by Roman Shepp
“I have,” Tony said in a hollow voice.
“Then you know what must be done.”
Tony wanted to fight it, wanted to help all these people. He was sure Superman would have found a way. Heroes in the pages of comic books always found a way, but he wasn't such a hero. He was just a man, trying to make his way through the world as best he could.
One of the victims cleared their throat and whispered to Tony. He leaned down.
“He's right. Please, end our pain,” he said.
Tony shared a grim look with Phil and knew what he had to do. The gun never had felt heavier in his hand. It was supposed to be a weapon used for self-defense, and now he wished he never had picked it up. His mind reeled, trying to think of some way out of this situation, some way to save everyone, but he knew it wouldn't be possible. Tony raised the gun and fired bullets into the victims. Nothing ever had been this difficult, and he never had felt less like a hero.
“You did what you needed to do. You saved them from a lot of pain,” Phil said, squeezing Tony's arm.
“I feel sick. This isn't right. The world shouldn't be this way. People shouldn't have to suffer like this. They shouldn't have to do the things that I have done.”
“Welcome to the world, my friend. You had it easy working in the store. You didn't have to face the reality of the world. This is what it's always been like. I think it's why so many of us tried to bury our heads in the sand.”
“They wouldn't have been able to get the medical care they needed,” Tony said, having to justify his decision to himself.
“No, they only would have suffered a slow, painful death. Their lives would have been filled with misery and pain. You did the right thing.”
“Even though it seems so wrong.” Tony leaned against a tree and rubbed his face. The weight of the world fell upon his shoulders. “I don't want to look at them anymore,” he said, and turned away from them. He never would forget their faces, though, or their mutilated bodies.
“So, what's the deal with that guy? Saeed? Why did he turn away from the girl like that?” Phil asked.
They stayed near the tarp. Tony didn't want to go back to Jane and Saeed yet.
“He lost his daughter on the first night. People came into his home and attacked him. He lost his wife too.”
“Shit.”
“Earl is dead as well. Some teenagers got him, and practically everyone else in his apartment complex.”
“I was hoping he was with you, since you have Groot.”
“It's crazy, Phil. You should have seen the city that night...I've never seen anything like it. I never knew things could be that bad. Were you there? How did you even get out here?”
“I wasn't in the city, but we sure saw it go up in flames. We weren't sure what had happened at first. All the electricity went out, and then everyone went crazy.”
“What were you doing?”
“Oh, don't you remember? There was a convention going on. I mentioned it last time I was in the store. At first a lot of us thought it was some kind of publicity stunt, but we quickly realized that it wasn't.”
“Oh my God, a convention in the field back there? Do you know what had happened?”
“Yes. What do you mean?”
“We passed through the field, the building has been burned to a crisp and there are blood stains all over the ground. I went up to the building. A lot of people seemed to get caught in the blaze.”
“That doesn't surprise me,” Phil said. He raised his stump to stroke his chin, but quickly realized that it was hopeless, so he used his other hand.
“Still takes a bit of getting used to,” he said apologetically.
“Anyway, things were getting crazy there. A lot of us split up into different groups and tried to wait it out. We figured there was some kind of big power outage. It's what we hoped anyway. A lot of people were scared, they started fighting. I don't know how the fire happened, but as soon as it was clear that nobody was going to be saved from it I left. I ran as fast as I could to safety. What I thought was safety anyway. You should have seen how angry people were getting. They were fighting over everything. I didn't want to stay around there for too long. I wasn't the only one to come into the woods, but nobody went the same way. A lot of us found our way here, though.”
“What happened with Shawn and Rick? Did they attack you right away?”
Phil smiled grimly. “No, they pretended to be friendly, offered me food and shelter. Tara was with them, so I figured, ‘How dangerous could they be?’ Then, in my sleep, they dragged me out. By the time I woke up I already had been tied up and was helpless. They didn't seem to be going through the people in any sort of order. I think they liked the pain of it all. Most of us passed out from the pain, and we were too tired to scream. Any of us who tried it got knocked out by them anyway. The world is better off now that they're dead.”
“It's just a shame they had to hurt so many people before they were dealt with.”
“Is there any hope for us, Tony? I mean, has there been any sign of the government, or any help?” Tony took a deep breath.
“You should meet my friend.” They walked back to the camp and then Tony took Phil over to Jane and introduced them. “I can vouch for him. I've known him for a long time. I think we should tell him, and Tara,” Tony said, looking at the little girl.
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking a little hesitant.
“I know how you feel, but I think it's for the best,” Tony said. He turned to Phil and Tara and told them about the bunker. “We don't know exactly where it is, but that's why we're out here. Once we find it we'll have a safe place to stay until the world settles down.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I'm in,” Phil said. Tara was standing close to Jane, and certainly wasn't going to say no. They talked a little more and then decided they should get going soon. It was depressing to stay around such a horrible crime scene.
Tony walked off by himself to reflect, much like Saeed had done, but Jane wasn't about to leave him alone.
“Did you do what I think you did?” she asked.
“You heard the shots, I assume?”
“Yes. I told Tara that it was just something in the distance, but I think she knows the truth as well, deep down.”
“She's going to have to know the truth at some point, but not all of it. We never can tell her what those men did.”
“No, we can't. Thank you for doing what you did.”
“I don't deserve thanks.”
“I saw those people in there. If I were them, I wouldn't have wanted to live.”
“One of them even told me the same thing, but I still feel guilty. Before this started I never considered myself a violent person, but now I can handle this gun like it means nothing.”
“You did what you had to do. You helped those people. Sometimes doing the right thing doesn't mean doing the easy thing.”
“But how much am I going to have to sacrifice? How much of myself will I have to lose to survive in this world? I don't know if it's worth it, Jane. I think the price might be too high.”
“And what's the alternative? To turn your back on those who need your help? The price of our soul is a small one to pay if it means the world is a better place, if it means we stand a chance at surviving. I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to die yet.”
“Me neither, but I don't want to use this gun anymore,” he said.
“Are you sure? That's a powerful weapon. I know you don't like using it, but it seems foolish to just throw it away.”
“It doesn't matter. It's out of bullets anyway. I used the last of them on those victims,” Tony said flatly. He tossed the gun on the ground. It landed with a thud in among the grass and leaves. For all the benefits it could give them, Tony wished that it would be swallowed into nature.
“I'm guessing you'd like your bat back?” Jane said, offering him the weapon. Tony hesitated, but then took it back from her.
“You're welcome to it, by the way.
I think I'm going to get Shawn's bow. That's more my style anyway,” she said.
Before she left, she had some parting words. “Don't try being too hard on yourself for this. You did the only thing you could do. The thing that makes heroes is that they can carry the burdens that no one else can.”
Tony had spent all his life wishing he could be a hero, but now he wasn't sure if he wanted to be one anymore.
After Jane had retrieved a bow and some arrows, the group was ready to leave. They gathered up anything useful from the camp, although they left the meat.
“Are you really going to keep me safe?” Tara asked.
“Of course we are,” Tony replied.
“Even from the bad man?” she asked. Tony glanced at Jane and Phil.
“Do you have any idea who she's talking about?” he asked Phil, but his old friend merely shrugged.
“Where is this bad man? Do you know what he looks like?” Tony said, turning toward Tara.
“He's tall, and he's in the woods. He could be anywhere,” she said. Tony wished he could ignore the rising fear within him, but something told him he couldn't ignore Tara's warnings.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Tony said as they forged ahead, holding his baseball bat tightly.
Chapter Ten
Quentin had left the campsite behind, leaving the bodies for all to see. He wondered if anyone ever would come across those people again. If they did, it probably would be a mystery why they had died. Quentin never had understood the murderers who seemed to kill for no reason. There was always a reason. As a soldier the reason was the enemy, but in that arid country the lines had been blurred. The enemy didn't always wear a uniform, and sometimes they weren't even armed with guns. It was the same now. His enemies were ordinary people. They all were part of an army against him, shaming him for everything he had done. They were a part of the world that had shunned him and left him for dead.
They didn't deserve to be happy. They didn't deserve love. If Quentin didn't deserve love, then nobody else did. He had sacrificed so much of himself for his country, for noble causes, and he had been repaid only in pain and misery. The dead bodies were at peace now, and he was sure the world was better for it.
Moving along the river, his stomach did not rumble for he had fed himself on some of the supplies that were at the camp. In the distance he could hear some sounds, but they were of no concern to him. He did not need to chase his prey any longer. He simply could wait and eventually he would come across more. They all were waiting for him on the battlefield. Stopping by the river, he watched the water again, his eyes fixated. There was something about the way it rushed downstream, continuing even when the rest of the world had stopped. It cared not for the petty needs of man. It was a force of nature, as he was now.
And yet, he could not fail to turn his mind back to those moments when he had been with Carol. Deep in the recesses of his damaged mind there were moments when he could hear her calling to him, begging him to stop, but he quickly learned to ignore her. It really wasn't her. It was some figment of his imagination, some weak part of himself that wanted him to stop. He wasn't going to be weak any longer. He was strong, and he was going to prove that to the whole world.
Like the river, he would continue surging forward despite everything else. Even when he felt barren he would feed on more pain, and like the river when it rained, he would be refreshed.
The masked man stared back up at him from the water. This was his true face. He knew that now. The one he had been wearing, the one Carol had seen, was the real mask. She would have been the only one who understood. Perhaps if she saw him she would be able to stop...no! He didn't need to stop. He was doing the right thing. This was a world where people had to earn their survival. Love had been holding him back. It was a weakness, and he would prove it by showing all of them how foolish they were to place their trust in others.
In time he again would come upon those who had attacked the building. He would find those responsible, even if he had to kill hundreds. This was no different than any other war, aside from the fact that he was an army of one. Just like he had been after that devastating attack.
'Why were you left standing, soldier? Were you a coward? Did you hide from the fight?' the sergeant bellowed at him as he was debriefed. Quentin had tried explaining himself, but the sergeant wasn't listening. 'You're not fit to wear that uniform. You've let me down. You've let your country down. But worse, you've let your squad down. They trusted you, and you couldn't defend them. Did you even discharge your weapon?'
'There wasn't time!' Quentin protested. 'I did all that I could, but it happened so fast. The explosion hit and then...I was pinned down.'
'You hid while the rest of your squad was slaughtered. I've seen the likes of you before. Pathetic. I don't know how you got into this army, but I'll see to it that you won't last long. You'll never be a part of a squad again,' he said.
As it happened, Quentin lasted longer than that sergeant, who was killed when insurgents attacked his convoy. Quentin never did get over that tongue-lashing, though, mostly because the sergeant had made sense. He had survived when nobody else did, just like he had throughout the rest of the war. Sometimes he was part of other squads, but it never had been the same as when he had been with his soldier brothers. They had been his family and he had let them all down.
Never would he let himself get so close to anyone again, he vowed. So, for the rest of his tenure he did his job to the best of his ability but locked away his heart. He refused all attempts to make friends. It took Carol to teach him how to open up again, but with her death his heart was lost. Never again would it be opened. Never again would it beat with love. The only thing that ran through his blood now was war.
And yet a drop fell from his eye, a single tear, splashing in the water. It disappeared, absorbed by the river, and was swept along by the current. Quentin stared at the river for a few more moments, confused by his body's reaction when he was so sure he had stripped himself of all the vestiges of humanity. Then, he turned away, and resumed his march through the forest.
Sunlight slanted through the gaps in the trees. Animals hid in the underbrush. The soft hum of voices became louder and clearer as Quentin approached. This time a group of men were sitting around in a clearing. Four of them. One was standing. They were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. Quentin thought he might recognize them from the convention. They shouldn't be allowed to laugh. They reminded him of his old squad, and it only brought the anger rushing through him again. Like before, he stayed in the shadows, watching and waiting for a while. He listened in on their conversation. They bragged about their sexual conquests and claimed this world was going to be their time. The petty ambitions of small-minded men. It disgusted Quentin.
“When are we going to head back to the city? I bet there are loads of women out there looking to find some company during the end of the world,” one of them said.
“Aren't you going to try finding Lucy?”
“Hell no, I've been looking for a way to break up with her for ages. Besides, who wants to be tied down in a relationship when the whole world is changing? This is a time for opportunity, for conquest. All of the old rules are out the window. Everyone is in the same boat. Nobody is out of your league anymore because there aren't any leagues! Everyone is in the same situation, so it's time to strike. We've had our fun out here, but now it's time to go back and get what's ours.”
“I don't know. You saw the way it looked from a distance. Do you really want to head back there? It looks dangerous.”
“How bad can it really be?”
Their ignorance was astounding. Quentin was sickened by their lack of basic understanding. These were the type of men he had tried to defend with his life. So many people were undeserving of his service, and now it was time to make them pay. He moved forward, the leaves brushing against his face, and walked up to the men. They were so lost in their conversation that they didn't notice him at first. One of them jumped.
“My God man, you gave me a fright. Who are you and what do you want?” he said. Quentin stared at them blankly. The men looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
“I know what this is! I bet he's one of those statue men! You know, the ones who always stand around and never move, no matter what. Poke him in the eye!”
“I'm not going to poke him in the eye.”
“Do it! Do something at least.”
One of the men turned to Quentin and stared at him. “Are you alright? Do you need any help?” Quentin stared at him blankly, like a stone.
“I'm not going to wait any longer for this,” another one said. “We might as well have our fun.”
He walked up to Quentin and went to touch the man's mask. Quentin burst into action, reacting quickly, gripping the man's fingers. He caught them and turned them around. The man yelped in pain, a high-pitched wail, and begged Quentin to let go. Instead, Quentin placed more pressure on his fingers, and they snapped. The man fell to the ground, clutching his wounded hand. The other men looked aghast at Quentin. The man on the ground blubbered.
“Who are you? What do you want?” another said.
His voice trembled. Again, Quentin did not reply. The man stepped forward, and Quentin slammed his fist into his face. The man’s nose cracked underneath the blow, and blood flowed. He cursed too and staggered back. The other two men weren't going to make the same mistake of challenging Quentin one-on-one. They came up to him, trying to flank him. Quentin moved backward slowly, his eyes darting from one to the other. The one on his right let a fist fly, but Quentin easily batted it away. At the same time, however, the other man kicked, and Quentin felt the hard impact on his knee. He faltered, and only stayed standing because he was able to grab hold of the man on his right.