Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  It made good cover for him, so he just walked over quickly and shot the man in the head. Then one by one the others, just through the mesh of the cages. It was much easier than fighting them out in the open, which was the obvious plan for them all otherwise. Roberts was last.

  “Hey, can you hear me? Was what he said about the vaccine true?”

  The man rallied after a minute, still sunk down in the middle of his cage, he nodded, and then growled.

  “Argh! Yes, sorry, God this hurts. Yeah, vaccine, if you have it and get bit, you turn into a vampire. Not a real one, just a fast zombie. The 'B' form of the disease they call it on the radio.”

  “How many people have had the shot?” Jake had to ask, didn't he?

  The man shook his head and after a second it became clear that he meant to clear it, not say no about anything.

  “They promised a million doses, but I think they stopped, half that in the U.S.? The government guy didn't know a lot about it, other than what the effects were. Too late, the CDC men got here first. Three months in.” He groaned again and Jake stood.

  “Oh, well, um, thanks. Hey, have you seen any pickle jars around here?” It was worth asking right?

  “Back room, on the right, Lids along the far wall. Argh! Listen... kill me already will you?”

  Jake didn't ask any more questions. Just shot through the bars, the cage being stronger than all but two others. It took three bullets to make sure the man wouldn't come back. He'd been helpful after all. Unless he lied. But why would he bother?

  The jars were where he'd claimed they'd be. Lids too. So maybe Roberts was an OK guy after all, in the end. There were a lot of them. Way more than he could take in one trip. In large boxes of six too, so they'd be easy to stack, meaning he could take more than if they were loose and vulnerable.

  As he made his way back out of town, pulling the fully loaded wagon, filled with intact boxes of large jars and lids, he felt decent about himself. At least they knew where those new things had come from and that it was an actual attack. They were the resistance now? To what? The police department of Westwood's criminal empire? Zombies?

  Really, he personally preferred the term “freedom fighter”, if it was all the same.

  That was one thing that sucked about the zombies, you couldn't even talk to yourself like a crazy person anymore. Those people were all gone, because they couldn't manage to keep quiet. A sassy internal monologue would have to do from now on. It just wasn't the same though.

  He made it in before dark, almost, the house was black already, so everyone but the guards would be in bed. Jake rapped the code out on the door carefully, softly so as to not scare the people upstairs. He just wanted in after all, not to startle anyone. The knock came back and a soft familiar voice came through the door.

  “Who's there?” Tipper said.

  “Jake. I'm alone.”

  The door opened and the shadow stepped out of the way. If she gave him a look, he couldn't tell, from the other side of the room there was a chuckle.

  “Get what you went to find?” Dave asked, his voice pleasant.

  Jake smiled and spoke calmly, “A full load of jars and lids for them, large ones. I also found the source of the super-zombies, and took out the next attack. What did you do with your day?”

  Tipper whispered at him her voice hard.

  “Funny... I'm sitting here waiting for you all day and you come back saying crap like that? You were supposed to take a team, not go off on your own like a fool. Do you think this is a joke? I was worried sick.”

  Taking a deep breath, Jake stopped himself from shooting her. She didn't have a right to be worried about him, did she? But that didn't mean she wouldn't play at it. The truth was he did better on his own. Not all the time, maybe, but better without her at least.

  “Tip, two things, first, I'm not talking to you other than to say this, and second, no shit, I really found the source of the super-zombies, and took out the next attack. I had to in order to get the jars. I'll tell Nate in the morning and he can tell you if he thinks you can be trusted with the information.” OK, it wasn't nice and didn't sound happy, but what did she expect?

  Happiness and roses?

  Besides she was riding him, and had to know that would push buttons right now. It was like she was trying to for some reason. Maybe trying to force a fight so that she could kill him? In the dark though, if he started it, she probably wouldn't win. Dave chuckled, but lately he seemed to think everything was funny. That, or he was laughing because it was awkward.

  Carefully, slowly and as quietly as possible Jake made his way to the stairs and then up, they creaked under him slightly as he moved. He tried to hold it down, since a lot of people freaked now if they woke up to hear the sound of heavy walking. Zombies kind of stomped, so it drummed into people's minds after a while. The first room didn't have a door anymore for some reason, so he worked his way in slowly along the front wall, over to his corner, careful not to step on anyone in the dark. He slipped the forty-five under the edge, but it felt funny. It was his mattress, in the right spot, but someone slept on it. Two someones.

  What the hell? Jake didn't remember leaving anyone in his bed, and if he hadn't, there shouldn't be anyone there at all. He froze for a second, checking to make sure he had the right place and hadn't gotten confused in the dark. The wall was right there, and the corner when he reached out, so it was his space for sure.

  One of the forms stirred, then the other, a male voice spoke softly, a whisper.

  “Is someone there?” It said.

  Jake didn't really recognize it, familiar but not well known. That happened a lot to him here.

  “Jake. You're in my bed?” He really didn't want to be a dick about it, but it literally was his bed, he'd carried it from town on his own back and everything. He hadn't even been gone for a single night... It seemed a little premature to be taking his stuff and presuming he was dead wasn't it? Really it wasn't even late yet, an hour past nightfall? A few days at least would have been polite, to see if he was really not coming back.

  “Oh, hey man.” The voice said, as if that explained something.

  “Jake?” The other form said, Heather, ah, the first voice locked into place then, Randy.

  Before he could ask what the heck they were doing in his bed the girl explained, her voice soft, breathy and sleepy sounding.

  “I couldn't sleep on the floor, my back hurt, so we came in here when you didn't come back after dinner.”

  Well that made sense, just taking his stuff as if entitled to it. Rage grew inside of him. It wasn't enough to just go and sleep with some other guy after getting him to back off as if that didn't matter, as if he was the problem, but she did this now? Just to rub it in his face? Did she think being pregnant made it all right? If she didn't want to sleep on the floor why didn't she send her boyfriend into town for a mattress of their own? It wasn't that dangerous after all. Jake had done it. He took the forty-five from under the mattress and contemplated killing them both.

  Then he did it again several times, breathing a bit hard, really feeling like doing it, almost pointing and pulling the trigger. He rose up carefully and walked out of the room without a sound. Taking his bed wasn't a killing offense. Just annoying. They were going to have words about this in the morning. He went to the living room, but Tipper tried to talk to him about what was wrong.

  “All women are bitches. Selfish and entitled. Evil. And you're just like all the rest. Is that wrong enough for you? Worse, before I even get outside you'll probably rationalize it as being my problem, if you haven't already. After all, how dare I expect anyone else in the world to actually care about someone like me, right? After all, no one feels that way about me. Leave me alone.” He went out the door and sat on the porch, not waiting to see if she bothered trying to say anything.

  Oh, he wasn't being fair to her. Maybe. But then, it really didn't matter anymore did it? Jake wasn't even allowed to have his own bed here. It was like saying he just
didn't count at all.

  The night air was too cool to be comfortable and tired as he was, he couldn't do more than doze. An owl, of all things, kept hooting not too far away, every time he let his eyes close. Finally, as daylight came, he got up and got some water, cleaned up and found his other set of clothes, which were still clean and weren't even being worn by someone else yet, which would have been awkward to say the least. So he changed after a more complete scrubbing. Tired but clean. That would do, right? Better than tired and dirty at least.

  He found Nate before he looked fully awake. Nothing he had to say needed to hit the guy this early, did it? Deciding not, he smiled at the man.

  “Hey, could we get together after breakfast? I have some things from town, those jars I went for, and some other news.”

  Nate waved at him, yawned and muttered something that sounded a little like yes. Jake considered what to say for a moment and let it go. He could talk about the other stuff in a while. No need to rush. Not anymore.

  Not if he was just going to be responsible for himself and forget about these other people.

  Chapter Seven

  A zombie crawled out of the woods before he went in to eat, a meal of fruit and veggies that wouldn't have satisfied him at all a year prior, but now seemed a feast. Jake couldn't wait to get to it, but the crawler had to be dealt with.

  Something wasn't right though, the dead man was... familiar? They'd met before. Not when the man had been alive either. Blinking he realized that the half rotted face and bullet ridden old suit was indeed something he'd dealt with already. Nate's old boyfriend, Miguel. Crap. They really just didn't have a clue about things back then at all, did they?

  What were the odds? He wondered as he took the head and carted the body off, away from the property by a good ways. Thousands to one at least. The man could have crawled off in any direction from town. The head had popped off easily, and even though the mouth moved in a biting motion still, most of the teeth were gone.

  Not a huge threat.

  That meant that everyone else sat at the table eating already and stared at him when he walked in, damp from having washed up for the second time that day. After a few moments it started to make him uneasy. Jake explained softly.

  “Crawler. I took care of it.” Without wasting a bullet even.

  At the rate they were going through them, bullets, they'd have to find a huge stash of ammo to get through the winter. The problem there being that they just didn't have any left in town. People may not have grabbed mattresses, or toothbrushes for that matter, but ammo had gone fast at first. Everyone just nodded quietly and went back to eating. A few kept looking at him, but then that happened a lot, scared or angry glances when they thought he couldn't see them.

  Just another thing he wouldn't miss about the place when he left.

  The food was great. Basically berries and sour apples today. Not that filling maybe, but the flavors were incredible. He'd never gotten how good food really was before all this. Pretty much the only good thing left in the world, made more special because it wasn't always available. That, and not being too uncomfortable.

  Dave smiled at him, shook his head a little and leaned in to whisper.

  “Crawler? I hate those things. They're no fun anymore. The new zombies aren't too bad, at least they move around a little and present a challenge. Are you going to tell us all about that today?” He went into a teasing little kid mode then, playful and light. If Jake hadn't known better firsthand he might have thought that Dave was a real boy and not just a killing machine.

  “I want a story, c'mon, a story!” The stage whisper had been meant to attract attention for some reason.

  Meant to put Jake on the spot? Why? Dave didn't normally do that. They were... not friends maybe, but they worked together well. Looking around he nodded. It was a set up then. Dave had his own agendas and insights and this was probably his attempt to fix things. Well, people needed to understand that not every other dead person was going to be coming at them at sixty miles per hour.

  He explained quickly, about the vaccines, the police and their buddies being the ones to get the shots for Westwood, thank god, and how he had a load of large jars in the cart outside. Vickie looked at him, and grinned a bit maniacally. Like she was stifling laughter for some reason. After a few seconds she spoke, a strange half gleeful expression on her face.

  “You... questioned a dying man in horrible pain... about pickle jars? And he spent his dying breath telling you where to find them?” She seemed to find it funny when he nodded.

  “Yeah, probably the nicest officer left on the force. Actually helpful, too. But that's what happened. The point being, we're being targeted, others too probably. I couldn't tell if it went beyond the local police or not. Could be government involvement, might not. It shouldn't be all the zombies though. We just need to be alert and ready. And get more ammunition. Plus learn to aim better.” He glanced around the room, expecting nods, or head shakes, something.

  People just stared. Well, some glared at least, to break up the overall mood. It was good news though. They should be slightly relieved. After all, now they knew where the new problem was coming from and that it wouldn't be forever. It wasn't stage two of this thing, just a blip to annoy the good guys.

  No one said much and just finished eating, then got to whatever work they had for the day. Nate waved him over with a soft smile and a rueful head shake.

  “Thanks for getting the jars. Lois says they'll work really well. We could use another load of them, if there are any left and it's safe to get them. There's a lot to still put by, even with the cellar loaded to the brim. I wish we had time to get another underground room built before winter.”

  Why not? It would be green logs in a pit away from the house, but the harvest was winding down and half the people were just sitting around and waiting for winter already, they had months before the ground froze. He shrugged.

  “Carley can run a log team and have that done in four days. Burt can walk it out and measure it. Then all we need is to dig the hole. Everyone can dig. We should have it done in a week. Faster if we try hard. I want another hunting trip soon, too. If we can figure out how to dry meat fast enough or anything. Um, so... I wanted to talk to you?”

  The other man sat down and dragged a dining room chair over with his foot, arranging them so that nothing was between them. An open and honest chat between friends then, rather than a “business” meeting? That was the kind of thing Nate had been good at the whole time. The touchy feely stuff that actually held people together as a group.

  “So, um, last night, when I got in, Heather was in my bed.” He said, which got raised eyebrows and a half grin from his friend.

  Jake frowned and shook his head.

  “With Randy, her new boyfriend? Not there to get all freaky with me either. They just decided it was comfier than the floor ,and since I wasn't at dinner, that meant it would be fair game. Probably true most times, but right now I'm not exactly feeling charitable toward them, for some reason. I'm probably a jerk that way. Can't really help it right now.”

  “Oh. Crap. I see. Well, I'll talk to them about that. People need to respect others' property and place. Things are too tight not to here, especially with winter coming. We'll all be inside most of the time then and if we step on each other's toes like that, tempers will flair.”

  Jake laughed, almost too loud so he slapped a hand over his mouth. Tempers would flare then? God, he hoped not. He'd almost killed them both already, which would have gotten blood all over his mattress. Made holes too.

  “Anyway, I think we should get more mattresses and bedding from town, collect baby junk and whatever is going to be needed. Also... Um,” Now he hesitated. This part was hard, mainly because it was stupid. But he didn't want to sleep on the front porch all winter either.

  And really, he was tired. Not just from the night outside either. Life had just worn him down. This place had. The people. It was time to make other arrangements. Wasn't t
hat how Nate had put it with the pregnant women?

  “I want an accounting. Like what we talked about before?”

  That got a slow blink, a sleepy looking thing from the other man, like he hadn't had his coffee or wasn't sleeping well lately. Jake sympathized. Taking care of all these people had to be hard work. For every person coming and suggesting they go and do something useful, there were probably nine that just whined at him, sad or scared, wanting daddy Nate to make the bad things go away for them. The idea of dumping his problems onto someone else had a certain allure, Jake had to admit.

  The guy in front of him rubbed his face, a week's beard growth had collected, signaling that it wasn't happenstance, but that the man was actually trying for facial hair? More blinking came.

  “An accounting? Of what? The harvest and food supplies? Lois has one going, it's not done yet, because she's trying to correct for spoilage as she goes. Ammo is low, but you pointed that out. We're fine for now, but in three months I don't know...”

  Right. Burns was trying, not very well, to distract him from his purpose, it was so clear that even Jake got it without having to think overly hard. He gave Nate a level look and raised an eyebrow.

  “My share of things. If it's enough... I was thinking last night, and maybe I can go get my own place. That way I won't be a bother to anyone here. I don't want to take it all or anything, but if I could borrow a cart to get it there, that could work. I'd have liked to make some tools and stuff first, but I think I know enough to get started now. It will be hard, but maybe, if I can get enough from here, I could make a go of it. Maybe not, but still, it's better than being here, even if I die.”

  “Um,” Nathanial huffed at him, a puffing sound that Jake took as anger, but that didn't seem to be the whole picture. There was a stiffening of the body too, so fear.