by Welke, Ian
I try not to think about it as I rejoin a section of the herd to cover my tracks and make my way back toward the safe zone. I double around the second to last block, but I see no one suspicious.
Satisfied I’m not followed, I head back. I nod an acknowledgment at the spotters, the lookouts. If the mechacops come into the area there’s an array of countermeasures Michael and his team have designed to keep us all safe. But we have had to move in a hurry before, and I don’t want it to come to that again if it can be avoided.
Michael has all sorts of people working for him now. Some are techies. They’ve got security experts high tech and low. There are people working on plans for rebuilding the world after the cure. A mass cure is the main goal. So far this has proven elusive. We’ve been able to cure individuals, but once cured it’s a difficult readjustment for people. Not everyone takes well to freedom. And even the cure for individuals requires constant changing as the enemy updates the virus.
We’ve only been able to deliver a cure locally. A global transmission would be the key to a mass cure, but as yet we’ve been unable to send the necessary packets remotely. This means we have to locate the person’s body. I’ve searched for my mother, but haven’t had any luck yet. I hold out hope that she can be saved.
I see Michael less and less. He’s part of the team that spreads the revolution, setting up chapters in other cities. Setting up a chapter is a long term investment. He has to help them find empty buildings and housing for healed, freed people. The chapter needs to be prepared before we can start instructing them in how to defend themselves and how to heal others. In turn, the chapters set up cottage industries. We have a network to provide for ourselves. Our own little underground.
The word is spreading. It’s a virus in its own right, counteracting what’s been done. Perhaps that’s our hope against the greedy and the powerful. There’s still some out there who won’t be part of the herd. There are some people who won’t give up. A group of people are creating their own droning counter buzz.
Back at my apartment, I work late into the night. I’m covered in paint. Between my own artwork and working on variations of Michael’s counter symbols, I keep busy and my apartment is filled wall to wall with my art. I eye the clock. Things aren’t perfect, but I realize I can do better. Not just for myself, but for everyone. Helping to make things better, I can at last sleep.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank Kate Jonez for her editing superpowers and keen guidance.
Special thanks also goes out to my beta readers and critiquers, particularly: Tom Riordan, Pete Aldin, Ken Hughes, Tony Peak, Holly Abbie, Eric Guignard, Tim Raab, Autumn Humphries, Aronald Harper, Maryann Heimann, as well as the rest of the former Long Beach Writers Group
About the Author
Ian Welke lives in Southern California, but misses the Seattle rain. He earned a Bachelor’s Degree in History and worked in the Computer Games Industry. He’s happy sitting around a table with oddly-shaped dice, sitting at a bar with a whiskey filled glass, or escaping into the pages of books.
His short stories have appeared in Big Pulp, KZine, spacewesterns.com and the Alt-Hist anthology Zombie Jesus and Other True Stories.