Free World Apocalypse - Genesis

by T. K. Malone

  That plan had now gone out of the window at Noodle’s heavy trigger finger, but then a number of APCs were spotted, parked up behind the stockade. Wheeled and not tracked, they looked like just the beasts they needed for the next part of their mission, though Zac would have preferred they’d a gun turret or two. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Zac muttered to himself as bullets zinged perilously close by. Now running, they spilled through between the containers, Zac and Billy bringing up the rear and fighting off attack, while Pauly, Spritzer and Pogo rushed forward and hot-wired an APC each.

  Zac said, firing off another burst and downing a few more soldiers.

  Billy Flynn grunted.

  Zac let fly again, and when no more enemy appeared, pushed on toward the APCs.

  Billy backed into the closest APC.

  Zac jumped in.

  As the vehicles lurched forward, a hail of bullets tore into their sides, but they were soon out of range. Zac took off his HUD and sat back, fishing in his combats for a pack of Saggers. “Now, this here smoke, Billy Flynn, is well worth all the hassle.”

  Billy Flynn nodded and caught the pack when Zac tossed it to him. Lighting his own, Billy looked up at the APC’s roof, as if staring straight through it at the sky.

  “Aye, Zac, they sure are.”

  “And I do,” Zac muttered. “I do miss the bar a bit. Sure, it was boring. Sure, it was one day after the next, but I had time to think. Out here, seems yer thinkin’s done for you. Seems fate steers the boat an’ you’re just a passenger.”

  Billy shrugged. “We’re in the middle of a fookin’ apocalypse, what d’ya expect? A tea party?”

  “Would have been nice.”

  “We still hittin’ the road after all this?”

  Zac let out a sigh. “When we’re done, Billy; when we’re done.” But Billy had already fallen asleep, and at the sight, tiredness washed over Zac, and he too drifted off.

  “What have we stopped for?” Zac shouted at the intercom.

  “Got a problem, Zac,” Spritzer’s voice came back.

  “What’s up?”

  “Looks like Pauly and Pebbles have pulled up. Pauly’s got his hands up, but Pebbles and Pogo look like they’re in the mood for a standoff.”

  “Standoff from what?”

  “I’m guessin’ the soldiers who just jumped out at us.”

  Zac looked at Billy, but got nothing back. The other two bikers in the back, Sammy and Sidecar, shrugged their shoulders too. Billy tried to get the lookout hatch open, but made a meal of it.

  “Quit panicking, Zac,” Spritzer called. “Ain’t The Free World.”

  “Who the fuck is it, then? Is it Renshaw’s mob?”

  “Don’t look like Renshaw’s. Ain’t got that fancy-assed uniform like you ‘n Billy.”

  “Then who?”

  “Not a clue. Hang on; we’re being waved on.”

  “Where to?”

  “How should I know? Pauly’s giving us the thumbs-up.”

  “Let’s hope he knows what he’s doing.” And as they moved off again, Zac could hear the other APCs following them.

  They sat in silence. Not knowing was what was killing Zac. It felt like being transported to a slaughterhouse. Billy had finally worked out how to open some flaps, what he reckoned were gun hatches, but they revealed nothing but the passing redwoods.

  “We’re up in the mountains,” he remarked.

  Zac looked at Sammy and Sidecar, neither of whom had said a word. Zac guessed they were fairly new to the club—probably straight out of Christmas and no doubt a bit surprised to be riding along with Zac and Billy.

  “Either of you two got any idea who’s up here in this valley?” Zac growled. The tin can they were in was getting mighty hot.

  Neither looked like they wanted to own the question, clearly because they didn’t have an answer. Although everyone thought there was no other armed force up here but for The Free World army, or at a stretch, Renshaw’s group, Spritzer had assured Zac that that wasn’t the case.

  “Nothin’?” Zac barked.

  Sidecar attempted a mutter but failed. Sammy just shuffled uneasily.

  “Well, that’s some fuckin’ militia that’s just sprung up outta nowhere, and this far down the valley?” Zac looked up at the intercom. “We are going the right way, aren’t we?” he shouted.

  “Down to the fork in the road that leads to the Meyers' retreat, yep.”

  “What are them soldiers drivin’?”

  “They got in with Pauly and Pebbles.”

  “We’re giving them a bloody lift?” Zac was now almost clawing at the sides of the APC. “Get Pauly on the… Get him on…whatever these things use to communicate.”

  “Ain’t workin’, or ain’t answering. Anyhow, were being signaled to pull up, by the look of it.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m guessin’ it’s because it’s the middle of the night.”

  Zac let out a long sigh and waited.

  Spritzer opened the rear door. “Looks like they’re friendly fire,” he beamed.

  “Out here?” Zac jumped out and went to see Pauly, who was now talking with one of the mystery force. The man had an HUD on and the same combats as everyone else in Project Firebird, like the ones they’d taken from Charm’s stash. “Zac Clay?” the man said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Name’s Justin. Friend’s call me Juzzo. Seems we’re travelin’ to the same place.”

  “Meyers' retreat?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “And just who told you to go there?”

  “Teah.”

  Juzzo told Zac how Teah had stopped the first soldiers coming over the ridge, and how she’d told them to seek out the Meyers' retreat and then hold tight, to “Wait there fer the fireworks” as she’d put it.

  It confirmed what Karina Drey had told Zac, that Teah was indeed making her way there, that this whole thing was gravitating toward that one piece of land. Now he thought that maybe Karina had underestimated Teah’s will, and maybe underestimated her planning.

  Zac knew that Charm was there, and Renshaw, Irving and Walter. Jake, and Laura Meyers were also there; every “Player.” His father had been fond of thinking that all the main characters would come together in the end, but then, not everyone was going to be there. Love him or loathe him, Grimes wouldn’t be. And as far as Zac knew, nor would his father. And Karina Drey wouldn’t be there, either. She deserved to be; she’d put herself right in the middle of a clusterfuck just to get them all this far.

  Zac’s newly expanded group just went around and around in circles trying to guess Teah’s plan, eventually falling asleep in their APCs, ones they abandoned earlier the next day. There was no way they couldn’t drive them straight into the Meyers' place, though Noodle had wanted to. Now they pressed on, on foot through the redwoods, not a clue as to where Teah might be, uncertain if Karina Drey was still holding out and tying up Banks.

  They eventually climbed to the ridge that divided the two valleys, where, as Zac remembered, there was a lookout point. He hoped it was one of Renshaw’s, but then realized he was past caring. In a way he was hoping for a confrontation. The trek had eaten up most of the day, a few gripes and groans now coming from the column behind.

  They decided to strike camp just over the ridge, knowing it to be unwise to sneak up on Renshaw or Meyers, not at night, and certainly not now they were exhausted. The term “camp” turned out to be a loose one, though: no fire, no tents, just pine needles for mattresses, the redwoods as blankets and rocks for pillows. Sometime in the middle of the night, Zac heard a distant blast, one that told him Karina Drey had at last made her final play, and he wished her well.

  21

  Teah’s Story

  Strike time: plus 17 days

  Location: The Meyers' Retreat

  Teah drove through the night, taking the old roa
d, the one that wound its way steadily up, turning back on itself again and again. She remembered this road, driving up it with Marge, hiding under a blanket in the back. Marge had lost control at some point and had careened off the road. Marge had died, back then when Teah had been running and Clay had been safe within her.

  Her temper rose when she remembered Roy and Kin’ell, but not high enough to bring on anger, more an ice-cold seething. She stopped the truck and listened, hearing only Connor whimpering in the back. He was getting worse. She was sure he was going to split in two.

  She floored the gas, pushing the truck off the road up the valley and onto the side trail that led to the Meyers. The truck slewed through the bends, its back end flying out, the rear wheels just staying on the road. Up and up she pushed the truck, hunched over the steering wheel, her knuckles as white as the stars. Then a flicker of light came through the redwoods, and ahead of her, the road leveled off and the bends became shallower. Bumping the truck up a gear, she floored the gas again, the engine screaming in protest.

  Then she heard shots ring out in the distance, and bullets peppered the truck. She wondered if Connor was in danger as she raced between the redwoods and into the midst of log cabins that lined the road. Skidding to a halt right outside the largest, she jumped out and ran around to the back, pulling Connor out despite the guns now being leveled at her. She carried him to the cabin, ignoring the shouted challenges, and stopped at its glass-fronted door. There were two old men behind it, one standing, the other in a wheelchair. She held their gazes before setting Connor down on the stoop and raising her hands. Lacing her fingers behind her head, she knelt on the stoop.

  When Teah awoke, she was in what appeared to be a cell, plank-wood walls on three sides, some form of clear plastic on the fourth, a door of the same material within it. Beyond this was a narrow walkway, and opposite, an identical cell; except that it had Jake in it.

  “Took yer time,” he said.

  “Got here, though.”

  “That you did.”

  “You seen Connor?”

  “Nope, he’s not visited. You gotta plan?”

  “Had one,” Teah muttered, swinging her booted feet off the bed, sitting up and looking straight at Jake.

  “What happened to it?”

  Teah scratched her head and wondered where the cattleman had gone.

  “It got hijacked.”

  “Hijacked?”

  “Yep. Haven’t got much of a memory about what happened. Far as I knew I was gonna wake up in a house in the middle of the valley. Say, am I where I think I am?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Where you think you are.” Jake drew nearer his own clear-plastic wall.

  “Fuck off, Jake.”

  “That you or yer friend with that foul mouth?”

  “Where’s Charm?”

  “Josiah? He got himself one of those fancy rooms with the crystaline walls. I imagine he’s done a deal to save his skin. I think he said he’d deliver you up to them in return fer some continent or other, and whaddya know? Here you are.”

  “Yeah, whaddya know. Say, you gotta plan yourself?”

  Jake shook his head. “I ain’t the one with some kinda god in me. Say, you gotta smoke?”

  Teah patted herself down. “Yep.” She lit one. “No way of getting’ it to you, though.”

  “I was thinkin’ more of you setting yer cell on fire with the lighter.”

  “What? With me in it?”

  “Yep. Guessin’ that AI in you would then have to save you, and you never know, it might save me, too.”

  Teah studied the plastic and the wood, her AI concluding that the plastic was thirty percent more combustible than the wood. She scratched her head, then started peeling the skins back from all her smokes. Eventually, she had a small pile of kindling tucked into the corner of the cell.

  “Slow burn,” Jake said. “Nice.”

  She flipped the lighter.

  Slow burn had been a correct description, but the flames did eventually begin to turn the plastic molten, soon beginning to fizz, splutter and catch fire. Before she knew it, the cell’s front wall was ablaze, black smoke soon curling around her, choking her. She expected sprinklers or someone to come running in, but nothing happened, just the cloying smoke and the sound of Jake’s laughter.

  Her temper rose as she rasped and coughed, the smoke now filling her lungs, her body rebelling against the invasion. As she began frantically searching for a way out, water started spraying down upon her, dousing the flames and covering her in wet, black soot. For the first time, she noticed figures beyond the now-distorted and half-melted plastic wall, and there stood Charm, looking in at her, an old man standing beside him, another on his other side in a wheelchair.

  “See,” Charm said, “I told you, didn’t I? I said: ‘Don’t kid yourself; that Sable’s hidden some bit of herself somewhere.’ I said that, didn’t I? Hidden some bit of herself inside that woman, there.” He pointed at Teah.

  “So,” growled the man in the wheelchair, “just how are we going to get it out?”

  “Not so much how, Irving, more who. You’re just going to have to revert to tried and trusted methods.”

  “Again?” Irving said as he wheeled himself away. Walter stopped to let Jake out, giving Teah a lopsided wink as he did so, then he fell in behind the old men as they vanished out of sight.

  Teah sat there, confused at first. Had Jake just tricked her again? Was she that much of a sucker? She waited and waited, and then she heard a continuous squeak and a different wheelchair came into view, an empty one. Her heart went ice-cold at the sight of it. It was soon followed by a man, who looked into the cell. “Kin’ell, Roy, it is her.” And then another man came into view. He had a stoop, a cosh hanging at his side and keys jangling in his hand, one of which he placed into the lock of the plastic door. It opened and he smiled. “Well, well, well, Kin’ell,” he said, and unclipped the cosh.

  Teah was at him before she’d even thought, her hatred for the world and everything it stood for now complete. She realized she had Roy by his throat, pushing him across the walkway, past a stunned Kin’ell, before they crashed into Jake’s old cell. Somehow, she had the cosh in her hand, raising it high above her head.

  “Well,” she shouted as she smashed it against the side of his head. “Well,” she screamed as she raised it again. “Well, fucking, well,” she spat as she brought the cosh down hard, all-powerful and single-minded revenge raging through her mind. Then, as Roy’s inert body slumped to the floor, Teah turned on Kin’ell, the man still rooted to the spot. Now composed, she brushed splatters of Roy’s brain matter from her clothes and quietly sat in the wheelchair. She stood over him. “Ten years, ten fuckin’ years and you didn’t even fight back.” She gave his bloodied corpse one final kick. “Ten years, you know what? You weren’t worth it.” Then she turned to Kin’ell. He was rooted to his spot.

  “Me ‘n you,” she said. “We gonna have a deal up. You strap me in loose, loose mind or I’ll bust you up right now, then take me where you were gonna take me, and I’ll—”

  “Let me go?” he asked.

  “Give you a head start. A longer head start, the more you behave.”

  It took Kin’ell a while to strap her in, his hands were shaking so much. He didn’t even try to escape, just wheeled her out of the cellblock and into the morning sun. She drew plenty of looks as she was trundled through the retreat, her head carefully left lolling to one side, her clothes covered in Ray’s blood. She already looked the victim.

  Each of the cabins was connected by small walkways, like a forest trail, all seeming to lead to isolated cabins set back into the redwoods. Kin’ell pulled up at one and stepped the wheelchair’s brake on, then knocked. Teah peered up through her eyebrows, her head still lolling, and recognized Sumner’s lower half answer the door.

  “And what does Meyers want me to do with that?” he asked.

  “Irving wants her to give up the
AI, that’s all.”

  “Does she have to live?”

  “Haven’t been told so.”

  Sumner hesitated, then stepped out of the way. “Wheel her in, then.” She was wheeled inside. “Tip her on the floor; this shouldn’t take long.”

  Kin’ell undid her bonds and did as he’d been asked, Teah tumbling to a convincingly unconscious heap.

  “Where’s Roy?” Sumner asked, his back to them as he put on a white coat, blue latex gloves and a face mask. The tools of his trade were laid out on a table beside him, but he’d only got to adjusting his spectacles in a mirror above it when his eyes went wide. Teah’s blood-splattered face rose up over his shoulder, her palm soon wrapped around his mouth, cutting off his scream, her other grabbing one of the man’s scalpels.

  Afterward, Kin’ell strapped her back into the wheelchair and wheeled her out of the cabin, squeaking all the way down the trail. She drew even more looks as they went along the main trail toward the Meyers' house, now soaked in two men’s blood.

  “I take it you want to see Jevans,” Kin’ell said.

  “He’s here?”

  “Sure, but tell me: didn’t you die?”

  Teah was now exhausted. The fires of her revenge had almost been sated. “I can’t die,” she muttered, and knew it was probably the truth while she had Sable within her. Maybe, she thought, the AI wouldn’t want to be in her after her next encounter. But then, maybe it was the AI that had fuelled her rage all along.

  Jevans came to the door and ushered them into his cabin with ill-concealed enthusiasm. “Never, never did I think we’d meet again. He shoved Kin’ell out of the way and wheeled Teah farther into his lair. “You can go,” he ordered Kin’ell, and the man needed no second invitation. Jevans untied Teah and lifted her onto a consultation bed.