Alyssa finally fell into a fitful sleep, filled with nightmares of her body being ripped apart in a bloody barn by figures dressed in odd clothing. She jerked awake and stared up at the night sky. The sky was ablaze with stars, a few clouds flying across that infinite landscape. The compound was quiet, except for the sound of the children in the cages that were awake and crying.
Alyssa tried the door of the cage she was in, pushing her cybernetic arm harder than she ever had. Slowly she could see the bar begin to bend. She stopped when a man walked out of the adjacent building. He walked down the line of cages, peering into each of the occupied ones.
“Please, let me go,” one of the children pleaded. “I miss my mommy. Please, let me go see my mommy.”
The man stopped and kicked the cage, making the child cringe in terror.
“Your mother doesn’t matter any longer, child,” the man said harshly. “Only our Lord.”
The child curled himself into a ball and wept. The man shrugged and walked on, checking some of the locks. Alyssa watched his mouth move as he counted each of the occupied cages as he passed by them. He reached the man who had been talking to her earlier in the day and stopped.
“Wake up, old man,” the cultist said with a kick.
The older man in the cage stirred and looked up at the cultist.
“What do you want?” the man asked.
“Are you ready to accept the Lord and his truths?” the cultist asked.
“Boy,” the man said, “if your momma was still alive, she’d be ashamed of you.”
The cultist savagely kicked the cage, and the older man laughed.
“Why don’t you let me out of the cage, son, and I’ll show you that your old man can still kick your ass,” the man said.
“I’m no longer your son,” the cultist said. “You’ll be the first into the Redemption Shed tomorrow, old man.”
Alyssa stared at the older man as the young cultist walked away. The man stared back, his face hard.
“I’m so sorry,” Alyssa said to him.
“Why?” the man said. “You don’t know me. Don’t feel pity for me lady. It’s not often a man gets to know when he will die.”
Alyssa started to respond, but the man rolled over and quickly went back to sleep. Alyssa sat against the bars of her cage and wondered if she could bend them enough to allow her to slip through. She started to bend another bar when another cultist exited one of the crude buildings and walked past the cages. She spent a fitful night waiting for the right time to try to force her way out, but there was always at least one cultist watching them.
A kick against the bars of her cage woke her in the morning. A female cultist passed her a small cup of gruel through the bars, as well as a cup filled with water. Alyssa looked at the slimy substance in the cup and dumped it out. She sniffed the water before letting a bit pass her lips to wet her dry mouth and throat. The older man next to her downed the gruel and water and tossed the cups back through the bars.
“Not the best last meal a man could ask for,” the man joked.
Three cultists, one of them the man’s son, exited from what his son had called the Redemption Shed. They walked over and stopped in front of the cage the man sat in. One of the men bent down, unlocked the door, and motioned for the man to crawl out.
“Guess you grew some balls after all,” the man spat at his son.
The two cultists attempted to grab the man’s arms. He slipped by them and delivered a vicious kick to his son’s crotch. The two cultists bumped into one another, and the man’s son crumpled to the ground with a yelp of pain. The older man bent down and scooped up the club his son had been carrying.
The two cultists untangled themselves and charged the man. He took a batter’s stance and swung the club. The crack of the club as it impacted one of the cultist’s skulls made Alyssa wince. The other cultist slammed into the man, bringing him to the ground. They rolled around, exchanging punches, until the older man bit the cultist’s ear and tore it in half in a splash of blood.
The cultist rolled away, clutching his bleeding ear. A female cultist raised the alarm, and others began to charge over. The man stood up, picked up the club, and brought it down on the head of the cultist who’s ear he had torn in half. The crunch of the skull being fractured sickened Alyssa. The man turned and approached his son, who was pushing himself to his feet. Two other cultists approached the man from behind, but before they could lay hands on him, he brought the club around in an overhead swing and connected with the side of his son’s head.
The man dropped the club and turned as the two fresh cultists slammed into him, the three tumbling to the ground. The two cultists bounced to their feet and started to kick the downed man. Other cultists soon joined them, kicking him and beating him with clubs, until an ancient looking woman appeared at the door of the Redemption Shed.
“Enough!” the old woman said. Her voice carried over the shouts of the men and women, and they quickly stopped what they were doing. The old woman walked toward them, and they parted for her, exposing the man, beaten and bloody on the ground.
“Does he live?” she asked.
One of the cultists crouched down and touched the man on the neck. He looked up and shook his head in the negative.
“Take his body to the pyre,” the old woman said. “Tonight, we send those that will not repent to our God to be judged.”
Three of the male cultists picked up the corpse and carried it to the pyre. Alyssa pressed herself against the back of the cage, keeping her head down.
“No more interruptions,” the old woman said. “Bring me the next sinner.”
For the rest of the morning, Alyssa watched the cultists take the others into the shed, one at a time, the scenario playing out the same as the previous night. Some went free, the clothing of the cult in their arms, others were returned to their cages. The old woman’s words echoed in Alyssa’s head, and she looked in terror at the pyre, and those that were returned to their cages.
Finally, they came for her. They opened her cage, and she crawled out. For a moment, she thought about fighting them, but she decided not to. Maybe, if she could grab the old woman, she could use her to get out of here. They led her into the Redemption Shed. Inside, the old woman sat in a simple wooden chair. Directly across from her, another simple wooden chair sat empty. Three large men and two large women flanked the old woman.
“Sit,” the old woman demanded.
Alyssa sat and kept her eyes down.
“What is your name?” the old woman asked.
“Alyssa.”
“Are you a sinner, Alyssa? Don’t answer. You are a sinner. We are all sinners. The question you need to ask yourself is, will you ask our Lord for forgiveness for your sins? Will you give up the evil that is technology and live as our Lord God has demanded we live? Will you do that Alyssa?”
Alyssa looked up at the old woman.
“I can’t live without technology,” Alyssa mumbled.
One of the large women stepped up and slapped Alyssa across the face.
“Speak up,” the large woman demanded.
“I can’t live without technology,” Alyssa spat and reached out with her cybernetic arm. She grabbed the large woman by the wrist and jerked. There was a loud pop and crack, and the large woman stumbled back, screaming in pain.
“Abomination!” the old woman screamed, and the world exploded around them.
* * *
David watched the camp on the screen of the drone controller. He watched as the mob of cultists beat the man to death and dumped his body with a few others on the pyre. He left the drone to loiter over the area and unpacked the rest of the tiny attack drones from their case, activating them. Seven more drones rose into the air and followed the signal of their counterpart hovering over the camp.
He armed the drones, entered the attack order, and dropped the controller to the ground. He unslung the battle rifle, double checked that the magazine was set firmly, and flicked the selector
to three round bursts. With a grim look, David took off toward the camp. The drones dived in, each one targeting a separate cultist, before they detonated the small amount of high explosive they carried.
David entered the camp seconds after the drones exploded. Bleeding, broken cultists lay on the ground, dead or dying. Others rushed to their aid. David brought the rifle to his shoulder and stroked the trigger. Three rounds of high velocity lead exited the barrel and impacted center mass of the closest cultist. He managed to kill three more before the others realized there was a threat in their midst.
A hard-swung club caught him in the upper back and caused him to stumble. He let the rifle drop, its sling keeping it close to his body, and turned in time to take the next swing on his right forearm. He pushed forward, inside the swing of the attacker, pulled one of the knives he carried, and buried it to the hilt in the cultist’s torso. He pushed the surprised, mortally wounded cultist to the ground.
He brought the rifle back to his shoulder and started to shoot more of the cultists. The cultists fled from the violent onslaught David brought to their camp. Helpless families and people scraping by were easy targets, but an enraged, heavily armed man was another matter. The ones who were willing to die for their god were dead or bleeding out on the ground, while the rest fled into the woods.
David spun around as a door slammed open behind him. A woman stumbled out of a rundown building, her arm bent at a wrong angle, blood pouring from her nose. A scream of rage echoed from within the building, and a man tumbled out the door, head over heels. David kicked the man in the face, knocking him out, as he entered the building, his rifle at the ready.
Alyssa was backed against the wall, her cybernetic hand around the throat of an old woman she was using as a human shield. An extremely large man stood with his back to the door, threatening Alyssa with a long blade.
“Let the Prophet go, and I’ll make sure your death is quick,” the man said.
David whistled. The man jerked around, startled, and David put a three-round burst into his upper torso. The large man looked down in surprise at the holes that appeared in his chest, started to walk towards David, and collapsed to the ground. Alyssa let out a shout of surprise and threw the old woman to the ground.
“David!” she shouted. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He let the rifle drop and embraced his wife, covering her face in kisses, while he stroked her hair.
“Never leave me like that again,” David said.
“I was so scared,” Alyssa replied. “I watched them kill a man. They were going to kill me.”
David stroked her hair and squeezed her into his body.
“It’s over now,” David said. “I don’t think these freaks will be messing with anyone for a while.”
Alyssa pushed away from him and wiped her eyes.
“It’s not over yet,” Alyssa said. She turned and looked at the old woman leaning against the wall. Alyssa walked over and lifted the woman from the ground. “She has to pay for what she has done.”
They marched the woman outside and dumped her on the ground in front of the freed captives. David walked along the cages, unlocking them, freeing those still locked up. Alyssa kicked the old woman to the ground in front of them. One of the children, a young boy, approached Alyssa and grabbed her hand.
“Is my mommy inside?” the young boy asked.
Alyssa crouched down in front of the boy and took his hands in hers. She stared at the old woman, who returned her gaze with cold defiance.
“I am sorry,” Alyssa said. “Your mom is gone.”
“Gone?” the boy asked in a whisper.
“She’s dead,” Alyssa replied sadly. “This woman killed her.”
“Why?” the boy asked, tears streaming down his face.
“Because she is an evil person,” Alyssa said. “Before the bombs, someone like her would have found justice for the crimes she has committed. In this Fallen World, justice is a rare thing. I’m not going to take your justice from you. The old woman is yours.”
The boy looked from the old woman to Alyssa.
“I want my momma back.” The boy looked at Alyssa with eyes that had seen more than a child his age should have. He pointed at the old woman. “She needs to burn.”
An older woman walked out of the crowd and approached the boy. She gave Alyssa a slight nod and put her hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“We’ll deal with the crone,” the woman said.
“What about the boy?” Alyssa asked.
“He’ll be taken care of,” the woman said. “I knew his mother. The boy will be safe with us.”
Alyssa nodded her head, took David’s hand in hers, and they walked out of the camp. The old woman spat and cursed at the crowd as they closed in on her. Alyssa stopped after they were a way out from the camp and turned to look back. A column of black smoke billowed into the air.
“Now it is over,” Alyssa said.
* * * * *
Joseph Capdepon, II Bio
Joseph Capdepon II lives a bit north of Houston, Texas with his wife, daughter, two standard poodles, ten hens, two ducks, and a very serious goose. When not at his day job, making sure his daughter doesn't crawl off the side of cliffs, or having to pet two needy dogs, he spends his time listening to the voices in his head, or writing as some people call it. He is currently working on his first novel while writing short stories.
* * * * *
Mr. Smith Goes to Toronto by Alex Rath
Part 1
I had prepared as much as I possibly could for the end. I knew it would happen eventually, having held the positions I had throughout my career. Sure enough, some idiot had decided they could actually win a nuclear war…moron.
I sighed as I booted up one of the computers I’d acquired before the end, something most people didn’t have anymore. I was happy to stick to myself. I’d scouted the city since the fall, and it wasn’t pretty. Raw human nature had taken over, and it was survival of the fittest or, at least, the best armed.
I had taken several years to build the underground compound I now called home, and I wasn’t particularly inclined to share. I had figured it several times, and I had enough supplies to last me until I died at a nice old age. I still went out to hunt now and then—fresh meat was good. I had set up a garden once, but that didn’t last long. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d picked some of the produce and moved on, but the idiots trashed it, and I didn’t have any more seeds.
Before the end, I’d bought every electronic book there was and every video game I could find. I was determined not to be bored. I was just about to decide which non-war game to play, when a siren caused me to frown. One of the pressure sensors near the door leading down to my compound had been tripped, but that was a final line sensor. Someone had gotten past all the rest. Shit.
I tabbed over, pulled up the security cameras, and frowned. There were two men in surprisingly clean digital camo and tactical gear. Both had MP-5 submachine guns slung across their chests and pistols at their sides, and one had what might have been the case for a very powerful sniper rifle over his shoulder. They were both looking at a well-concealed pinhole camera.
I keyed the microphone on the desk. “You know I’m here. What do you want?”
The man without the sniper rifle did the talking. “You’re a hard man to find Mr.…?”
They didn’t know exactly who I was, maybe. I’d had many names, so the question could mean several things. “You can call me Mr. Smith. What do you want?”
“We need your particular skill set, Mr. Smith.”
I looked at the sensors on the pressure plate to confirm my assumption that they were the kind of people I had hoped would never find me. They weighed twice as much as men their size should, which meant they were either Agents or Specialists, like me. Neither was a particularly good option.
“Which one?”
They looked at each other for a moment, then back down at the camera. They were both wearing throat micropho
nes, so they could have been talking to each other, and I would never have heard it.
“Any chance we can talk face to face?”
I shook my head, even though they couldn’t see me. “I have a good idea of what you are, and you obviously have some idea of who I am, so I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t like the idea of coming up there and getting shot, and I don’t like the idea of letting you down here to shoot me. So, let’s just chat this way for now, eh?”
“If you know what we are, you know we could come in whether you want us to or not.”
He wasn’t lying. They knew they’d get badly hurt, or even killed, but I had a bad feeling they were on a mission, which they would accomplish one way or another.
“Get to the point. I’m busy. What do you want?”
“There is unexploded ordnance at CFB Trenton, and we need it disarmed.”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s likely lots of unexploded ordnance there. Just blow it.”
“We’d prefer not to blow an unexploded nuclear device, Mr. Smith.”
I leaned back in my chair. Shit. I’d built my compound here because I knew Canadian Forces Base Trenton would be on the strike list, and I would be in a safe zone. I hadn’t minded when I figured out it hadn’t been hit, but it never occurred to me there was a dud nuke.
“I’m safe, here, why should I care?”
“Mr. Smith, there are lots of innocents in range of that device. The war is over. People in Toronto are trying to rebuild some semblance of a normal life. We’ve been tasked with making sure they get the chance to do that.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and considered. I didn’t want to care. I wanted to tell them to be on their way. I wanted to trigger the explosives they were standing on, but I wasn’t like them. Agents were programmed for their tasks. They could be programmed not to care about human life. I wasn’t. I was very good at many things, and I had a photographic memory. I could remember everything I’d seen after the completion of my training.
From the Ashes Page 20
