The World's End Series Book One: Dymond's World

by CW Crowe

  "Jason, it's been really good with us, hasn't it? We're doing history's most important work and we have history's best sex. You like it, right?"

  "God yes," it sounded like he spoke with difficulty; like he had to remember how.

  "I've given you everything Jason, and you promised to give me everything, but you haven't."

  She increased the speed and the pressure slightly. Now she used her sharp nail again.

  "No . . ."

  "Yes, Jason. I gave you everything, but you didn't do the same for me. You held something back. Tell me the password to the machine that makes the secret sauce."

  "Oh, Regina . . . don't . . ."

  She felt another small contraction. She encircled him at his base with her thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard to block off the flow of blood. "Tell me Jason, I'll give you everything - you give me everything. Our lives will be truly perfect."

  Her lips and tongue now teased him as she felt the pressure build by the second. He wanted release; she could feel his need, but with her fingers locked around him like a vice, he couldn't.

  "Tell me, Jason. Tell me. Tell me." With each repetition she brought him further beyond the boundary he'd never crossed - one he never knew existed.

  He told her. It was so simple - "JasonRegina." She would have never guessed it.

  She let him go and walked away so that he was forced to finish on his own.

  ***

  She returned to her chair, opened her purse and tossed him a pack of tissues. "Clean yourself up, for God's sake." He was used to hearing love and respect in her voice. Now it betrayed something else; something slightly worrying.

  Regina turned her back on him and picked up a complex looking phone and pushed buttons. "Can you come in here, please? Yeah, bring two others. Where is the next supply delivery?"

  She sat and began to type on her keyboard and studied the screens before her. She didn't say a word to Jason. He’d heard her call, so he finished cleaning and zipped himself just in time as the door opened with a 'whoosh.' A tall Lieutenant carrying a sidearm and two enlisted me came in. His name tag said, "Klein."

  She momentarily looked at the three men. "Put him on the plane and drop him off somewhere outside of town. Make it back in the woods if you can - he's a nature lover."

  Jason heard her words clearly, but their meaning escaped him until the three men surrounded him, "Sir, please come with us." It was spoken like an order.

  "What the hell? Regina, what the fuck is going on?"

  She sighed loudly as if she resented having her attention again taken from the screens. She spoke without looking at him, "It's the plan, Jason. It's proceeding, but your part of it is over." She turned her attention to the three soldiers, "Now take him and put him on the plane - no stopping for anything. Got it?"

  They took him by the elbows and tried to guide him to the door. Jason fought back, but it did no good.

  Just before the door closed, he called out "Regina! Don't do this! Please!"

  He thought she said "Enjoy Pittsburgh," but he wasn't sure.

  Left Alone

  Jason thought he knew the plan, that he fully understood the sweeping grandness of it, but he was wrong. Regina had written him into it on the first day they'd met - the day she'd agreed to drive him to his plane because he had something she wanted. It took over two years, but she got it.

  He thought about all that had happened - her seducing him, bringing him into her inner circle, getting him to pay for so much based on the promise that he would be one of those that would literally inherit the Earth and become one of its rulers.

  But it was all a lie. As he flew in the noisy Osprey, he knew that without a doubt. She'd played him from the beginning. It was like a chess game where she checkmated him on the first move.

  As he was shoved into the small seat of the half airplane/half helicopter, he felt despair. He thought about trying to open the door and jump as soon as they were airborne. But he realized that wouldn't be easy - the rear area was packed with cartons labeled, "36 Count - Single Day Individual Emergency Rations, 1 Each." Jason knew what was in them - canned or freeze dried food that provided 3000 balanced calories; enough for a single person for a single day or for two people if they were small and went a little hungry.

  Also in each individual box were matches, water purification tablets, 48 inches of toilet paper, four sanitary napkins, a cheap toothbrush, a condom, and a flu vaccine inhaler. This was the second big blow built into the plan.

  The first had been the EMP burst. It had been successful, but still there were only about 40,000 who had died so far. It was early, and certainly the number of deaths would soon start to multiply, what with the lack of food deliveries and with winter starting to take hold in the north.

  But people were resourceful; already communications were starting to sputter back online here and there. People were organizing into groups, to share what they had and defend themselves from those who wanted it. The military, caught with the majority of its members on Christmas leave, were finally responding since a significant portion of their equipment had been hardened to withstand an EMP attack. The V-22 Osprey aircraft he was flying on was a testament to that - it could carry ten tons of cargo and fly fast like a plane, while taking off and landing like a helicopter. The Pentagon had over two hundred such planes and they could do a lot to help civilization recover.

  That was why the plan called for more and more assaults upon the living. The second was the flu vaccine. It was so simple - anyone could administer the vaccine themselves. The sprayer looked like a syringe, but it had no needle - you just held it to each nostril and pushed the plunger. Instructions in pictographs were printed right on the applicator.

  But this particular flu vaccine was different. Normal spray vaccines contained real flu virus, but in a much weakened state so that your immune system would react to the virus, but you could not actually get the flu from it. Jason knew that his particular batch, made just for the aftermath of a SHTF event in a facility he had paid for, had a special surprise in it - real flu virus that was not weakened. It was chosen from a strain that had killed over fifty million people in 1918.

  Out of habit, he studied the boxes, trying to estimate how many there were. It was simply the way his mind worked. Even now, with his future uncertain to the point of being dire, his mind seized upon the problem and attempted to solve it almost automatically.

  Counting was out of the question - the boxes were stacked in such a way he could see only the ones surrounding him. He remembered that the V-22 could carry up to ten tons of cargo. It looked pretty full, so he estimated the load at close to that. He opened a carton and took out one of the individual boxes. He judged it weight a bit more than pound.

  He could do simple math in his head, so the rest was easy. There were six to eight thousand meals here. Each person would probably be given three or four if they had enough - the military couldn't show up at the same place every day with more rations. One lucky person might get four meals, but he wouldn't need four inhalers - those he would likely share.

  So figure three thousand people would get their flu "vaccination" from this single shipment. Even then, a good number would fight off the disease and not get deathly ill; but the old and the young and the weak and the unlucky would.

  Even if only a thousand people got sick, they would provide a drain on the people who tried to care for them - their families or the groups they were forming. The despair and hopelessness of the living would be easily as damaging as the loss of those thousand people.

  But it wasn't just them - each of those thousand would be contagious. If they lived in a city and came into contact with others, they'd pass on their little gift the old fashioned way and the deadly drama would play out again and again.

  That was the plan. Until two hours ago he was one of those who would ultimately benefit from it.

  But now Regina had betrayed him. He felt anger well up inside like a creature suddenly springing to life. It had
teeth and it nipped him somewhere inside. It hurt.

  ***

  He had never loved Regina as a person. Jason didn't think he'd actually ever loved anyone. He knew he should have at least loved his mother, but he couldn't remember any such thing.

  Still, he had loved Regina's body and had been impressed with her mind. But mostly, he was in awe of her determination. He saw her, time and again, work a problem to a successful conclusion when others would have given up.

  But now, he felt only hatred; the burning, painful kind. He wanted nothing more than to return and take his revenge - it would have to be painful and degrading, but that presented a problem.

  He remembered one time when he had tied her hands and feet to the bed posts. He was surprised when she didn't object. Initially, he made the restraints loose so she could escape on her own. "Tighter," she said. He tightened them and pulled them until her arms and legs were stretched apart to their limits.

  He started out rubbing her and then pinching her gently. "More," she said. He got rougher and each time he did, she said, "More." When they were done, she asked if he wanted to be tied up. He looked at her, at the small bruised and red marks on her breasts, her thighs, her neck. "I think I'll pass," he said.

  But by whatever means, he pledged to himself that he would return and make her regret what she had done today. It might be hard to find something painful enough where she might not like it, but when the time came, he would think of something.

  He set to work making his own plan.

  ***

  The barest outlines of a plan started to take shape. It came from the realization that, while she'd taken everything from him - they wouldn't even let him go and get a coat - he still had one thing that was very valuable.

  He knew what her plan was and he knew why it had been created. That was his starting point.

  ***

  He was deep in thought when he heard the engines of the Osprey change their pitch. He could not see outside, but he felt the craft descend.

  He opened one of the ration boxes and found the instruction sheet. In large red letters it said, "Use Flu Vaccine BEFORE eating." Regina had come up with this idea, thinking it would increase the number of people who used the inhaler.

  He took a Sharpie marker from his pocket and wrote on the instruction sheet, "Do NOT use Flu Inhaler!!! It contains REAL flu and will kill MANY who use it. This is their PLAN!!! Stay away from people who get sick!" He slipped the sheet back into the box, closed the top and put it back in its carton. His feeble gesture would probably do no good, but something told him to do it anyway.

  ***

  They left him in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Jason begged them not to leave him out here all alone, but they said they had their orders. "I don't know what you did to piss off Ms. Martin, but it must have been something big."

  As they got back in the plane, he begged them for a jacket; it was cold here with snow blowing here and there across the lot. He only had on a sweater over his shirt. "Sorry, dude, she said to not let you have anything."

  "For God's sake, at least leave me some food! I'll starve out here if you don't."

  One pilot looked at the other and shrugged his shoulders. He reached in the back and tossed Jason a single ration box and then they left.

  ***

  The air coming off the lake was cold and Jason was shivering as he sat on some rocks and looked at the water. All around the lake were woods with a walking trail leading away from the lot. A sign told him this was a park and it listed all its rules and regulations. "Park closes at dusk," was the final one.

  Jason thought about simply lying down and waiting until the sun left along with the feeble warmth it was providing, but that creature inside nipped him and the pain forced him to stand. His anger at Regina rekindled instantly.

  He walked out of the parking lot and up a paved road. There was another, even bigger, parking lot up here beside a country road. A sign in blue read, "Save Gas! Share a Ride!" The parking lot was empty.

  He had no idea where he was, but he knew he needed to find people and shelter if he was to survive. The temperature had to be below freezing already and it was still afternoon. One night out here might be enough to kill him.

  He knew he'd have to walk on the road, hoping someone would drive by so he could flag them down. First though, he had to decide whether to turn right or left. The creature inside him stabbed him in the right side, so he turned right and started to walk.

  In less than five minutes, he saw a worn trail lead off from the road. It descended into a thick forest, but without leaves on the trees, Jason thought he could just make out the lake down at the bottom of the hill. He had just been there and knew there was nothing to help him, but this trail was an enigma that his mind tried to understand.

  The trail didn't look like much, but it was made by human activity, either people walking on it often or by some sort of vehicle. He studied the other side of the road - there was no corresponding trail over there. The problem that his mind was grappling with was why the trail was here? There were no houses in sight; no reason why people should be using this trail to go down to the lake when they could drive down there in less than a minute.

  Jason turned and walked down the trail. When his mind latched on a problem of logic like this, he had to find the answer.

  The trail turned sharply left and that's when he saw it - the little trailer nestled in a small clearing in the woods. It looked run down and there were no tracks or other signs in the light coating of snow that anyone was around. He walked to the door and knocked. "Anyone here?"

  ***Even though it was the tackiest place that Jason had slept in many, many years, he was overjoyed to find it. The trailer offered shelter; he had a place to sleep and blankets to keep him warm.

  Even better, it had a propane stove that lit on the first try. He warmed the contents of a can of beans he found in a cupboard, saving his ration box for some future need.

  The water was working so he had shelter, food, a bed and a bathroom. Things were looking up.

  After dinner, he worked on his plan until he fell asleep.

  Spartans

  The daily status meeting started, as usual, with Regina in Hampton Roads and her father in Washington. As the life sized figure of General Martin appeared on her display, Regina saw a question on his face. He asked, "Where's Jason?"

  She replied, "I got the password."

  There was a moment of silence and then he continued, "Okay. Anything else before we bring in the rest?"

  "No, that's it." Regina touched buttons on a keyboard in front of her and six more displays lit up as people joined the meeting.

  Today was a very critical day. Everyone knew it, so the tone was all business. Regina started, "Master at Arms, is the base secure?"

  Even though he was an enlisted man, Chief Younger was a key person on their team. Like most of the others, he'd been identified and recruited years ago by either Regina or her father. "Yes ma'am. We have four entrances open now. Security is tight. There are approximately 11,000 personnel on base right now, a bit more than half normal."

  General Martin was wearing his uniform jacket today, its three stars glinting in the lights. "You're ready to require the vaccinations? And is everything else ready?"

  "All ready for your command, sir."

  "Fine, Chief." He turned and looked at a young officer in combat fatigues. "Colonel Edgemont, are the Spartans ready?" The three hundred trained fighters that made up Expeditionary Force Three had been nicknamed the Spartans by Regina. They were housed in two multi-story apartment complexes on base. Their charter said they would be ready to be the first ones in when command determined that some spot needed to be invaded with a lot of violence. The only time they'd been used had been when they raided a village in Somalia that sheltered pirates. It was an exercise to make sure they were truly capable and would follow orders without question. Regina had gone along on the mission as their commander and was impressed at how quick
ly they tracked down and herded all the pirates into a group.

  On the ride over in a ship, she ate and slept and trained with them every day, telling them they were her Spartans, her 300. She also told them that they would have a large role to play in shaping the future. Regina thought they would obey any order, but she had to be sure.

  In one village, her Spartans had gathered seven pirates. As they cowered in the dusty square that defined the center of the town, Regina slowly walked around them. She wore the same uniform as the others, but unlike them, she didn't carry a rifle, only a sidearm. She was the only one to wear no rank. The pirates, all males, looked at her forlornly, some reaching out their hands in supplication. None dared touch her, though they were only inches away.

  ***

  "Three volunteers!" she called. Three hundred hands instantly went up.

  "Sergeant Major, bring me three," she said.

  "Ay, Commander!"

  The three lined up to attention at her side, anticipating her orders. Regina was pleased to see that the Sergeant Major had chosen the lone female member of EF3. Her name was Private Ashley Hamn and Regina had talked to her on the trip over. Her story was just like all the men - it's why they were chosen. She had been a star distance runner and a natural athlete, but she got in trouble with the law fairly often. Nothing big - underage drinking, truancy, shoplifting - the kind of things rebellious teenagers do. It was surprisingly easy to find people like her; the schools churned them out like a machine spitting out identical rolls of toilet paper. These kids had no appreciation for life, no knowledge of what they could be, no motivation to push themselves to achieve something. EF3 gave them that chance and that motivation.

  "Are the guys treating you well?" Regina had asked her as they sat together.

  "Yes, ma'am. At first they were skeptical because I can't do as many pullups or lift as much as them. But a lot of our training was running. After five miles or so, I was always put in the lead to help the others not drop out. I'd run backwards and tell them that if a girl could do it, they could. A few times, I grabbed one of my fellow Spartans and pulled him along, until he caught his breath. After that, things were fine."