Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  The argument grew heated as some of the smaller, weaker, or less warlike groups made suggestions, and the more dominant ones tried to shut them up. Finally, after nearly two hours of listening Jake spoke up.

  "This isn't making sense. The old ways didn't work, and never really have. You all, we all, have a chance to make a new world. Something better than what we had before. A place where no one needs to hide, and where we can all live together in harmony." He held up his right hand to get everyone to be quiet, but for some reason they were all actually listening to him, even though they hadn't to each other.

  "Instead of trying to jockey for position and ignore the others if they don't want to give you each what you want, why not think of something new? Appoint a group of people to manage all this for you for instance. Kids. Each of you pick a young person to vote on stuff for you and make sure to tell them to be fair about it for everyone. Then shut the heck up and do what they all decide. OK, so the world might fall apart after a week, but who knows, we need something different and letting the old rules guide us just leads us back to where we were.

  "With the Humans overpopulating the planet and taking over again. I know that one is a bad idea, but you get the idea, think of something new. Don't get after each other, and for goodness sake, stop bickering. We're standing on the edge of possibly getting through this. It's going to take a long time and a lot of effort, but maybe, if we work hard and together as a single unit, we can actually do this thing." Probably not, but he wasn't dumb enough to mention that part.

  Personally he kept expecting something to go horribly wrong even before they got started. The Technologists that created the zombie plague to simply nuke them all, or maybe for the Linster family to come back claiming all the needed equipment had been taken. It almost had to be something. Whatever that was they needed to pull together and not point fingers.

  "Aye. We should do as the Wise one says and not bicker like fishwives over the cost of nets." This came from the bearded Denari.

  "I'll put forth my boy Henry as representative for my people. He's young, but sixteen years, but sensible and willing to adapt." He also wasn't in the room to hear about it. Good.

  That got other names to come, with only the Comtrices having a real problem. The only young person that they could name was a seven year old girl. They didn't stay embarrassed long, since Heather walked into the room holding something in a small blanket. It was a patchwork thing, but looked new for all that.

  "I'll put forward my daughter. She doesn't have a name yet, but I know it will be important. She can stand for the Humans. Eventually I mean. After she learns to stand."

  It was nearly surreal, but everyone stopped to look at the new baby. The first one that had been born at the House. The eeriest thing, was that even though she waved her little baby hand, she didn't cry at all. She just looked at everyone and... smiled. All the attention of the room turned to her then.

  It took a bit, but he understood it after a while.

  He wasn't The Very Good Man at all. This new baby was. Now that was a bit unexpected, wasn't it? Jake grinned stupidly though. It was so clear that everyone really seemed to get the idea. Fully half of the people in the room were just held by the gaze, not looking away at all as she beamed. It was Lamont that came to him first, the head Telepath, who had assured him he really was the one the legends spoke of all along.

  "Jake... we..." Whatever the old man intended to say, his voice cracking a bit, he didn't get to. His suit was pressed and tidy looking, a nice blue thing that looked like something a priest might wear on his day off. He had to move though, because Heather had made her way around the table, holding the little bundle lovingly.

  "What should we call her? I didn't want to come up with anything before. In most of the futures... we were all dead by now. If I lost her... So, what's a good name?" She looked at him like he should actually have a say. He wasn't her father though. That was some rapist.

  "How about Hope? I know that's one of my favorite things. It seems to fit the occasion all around." It was even a girl's name.

  Honestly he expected her to balk at the name, since it was a little old fashioned, but she nodded hurriedly.

  "Hope. I like it. She's my Hope. The Hope of a new world."

  Morris teleported away and was back minutes later, holding a small chest, he opened it so that Heather could see what was in it. Spices. Lots of them. They were a commodity now after all. Sammi ran up and let her hands go to her neck, pulling off the necklace she wore. It was just a chain that she'd kept hidden most of the time, with a plain dull yellow stone on it. Amber, with an insect inside.

  "This seems right. This was given to me when I turned ten, over a hundred and thirty years ago. It's a promise, one for a good life and many friends. I give that now to Hope."

  It got a happy gurgle in return and the baby stared at Sammi for a while. Like she actually knew what was going on.

  The others came forward then, each with a gift of some kind or another. A few were clearly just things that people had on them.

  Yalla the leader of the Valkyries presented a knife, so that the child would never be less than ready to protect herself, and do her duty. She seemed to say it twice, like it was a real thing, the first time in her language, then again in English.

  Lamont gave her a watch. It was an expensive one, but what he said was touching. Better than anything Jake could have come up with.

  "So you may have time to be a child, without the weight of the world being too heavy on your little shoulders."

  They kept going, the Grand Comtrice giving a touch of her blood, her eyes going round as she touched the soft baby palm of the little hand. She shook a bit, her mouth starting to work.

  "Yes. It will be so." Was all she could say though. That was strange, because when a Comtrice read someone they supposedly couldn't lie at all. She was clearly fighting letting out the whole thing though and broke contact quickly.

  She smiled though and gave Heather a small bow.

  "She's lovely dear."

  Finally almost everyone in the room had given her something, which was decorating the largest of the tables, since Heather couldn't be expected to hold it all at the moment. Or stand anymore. Jake gave her his chair and stood back, knowing that he should have something for her too. He didn't own anything though. Well, his guns, but that was hardly a fitting gift for a baby, and he really didn't want to be unarmed with what was coming. They had a world to fix after all.

  Finally something occurred to him. He could play something.

  "Colleen, may I borrow your guitar?" She was near the back of the room, by the door, but nodded, and hurried away. It was still light out, so it was easy enough to see through the windows.

  All the bodies kept the place warm too. Not that the fires didn't help, but it worked to keep his hands flexible. He hadn't really been practicing a lot. Maybe he could now? It felt nice knowing that he really didn't have to bear everything himself. There was hope in the world now. Hope. For a moment he regretted dumping that name on the girl. She'd probably hate it by the time she was twelve. He really needed to think before speaking it seemed.

  Colleen was subtle about bringing him the guitar, handing it over without making a big production about it. For some reasons everyone looked at him, as if they expected something special.

  "I... don't really own anything, except some clothes that are too big and some weapons, which won't mean as much since I'm not a warrior or anything. So, I was thinking I'd play something on Colleen's instrument. I..." He didn't know what to play, so tuned for a few seconds, finding that it was already nearly perfect.

  Of course.

  Then he closed his eyes and started, a simple tune with no words. It just flowed out of him, all the joy he felt in the moment, the strength he wanted the little girl to have, the loves that she would find and the little bits of strength that a person hid deep inside, in some very dark places. If anyone might need that information it would be her.

&
nbsp; He played for nearly ten minutes, starting simply and ending with more complexity than he really thought he could manage without practicing it for years. When he opened his eyes everyone was just looking at him.

  Crying.

  That was all right though. He was too. Not out of sadness though, just pure happiness. Just knowing that something so wonderful was in the world made all the hardship he'd suffered seem worth it. All the ugliness he'd seen was, at least partially, washed away.

  A tiny little piece of him felt a little down, since he wasn't the Very Good anything anymore, but he'd live.

  After all, they had Hope now.

  They didn't need him anymore.

  Chapter three

  People applauded and seemed much happier then, like everything was just going to work out. That was bull though. They had to work to make things happen. That was the rule of the new world and they weren't dumping everything on a little girl that wasn't even three hours old. If they tried Jake decided to start shooting people. Luckily everyone got that part of things without being told and managed to even let Heather go back to the nursery without too many offers to take her away with them. It wasn't a horrible idea, but that was up to her.

  Jake just needed to get them back on task.

  "So, let's make a list of those kids to vote on things. Seems like that's a starting point. Even if it's only an advisory position. Does anyone have good penmanship? Mine's not so great." He was still holding the guitar, which he handed off to Colleen with a smile.

  "Thanks. We... should talk later, I think." He didn't want to be all vague, but she just looked a tiny bit sad, and looked down instead of answering.

  What she thought he was going to say he didn't know. It was just so clear that he was about to be out of work as a figurehead that he wanted her to know it was all right if she didn't want to be around him anymore. He'd have to do the same with Vicki. There was no reason for either of them to pretend to like him now.

  After all, if he wasn't The Very Good Man, then he was just Jake the killer. The one that everyone hated and wanted gone. That was fine. He could leave now. Maybe just let go and finally die? After they stopped the zombies though. The Cannibals too.

  Those freaks, that had started it all too.

  Lots of people left for him to kill. He hated it, but it was what he was good at it seemed. That and making music. Maybe he and Colleen could work up an act? Tour or something? There had to be a need for entertainment. He also had his work on the forge to consider too. Plus they needed to get things done and he could, and would, shoot people if they tried to get too lazy. He'd be fine.

  Lamont kept staring at him, scared looking, but that was probably because he couldn't understand that things were OK. Jake was most likely hiding his thoughts by accident. No one else was acting like anything had just happened though, now that the little baby was out of the room. Sammi pointed to the chair vacated by Heather and moved in alongside of him, which took a second and meant people had to adjust a little. Technically she wasn't really supposed to be there, but she was a princess of her people, which was a lot more important than being whatever he really was.

  She spoke softly, saying something totally different than he thought she would. Loudly.

  "I faked the fact that Jake was The Very Good Man of legend. It was all my doing and I take full responsibility for it. If anyone has a problem with it being done..." She didn't get to finish, since about half the room stood up, looking at her angrily. The other half just sort of nodded. She kept speaking though and no one stopped her.

  "He didn't know. I mean, he guessed, but I enlisted others to help me fool him into thinking he really was The Very Good Man. I know that Hope changes things. But we needed something. Please don't blame him for my wrongdoing."

  Everyone went silent as the T'srith leader, a short stocky and very muscled man stood, a sharp looking blade suddenly in his hand. He sliced it in a quick motion, his face unmoving as he spoke softly.

  "I swear by my blood that I didn't know about such deceit." He stared at the room, his voice going just slightly louder then, stern. "I also swear that any that claims that this man is not a good one shall face me in battle. We must not stand divided, any fool can see that and only one person has made it happen. I stand with Jake for as long as he will have me." It was dramatic, Jake had to give him that. He smiled and sighed, shaking his head.

  "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 blac
ksmith 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?