Dead End (Book 4): A Very Dark Place

by P. S. Power

  "Thank you. If we have to fight our way out of the room it will be good to have you on my side. I think the real point here is that you don't need a Maitreya or Messiah, all you really need is to work and be together as friends. It isn't that hard. Just try it. If anyone tries to ruin things now, I will shoot you. Just know that, we're so close to having a real chance. Don't ruin it. Please."

  He waited for a while and finally Darian stood too, and put his hand out to the T'srith leader, who looked at him funny for a bit, then passed the knife. He cut his own palm, which bled freely for a few moments.

  "I pledge to work with you all, no matter what that brings. We must stand together."

  That got the knife passed around, which meant that it needed to be cleaned many times as each person made their own kind of pledge or oath. One fellow standing in the back quickly wrote up a contract and went around having people sign it. No one offered it to Jake, but he wasn't the leader of any group or whatnot.

  When it was done he was, rather politely, asked to leave. Just the room he hoped, because he sort of lived at the House again. He could move out, but just because they were getting rid of him, that didn't mean those freaks weren't going to send another doppelganger after him, did it? He still needed to find out about that. If he wasn't The Very Good Man, why had they even had enough information to make a copy of his mom? It was a mystery.

  He preferred action adventure, but hey, they didn't have television, so he couldn't afford to be picky, could he? The idea that his life was just entertainment made him smile for a few minutes as he stood on the back porch. People worked in the kitchen, but no one noticed him as he left. That was fine. He'd lived a whole life as a normal person, he could do it again.

  As Jake stood he noticed something odd off by the barn. It was Ken walking in, holding a hammer. Something about his posture was off though. Angry. Not even bothering to think about it he walked over, entering the building without announcing himself. Ken was holding something to his chest, a small dog.

  It was yellow in color and scrawny. Shivering in the cold. It looked half starved, maybe more than that. As he closed He could hear the whispering.

  "I'm sorry honey. I promised to keep you alive, but I can't get enough food and no one will let you in the House. I'll make the pain stop I..." He was crying.

  Then if Jake had to kill his best friend because of the cold and lack of food he'd cry too.

  "Screw that. Move her to the forge for now, it's warmer in there. Then we'll get some food. We can borrow some from the meat store and replace it. That means we have to go hunting, and be successful, but we aren't killing a pet just because some people are lazy. You carry her over and I'll blow the fire up."

  Ken jumped, but smiled when he saw who it was. It took a second since the only light was from the door behind him, making him into a black shadow.

  "Jake? They said I couldn't go hunting by myself and no one was going, so..."

  That sounded like them. Then it also sounded like Ken to not complain about the situation either. He wasn't a whiner by nature.

  "Oh? Well, I can see that. Still, we can make a trip now I think. Or I can at least. You're still recovering from being shot. We need some bedding too..." Then he left, jogging to the forge first, using the bellows and some regular firewood to increase the temperature in the small space. It didn't have a door, not yet, but he could put a covering on with a sheet of plywood. It hadn't been important yet. Now it was, so they'd make it work. Half an hour later the place was toasty and a nice bit of meat was roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire. It was probably some kind of blacksmith sin to use it that way, but if it saved a life, it was worth it. The grease should burn off anyway.

  They also had several pillows arranged along with some warm, but old looking, blankets, to make a cozy little nest. It wasn't perfect, but the skinny dog stopped shivering and ate the bites of cooked meat given to her slowly. Well, she ate them fast, gulping them down, but Ken was careful not letting her get sick from it.

  Then Jake went and started making a door of sorts, to keep the heat in. It would have to be watched all night long, but that was doable. He might just move a mattress out himself, depending on how betrayed everyone felt by the whole thing with him not being special like they thought.

  It wasn't much of a door, but it had a crude latch on the inside and hinges, so it could open and close. He was just finishing it up when they came for him. It wasn't who he expected, since he wasn't really sure anyone would come out at all, but Lamont, The Grand Comtrice and Sammi walked out alone, somberly.

  Like they were going to a funeral or something. Looking at their faces Jake almost expected them to suddenly smile, or laugh, but they just walked, grim and dark the whole time. The Grand Comtrice didn't make eye contact with him at all. It couldn't, he decided, be a good sign. No one said anything, letting him check the action on the door several times first.

  He glanced at Sammi, since Ken was her friend, almost like an adopted brother. She'd been using her Bawdri ability to influence thoughts to keep him from going into a berserker meltdown for nearly the whole time they'd been at the House. Now that he thought about it that was pretty clear. The girl had subtly been influencing a lot of people. Probably him too, though he tried to call her on it when he noticed it happening.

  He decided to take the bull by the horns and turned to look at them, nails between his lips trying to freeze in place.

  "The barn dog was starving and too cold. We're moving her in here for now, since no one wants her inside. I'll go hunting to make sure she has food." It wasn't exactly what he wanted to say. It was a stalling tactic in fact, since the people inside would be pissed about him not being who they thought, wouldn't they?

  If you found out that your messiah was a fraud it could impact a lot of things, couldn't it? At least these three were kind of in it with him. A little bit. Enough so that they probably weren't the ones sent to kill him. Jake looked at them though and wondered what he could do if they had been? The Grand Comtrice was the dangerous one really, old as she was. If he failed to take her with the first shot he could lose the whole thing. He could get around Lamont by not thinking, and Sammi...

  That would just be hard.

  As old as she was the woman still had the proportional speed and strength of a girl. She was a good shot, but not armed as far as he could tell. He was, so that could help him. Not that he could shoot her easily. They were friends. If he tried he'd probably have to kill Ken too...

  Which would suck. The big problem was that if he was attacked he didn't really think he could stop himself from fighting anymore. He'd do it and not stop, no matter who was after him. It was a liability in civilized society, but for the moment it was just about survival.

  The leader of the Telepaths took a sudden deep breath and shook his head slowly, letting his right hand float forward a bit as if trying to stop what was about to happen.

  "We're not here to kill you Jake. Or hurt you in any way." That got the other two to take a step back as if a real fight were about to start anyway.

  Sammi spoke though, her blond hair pulled back into a bun-like thing on the top of her head. It looked a little funny, but added years to her too. She also had make-up on, Jake noticed. She hadn't before. It was an odd thing to stop and do, wasn't it? It kind of made her look like one of those little girl beauty pageant prosti-tots from Back Before.

  "No! Nothing like that. Not us at least. Some of the others feel tricked. We told them it was all us, our fault, but a lot of them don't really believe that. I think it's only the fact that Yalla and Kerras keep saying they'll take anyone trying to kill you as a personal affront that is preventing an attack on you right now. That and that a lot of the warriors flat out refused to fight you at all. The Denari leader said he didn't want that many of his people to die. On the good side everyone agrees that we should be working on stopping the zombie plague first, like you said. I..." She looked down, as if the next words were going to hurt.

>   "They... want you to leave Jake."

  He'd figured it would be something like that, so just nodded. It wasn't fair, since this was supposed to be his House, but he couldn't fight them all either, if they wanted to enforce it. There were too many of them, with too many strange powers.

  Lamont explained the whole thing though, which sounded so much worse than him just being asked to move to a new place again.

  "They're... I guess the correct term would be "shunning" you. No one is supposed to deal with you, aid you or give you comfort at all. If they do it will be war with all the others. They aren't just asking you to leave just here, but to leave the world. Forever and to never come back."

  "Oh."

  Well, that was nice of them. It was basically meant to be a death sentence. One that didn't allow him to fight it either. He couldn't lash out at anyone, because they were all being good and just making an uncomfortable problem go away.

  The funny thing there was that the instant it was said he realized something. He just didn't care. It was stupid of them to blame him, but then people, when they were hurt and angry, were morons, weren't they? He'd had his own time spent doing that. Now it was everyone else's turn.

  "Alright. I'll get my things and go. Or are they insisting I have nothing at all?"

  That got a sob from The Grand Comtrice, who started crying, which didn't match her normally stately demeanor.

  "That... Only what you can carry in a small sack. I..." She stopped and didn't start again, just looking away.

  It would have to be ammo and tools then. Jake had hidden enough at his other house to get through the winter, just in case something happened. If Sara and Donald could be trusted he was functionally immune to zombies now too. That meant he just had to be ready for the cannibals and nature. Well, that and anyone that felt too wronged and was looking for a spot of revenge against the fake Very Good Man.

  How anyone had ever bought that to begin with he didn't know.

  Dropping the hammer he went to make it all happen. No one spoke to him at all, that being a big part of shunning someone no doubt, so it didn't take long. Half an hour later he walked away into the snow, alone.

  Again.

  Maybe this was what had always been going to happen though? That he'd survived this long was a bit of a miracle anyway. He just hoped they'd all keep it together well enough to actually do what was needed. They had a new figurehead now, one clearly better suited to it than he'd ever been, but her orders had to pretty much involve things like saying "goo" and "gah-gah" for a while at least. Then there would probably be some demands for cookies... They had to do the real work for themselves.

  Without him. It was a relief. Jake let a little smile touch his lips as he left, holding the pillowcase he'd loaded with ammunition and shot in his left hand, his air rifle sticking out of the top. No one claimed that was cheating at least. As he left he thought he heard a single male voice mutter something from the back.

  "This is so wrong. We're all going to have to pay for this. It wasn't his fault."

  Who it was Jake couldn't tell, but that probably didn't matter. It was kind of nice to know that at least one person didn't hate him. Or, well, not blaming him didn't mean that, did it? But still it was good to hear.

  It took a while to get to his new house and then there was another problem, since someone else was living there. He hadn't thought about it, but several of the people from the House proper hadn't been around at all for the last month. George and Billi came to the door, weapons in hand and he noticed a single rifle aiming at him from one of the upper windows. Robin most likely. Standing in the hallway so she could cover the front of the place.

  "Damn." He said it softly, even though there shouldn't be any dead walking in the area at all, it was habit and they wouldn't know about the new developments yet, meaning they might shoot him if he got loud.

  "Hi all." He sounded tired, but that was just depression trying to climb in to his soul, after all it wasn't everyday that you got shunned from society was it?

  "Jake! Long time no see. Is that a present for us?" Billi smiled warmly, her face slightly less lean than it had been, her smile white and even against her dark skin. She was wearing blue jeans and a warm looking pink sweater over a longer shirt. George smiled too, her hair a little longer now that she wasn't pretending to be a man for safety while traveling.

  He shook his head, fighting for his own smile.

  "Nope. This is the sum of my worldly possessions. All the leaders of the world found out that Sammi and some of the others had tricked them into thinking I was The Very Good Man, so they retaliated by kicking me out. Of everything. No one is supposed to talk to me even. So... I came to live here. I forgot that anyone else would be here. I don't know if I can stay. They might not do business with you if I'm here. I'll take off in the morning, if I can stay the night? It might be a risk..." But he couldn't survive the cold, not just with the clothing on his back.

  No one said anything for a long time though, until Jill, the women's leader, pushed toward the front and grabbed his arm gently, pulling him in. She'd heard it all at least, so he didn't have to try and explain it all again. It let them shut the door, holding in more heat as Robin ran down the stairs, weapon still in hand. She had to be told though, which took another couple of seconds. It wasn't much of a story, was it?

  "Fuck that." She offered succinctly.

  "You live here and I don't care what they say, we aren't casting you out into the cold just because der widdle feelings got hurt. You kept them together when no one else could. What happened though? I mean, why didn't you all just keep lying about it?"

  "Oh... Well, some happy news I guess. Hope... Um, Heather's daughter? She had her baby. She seems to be the real deal, and it's kind of obvious, so you know, no more need for me. I think Sammi explained it all to try and protect me, not that she wasn't being honest, but no one really believed her for some reason. They can't touch her, Lamont or The Grand Comtrice, so they went after me instead. Trying to go after them would mean fighting wars. I'm just a single guy though. Scapegoat your name is me." He sighed.

  "Also, we seem to have a cure for the zombie plague. Some of the remaining Technologists came and have worked out a compound that can clear a vast area. Kind of cool really. We should go and steal some as soon as we can. Or you should get some anyway. I don't want to get anyone in trouble. I'll find someplace else." He set the bag down though as they asked questions about the cure, which got them to all traipse off to the pile of undead to see if it had worked there too. It was only three miles from the House, but it was kind of neat seeing that the formerly writhing pile was unmoving now.

  Billi started crying.

  "So this is finally over?" She sounded so relieved that Jake didn't have the heart to remind her that it wasn't yet. There was a lot of work to get done first. A whole lot.

  They took him in anyway and fed him dinner, not mentioning what had happened, excited that the main problem of the world looked to be solvable. He was falling into shock, but it wasn't for the reason that the others thought. Sure, he was outside of society now, but he really always had been. Or at least that had been the case since Rachel left him. It was a known thing to him. He could be alone, or with people and not suffer for the lack when it came. No one loved him now, but that had never been a real thing for him anyway, so it was easy to transition back to the idea that he'd die alone.

  No, the shock was due to the end of things. He'd reshaped himself into a killer, into a leader of sorts, because it had been needed. Now the whole world was telling him that was done. That they didn't need him at all. It only left the killer, but soon that wouldn't be needed either. Then what would he be? Was there anything left inside him other than that? Could he shift again into something different?

  There was music and singing, but in a world that he wasn't allowed to be part of that wasn't such a great idea. Song was always for other people. He sang to make them happy, to help them feel alive and to touch them. T
here was no point without an audience, was there? What did that leave then?

  Only death.

  That would come though. Jake was ready for it. He had been for the better part of a year. Once it was all over he could let go for the final time and no one would miss him. He smiled at the women as they tucked him into the bed in the kitchen. It was his after all, and even though it was warmer than anyplace else in the little dwelling, no one had been using it. Then they left him alone, finding their own beds early, the day's work done.

  At first it didn't seem like he could sleep, but he did, a nice dreamless one, without nightmares or waking up in a cold sweat at all. He got up early and started a fire under the water heater for a scrub up, got the woodstoves going and made a point of shaving and getting into a spare pair of clean clothes. Then he went to the barn, got his little wagon that was made of sticks and spare parts lifted from in town and started walking, heading into town.

  They had another wagon at least and this one was undeniably his. He felt a little bad about leaving without saying goodbye, but they might have felt obligated to let him stay, even though it would hurt them in the long run. He didn't have to be some kind of messiah to not want his friends hurt by him being around. The road was mainly a clean looking snow covered path that was both pretty and hard to move on. On the good side it meant he was able to shoot a deer halfway to town and then drape it over a branch to drain the blood, then skin it using a small blade he'd made for it. Thankfully he had two knives with him, as well as his nine and forty-five. He'd have to be careful with the ammunition though and hunt for smaller game when he could, using the air-rifle, if it would work.

  This would give him some food though, if he could find a place where he could have a fire that night. If not he'd die, but that was fine. No one expected him to live anyway, right?