by P. S. Power
Yawning, Jake just nodded to the boy, enjoying the room more now that it was warming a bit. The bodies on the floor smelled though, so he got up and started pulling them outside, over towards the barn, trying to stay watchful the whole time. It would have taken a lot more time, but Vickie and Tipper followed, pulling the remaining dead men and Dave came, struggling a little with the woman, holding her under the arms and walking backwards, which was what Jake had to do too. Vickie and Tip had just grabbed an arm and walked as if dragging a ten pound sack over the snow.
Show offs.
Jake got the machete he kept for the purpose and beheaded the bodies before they could freeze. He didn’t want to take a chance of them turning now. Before he went in he started a small fire under the water heater. More to the point, he built a little tee-pee of wood splinters and went in to get a few coals from the fire and used those to start the thing. It wouldn’t be ready that night, but if he kept the fire going, he might have warm water in the morning. He wanted to wash so badly his skin crawled, but until he had at least mildly warm water it would be a bad idea. He’d washed up earlier, so it was just handling the bodies now that did it.
With that done Jake looked at the scene that had developed when he was gone. Half the people had left, but more had come, Daryl and Nate in particular. Mainly because those were the two that he recognized even in the dark. They both stood at the table, talking to the new shape shifters. It was fine, of course. Even a good thing. Nate arranged living arrangements with the “boys” offering to take them in, just on Daryl’s say so. He was a good enough person, and even a hard worker, which had surprised Jake at first. After all the shifters tended to seek protection by hiding as children or weak people that wouldn’t make great targets in a given situation. Or at least Daryl had when they’d found him at the police compound, masquerading as a young boy, so that he wouldn’t be raped or killed by the chief for being a threat to his power.
Kind of like what these other two had done.
That didn’t stop the guy from pulling out the stops work wise once he was at the House though. He didn’t fight, and had let them know that on guard duty he couldn’t do a lot more than sound an alarm, but he spent most of his nights with Molly, making ammunition for them all and helped teach classes for the kids, adding fascination lessons. Information about things in the world that Jake had never even heard of. If he ever got a chance he fully intended to take those as well. Or maybe get the man to come and chat with him while he worked at the forge? There was just so much that needed to be done.
Of course that was providing he lived.
None of that mattered though, not at the moment. There was only one thing on Jake’s mind as he stood, legs aching, neck sore from the lines of scratches and from having wrenched it around a bit somehow in the fight and right hand still throbbing just a little, though that was less now, with all the other pain. No the important thing was that they were talking right next to his bed, which was pushed against the far wall, put there for warmth, since the main woodstove was in the room. He was exhausted.
Really, he was tired of living.
Just giving up wasn’t an option though, not for him. So he needed to sleep, somehow manage not to become a zombie, and then get to work on everything else that was needed. The cannibal attack would be coming soon, if what Heather had said was right, and crazy or not she was good at being correct about most things. They’d need more for that than just ammo, no doubt. The girl had totally skipped a warning about Holsom coming back, or the waves of undead coming at them, but from day one she’d warned about the cannibals. Meaning she probably hadn’t even seen Holsom as a real threat.
So there was that.
“I don’t want to be rude guys, but… You know, I’m supposed to be in quarantine here, it kind of defeats the purpose if everyone just stands around my kitchen chatting, doesn’t it? Plus, if I don’t get the fire closed up and climb in bed soon, I’m just going to fall down. I don’t need the extra bruises, so…” It really was rude of him no doubt, but he didn’t know how else to phrase it. He needed them gone for more reasons than he could list off.
A dark form from the back of the room stepped forward and chuckle gently. Morris again, Jake thought. He got it for certain as soon as the man spoke.
“I’ll take everyone back now. Come, gather around, hold hands, just like before.” He sounded calm and happy enough. The Teleporters were good at that. Out of all the groups they seemed to have the best sense of humor.
Or at least the one that was closest to his own. It kind of shocked him that anyone had one of those left at all, but it was a good thing. A very good thing. It meant that there was hope, didn’t it? If they could still laugh, they could, maybe, learn to live again.
The others all stood, in three lines, holding hands, arms and in a couple places shoulders. The group was close together. Cozy. Like everyone here were friends even.
One of the new shifters, Greg from the girl’s voice, spoke excitedly.
“I’ve never teleported before.”
Jake grinned into the very dark room, “it’s cool, just make sure to close your eyes. Otherwise you’ll lose your dinner.”
That was a real enough thing. Cam had warned him about it, but being all tough, he figured it wouldn’t affect him. He’d been wrong. Even the Teleporters closed their eyes for that reason. In less than ten seconds they were all gone. It left an eerie silence in its wake, the small movements, the whispers of breath, the heat rising from bodies and the scents coming off of people faded into nothing as he stood, watching. He couldn’t track the leaving at all, they just weren’t there anymore.
It was really useful. Too bad it wasn’t something he could learn himself.
As fast as he could get himself to do it in the near dark, Jake closed the front door, propping a chair under the handle to keep it closed, the splintered frame letting a cold draft in. He stuffed it with a dish towel, not having time for better repair or insulation. Not in the dark. Then he closed the fire, arranged his weapons by his bed, the forty-five tucked under the mattress, handle sticking out, on his right side, the nine in its holster resting by his head.
Then, as safe as he could be for the time being, he fell asleep.
For once he didn’t even dream. Not that he remembered. It was peaceful. Warm and pleasant.
And here he’d been thinking earlier that food was the only good thing left in the world. Silly him.
Sleep came and then went, the morning light hitting his face, forcing him up earlier than he needed, but that was fine, since it meant he could get the fires around again, and, if none of the pipes had burst from the cold, possibly get a warm bath and wash his clothing. He kept himself busy for most of the morning on little domestic tasks. Making food, setting a fire in the living room so that it could warm up too and tidying up all the rooms. That involved scrubbing the kitchen a couple of times. In Billi’s room as he made the bed, he found a crude knife, an old kitchen blade with rope wrapped around the handle, hidden under her mattress. That was probably to kill him with, in case he turned out to be other than what he seemed.
Fair enough. Jake would have to get her something better though. It probably would work, but it didn’t really have a point on it, and wasn’t very sharp. Maybe he could try that, when he went back to the House in a few days to work on the new saw blades he wanted? It was odd, since he’d made axes, tongs and gears, saws and a single rasp that didn’t work very well, and some cylinders for the air powered weapons he wanted to make, but he’d never made a simple knife. That was probably blacksmithing one-oh-one. That and nails.
In the afternoon, before the light left for the day, Jake went upstairs and started working on the rooms there, arranging them with fresh pillows and bedding. He had a lot, stolen from in town. Robin wanted to come and stay, and they had the space, if it was kept warm enough. The rooms were tiny compared to the ones at the House, but they had privacy, and the place just wasn’t as big at all, meaning easier to heat. It took until it was
time to make his evening stew, but he got a lot done.
It looked nice enough, he thought. Ready for guests even.
Nothing happened for the next few days, and he ran out of things to do around the place. He fixed the front door, and while it wasn’t great looking work, having all been done with hand tools and wood that didn’t match in color at all, it was strong again. That was the important part. He could paint later. If he could find some.
By day four he knew that he wasn’t going to be changing at all. The scratches didn’t even hurt anymore. That he had to get attacked by zombies, and run away, to just get a little rest was insane, but he did feel a lot better. Physically.
Mentally, well, he was mainly getting by, somehow. When he thought of Rachel, what had happened to her, he cried. Every time. It was just so… Jake didn’t have a word for it. He knew a lot of women had been treated badly, and that hurt too. When he found out about Tim, well, letting the women beat him to death hadn’t been a joke, had it? The thing with Rachel though was worse. For him. Even though she’d never been his, Jake had loved her.
He still did.
It was just pain though, an ache deep in his soul that made him yearn to join her in death, so he could hold her again in some other place. That couldn’t be though. He didn’t even know that there was an afterlife, of course, no one really could. That wasn’t it though. The fact was, Rachel had never loved him back. They’d just been friends in her mind, and when she found out he felt that way, she’d left him. Forever.
For Derrick Freaking Holsom.
That was enough to make him want to kill someone again, but everyone involved was dead. Over and again he reminded himself of that. Oh, he entertained the idea of blaming Becky for a while, and Sue, maybe even Robin, since they’d been there and hadn’t fought to protect his friend, but how would they have done that? Take on dozens of armed men bare handed? Sue was something different, Jake guessed, not just a regular human, but also about as close to useless as anyone at the House in real world things. Really good with computers, and smart, but so far that hadn’t translated to very competent. So unless she had super secret combat powers, even thinking that she should have done anything was stupid of him.
So there was just nothing to be done. Except work and try not to think about things he couldn’t do anything about now.
Just as he made breakfast on the fifth morning they came for him. It wasn’t just a few people from the House, but an armed group of about twenty people teleporting in. All at once. People he didn’t recognized for the most part, except for Tipper and Vickie. They had a mixed group with them, but it was mainly made up of strong looking white women and slightly shorter, very muscular men and women with darker skin. Another warrior type? Jake hadn’t asked, and really didn’t intend to. Cam showed up after two minutes or so, with all five of the girls that lived with him now. Women, Jake corrected. Even Robin, at sixteen, wasn’t a kid anymore. That probably didn’t exist. Childhood had ended for even the youngest, a long time before.
He took a few seconds to observe everything. The warriors had fanned out with only a few hand motions to explain what was going on and took positions all around his little space, far enough out he couldn’t see them anymore. They all wore white, to match the snow. It looked like an official uniform even, things made using machines, not hand sewn. Even the big boots on their feet were white. Well-rounded and not having laces, they looked warm. He should look into those for other people, if they had any to spare.
His boots worked, the police issue ones he’d stolen from a corpse, but they weren’t that great in the snow. They leaked a little and weren’t insulated.
In the center of the space, looking chilly, stood the women that lived there, most of them were still tiny, so thin it almost hurt to see them, Robin looked huge by comparison and she would have been considered svelt Back Before. Kara looked miserable, as if she was about to get sick, but everyone else smiled when they saw him. No one called out, but then, that would be stupid and he’d have to shoot them, so Jake decided not to take the lack of enthusiasm personally.
He waved for them to all come in, so they could talk and set up properly. It was cloudy out, but it looked like snow was coming soon, so he wanted to get everything as ready as possible. More wood inside, frozen meat from the barn and all that.
When they got inside Robin hit him with a hug.
“You aren’t dead. Everyone was really worried you know. Except Heather, she just kept shaking her head and saying you were there when the cannibals came. So you weren’t turning now.” The move was warm and nice enough, but Jake moved back after about ten seconds. What was the point of getting close to the girl? She’d only die, or end up with someone else, anyway. It was better for him just to stand back and work.
Less pain that way.
No one else moved in for a hug, which was normal, though instead of just moving off to do things, everyone stood around him in the kitchen, like they were waiting for something. Maybe they just didn’t know what to do, or… He didn’t know. Really, Jake didn’t care, did he? Oh, he didn’t want anyone hurt, but if they wanted to stand there all day, that was fine. Or go back to the House or really anything else, as long as it didn’t get everyone killed.
“So…” It wasn’t followed by anything, not at first, because another body pushed in through the door, a man, one with brown hair. No, the hair had a lot of red too. Morris, Jake thought at first, but it wasn’t, just another guy that looked a bit like him. A little like Cam too.
“Um, Ba-Dehist? I’m supposed to arrange your travel schedule with you? I brought notes, a lot of people have requested you come to visit, though some would like to visit here, if that’s acceptable?” There was a blue spiral notebook in his hand, a ballpoint pen tucked into the curly wire. It was the same way Jake carried his back in high school.
A million years ago, it felt like.
“What?” Jake said, knowing it was brilliant sounding. The white outfitted man in front of him just nodded and smiled, as if it was some wonderful thing, his coming and telling Jake about travel plans.
“Yes, it’s very exciting for everyone. At first several of the groups were planning parties, or parades in your honor, but Morris put his foot down and told them it was naked dancing girls or nothing.” The orange eyes man didn’t smile or anything, but after a bit looked at Cam.
“He really said that too. I know he was joking, but don’t be shocked if a few of the ladies aren’t at least scantily clad. At least in the Southern Hemisphere. It’s pretty cold up here this time of year.” Without waiting the man sat down at the kitchen table and opened the notebook, rolling off names of places and people that Jake didn’t care about faster than Jake could forget them.
It left a residue of information in his mind that he didn’t want, so he smiled wryly.
“Um, I don’t want to be a jerk about all this, but I have work to do. Here and at the House. That pretty much has me traveling for days at a time.” Pointing at the list that had to have thirty locations on it, Jake shrugged.
That got the man to shake his head. He wasn’t old, about Jake’s own twenty-four or so, at a guess.
“No… Months. A lot of these are for extended stays. For instance the Bawdri have you down to stay with them for two weeks, along with Princess Samantha. The Tegalla want you for as long as you’re willing to stay with them.”
Cam didn’t let the guy get to the next group, glaring at him instead.
“Telepaths Morten. We call them telepaths now. They’re on our side, Jake said, and Morris did too., so we shouldn’t call them names.” She blushed, but the man didn’t take her to task for barking at him and acting bossy or anything, he just looked at her and corrected himself.
“Apologies. I misspoke. Yes, the Telepaths want you, the Valkyries too, but they’re feeling shy after that girl nearly got you killed. Kind of being rough on her about it from what I understand. Most of the other groups are being easier on them than they are on themselve
s and some of them were actually calling for her to be put to death. Not after you told them not to, but before that, I heard?” He looked at Cam again, and then oddly, Robin, who grunted softly.
“Yeah. Talked about a screwed up thing. It wasn’t like she was trying to get you killed, right? Vickie said that they have her on suicide watch, even though you ordered her not to kill herself. That should be enough, according to most of the visitors we’ve had, you just telling her not too, but she’s in a bad way. The Odina too. Did you know that she has fifteen daughters? She doesn’t look old enough for it, but apparently that’s a rule for the Valkyries leaders. They have to have as many kids as possible, when not at war.
Anyway, you might want to talk to that girl again. Show her that you’re alive and not hating on her too much. It might help.”
Sighing Jake stood up.
“Right, that first then. But um, Morten is it?” Jake pointed, not at the man, but the notebook in front of him on the table. It was dark brown wood and needed a tablecloth, but he’d kept it clean. It took some scrubbing to get the spots of blood off of it. The whole room had. The floor was still darkly stained in places.
A lot of his life seemed to be about cleaning up blood now. It almost never came all the way up though. Everything he owned to wear was stained with it. He’d need new clothing soon.
“That schedule is probably going to have to change. I mean, since I’m not going to most of those places at all, and not staying away from my actual work that long. I guess some day trips might work, occasionally, but seriously, this looks like some kind of tour schedule set up and I haven’t practice nearly enough for that. I don’t even have any roadies.” He was trying to make a joke, but Billi and Kara both just stared at him, and George, ever practical, started working on lunch, a stew made in the large pot, but it would take a while to get ready, so even as early as it was, it made for a good idea.
Kara coughed.
“I heard you sing. I never would have thought you could do that.” She looked down at the table. “That last song you sang, it made me cry. I didn’t think I could do that over something like a song, not anymore. I hear you singing it in my sleep. When the nightmares try to get me. It helps.”
