Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  It never had, probably.

  The only thing keeping him safe before were the social rules. Once those left, well, who knew what would happen? He stepped back slowly, one foot at a time, being careful not to trip, trying not to spook her. He didn't draw a weapon, but probably should have. It was her damned looks that did it. Innocent. A little thin. Delicate. He'd be upset if he had to shoot her.

  She sighed a little, a nearly silent thing and shook her head just enough for him to notice it happening.

  “So, you probably wonder what you saw in there?” She said calmly, staring at him in a way that caught his attention. Made him go blank, if only for an instant, he shook his head. Fighting clear of whatever she was doing. Some kind of mind trick? It felt like it. He shook his head a little more.

  “No... I saw that all pretty clearly. So, you know... world full of zombies... I'm kind of willing to buy just about anything right now, why don't you speak? Only without your little trick there, please. We're friends aren't we?” Then he thought a lot of people had been his friends that weren't. Maybe he was too open and nice? The idea nearly made him laugh, but it only came out as a small smile. That seemed to make Sammi feel better, since she smiled back, nodding a bit.

  “Yes, we definitely are that. I'm glad you remembered. I don't want things to get all tense. People can forget things like that sometimes, when surprises come like this.”

  In front of him the eyes still glowed. Instinctively Jake had moved so the sun would be in her face as it rose. That may not do anything to her, but at least it wouldn't be annoying him. The little girl gave him a slightly patronizing smile and stepped back herself. For a moment she looked ready to run, but then just relaxed again. Her tiny shoulders shrugged.

  “All right then. I was born... well if I told you that, you just wouldn't believe me at all, even now, I don't think. Let's just say I'm a bit older than I look? Easily the oldest person in the house, at any rate. I was born in York. That's not New York by the way, the place that redoubtable city is named after. Anyway, my family, my entire kind, is a little different than regular people. Longer lived for one thing. We do age, but at a slower rate than most. Better night vision, faster healing. I was licking Burt's wounds because my saliva has antibacterial, anti-fungal and anti-viral properties, and can speed healing in others.” She spread her hands slowly. “Will that do? I'd rather everyone not know yet, if possible. I really don't want some legend to start that my immunity to zombie bites is transferable if my blood is drunk, or if I'm anally sodomized while people chant and burn a white candle. True this isn't Africa, but desperate people will try anything and I'd really not have Dave's good work with Bill be undone now.”

  That... yeah, Jake could see it. Early on people had tried drinking bleach, cutting off bitten limbs and a whole host of other things that a normal person wouldn't have even thought of a few weeks prior to that. He could see someone thinking that about the girl. Woman. Old, old woman? He nodded.

  “I can see that. Are you a threat? I noticed you didn't eat dinner, do you drink blood or something? I don't know, live off of life energy pulled from other peoples soul's, or whatever?”

  The girl giggled at him and took a step closer, he responded with a step back. She stopped and smiled. Her face looked slightly put out, but not too much. Mocking him almost.

  “I'm really not a threat. I eat food, just like everyone else, wound licking aside. I just added garlic to the food for flavor and because it has some healing properties that may help Burt a bit. I hate the way it tastes though. So don't kiss me right now. I just got some of the venison you dried and ate that instead. A bit bland, but better than garlic. I can eat it by the way, it just tastes the way rotten eggs smell to me, due to all the sulfur in it.” She waited, her face saying something like; well, ask the question then.

  Wasn't he already?

  “You seem to want me to ask something, but I'm either too tired or too stupid to get your meaning right now. Would you just share anyway? It will save time and probably leave me feeling like less of a moron.” He tried to look confident and sound at least like this wasn't crazy. It mainly worked, because he killed zombies fairly regularly. That kind of reset the bar on what was unacceptably insane, didn't it? He even pretty much bought Heather's cannibals already and they hadn't shown up at all. She wasn't his favorite person, but the girl wasn't often wrong either, so if she said something was coming, Jake would get ready for it.

  The story she told was a long one, condensed into a few short sentences. It came down to three things, as far as she knew at the moment. The first was that her people had no history with, or of, zombies. People drugged into a stupor and called that, yes, but not this kind of movie classic walking dead thing. It was, she feared, something new. The second thing was that she'd been bitten, several times early on. The marks just healed totally in a few days. Slower if she didn't have food. The third thing was that she'd picked to live at the house because of the others gathering there. Even early on it was obvious to her that something interesting was happening.

  Not wanting to give away too much of what he was thinking, that mainly being his total lack of understanding about what she meant on the last bit he just stared at her. She didn't budge though and just looked back with a soft smile. Finally, after about three minutes she spoke.

  “You know, very few people will just stand and wait like that. Interesting. I was trying to force you to ask about them. You know them of course, since you've been there the whole time. You were the first really, weren't you? You and Nate? Nathanial, who almost always manages to bring the group together? Even when it's falling apart. Saying the right thing at the right time? My guess is a low level empath or telepath. He doesn't talk about it, but he clearly knows. Dave I think, has a double 'Y' chromosome disorder, and isn't a psychopath at all. Just very aggressive, lacking in fear and probably physically robust as he ages. Also prematurely bald most likely.

  “Tipper... Well, I'm not certain, but my bet is that both she and Vickie are more than they seem. For one thing, they smell funny. Different than the rest of you and obviously not totally human. Like earth and dust. I think they may be members of a modern version of the Amazon tribe. Vals probably, which is just one of the things like that. There are several modern warrior tribes with extra abilities, but I can't swear to that. They're certainly related, no further than cousins, I think. Possibly sisters. It's hard to tell just from scent. Everyone in our group smells similar now, from the specific shared diet.

  “Burt is a creator of things. It's a human trait, but he has more of it than most and a gentle soul. The thing is, almost everyone at the house is special in some way. Really, maybe everyone left is. Even the useless ones.” Tiny shoulders moved up and down, a look more fluid than normal now that he noticed. Not her normal clumsiness at all.

  Thinking Jake worked it out, figured he was wrong and spoke anyway.

  “Like Tammy? Obviously not all that in a fight, but she walked for at least a half mile right behind me without me noticing her. Not that I can't make a mistake, but she wasn't far off, she was just out of arms reach the whole time, and I was keyed up right then. Once I noticed it was easy to see her, but before that...”

  The girl nodded, “Probably an unconscious survival trait that suppresses noise. Maybe making it hard to see her too. No doubt why she was so successful in sneaking up on people in the dark and stabbing them. It was done without art or science though, so it wasn't a trained thing. That, or she was so good that she knew to make it look haphazard. If that were the case she probably would have waited for a better time to attack you though.”

  That got Jake thinking about the things that had happened over time, were there other oddities then?

  “Holsom, some kind of pheromone thing? Or chemical maybe?”

  “I think so. An Inc... Um... what we call an incubus. He's not a demon, obviously, or none of us would have likely survived. Probably addictive too, so once he had that many women around all the time, in
close quarters, they didn't have much choice but to seek him out for sex. Which also led to this latest fiasco. Too many men were left without partners in a mainly female dwelling for too long. The emotional strain nearly tore the whole thing apart. The women affected still seem under its grip. It's weakening, but the second event, the takeover attempt? I think that was a residual effect.”

  That was... interesting.

  He could follow the chain now that someone else had pointed it out. A lot of it made sense. He walked over and patted her on the shoulder, which got a giggle. Then he started to walk into the house, with the smaller form, whatever she was, walking alongside.

  “Well,” She demanded, as if feeling put out.

  “Well what?”

  “Aren't you going to at least ask?” Her look was adult, questioning and a little unbelieving.

  He shook his head. She stared at him sideways as they slowly ambled and nearly reached the door.

  “Aren't you the least bit curious about what you are?” Sammi fought a smile.

  “Me?” He smiled and shook his head. “All right, what am I?”

  “A very good man, Jake. And don't let anyone tell you different.” Then the girl giggled. It was nearly a happy thing. Like a joke he just didn't have the understanding for.

  “OK, tell that to the corpses of all the people I've killed. They'll be glad to know.” He grinned though, trying for wry. It got the woman that looked like a kid, if that's what she really was, to chuckle a bit more, a smoky thing that sounded too dark for someone so young and fresh looking.

  “There are different values of good for different worlds. For this one you're nearly perfect. People don't see it, because their own fear won't let them, but you always do the right thing, even when it's hard or unfair to you. That was one thing Dave got right. You're a guardian spirit. OK, it's not a super-power, but it's rare and special.” She looked at him in a way that spoke of a lot more having been seen than her eyes could hold. A depth in them that looked ancient suddenly. Probably the whole really old thing. That or she was playing the most elaborate practical joke ever. Even if she was something spooky.

  He wouldn't put it past her, after all, she had a lot of time to think of stuff like that if she wanted to. No TV or radio, no game stations or computers. Yeah, a clever kid could fool him if she worked at it. Still, it was more fun as a game than the ever popular “I don't like you that way” one. Jake decided to just go with it for now.

  Burt didn't wake up for hours more. Being injured really drained the energy from a body. Jake knew that from personal experience. Even little wounds added up. You didn't really notice it when you had plenty of food and a safe place to sleep, but when every day meant possibly running for your life, you got the idea pretty quick. The world now was far more dangerous than it was supposed to be. More than humans were built to withstand. At least the modern ones.

  On the shows, the documentaries that his Dad liked to watch and pretend were interesting, the pioneers always talked about how they were always tired. How there was always more to do and they never really felt rested. He got that now, but his world was a combination of that and war zone... with a bad acid trip thrown in.

  How could a little girl be that old? You'd really think it would show more. Was Ken like her too? Should Jake ask? For now he decided not to. It wasn't his business as long as they weren't a threat. They were still the same people he knew, now he just had an idea that some of them might have been slacking off to keep their own secrets safe.

  And that stuff about Tipper and Vickie...

  They weren't even that tall. Amazons? Weren't they like all six-four and brawny in the legends? Black too. Or at least South American. Tipper looked like an in-shape college professor and Vickie looked... Pretty good actually. Like a cheerleader or pro-volleyball player. But her hair color was different from Tip's, blonde. He hadn't compared their eye color, because who did that anymore? But they didn't look that much alike, did they? Tipper would have told him if she were special like that, right? Since it would have affected what she could do in a fight, and they'd been teammates.

  Or even that she liked men too and not just women?

  OK.

  Maybe that would be too much to ask after all. She didn't seem that close to Vickie though. If anything she seemed closest to him and Dave, then Nate and Carl. Then, did sisters and cousins have to be all that close? Being an only child, that kind of information was beyond him. The ideas filled his head and then emptied out a bit as he went to get the apples. Yeah, he had new and interesting information and things to think about, but winter wouldn't hold off just because of that. He took his cart, hoping to get enough for canning. He had a big pot and lots of pickle jars from the factory in town. The police had abandoned it as far as he could tell. That was too bad, since he really wanted to replenish his ammunition stash a bit more. He had about a hundred and sixty rounds for the nine millimeter left. He wasn't burning through it, but a couple of major attacks and he'd be trying to take zombies on with an axe.

  The apples were easy to get. It took hours, but there were seven trees in a pretty close space and he got a lot of bags of them, pillowcases mainly. Fifteen of them full. He had to go back and dump them before he got the black walnuts that had fallen in another little mini-grove. He didn't get as many of those, since they were still in their thick black husks, and those stained his hands and made them smell bitter. He didn't know if that was how to get them, but he did anyway. Just in case. If nothing else he could probably burn them once they dried. Nine full bags. Probably about four hundred pounds in all, he guessed? That meant what, a thousand plus pounds of apples? Not bad for a day's work. Now all he had to do was make sure they didn't go bad. Even he knew that the nuts were just pealed and dried, or roasted. That would be the easy part really. The hard part was the apples. Those had to be saved somehow didn't they? Some could be canned, and maybe he could try drying some?

  When he got back to his house the interior had changed a little in the kitchen and main bedrooms. He walked in to find Burt sitting at the kitchen table sipping at something. A cup that smelled like broth with more garlic in it. Given what he had around, that made sense. On the flat part of the stove, in an old cast iron pan, meat was being fried, with thinly sliced apples. Sammi stood working at it, with an intense look on her face. On the walls there were hangings. Just blankets nailed to the walls at the ceiling. Burt looked at him and grinned.

  “Insulation. We don't have the material to do it at the house, not yet, but if you create an inch or so of dead air along a wall it will keep the room a lot warmer. Our young friend here did it. Very capable young lady, don't you think?” He looked proud of her and winked at Jake conspiratorially. “Lois says she's indispensable in the kitchen you know. She could run the whole thing if she wanted.”

  The food was dumped out onto a large plate then transferred to smaller ones, large sprigs of something green on each. Something brown and crunchy looking was on the plates too, like slivered almonds, but that couldn't be. Picking one up with his fingers gently, the fat from the meat coating it, making it moist and too hot to hold really, Jake tasted it. He'd never had one before, but he got what it had to be anyway.

  “Pine nuts?”

  The little girl who wasn't young at all turned and nodded at him.

  “Tis the season for them. You should collect up the cones now, before all the nuts fall out. They don't burn very hot, but you can use the cones for heat in a pinch too, so you get double benefit for your labor. They taste like pine trees, but they have calories and you can pretend they're gourmet. These things used to cost about twenty dollars a pound in the city. I got that much today in about two hours.”

  Amazing. Not as cool as if a real little girl had thought of it, because experience made a big difference, but still a good idea. Sammi seemed different now, suddenly acting more confident and competent. That kind of seemed right, here she could be in charge after all, or at least do whatever she wanted, without pretendi
ng to be a real little girl. Jake knew her story, real or not and Burt didn't really work closely with her at all normally. He might just think this was normal.

  The man at the table asked about Jake's plans, the tone not all that casual about it either. He didn't say anything for a while, but he did have some didn't he? Jake nodded, taking several bites before speaking.

  “Tomorrow I'm going to get into town for more brick and maybe see if I can find some hand tools. A forge. I'm planning to retrofit part of the barn for that, because I really don't have the ability to pull large timber alone yet. I can cut them down, but not load them onto the cart. I also need to work out an improved water pump. I drove a well, like we did by the cow pasture, and it actually works. But the hand pump I made leaves a bit to be desired. It takes about ten minutes to get a bucket of water. I think the well is better than that and it's really just a failure of how I made the pump, the seals not being tight enough, and some air getting in maybe?”

  The man shook his head and looked down at the table for a minute, so did Sammi. If she was acting he couldn't tell, it seemed like they both wanted to ask something, but couldn't. Jake took a bite of slightly sour apple, sweeter for having been fried like this, he thought. It was a near thing that he wouldn't have noticed Back Before, used to refined sugar and being able to reject food if he didn't find it perfect. He hadn't even been a picky eater really, not compared to a lot of people. Things had just taught him not to be too prissy anymore. Back then if a fruit fly had gotten in his food, he'd have thrown the plate of it away and gotten more.

  Now he ate the fly, glad for the tiny bit of extra.

  The old man shook his head and looked up finally.