After The Apocalypse

by Roseman, Josh

  "Holy crap!"

  I turn around. It looks like I saved a group of college students from this... this whatever-it-is. "You all okay?"

  "Y... yeah." That's the guy who I assume is the leader; he's closest to me, at any rate. "Yeah, we just saw this thing and were trying to get away, and it came after us."

  I nod. "You should be safe now."

  "Thanks." That's the lone girl in the group, taller than me and skinnier than I'll ever be, her hair tied back in a long braid. "What was it, anyway?"

  "No idea," I say with a shrug. "It was evil. That's enough." I flash them a quick smile. "See you around."

  "See you--"

  But I don't hear the rest of what the leader-guy says because I'm back in the air.

  That thing wasn't even a challenge. I'm still itchy and twitchy and I need to fight something. I feel like I have to sneeze but it won't come out, like I'm right on the edge of a really big orgasm and the guy keeps missing that one spot. If only I could get my nose to cooperate, if only I could convince him to do this instead of that, the release would be unbelievable.

  But there's no release on the horizon for me. Not unless I end up killing a lot more of these minor minions.

  My stomach quivers again. I orient on the feeling and zoom away.

  I have work to do.

  I dispatch three more creatures and am en route to the fourth, zipping past one of the city's high-rise condo buildings, when a fist of force grabs me and my powers suddenly shut off.

  I panic for a moment before I realize that I'm only half-right: my powers seemed to shut off. I still have them -- I know the difference, believe me -- but I can't use them. Something stronger than me has taken over. For another panicked second I'm afraid that Dr. Colibri has put together some sort of anti-Alexandra laser, but the sudden flood of bile in my throat knocks that train of thought completely off the tracks.

  What's worse, I can't even spit the nasty stuff out of my mouth, can't even try to throw up. I'm completely immobilized, and I'm moving downward at a stately pace. Whatever's doing this isn't stopping my autonomic systems, so I can still breathe and think, but I can't blink and my eyes are starting to ache.

  When I land, though, the petrifying part of the field lets go and I heave a massive rush of horrible things up and out of my mouth, onto the roof of the condo. After several seconds, I manage to look up, eyes blurry with tears, and see a tall figure in all black.

  "Oh, fuck."

  The answering laugh is all I need to hear. I wipe my eyes and there he is.

  The Dark King.

  "Don't try to fight me," he says. He holds up his left hand; something wet and red and throbbing in slow, regular beats rests on his palm. "Neither of us have power here, and I don't think you want to die badly enough to tackle me off this roof."

  He's right. Damn him, but he's right.

  I get to my feet and take a few steps in the King's direction, but he backs up until he's right at the edge. He doesn't show any fear, and for the moment, I don't either -- although the thought of landing on the pavement forty-something stories below will sink in at some point soon, I'm betting. "What do you want?"

  "Oh, nothing much," he says, awfully conversationally given that the one person in the world tasked to kill him is standing only a few yards away. "Just to congratulate you."

  "Congratulate me?" I turn my head and spit; it's thick and yellowish, full of sour bile, and it makes my tongue burn. "On what?"

  "On an absolutely spectacular show, of course!" He smiles wide, almost leering at me, and I wish I was wearing something less form-fitting. I've seen that expression on men's faces before, and nothing good ever comes of it. "You actually thought I was going to come?"

  "I was kind of hoping." My voice is weak and tired, and I know it, but I just don't care. If he dies, then he can't take over the world, so I think -- for the moment -- we're both safe. "You let me set myself up to fail, didn't you."

  It's not a question but he answers it anyway. "I didn't have to set you up at all. You did all the work; I'm just going to reap the benefit. Do you really think you'll get that many people to believe in you again?"

  "It doesn't matter." I'm starting to feel stronger, even though my powers are nullified by what I'm now certain is a human heart in the Dark King's hand. I take a couple of steps toward him, but he has nowhere to go. "You're not going to win."

  "Believe that if you like, but no one's faced me the second time around and lived."

  "Because no one's had their powers come back like mine."

  "That's true." The smile just won't go away, and it's starting to creep me out. "The humans who monitor the Agreement kill my adversary before his power -- or hers, in your case -- grows too strong."

  "Well, it looks like something went wrong with me," I say, folding my arms. "Or did you fail to notice that I've faced off against -- and killed -- every minion you've sent against me?"

  "Except War."

  An icy knife digs into my heart. "Except War," I agree, keeping my voice as level as possible. "But that was his choice."

  "Yes, it was. A wrong choice at that." The King steps up onto the edge. A stiff breeze could knock him to his death, but this isn't the movies and there's never a freak gust of wind when I need one the most. "Even if you do survive our next battle, you won't see that traitor again."

  "What did you do to him?" Now my voice isn't level. Now it's low and deadly.

  The King's red eyes widen with surprise and he chuckles at me. "Now isn't that interesting," he says. "Just what happened between the two of you?"

  "That's private," I say.

  "Oh, really?" The chuckle is now a cackle. "I have got to tell the others about this. The human incarnation of War fucked the adversary!"

  "We didn't-- I mean, he didn't--" I'm sputtering, furious, my face hot with anger and shame, even though I have nothing to be ashamed of. "What did you do to him? Did you kill him, or whatever it is you do in your pocket dimension?"

  "'Pocket dimension'?" He considers that. "I like the term. I'm going to use it, if you don't mind."

  "What. Did. You. Do?"

  "To War?" His grin is mild but somehow even more insidious than the leering and the cackling. "You know that anything I create doesn't really die, and you know that I created all of them. Including War."

  "I had a feeling."

  "War can't die." The grin gets infinitesimally wider. "But he still needs sustenance or he'll shrivel away to nothing."

  I nod. "You're starving him."

  "Oh, it's more than that." The grin goes away and the King is utterly serious. "Famine's guarding him, and you know what he's like."

  My hands clench into fists. "You evil bastard!"

  "Glass houses," he says. "To me, you're the evil bastard. Or, I suppose, since you're a female, that would be evil bitch, wouldn't it?"

  I don't dignify that with a response. War's going to be imprisoned by the Dark King for at least five millennia, Famine sucking away his energy and his will to live -- or whatever the right word is for what the minions do, since one of the hallmarks of being alive is that death is always a possibility.

  I take a few slow breaths, trying to get myself under control. "Drop the field, or whatever this is," I say. "Let's end this now."

  "If we end it now -- if you send me back -- then how do you plan to rescue your savior?"

  He's got me there, but I've known ever since War sacrificed himself to save me that there was no hope of getting him back. Not in the short-term, anyway. "I don't."

  Okay, that surprises the King. When I move toward him, though, he brandishes the heart. "As long as this heart beats, we're just two normal human beings."

  "Do I care? You made me look like a fool! If I die now, so be it -- because you'll die too!"

  "Oh, now, Alexandra, let's not be hasty--"

  "Yes. Let's."

  There's something about learning how to fight that a lot of fictional super-villains forget: even without our power, those of
us with abilities are quite capable of doing battle without them. I can throw a hell of a punch, and now that I'm in shape again, I have most of my flexibility back. I'm plenty dangerous even without the ability to fly, heal most mortal wounds, lift cars, or move faster than a fighter jet.

  And still The Dark King just stands there, watching me stalk toward him. When I'm only a yard away, when he realizes that I'm not fucking around, he tips an imaginary hat in my direction and steps off the side of the building.

  Two seconds later, my powers come back like someone flipped a switch. The King must have killed the heart, maybe smashed it or torn it apart or otherwise broken it. I dive over the side of the building, heading down, but he's already gone.

  "No! " It's a scream, all my fury and pain in one long, throat-rending shriek, and I don't care who hears it. "Come back here, you son of a bitch! Come back and fight me! "

  But he doesn't come back and eventually, even though my healing abilities are working overtime on my throat, I get tired of cursing his name.

  I thought I forgot to put the blanket outside before I left this morning, but there it is on the balcony chair. I zip in and get under it, then let myself inside.

  "Good," Jake says, getting up from the couch. "You found it."

  "Yeah. I found it." I walk through the living room and into my bedroom, plopping down on the bed to pull off my boots. Jake stands at the doorway. "What?"

  "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

  "Yeah, all right. That's a laugh." I push the outer part of the suit down my shoulders, revealing the bodysuit underneath, then stand up so I can shove it down my legs and step out of it. Jake's face goes pale. "I fucked up, Jake. I fucked up bad."

  "No, Andi, it wasn't you. It was a good plan; it just--"

  "It just made him laugh at me!"

  "Him?"

  I scoop up the suit and throw it in the corner, then kick the boots away, hard enough that one lands in the bathroom and the other leaves a scuff-mark on the wall. "The Dark King! Who else would I be talking about?"

  "Andi--"

  "Oh, no, don't you fucking 'Andi' me!" I snap, turning to him and closing the distance between us. When we're close enough to touch, I grab the mask and pull it off, ignoring the ripping pain of glue separating skin from whatever this mask is made of. "Alexandra made the mistake, and there's no way for her to fix it." A laugh bubbles up in my throat. "But I'm not Alexandra right now, am I?"

  "Um... no?" I see his throat moving as he swallows. Hard. "Andi, maybe you should sit down..."

  "Maybe you should sit down." I take him by the arms and pull him the rest of the way into the bedroom, pushing him onto the bed. He loses his balance, catching himself on his elbows, and I grab the top of the singlet and rip it apart. It only takes a second to get it off and then I'm on the bed with him, straddling his hips in nothing but my underwear. This isn't exactly the set I would've chosen Jake, or anyone else, to see -- a gray sports bra and plain black panties that aren't the least bit sexy -- but one does what one must.

  And right now, I must do something to get my mind off what happened. Jake's here, and he likes me, and I more than like him, and I lean down and press my mouth against his.

  He loses what little balance he has left and ends up on his back, but that's okay; I follow him down, still kissing him, controlling it, my tongue against his lips, my arms around his head, cradling him in them.

  But he's not responding. That's odd. I pull away and look into Jake's blue eyes from only inches away. "What is it? Is it my breath?"

  He actually smiles. "It's not that," he says. "But, Andi--"

  I don't let him say anything else. I just start kissing him again, first on his mouth, then his bearded jaw and the side of his neck. He squirms and, when I slide my hips downward, I can feel that at least part of him is into it. "Andi," he says. "Andi, stop. Please..."

  "Why?" I nip his neck and then sit up long enough to pull the bra over my head. Jake can't help but look, and I'm glad he does. "I can feel that you want to, and I know you like me. And I certainly like you."

  "But--" He shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Andi, we can't do this--"

  "Why not?" I lean down again, hands on his shoulders, and grind against him. I haven't had sex with powers since I was eighteen, and I have to remember to be careful.

  I don't want to be careful.

  "Jake, please... I need something that makes me feel good. I want you to make me feel good."

  "I can't--"

  "Please," I whisper, almost a moan. "Please, Jake, help me take the pain away."

  He opens his mouth, probably to protest, but I'm faster than him and now I can kiss him the way I want to, finding his tongue with mine. He tries to pull away but my hands are on his cheeks, making sure he can't.

  All he can do is let me kiss him, and I do, caressing his face and running my fingers through his hair. But when it becomes clear that he's not responding the way I need, I sit up again. "Jake..."

  "Andi..." I see his the pain in his eyes and it stops me for a moment, long enough for him to say what he needs to. "Andi, I don't want to do this. I can't do this."

  "Why not?" My anger flashes hot, but not hot enough to hit the core of ice that's formed in my chest. "What's wrong with me, huh? You'd rather your wife was up here? The wife who took your kid and moved out?"

  "Damn it, Andi, it's not that and you know it!"

  "So what is it then?" I snap. I put my hands on my hips, making sure that my breasts are at the best angle I can give them. "Am I too hot? Is that it? You said you liked me just fine when I was fat, but now that I've got my old body back, you just can't get it up?" I laugh and press against his crotch. "No, that's not it, I can definitely feel something going on down there."

  "I just... Andi, I can't do this. Not with you, and not with anyone!"

  "Sure you can." I scoot back enough to reach down, feel him with my hand. I take hold of the waist of his pants, ready to rip them open, ready to give myself the kind of access I want.

  Jake's hand closes around my wrist. "Andi," he says, his voice almost too quiet to hear, "please... don't do this. I don't want this."

  I see his eyes start to glisten with tears and, in a flash -- literally -- I'm off him and curled in the corner of the room, staring at him, horrified. "Oh... oh no... oh, Jake..."

  He doesn't say anything else, but I can see tears silently moving down his face as he stares at me for a long moment. I know my own eyes are wet too, but I ignore it, huddled against myself. He's back in the living room a few moments later and I hear him moving around, probably gathering his things.

  I can't even bring myself to say goodbye. I just listen to him leave my apartment, sitting in the corner, tears coursing down my cheeks, for I don't know how long. At some point Buffy comes in and gives me a confused look. "What?" I whisper tonelessly.

  "He was stupid not to want to mate with you."

  "No," I tell her. "I'm just an idiot."

  She doesn't agree or disagree; she just picks her way across the carpet to the chair by the window, sitting in the sun. Willow tries to comfort me with a snuggle, but when I ignore her completely she leaves.

  I don't deserve comfort. I'm an idiot, and I almost forced my best friend to have sex with me.

  How... how could I even think that would make me feel better?

  What the hell was I thinking?

  No. I know the answer to that. I wasn't thinking, and I almost did something unforgivable. If Jake hadn't stopped me, hadn't made me see what I was doing, I would've gone through with it, too.

  Buffy's right. I'm an idiot. And I deserve whatever happens to me next.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE BODY

  +++++

  At some point, I must have moved to the bed, because when the acid starts burning in my stomach, I sit bolt upright and dash for the bathroom. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, and I feel like shit -- not just for that reason, mind -- but at least there's almost n
othing to bring up. Small favors.

  I wish I could just lie back down and keep staring at the ceiling, but I can't. I can't just sit around here while something strong enough to make me throw up is out there, doing whatever it does. Methodically -- and far too slowly -- I get the spare costume from the back of my closet, pull a clean bra out of the top drawer, and turn from Andrea into Alexandra. I can't say it makes me feel any better to put that part of myself out of sight, and I know I'm going to have to deal with this sooner or later, but not right now. Just thinking about it is like picking at a freshly-formed scab: I know there's blood and pain under there, but I still have to fiddle with it, poke at it, see how much I can take.

  I can take a lot of pain. I know I can. But as I take to the sky, following the tingling in my neck, I wonder if this pain is ever going to go away.

  The Andrea inside me doubts it.

  The Alexandra I am right now agrees.

  "I'm an idiot."

  Idiot though I may be, I'm still not stupid enough to go into a situation without scoping it out first -- and making a quick call to the Professor, waking him up so I can tell him what's going on. He tells me that Dr. Colibri is probably already on it. "Does she ever sleep?"

  "Not that I know of." He pauses for a couple of seconds. "Are you all right?"

  "No," I say without hesitation. "But now's not the time."

  Another interminable three-second wait. "You're right. We can talk about it in the morning."

  "It's 3:15. It's already morning."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I do." I sigh. "I'll be careful. See you in a few hours." I hang up and put the phone away before he has time to respond, and then I start my descent into the suburbs. I don't get up this way much -- I think I might be in Dunwoody, judging my position relative to the three nearest highways -- and I couldn't pick the name of the street out of a hat, but I know I'm going in the right direction. The ache in my stomach is getting worse, and the tingling in my neck is getting stronger. I land lightly in the middle of a deserted residential street and start to walk, keeping my eyes open for anything weird.