by J. G. Martin
Derek held the flare out in each direction and searched for an out. Down the right hand passageway he saw what looked like a hole in the floor. He holstered his gun and dragged the girl behind him. She didn’t resist, but she was not moving on her own. They made it to the hole without any further attacks. Derek hoped he had scared the cannibals off, at least for the time being. There was a wooden ladder in the hole leading down into the darkness. He held the flare into the hole but it showed little other than the ladder and a passageway leading back in the direction they came.
He dropped down into the hole sliding down the ladder instead of climbing. He drew his pistol and quickly scanned the passageway but didn’t see any threats. It was a long passageway leading off into darkness. He looked up to yell for Rora to come down but she was already climbing down. Apparently staying close to him was very important to her. Once she was down he led the way down the passageway.
His journey was stopped suddenly as a pair of huge arms burst through the wall and grabbed him. Plaster and lathe exploded around him as he was pulled through the wall. Derek went airborne and flew across the room as the hands let go. He hit the ground hard, knocking the pistol and flare from his hands and sending his shotgun skittering away from the holster on his back. He rolled to his feet and surveyed the room.
He was definitely in the basement. It was a large room with no windows and a cinder block outer wall. Steps led up from the center of that wall. Likely an outside exit. The room was empty except for hooks suspended from the ceiling holding meat of some kind. Derek didn’t need more than one guess to know what it was. Along one of the interior walls was a very large wooden table like a butcher block, with meat and butcher’s implements on it. Above the block were shelves full of jars containing organs and body parts. The liquid in them was probably alcohol or formaldehyde. He was in the slaughterhouse. The smell of dead flesh assaulted Derek’s senses like a physical blow and he instinctively recoiled.
That recoil saved his life as a giant cleaver blade swished through the space he had been occupying seconds before. It was wielded by an equally giant man wearing only dirty pants and a blood stained butcher’s apron. The man must have been seven feet tall and the blade was easily five feet long. It looked like maybe it had been taken off of a commercial paper cutter. The cannibal butcher had a crazed look in his eye, and his wild long hair and beard only served to accentuate the effect.
Derek rolled away as the monster took another swing at him. It roared with rage and charged at him with the blade over its head. Derek dodged behind a cut of meat to avoid the blow and watched in horror as the blade easily severed the meat and nearly decapitated him. He needed a weapon but his guns were gone and his knife would probably be insufficient. He spotted a machete on the butcher block and started making his way there dodging hanging meat and blows from the butcher’s blade.
Derek made it to the block and grabbed the machete. It was a Gerber blade made of carbon steel, one of the best blades in the world. Someone had good taste, unfortunately probably a victim. He grabbed it just in time to turn and block a blow from the massive cleaver. The impact shook his entire body and he barely arrested the downward momentum before the blade touched his head. This guy was as strong as was big. The beast chuckled maniacally as he pushed downward forcing Derek back against the butcher block.
They battled furiously, sparks flying from the clashing blades. Derek was forced to give ground and circle to avoid the brutal blows of the brute. The giant cannibal followed him around the room swinging the massive cleaver like it was a knife. The blade sliced through the cuts of meat and bone like they were paper as Derek dodged among them, dropping huge hunks to the floor. He started to run out of room as the behemoth slowly cornered him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rora. She had picked up his double barreled shotgun and was aiming it towards him and the giant. He cursed to himself and slid to the side and dove down as she fired one barrel. Unprepared, the recoil knocked her down.
The hanging cuts of meat absorbed some of the pellets, but some got through and stung the monster as well as shattering some of the jars covering both of them in the liquid from the jars. The smell of the liquid told Derek it was indeed formaldehyde. It howled in pain but only looked angrier; it turned briefly to look at Rora. She screamed and backed towards the steps. Derek used the distraction to get to his feet.
“Stop shooting and get my pistol.” He yelled to Rora as he attacked the huge cannibal.
His speed and ferocity forced the monster back a few steps, but it responded by kicking him in the chest. Derek flew back and struck the butcher block hard. The blow knocked the breath out him and he realized he couldn’t win a straight up brawl with this thing. He needed to do something dramatic. He saw the flare still guttering on the flare not too far away and it gave him an idea.
When the monster took another massive overhand swing at him, Derek dodged to the side. The cleaver hit the butcher block with amazing force. Everything on it flew in different directions. Derek turned and swung his machete down with as much force as he could muster. The cannibal butcher tried to lift his blade to block but it was stuck deep in the block. Derek’s chop severed both of its hands at the wrist. Damn the blade was sharp, he was keeping this.
The monster screamed in pain and anger as it looked at the bleeding stumps where its hands had been. Derek wasted no time in rushing to Rora and grabbing his shotgun. He fired one blast, not at the giant but at the jars behind him. Formaldehyde splattered all over the beast and pooled on the floor. He kicked the flare over into the pool igniting the highly flammable liquid. The flame exploded in a rush and engulfed the cannibal butcher. He roared in agony and terror and lunged towards Derek and Rora. This thing just wouldn’t die.
“Now shoot!” Derek yelled at Rora.
She held his pistol in both hands and started pulling the trigger. She emptied the remaining clip into it and kept pulling the trigger. The giant butcher stumbled and fell as the shots tore into it. It laid face down still burning. The fire around the butcher block had spread and engulfed the wall. Smoke was beginning to fill up the room. There was another doorway opposite of the steps that Derek hadn’t noticed and he heard yelling and howling coming from behind it. The rest of the Night Children were coming.
“We HAVE to teach you how to shoot!” He snapped as he rushed to her side.
He snatched the pistol from Rora and holstered it. With the machete in one hand and pulling Rora with the other, he ascended the steps. They ended at a typical set of double cellar doors. These were anything but typical and were made of steel and were padlocked shut. Just his luck. Derek tried smashing it open with the machete but it didn’t budge. He heard the cannibals enter the slaughterhouse. The frequency and volume of the yelling and howling increased when they saw the fire and the carnage.
The smoke was increasing and the cannibals were right behind them. They needed to get out in the worst way. He could try to shoot out the lock, but the chance of a ricochet in such close quarters was high. He heard the pounding of footsteps as the Night Children realized they were at the doors. He had no choice. Derek pulled his Glock and reloaded quickly. He pushed Rora against the wall and turned away. Arm outstretched with the gun as far away from him as possible he fire two rounds at the lock.
The lock shattered and the ricochets just missed both of them. He tore the padlock off and frantically pushed one of the doors open. He shoved Rora through the opening and fired blindly back down the stairs. Howls of pain let him know he had hit a few of them. Sometimes you have to ignore Rule #5. Rule #1 always takes precedence.
He followed the girl through the door and slammed the door shut. He looked for something to hold it shut. Derek grabbed a shovel leaning against the house and stuck it through the door handles. Moments after he did that the cannibals tried to push the doors open. The shovel rattled as they tried to force their way through. Derek could hear the shovels wooden handle begin the crack as the angry Night Children pu
shed against the door. That wouldn’t hold long. He needed something sturdier. Desperate he jammed the burner’s MAC-10 between the handles. Derek took the clip out; you never know when more ammo might come in handy. That seemed to hold, and with the amount of smoke escaping the gap in the doors the cannibals would probably be overcome soon.
He looked around. The storm had passed leaving a coating of dust on everything. There was no sign of the other burners. Derek assumed that had either been lost in the storm or given up.
They stood in the back of the hotel which faced wide open country on this side. There were several outbuildings in the back and all the windows had similar grating on them. One of the buildings had double doors hanging slightly open and through the crack Derek could see an old pickup truck. Even people eaters need a ride sometimes.
He pointed to the truck and yelled to Rora, “Get in the truck!”
She nodded and they ran to the building and flung open the doors. Inside was an old Ford F-150 pickup truck. It looked in decent shape. They climbed inside and Derek used the butt of the machete to knock open the steering column. He pulled the wires loose and started trying to hotwire the car with little success. Rora suddenly batted his hands aside and said, “Let me do it.”
He watched in surprise as she quickly connected the right wires and started the truck. He stared at her openmouthed for a minute before he gathered his wits and threw the truck into drive. Derek stepped on the gas and they lurched out of the garage. As he drove away from the hotel they could see that the flames had spread to the first floor and the hotel was well on its way to being fully engulfed. Unless those cannibal freaks had another way out besides the cellar, they were all going to burn. A fitting end Derek thought to himself.
Chapter 9
June 10, 2029
Near Sayre, KS
Maximillian watched the truck pull away in the distance, the magnification in his cybernetic eye allowing him to see much further than the human eye. Who was this man? He had almost singlehandedly defeated the slavers, apparently outrun the burners, and escaped from a Night Children lair. Yes, he was battling the scum of the earth, but their sheer numbers should have stopped him.
Maximillian turned to the surviving burners. There were only four of them left from a pack of twelve. Two had perished in the Night Children lair and six of them had been overcome by the storm including their leader. The survivors leaned casually against their bikes and gazed lazily at him. They were obviously unimpressed by his appearance and that of his drones.
He wasn’t surprised. Maximillian made a point of trying to remain innocuous when he was away from Home. It was always better for people to underestimate you and let their guard down. Also, he didn’t want his location or identity broadcast to opposing factions like the U.S.T.G.. He preferred to work in the shadows and manipulate others into doing his dirty work for him. To that end he wore a long dark gray trench coat with a hood over a gray shirt and gray pants. His drones wore baggy gray jackets over a gray shirt and gray pants. At around six feet tall none of them were physically imposing.
Before the Collapse and the Aftermath, six feet would have above average. But only the biggest and toughest had survived the apocalyptic events that had overwhelmed the world. Being the biggest and strongest had become far more important than being rich, famous, or connected. Natural intelligence and cleverness still put you at the top, but being the best fighter made you the most likely to survive. Natural selection became the rule instead of the perverted system that had held sway before the Collapse.
What was not obvious was the heavy body armor they all wore beneath their coat and jackets. Or the powerful plasma pistols they concealed. Despite their average appearance both of his drones were genetically altered and were faster and stronger than even an above average human. Maximillian’s alterations went well beyond that and he was superior in every way to any human. But that was something he kept concealed.
He addressed the new leader, a well-muscled young black man, “You have failed me. You are worthless.”
The leader snapped back insolently, “Nobody talks to us like that!”
“It is a statement of fact. You did not capture the man or the girl. You failed.”
“We got caught in a sandstorm. How is that our fault?”
“Why didn’t you stop him when he left the hotel?”
“We were checking our bikes and looking for our brothers. That was more important. We can still catch up to him and grab them.”
“I think not. He is too much for you to handle with the number you have left.”
The leader grabbed at the gun slung over his shoulder and moved forward threateningly, “Are you questioning our abilities?”
“No, again merely stating a fact. The man is obviously well trained and well-armed. He has also proven to be very resourceful. That makes him very dangerous.”
“We can handle anyone.” The leader postured.
“Do not worry; I have another task for you. Send one of your men to the location on this envelope and have them deliver this message. Return to me with their answer.” Maximillian stepped forward and held out an envelope.
“What is the message?”
“Not your concern. But it is important it gets there as fast as possible. You are the fastest in the wasteland so I know I can count on you for that.”
The burners preened a little at the compliment. The leader gestured to one of his men and that biker took the message and sped off. Maximillian watched him leave and waited until he was out of sight. Then he sent a mental command to his drones. They caught the lounging burners off guard when they pulled plasma pistols from under their jackets and cut them down. A look of surprise was frozen on the leaders face as he slumped lifeless to the ground a gaping hole in his chest.
Maximillian viewed the bodies dispassionately. The weakness of humanity never failed to amaze him. How had un-evolved humans managed to conquer the world and sit atop it for so long? They fought amongst themselves to the point of destroying the world and would betray each other for material possessions. Father was right in his crusade to cleanse the world and remake it into a paradise for the Collective.
Maximillian stopped philosophizing and ordered the drones to move the bodies and bikes off the street and burn them. He tried to never leave any evidence of his passing. If the U.S.T.G. or any of the other factions knew where he was and what he was up to they would send overwhelming force to stop him. Nothing could be allowed to stop his mission. Whomever this man was, he would need to be dealt with quickly. They must get the device.
Chapter 10
June 10, 2029
Near Greensburg, KS
Derek and Rora made their way back to main road. Time was running out. That detour had cost them the better part of a day. Fortunately they had escaped almost unscathed and had found another vehicle. One probably better suited to long distance travel in the wasteland. The truck ran smoothly, it was obviously well cared for despite its outer appearance. The only problem they had was that it was low on gas. He had seen the signs start about twenty miles back advertising an Express Station about fifty miles up ahead.
“We are going to stop for gas at the Texas Republic Express Station up ahead.” Derek informed the girl.
“What is an express station?”
Derek laughed. “You didn’t get out much did you?”
Rora just pouted at him in response. “It’s not my fault we didn’t go running all over the wasteland. Daddy wanted a simple life.”
“Well, an Express Station is a fortified gas station and convenience store.”
When she continued to look at him blankly, he explained further. “You can get gasoline for the truck as well as food and supplies at the store. They usually have a wall or barbed wire fences surrounding the station and armed guards to protect it from raiders. They popped up about five years ago when gasoline refining got going again. Many of them are independents who took over abandoned stations. But Texas Republic Oil started open
ing their own stations in the last few years.”
“How do you pay?”
“It depends. Texas Republic stations take New Republic dollars and gold or barter. Independents usually just take gold or barter, but if they are close enough to the U.S.T.G. they take U.S.T.G. dollars as well. Some in the south take Confederate dollars instead of U.S.T.G. dollars.”
“How are you going to pay? You don’t look like you keep a lot of cash on hand.”
“Haha…I have some things I have collected that we can use for barter. Rule #9, take everything you can, you never know what you might need.”
“That’s the second time you mentioned a rule. What is that some sort of personal code?”
“Sort of. I would say it is the unofficial rules of the wasteland. Follow them and you have a chance to survive. Ignore them and you will surely die.”
“Who wrote them?”
“Some guy from Atlanta. He apparently had been working on a book about post-apocalyptic survival prior to the Collapse. He survived the Collapse and the Aftermath because he and his group followed the rules. After that they spread by word of mouth.”
“Do they really work?”
“So far they have…I’m still alive aren’t I?”
That reply was met by a not fully convinced sounding humph. Derek ignored her skepticism. The rules had saved his life time and time again. That guy in Atlanta must have been a visionary to foresee the upcoming apocalypse and be prepared for it. He doubted he would ever meet the guy since he was probably killed during the U.S.T.G. attack on Atlanta.
