by P. S. Power
That night He slept alone in his own tent, kind of wondering if people were just messing with him for some reason. He didn't even know Willa and while it was flattering, he kind of figured that he'd die alone. Like it was too late for him to find love. Maybe it always had been?
It wasn't a thing that made him happy to think of, but it felt right anymore. Once upon a time he'd wanted to be loved, or at least appreciated, but now it all felt hollow and void of meaning. It wasn't fair of him to think that way though. Sammi really seemed to like him, as messed up a that whole thing was. Cam too. If he was just a little bit more of a perv he could be off having sex at that moment, instead of lying on his stomach trying to keep his back from aching too much. Instead he was all alone again, wondering if that part of his life would change before he died. There seemed like a chance now, if he could get himself to take it.
Jake took a breath and decided he was going to do it. Vicki first, if she really wanted to, since they were going out and all that. Then he'd see what happened. Vals didn't marry, Jake didn't think, so it might by unfair to expect her to do that, wouldn't it? He could see what was up with Colleen at least. That felt like a lost cause, but hey, they were friends, right? Heather had said that she'd always loved him, even Back Before and no one had told him otherwise. The thing with Derrick sucked, but a lot of women had thought they loved him, hadn't they? It wasn't her fault. She hadn't even had a chance to resist him.
Willa was a puzzle though. He really needed to check that situation out. Why would she want anything to do with him at all? It was far too sudden there. Maybe get her checked out to make sure she wasn't a bomb or something?
With that thought he fell asleep, a bit fitfully, feeling better in the morning if not super well rested. It was a strange idea, but other people started to take over the things he'd been doing for the most part, catching on to their jobs, which meant that he didn't have a whole lot to do for the day. He went back to the House to see about his forge work, only to find a short squat man there working already.
"Bellows." He called to Henry, who was working a good bit faster than he normally did. The little man had a great beard, which was nearly coal black, some gray sprinkled in to show he wasn't a young person. His clothing was leather and he wore a heavy apron to protect his clothing. The thing he was making was just a knife, if something that looked that fine could ever be "just" anything. Jake watched for a while, but left, realizing that he wasn't needed there for that anymore. Not if they had a real smith now. One of the Vulcans too.
The name made him smile again, but he got the reference. Vulcan was the god of the forge. The perfect smith. Jake was, at best, some monkey hammering at stuff hoping to get lucky by comparison. That was fine though. He didn't need to be there really, it was just something to keep him from getting bored. Inside the House was a lot quieter than it had been lately, the press of bodies way lighter. There were people, but instead of hundreds it was more like fifty or so. They could have all been underground, but he didn't think so. Most of the regular Humans were gone.
Spread to different places for safety. The only odd part of things there was that Heather and Hope walked into the room as he stood looking around.
"It came back." The girl didn't explain what she meant, it wasn't the blimp or anything but the future that she meant. She looked exhausted again too.
"Bad?"
"No... not all of it. Jake... we need to talk. I... you need to get ready. I can't tell you what's going to happen, because you won't survive it if I do, but it's going to be bad. For you. Just remember to not give up. When you feel like you should, like it doesn't matter, remember that people really do need you. Also... Extra ammo. You won't notice it if you have it, but if you don't you're dead." She didn't explain any more than that though, just wandering out before he could even say hello to Hope.
"So there's that." He muttered it under his breath, but no one seemed to notice.
It was a strange feeling not having anything to really do for once. Everyone else had really been stepping up and taking care of it all though, hadn't they? Cam had wandered off even, finding someone to talk to about a side project, one that didn't involve him at all.
Jake smiled and went outside, remembering what Heather had said he headed down to the armory and doubled the ammo he was carrying. Then added an extra clip for the nine millimeter, since he used that most often. She wouldn't have said it if it wasn't real, most likely.
True, given her track record it could be that he needed the extra weight for something, rather than bullets, but whatever. He'd promised her once that he'd try to do what she told him, as long as she refrained from messing with his life if she could. It seemed like that kind of situation now.
Then he walked around to the front of the building, trying to see who was around, if anyone he knew was left at all. Oddly enough he found Mort there. Or more to the point the man came running around the corner of the House after him, dressed in his normal all black work outfit.
"There you are. We have a meeting in a few minutes. I forgot the mention it earlier. Sorry about that, I actually forgot, if you can believe it. You look dressed for it though." He reached out gently, taking Jake's arm and vanishing before he could get his eyes closed at all.
That meant that they came out on the other side with Jake trying to retch without lying down in the deep snow at their feet, sinking in to his knees instantly. It was hard to focus on anything, feeling as sick and off balance as he was, but he could tell something was wrong. It was a forest, not a regular meeting place at all. They were barely even in a clearing.
Mort looked around and then back at him suddenly, face baffled.
"I... What?" It was like he tried to speak to someone that wasn't there.
"No..."
Then, without warning, before Jake could even stand up straight, the guy vanished. Leaving him there. As soon as he could stand Jake dug into his pocket and pulled out a capsule, emptying it to the slight breeze, hoping it would spread well enough in the dense trees. It wasn't an evergreen forest, so he couldn't really tell where he was at all. Trying not to panic he waited in place, hoping that Mort would be right back. He'd seemed a little out of it though, confused and like he didn't understand something.
After an hour Jake realized that he needed to move. He had to have some kind of shelter and ideally a fire, or he was going to die if no one came back for him. Just because there were no signs of the undead didn't mean he was safe either. The nano compound did diddly-squat against bears for instance. The only thing was, even though he knew that he'd need shelter, fire and food he really didn't have anything to get that with. He did have some matches on him, in a little container that he carried almost everywhere, so there was that. A knife too, and he could hunt if there was anything to eat.
But a snow shelter? Even building a fire in the snow...
He didn't have much of a clue at all.
He didn't even have gloves on. It was cold already and would be more so as it got dark. The first thing he did, as silly as it felt like to him, was to take off his socks and put his boots back on, then the slightly damp things went onto his hands. It wasn't perfect, but better than brushing the snow with his bare skin. Then he quickly made a tiny structure just big enough to sit in, using tree branches and packed snow. It wasn't very good, but let him clear a patch on the ground. wood was a problem, since it was all buried under the masses of white. If he could get the thing hot enough any wood would do, even the green stuff, but he didn't have a lot of time to make mistakes. Once it got dark he was going to be stuck with whatever he had. The sun was still up in the sky nicely enough, but that could mean anything from a few hours of light to another half of one, depending on where he was.
He scrambled, activity keeping him warm for the time being. He had to set the fire up away from his little snow fort though, or it would melt. There was some dry bits and pieces under some logs, which he got to by kicking them over. His hands were freezing already, impromptu mitt
ens or not. Those had to come off for the actual fire starting though, which still took him three matches. He had six on him. Once going he wasn't going to want the thing to go out at all.
He had a fire before dark and managed to get a good collection of wood for it, including a couple of logs that weren't too heavy to drag around. Once the fire was hot enough, blowing on it for just a bit extra heat, he slowly lowered one of the log onto the blaze. It dimmed for a little bit, the ice stuck into the bark melting, trying to damp the flames. Jake responded with more blowing, a frantic thing that alternated deep breaths of clean but frigid air with lungs full of bitter smoke. Coughing mightily he kept going, not knowing if he could get another flame going before dark if this one failed. After a while, dizzy and ready to just give up, the whole thing started burning pretty well. It even grew a little bigger. He wasn't going for a bonfire or anything, but he needed enough heat to reach the open part of his little structure. Not too much though, or it would all melt. Just enough to get it above freezing. He propped some bark up behind the fire for that, then worked to cover the snow inside on the floor with leaves and debris. It would be warmer than just being directly on the wet after all.
That night he dozed a bit, not having anything to do, thinking about what had happened. Putting it all together piece by portion, information about things dripping into his mind slowly, as if frozen by the cold air around him. He busied himself as he could, drying his socks on sticks for entertainment, tending the fire and trying not to let his hand or feet freeze solid.
The key was with Morten though. It had to be.
When Alyssian had been kidnapped, one of the men, who was wearing a mask, had taken her away by teleportation she'd said. That could be anyone though. Even a Technologist with the right toy. The thing there was that later, when they'd been about to be blown up by his mother's lookalike in the jungle, Mort had whisked them all away in a panic...
Not to his own home, but to the place along the Lake where Alyssian had been taken. He'd brushed it off at the time, saying that he'd been practicing going there for his job and indicating that when startled it wasn't odd to go to someplace like that. Even Cam had seemed to think it was reasonable.
What if it had been something like that, but different? What if Mort had been there, to get Alyssian, instead of just practicing?
On the good side earlier he'd seemed confused and disoriented, like someone might have been talking to him, telling him what to do. OK, sure, that wasn't great for Jake in the moment, but if it was the case it might mean the man wasn't a traitor at all, just being controlled somehow. Not a fun or wonderful thing for him, but Jake might not have to shoot him for it either, if he managed to survive.
Which really, depending on where he was, didn't seem all that likely did it?
He kept the fire going and managed to stay nearly dry most of the night. It got cold, but the fire burned hot and there was no new snow. As morning came he kind of wondered what to do though. If it was Back Before he'd have stayed put, waiting for someone to come look for him, but there were no planes in the sky overhead or anything and in a few days he'd be dead here anyway. The question was, did he just set off in a direction and hope it led to something, or stay in place, hoping that Mort remembered where he left him and cared enough to come back?
At first light he set off. Heather had mentioned that things would be bad for him, hadn't she? It seemed that she wasn't talking about that happening in a few months or anything handy like that. Even having more supplies, matches and a space blanket would have helped a lot.
Jake decided to try and take the fire with him, just carrying a mainly burned log portion along with him. It was down to smoldering, but had a long enough end on it that he could manage it without setting himself on fire. Maybe at least. It meant an extra burden of weight being about thirty pounds, which was a lot to be carrying in his hands, and stopping every fifteen minutes or so to blow on it and rest, but it would save on matches and help keep him warm. It also made him smell like wood smoke, which was way better than the B.O. he was starting to develop.
He'd never been a Boy Scout and didn't think he could find a direction to save his life, but then he remembered that the sun rose in the East and set in the West. So if he pointed at the glowing as it came up with his right hand, that should leave him facing South. It wouldn't last all day long, but it wasn't like that wasn't a pretty random direction anyway. For all he knew going South was the dumbest idea ever and he should have headed in one of the others.
He just walked, hoping that eventually he could reach someplace warmer if he did. For all he knew this was Russia or something. Siberia. Not the arctic at least, there were too many trees for that. He kept going, not seeing any animals at all. After five hours he popped the next capsule. Freezing to death wouldn't be made better by doing it with zombies.
He had snow so there was water, but until he had a fire there was no way to melt it. Even then he didn't have a cup or anything. Not even a bit of plastic. If he ever got someplace with people, he was definitely going to make a point of collecting some gear that he carried with him all the time. More matches, a plastic bag and something to carry water. He stopped for the night with hours of light left, finding a clearing that had a nice rock outcropping behind it. There was even a small stream. A little desperately he laid on the bank, sipping at the trickle of water that was no wider than his hand, trying not to get rocks from the bottom in his mouth. He was starving and cold, but the embers on the log were still burning, which meant he could get a fire going with only a little work.
That took two hours again. It was harder to start the log burning than not, even with some dry material from under a larger log he found. It was almost hollow though, except for the animal living in it. He shot it out of reflex and found it to be a fox when he pulled it out. It looked a bit too much like something from a Disney cartoon for his taste, but he butchered it anyway, as soon as the blaze was going. Roast fox wasn't exactly a delicacy, not the way he did it, but it still tasted better than nothing. He nearly burnt the outside, trying to make certain it was done all the way though. Some meat had to be cooked really well, like pork. No one had ever mentioned fox meat being like that, but then who ate them? It didn't make him sick and he had enough for two small meals.
Plus the log was big enough for him to sleep in. It wasn't comfortable, but it was dry and he could have the fire right next to it, if he was careful.
The next day he felt tired, like he couldn't go on at all. There was just nothing left it felt like. He was so cold and his body couldn't warm itself, even after he finished the meat. Jake got up and hoisted a new log portion to his shoulder, barely able to walk it felt like. He stumbled along, his head far from clear. It was hard to tell how often he stopped to check the log, but he didn't think it was often enough. He kept going though. It was what Heather had said to do, when it felt too hard to go on. Jake knew it wasn't that bad yet though. It would be getting worse soon.
That was obvious.
He had to stop sooner, just not able to keep going like he was in the cold. He'd started out worn down and too skinny, and now he was paying for it. He nearly dropped the log twice before he realized he was just about done. He found a single pine tree though, one not too big. The area under the snow-covered branches made a little hut for him. Too big really, but it would have to do. He scraped the pine needles from the far side for his fire, the whole thing filling with smoke rapidly. He was going to die from it, most likely, if he didn't get some fresh air.
Jake laughed and pushed a single branch to the side lazily, which made a chimney of sorts. He had to get more wood, so he made himself move, wondering where Rachel was. If she was going to haunt him in his darkest moments she should be getting her butt over there now, shouldn't she? Nothing happened though.
It was too bad, since he could have used the company.
It took forever to get just a little more wood. It was there, he just kept forgetting what he was trying to do. He'd p
ick something up and then come to himself a while later, with nothing in his hands at all. In the end he didn't know if what he had was enough to last the night, but the dark away from the fire was too much for him. He kept seeing things.
Secret things about himself, playing in the pitch black outside the leaves. How he was vain and blind because of the damage he'd done to himself. How he valued his own life more than that of others, each scene from his life where he'd done that playing again, just to show him what an awful person he was. From the moment he tried to tell Rachel he loved her, singing that stupid song. Only it wasn't dumb, that much was clear. He could see it all right there, between the branches. It was in her basement, the one at her father's house. It had a beat up old couch in it that she was sitting on as he fingered the complex rhythm on the guitar.
When he sang it was good. Better than anything he'd ever heard before and that was hard for him to admit, since it had ended so badly. The words were crisp and clean, happy and just the right touch of tentative. It spoke of so much more than he could have imagined. The hard thing was that he could also feel what Rachel experienced... The fear, tickling in her stomach, knowing that he wanted more from her than what they had. The pleasure at the song itself and the despair she felt, knowing that she was about to throw it all away. There were no words to explain the feelings, no reasons given as to why, but it was all there.
So was Colleen, standing out in the hallway with a tray that held some glasses of soda. She always served it in a glass for Mickey, one she chilled in the freezer first, since he liked his drinks cold. When she heard the song her heart broke. It was devastating to feel, as bad as anything he'd ever felt himself, worse than that, right up until he killed his parents. She backed up, feeling horrible, betrayed, even as she knew it wasn't right of her to feel like that. Wanting revenge, but knowing that it wasn't possible. She wasn't loved and never had been. It wasn't fair at all.
The whole thing changed to a point years later, his parents at dinner trying to get him to go and get a job. It wasn't, he realized, that they cared about the money, that wasn't what they were thinking at all, just stopping his growing depression. Their light and fun child had turned, for some reason they didn't understand, into a totally different person. It wasn't drugs at least, they were certain of that. He'd have to leave the house to get those. No, it was something else, they just didn't know what.