Exodus

by Brian P. White

  “What are you waiting for?” the Gamesman snapped at them. “Do what he said.”

  The jexes quickly tugged Didi to her feet.

  Nick flipped the cut-off switch and pointed at Cynthia. “Get in front of her and hold her head down. I need to get into the back of her neck.”

  She cautiously approached but had trouble getting around Didi’s snapping jaws. She clapped her hands at her left side, which drew the snarling zombie’s attention away just long enough for her to grab the head and force it down.

  Nick yanked Didi’s choker off and dropped it on the backpack. He grabbed the scalpel, carefully cut behind her ear, and pulled back the coated skin to reveal the small ring around her N.S.U. The wire was completely burnt, as was some of that wrinkly cerebellum. “Keep her steady,” he ordered as he cut out a large part of the main cable with his hobby knife.

  Cynthia put all of her weight into his demand, but the zombie’s nonstop thrashing wore her out quickly, and the Pashtun seemed to be taking his time exposing the brain and body wires. “I can’t hold this much longer,” she grunted.

  Nick ducked back into his bag, pulled out a few extra wires, and cut the sheath to expose silvery wire. “Almost there. Just another minute.”

  “I may not have another—minute,” she grunted with a particularly strong jolt from Didi.

  He placed the new wires between the zombie’s brain and body wires, quickly spliced them, and backed up. “The switch on the casing; turn it on.”

  Cynthia glared at the social retard. “Little busy. You do it.”

  “Do I look strong enough to hold her head?”

  She groaned, released Didi’s head, and reached into the open chest, but she paused at seeing the rabid face of the Death Doll. This monster killed her beloved Kenny, outsmarting his pride with her dead body. Then it reached Cynthia’s heart after literally saving her ass; the believer who refused to let her own morals die with her. Now, it was a mindless beast. She couldn’t have that; Didi deserved better. She ducked under those jaws, felt around until her hand landed on the switch, and flipped it before falling backward.

  Didi convulsed in the jexes’ grasp, jerking so hard they lost their grip. She fell like a log and writhed, kicking up sand all over the cage and into her open wounds.

  Everyone gawked in wide-eyed wonder, especially Cynthia.

  Didi’s fits eventually slowed, the jolts becoming sparse yet still violent. Her gravelly mindless gave way to pained grunts as she stopped twitching and grabbed her head.

  The arena grew dead silent until everyone slowly closed in on her, the two jexes cradling their guns warily as their two buddies returned. The Gamesman looked intrigued.

  Then the dead woman picked her face up out of the sand and looked around with confusion. Then she licked at her upper lip, rolled her eyes, and groaned. “How many did I get?”

  Everyone sighed with relief, including the Gamesman.

  Cynthia hugged Didi tightly, which collapsed the filling-free waist right into the spine and power box. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  That hand stroked her hair. “But you brought me back, didn’t you?”

  Cynthia reared her head and smiled gratefully.

  Nick smiled, too, just before he sliced the throat of the nearest jex with his hobby knife. He moved on to the next, but the guy grabbed him by the throat and wrested him off his feet. Didi drew her sword, cut down the jex throttling Nick, and made short work of the last two. Another jex ran into the cage, but Cynthia jumped him and ripped out his throat with her bare hands.

  The Gamesman tried to run until his jexes got shot down around him. He anxiously backed into the bullpen door, then reached for whatever would open it.

  “Hold it there, Superstar,” Aaron shouted from the stands as he and his brother made their way down the stairs with their rifles aimed at the Gamesman, who planted his back against the bullpen door without a jex coming to save him. Cynthia was glad the twins could do this right.

  Didi put her choker back on and sauntered up to him with her sword at the ready, leaving her stuffing in the cage. Yet, for some reason, he smiled like it all amused him.

  “That’s twice we’ve aced you on your own turf,” she said. “Do we need to do this again?”

  The Gamesman smirked. “I’ll keep coming for you anyway.”

  Didi placed her blade against the Gamesman’s throat. “Then maybe I should end this here.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve been ready for four years.”

  Everyone gawked at the cryptic despot, but Cynthia grasped his meaning like the thorny stem of a rose, his whole guise suddenly making sense.

  Didi caught it, too, as she lowered her blade with a sympathetic gaze. “Cancer?”

  The Gamesman nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. “Yet the world died instead of me. It told me I wasn’t done for; that I had power. I used it to lead the frightened masses into rebuilding life here. I built this city; it’s mine. This is my time!”

  Didi smacked the Gamesman upside the head with the blunt side of her sword, startling everyone as the megalomaniac fell unconscious.

  “But it’s still God’s world,” she said as she sheathed her sword. “Let’s go.”

  The A-Twins followed Didi to the exit while Nick picked up all his stuff.

  While picking up Didi’s stuffing, Cynthia marveled at her victory. She and Nick got in and fixed Didi, Sean’s mad drive through all the nearby markets drew the numbers in here down, and the twins actually worked together to help free the Death Doll. Her “hair-brained” scheme worked, but it didn’t all go the way she expected.

  She caught up to Didi with all the polyurethane sheets in her grasp. “Why leave him alive?”

  “Mercy,” Didi said without breaking her stride.

  “Where was that mercy for Clay?” she asked, then realized how bitchy that sounded.

  Didi’s eyes fell, tinged with guilt as being called on her swift execution of one of Cynthia’s fellow infiltrators. “He was infected,” the dead woman said with steeled eyes as she walked away. “When you’re infected, you’re already dead.”

  Cynthia frowned at the answer as much as the sadness in Didi’s voice. She swore she caught a hint of fear in there, too, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. There were more lives to save.

  CHAPTER 28

  OPTIONS

  Paula watched with mild fascination—and disgust—as Nick sewed Didi’s neck back together, the latter with her head in the back window while the rest painlessly weathered the cold in the truck bed. Though impressed by the man’s steady hand, her eyes were locked onto the opening he mended. Watching the corpse refill her chest was strange enough, but seeing a spinal cord and brain matter on someone still using them was more jarring than every bump in the road aggravating Paula’s chest wound.

  “Where’d you learn about E.M.P.s?” Didi asked Cynthia.

  “I’m sixteen, not stupid,” the girl sassed, but the Death Doll obviously wasn’t buying it. “I wasn’t getting out of Benton High without a scholarship.”

  “Where’s Benton?” Paula asked as loudly as she could.

  “Arkansas. Straight-A’s and a solid science background were my ticket to M.I.T. As a matter of fact,” the girl added with a humorous grin, “my last science project was on electromagnetic fields. It was supposed to be small enough to take out a couple of radios on my booth, but, uh,” she grinned coyly, “it blew out half the other projects in the gym. And some lights.”

  Alan chuckled over the steering wheel with a glance. His creepy brother didn’t look at all.

  Paula smiled softly. “Do you ever miss home?”

  Cynthia sighed as if restraining herself. “No. I was happy to get out of there when Kenny found me, and not solely because it was overrun.”

  Paula cringed at the thought of that monstrous man, no matter how charming he was … and he was charming, and powerful, and stud calendar good-looking.

  She cursed herself for thinking that of any man that
wasn’t her adoring husband. Dim as her Sean might’ve been, he was a truly good man, especially now as he held her closely to keep her warm and stable in this rough truck ride.

  “At least you got out,” Didi said with a sage grin, “even if it was with Kenny.”

  Cynthia sulked a little. “I really thought he wanted me with him, but he was just boosting his numbers.” She smiled sideways at Didi. “What about you, Baby Dahl? How does a porn star become this great, undead leader?”

  “Done,” Nick said as he released Didi’s repaired neck and returned to the life in his computer.

  Didi smiled at Cynthia with a Socratic gleam in her eye. “Ever hear of Rahab?”

  The girl shook her head, but Paula quickly saw what was coming.

  “She was a prostitute in the Book of Joshua … or an innkeeper. When ol’ Josh sent some spies to check out Jericho, this single mo-ther taking care of her family hid them in her place. She even lied to the king—who knew they were there—to keep them safe. The Israelites spared her and her family for it after they took the city.”

  Cynthia’s shimmering brow rose. “Are you looking to be spared, too?”

  “I’m not getting into Heaven on my looks, unlike you maybe,” Didi quipped, which made the girl and Paula recoil. “It took serious brass walking up to the Gamesman like that. You must assume a pretty face will get you everywhere.”

  Cynthia grinned vindictively. “It worked on you guys, didn’t it?”

  Didi smirked as she tussled Cynthia’s hair. The girl actually giggled.

  Paula was thoroughly impressed by the effect this zombie had on this young enemy, which made her believe even more that children just needed the right guidance to straighten out, no matter how badly they had behaved.

  Kind of like how God felt about the sinners of the world He kept reaching out to … the way Didi did. Perhaps this glorified prostitute deserved a place in Heaven after all.

  Paula hoped she did, too, after the way she had behaved. If not, she prayed she would earn it in what remained of her life.

  *****

  Walking out of that processing center, Rachelle’s mind was numb. Her “processor” took so long to finish with her, she was practically a zombie by the time she met that occupational guidance counselor, and that opinionated jerk told her exactly what he thought of her future. So she did time, which in the eyes of the self-labeled Society of Tomorrow meant she was only good enough for food service or to be some dude’s baby machine. If that was the case, why bother making her take ten classes a day—starting tomorrow? She needed out of this place.

  The Arboretum wasn’t as busy as earlier. Only a quarter of the lights were on, taking off some of the shine. Bedtime, perhaps; it was kind of late.

  Her unwanted new tagalong, Sergeant Cecchini, kept nagging her to get to her domicile, but she blew him off. She may have had to call him Sergeant, like she was in the damn Army or something, but she wasn’t going to let him manhandle her. He apparently knew that, too, because all he did whenever he said something was clutch his rifle. Of course, she did put Hennessey in the hospital with her little finger twist, which she was particularly proud of.

  She waited on a planter near the processing center hallway, hoping to see Jerri like they had planned, but mostly she wanted to be on her own for now. She dreaded tomorrow, when she would be forced to report to the housing office that would assign her—gulp—foster parents.

  Alas, no Jerri, but she did see Doctor Sitton wandering around the white path in a sort of haze. The pretty thing held a clipboard before her, but she stared just over it.

  Rachelle ran up to the doctor and fell in step with her, followed by her Army babysitter at a safe distance. “What’s up, Doc?” she asked.

  Doctor Sitton took a whole two seconds to notice. “Oh, hello.”

  Geez, talk about out of it! “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Doctor Sitton replied with a weak smile before looking above her clipboard again. “Everything’s fine.” Lie.

  Rachelle snatched the clipboard and held it behind her back. “Yeah, right.”

  “Give me that,” the doctor snapped as she reached around Rachelle, her eyes full of panic.

  “Give it,” Sergeant Tagalong ordered, jerking his rifle up.

  The good doctor blocked him. “No, don’t. I’ll take her from here. You can go now.”

  The tagalong looked shocked. “You saw what she did to Hennessey, Doc. I’m not leaving—”

  “Stand down, Sergeant,” Doctor Sitton said firmly, then quietly added, “I’d rather not have the President talk to your commander about this.”

  Sergeant Cecchini stared the doctor down like she was nuts, then threw his rifle strap around his neck and walked away in a huff.

  The doctor sighed and faced Rachelle, who was too impressed not to give back the clipboard. The pretty thing somberly walked to a nearby bench and plopped down on it, gazing ahead.

  Rachelle sat next to her, studying the distant look in those green eyes.

  “Where you lived, you fought for your people,” the doctor said softly, like the wind had left her. “Did they ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do?”

  “Just listen,” Rachelle replied, which only happened when she first joined the camp. “Who’s making you do what?”

  Doctor Sitton shook her head and stood. “I need to go.”

  Rachelle stood up and grabbed the doctor’s wrist. “Hey, I can help, here. I’m a good listener.”

  The doctor’s lip quivered, then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” she said as she tried to yank her hand away, then frowned when she failed. “Let go.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong first.”

  “Give me a break. I gave you one from your escort.”

  “You might think I’m just a kid, but you won’t find anyone who understands these hard choices like me. My friends Didi and Cody taught me well.”

  The pretty doctor stopped trying to leave. Her face grew curious, even if still sad. “Cody?”

  “Yeah, one of my leaders. He used to be a soldier before.”

  Doctor Sitton’s eyes widened almost as big as her spectacles. “What was his last name?”

  Rachelle flinched. “Montgomery. Why?”

  The doctor’s mouth fell open, which she covered with her hand as her big eyes slowly fluttered in all directions. “Oh, my God,” she said through her fingers. “What will he think of me now?”

  Rachelle regarded the stunned doctor until the reason hit her like a board upside the head. “You’re Heather?”

  The doctor frowned. “I didn’t tell you my first name.”

  “Cody did the other day. He’ll be so surprised to—”

  The doctor grabbed Rachelle’s arms with a surprisingly strong grip. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. We were at a truck stop yesterday when I got taken.”

  Doctor Heather Sitton’s eyes blanked out as she turned an impossibly paler shade of white.

  Rachelle nudged the doctor’s arm to snap her out of it. “Doc, what’s got you so spooked?”

  As soon as the doctor quietly told her, she wished she had never asked. Now she had to find her people … if she could convince Cody’s old flame to help her.

  *****

  “That’s a hell of a plan,” Didi said to Cynthia, who beamed proudly back at her brighter than the Lavon’s lamp. Then she faced Nick. “Are you sure it’ll work?”

  Nick raspberried with his lips. “The program’s up. I’ll make it happen.”

  She smiled at the twins. “You think you can handle it, or do I have to separate you two?”

  The twins regarded each other, then grinned at her. “Technically, we’ll be doing that ourselves,” Alan said. “We just need better coats. The soldiers didn’t leave any behind.”

  “If we do this right, you won’t be out there that long. Best suggestion I have is blankets.”

  Alan nodded. Aaron mimicked freezing … or
maybe he really was.

  Didi faced Sean. “Will you be okay?”

  “Yeah,” the tall farmer said, pointing at his left foot. “I can’t really run right now anyway, and I need to stay with Paula.”

  She patted his shoulder and said to the group, “Then let’s get to it.”

  Her people split up and went about their duties.

  “It’ll never work,” Lieutenant Pedophile said, his snarky voice grating Didi’s brain. “You’re dealing with the United States Army, for God’s sake.”

  Didi grinned drolly at him, taking only a small measure of satisfaction in seeing him chained to the bolted gun racks in the Armory. “It’s for God’s sake—and the sake of my charges—that I have to try. Whether or not I succeed is up to God.”

  The entitled prick snickered at her. “You think God’s going to swoop down and help you take on NORAD? Help you hurt the people who are trying to save what’s left of this world?”

  Didi playfully shrugged. “They say God helps those who help themselves.”

  “You can’t win. We’re better trained, better equipped, and we have way more people. You’re just a dead hooker without a chance …” and a whole lot of other proud yet desperate nonsense flew out of the man’s mouth as Didi walked away. No wonder Cody said he never liked officers.

  *****

  Isaac trembled on his undersized bed, unable to believe the bullshit he was awakened to hear. No way was the head brother going to be that stupid. “Naw, girl! He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh, he will,” the fine-assed doctor said, and, Lord, was she pretty for a stick figure. Even looking as worried for her ex as she did, she was cuter than a Northwestern co-ed.

  It had been too long since Isaac had had a woman.

  “We have to tell Cody,” Rachelle insisted. “Do you know where he is?”

  He shrugged. “That major dude took him to some infirmary to fix his side.”

  Doctor Sitton frowned hard. “He’s wounded? What happened to him?”

  “He got shot by a gang,” he told the doctor. “We took care of them, though.”