same age, Marcus and Jock were older and Jenna was a muscular woman in her mid-thirties. They’d trained and worked as a combat team for about six months, and gotten to the stage where they treated one another like annoying siblings.
“Greg, stop acting like a mother hen,” Connie complained.
Considering they were only taking a flight back to the mainland, he was being overbearing and he knew it, but being so bored on the island, he wanted to get back into the action. They hadn’t even gotten to join Captain Ted when he reconned the UK, and they’d spent most of their time unloading supplies from the containers at Southampton, and ferrying the goods to Cowes on the Isle of Wight. He couldn’t remember the last time he even needed to fire his gun, and he was itching to get back to what he considered his real job.
One of the aircrew waved them over and he ordered, “Let’s go.”
They climbed the steps onto the 737, and once inside the cramped cabin, he saw the plane was mostly full of supplies. The haul from the containers was considerable, and some of the tinned goods and medical supplies were being sent back to the bases on the mainland. Finding a spare seat next to a window, he put his pack into the overhead locker and left his duffel bag next the bulkhead. Preferring to keep his gun with him, he settled into the narrow airline seat and stared out of the tiny window. His team found themselves seats and Jenna sat down next to him.
“No one to nag us to buckle up and turn our phones off,” Jenna observed smugly.
He grunted by way of reply and continued to stare out the window. Although he found Jenna attractive, she’d made it clear she preferred women. Combat leaders were not supposed to become sexually involved with their teams, but he knew it happened all the time. If Jenna hadn’t been gay, he would have tried to find his way into her bed. Without any announcement, the plane began to rumble down the runway, picking up speed until he felt the wheels leave the ground. With a slight wobble, it found its place in the air, and he was pressed back into his chair as the plane quickly gained altitude. In his short life, he’d travelled very little and flying wasn’t something he ever expected to do after the end of the world. Knowing when they could no longer find the fuel or maintain the aircraft there would be no air travel, he peered out of the window enthusiastically to see the island from the air, but what he saw surprised him.
Below was a patchwork of green fields with long winding roads he’d travelled many times, and clusters of grey and white houses. Over the houses was a dark smokiness he hadn’t seen from the ground. It was as if there was an angry cloud hanging over them.
“What is that?” Jenna asked, as she leaned into him to stare out of the window.
“I dunno, but it doesn’t look right to me.”
***
Geraldine (Small Island)
“Go away,” she ordered curtly to the man hovering over her.
Waving her hand over her head, she thought, they’re persistent today. The man was floating two feet in the air and pulling faces in an attempt to scare her. While he flapped his hands at her, she calmly continued to knead the bread dough and began to sing. Glancing out of the kitchen window of what was once a luxurious island resort, the children were playing on a small patch of grass surrounded by untrimmed palm trees. She knew they were dead, but their delighted laughter still warmed her heart. Horror movies always painted dead children as terrifying ghosts, but in her experience, children didn’t know they were dead and were mostly happy souls. According to her mother, she could see the dead from the moment she was born. She remembered spending many contented hours playing with other children before she learned they were dead and no one else could see them.
Before the outbreak, she worked as a medium helping people make contact with their loved ones, and although she could see the dead, she wasn’t always guaranteed to see the dead people the living wanted to talk to. Her customers often left disappointed, and she would try to help the lost soul who had appeared to find its way home by trusting the light. Of course, not all lost souls were destined for the light, and many of them haunted the living to avoid going to hell. Those lost souls were as badly behaved dead as they were alive and she tried to avoid communicating with them.
Having neither married nor had children, the end of the world hadn’t meant much to her. The dead continued to walk the earth, only now in many different forms. Frowning, she worried about the increasing number of ghosts she’d seen over the past few days. Whenever the dead visited, they brought an icy coldness and there were so many lately, even their idyllic island was becoming colder. Knowing there wasn’t anything she could do about them, she wiped her damp hands on a towel, and walked out into the small patch of garden.
“Hello sweethearts,” she said warmly, as she walked up to the four young children playing tag.
Four tiny faces turned in unison to look at her, and crouching down to their height, she said gently, “Look around, little ones. Do you see a bright, pretty light?”
All four children turned to look at a single, sturdy palm tree that still had fruit hanging on it, waiting to be harvested.
“Follow that light,
my little angels and you’ll be home again.”
Their faces broke into happy smiles, and then they floated high into the sky until she couldn’t see them anymore. Smiling to herself, she walked back to the kitchen to finish making their bread for the day.
CHAPTER TWO: If you love something, set it free (Gears)
Waking up in the hotel room, the lamp on the table opposite his bed lift into the air, slowly drift three feet across the room, and then dropped to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he thought, what now? He’d arrived the night before to inspect the set-up of the New York base and he was in no mood for more crazy. After Ruler terrorized the city, there were a hundred thousand people left in New York and on Staten Island. There was no way they could continue to supply them with food, and they planned to move the bulk of the survivors to the UK. It had been two months since they liberated the city from Ruler’s brief, but devastating control. In many ways, the traumatic experience brought people closer together, and Mike and Logan now provided much needed leadership to the beleaguered survivors. Before leaving with Captain Ted and Ip to establish control of the UK mainland, Pax set up a process to select and train scavengers and combat shooters. After Ruler’s abuse, more people volunteered than not, and it seemed everyone wanted some payback. He didn’t blame them, and wished he could find Ruler and kill him for the sheer satisfaction of watching him die, even if he wouldn’t stay dead.
Flicking back the covers on his bed, he swung his feet over the side and sighed unhappily. Ip was with Pax in the UK, and although he could communicate with her telepathically, it wasn’t the same as having her with him. Under the control of Ruler, someone had got the generators working, which meant they could use the elevators and they didn’t have to hike up and down the stairs, but unfortunately there was no running water. With nothing to do in his room other than sleep, he pulled on his boots and shirt, grabbed his pack and gun then left the room. While standing in the corridor waiting for the elevator, he was greeted by Logan who nodded dourly at him.
He nodded back at Logan. “Headin’ out to the ships?”
“Yes, you?” Logan replied, in his usual abrupt manner.
“I hope you’re screening ‘em this time. I don’t wanna repeat of the problem we had at the Isle of Wight. Losin’ two thousand survivors is understandable given the circumstances we live under, but it ain’t ideal.”
“Two competing demands caused that problem. The need for security lost out to the need to keep people fed and safe.”
“And what’s different this time?”
The dock was two miles from their hotel, and after using the portable toilets, washing, and grabbing breakfast from one of the community kitchens, they drove to the Manhattan Cruise Terminal. Pushing past the crowd of people in the boarding area, the transport ship was being loaded with over a week’s worth of supplies to feed the two thousand people already beginning to board the ship. Although it was still only seven-o-clock in the morning, thousands of people were standing around, drinking and chatting, while they waited to be processed and allowed on board. Despite the crowded room looking disorganized, he realized the people were actually in a long and winding queue. Kat was sitting at a table next to the gangway with several other people, and two people were standing facing her. Before being allowed onto the ship, they were questioned and Kat took down their details. It was a slow process and they would be there for many hours while she and her team slowly and meticulously checked every passenger.
With a flick of his head toward Kat, Logan said, “Kat’s screening people thoroughly this time.”
“That’s gonna take all damned day…and night.”
“Why do you care? You’re not going.”
That was true and maybe that was the problem. He would have preferred to be heading to the UK where Ip was working and unhappy about being without him. Knowing there was a dangerous gang there called the Krays, as well as the surviving hunters, he understood Pax needed her with him. He hadn’t seen much evidence of the hunters during his recon of the UK, but they were still there, even if in lesser numbers than the U.S.. They theorized, with the UK being an island, many of the hunters had starved, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any and everyone knew how much damage a single hunter could do. Pax was right to take Ip, but he never liked her being away from him. She might be good at controlling hunters, but she wasn’t practically minded, couldn’t use a gun, and her overconfidence when confronted by danger worried him. She might not fear death, but there was many a time he wished she did.
He grumbled, “I’m jus’ sayin’ you’re gonna have people stuck out here overnight and it ain’t that warm.”
“Firstly, that’s not your problem, and secondly, Ip will be fine. Pax is a good soldier.”
Realizing Logan read him well, he nodded. “And Ted?”
“Ted’s a good soldier too, but Pax is a better one. Ted’s on a pretty sharp learning curve, so cut the kid a break.”
Captain Ted was only in his early thirties and he carried a lot of responsibility for someone so young and inexperienced. Their last transport run to the UK hadn’t gone smoothly and he was forced to bomb their own ship and the people on it. He wasn’t there and he could only imagine how difficult that decision had been. He hadn’t lost confidence in Captain Ted, but the situation made clear, the young man still had a lot to learn.
Nodding to Logan, he said, “Yeah, I know, but I think I should have gone to the UK with Pax.”
“No, Gears, you shouldn’t have. Every time the three of you are out of contact, everything goes wrong. At least one of you needs to be available to take command of emerging situations.” Shaking his head, he added, “I can’t believe how frequently such a complex and dynamic operation has been left without an experienced leader.”
Logan’s stern, but correct advice was getting on his already brittle nerves. “Jus’ how the hell am I supposed to sort Ruler out when I’m so damned busy minding the shop?”
“Well that’s the problem, Gears. You’re not supposed to be a manager.”
Throwing his hands up in disgust, he exclaimed crossly, “I know that!” Giving Logan a pained look, he added, “Otherwise I would have been an officer.”
Ignoring his jibe, Logan said, “At some point you need to hand over the reins. I’ve been thinking about Ip’s interpretation of our current situation…’
“What? You mean her half-assed idea that we’re Horsemen and she’s Death?”
From the first time he was able to communicate with Ip, she told him they were the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and it was their role to judge man and decide if he should live or die. In her version of the world, he and his foster brothers were immortal, but by being reborn into a new body, all she’d proven to him was that she was immortal.
Raising his hand as if to calm his disbelief, Logan nodded. “I get that it’s a weird take on the world, but what if she’s right?”
He eyed Logan doubtfully. “You’re the last person I would have thought would buy in on this bullshit.”
Logan nodded understandingly. “I know, but I’m willing to accept the world isn’t built the way I thought it was. When the dead walk the earth, you have to change your way of thinking about things, and if she’s right, then you’re wasting time on the wrong problem. You need to delegate and walk away.”
“We did that and Ted lost two thousand people establishing the Isle of Wight. Plus we lost the CDC and five hundred people on the ship. Not to mention Mackenzie now has a pet demon inside him, and I don’t think either of ‘em are happy about that.”
“As long as Mackenzie keeps his pet under control, I fail to see the issue. The point I’m making is, if the solution to this problem lies in you and your brothers cornering and confronting Ruler, then you need to focus on finding him and doing just that.”
He was more than willing to spend the rest of his life hunting Ruler and killing him repeatedly if that’s what it took to rid the world of the little shit. L
ately he was starting to wonder if he should let go of control of the bases and focus entirely on Ruler. He might not be a Horseman, but he knew Ruler was the real problem he needed to solve.
Still surprised Logan even entertained Ip’s beliefs, he asked, “And what if Ip’s jus’ crazy?”
“I understand your skepticism, but she might be right. Oh sure, maybe you aren’t the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but I think you might be the only people who can confront and stop Ruler.”
Logan’s view matched his own growing conviction. “How do you figure that?”
“Because you should all be dead. With all due respect, what you’ve managed to achieve in so short a timeframe has been nothing short of a miracle. Time and again, Ruler has attacked and you’ve always managed to rebuild and continue. Either you’re the luckiest guys I’ve ever met, or you’re so damned smart you should have been a General.”
Knowing Logan didn’t think he should have been a General of any sort, he asked dourly, “What’s your point?”
“Too much has happened, Gears. Ruler has demons that can possess people. Ip died and was reborn. Ruler got inside my head and Pax’s. Ip has tattoos and a sword that matches them. Pax is developing the same tattoos and there’s a baby with them as well. People are being tortured by demon super hunters and suffering long after they should be dead. Ruler has already been reborn once, and has no doubt been reborn again since he shot himself in the head.” Leaning toward him, he said sincerely, “None of this can be explained simply and Ip’s the only person who says she knows what’s really going on. I think you need to believe her and I mean really believe her.”
