Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  After a bit Jake did figure out how to save skins, putting them on a frame and using string to stretch them out, then rubbing the brains of the animal on the still moist inside. That had come from Carl. He didn't do a wonderful job at first, but he saved everything. From in town he gathered supplies and made his own pump, out of PVC pipe, with wood for the handle, and old boot leather for the gasket and plunger thing. Then he drove his own well. It worked, if poorly compared to the ones Burt had made. He needed to do better, but it gave him water without twice daily trips to the river with a bucket. He even caught two foxes and a porcupine, which he speared, trying to save bullets.

  Through trial and error he figured out a crude snare that worked for rabbits and set up thirty of them as he went around gathering more wood. After a while, about a week, he started getting a few of those each day even. That really helped. The meat was lean, and he had to eat it with berries and fat or he felt sick after a while, a few days, but in all, things were going pretty well for him.

  By the time they came to visit, about a month later, things were looking pretty good at his little place. It wasn't that small even. Not for just him. He'd even managed a little fifty gallon hot water heater made up out of an old hibachi grill and a regular water heater he'd stripped the outside off of on a whim, wondering what would be under it. A large metal tank, it turned out. It worked pretty well and he got daily warm baths now. The place had a great old fashioned tub, with claw feet on it. Filling the tank was a pain, but he managed. It just took time and effort. He wanted to figure out how to run water directly to it, but hadn't really worked that out yet.

  It took days, but he finally got his own cart built too and could return the one from the house. He didn't particularly want to go, so the old one just sat in the barn, waiting for him to make the trip.

  Putting off unpleasant things? Who, Jake the killer? He smiled when he thought about it that way. In his whole time alone he hadn't had to kill anyone. Not a single person. That part was spectacular.

  It almost made up for not being loved even.

  When they walked up he wondered for a second if he were going to be in for a fight. Tipper and Dave had weapons out and Nate looked... exhausted. Worse than Jake had ever seen him and near the beginning there were times they hadn't eaten or slept for days. They had the big cart with them and trudged along slowly. In the back someone rode. An injured someone. Sitting next to him was a smaller form, Sammi.

  Nate put his right hand up when Jake walked out of his house, nine millimeter by his side. He'd actually found some more ammo, by taking it off of the body of a cop in town. A lot of the police still used the same model he did. It was handy. He didn't point it, since that would trigger a gun battle and he didn't see a reason for it yet. If they'd come to rob him it would have been a different group from the house, not this one. They wouldn't have just walked up either. It would have been an ambush.

  “Jake.” The older man, more gray looking now with the full beard which was only half brown, his voice tired and creaking.

  They all stood for a minute, no one moving much, weapons still. Finally he just put his away. They weren't here to fight. The others did the same, more or less, even Dave. Walking to the side of the cart he saw, to his surprise, that the injured person wasn't Ken, or even Lois, as he would have figured, Sammi being there, but Burt.

  “He's been stabbed, in the stomach, six times. We don't know who did it. No one saw, but it happened in the house, night before last. Things have gotten... bad, since you've left. Six people have been killed and another dozen injured in fights. Not even zombie attacks or raiders, they're all going after each other. Really it's a few guys trying to take over. Most of the people involved are the ones with Holsom's women.”

  Jake nodded at that, since it made sense. They were kind of the trouble makers weren't they?

  “Just the pregnant ones or the ones we didn't kill too? Justine and Yvonne? Or... is it all of them? Tipper's here, so not her, but Carley? She doesn't seem the type. Not to help guys take over.” Jake didn't look at any of them, not really knowing what they wanted. A place for Burt? He could do that, really he figured that he had enough for four people if they didn't mind jerky stew most nights, he wanted to get some fruit too, and had found some apple trees that looked good, and some walnuts. He'd planned on going to get those the next day.

  Tipper frowned at him.

  “Fuck Jake, could you not let your cock think for you for once? I'm not a traitor and most of the people know when they've got a good thing. Tracy's guy Bill is the ring leader, but they voted that no one could be killed for breaking the rules, which worked for a few weeks. Then they started breaking them all over the place. As it stands the cleaners are tempted to just take over and kill the trouble makers. No one wants to do it though, but these ass-fucks are going to get us all killed. Two of the bitches beat up Carley the other day for suggesting that we needed you back. Got her in the wash area. It's like a bad prison movie without the rape scenes. Yet, at least.”

  That... Jake stared. At Dave. The kid got it and shook his head, a bit ashamed. He looked thinner now, almost lean. The lack of food actually making him look pretty solid. That and all the work.

  “I was going to kill them, but they caught wind of it and took all the weapons. They said I was too young to be a cleaner. Another vote. I only have this now because Nate checked it out for me.” That did not seem to please the boy at all. He glared at Nate. “Then again it was him that said I needed to give them all up in the first place, so it's his fault really. Half the deaths are now. Moron move man. Should have let me take care of business and we wouldn't have this mess. Should have never let them vote to kick Jake out. We need him and now it's all going to fall apart. Oh, no, wait... it already has.” He stayed quiet, but sounded like he might just fix it by shooting the older man who stood looking down.

  Taking the whole scene in Jake nodded.

  “So, you want something from me?” He had no reason to make it easy on them. He didn't owe them anything now. Not any of them.

  “We need a place for Burt to heal up and... we could use your help Jake.” Tipper caught his eye and nodded.

  “OK, Burt can stay here. I have room. The food's a little meat heavy right now, but I'm working on that. No hardship, really. Turns out its way easier to get things going for a few people than a lot, especially if they don't want to work. Let's get him inside.”

  The injured man and he didn't just look older now, but old, new lines of pain on his face, like cuts in granite, fresh gouges that didn't look like they planned to leave anytime soon. The eyes were red and his breathing steady enough, but his voice stayed soft. Breathy and thin.

  “Thanks Jake. I think it was my arguing for the forge to be finished. No one wanted to do the work and I kind of took people to task for it. Oops. Got stabbed later that night. They didn't do Lois, thank God, but I'm worried about her. She's needed but... what if they go after her too? She's tough, but older than she looks. Nearly sixty-five.”

  The guest room was made up already. Not because he expected anyone, but really, there was no TV and he had to do something in the evenings. The bedding was nearly new on both beds and the furniture looked tidy and well kept. Most of it had already been there after all, not new, but the people that had lived there before, Back Before, had cared for their things. They laid Burt on the shiny burgundy and plum bed cover, it had gold thread strung through and matching pillow cases. Tipper ran her hand along it wistfully.

  “Nice. The whole place looks good. We half expected to find you living in a cave, sleeping in a pile on the floor, but this is nicer than what we have. A lot.” She looked at Burt and shook her head.

  “Except the stuff Burt and you built. That's some cool shit. What the fuck were they thinking going after Burt? I could almost see taking on me or Dave, even Vickie or Carl, but Burt? That's like burning the crops before harvest or something. Slitting their own throats.” She kept running her hand on the smooth and silky
fabric.

  She sighed. Then did it again.

  “So, we can leave Sammi here over night? It's safe for her?”

  The tone wasn't too worried, but the question rankled a bit.

  “What? You think that being out here has turned me into a rapist or something? Of course she's fine here. I won't let anything happen to her.” That was a stupid thing to say when she wanted his help, but then Tip had her moments. It probably came from being a lesbian.

  Except all the real lesbians he'd met were no dumber than anyone else really. Smarter most of the time.

  Nate clarified.

  “She meant is she safe alone? We, um, kind of want you to come back with us...”

  Oh.

  “Why on Earth would I do that? You kicked me out. Sure, I get that you here didn't do it, but they all voted. Forty-three people voted for my death. Don't claim that they were saying anything else either. Going back now would be... wrong. They picked their path. How does that old saying go? 'Not my problem man'? I'm happy here, why borrow trouble?” For that matter, why had they tracked it to his door?

  Dave, standing back in the corner snorted loudly, cradling his shotgun like a long lost friend, almost hugging it. Slowly, face blank, Jake turned to look at the black and blue that made up the kid's clothing. Newer clothes it seemed, probably because he'd gotten taller. Shorter than Jake still, but probably not for long.

  “Why? Because we're a team and you're the best person I know in a fight. I think I can do it alone, but these things are always way more fun if you don't die. That's my guess at least, so how about a little backup?” He grinned and winked. Charming, in a psychopathic way, meant to try and play on the heartstrings, but lacking internal feeling behind it. Superficial.

  It was Sammi, standing next to the bed, that got his attention. The girl didn't look at him and spoke softly. She sounded... Odd.

  “Bill, the one with Tracy, he keeps coming into the kitchen and rubbing up against me. I don't mean little brushes or trying to hug me too often either. I mean... he practically tries to fuck me in the kitchen. He's done it right in front of Lois and Ken, but said if they told he'd have us killed. I think... I think he plans to make me do things soon. Like he's just working up to it.” She sounded sad and scared.

  At the foot of the bed Nate sighed, “It's why we brought her. We, I don't know what else to do. The inmates are taking over the asylum...”

  Right. What had they expected?

  It was how he planned to get the preserves after all. If the greedy jerks hadn't eaten them all.

  He rubbed his face, clean and smooth still, since he'd found a lot more safety razors and even about a year's supply of shaving cream. Not his brand, which had always been the cheapest kind, this was all top end stuff. He didn't like it as well for some reason, it stung a little when he used it. Looking outside he realized how early it was. Not even noon yet. Almost firewood gathering time. He'd gotten a lot more, but winter would be cold and he didn't have even eleven cord yet. He'd never heated with wood before, and wondered if he needed twenty like the bigger house too? Could he afford the time away from working?

  Probably not. But then some sicko was planning to rape his buddy Sammi, possibly in Lois's kitchen, and he couldn't let that happen, could he? Not now that he knew about it. Jake gave them all withering looks, except the girl. Then he sighed.

  “Fine. We go now. We can take the carts back. I have my own now, I'll show you. Sammi, lots of food in the fridge. Mainly jerky, since, you know, no power. It works though, for dry storage. There's some fresh left, but trim the outside of it off first. Don't burn my house down please, all right? We'll be back later, maybe tomorrow. I'll try for tonight though, so remember the knock.” He rapped out the one he meant, which was the first line of happy birthday to you.

  “If anyone comes and knocks using anything else, shoot them through the door. Aim for the head. Not that zombies knock, but I want you to get the practice in case I need you to bail me out again.” He held his hand out for Nate's gun, and the man delivered it with a nod. For once he actually had two, which showed just how serious things really were.

  She nodded somberly.

  “I will Jake.” She promised, voice sounding way too innocent for some reason.

  They headed to the barn, a big brown thing that had been painted once, from the few spots of red barn color that were left, but that had to have been a long time before. It was still sound and the large sliding door still fit firmly on its track. It slid to the side, revealing the old wooden wagon, about the size of a sports car and his monstrosity next to it. It looked... horrible, like something from a caveman cartoon, built of branches and whole, but thin, logs he'd cut down, not all of them really straight. The wheels were tight though, gotten from town, and nearly matched the ones from the older, more real looking, wagon. The odd thing was, his rolled more smoothly as crappy as it looked. He'd taken it to town and hauled back at least a half ton of stuff in it, way easier.

  Tipper chuckled at it, but he shrugged.

  “I made it with an axe. It works. Like to see you do better. I mean that, please do, and then give me one.” He sounded nearly playful as he pulled the empty wagon out and looked around. He had another small wood stove he could spare from in town and some bedding. He'd gotten cart loads of the stuff. It could come in handy. Trying not to take the whole day Jake started loading things quickly. Nate tilted his head as if this were strange or something.

  Heh, they hadn't even checked the trap lines yet.

  That would take about an hour, he told them, if things needed to be reset. They found two rabbits and an opossum waiting for them. One of the rabbits was even still alive. Excitedly Jake got that back to the house and put the live one in the hutch out back. Live stock for later.

  With gifts in cart, he started back with them. The trip took a while, getting them in at about three in the afternoon. The place held an eerie quiet when they rolled up, people gathered around a body on the ground. No, two bodies, both still moved and the door to the house was closed. Carl had taken out the zombie, one that looked like the new kind. It still flapped and floundered and no one had taken the head off yet. Carl gasped in pain and kept muttering something. As they closed the scene got even clearer. A large chunk had been taken out of the black man's shoulder. No teeth marks though. And it bled freely. A scratch? The damage was deep and blood stained the man's clothes. A man with a rifle stood pointing it at the cleaner on the ground as if he were going to change in the next five minutes.

  “Tony, wait!” Nate said holding both hands out as he climbed from under the metal bar. The man, to his credit, did hesitate.

  “But, Nate, the new rules say were supposed to kill anyone that's been bitten. I...”

  Tipper rolled her eyes as she moved in front of the man, subtly moving to point her shotgun to aim at him. “Not a bite dumb ass. No teeth marks and the right hand of the deader is bloody, but the mouth isn't. Use your head. He needs first-aid. Get me a cloth.”

  No one moved.

  Instead they looked at the house, as if waiting for word about what to do to be put to a vote of some secret council. After a few seconds Jake dug out an old bed sheet and wrapped the wound as Carl groaned. It soaked through for a minute, which wasn't a good sign, but then the spot seemed to stop growing, the red circle only about twice what the wound was. Really bad things kept growing, at least while the person's heart still beat.

  They'd need to drop the man in quarantine, but the new ones didn't seem to infect with scratches. Not yet anyway. Jake wondered if it was because they didn't decay as fast. Less stuff to push into a person's blood stream with a single swipe?

  After a while the door to the house opened and a group of men, a few women in tow, walked out of the house slowly, all looking around nervously and clutching weapons. Given the thing that had attacked already, that made sense and Jake couldn't blame them for the fear. He didn't behead the thing yet, it not being his place here anymore, and felt a little shoc
ked that no one else had either. That was just protocol. Carl couldn't, and the others seemed more interested in fighting with him than anything else. Bill, the ring leader and cowardly child abuser wanna-be stepped forward and blustered at them.

  “Him! You've been banned, get out of here now or we'll-” The loud bang from the shotgun silenced the man. Dave smiled.

  “Well, that's settled. Look everyone, Jake's back, yay!” The homebody take-over squad wasn't really ready for that, but then, no one would be.

  Jake hit one after another of them in the face, including Tracy, who'd come out with the man and two other big bellied ladies. With each shot the odds of survival went up for the remaining people, so he didn't stop shooting until only two people remained, both on the ground covering their heads with bare hands as if that would stop bullets. Not a direct threat though. The woman on the ground looked like she'd been beaten pretty badly. The hooked nose one that had hit Lois.

  Terry? No, Tammy... that was it. Next to her was Clint, Justine's boyfriend. She wasn't around though, so Jake asked after her, hoping she wasn't one of the dead he'd been told about. The big boned woman had actually become useful after all. Unless that had changed too.

  One of the women from inside the house, looking pale and scared, a nervous one, who'd voted against Jake but hadn't spoken up that he recalled, softly said that she was in with the injured, guarding them with Carley, since they couldn't defend themselves. Clint it turned out had dumped Justine and was going out with old hook nose now. Which was definitely trading down as far as Jake could tell. She'd gotten the bruising when she and Tracy had jumped Carley. Tracy had apparently used Tammy as a club or something, because she looked a lot better than the woman begging on her knees. Even with the bullet hole in her head.