A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Book 4): Broken Lives

by James Hunt

  The thought of Jung Jr. and Claire suddenly flooded his mind. He couldn’t let his family hurt them. Billy brought the rifle’s stock to his shoulder. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

  When he opened his eyes he jumped from behind the staircase and fired a few rounds in his mother’s direction, causing her to jump behind one of the small stone walls in the courtyard. He tried looking for his brother, but he couldn’t see where he went.

  He used the wall behind him as a guide and kept his sights on his mother as he backtracked to the room where the kids were. He finally made it to the door and backed inside.

  Before the door was shut he felt hands grip his neck and face. The rifle hit the floor as Billy tried to free himself from Cain’s hold, but it was useless. The more he struggled the tighter Cain squeezed.

  “Shhh,” Cain whispered.

  It took Billy a moment for the scene in front of him to sink in. Both Jung Jr. and Claire were on the floor, crying and holding on to each other while Joey stood next to them with his rifle aimed at both their heads.

  Joey was looking at him, but it wasn’t his brother’s eyes staring at him. It was some other creature’s gaze. They looked like their father’s eyes.

  “Your brother wanted to come show you something,” Cain said.

  Billy screamed through Cain’s hand, trying to talk to his brother, but all that came out was mumbled cries. His eyes moved from Joey’s finger on the trigger to Jung Jr.’s and Claire’s crying faces.

  “Show him, Joey. Show him who you are,” Cain said.

  This wasn’t his brother. This wasn’t any type of reality he knew. How could it be? It was a nightmare. He just had to wake up.

  The barrel of Joey’s rifle pressed against the side of Jung Jr.’s head. Billy started to feel light-headed. The room started to go black.

  Claire’s face was beet red from crying. Her screams were piercing, scared. She clutched onto her brother, whose face was just as red and afraid. Joey’s hand was shaking.

  “Do it,” Cain said.

  Claire screamed again, louder than she had before. Billy couldn’t take his eyes off his brother’s finger hovering over the trigger. One small movement was all it would take to transform his brother from innocent to murderer.

  “Do it!” Cain screamed.

  The sound of Joey’s rifle going off seemed as if it was far away, in another world, in another life. When it was over all Billy could hear was a solid ringing in his ears, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was the blood splattered across his brother’s face.

  ***

  When Billy woke up he tried moving his arms, but he felt the tight grip of rope around his wrists, keeping his hands tied behind his back. His ankles were bound together as well.

  He looked to his left and saw that Jung was tied and bound next to him. Jung had his eyes open, but they were glazed over.

  “Jung,” Billy said. “Jung, what’s going on?”

  Jung didn’t respond. He just sat there, a dead look on his face, staring at something. Billy followed Jung’s line of sight and when he saw what Jung was looking at he turned his head and puked on the ground.

  The acid from the vomit burned his throat, all the way from the pit of his stomach to the roof of his mouth.

  Both Jung Jr. and Claire were piled on top of each other. The blast from Joey’s rifle had left their heads and faces unrecognizable. Their small hands, arms, and legs were tangled together and motionless.

  Billy’s body convulsed as sobs escaped him. They were silent at first, and then grew to painful moans. The cries were rooted in not only the children’s deaths but also the actions of his brother.

  Billy just lay there on his side against the rough, granular concrete, staring at the two tiny, lifeless bodies on the ground in front of him when a pair of boots blocked his vision.

  “I’m glad you finally came around. We were starting to worry,” Cain said.

  Cain grabbed Billy’s shoulders and sat him upright. He tapped the side of Billy’s cheeks, and then wiped the tears off them.

  “There, there now. It’s okay. Those kids won’t have to suffer anymore. Your brother did a very brave thing, you know,” Cain said.

  It was Cain’s eyes that threw Billy off. They were crystal blue, clearer and richer than any eyes he’d ever seen before, eyes that hid the twisted mind that stole his brother’s childhood.

  “You know he didn’t say a word when we brought him down here?” Cain said, gesturing to Jung. “Now, there’s a man who has lost all connection with who he used to be. I’d bring him with me if he weren’t a complete zombie. Such a waste,” Cain said.

  Cain pulled a knife from his belt. It ran six inches in length with a solid black handle. He placed the tip of the blade gently on the toe of Billy’s shoe.

  “You know your family is very special. I can’t tell you how many towns I’ve been to like this one where people are barely surviving, trying to hold on. Each time I tried to help them, convince them that there was a better way, but none of them could go the distance. They couldn’t leave behind the one thing stopping them from flourishing,” Cain said.

  Cain ran the knife along the fabric of Billy’s pants with enough pressure for Billy to feel the blade’s presence, but light enough to not cut the fabric.

  “Where’s my brother?” Billy asked.

  “Oh, he’ll be here in a minute. I’m sure he won’t want to miss the show,” Cain answered.

  “You’re sick.”

  “You know what I just realized? I haven’t properly introduced myself.”

  Cain laughed, shaking his head.

  “I’m so sorry about that. My name is Cain.”

  “I don’t give a shit what your name is.”

  “See! That’s the spark! That’s what you need! But you’re missing the sense of detachment that your friend here has. If I could just combine the two of you I think you’d be a great addition, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time,” Cain said. “Ah, here she is.”

  Billy looked to his right and saw his mother walking toward him. She had dark circles under her eyes. They were deeper than usual. More hollow.

  “Mom?” Billy asked.

  She didn’t respond. Cain stood up and handed her the knife.

  “Don’t take too long,” Cain said.

  Cain patted her on the back and disappeared behind Billy. Beth knelt down in front of him, her eyes looking at him, but not seeing him.

  “Mom, what are you doing? I don’t know what that man did, but listen to me, this isn’t right. Mom, you’re not thinking straight,” Billy said.

  “I loved you,” Beth said.

  Billy started crying. His whole body shook as the flow of tears opened up again down his face. His head tilted down. He tried stopping, but he couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so s-sorry. I’m sorr-ry,” Billy said.

  Beth lifted Billy’s head. Her face was calm. The blade was still clutched in her other hand. She smiled and Billy caught a glimpse of how his mother used to look at him before all of this, before the blackout and the death of his father.

  “Billy,” Beth said.

  Her words were soft like when she used to come and tuck him in at night when he was a child. He was always afraid of the dark, but whenever she came in before he went to sleep he always felt better, safer.

  “I don’t care,” Beth finished.

  Billy felt the cold steel thrust into his neck. His whole body seized. The pain was quick and he immediately gasped for breath. He could feel the blood spilling from his neck onto his chest. Everything felt warm at first, then cold, empty… tired.

  Beth held his gaze the entire time. Her face was twisted with anger. But even with that face staring back at him the last image Billy saw was him and his brother playing in the yard. It was sunny outside, and there was a slight breeze in the air. They were chasing after each other, playing tag.

  The pain finally subsided and Billy smiled, hearing nothing but the sound
of his brother’s laughter echoing through the field in his mind.

  ***

  Jung didn’t put up a fight. When he saw Cain open the door to his room he thought that was the moment, this man was the one to end everything for him, but he was wrong.

  He thought that’d he lost all ability to feel anything, but when he saw his children dead, something inside of him was screaming, demanding to be let out, but it couldn’t escape.

  It was trapped deep within him, like a man lost at sea, screaming through the storm to another ship in the distance for help, but no one was able to hear him.

  The only emotion that came out was the steady flow of tears tumbling down the side of his cheeks. When he felt Billy’s body collapse next to him he looked down to see blood spilling into the cracks of the concrete.

  Jung could smell the blood and feel it sticking to his shirt and arm. Everything was red. He felt himself panicking. The world around him seemed to be folding in, suffocating him until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

  He tried to regain control and went back to the sight of his children. He couldn’t understand why they piled them on top of each other. They were discarded like a broken appliance.

  Cain was saying something to him, but all Jung could see were Cain’s lips moving. He couldn’t hear their sounds, or what he was telling him. Jung knew it was because of this man’s actions that his children were dead.

  But Cain was just the instrument, not the source. The real murderer was Jung. He pulled the trigger on his children long before Cain showed up. It had been there lingering in the back of his mind. He knew the moment would come, but Jung’s one wish was to be dead before he saw it happen.

  Whatever God he’d given up on had decided to return the favor, punishing him for his lack of faith and devotion to his family and fellow man. His mind went to the book of Revelation, and the first words he’d spoken were from the very book he’d forsaken.

  “Every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all peoples on earth will mourn because of him,” Jung said.

  Cain bent down on his knee and met Jung’s eyes, smiling. The blade Beth had used to kill Billy was in his hand still dripping with blood.

  “So shall it be. Amen,” Cain said.

  The slice of Jung’s throat was quick. The blood drained from him like an open faucet, and Jung’s eyes fixed on his children until the last bits of life vanished from his face.

  Cain wiped the blade on Jung’s shoulder, cleaning the red off the silver steel. He tucked it back into his belt and clapped his hands together.

  Beth and Joey’s hands were stained red. That was the sight Cain was looking for, there in front of him. They were hungry now, purged of whatever ties to the past they were holding on to.

  “Now, the fun begins,” Cain said.

  Six Months After the Blackout

  The computer screen on Ben’s desk was the only source of light in the office. His eyes were bloodshot, strained from looking at files for the past nine hours.

  Ben leaned back in his chair and attempted to rub the dryness out of his eyes. He looked over at Mitch, who was passed out on the sofa. So far the only thing Mitch offered in the research was the occasional snore.

  Through all of the files that Ben searched he couldn’t find anything on either Dr. Wyatt or Mike. Both of them were squeaky clean. Aside from Wyatt’s bumble at the Senate hearing, he hadn’t made any waves.

  The only thing he could find on Mike was a speeding ticket under his wife’s name, and their marriage license.

  Ben kept staring at the marriage license, studying it. There was something about it that didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t place it. He wasn’t surprised that Mike had been married.

  Whenever Ben pried into Mike’s past in the interrogation room he’d never get anywhere. Mike wouldn’t talk about anything.

  Even if Dr. Wyatt was telling the truth and there was a journal that chronicled what happened and proved Mike’s innocence, why would he give it to him? The man obviously believed he was guilty, but Ben didn’t think it was of the crimes Mike said he committed. There was something more.

  ***

  “You really think this is going to work?” Mitch asked.

  “We’ve tried everything else. If this doesn’t get a response out of him, then I don’t know what will,” Ben answered.

  Mitch let out a long sigh and then opened the interrogation room’s door. Mike was inside, shackled to the chair and floor, and dressed in orange.

  Mike kept his head down as usual and Ben took a seat across from him. Ben laid the manila folder gently onto the table and folded his hands together.

  “How are you doing today, Mike?” Ben asked.

  The only answer Ben received was the shuffling of chains. Ben opened the file, but made sure Mike couldn’t see the contents of what was inside. He flipped through the pages, just examining them.

  “You know we had a friend of yours pay us a visit yesterday,” Ben said.

  It was the first time Mike actually looked at him. Whatever secrets Mike was hiding, having an “old friend” stop by was bound to make him nervous.

  “Did you ever spend any time in Washington, DC, before the blackout?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t have any friends,” Mike said.

  “I actually lived there, before the EMP blast. Most of the city was a dump, but it wasn’t without its charms.”

  Ben continued to examine the pictures in the file, glancing up every once in a while to see Mike’s eyes glaring at him.

  “The monuments there are incredible. It’s a great destination for families,” Ben said.

  Mike pulled hard against the chains, but they were so tight that the only thing Ben noticed was the flex of Mike’s arms.

  Ben set the folder down, and pulled out pictures of Freddy, Kalen, and Anne. Each picture slid across the table’s smooth surface and stopped abruptly at Mike’s arm.

  “Were they in on it too, Mike?” Ben asked. “Did your family help you break into that military base and launch that EMP? Did they even know who you were, what you were planning on doing?”

  Mike didn’t say anything. He just glanced down at the pictures. Ben tried reading the emotions on Mike’s face, but it was blank.

  “Do they know you’re here?” Ben asked.

  “We thought you’d be happy to see them,” Mitch said.

  Mitch leaned on the table, his large belly digging into the table’s edge.

  “You couldn’t protect them, could you? You weak piece of shit,” Mitch said.

  “AHHHHHHHH!” Mike screamed.

  Mike snapped and turned on Mitch, but the restraints did their job. Curses and spit flew from Mike’s mouth as he screamed at both of them. It was a stream of adrenaline that lasted for fifteen minutes, then finally subsided with Mike exhausted and slumped in his chair, looking numb as he stared at the pictures on the table.

  “Mike,” Ben said, “I don’t think you did any of what you said happened. I don’t believe a family man who was married for twenty-five years at a job you’d been at for just as long would snap like this. Tell me what happened. I can help you.”

  Mike’s eyes were red. Ben could see the tears he was holding back, ready to burst at any moment. Ben picked up a picture of his son and held it up for Mike to see.

  “What happened, Mike?” Ben asked.

  Mike gently grabbed the picture from Ben’s hands. It was Mike’s shoulders that started to shake first, then his arms and hands, and the picture wobbled back and forth. The first tear hit the table, and with the dam now broken the rest of the tears fell like rain.

  After a minute of letting himself go he started to regain his composure, drawing in deep breaths.

  “Who is he?” Mike asked.

  “Who is who?” Ben asked.

  “The man who came to see you.”

  “He identified himself as Dr. Quinn Wyatt.”

  The picture of Freddy fell from Mike’s grip. His eyes darted from Mitch to Be
n.

  “Where’s the journal, Mike?” Ben asked.

  “Whatever he told you is a lie,” Mike said.

  “The journal, Mike. What did you do with it?”

  “Take me back to my cell.”

  It wasn’t going to work. Wherever the journal was, whatever happened, Mike wasn’t going to tell him. Ben called for the correction officer and Mike was escorted back to his cell.

  Mitch patted Ben on the back.