Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  “How many of your friends and comrades in arms have you had to kill, to prevent the enemy from descending on you all? How many have you killed with what weapons you could find near you at the time, after all other resources have been depleted?”

  The girl didn’t look down, didn’t seem humbled by it, she just tilted her head slightly.

  “None, ma’am.” The accent was thicker this time, kind of Swedish sounding, if old movies about all blonde bikini model teams were accurate at least.

  “That’s right. None. It wasn’t required of you, and is nothing to feel ashamed of, but it is something to understand before we go out today. Doing otherwise will just get people killed.” Vickie waved toward him, still looking at her troops.

  “Jake is a VGM, The Very Good Man of legend, and do you know how many he’s had to kill, just to sit here with us right now, just so some of us can be here, myself included?” She let the whole place go silent, looking at her. Waiting for the punch line of the joke.

  Jake didn’t know himself. He’d never kept count, it seemed kind of crass, to tell the truth.

  “At least a thousand zombies, probably closer to twice that. Seventy-six uninfected humans that I know of. Scores of child zombies that had to be put down the same as the others and at least thirty-seven of his own people, to protect everyone else when they couldn’t control themselves or had to be eased into death to save them pain.” She stared down at the girl, but didn’t look mean about it.

  Then she looked around.

  “A Very Good Man. We all know what that means, we’ve grown up on the stories, the tales of how sweet and gentle he has to be by nature. And that’s what was required of him to survive out here. This isn’t Valhalla behind a safe fence, or a planned exercise where you can go see a medic if you get hurt, this is the real world, and it’s gone to hell.

  "Don’t misunderstand me, all of you are equal to the task we have before us today. But only if you don’t get full of yourselves and think that training is the same as real experience. Would I take Jake with us today if I could? Yes. He has the experience and ability to survive this. I’d take him over all of you put together. Don’t doubt that for a second. It’s not the job of someone like him to go and fight though. He should have never had to at all. That’s our part, our failure that he’s had to. The Vals, the Denari, the T’srith. So today, we are going to go out into the woods, keep our heads, take out the enemy and make them pay for killing and eating children. If there has ever been a more righteous reason for killing, then I’ve not heard it. They may not be the only danger out there either, so pay attention and assume that every shot fired must aim for the head, every time. Central brainstem destruction. Don’t forget yourself and aim for center mass. No playing around or trying to earn your names. There will be names enough to go around at the end of the day, I think.”

  It was a decently rousing speech and they seemed pleased enough. Some of the younger looking ones even smiled happily, as if what they were going to do was just a fun little project. A game.

  They were fools though then, weren’t they?

  Jake wondered if they thought that Vickie was kidding about what he’d done? About what their sweet little VGM had to become in order to make it. From the looks he was getting that was probably just the case. He didn’t care about that kind of thing anymore personally. Yay. Apathy. It really was simpler that way.

  They were leaving from outside, and Cam was going to try and do the work in two transfers, since Morten teased her into accepting it as a challenge, even though he could have done it in seconds. It was all about training. Pushing her to do more, constantly. To push herself to very near the limits of what was possible. The pace was, he suspected, much faster than what a normal girl her age would have gotten, but it wasn’t a normal world anymore, was it?

  While they waited three shamblers came out of the woods. They weren’t being loud, the girls were decently quiet in fact, even muffling their breathing with cloths over their mouths, but the combined scent must have drawn them in. He shot the first one in the head twice without thinking, and the second once, knocking it down, which got the last one to go down, kneeling in the snow, trying to eat it, even as it stood up. They all just kept moaning, even the downed one with no brain left. That could happen if the brainstem wasn’t severed completely.

  Before he could walk over to finish it, Vickie pointed at Six, and gestured, using a complex set of silent hand motions, what she wanted her to do. The girl acted instantly, jogging over and shooting the crouching one in the head twice with her rifle, then she aimed at the one on the ground, only to fall when it kicked randomly, hitting her lead leg. Normally that wouldn’t have done much, her weight being on the rear leg, like it was supposed to be, but the snow had layers of ice and frozen fluff in alternating layers, meaning it was very possible to just slip if you weren’t careful right now. It wasn’t a pretty thing, but as they both scrambled up, it was clear the Six was going to win the race to stand first. Until she slipped again.

  Jake pointed his nine at the zombies head, but didn’t shoot, Vicki holding up her bare left hand to prevent it.

  The girl lashed out with a kick of her own, awkward and ungainly, arms half buried in the snow, weapon still in hand. Not, Jake was sure, her normal fighting style. It worked though, and took the undead man down again. This time, with a slightly put upon frown, she got to her feet and shot the thing twice, to make sure it wasn’t going to get up again on its own.

  Jake kept his weapon out and ran to get one of his axes. They were broad headed things he made, heavy, meant to take off heads. Only when he got to the barn he remembered that they’d been left at the House.

  He had a machete, but it was so much harder to take heads with that, when the necks were frozen.

  Slipping on a pair of cloth work gloves he took the head from the one he’d gotten and then handed the blade to Six. She’d watched him do it, but went wide eyed at the idea of doing it herself. It took her less time than it did him, but she was two or three times stronger than he was. She missed a lot more, alternating blows to the upper chest and face with correct ones to the neck, which slowed her down, but that just took practice. How many heads had she hacked off most likely? Five? Ten? None?

  He’d done more.

  A lot more.

  But he was the one going to be shuffled off to a meeting that probably had no bearing on the world at all, while a bunch of kids went out and fought? That hardly seemed right, did it? Not that he wanted to be there. He just didn’t want them to go alone.

  Without him.

  As if he was special somehow? It was a stupid idea. He knew that. He could see it clearly even. He still felt it though. A little niggling doubt, a sense that he was supposed to be the one in front, taking the hits, taking the risk. It wasn’t his job though, was it? Not today. Cam signaled the first group to come link hands with her, and they were gone within seconds, leaving nothing but footprints. The second group stood around, staring at him, then Vickie. Then the zombies that still moved, even though they were down. They were animated dead. Destroying the brain didn’t really kill them, it just made it harder for them to coordinate movements. They could still bite, or scratch, and if they did, you’d still turn into one of them. They just didn’t hunt you anymore.

  That could be a little disconcerting, no doubt. It still kind of freaked him the heck out and he’d seen it a few times before now. Almost daily for months.

  Morten waited with him until Cam came back and got the second group, then he turned and offered his arm, like the usher at a wedding or guy with his prom date. It was ridiculous, but Jake took it, closing his eyes first, and opened them in the bright sun, on a white sand beach, someplace that had very clear blue waters. An island? Jake shook his head. It was a good place to avoid the undead.

  “We should have brought swim suits.” It was pretty, in a tropical paradise kind of way. If you liked that sort of thing.

  Next to him Mort just nodded and pointed a
t a sandy trail, with lush vegetation on either side.

  “I think we’re expected up at the villa? This way.”

  Jake sighed and followed, having a feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

  He wasn’t wrong. Not at all.

  A long, boring day.

  Six meetings. The first four pretty much just being about how great it was that he’d come to visit and a bit of a lesson about the different groups. Plus a healthy dose of how awful some of the other groups were, which he corrected immediately each time he heard it, even if it was rude to interrupt.

  “We’re one group now. Let the past go. I know it’s hard, but it has to be done and everyone else is trying too. No one wants to be the last one to adapt .”

  It became his mantra almost, something he said so many times that even he was sick of hearing it by the time he got to meet with Lamont, who apparently was headquartered in Nevada somewhere. It was cold again at least, so Jake didn’t have to roast the whole time. Morten didn’t give specifics and it wasn’t Reno or Las Vegas, so Jake didn’t know the particulars. From the second he got into place, Jake made his mind go silent. As well as he could at least. Lamont made a face at him, but didn’t comment.

  “Could we do this away from, um, prying minds?” Jake asked quickly. Smiling peacefully.

  “Other than yours I mean? Also, would it be all right if Yalla and Morris could be in on this? Morten will have to look them up, I haven’t asked if they’d be available, but that’s the nature of meetings like this, right?” Secret ones that no one was supposed to know about he meant, but tried not to think, just in case someone was listening in.

  Lamont quirked his mouth and snorted softly, gray hair well combed and the green and tan jacket he wore looked like it wouldn’t have been in style. Ever. The black slacks were normal enough though.

  “Hmm. All right. This way please? Morten is it? Perhaps you should stop thinking so loudly, if this is going to be a secret at all?” With that the older man led them to a building behind all the others, one that looked like it belonged at a college on television. Brick and ivy over the whole thing, with nothing else around but a fence and some hills as far as the eye could see.

  Then Morten left, without saying anything, as Lamont got him to help set out some chairs.

  “No refreshments here, I’m afraid. I didn’t know we’d be using the space, so I set up in my study like I normally would. I hope that’s all right? If you need anything, I can go and get it or…” He seemed tentative. Scared.

  It took Jake a bit to realize he hadn’t been thinking much at all, which probably said a lot of bad things might happen to a telepath. If your main form of self-defense relied heavily on knowing what others thought and then someone didn’t... Not doing it could be disconcerting. He made a point of thinking again and smiled.

  “Sorry. Um, when the others get here, will you read them for me please? I’m going to have to be a little rude, but I think they’ll get the idea, and not beat me up over it.” He hoped so at least. That would hurt.

  Morris might not be a big threat, but short of shooting her, he doubted he could stop Yalla at all. Then, he wasn’t going to be that rude to her, was he? She was really there to be his back up, as well as the head of the investigation.

  As a total aside Jake tilted his head at the man and spoke out loud.

  “So… Sammi got your help in setting me up as a fake figurehead?” Jake thought, but not about that, just about how he knew the secret plan now. It was a decent one after all. He didn’t bother going over what she’d said about it all in his thoughts. Jake wanted to see what the older man had to say on the topic, if he wasn’t influenced first.

  The old man got a mischievous grin on his face, but he looked Jake dead in the eye as he answered. Hands at his side and relaxed.

  “She did. Before you got there the first time we met. Dragged me outside to 'look at the compound', which was suspicious as all get out. Imagine my surprise when I first touched your mind though. Even if I wasn’t a telepath, I think I would have gotten it. That the people at the House didn’t understand what you were earlier… Well, perhaps it can be forgiven? Very Good Men aren’t exactly common. Or well understood. Darian caught the interplay, but,” this time Lamont chuckled for a moment waving his hand before he could really speak clearly again.

  “Oh, sorry. It was funny though. He thought that his granddaughter was making arrangements to try and hide what you were from the others. Some complicated plan to whisk you away when no one else was paying attention. I know that Morris was tempted to do just that. Me too, by the way, and the Grand Comtrice. She was almost about to try and fight her way out with you, after she discovered what had happened to you, how you’ve been treated, but then you started joking with Yalla. It kind of threw her off guard. Debbie is old for her kind, but she might have made it. You don’t get to be Grand Comtrice just by being the oldest person at the meeting. No one has even bothered trying to challenge her for the position in thirty years, I don’t think.”

  Jake just nodded. Being able to move anything you bled on could probably help in a fight. The idea of a storm of bodies flying around was kind of terrifying really. He blinked at Lamont though, his mind finally catching up to what had been said.

  “Wait… Her name’s Debbie? I… Well that sounds a little young and girlish, doesn’t it?”

  Lamont just shrugged, a comfortable move, his thin shoulders looking fluid and expressive.

  “Deborah then. I’ve known her since she was in her twenties, and she was a little young and girlish back then. Used to be quite a looker. Still isn’t all that bad…” The man gave Jake a knowing smile and looked at the door then, not saying anything more.

  The words were shocking though. Not because the Grand Comtrice had once been good looking, he could kind of see that still. It was that Lamont and her hadn’t been at each other’s throats for fifty years or more. Most of the groups kind of distrusted the telepaths. They all claimed different reasons, but it was probably because they made it so hard to keep secrets. If you weren’t going to be perfectly honest and open all the time, that could be hard to deal with.

  They had to wait a minute, but both the leaders came. Morten holding one in each hand, by the arm, since he was the person that could get them directly to the room. Morris had probably never been there before.

  The leader of the Teleporters looked at him directly as if the others weren’t even there, and smiled.

  “Jake, I have those spices lined up for you.” His words were happy and relaxed.

  “Oh, great. I have some beef, sheep or deer meat or some of each if you want.” Jake fixed the man, glaring a little, his face going blank.

  “First though, can you explain why one of your people would be taking part in the attack on the Bawdri Princess Alyssian that turned her into a zombie?”

  The man’s mouth dropped open.

  “Um… no. I couldn’t explain that at all. How do you… what’s going on? Is she all right? I mean, I guess not, if she’s…”

  Jake didn’t smile or nod, he just explained it all, and then waited while the man answered, mainly just going over how he didn’t know anything about it while looking very nervous. Finally Lamont nodded.

  “Clear. He doesn’t know more than he’s saying. Neither do these other two.” The old man’s wave included Morten. Jake hadn’t thought about that, but it was a good point. Everyone needed to be cleared in this, didn’t they? Him too, if it were possible. It might not be though, since no one could read his mind for certain.

  “Good. Then we need to plan, because Alyssian kept this a secret from Darian, to prevent a war between your people, even as she suffers from the attack, still in constant agony, but I have no clue if that’s going to last. We need to get to the bottom of this fast. From what’s been said, I have an odd feeling that the people behind this might just be the same ones responsible for the zombies in the first place. If we can get a lead at all, that might just be a good thing.
”

  The others nodded and made polite noises, as if he’d said something important or wise.

  Shaking his head he nearly laughed.

  The whole thing was just totally messed up and if there was wisdom anywhere near it, he couldn’t tell at all.

  Chapter eight

  Morten got them to the last meeting, a rather boring affair with a group of people that just looked at him warily for the first several minutes as he stood, waiting for someone to say something. It wasn’t his place, so he didn’t speak first, but it was starting to get a bit nerve wracking about nine or ten minutes into the whole thing.

  Mort grinned and filled him in a bit about who they were.

  “Technologists. Humans, like you, Ba-Dehist. They live here, in South America. A newer group, only about eighty years old, but impressive enough, if a little odd. I’ve heard rumors of what they can do, but they seldom involve themselves with outsiders. When they do it’s mainly just to get access to materials they need.” The man rubbed at his dark hair which looked more red here, surrounded by green tropical plants as they were.

  “Hard to steal from, too. They always seem to know when you’re coming, and will have people just standing and waiting for you. Like this. Except this time we were expected. They usually talk a lot faster than this though. They must like you. It’s made them all shy.” Morten made a very small wave indicating who he meant, not that it was hard to figure out.

  In front of them were five people. It was a mixed group, with three men and two women. All white with dark hair, except one woman, who had hair that nearly verged on being blonde. They all seemed to be about thirty, give or take, and wore clothing that reminded Jake a little of retro movies that showed aviators from the nineteen-twenties or so. Leather jackets, scarves and tan pants that were tight and seemed made of something like spandex, rather than canvas. They were all clean. The men didn’t have facial hair even, and the women wore make-up. It was light, and left them seeming fresh, rather than like they tried to hide their age. They were all healthy and attractive, well fed even by the standards of the House.