Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  “It's not fair to you Jake, after those fools voted you away like they did, but we need you back. Especially for the winter. Things started falling apart in days after you left. People stopped working, thinking that they had everything they needed for the winter, but they don't, not by half, and they wouldn't listen to the rest of us. We're going to be locked up for months if it snows hard and we have babies on the way... Without someone keeping order it's going to be a disaster.”

  He looked around at the room and shrugged, it looked more ragged and humble now, the wall hangings weren't exactly fine tapestries or anything, were they? It was his though and he kind of had things set up, didn't he? It would be hard, being alone all the time for months on end, he could feel that already. But here no one gave him strained and fearful looks. And if there were no women to possibly have sex with, there was also no rejection. No love for Jake at either place, but this one didn't hold out any promise of it, and then steal it away. This was better, he decided.

  Jake got what was being said, he was already the bogey-man there. If he went back, especially after having helped kill all those people the other day, it would help keep things going, give people something to fear. That didn't take a genius to figure out. Why no one else had stepped up he didn't get. He asked and Sammi answered, not caring that Burt might think deep insight strange from what appeared to be a little girl.

  “No one really could, except the cleaners. Dave is fantastic at what he does, but if Nate hadn't managed him as closely as he had, he would have killed a lot of innocent people too. Some people are just that annoying. Carl... He's a good fellow, but he's too good natured when it comes down to it. Too nice. I think he must have been very sweet before, don't you? He acts hard, but he cries when people die. He hides it, but it takes away a bit of the air of authority you have.” She ticked the people off on her fingers as she listed them off.

  “Burt believes in non-violence. Lois is good at her job, but can barely bring herself to walk out to the fields, even with guards. Julio is needed where he is, no matter what else is going on and Nate would be suicidal in a week if he had to kill anyone not actively trying to kill him. Even then it would be close. No one respects Tipper or Vickie enough, mainly because they're women, which is foolish, and all the sleeping around Tipper does means that too many people wouldn't believe she'd kill them, and I can keep listing, but you get the idea. We could, if we had time, force a group into play, the cleaning team leaders, Dave and Barry. They could do it, together, but not as well as you can alone. Groups move too slowly for what we need.”

  Jake stopped her and held up his right hand after putting his fork down. The light was fading and he didn't have a lot of candles so they'd opened the front of the wood stove for light. It worked, he just had to watch for sparks since it didn't have a grate on it.

  “Julio? Please god don't tell me we've all been calling him Jose all this time because we're a bunch of racist pricks, that's... We may have just as well called him 'chico'. I also don't know who Barry is off the top of my head. I didn't make a point of getting to know anyone...”

  Sammi smiled into the dark and reached over to pat him on the arm.

  “Julio, not Jose. Yes, everyone has been tending to be a bit stereotypical there. Do you know he has a PhD in agricultural sciences? He was in the States attending a conference when everything happened. What, did you think he was an illegal farm worker that just happened to be around?”

  Since that was exactly what he'd thought Jake put a hand on his forehead and nodded. He felt guilty for a second. A Doctor? And the whole time he'd treated the man like... Honestly he'd treated him like everyone else, only more important. Hard working food guy. Yeah, that kind of trumped Doctor of agriculture now, didn't it? Or at least meant basically the same thing. Plus the man had never bothered to correct the name, so maybe he didn't care. Jake wasn't fluent in Spanish by any means, but he could have gotten “My name's not Jose, asshole” easily enough.

  Burt gave him a considering look and filled in the rest for him.

  “Barry, he's the older man on Carl's team, the war vet? Steady guy. Not as agile as the others anymore. He's glad enough to be on the hunting team now, except that for the last month the cleaners have all been on guard duty the whole time. It was voted on. Fear winning the day. I get it, I mean I wouldn't have come here on my own, even with guards, not if I could have helped it. I guess I need to grow a pair?” He sounded a bit sour suddenly, as if this was an old issue with him. Like he expected Jake to call him a coward.

  “Heh, well you're doing better than a lot of people. I wouldn't worry about it. Brave is the same as dead anymore, as often as not. Smart is better, and if the smart money says be careful, then that should be the plan.”

  The man just grunted at him a little.

  “Easy for you to say.” The man didn't grin, but his tone had lightened a lot. It was still soft, because of the wounds, but he didn't seem to be nearly as injured today as the day before when he'd seemed half dead.

  Sammi spit to the rescue?

  Jake finished eating. He didn't want to go back. It really was that simple, wasn't it? He didn't want to and no one could make him. He didn't need them.

  But they needed him.

  Maybe.

  Crap. That part of things was unexpected to him. What had happened to the selfish little jerk living at home off his parents for all those years? He knew, since he'd lived it, but it was hard to believe.

  That guy had died in the house he'd grown up in, and Jake had come into being instead. Maybe the only good thing to come out of the end of the world so far. Jake was a lot better of a person than Mickey Robson had ever been. If they'd met now, Jake would have shot that little punk after about fifteen minutes. Lazy, loud and whiny. Only he wouldn't, because Mickey was smart enough to learn to be quiet. Good enough to adapt when he had to. To realize when it was time to work and not worry about himself too much anymore.

  The name was just what popped out of his mouth when he first met Nate on the street. He'd been in shock, walking when he really should have hidden, carrying a gun with him because that's what you did in a zombie attack. It had been what the main character of the video game he'd been playing at the time had been called. Jake Hardkill.

  He'd left the last part off. Mainly because it sounded silly. Hardkill? What kind of name was that supposed to be anyway? Dutch? Gamish?

  Did he owe them anything? He thought about it as he finished eating and moved to wash the dishes in the pan of stove warmed water, scrubbing them as best he could without soap. He did have a scrub brush at least. He had bar soap too, but dish soap hadn't been high on the list of things to look for yet.

  Those people had kind of been his family for months, but then... they hadn't been that at the same time. No one there cared for him after all, just what they thought he could do for them. After a while he decided he didn't really owe them at all. He'd have made it on his own if he had too. Or died, which was also a real possibility, but he wouldn't have done half the dangerous things without other people to protect. The next question was the real one though. Did it matter? Did they still live in a world where the only people you helped were the ones that could do things for you in return? Well...

  Obviously.

  That was pretty much the rule everyone lived by, and had been for a lot longer than zombies had been around.

  Was he like that though? That part caught him out and made him feel very small for a while. Would he endanger fifty odd people just because it might make him a little uncomfortable for a while to help them? It didn't sit well with him and he shook his head hard, which got the other's attention. Burt looked a little crestfallen. Sammi just sat and watched him, as if curious about what he'd do.

  “Fine, I'll go back, but I'm leaving this place stocked just in case. It makes a good place to hunt from if nothing else. I want to go on the record here though as saying that I don't like it. I'm doing this for everyone else and if anyone gives me grief, I'll...
leave again and take my real share of things from the house. I'll have to, in order to survive if I have to lose time here by going back and...” He'd what, kill them? Whine and complain? Cry at them all?

  It might not even be true he knew, Jake had enough to get by for the winter he thought, even for a few people.

  Luckily the others just made relieved sounds and didn't force him to finish the other part of his half thought out threat. That was good, because he had nothing. They went to bed shortly after that, and if Sammi did that creepy wound licking thing again in the night, she was careful to do it before it got light enough for him to see. She'd made his bed up for him while he was getting the fruit, so he got to sleep like a person and not a refugee that night at least. The sheets were crisp and, if not new, at least clean.

  It took three days for him to move to the main house and that only after some hard talks with Nate and a few others, which included all the cleaning team leaders and Carley. They agreed to his terms, he'd come back and no one would give him any grief over things, they'd treat him like an actual person and everything, even be nice to him. That was the claim at least. Jake didn't buy it and he didn't stay there that first night at all, instead he went and got more brick in town, scavenging bedding and going house to house on his own, cleaning out any undead he found without help. There were a lot less of them now, so it wasn't hard. He had the big cart, so he brought back a stack of mattresses too, when he went back the next day. The weather had turned and everything had to be covered with a plastic tarp. The odd thing there was that everyone that had a garage had at least one of them, normally hidden in the back. When he'd gone to search for the one he was using he'd gotten a big surprise.

  Well, two really. The dusty and dark space didn't have windows, just the light from the door, left open to let in the pale morning light. He barely saw the shambler, but his sudden fear warned him along with the smell. That took two bullets.

  The rest was what he found amazing though. In the back, covered by the very heavy plastic he'd been looking for was an old looking wooden box. A big box, hard to even pick up it was so heavy. Inside the chest were tools. Old fashioned hand tools. They had wooden handles and dust on them, in a box or not, so probably antiques. He nearly yelled he was so happy. Of course then Jake would have to kill himself, so he refrained.

  Tools. A wide variety of them, hand drills and saws, hammers and mallets and more, things he didn't even recognize at all. The box must have weighed what he did or more, making it a chore to carry to the cart, but he wouldn't have traded for its weight in gold. Not even its weight in women willing to sleep with him. It was like finding a pirate's treasure or something. Only more useful.

  The trip back to the house was a cold trudge in the rain, but he still smiled every now and then.

  Real tools. Heh.

  He kept doing the same thing for a while after that, going and getting materials most days. Then he'd alternate for a day or two working on the forge, and getting Carley to go with him and a team of people to cut and haul a huge stack of green logs. They'd need them for charcoal Burt had told them. The older man wasn't up to doing much yet, but he walked out and made suggestions on the forge and the space around it, plus a few other ideas he had. They ended up spending a lot of time together because Burt didn't want to be trapped in the house any more than he had to be. Not after having been stabbed there.

  Jake could get that.

  People had been surly and negative toward him when he left, a little whiny and dark, but the events that had happened had really shaken the survivors. Most of the people wouldn't leave the house at all now, unless someone threatened them into it. Even getting them to go out and get firewood for the kitchen had to involve someone looking at the adults menacingly. Sammi just did it, which meant Ken went with her, armed with a rifle now when he went out. It was strange, because if anything the world around them was safer now than it had been before. The danger had all been from within.

  Heather came out too, and tried to visit with him in the forge as he worked with Burt several times, but didn't say much, as if waiting for him to be alone. Jake never was. That, privacy, he missed. For a whole month he had it and now it was gone again. The only time no one looked at him was on the toilet or when he went into town. Worse, the girl watched him. A lot. Not flirtatious staring or anything nice either, just watching as if he were an entertainment. Or looking for weaknesses. Jake ignored it. Really he tried to ignore all of them as best he could except Carley and Burt. Sammi too.

  Julio, Doctor Julio Mendez, worked daily in the greenhouse and grabbed him the day after the forge was done, and smiling, took his arm and led him to the kitchen where breakfast was being made. A corn mush that was heavy and sticky. Sammi knew how to make it. They ate it with a bit of strawberry syrup to sweeten it most days. Jake liked it, but a few people complained because it was too bland. Julio pointed at the stove, gesturing to it and then running off a steady flow of Spanish far too fast for Jake to follow. He got fire and hot out of it, but that was about all. Sammi nodded though.

  “He'd like you to find or build him a little wood stove for the greenhouse. He's afraid that it might get too cold when winter sets in, even sharing a wall with the house. He's got a few plants that aren't cold hearty and he doesn't want to lose them.”

  “Oh? Well, if nothing else I can build a brick oven for him for that. I'll see if I can find something ready-made first though, when does he need it by?” Jake smiled and looked at Julio as he talked, remembering not to call him Jose.

  That part was embarrassing when he thought about it. If they had a Russian guy would they have all called him Ivan too? God. Well, all he could do now was try not to do it again.

  The man spoke with the girl for a minute and then she turned back to Jake, “He says that sooner is better. He has a feeling that winter will come earlier than we think and might be colder. He doesn't have a reason for it, but...”

  “But if Julio says prepare for a hard winter, then we do. That goes without saying, and needs no explanation.” Jake finished for her, nodding seriously. If the man wanted them to run around the fields naked in the snow, they'd do it. A general warning to be careful... Yeah.

  “We'll get with Carley, and see about getting some more wood in too then. And... I'll try to find some things in town for insulation, like Burt mentioned? Will you see to getting those up Sammi?”

  She translated that which got a big smile from the smaller man and his hand came out to shake with Jake. One thing about Julio, he was always friendly and polite. Half the other people just tried to pretend Jake didn't exist.

  Everyone had taken some knocks in the last month, that they hadn't expected. So Jake could cut them some slack, couldn't he? It wasn't fun being the bad guy, but people lived in fear all the time now. They had to blame someone and it was hard to blame the zombies. That would be like blaming sharks.

  The cleaners weren't even going out now, they just did little chores around the house and waited, listless and depressed. Gloomy.

  Sad really.

  They needed to work and keep busy, to build things and keep going, doing anything else would probably get a bunch of them killed. Sad meant they'd take stupid risks. That meant putting people in danger for no reason and then Jake would have to shoot them when they got mad and started screaming at people.

  That night Jake asked for volunteers. Or at least he tried to.

  “We need to make charcoal for the forge. Ken and Burt have the bellows done already and I've even gotten some metal in for it and some basic tools from in town that Burt got that will let us make more tools specifically for the task of building more things. Convoluted, but it has to be done. Hauling the logs into place, and tending the fire is important. Not hard, but needed. I also want a hunting team to go out again. We should be able to get more meat now, right?” Jake looked at Carl specifically, the man nodded, but didn't say anything.

  No one volunteered at all.

  Jake sighed and looked at N
ate, who barely glanced up from his plate of food.

  Fine, they could do it this way if they wanted. Mean old Jake to the rescue then. He cleared his throat gruffly and... sneered a bit at the room until everyone looked up.

  “So... Everyone on that side of the room,” he waved to the right, a vague thing that couldn't possibly let anyone know who exactly he meant. “Get with Carl, if you don't have another job worth doing more, by his estimation, you're on the hunting team. The other side of the room,” they got a wide wave too. “Charcoal burn for the next few days and then we're going into town scavenging before the weather gets too cold for it. If you don't want to go into town get with me and impress me with how important what you're doing here is, instead. Regardless, we're doing the logs tomorrow, so you get a day to make something up.” Jake smiled, “I mean you get a whole day to show me how important what you're doing now is. Or, heck, invent something, as long as it's real and useful.”

  He didn't expect much from people but they started grumbling instantly.

  “We should have a vote...” A male voice came from the back.

  “All right,” Jake said, smiling and pointing at the man. He didn't sound mean, but the guy shrank down, trying to hide suddenly. It was a good point. Since if this didn't work, shooting was probably the next step...

  “We will.” Jake grinned a bit viciously.

  Everyone stared at him for a moment. That really hadn't worked too well last time, since most people voted for their own comfort in the moment, not for what needed to be done. Jake pointed that out gently, his voice firm, as if talking to small misbehaving children.

  “So from now on, you have to earn the right to vote. Head up a work team sometime in the last week, or start a project that actually helps everyone else in some way in the same time. Who's done that, worked on something important, or headed a team in the last week, hands up please?” He raised his own, since the forge had to count, right? Plus the scavenging he'd done. He pointed that out, to give everyone the idea.