by Ts Alan
Citizens of Mechanicville. It gives me great honor to present to you a man I call friend, General John David Nichols.”
A roar of applause from an enthusiastic crowd filled the Mechanicville High School auditorium in honor of their leader. As J.D. stepped in front of the lectern, the audience as well as those on stage rose to their feet applauding, showing their love and admiration to the man who had given them, comfort, protection and leadership in a time of chaos.
At that moment, J.D. realized his family was not just those that were close to him, but the community, for they all shared a common bond. They all had survived and they had done it together. He was overwhelmed with joy, and grateful that Kermit had broken their deal and also disobeyed his order and had come back to the armory to rescue him.
“Thank you, David and thank you citizens of Mechanicville. I am truly overwhelmed and moved by that tribute.”
J.D. became uncomfortable with the adulation. “Please. Please. I beg of you. Please do not applaud me. It is I who should applaud you, for your generosity, your understanding, your friendship, your loyalty, and for your love. Thank you. Thank you all.”
J.D. gestured to the crowd and applauded them.
He paused as he looked down to the speech he had prepared and then set it aside. He looked to his wife Marisol and daughter Caitlin and Michael Adam, along with Max and Barkley, in the front row and he smiled.
“I had this speech—I worked on it for a week—even my daughter helped with it. Except now as I look at it, here before all of you, it seems—It’s not… It’s not what I need to say.”
When the audience finally returned to their seats J.D. spoke again.
“It is a great honor and privilege to be able to stand before you today for this dedication ceremony and even a greater pleasure having been chosen by you the citizens to be the one to unveil our new town sign.”
J.D. stepped away from the lectern and to a nearby covered, heavy-duty easel and pulled the cloth away to reveal the town’s new signage. The audience cheered, for they all had a vote in renaming the town.
Returning to his lectern, J.D. announced, “This day we celebrate the re-settlement of Mechanicville. Through the hard work and dedication of all of you, we have taken momentous steps forward in building a sustainable future. Over these past months, I have learned that the past can truly be the past, and the future is indeed unwritten. Therefore let us write a new chapter in our life story. With the changing of our town name from Mechanicville to Bethlehem, I feel it is time for another change, to demilitarize our town, taking us from a state of full military strength and authority to a state of vigilant guardedness.”
The audience was uncertain, voices arose.
J.D. addressed their anxieties. “I know you have concerns. There are still marauders out there and half-mutes, and with the strong show of military force you feel secure. However a police state is not a state of freedom and growth; it is a state of fear and stagnation. Look at all we have accomplished so far. We have electrical power, fresh produce, a fire department, a town newspaper and this school. Imagine what we could accomplish moving forward, setting our fears aside, coming together as a community to make our lives better.
Therefore, in order to accomplish this goal without compromising our safety and well being, we will be begin the demilitarization process by forming a police department that will regulate and control the affairs of our community, maintain order, enforce the law, and handle any civil crime.
Our military will still stand on guard to defend our borders and protect our power station and crops. But by taking away the burden of internal security and civil discipline, and giving those responsibilities to a civilian force, we can not only begin to restore civil liberties, but we will be able to reassign our military personnel, giving them the task of expanding our town borders by opening up areas that have been restricted, and rescind the current curfew, thus giving us more civil liberties and enough free housing for everyone.
Let us as a community, as a family, move forward and begin writing that new chapter. I thank you, the people of Bethlehem.”
The town’s people’s concerns had been placated. They stood once again and applauded their leader.
J.D. motioned for them to sit. “Now, I’ve bored you long enough. Let’s get this celebration started with some music.” J.D. moved to where he had been seated and picked up his accordion and joined David, Christina, and several other musicians.
“This was written and arranged by our own songbird Corporal Christina Custode,” he announced as they began to play. Christina had passed the audition.
J.D. looked around to his fellow musicians and to the citizens of Bethlehem, and he saw their joy and contentment, and he was pleased. Although he drew comfort and pleasure at seeing their happiness, he was also aware that contentment could lead to complacency and complacency in their post-apocalyptic world could mean their destruction. They would always need to be vigilant and on guard if they were going to survive and prosper.
EPILOGUE
What Lies Beyond the Door
From outside the door to the room where he was imprisoned, Richard France heard the jingle of keys in the padlock. He hurried to it, believing it was his release, but his hopes were quashed when he heard the voice of J.D. Nichols.
“Everyone is gone, Dick. You and I are all that remains of this place,” J.D. told the doctor. “I’m not letting you free; that you will have to earn. What I am doing is releasing the lock. It will remain on the door. If you are resourceful, then you should be able to clear the lock from the latch.”
“You are insane!” the doctor shouted at him from the other side, and then ordered. “Let me out now. You need me.”
“Dick,” J.D. calmly replied. “I’d be careful as to the shouting. I’m expecting company. Edward Stone and company. If I lose, I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”
“You bastard!” France cried out.
“I’m leaving now. You’ll know when it’s time to make your escape. I’d wish you luck but I’d be lying.”
France grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it violently.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” he shouted, but did not know if J.D. had heard his curse.
***
The sounds of gunfire had ceased. France had hoped that J.D. had done what he had promised: to kill Stone. Then came some loud noises that sounded like grenades. He waited long after the explosions ended, just to make sure. Now there had been no sounds for a very long time.
He jiggled the doorknob and rattled the door trying to get the padlock to unhook from its latch and fall free. For several hours he kept up the attempt, but could not escape. When he was near exhaustion and about to resign, he heard what sounded like voices outside his door. He strained to listen. It appeared to be several people in low conversation, though the few words that he heard uttered were indistinguishable.
France began a rapid succession of fist pounds on the door. He was not sure if those outside his door were friend or foe, but he knew if he remained imprisoned he would perish.
A voice arose. It was just one soft word with a reflection of puzzlement. “Who?”
“Who?” France replied. “Doctor Richard France. That is who?” I am locked in. Please let me out.”
“Who?” the voice repeated.
“Who?” France said with irritation. “Just open the door—Take the lock off the door!”
France began rattling the doorknob. “The lock. The lock above the doorknob! How hard can it be?”
“Lock,” the voice whispered with puzzlement.
France heard the padlock drawn from the latch and then it drop to the floor. He pulled at the knob and the door swung in.
“Thank God you came—” he began to thank his saviors, but cut his sentence short. France’s face lighted with fear. “No. No! How is that possible!” he shrieked in terror, as he retreat
ed.
The mutant with a missing finger looked at him with cold and menacing eyes, pointed, and then spoke his intention in a voice that sounded like a bad imitation of Golem. “Eat. Hungry.”
“No, wait! I am not the one you want,” France told the ravenous pack. “You want the colonel. You want J.D.!”
The group moved in.
“J.D.?” the four-fingered creature inquisitively half questioned, like he was familiar with the name.
“Yes, J.D.,” France repeated.
Four Fingers held up a necklace, and angrily said, “J.D.”
THE END
About the Author
TS Alan resides in the East Village of New York City and is the published author of the zombie novel The Romero Strain on Books of the Dead Press. He is also the co-founder of the zombie survival/entertainment Internet site Zombie Education Alliance (zombieeducationalliance.com).
His writing credits also include two short stories published in Devolution Z magazine and a short published in an anthology called What Went Wrong? (Legendary Stories). His third novel, World War Dead, will be released in late 2018.