Earth's Survivors: box set

by Wendell Sweet

  Willie struggled to maintain his composure as he watched; not daring to allow his eyes to wander away from the scene, as they so desperately seemed to want to. He swallowed hard trying to force back the vomit he felt in his throat. When Luther finished licking his fingers he spoke.

  "So... What to do? Oh me oh my, what to do!" He feigned fear as he spoke, and dug his fingers into both cheeks, opening furrows in them as he dragged them down his face.

  "I'm terrified," he stated calmly, "Fuckin' terrified!"

  He allowed his voice to rise and quaver at the end, as if this were so, and he was really in great fear. Willie did not dare to speak.

  Even though Luther had asked him, or seemed to ask him questions while he spoke, Willie knew better. That was another lesson he had learned the hard way. You never spoke; I mean never, he reminded himself, until Luther commanded you to.

  "Well you stupid fucking ass-hole," Luther asked, "got any ideas? Are you just gonna let them do this to me? Huh, Willie? Huh?"

  His black eyes bored into Willie, but he still didn't speak. This was not a real question, and no real response was expected. It wasn't nasty enough, and it hadn't included any of the derogatory terms Luther called him by, that would let him know that he really was expected to respond.

  "What's the matter, Willie? You seem awful uptight to me. That little piece of snatch you got ain't been putting out has she," he paused momentarily as if considering before he spoke again.

  "You know what you need, Willie? You need a blow job. That'll loosen you up a little I bet. Yep, just an old fashioned straight forward blow job. Clean those pipes right out for you. But hey! Doesn't she do that for you?"

  "Guess not, huh! If she did you wouldn't be so fuckin uptight now would you."

  Willie nodded his head almost imperceptibly, not sure whether he should have or not.

  Luther nodded his head right back. His head bobbed up and down like it was on a stick in fact, Willie thought. His eyes took on a sad look as well, and his mouth turned down into a pout as he spoke.

  "Poor wittle Willie! Poor, poor wittle Willie! Does da poor wittle Willie need a bow job? Does he?" his pointed tongue snaked out of his mouth once more and licked his lips as he finished, and he smacked them loudly. Then his eyes suddenly flew open, as if he had discovered some astounding revelation, and his lips once more stretched into a wide grin.

  "I'll do you, if you do me, Willie boy!"

  Now it was Willie's turn to have his eyes fly open, but there was no teasing light behind them when they did, as there had been in Luther's.

  "N-N-No," he nearly screamed. His eyes bulged in fear as Luther continued to hold the smile on his lips, the sharp teeth glinting wickedly behind them.

  Luther burst out with a deep rumbling laugh as Willie finished, but just as quickly cut it off, and frowned as he spoke. "Well, don't say I didn't offer, you ungrateful little fuck-stick." He smiled once more. "But if you change your mind..." he allowed a hopeful look to creep into his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders simultaneously, "...maybe?" He arched his eyebrows suggestively, as he once again licked his lips.

  "Well fuck you then," he finished feigning rejection, "what's a girl supposed to do?"

  He paused seemingly lost in thought, and Willie stood shaking, waiting for him to continue.

  "So, my little friend, what to do... Well? Hey, you ignorant little cock-sucker, I'm talking to your black ass!" He suddenly screamed. He allowed the pitch of the scream to fall off at the end. "Well?" he asked more calmly.

  "I-I," Willie began.

  "I-I," Luther mimicked. "I, WHAT?"

  Willie struggled to compose himself for a second before he spoke, his voice however, was still shaky, and hardly more than a whisper. "We could kill 'em?" Willie asked hopefully, and then more positively. "We could kill 'em somehow, Luther."

  "And how do you propose we do that, shit-for-brains?" Luther asked sarcastically. He waved his hands impatiently. "Fuck it. I'll tell you how I propose to do it."

  He gestured with the fingers of one hand towards the computer screen. "See this?"

  Willie nodded his head, and was glad to be able to look away from Luther as he turned his eyes to look at the monitor. "Yes," he managed to squeak, as he licked his lips.

  "You know you really are a useless little fuck, Willie," Luther said, “but I'll tell you anyway. You see they didn't just build a nuclear reactor down here, Willie boy. No-sirree-Bob, they sure didn't. They built this beautiful city for us, and they built a base about four thousand feet or so above us: And that base made some very bad shit, very bad indeed, a virus. Now you might think that virus is the reason you are walking and talking, but it isn't. You are walking and talking because of my will, Willie. You are apart from all this...” He waved his arms in the air. “Worldly shit. That virus didn't do shit for you though: I did, and don't you ever forget that. What I give, I can take. Remember that... So they made their virus, and there is some shit that is coming because of that. They already turned that stuff loose though, evil. They have infected the entire world with it. Much more evil than anything I can do... Or is it?” He looked at Willie as though he actually expected him to come up with something to top it. When Willie said nothing he flapped one hand at him and continued. “So, they didn't just build the city, no. While the Army was up to bad shit, and the CIA had the project ongoing, they did a little something more. They put in a couple of fucking nukes to boot," he paused for a second. “Isn't that delicious? I mean, is that a case of the left hand not knowing what the right was up to or what? And the beauty of it? Neither did know. So top secret, so spook infested, they were all working so hard at keeping secrets that no one thought to see if the other smiling jack-off was also keeping secrets. Pass each other in the elevators without a clue: Good night, Jack... Goodnight, Bob, Jesus please us. That had to be a sight to see.” He drew a breath, chuckling at his joke, released it, sighed and thrummed his fingers on the desk. “I only wish I had been in charge of that virus. I would have cooked up something much better than they did, but thank God for the CIA, right Willie? Two nukes, and I got both of those cock-knockers aimed right at Rochester. Now, what'd'ya think of that, Willie boy? You think that little tid-bit of information might help out our sitcheeashin a little bit?" he turned to the keyboard, and quickly punched in several codes. A small window appeared on the green screen, and the word ARMED, flashed inside a small box within the window. It flashed on and off, pulsing the message.

  "Then, Willie boy, all I have to do is enter one more line of code, and, WHAMO! They're fuckin' history. Now... Tell me... Ain't that real damn interesting, Willie? Don't that just make ya wanna shoot a load right in your pants?" He continued without waiting for Willie to speak.

  "Fuckin' A, it does. Damn straight! Now, what do you think of that Willie? Don't that make the cheese more binding?"

  Willie just nodded his head as his eyes stared at the flashing message on the screen.

  "Ain't gonna do it though, wouldn't be prudent" Luther said in a surprisingly good George Bush imitation. Willie said nothing.

  Luther paused and then resumed in his own voice. "You know Willie; you ain't got no sense of humor at all. I ain't gonna do it, cause I don't wanna do it yet. Yet, Willie, but you can bet your ass I will do it, and soon at that. I'm tired of fucking around with those ass-holes. Especially since that stupid fuck Jeremiah tried to roast me. Can you imagine that, Willie? Can You? I really don't think you can. It really hurt my feelings, Willie, it really did. But, hey! Fuck-em right?"

  He paused again and grinned so widely that Willie was sure his face was going to split, as he turned from the screen and looked at him. Then, as Willie watched, incredibly it did. His face split completely in two, and his lower jaw and teeth swung down, and flopped onto his chest with a wet splash. Green fluid jetted out and sprayed across the room where it splattered onto the front of Willie's shirt, and began to hiss.

  Small curls of smoke drifted up from the front of his shirt as he looked, a
nd his mouth opened in surprise, a tight little whining sound creeping from his throat.

  Luther began to laugh, deep belly laughs, and Willie looked back at him.

  His mouth had somehow joined itself back together, he saw, and he shifted his gaze quickly back to his shirt to see if the smoking green liquid was still burning its way through and into his body. It wasn't, it was gone. His shirt was just as white and pristine as it had been when he had entered the room.

  Luther stopped laughing, but still chuckled as he spoke. "Boy oh boy," he chuckled, "do we ever have an active little imagination... You're a funny little bastard, Willie boy, Real funny." He immediately stopped laughing, and turned serious as his eyes bored into Willie.

  "Well anyway," he continued, "I say fuck-em. Fuck them and the white horse they rode in on, right?"

  "R-Right," Willie managed, "Fu-Fu-Fuck-em," no matter how hard he tried, he could not keep his teeth from chattering, or his body from shaking, and he hoped Luther would get to the point so he could leave before he lost what was left of his mind.

  "Okay," Luther said, "I will get to the point. Here it is. We don't need anyplace else. Rochester is the only place with the lights on. Manhattan, you might think, would be the place to rule from, but no. It's an island, you know, and it is already breeding dead. Dead that will not bow to my rule. And, it's sinking. Sad, but true. The oceans are rising. In a year or so it'll be a wrap for the city of New York. So, it's a no go on Manhattan. Manhattan is dead already. Rochester is all that is left. Just a fluke really, but they are it. You're leaving, Willie boy. You and whoever you choose to take with you that is. You're gonna crawl your ass's right out of the ventilation system, and then you're gonna get a nice little four wheel drive truck of some kind, if those fucking vines haven't covered em all up. Even if they have you'll just have to chop through em, Willie boy. I don't really give a shit how you get one. Then you're gonna drive your slimy ass to Rochester. To be precise, you're gonna drive your ass to the north side of Rochester, and there you're gonna meet up with some friends of ours."

  He paused. "Think you can handle that?"

  He continued after Willie nodded his head, and squeaked out another small "Yes."

  "Good. Good! Cause I'll tell you why. You, and the rest of those ignorant mother-fuckers who'll be waiting for you when you get there, are gonna kick the living shit out of all those ass-holes on the South side, got It? Can I get an Amen, Willie boy? Can you say Hallelujah!! Can you say that for me you miserable little shit heap?"

  "H-Hallelujah," Willie squeaked out, his eyes frightened.

  Luther reached over, picked up the hand set from the phone on the desk, and spoke into it. "Yes, hello, who the fuck did you think it would be? Bring that little cunt in here, would you?" he hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Willie.

  "Now, let's see, where were we..." He snapped his fingers and Willie noticed that when he did, tiny little red sparks leapt from them. "...Oh yes! Okay, so you're going to kick ass and take names, Willie. I mean that sincerely," he leveled a serious look at him as he spoke. "Nobody lives, Willie. Nobody... Got it?" He waited for Willie to nod his head before he continued. "Good. Good, long as we have that clear. I want you out of here today, Willie, and I want you to remember that I'll be keeping track of you. Okay?"

  Willie nodded again. He was sure that even if he'd had to speak he wouldn't have been able to.

  "Good, veerrryy Good," Luther said as he smiled. He seemed about to speak again when a tentative knocking came at the steel door behind Willie. Willie hadn't realized it, but he had backed up against the door. Hell, more like tried to squeeze through it, his mind jabbered.

  "Uh, Willie?" Luther said softly. "You'll have to move your stupid ass before anyone can come in you know. Would you mind?"

  Willie forced his legs to move him sideways to the left and away from the door, and he pressed as tightly to the wall as he could once he reached the edge of the door frame.

  "COME INNNN!" Luther cried out, in a high falsetto. "WE'VE BEEN EXPECTING YOOOOOOUUU!"

  The door swung inward and two scared looking young men rudely shoved a naked and struggling young girl before them as they entered. They pushed her down to the floor, and left as Luther commanded with a sweep of one hand.

  "GET THE FUCK OUT," he shouted, when it seemed as though they were not leaving fast enough.

  They hurriedly left and the door slammed behind them. The girl lay in a heap on the floor, crying, her hair spilling over her face and pooling around her. She lifted her head and looked at Willie.

  "Willie?" she cried, as her frightened eyes swept around the room, and then locked on his. "Wha-What did I do wrong?"

  Before Willie could speak, Luther did.

  "Look at me, you stupid little twat," Luther commanded.

  She looked at him, and then quickly looked away. Luther chose to ignore it, and instead turned his attention to Willie. "Hit the road, Willie boy, 'less you'd like some of what she's gonna get. Would you?"

  Willie shook his head, and as the door swung open he headed quickly out of the foul smelling room.

  Luther stopped him before he was entirely through the door, calling him back. "Uh, Willie?"

  He turned and looked reluctantly back into the room. The girl had lowered her head to the floor and was weeping hysterically, pounding her forehead against the carpeting.

  "Yes?" he managed.

  "Don't fuck it up, Willie. I swear I'll rip your balls off and feed 'em to you if you do."

  Before Willie could answer the door slammed in its steel frame, and he was left looking at the closed gray-painted surface. He hurried off down the hall as fast as he could to get away from the door, and whatever was going on behind it.

  He broke into a run just a few feet further down the hallway and didn't slow down until he reached the Main Operations Room, leaving the small room far behind him.

  He stumbled into the private office he kept, just off the Main Operations Room, and from there into the small adjoining bathroom, and he barely managed to raise the toilet lid with his trembling fingers before everything in his stomach came up in a thick jet.

  He held the porcelain sides of the toilet and retched repeatedly, until he brought nothing up but a thin streamer of saliva. He spit it into the toilet, stood up, and flushed, as he wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. He drew in a deep breath as he walked to the small sink, turned on the cold water spigot, and splashed the water onto the hot skin that was his face. He dried his face and hands, walked slowly back into the private office, and sat down behind the huge oak desk.

  Willie reached into the bottom drawer and liberated a nearly empty bottle of Gin along with a small plastic bag of white powder, and set them both down on the polished surface. He withdrew a small length of straw from a silver holder on the desk, which had been used to hold pencils and pens before Willie had taken over the office, and poured a large quantity of the powder directly onto the polished surface. He shoved the straw into one nostril, pinched off the other and inhaled deeply. Sucking the powder off the surface of the desk and up his nose. He repeated the procedure for the other nostril and then leaned back into the chair, spun the cap off the bottle and took a deep drink. Thin lines of blood trickled out both sides of his abused nasal passage, and he absently swiped at it, staining the sleeves of the white shirt, as he drank again from the bottle.

  No doubts now, he knew. No doubts whatsoever. Even yesterday he had been solidly convinced, despite the evidence to the contrary, that he was on the right side. Not now and now was just a little fuckin' late to find that out. Bullshit! He told himself. You knew from jump what was up. True, true. There could be no other answer. When he felt he had himself under control, he stood and walked back into the small bathroom.

  He absently stripped off the shirt, and washed his face and hands once more. Then he walked to a small built in closet, fished out a clean white shirt, shrugged into it, and buttoned it up. Ten minutes later he was back out in the lar
ge Operations Room with a group of ten men surrounding him. He had not given any of them a choice about going, but had instead simply stated that they were going, and he didn't want to hear any shit about it either.

  He had received none at all. Instead they had all quickly nodded and followed him towards the ventilation shaft when he had turned and left. Once inside, they had cut through to the main shaft with a portable set of torches, and then again, once they had reached the small plant that filtered the air coming into the underground city, they had cut through the main shaft that tilted up towards the surface.

  By noon they were outside, after cutting through a steel grating which had been the last remaining obstacle. They had followed one of the lower passages out of the long network of air-shafts and had emerged less than a quarter mile from Watertown. They were completely surrounded by water, but in front of them a sleek gray speed-boat was tethered to an iron pipe that jutted out from the grating that had covered the air shaft.

  A few short minutes later they were drifting slowly around the tops of the buildings, which were all that remained of the downtown section of Watertown, and approaching a small hill that was still above water. Willie throttled the speed back, and drifted into a grassy, vine covered bank. One of the men in front tied off the boat, although Willie had been tempted to just let it drift, and they stepped off onto the ground.

  Two hours later they were driving slowly down Route 3 after liberating three Ford Broncos from a dealership on the outskirts of Watertown.

  The vines covered everything in sight and it was hard to follow the roadway in front of them as it was almost indistinguishable from the surrounding greenery.

  It was more jungle-like, Willie decided, than anything else. The only thing that pointed the way was the road itself, which, although vine covered, remained somewhat flat. The trees or at least, Willie thought, what had been trees that lined the road, were completely covered with the vines. The result was a long vine covered corridor angling away from them.