Arkadium Rising

by Glen Krisch

  "That's understandable." He knew he was almost out of food, but he couldn't imagine digging through the remains of this destroyed town. He'd seen the dead woman hanging out from her car; there could only be others. Lots of others. "Well, if you're ready, I'm ready. Let's hit the road."

  Jason reached out and Kat jumped into his arms. He placed her in her little nest on top of his pack.

  "And you think she's not your pet?" Leah laughed.

  After a mile or so of unbroken cornfields traversing the gently undulating hillside, Jason noticed a dark lump on the side of the road just up ahead.

  "Is that a deer?"

  "I… I don't think so," Leah replied.

  When they got nearer Jason realized the bulky shape was a person. His senses went on high alert and he removed his .38 from his belt.

  "Do you have a weapon?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "Like I said, not much time to pack."

  "I don't like the look of this."

  She nodded. "Me neither. I think it's one of them."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Anaki."

  Jason eyed the surrounding fields as he closed within a few feet of the body. He didn't know what kind of trap this could be, but he figured he couldn't be too careful. He saw no movement, but he didn't put his gun away. The body was sprawled flat on its back, its legs outstretched, while its hands were reaching for its neck. Blood had trailed away from the body and dried in dark pools on the roadside gravel. Clean white bone showed in the ruins of the killing wound.

  "What the hell is he wearing?"

  The Anaki warrior wore a form-fitting helmet that looked similar to a swimmer's cap, but was evidently made of lightweight metal with a matte finish. A mask extended from the helmet's brow ridge, attached by a single hinge that allowed it to flip open or closed. The corpse had been little more than a boy. Patchy peach fuzz covered his cheeks and chin. Jason touched the mask with the nose of his gun and closed it to block out the corpse's blank stare. The mask was a skull's face. The eye sockets were a black mesh. The image was frightening, the stuff of nightmares.

  "I think it's armor," Leah said. "Look at his chest, his legs, too."

  He didn't want to, but Jason tapped his knuckles against what looked to be a bulletproof breastplate. Sections of armor overlapped down the boy's abdomen, as well as his arms and legs.

  "I bet that's Kevlar or something similar," he said. "I don't see any weapons."

  "Me neither, but I did back at Rose Ridge. Most of them had these long staffs with a hooked blade on one end. I also saw guns, different kinds of blades and axes… one of the freaks actually carried a frickin' Samurai sword. Can you believe that?"

  Jason sighed and stood to his full height. "I'm pretty sure I could believe anything at this point."

  "I bet they stripped him of anything useful. The armor, it looks personalized, like it would fit him and no one else."

  "I think you're right.

  There were few gaps in the armor, but Jason did notice blood had welled up low on his belly and trailed all the way down to his feet. The coloration made him think it was older than his mortal wound.

  "Why…? Do you think they killed him?" Leah asked. "The other Anaki, I mean."

  "I don't know who else would've. Maybe he was injured and they put him down. See this older blood?"

  "Euthanasia?"

  "Yeah, or he could've done something, I don't know, against their rules or codes. Whatever happened, he's dead."

  Leah stepped away from the corpse. She placed her hands on her hips and looked around them in every direction. "So that means they're up ahead. The Anaki horde, or whatever you want to call them."

  "Yeah. We probably shouldn't go that way."

  "I'm not going back there… I can't."

  Jason paced back and forth. "You know, before this hill I saw an access road. It's all overgrown, but it has to lead somewhere."

  "Anywhere sounds better than here."

  3.

  A gentle breeze blew through the cornfields looming on either side of them, surrounding them in a ceaseless hum like dead radio static.

  "So this is it?" Leah asked.

  Double wheel ruts cut through the heavy grass lining the road. A seven- foot-wide turf path curved into the cornfield and out of sight.

  "I know it doesn't look like much," he admitted. "I'm guessing this is an access road for a farmer to get his tractor around to different fields."

  "Yeah, I can see that." She began walking down the access road. Jason followed, hoping they were making the right decision. "Let's see what we're getting ourselves into."

  A gate blocked their path not more than thirty feet in. Jason looked back and could no longer see the blacktop.

  "Now what?" he said, thinking out loud.

  Before they could discuss the matter, Leah scooted around the gate. Jason tried to follow and his pack got caught. Leah kept walking.

  "Hey, it's a farm!" she called out.

  "Wait, hold on a minute!" Panic surged through him and he yanked the bottom corner of his pack until it ripped. But at least it was free. He quickened his pace and caught up to her. The cornfield ended and an old farmyard opened up—a dozen or so evenly spaced fruit trees, a few raised vegetable gardens, an honest-to-goodness chicken coop in the far corner by a solid-looking red barn, and as Jason glanced back toward Leah, an old white farmhouse with a wide, welcoming porch. A porch swing shifted back and forth in the wind, creaking on its chain.

  Leah turned back toward him. "Look! It's not damaged!" She kept walking backward toward the house, as if it were drawing her closer with some invisible force. Her grin was infectious and he found himself hurrying toward her, his own smile widening. "The Anaki haven't been this way!"

  The sound of a pump-action shotgun stopped both of them in their tracks.

  "Just hold on a minute," a voice called out from near the barn.

  Chapter 23

  1.

  "Keep your hands where I can see them." A fortyish-looking man nervously panned a shotgun from Leah to Jason and back again. His khaki pants were dirty at the knees and his blue denim work shirt had either grease or some kind of oil staining the chest. He was lanky, but not strong. He looked like he had been laboring at some kind of work, yet he didn't look like exertion was familiar to him. "Okay, good. Now you," he said to Jason, "come up here by the two of us."

  The man pointed the shotgun at Leah and waited for Jason to bridge the gap.

  "We didn't mean anything by trespassing," Leah said. "It's just there was no clear road. The Anaki, they destroyed the next town down the road, and we were hoping to avoid running into them."

  "The Anna-what, destroyed the… what did you say? The next town?"

  "This is going to sound crazy," Jason said, "but there are these warrior-type guys dressed in armor and armed to the teeth. They just wiped out the town about a few miles down the road. Called Rose Ridge, I believe."

  "Rose Ridge, it's gone? What about the people?" The shotgun dipped as he pondered this bit of news and the barrel now pointed toward the ground. Jason thought about trying to overpower the guy, but he didn't look like a threat. He hoped the stranger thought the same about them.

  "We didn't stick around, but it didn't look good. Not at all."

  The man went over to the porch steps and sat down. "It's just one thing after another, isn't it?" He rested the shotgun against the porch railing.

  His face was a delicate pink and clean-shaven, which Jason took for a good sign. If a man took the time to keep up his appearance, it meant he was trying to carry on with civilized life. He wondered about his own haggard, bedraggled appearance. Besides his unkempt beard and filthy clothes, his body was a network of bruises in every painful shade of healing. He was a mess, and if appearances were an indication of desiring civilization, he was failing in that regard.

  "Just one thing after another after another," the man repeated.

  "Listen..." Leah sat down next to him. She touche
d his arm and he finally looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name."

  "Mike Dunkirk."

  "Nice to meet you, Mike. I'm Leah, and that's Jason. We're just trying to find some place where everyone hasn't lost their minds. You know what I mean?" She had a calming, sensible voice. She could say just about anything and it would sound believable.

  "Good luck with that." Mike laughed cynically.

  "We have to try. There has to be somewhere safe."

  "Well, if there is such a place, I'm guessing St. Louis might be a good place to start. Maybe, Quincy or Springfield. I don't know."

  "I'd say St. Louis. I know the area, but it's still quite a ways off any way you look at it. We really got stranded in the middle of nowhere, didn't we?" Jason said.

  "I'd say that Dalton County isn't the best place to seek out others during the apocalypse," Mike said and laughed again. No matter how grim he found the situation, he also couldn't help laughing; it was unnerving, but Jason supposed it was better than participating in the depravities he'd witnessed so far. Some people used laughter as a coping mechanism.

  "So, is that what this is?" Something caught in Leah's throat. She tried to clear it before continuing. "This is the apocalypse?"

  "You know, I shouldn't have said that," Mike said. "I don't know what's going on. I don't think anyone does. But we're alive, right? Isn't the apocalypse when everyone's dead?"

  "The day isn't over." She stared into Mike's eyes until he looked down at his hands.

  "I know you don't know me, but I'm going to lay it all on the line. I'm all on board with trying to find others. Whatever is going on, I want to know. This sitting around crap is killing my nerves." Mike stood, his mood turning hopeful. "Do you think I could tag along?"

  "Sure, if you have some good hiking shoes," Leah said.

  Mike clapped his hands together and then snapped his fingers. "I've got a better idea!" He turned toward the barn. "Why don't we just drive?"

  "How about we fly?" Leah played along. "That'd be even better. And you know what? Let's take a private jet!"

  Mike chuckled. He waved for them to follow him and then headed for the barn.

  "What now?" Jason asked, but Leah only shrugged before hurrying to catch up to Mike. Jason didn't have a good feeling about this. They didn't know this Mike guy. He could be a killer or member of some twisted group like the Anaki. Jason wouldn't admit it out loud, but he also felt a certain amount of jealousy and an even stronger desire to protect Leah.

  Jason eased his pack from his shoulders. Kat meowed angrily and hopped over to sit on the porch railing. Obviously, he'd upset her nap schedule, which was how she spent most of her day. Jason jogged to catch up to Mike and Leah. Mike had already disappeared inside the barn. As Jason rounded the side of the farmhouse, he noticed a driveway leading from the front of the house out toward the street. Rows of old maple trees lined the driveway.

  "Leah, wait," he said too quietly to even warrant a reaction from her.

  When Leah slipped from view into the barn, Jason removed his .38 from his waistband. He felt like a kid pretending to play detective as he leveled the gun with both hands.

  "Oh my God!" Leah cried.

  Jason broke into a sprint, and when he raced inside after her, he nearly ran into the fat, rounded bumper of an antique baby blue pickup truck. "Whoa… What the hell?"

  Leah held her hands clasped in front of her and bounced on her tippy-toes in excitement.

  "Sorry about that, Jason." Mike stepped from the running board inside the truck's cab. He closed the door and rolled down the window. "You must've thought I was some kind of cannibal killer or something."

  "No… it's just that… never mind." What the heck was he doing? Running around with his stolen Taurus .38 drawn and ready to shoot? He didn't recognize himself anymore. "What's going on?"

  "You're not playing the worst joke ever are you?" Leah said, still bouncing. "This thing actually works?"

  "In a fashion." Mike turned the ignition key, and miraculously, something happened. The engine tried its damnedest to turn over. It sputtered and spit gouts of black exhaust from the dual pipes at the rear of its boxy truck bed, sending chaff dust dancing across the barn's dirt floor. Mike stepped on the gas and the engine wanted to roar to life, but something wasn't quite right. "Son of a bitch. Almost had it!"

  Mike pulled the keys from the ignition and hopped out of the cab.

  "I don't get it. Since the explosion I haven't heard anything but dead clicks when I've tried to start a car," Jason said.

  "Me too," Mike replied. "My Sebring, which has never been in the shop outside an oil change or tune-up, is dead as a doornail out front. Been that way since that explosion. But my Uncle Vince's Ford '40? I didn't think about trying to start it until this morning, but she's damn near there, isn't she? It must be something to do with the technology. These old trucks are all engine. No computer anything. Next to no electrical."

  "I hadn't thought of that," Jason said. "So the explosion fried circuit boards, or whatever, but older technology still works?" He wanted to mention Leah's cell phone, and also the drone he'd seen, but the timing didn't feel right. He just didn't know Mike well enough to trust him yet.

  "That's what I'm thinking. I don't know much about engines. Do you?"

  "No. Unfortunately." Jason turned to Leah. "How about you?"

  "Me? You're so funny. Yeah… no," Leah said. "What about your Uncle Vince?"

  "Sure, he's right over there." Mike pointed to a small patch of cleared land surrounded by fruit trees and enclosed by a low wrought iron fence. "He's the second to the end, first row."

  "I'm so sorry." Leah's face flushed with embarrassment. "Was it… sudden?"

  "Don't worry yourself. It was sudden all right, but back in 1977. Uncle Vince drank himself to an early grave. Tell you the truth, the only thing I remember about him was sitting in the passenger seat of this old Ford and having him rev the engine," he paused, smiling fondly. "Back then Uncle Vince had it running smooth, but it was a smooth growl. Like an exotic animal."

  "Is there anyone else around?" Jason asked.

  "Well, there's only one other person at the farm. My Aunt Cora, my mom's sister—she's inside baking fresh bread over the woodstove from her childhood, if you can believe it. She's the reason I'm out at the old farmhouse to begin with since there's no one else to check in on her. There's my aunt and uncle's son, Malcom, but he hasn't been around the last year or so. He used to look in on Aunt Cora, but I think he'd come out just as much to fiddle with Vincent's old Ford, tell you the truth."

  "What changed?" Leah asked before Jason could stop her. He could see cracks in Mike's expression with barely concealed pain just beneath the surface.

  "His wife left him, taking the kids out to live in Boston with her new husband. Malcom couldn't stand being separated from his family, so he relocated out that way." Mike blinked as his eyes flirted with tears. "I can't blame him. Not one bit. I have three kids of my own. And right now…" He couldn't hold it back any longer. No amount of blinking would hold his tears at bay.

  Jason looked from Mike to Leah, who looked almost as upset as Mike. She had an innate compassion that was hard to deny.

  "And right now they're back in O'Fallon with their mom and I don't know if they're alive or dead." He sniffled and then continued. "Suzette, she's strong and stubborn. That's why we're always fighting. But she'll keep them safe."

  "I'm sure she will." Leah tried hard to bring some hope to her voice. "Like a lioness protecting her cubs."

  "Right. You're right." Mike looked up, managed a wan smile. "That's my Suzette—a lioness."

  "Your Aunt Cora works the farm herself?" Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

  "She's had help with the crops since Vince passed away, and the last decade or so her helper's been this nice Polish guy named Jacek. He called me a week before the power went out, saying that Cora's starting to forget things. That she enters a room and can't remembe
r why. She sits down thinking it's breakfast time, but the sun's actually setting. That sort of thing. I've been dreading that call, I tell you, but I knew it was coming. Last Christmas she kept calling me Vinny, and once she even pinched my butt."

  Mike laughed sadly, and Jason broke into a smile.

  When Mike just stared off for a while, Leah said, "So you came out to check on her?"

  "Yeah, and I pretty much found what I expected. It's time Aunt Cora had someone looking after her. I've tried to bring it up more than once, that she needs to have around-the-clock care, but she won't hear anything about it. She just thinks I want to ship her to a nursing home and sell the farm and steal her money. But all that's gone out the window, right? I doubt there are any nursing homes."

  "Everything's changed," Jason agreed.

  "All but Cora's senility," Mike said. "That's not going away. Just getting worse."

  "But if you can get this truck started, you might be able to find her care."

  "True," Mike said. "I've tinkered with the engine a bit. I was able to get a few gallons of fresh gas into her. With the way she almost turns over, I think it might be the plugs."

  "Do you have any replacements?" Jason said. "Maybe between the two of us we can figure it out. If we can get the old truck working, and get your Aunt Cora the care she needs, then you can set off for your family."

  "You're serious?" Mike asked. "You'd do all that for me?"

  "Mike, it's not so much for you, but for my blistered feet."

  Even though Leah stood in the periphery, Jason could feel a glowing happiness radiating from her direction.

  "Let's get started!"

  2.

  Jason stood just inside the barn and marveled at the quiet normalcy of the farm. Sure, he didn't hear a tractor in the field, but the simple sounds persisted. The wind rasping through the looming cornfields. The nervous clucks coming from the thin grassy patch outside the chicken coop. The squeak of the porch swing like a slow, steady heartbeat. These sounds were timeless, unbowed by the changes at hand. For the first time since Marcus's supposed "divine day of election," Jason felt tangible hope for the future.