by P. S. Power
The rest of what had to come he didn't need to see at all.
But he was going to anyway.
It wasn't what he thought though, it was a thing he knew had never happening in front of him at all, though he watched it like he was there. Rachel and Colleen coming into the hardware store. With Derrick Holsom.
His mother talking to them, happy to see the Rachel, Mickey's little friend, was looking so well, noticing the ring on her finger and congratulating her. The smaller girl asking after him, though Rachel felt embarrassed about it all. Because she'd blown it. Colleen planning to steal Derrick from her, to punish her, writing her own song. Jake didn't see it all, but it was clear anyway. Derrick feeling...
Amazed that anyone female even noticed him at all. It was all thanks to that woman, the one that had given him that pill...
That had happened just before he met Rachel, the woman explained it to him, but it didn't really make sense to Derrick, who wasn't after all, very bright. It was supposed to make him irresistible to women. All he had to do to earn it was take a pill one time, then date Rachel for a while. Since then Derrick had been able to hit one or two women a week without doing more work than saying hello. He'd even nailed Rachel's sister, with her in the other room and she didn't even care.
It was in the man's thoughts that Jake saw what had happened, how a strange woman had approached the man at a party, her clothing a little odd, but attractive enough to get his attention. How she handed him the pill, assuring him it was safe. He was a cop and should have known better than to take something from a stranger, especially with a bullshit story like she'd told him, but it was just the one pill and didn't even make him feel funny.
Jake had to focus to see the face, but once he did his stomach fell. She was dressed like a Technologist, but the face was one he recognized after a bit. It... Couldn't be though, because she just looked so much different now.
Older. So much so that he had to be wrong. When she spoke though, he got it. There was no doubt, it was her voice.
Lois.
From the House.
Chapter seven
Jake wasn't in a habit of making life decisions based on fever dreams or hallucination, ghosts of Rachel notwithstanding. In the morning though, after all the scenes had replayed a dozen times in different orders, showing slightly different events, or in a few cases things that he hadn't know had happened at all, he got himself going. There were things in the visions... like a younger version of Lois living next to the hardware store, just down the street in a duplex, for years. Watching them. That and Colleen coming to the shop to see him almost every day, just looking through the window, even after the whole thing with Derrick was over.
Just making sure Mickey was Ok. Because she still loved him.
There was no fire left, not even a bit of glow in the middle of the ashes. Jake would have to spend a match later then. He stuffed some of the charcoal in a pocket though, since it would burn better than damp leaves or twigs and headed out, hoping that something would break soon. Other than his mind.
The idea that Lois wasn't herself... it was insane. The only thing there was that he recognized her now. She'd come into the shop a lot for a while, talking to him sometimes. Her voice was odd, cool and logical, like the others of her people he'd met. Provided it wasn't just imagination of course. Socks on hands, he trudged for hours, stopping only for water, no longer certain he had the right direction at all. On a whim he released another capsule, not knowing if he was still in a clean area or not. He hadn't seen anything at all. Nothing dead, or undead, except the fox he'd killed. Forever ago.
The second break he'd had as far as things went had to do with an old bottle he found. It was heavy and filthy inside, but made of glass. That meant, with work, he could melt snow in it. He packed it tight and put it in his jacket pocket, knowing that wouldn't be warm enough, but also knowing that he both needed water and couldn't afford to lose the heat putting it inside his coat would cost him. It was maddening, but he kept going, he'd found streams before. On the next one he decided to just follow it. He should have already he realized, even if it went East or West, just in case it led to a larger river or something.
The day was one of miracles apparently because he managed to make a fire and shoot a pig for dinner. It was big and well fed, coming along with a partner that he also shot several times. He wasn't that hungry, but he just couldn't afford to be injured and the female had seemed a little upset about the loss of her mate. Jake felt horrible about taking their lives, but forced himself to cook them anyway, even as he swallowed guilt over the death with each bite. It was like he didn't have enough energy left to hide from himself anymore.
It was screwed up. He had to eat, regardless of his emotions.
The food and warmth kept him going though, and he made a better shelter that night, packed with snow that was partially melting. If it was getting warmer he couldn't tell otherwise, but it seemed like it had to be. He shivered through the night, great wracking things that didn't allow for rest at all. It kept him alive though, most likely. For a few more hours.
The nights were the worst though.
As soon as the sun went down he'd start seeing visions, sometimes of things he recognized, things from the past that he'd done, people that he'd hurt somehow, normally by not paying enough attention to them or by being scary. Each person he killed had been very afraid when it happened, at first. Some found peace as they slipped away, which was good to know. He hadn't wanted them to feel bad, most of them had just had to die for one reason or another.
He cried a lot, living the things he'd done over and over. Each life taken was a failure, even when it had saved hundreds more in the long run. Every person he intimidated into doing what was right when they were tired or hungry hated him a little for it and that hurt too.
He just wanted to be loved. For someone to like him and it seemed like no one really did.
Jake slowly started to understand his life though, through those visions, real or not. It hadn't made sense to him before, that his true nature was kind and gentle, A Very Good Person that was supposed to give love to the world. Hope. Not be whatever the hell he'd become. A monster that took what was best inside himself and stuffed it down into a bottomless pit, to keep even worse creatures from killing those around him. It sounded so great when he just thought the words. Noble even.
He'd done it for them. For the others. Even when they hated him for doing it. Standing over the corpses of their friends, dying a little inside because someone had to protect them and no one else was willing to. That was a lie though, wasn't it? The visions showed him that most of the others would have rather just died, rather than be kept alive through the hell they were in.
Jake didn't let them die. He kept fighting, even when he should have let them go. The world wouldn't thank him for it either, not for a long time, if ever. He'd go down in history as only a monster in the end. No more than a bully with a gun and a chip on his shoulder, because no one knew who he'd been supposed to be. They couldn't see the art and friendship there, hidden behind the mask.
The worst part was that it really didn't matter that he knew these things or not. Oh, there was a great deal of introspection going on and he became pretty self-aware, but it didn't help him, having those old feelings there inside, the biggest part of himself below the surface. Hidden under the still waters of his mind, in a deep and dark place.
A very dark place that he just didn't need right now.
No, what he needed to do was to forget all of that, forget being Mickey Robson, or even Jake the killer and just survive. He had to let go of himself and learn to not care for a while, about almost anything. Just the next step, the next breath. He had to become only what was needed now. It wasn't as easy as it sounded, the past haunting him like it was.
Each morning he walked, focused on the fire he carried, on finding water to drink or on the next bit of food. He followed rivers and streams, killing any animals he found, barely noticing when
he did half the time. The snow slowly melted, but the days didn't get any longer. The one respite he got, sitting near his fire each night was remembering what he used to be. It was toxic, but better than staring into the night wondering when death would come for him.
The screaming shook him out of his fugue state one day, just after noon. At first it sounded far away, a sound that was all wrong for the woods he was in. A human sound. Young and scared. Dropping the fire log he carried into the muck and grassy mud he'd been walking on, a road he realized, or a big path, Jake ran, his body screaming at him in protest as he did, nine in hand.
It took a long time to get to the scene, a girl that looked about sixteen or so, rail thin and dressed in rags that hid her form enough he wasn't sure how he knew it was a female at all, was on the ground. Whimpering. Holding a glinting blade that had a nice shine to it. In front of her was a white form, a man, naked and distorted. It was hard to see, the light coming from the pale skin was almost as blinding as snow, but Jake recognized it. A cannibal. Windigo. The real kind that he'd never even managed to hit with a bullet, since they were too fast.
"Hey." Jake tried to scream the word himself, but his voice came out sounding tired and weary of the world. Slightly raspy.
"I think you and I have an appointment?"
OK, it was a crazy thing to say, even he could tell that as he charged it, waiting to close, knowing that it would dart away if he tried shooting too soon. The whole thing felt odd, like it wasn't real, only the pain in his body giving him a sign that there was anything going on at all. For all he knew it was still just in his mind.
For some strange reason the white creature didn't move and the girl had gone silent as well, both of them just seeming shocked for some reason. Jake didn't fire until the end of the barrel nearly touched the hard white flesh of the thin being.
He missed of course.
The thing was just too fast, it blurred as he tried for it, bullets raining from his hand, the gun a part of him. It wasn't enough though, the thing didn't do more than dodge a little, smiling with its ragged teeth showing. Taunting him. Jake didn't care, just trying to figure out what to do.
He reacted calmly as the weapon in his hand clicked, empty of anything useful. Smiling he remembered something funny. In the old Superman television show, the black and white one from the fifties, when the bad guys ran out of bullets they always threw the gun at Supes. Laughing he did that too, which did nothing at all. The creature moved on him then though, almost as if it didn't realize he had another weapon coming out, his forty-five that was tucked into the holster on his back.
He fired into the things middle as its oversized sticklike arm grabbed his throat. It was strong, but didn't notice the shooting for the first two rounds or so. Bright blood sprang up in a lovely blossom on the pale skin, the thing finally going down, pure white flesh becoming filthy from the mud.
"That's a good boy. Fucking die now." He realized that he'd already shot it in the head when he spoke, but that he was also pretty beaten up, scratched and hit more than once.
The world went black, even though he didn't really feel that injured. It didn't feel like anything though, so Jake decided not to worry about it. Maybe all the rest of this had been a dream and he was already dead anyway? It made more sense than zombies and way more than him being some kind of very good anything.
He woke up later in a dark space, a cool cloth being patted on his forehead, there was speaking but it sounded funny at first. English, but with an accent.
"We should take his weapons and kill him. We don't know if those new things will make him turn or not!" The voice was hushed and male, which got Jake to open his eyes and look around, forcing himself to his feet. He was on a real bed, but in the same clothing he'd been wearing since he'd left the House.
"I don't think so." Jake rasped the words and sounded cold and hard, rather than like he was going to fall down. He walked to the door of the room, a real house, if not one overly large, and dug the second to last capsule out of his pocket. The pale cream color of it visible in the sun when the front door got opened.
Holding it up he smiled, there were four people there, the girl in rags, a woman that looked about thirty or so and had probably never been all that pretty, which had turned into an almost scary look with all the weight loss, and two men. Rather a man and a boy that held a piece of wood. A cricket paddle Jake thought.
"Has this area been cleaned of the undead yet?" He tried to make it clear, but they all stared and looked at him as Jake turned to see where he was. It was a small town, or village, which looked old.
He tried again.
"Are there still zombies?"
Looking at him like he was a madman the guy that had suggested killing him, the older one that was probably pushing fifty, but who looked rangy and hard, grunted.
"Aye..."
"OK, this capsule, it has nanos in it. It will clear about three hundred square miles and make it so that the undead are just dead again. I know it seems strange... it will take about three hours to work." He didn't wait, squeezing it and holding it up to the slight breeze. His hands shook and it felt really hard to break the thing open at all.
"As to my wounds, that thing, the tall white one, I don't think it was a new kind of zombie. That was a person. A crazy person that's taken to eating flesh and... fuck... I don't know how it works. Anyway, you still have to deal with those, but none of you will turn now and this area will be safe from the animated dead."
There was a gasp from the crowd, which was an odd thing, since he hadn't realized others had come out. It wasn't much of a group, about ten people, including the ones he'd already noticed. A female voice from the back sounded hopeful though.
"Like on the radio? That's real? We all thought it was just someone telling stories to keep everyone going. Once the military in the U.S. started claiming that people could teleport and that they'd be coming around eventually to shut the zombies down, well, it's a good thing, but doesn't sound very real. Are you supposed to be one of those type then? You don't have orange or yellow eyes. Just brown." She sounded a little sad about it all, like she thought he was insane too and was humoring him.
"Nope. Sorry, I just got left by one of them in the forest. A... I don't know how long ago. I'm Jake. Um, were am I? That got a low murmur, but an answer too, from the formerly screaming girl.
"Canada. You walked out of the forest? Alone? No wonder you look half dead. Thank you. For saving me. That thing... I don't know what it was. I had to go and try to collect some wood for the fire, it's dangerous, but I can outrun the dead ones, I ran track in school." She sounded shifty about it, like she was hiding something, everyone else looked away a little as if it were a secret.
"And now you can run faster?" He waited for a second, not caring, the girl finally nodding a little.
"Yeah, longer too."
"Cool." Jake stood then, tired and not caring what these people did to him anymore. Finally the gruff guy with the good idea of killing him before he turned went inside, pulling him along.
"We don't have food to share, wood is dangerous to get and you might be insane, but if you aren't and you don't start turning on us, well, I guess I can let you use the radio to try and call for help. After that though, even if you can't reach anyone, you'll have to go. We really can't risk having a stranger here, even after you saved Rene like that. Brave. Anyway, in here." He walked away, getting Jake to follow numbly.
It made sense that they'd feel that way. When you didn't have anything, it could be hard to share.
The old ham radio they had looked like a relic of the cold war, but actually worked. The man just tuned the thing to the military broadcast station, the one that the information went out on daily and handed Jake a microphone.
"Go ahead. They normally have someone listening. They get mad if you use this frequency to chat though, so be ready to get yelled at." The man smiled, as if trying to show how little he actually cared about that.
It was hard
to think of what to say, so he didn't, just letting words com e out of his mouth.
"This is Jake. From the House. I'm... in the town of..." He looked around, the man behind him not moving, but filling the words in for him.
"Darrow, Manitoba."
"Right, I'm in Darrow, Manitoba. Um, I could use some help." He repeated it twice before someone got on the line.
"Sir? Jake? We're sending a message now, stay were you are, we have help incoming. Are you in immediate danger?" The man didn't sound young, but his voice wasn't rough either.
"No. I'm good for a short period of time here. Can you get someone to bring a food assembler? These people are starving." Everyone was. It was winter.
"I'll... put in the request sir. We have a team coming for you, they should arrive in... The man from the Travelers said it will be about an hour. He knows someone familiar with the area."
They got off the line then, since this particular radio was powered by a hand cranked generator and Jake didn't have the energy to replace the electricity he'd used. The office chair under him was nice and soft, but the room was cold, nearly the same temperature that it was outside. It made a squeaking sound as he shifted.
"It's alright if I hang out for an hour, right?" The man hadn't seemed like he'd be good with that before, but he nodded, eyes crinkling suddenly, as if fighting a laugh.
"I'll be dipped. You actually are someone? You don't look like much. Kind of like a hobo to tell the truth."
Jake nodded, not able to laugh along. It was just a fact after all.
No one talked to him, just hiding inside, but an hour later, less than that in fact, about fifty people popped into the town center, most of them with weapons, only three of them people he recognized at all.
