The survivors were loaded into the backs of the all-terrain vehicles and sent to a giant camp in the center of the country, surrounded by electrified fencing. It later emerged that this was where the humans were “kept.”
Five
For the last week, Sarah experienced strange dreams and visions of how things were before. Although when she awoke, details were sketchy, she found remembering specific details difficult. Thankfully, there were certain images that stuck in her head.
She was now certain she could remember her father. A man! If men really existed then where were they?
Sarah, clad in her exercise clothes, set out for a walk. The Guardians encouraged exercise. As the song went; A healthy body, a healthy mind, healthy litters, healthy for life. She could play that on the piano.
Sarah thought again about her dreams. They must be nonsense. If there were such things as men, then they would likely be here in Clinton County - Impossible.
The walk along the inside of the fence stretched for miles and miles. Sarah had no idea how far the perimeter stretched for. She was glad for the fence, for it kept them safe from the evil that existed on the outside. She had seen the movies about the wars, the zombies and the corruption and so she was glad the Guardians kept Clinton County safe.
She stared beyond the fence and out into the baron fields of Terra Incognita. A chill ran down her spine. There was nothing but fear and death out there.
She turned back into the county. Thousands upon thousands of homes, all beautifully kept – Happiness. She caught sight of dozens of women, all walking their dogs, some jogging, even with their bulging tummies.
Sarah had been slacking a little recently with her exercise. She felt bad about that because she deeply cared about the health of her unborn litter. She had though been a stickler with her iron supplementation. After all, taking a capsule was easier than taking an hour long walk. She was making up for her laziness now though. She was determined to walk a little further along the fence perimeter today.
In a park, dozens of women were shuttle running; some sort of group exercise session. Everybody was just so happy. Music blasted out from a stereo on the grass, a familiar song, the words having stuck in her head from the TV. “Don’t touch the fence, don’t touch the fence, you will disappoint the Guardians if you touch the fence.” Sarah never would touch that fence.
In the playground of her old school, where she spent many happy years, Sarah watched young girls playing. They would be ready for their first litter soon.
She hadn’t entered the old school premises for years, the feeling of nostalgia was coursing through her bones. She decided to go in and visit her old teacher Mrs. Woolf. Sarah had been fond of Mrs. Woolf for she had been a good teacher, as well as a stickler for discipline. Now as an adult, Sarah appreciated all the good that being disciplined had brought.
The corridor walls were adorned with art and Sarah studied some of the drawings that stood out against the others. One picture in particular caught her attention. It was of a Guardian protecting a child from a zombie. The sky was red, the zombie terrifying, but the child was smiling towards the black clad Guardian who brought protection in the form of a blade penetrating through the eye of the zombie. Some of these kids were truly talented.
Sarah heard singing down the corridor and she walked toward the sound. Two large doors at the end of the hall, Sarah remembered, gave way to the main hall. She peered through the window. More than a thousand young girls all sang the familiar verse, the sound of the hymn bringing everything back.
“We live to serve, we live for duty. Duty to earth, for her we serve. We breed to serve, we breed for love, to serve our beloved, the Guardians of earth.” Tears pricked at Sarah’s eyes. She’d sung it every morning for many years.
Sarah was happy. Everything was exactly as she remembered it. She felt young again. She was well aware that as a middle aged twenty year old, she was now in the declining years of her life.
Her old classroom lay around three corridors and up a flight of stairs. When she arrived, she looked through the window. Thirty children all sat, facing the front, smiles on their faces. The teacher looked familiar and after several seconds the realization came that it was one of the religious education teachers. Though she could not remember her name, Sarah did wonder just how old the woman must now be.
She listened to the lesson, pressing her ear up hard to the glass. The voice was muffled, but she could make out much of what was said. ‘You will reach the afterlife only if you obey the Guardians. The Guardians ask only that you procreate and not ask any questions. Do your duty! Read your Book of the Guardian at least every month.’
Sarah felt a cold hand on her shoulder and she spun round.
‘You should not be in here!’ It was Mrs. Woolf.
Sarah gathered herself and settled her nerves. ‘Mrs. Woolf, it’s me, Sarah Smith.’ Sarah was astonished at the coldness of her old teacher.
‘You should not be in here! This school is for children!’ The woman spat as she spoke, her teeth had become stained, her skin withered.
‘Mrs Woolf, I used to be a child at this school, don’t you remember me? You taught me sociology.’ How old was this woman? She was older than anybody Sarah had ever seen, probably in her mid to late forties, but there was no way of knowing for sure.
‘Don’t make me call the Guardians.’
How was it possible for Mrs Woolf to change so much in four years? Sarah burst into tears and ran from the school.
Six
It was dark when the three all-terrain vehicles rumbled into the center of the large building.
Mike was pulled from the vehicle by his neck and was then pushed to the side where he stood, unable to see in the black. Then the lights came on. They were in a large enclosed area with a metal roof, like an empty warehouse. All nine of them present; bedraggled, cold, wet, shaken and starving.
A few dozen men stood in threatening proximity, dressed in black, helmets covering their heads. Each held semi-automatic rifles and possessed long blades strapped to their belts.
Mike and his friends were pushed against one of the walls. Their captors really were unbalanced, uncoordinated and slow. Mike wondered how difficult it would be for the nine of them to rush these cripples. Then he realized that no matter what shape these strange men were in, that they themselves were in no shape to attempt to gain an advantage through force. In addition, they had no weapons and such a move would likely be suicide. Mike had made it this far and he had no intention of risking his life, unless of course he knew for sure he was a dead man. He would do whatever it took to make it back to Ohio, back to his family.
Nestor, a Venezuelan of Spanish descent and the one man Mike trusted the most out of their entire band looked toward him. ‘What the fuck is this?’ He said in Spanish.
‘I think maybe they’re gonna kill us!’ Replied Mike in the foreign tongue. He scowled at his tormentors who gathered in a line a few paces in front. They never spoke a word to each other. It was as though they each knew what the other was thinking.
‘But why?’ Nestor had owned a coffee plantation. He worked his entire life in the fields, planting coffee bushes, picking coffee, dragging huge sacks of beans and throwing them on carts. He was a big man, fierce and muscular. He had travelled to Caracas from the mountains to drop off a batch of coffee when the trouble flared. He met Mike while looting a grocery store and together they ventured down into the sewers where they exchanged food with other survivors for a promise of shelter. ‘Come on then, do it!’ Nestor shouted.
Mike looked over his small band of friends. They’d all been through so much shit together. He thought of them as family. It had pained him deeply to see several members of his group dying off one by one. Starvation and cholera were the main killers in the sewers of Caracas. One member had become insane and Mike himself had no choice other than to drown the man in feces to protect the rest of the group. Suicide was another big killer. The remaining nine were mainly broke
n, former men, bereft of spirit. All except for Nestor who even now was shouting at his kidnappers.
Four of those kidnappers now stumbled toward Mike and Nestor. They grabbed the two friends and dragged them by the arms and neck. Mike was struck by their lack of strength. They were feeble. Even now, in his advanced state of emaciation Mike knew he could overpower them. Yet still, he possessed no weapon and so allowed himself, along with Nestor to be pulled along the interior of the building. They were led into an isolated section of the warehouse before two large steel shutters were closed behind them.
From a distance, they had four semi-automatic rifles pointed at them. To Mike, it seemed like they fully realized just how vulnerable they really were.
Nestor laughed. ‘What the fuck are they waiting for? They must have all day!’ He looked to his tormentors and Mike wondered if they were both thinking the same thing, that perhaps they should attempt to break for it.
Nestor took a step in the direction of the closest semi-automatic, which jerked up in response and Nestor checked his step.
Then the volley of fire echoed through the shutters.
Mike’s heart shot into his throat as his clenched fists trembled. It was just the two of them now. Though what he was most afraid of was the reaction from Nestor who’d just heard evidence of the murder of his friends. Although Mike too was incensed at these senseless killings, he knew that blind rage would also get them shot. There was, Mike knew, nothing more powerful than controlled, focused rage.
Nestor screamed at the four men who held guns to their faces. Mike strained to keep his friend in check, preventing him from getting them both killed. ‘Easy, easy. Their time will come.’
Footsteps.
They looked round. A man in a white lab coat stood by a small door. ‘Hello. My name’s Doctor Wienberg.’
Seven
‘I’m so happy you came over.’ Karen gave a hard squeeze to both Sarah and Molly.
‘We’d never miss your big send-off darling, we owe you that.’ Molly wiped away a tear that had run down her cheek. ‘Louise, Meryl, Agatha, Trudy and all the others all wish they could be here too.’
‘Oh, I know how it is. At least my two best girls are here, it really means a lot.’
Three boxes lay on the floor, Karen’s entire life. Sarah looked at them and back to her friend who was genuinely sad to be leaving, yet through the sadness there was much excitement too. ‘How long do we have?’
‘Only a few minutes.’
‘We had some great times didn’t we, some good laughs.’ Molly looked into nothingness, in seeming contemplation of their past.
‘I couldn’t have wished for better friends. But, four litters and that’s my lot.’ Karen said as she held a tissue to her eye.
‘You’ve done your duty, fulfilled your purpose. You can be happy for that.’ Molly beamed at Karen.
‘So, what happens to your things? You can’t take those boxes where you’re going.’ The question had puzzled Sarah since the moment she entered the house. What was the point in packing your belongings for the afterlife?
‘Oh, I’m sure they have procedures for these things, Sarah.’ Molly waved a dismissive hand.
‘Um, well I’m really not sure.’ Karen said. ‘It’s such a minor detail, I’d never given it much thought.’
‘Well, maybe I’d like to keep a little memento of you.’ Sarah gestured toward the boxes. ‘If I’m never going to see you again then I think it’s only right I should have something to remember my friend by.’
‘Sarah! When did you last read your Book of the Guardian?’ Molly snapped. “All traces have to be removed if there is going to be a journey to the afterlife.” Molly said the words as though she was reciting directly from the sacred text. “For if any physical manifestation remains in Clinton County, the soul cannot live on!”
Karen nodded and looked on with a disapproving glare at Sarah. ‘When did you last read the good book, Sarah?’
‘I haven’t read that thing in six months!’
The two girls gasped, Karen covering her mouth with a hand in complete exasperation. ‘Sarah, honey, I would like to see you again in the afterlife. Would you please read the book tonight, I can’t stand the thought of you burning in hell for all eternity.’
‘Look, I just wanted to take something to remember my friend by. Where’s the harm in that?’
‘The harm, Sarah, is that if you truly cared about Karen, you’d be doing all you could to ensure she arrived in the afterlife safely. You’d be helping out, making sure there were no traces left around here for when her replacement arrives.’ Molly wagged her finger at Sarah. ‘I mean, why take the chance, right?’
‘Look girls, I love you both, I didn’t want my last few minutes to be occupied by arguments.’ Karen stooped down and picked up one of the boxes.
‘Aren’t you going to help her?’ Molly’s asked.
Sarah was in deep thought. There had been something on her mind for weeks now, which she’d managed to suppress, but now, with Karen leaving for the afterlife, these thoughts were pushed to the front of her consciousness. ‘Have you ever stopped to wonder just where it is you’re actually going?’
‘Heresy!’ Molly gasped and placed a hand on Karen’s shoulder in support. ‘Heresy can have you taken away, Sarah. The Book of the Guardian states we have a moral obligation to report heretics.’
‘Seriously...When they come for you, where are they taking you? How are you going to get to the afterlife? What are they going to do with your three little boxes?’
A blacked out vehicle pulled up outside the house. Two Guardians opened the doors in calculated unison and walked, half dragging themselves up the path.
‘I can’t listen to this now.’ Karen looked away from Sarah and spoke only to Molly, ‘This is my moment, now, it’s here, it all comes down to this. I love you.’
‘I will see you on the other side darling.’ Molly embraced Karen, before jumping out of the way as the front door swung open.
Karen looked at Sarah, ‘Please, please mend your ways.’
The two Guardians stooped down, picking up a box each. Sarah could swear she heard a bone crack under the strain. For the masters of Clinton County, they sure were feeble. One of them looked in Sarah’s direction, though she could not see its eyes, she did for the first time wonder what lay behind the mask. She realized this was the closest she’d ever been to a Guardian. What stood out, even more than their inefficiency, was the odor. Even through their thick and tight one-piece black suits, which betrayed genitalia alien to her own, Sarah was struck by the stench of decay.
Sarah and Molly watched as Karen was escorted between the two black-clad Guardians toward the vehicle. She clambered into the back seat, the doors shut and the vehicle rolled slowly down the road.
Karen had left for the afterlife.
Eight
Mike, Nestor and Doctor Weinberg had sat down and eaten a meal together. Mike was surprised at the quality of food on offer, considering the end of the world had already past and he now lived in the post-apocalyptic era. There’d been omega-3 and zinc capsules handed out like candy, which puzzled Mike.
He noticed how Doctor Weinberg paid close attention to them as they ate. He also wanted to know their back-story. Where had they come from? How had they survived? Were there any more survivors? – Fairly standard questions.
But then Weinberg had asked ever more strange questions. Were they healthy? Had they taken any soy products in the last few months? Did they ever go long periods with a laptop on their crotch? Did they keep a cell phone in their pants pocket? What sexually transmitted diseases had they suffered from? Had they ever taken part in full-contact sports? Were they ever keen cyclists? Did they smoke? What was their alcohol intake? Had they ever taken drugs? Did they suffer from stress? Had they ever been kicked in the balls? Did they wear tight pants? Had they been given the snip?
‘Don’t worry about him, he’s clearly insane!’ Nestor told Mike as they followed W
einberg down a corridor. ‘What me and my wife did in the privacy of our home is not any of that sick bastard’s business!’
‘This whole place is strange, I’m not sure much adds up.’
‘You got that damn right!’
‘I mean, why the hell is it just us two here? Why kill the rest and save us?’
Weinberg turned to them. ‘This is where you’ll be spending much of your time.’ He turned the handle to the room, opening the door.
‘Well that’s news to me.’ Nestor said as the door opened and he peered inside.
‘This way.’ Weinberg gestured the two men through the door.
Mike drew in breath sharply. What he saw was not necessarily over or underwhelming. It was just a surprise.
They were in a large gym. The gym contained all the most modern and up-to-date equipment Mike used five-times a week, every week back in Ohio. What struck Mike about the room were two things. One; At least two dozen of the same black-clad retards from earlier lined the walls, staring into the room obliviously. Two; The stench. It was a disgusting mix of sweat, intense body odor and decay. Rot and mortification mixed with putridity. ‘Did the air-con break?’ Mike asked Weinberg, who ignored the insolence.
They walked further into the room until they reached a row of ten treadmills. Each had a man running on the machine. Each man wore some of the baggiest shorts Mike had ever seen, shorts they’d not get away with wearing back in rural Ohio. How could they exert such energy in a room that was so difficult to breathe in?
Weinberg paid attention to the ten men, who then elicited such a strange reaction to being watched that it made Mike wonder just who Weinberg was and what power he held. Four of the men puffed out their chests, correcting their form and running technique. Then the men increased the speed or incline of their machines.
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