Red Walker

by Scott Allen

  The man stirred and said, “Huh? Who the hell are you?” But he didn’t move.

  “My name is Dana. I’m running, just like you. I don’t want to hurt you, I want to help you get that neck ring off. You’ll have to trust me.”

  The man turned slightly and Dana pushed the knife a little bit into his flesh. The man relaxed. “Okay! I’ll trust you! How are you going to get the ring off?” He had also covered his face and arms with mud. Dana realized with satisfaction that both of them must be nearly invisible on a dark night in their black clothing.

  “I have a tool that I hid on the other side of the brook. Stay here, don’t move, and I’ll come back with it,” said Dana. The man nodded assent.

  Dana took the gun, crossed the brook, and found his backpack. He called across the brook, “What’s your name?”

  “Alden,” the man replied.

  Dana took out the ring removal tool, and returned with the tool and the knife, leaving the weapon with the backpack. “What you have to do, Alden, is to stay perfectly still. I have to find the points on your neck ring where this tool fits, and then activate the tool. You’ll feel some heat. Just be still.” Dana felt the back of the neck ring until he found the small indentations. He put the back edge of the knife in his mouth, and then applied the tool for a minute, and the ring sprang open.

  Alden gave a muted “Yahoo! For the first time in 30 years, I’m free of that damn thing! Thanks, man! They can’t stop me now!” He rubbed the places on his neck that had been covered by the ring.

  “Alden, just stay where you are, and I’ll bring over some food and water and we can talk, OK?” said Dana. Alden agreed.

  Dana splashed over the brook and got his backpack and the weapon, and brought them back to the clearing, staying about 5 meters away from Alden. He propped the weapon up against a tree, and opened his backpack. He tossed Alden a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water, being careful to hold the big knife in the other hand, and keep his eyes on Alden the whole time.

  While Alden ate, Dana asked him how he had come to run. Between bites, Alden told his story. “I lived in a dorm in Arkansas, near the Oklahoma border. My occupation was repairing drones. For twenty-five years, I repaired drones, mostly the wild bird type with cameras in them. With a bunch of other guys, I worked in a big, open building. I never knew what all those circuits and chips in them did, but I had manuals on how to diagnose problems and replace chips, wings, battery packs, and stuff. These drones sometimes have artificial intelligence in them, and they can be let loose to fly around until their batteries are running low, looking for anything out of the ordinary, which they transmit back to the army or to Male Control. They come back to their home station when they need a recharge every day. The AI in them is smart enough to recognize if a man is behaving suspiciously, and the military drones can recognize enemy personnel and equipment. When we thought we had one fixed, we would set it to fly around the big room, where there were manikins of men walking around at one end of the building, and life-size mock-ups of various military equipment at the other. When they sent the right signals back to the viewscreen we used to control them, we could ship them back for use. Of course, we were always supervised by an army of matrons, and searched before we left the building. We were working dawn to sundown shifts because of the war. I don’t know if the other guys did, but I started trying to put them back together so that they would probably break down in flight. They would have killed me for that, but I didn’t care anymore.

  “Last week, a missile, I think, hit the main power station nearby, which was in Oklahoma, while we were at work. The power went out completely. The matrons disappeared. We all took off, but I think most of the guys just went back to their dorms. I took a couple of control viewscreens and ran. I can tap into any nearby drone and see what it sees. So far, there aren’t any MC or military drones looking around in this area.”

  Dana asked, “How did you get your ankle ring and wrist ring off?”

  Alden chuckled. “I learned a trick. Every time I had a new set of hardware put on, I would tighten the muscles in my wrist and ankle so that they were bigger than normal. I practiced that a lot. That meant the rings were slightly loose. When I got out of the building and found a quiet place, I pulled them over my foot and my hand. It wasn’t easy. I scraped off a lot of skin. If there was enough light, you could see the big scabs that are forming. It was excruciating. But, of course, I had no way to get off the neck ring, until you came along. I figured, as soon as the power came back on, I was toast, because they’d track me with my neck ring. But, now I can put a lot of kilometers between me and it, and they’ll come running here and find nothing.”

  Dana said, “Why didn’t you run straight for Texas?”

  Alden jaw stiffened, as if he were grinding his teeth. “Because I wanted to kill as many women as I could! I’ve been traveling west. Every day, when the sun goes down, I’ve been marking the place where it set, and I’ve done my best to travel west all night, looking for women to kill. They took everything from me! I’ve had to obey their stupid Rules, and when I didn’t, I’ve been shocked so bad I thought I was going to die! It was no way for a man to live. So, I’m taking my revenge. The first one I killed was a soldier standing guard at an intersection. I waited until there was no traffic, and then threw a big rock that hit her in the head. I took her gun,” he pointed to the weapon leaning against the tree, “and shot her, and left her in the middle of the intersection. I’ve killed several women, usually in isolated houses, every night since then. I shoot the ones who have control boxes on them. The young ones without control boxes nearby, I rape first, and then shoot them. You wouldn’t believe how good that feels. I’m going to do that until they corner me, and then shoot myself. I’ll have a hell of a time until they get me!”

  Dana said, “So, you must be the one that patrol was searching for today, who nearly caught me. I heard their leader say that they were looking for a man, just one. After they killed my friend, and a woman who helped us, they seemed to think they were done, because they didn’t do any more searching.”

  Alden smiled. “Yep, I bet that was me. Glad I could cause a stir. Sorry about your friends, though. Now, if you’ll hand back my gun, I’ll be on my way. Once I get through this forest, I bet I can kill at least three women tonight.”

  Dana had made a decision. “Alden, I will give you food and a water purification straw, and a tarp to hide under, but I won’t give you back your gun. It is just too likely you would shoot me.” He saw Alden eyeing the gun behind him, and waggled the big knife. “Don’t even think about it, Alden. You can kill the first soldier you see and take another gun.” Dana threw the items to Alden, keeping his eyes on him the entre time.

  Alden got up slowly, staring intently at Dana. “Alright. I guess I can’t hate you, because you got me out of that neck ring. That might give me a few days extra, and I might get to kill another dozen women. I’d better get started. Good luck to you, Dana.” He turned west and walked away. Then, he stopped. “Hey, Dana, why don’t you join me? You and I could kill and rape a dozen of these bitches apiece. We could watch each other’s backs. C’mon, man!”

  “No,” said Dana. “I don’t want any part of killing the innocent. These … girls … in those houses and standing guard at the intersections are just brainwashed kids. I would only kill one of them in self-defense. I might want to kill the women who made the decisions, but not the ones you’re raping and killing. Not me.” Alden stared at him for a moment.

  Dana watched him walk away in the dark. As before, he made a hell of a racket as he walked, so Dana was fairly sure Alden was at least 50 meters away when he picked up the pack and the gun, and started moving silently east. He knew that, at some point, the authorities would find the neck ring, and they would know by then that Alden was moving west. Dana needed to get out of the zone they would be searching. It would also be a good idea to keep Alden from finding him, since Alden would think he was headed due south. As he walked, he reali
zed he should have bargained the supplies that he had given Alden for one of his drone control screens.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  He wasn’t sure what to think about Alden. On the one hand, the man’s rage and desire for revenge were understandable, especially since he had spent two decades more than Dana under the thumb of Male Control, and was due to be killed in about seven years. His whole life had been a waste, because of the way men were treated. That would be enough to enrage anyone into insanity. He was clearly deranged. He had wanted to shoot the deer, but why? He had no tools to butcher it, and it would have been sheer folly to light a fire to cook it. So why shoot it? Just for the pleasure of killing? Dana shook his head.

  There was something revolting about a man who lived only for revenge killing. Dana reflected that the women Alden had raped and killed were part of the same system he was, a system that poured hatred down on men and made women fear them. They didn’t deserve death for being what they were made to be.

  He calculated he had moved about five kilometers east, when he emerged from the forest into farm fields. The second target house was now more than twenty kilometers away to the southwest. He decided to move south again, staying on the edge of the forest where he could move faster, and then go back into the forest to hide for the day. He had probably gone another five kilometers to the south when he detected a faint light in the east, and turned into the forest. He reached an area with lots of underbrush and prepared his hidden sleeping arrangements. Then, he decided to take a good look at the gun.

  He assumed this was the rail rifle Marjorie had spoken of. He shined his hand-light on it. Obviously, one end of it was meant to be put against his shoulder, and the other end was the business end. The whole thing was about 75 centimeters long. The gun was almost entirely heavy-duty black plastic, except that he detected something weighty in the shoulder part, and also in the long part that stuck out in front. There was a flat switch on the side. It said, “select.” The select switch could be moved from “safety” to “single” to “triple” to “continuous.” Below the switch was something that he suspected was the trigger. He had heard about such a thing.

  He put the back of the rifle against his shoulder, and pulled on the trigger. Nothing. He looked at the gun again, and moved the select switch from safety to single. He heard a short high-pitched whine, which he recognized as a capacitor charging. He tried again, aiming at a tree. “Pftt.” “Whack!” The bullet had hit the tree and made quite a hole, showering splinters everywhere. Dana moved the selector switch to “triple,” aimed at a spot on a tree trunk about 50 meters away, and pulled the trigger again. “Pftt, pftt, pftt, whack, whack, whack!” Exactly where he had aimed. The insect sounds of the forest were gone, and all around him was dead quiet. He did hear the buzzing of mosquitoes near his ear. They had not bothered him as much before, but this evening they were getting very annoying.

  Dana decided to inspect the rifle more carefully. He threw his tarp over himself and relit his hand-light. He put the safety on. There was a door on the rifle in the side of the back portion that he rested his shoulder against. He opened it, and found it full of small, pointed, bright steel bullets, hundreds of them. On the other side of the rifle there was a button that said “Battery.” Dana pressed it and a small display lit up, indicating 90% battery life remaining. Now that he knew he could defend himself against at least one soldier, he felt less fearful.

  In fact, he thought to himself, if it weren’t for the fact that he could be killed at any moment, he would be enjoying this. It was exhilarating to be out in the forest, rambling here and there, walking where he wanted, eating when he liked, breathing in the fresh air and the smells of the trees, plants, and earth. He felt good and he felt strong, despite his fear. He felt like he had been missing this sort of rambling all his life. Most of all, there was no one telling him what to do. He was free. He thought of the life he had left only two days ago, and how he had drifted through that life taking little pleasures in making appliances work when he was told to, and living in fear of making a wrong gesture or saying the wrong thing. That all seemed a flat and pointless existence now. There was so much more to life than that. Everyone, he thought, should be able to experience freedom and the joy and confidence that came with it. Everyone ought to be able to decide what they thought and what they wanted to do with their lives. They ought to be able to say exactly what they wanted and do exactly what they wanted. But, as far as he could tell, no one in the United States, with the possible exception of a few dominant women, were free.

  He decided that, even if he were to be caught and killed, running had been worth it for even a few days of freedom. He could never return to his old life. Death would be preferable. He had seen people die, now, and it was less mysterious. Still horrible, but preferable to his old life. He had at least that much in common with Alden.

  Dana thought that was enough for the night, covered up his tarp with brush, and slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  That evening, well-rested, he waited until dark, and listened carefully to the sounds of the forest. Birds sang, insects chirped, and somewhere there was a sound he thought might be a bullfrog calling. He checked the GPS unit and map under the tarp. He had 15 kilometers to go to the second target house, some of it through the forest, some of it through fields, and there was a long detour around a town. The older middle-aged friend of Marjorie, named Bertha, lived in a farmhouse to the south of that town.

  Dana got started, picking his way down trails to the southwest, practicing his silent movement as much as possible, carrying the rifle with a two-handed grip. He had to double back a couple of times when trails dead-ended, but he was still on track to reach Bertha’s house before dawn. As he passed out of the forest, about midnight, he could see the lights of a small town a few kilometers to the southwest. The power was back on. He turned due south to skirt the town, crossing roads with care, looking for cover in trees, riverbeds, and corn. He rubbed riverbed mud on his face to conceal it in the moonlight. There was traffic on the roads, and that slowed him down. From places of concealment, he could see that the traffic was nearly all military. Busses carried soldiers south, and canvas-covered trucks with large red crosses on the side were moving north. Strangely, he heard no explosions. He must be too far from the fighting, he thought.

  The farmhouse had only a faint light coming from it. Dana wondered if the power was still out in this area. He knocked, and knocked again. Finally, the light over the door came on, and the door opened a crack. “Who are you? I have a gun!” said a female voice.

  “Bertha, I’m a friend of Marjorie’s,” said Dana. “She said you might give me a safe place to hole up during the day.” Dana suddenly realized that he must be a sight, with mud on his face, carrying a rifle.

  “Back up a little,” Bertha said. She could see him more clearly, but was still suspicious. “Put your gun down.” Dana did. “Now, tell me what Marjorie looks like.”

  Dana did his best to describe Marjorie, and Bertha seemed satisfied. Then, she asked, “What is Marjorie’s address?” Dana told her. “What was her husband’s name and how many children did they have?”

  When Dana said, “Bob, two girls and then two boys,” Bertha relaxed.

  “Okay, come on in. Leave the gun outside.” she said. She was a large woman, a bit taller than Dana, and definitely much wider. They sat down in the living room of the little farmhouse, and Bertha turned on some table lamps. She began to sit down, but then suddenly got up and went around the room, closing drapes. “Don’t want anyone to see in,” she explained. “Oh, my manners! You must be famished! Take a shower in the bathroom and I’ll cook you something! Oh, and you can bring your gun in.”

  In the bathroom, while he was getting dressed again in his filthy clothes, he smelled something good cooking, but he couldn’t decide what it was. It made his mouth water. When he returned to the kitchen, Bertha was putting something onto plates. “I’m not much of a cook,” she laughed, “but I can
do breakfast.” She pointed to his plate, and pointed out bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. There were lots of each, overflowing the plate. After a tentative bite of each, Dana was overwhelmed by hunger, and began eating rapidly. “Well, that’s quite a compliment to my cooking,” Bertha said, laughing again, “I’ll make some more, but then I have to go to work.” Another overflowing plate was soon set before him, and Dana ate until he felt he might pop. Bertha beamed at him as he ate.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Ma’am.” Said Dana. “I’ve never had food like that.”

  “I’m glad. It was my husband’s favorite breakfast. He only got it for a few years, though, before they took him away from me.” She paused, her smile disappeared, and her lip began to tremble. “You never know how good it is until it’s all gone.” She turned away from him, shoulders slumped, hands to her face.

  When she had regained her composure, she checked her wristband, and said, “Well, like I said, I have to be at work pretty soon. I think you’ll be safe in the house, and I’ll be back before dark. Keep the drapes completely closed, stay inside. Don’t answer the door. You can sleep in the spare bedroom, the left one down the hall. Follow me.” She walked down the hall, waved at the bedroom on the left, and then continued on to a door. “This is the back door. If you hear anyone coming other than me, slip out into those woods and keep quiet. You’ll know it’s me, because the garage door will make a screeching noise when it goes up. Oh, and there’s the washing machine and the dryer. You’re welcome to use them.”

  “Where do you work, Bertha?” asked Dana.

  “In town,” she said, “I repair vehicles, actually just the small personal ones. Mostly I replace batteries and electric motors and ship the old ones off for reconditioning. Lately I’ve had some work from the military. Their top officers have personal vehicles.”