by J. Thorn
As the Moreko charged them, the men wavered. It was one thing to shoot at a Moreko from long distance, quite another to see them a few feet away. I had my rifle at my shoulder, but before I could fire, someone pushed a table out of an adjoining building, right into the advancing Moreko. Two of the Moreko were swept aside by the heavy table that had just come barreling into their flanks, and as they struggled to regain their footing, the four civilians opened up with their pistols, destroying both the Moreko. The two remaining Moreko had turned to attack whoever had stopped their charge with the table, and I fired, hitting one of them in the head and dropping him.
The other Moreko turned to look at me. As far as Moreko go, he wasn’t all that bad-looking. No limbs missing, no body parts of victims sticking to his clothes, no fresh blood all over his shirt. I knelt and added a single bullet hole to his head to complement his good looks.
That was when I got my first look at the men who had saved the four civilians. Two of Bharti’s former troopers. Imagine that – unarmed men taking on Moreko to help those who were in effect their captors. This new world brings out the worst in a lot of people, but it sometimes gives you hope that we as a race are capable of doing something more than screwing up our world.
The man whom I had seen push the table out was called Ashok and I threw him my handgun. He had done quite enough to earn my trust.
The four Moreko were only the first of many more we were to see that day. While I won’t bore you with all the details, we didn’t lose anyone, and we managed to get a lot of supplies up – including toilet paper. As you probably know only too well by now, when the world as we know it ends, a roll of toilet paper is worth more than its weight in gold. Oh yes, we also met dozens of Moreko, but they came in small groups, and we dealt with them fairly easily.
I went out a total of seven times, which caused Teng to call me battle-crazy. I think he meant it as a joke or a compliment, but I think he’s closer to the truth than he knows. My whole body hurt and I could barely walk when I was done. Negi threatened to shoot me if I went down again. I think I’m rubbing off on him.
Day 157. Comrade Zhu.
The chopper arrived around noon, and to be honest, none of us had bargained for how much of an effort we’d have to make to accommodate our new guests. It soon became a bit of a comedy of errors, though none of us were laughing.
The moment we saw the huge chopper bearing down on us, we knew there was no way it could land on the helipad with the old Cheetah parked there where it had been left by Bharti’s men. It may have been officially classified as a ‘light’ helicopter, but there’s nothing light about a chopper that weighs close to a ton when you have nothing but muscle power and ropes, since the only qualified pilots had died in the fighting. It took us half an hour to budge it, and all of us were panting and sweating despite the cold when the general’s chopper landed.
Comrade General Zhu is the kind of man I develop an instant dislike for – he’s way too smug, wears rows of military ribbons as if he’s out in a ceremonial parade, and insists on talking through an interpreter, though I’m quite sure he understands English. I learned the last bit when I asked Negi where the medal-wearing sloth was, and then turned to see the General behind me, giving me a dirty glare. As you can see, I’m at my usual sparkling best when it comes to making friends and influencing people.
Anyways, the general’s been debriefing with Teng all morning and he wants to meet us over dinner. I wonder what he has in mind. The rest of the gang is excited at meeting him – there’s something about human psychology that makes us instantly look up to and obey authority figures. Throw in a new uniform and medals, and you can’t go wrong. Negi and I had a brief chat, and he must have seen the skepticism in my eyes, and he’s just asking me to keep an open mind. Fair enough.
Day 158. No such thing as a free lunch.
After dinner, everybody gathered in the living room, and there were so many of us there that we finally agreed to hold the gathering in the front lawn, after lighting a couple of small campfires to keep warm. Comrade Zhu was looking quite pleased, and his cheeks were tinged pink. Whether that was due to the cold or the tequila I had seen him drinking I couldn’t tell. Teng was standing next to him, and when he looked at me, I knew something was wrong.
Then Zhu began speaking, with Teng interpreting for us. He spoke a lot, and I got the distinct feeling that Teng was giving us the condensed version, because Zhu would launch into rapid-fire Mandarin for a couple of minutes and then Teng would say, ‘I am very happy to be here.’ Anyways, the platitudes continued for several minutes and I began to get the feeling that Comrade Zhu may have been better suited to be a politician than to be a soldier. Then he got to the crux of his whole long-winded proposal. It was simple really – he wanted us to go to Tibet, where he claimed his forces were still holding back the undead, and help make a fresh start.
Someone in the crowd began clapping and then many others joined in. I couldn’t blame them – after months of living in Bharti’s camp as slaves, and fighting to survive the Moreko in the forests and hills, Zhu’s offer must have seemed irresistible. A return to some semblance of security and order, with someone legitimate in charge (I do envy Zhu his uniform and medals), and the hope of living in a civilized society again. Zhu asked us to think it over and to let him know the next morning.
When everyone retired for the night, I sought Teng out and asked him what the catch was. Teng may be a good soldier but he is a terrible liar so it was useless for him to pretend he had no idea what I was talking about. So he told me what had happened in Tibet after he and his men were sent over on their patrol.
Another general, supposedly someone senior to Zhu, had survived with some of his troops, and had proclaimed that he was now the leader of the Communist Party of China and the legitimate ruler of whatever remained of China. The two generals were locked in a struggle for control over Tibet and even as we spoke, their forces were pounding each other. The only reason Zhu was here was that he was desperate for manpower. We were to be drafted into his army.
Teng was pissed off. He had actually believed that his brief was a humanitarian mission – to find survivors and bring them to safety – and he had been young and naïve enough to take his orders at face value.
As I go to bed, I am crystal clear in my own mind. There is no way I am going to serve as cannon fodder for Zhu. I really don’t get it – why do men like him insist on fighting over what little remains of our planet? After all we have lost, don’t they understand that there is no point in shedding blood over worthless rocks, hills and pieces of land?
I know how I feel – but I have no idea what my other companions will do. Being alone doesn’t bother me. If it comes to it, I’ll just go back to sitting in this bungalow alone, like I used to.
Day 159. Farewells.
Zhu left in his chopper soon after breakfast along with most of Teng’s troops and another one just came in to pick up those who want to go. With the number of people who have signed up to join him in Tibet, they will probably require another two sorties. The fact that he’s burning so much fuel to get people there speaks a lot to both how desperate he is for manpower and also just how devastated even Tibet must be. If it is really is untouched, he should not have to venture three hundred kilometers out to find volunteers.
Zhu also asked for our Cheetah helicopter, presumably since it could be jury-rigged to use as a gunship more effectively than the bulky transport helicopters he has. I agreed to it, not because I have any desire to help him in his war, but because it was a good deal in terms of what we got in return, which comprised of several tanks of fuel for our generator, supplies of drinking water and canned food and a fresh stock of assault rifles and ammunition.
Initially I was a bit disappointed when more than half our people chose to go with Zhu, even after I got Teng to disclose the full story. Honestly, though, I can’t blame them. Pratik was one of those who chose to leave, and even though he’s a virtual stranger, with all th
at we’ve been through together, he choked up when he boarded the helicopter. He spoke to me before leaving, and though I told him that he owed no explanations to anyone, he insisted on thanking me for all I had done for them. He said that while life in Zhu’s domain might not be perfect, a lot of them just wanted some order, someone to take care of the basics of food and security, instead of having to scavenge for necessities every day. I can empathize, but I don’t think that way. If I have to fight, I may as well fight my own battles. If I have to find freedom and security, let it be on my terms.
When Teng left, we shook hands, and then in a spontaneous gesture that probably surprised both of us, we hugged. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, but he is a good soldier, and a good man. I asked him to stay, but he’s young enough to believe that he still has a duty towards an army, a uniform and a nation which mean nothing in our new world. So he will serve Zhu and whatever form the new Chinese government takes.
So now, it’s just the fifty of us here, including fifteen of Bharti’s troopers led by Ashok and six families with a total of eleven kids. I’m glad Negi chose to stay here. We’re on our own now, and I’ll need all the help I can get to keep us alive.
Day 160. A new beginning.
The first order of business today was to figure out how to house all of us. When situations don’t involve killing Moreko or blowing things up, I’ve learnt to defer to Negi, who, despite his young age, is way smarter than me in matters of peace. He quickly came up with a proposal and we voted on it, with unanimous approval for his idea. So the deal is that the families take one of the bedrooms each – that accounts for almost half of us. Each bedroom is a tight squeeze under normal circumstances for a family, but looking at their faces, I can tell they’re grateful to have a bed for their kids to sleep on. Someone asked if we need to organize a security force, and I stepped in, saying that every single one of us is part of our security force. I had arranged it beforehand with Ashok, and all of his men had lost their old ITBP uniforms – now we are all dressed alike. There would be no more badges of rank or uniform to set people apart. Each of us would have our worth decided by what we did.
That still left the matter of where to keep the rest of us. Negi had another brilliant idea of moving a lot of the furniture and appliances (who needs a wine cooler and a treadmill now?) to the outhouses in the back, freeing up a lot of space inside the bungalow. The dining room is of course our cafeteria, and the living room is now our town hall, where we will meet for any group decisions or discussions. Negi, I and four more men will sleep in the study and ten more will sleep in the living room. At any time, we will have six adults on guard duty, watching the approach and patrolling the premises. As soon as I finish this entry, I need to make the guard roster, and I can hear chopping outside, as Negi and the others break up one of the outhouses and build a new guard shack overlooking the pathway to the bungalow. Having something to do is good – it keeps people too busy to squabble over small things or to worry about the long term. I suspect that we will have plenty to worry about soon enough.
Day 161. Shit happens, and it hurts.
Today is one of those days when I want to get piss drunk and lock myself in a room. Of course, there’s no alcohol left and of course, I don’t have a room I can lock myself in.
One of the problems of living the way we do is that your shame is a public spectacle. Negi keeps coming to me and telling me that I’m being too hard on myself and that nobody holds me responsible for what happened in the morning, but goddammit, I am responsible. I’m the one who influenced people to stay here and then I didn’t think things through. I’m in no mood to write any more. Let me take a walk outside and try and clear my head.
Day 161. Regrets.
How do you make amends for the loss of a life? I tried once earlier when two of my men had been killed by the Chinese, and we all know how well that went. However, I cannot just sit here and do nothing about the fact that a young man lost his life earlier today due to my negligence.
It was a young trooper called Rajiv, and while I had got the guard roster done, I hadn’t laid down any rules about venturing downhill. I had assumed that everybody would get the fact that the Moreko were still down there and it was unsafe to venture down without enough firepower and numbers. What I had not bargained for was that someone needed to make tough calls, and I should not have left it to a twenty-one-year-old kid.
It started in the morning when I heard one of the moms start fretting about not finding her five-year-old son. I assumed the kid was playing somewhere and closed the study door so I could concentrate on working out our food and water stocks. We had enough fuel and ammunition but I anticipated that we would need more water within three days and we’d need to plan another sortie to the city below. That was my first mistake – assuming it was a minor issue.
By the time I heard a ruckus outside and rushed out, rifle in hand, I was way too late.
The kid had gone down the path to the city, chasing after a small kitten that had come up to our property. We should have spotted him, but as luck would have had it, the guards were changing over when he went down. Rajiv saw the kid when he was already down the path and Negi told me later that he came looking for me, but seeing the study door closed, he figured he’d go and get the kid himself. That was my second mistake – I cannot afford to be inaccessible.
The kid was more than halfway down the hill and Rajiv had almost caught up with him when a Moreko ambushed them from behind a large shrub. The Moreko must have been climbing for some time, so clearly our guards failed to spot it. Given that the foothill was dotted with small houses and our guards had been in the middle of a change of duty, a single Moreko could have got up a fair distance, unnoticed.
Rajiv had left his rifle behind, but he put himself between the Moreko and the kid and opened fire with his pistol. He hit the Moreko twice, but at such close range, the Moreko got to him and bit him on the neck. Rajiv went down with the Moreko on top of him, clawing and biting. I was racing down the hill and when the Moreko raised his bloodied face, I shot him in the head. The kid was safe, if terrified, but it was too late for Rajiv.
Despite what Negi says, I am responsible. I cannot add much value to these people’s lives, but one thing I did think I could add was security. To have failed on that is unforgivable. Well, I won’t just sit here and brood over it. It’s time to show my old Moreko friends that I am still king of this fucking hill.
Day 162. Redemption.
When I began walking down the hill carrying a can of fuel and my weapons, people must have thought I had lost it. When I torched the first house, they must have been convinced of it.
The idea was simple enough. I wanted to clear out the area near the foot of the hill so that we’d have clearer line of sight and no more Moreko could come up unnoticed. Of course, that was what I’d tell Negi and anyone else who asked. What I didn’t tell them was the less rational part of my agenda – to attract the Moreko so I could punish them.
They came all right. After the fourth shop had been set ablaze and there was so much smoke around that I had tied a scarf around my nose and mouth because of the smoke and fumes, I heard the first growls.
I put down the fuel can and unslung my rifle as the first Moreko appeared, an old man with a bloody face but an inexplicably clean blue shirt. It had more than a few red spots and holes in it when I finished him with a burst. The second one was a woman, her torso torn apart in several places, her pink saree dragged behind her along the ground. I stopped her with a round to the stomach and then walked up to her, kicking her down and shooting her in the head. In hindsight, walking up to finish Moreko at close range is not far removed from insanity, but I was so pissed off I didn’t care.
If I wanted to attract attention, I had certainly succeeded. A dozen Moreko had soon emerged from among the buildings and were shuffling towards me. I had a special treat for them – two Molotov cocktails I had made with tequila bottles. I lit both with the lighter I was carrying and
flung them in quick succession. The first one landed a bit short but splattered the two lead Moreko with burning fuel. I didn’t think the Moreko felt pain, but they sure shrieked and ran amok through the nearby shops, adding to the inferno I had caused.
The second bottle landed smack on top of a big Moreko wearing shorts and little else. As he burned, he ran among his fellow Moreko, setting two more on fire. I then knelt and shot three more Moreko before I judged they were getting too close for comfort. I walked back up the hill, but as the rage and adrenaline left my system, I didn’t feel any relief. There was nothing but emptiness. Do I still have the capacity to feel anything other than rage?
As I was walking up, the four remaining Moreko were coming behind me, and Ashok and four more men jogged past me and shot them before they got much closer. When I reached the bungalow, it looked as if everyone had gathered to welcome me. Nobody said anything, though Negi just laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and asked me to get some rest. What bothered me was that a few of the folks looked away, as if afraid of me, when I passed them.
I looked at myself in the mirror a few minutes ago. I’ve lost some weight over the past few months, but that I have no regrets about. What was strange was the way my face looked. The one thing my ex-wife liked about me was my eyes. She’d say that for a soldier, I had very soft, dreamy eyes.