by P. S. Power
If you found out that your messiah was a fraud it could impact a lot of things, couldn't it? At least these three were kind of in it with him. A little bit. Enough so that they probably weren't the ones sent to kill him. Jake looked at them though and wondered what he could do if they had been? The Grand Comtrice was the dangerous one really, old as she was. If he failed to take her with the first shot he could lose the whole thing. He could get around Lamont by not thinking, and Sammi...
That would just be hard.
As old as she was, the woman still had the proportional speed and strength of a girl. She was a good shot, but not armed as far as he could tell. He was, so that could help him. Not that he could shoot her easily. They were friends. If he tried he'd probably have to kill Ken too...
Which would suck. The big problem was that if he was attacked he didn't really think he could stop himself from fighting anymore. He'd do it and not stop, no matter who was after him. It was a liability in civilized society, but for the moment it was just about survival.
The leader of the Telepaths took a sudden deep breath, and shook his head slowly, letting his right hand float forward a bit as if trying to stop what was about to happen.
"We're not here to kill you, Jake. Or hurt you, in any way." That got the other two to take a step back as if a real fight were about to start anyway.
Sammi spoke though, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun-like thing on the top of her head. It looked a little funny, but added years to her too. She also had make-up on, Jake noticed. She hadn't before. It was an odd thing to stop and do, wasn't it? It kind of made her look like one of those little girl beauty pageant prosti-tots from Back Before.
"No! Nothing like that. Not us at least. Some of the others feel tricked. We told them it was all us, our fault, but a lot of them don't really believe that. I think it's only the fact that Yalla and Kerras keep saying they'll take anyone trying to kill you as a personal affront that is preventing an attack on you right now. That, and that a lot of the warriors flat out refused to fight you at all. The Denari leader said he didn't want that many of his people to die. On the good side everyone agrees that we should be working on stopping the zombie plague first, like you said. I..." She looked down, as if the next words were going to hurt. "They... want you to leave, Jake."
He'd figured it would be something like that, so just nodded. It wasn't fair, since this was supposed to be his House, but he couldn't fight them all either, if they wanted to enforce it. There were too many of them, with too many strange powers.
Lamont explained the whole thing though, which sounded so much worse than him just being asked to move to a new place again.
"They're... I guess the correct term would be 'shunning' you. No one is supposed to deal with you, aid you, or give you comfort at all. If they do it will be war with all the others. They aren't just asking you to leave just here, but to leave the world. Forever, and to never come back."
"Oh."
Well, that was nice of them. It was basically meant to be a death sentence. One that didn't allow him to fight it either. He couldn't lash out at anyone, because they were all being good and just making an uncomfortable problem go away.
The funny thing there was that the instant it was said he realized something. He just didn't care. It was stupid of them to blame him, but then people, when they were hurt and angry, were morons, weren't they? He'd had his own time spent doing that. Now it was everyone else's turn.
"All right. I'll get my things, and go. Or are they insisting I have nothing at all?"
That got a sob from The Grand Comtrice, who started crying, which didn't match her normally stately demeanor.
"That... Only what you can carry in a small sack. I..." She stopped and didn't start again, just looking away.
It would have to be ammo and tools then. Jake had hidden enough at his other house to get through the winter, just in case something happened. If Sara and Donald could be trusted he was functionally immune to zombies now too. That meant he just had to be ready for the cannibals, and nature. Well, that and anyone that felt too wronged and was looking for a spot of revenge against the fake Very Good Man.
How anyone had ever bought that to begin with he didn't know.
Dropping the hammer he went to make it all happen. No one spoke to him at all, that being a big part of shunning someone no doubt, so it didn't take long. Half an hour later he walked away into the snow, alone.
Again.
Maybe this was what had always been going to happen though? That he'd survived this long was a bit of a miracle anyway. He just hoped they'd all keep it together well enough to actually do what was needed. They had a new figurehead now, one clearly better suited to it than he'd ever been, but her orders had to pretty much involve things like saying "goo" and "gah-gah" for a while at least. Then there would probably be some demands for cookies... They had to do the real work for themselves.
Without him. It was a relief. Jake let a little smile touch his lips as he left, holding the pillowcase he'd loaded with ammunition and shot in his left hand, his air rifle sticking out of the top. No one claimed that was cheating at least. As he left he thought he heard a single male voice mutter something from the back.
"This is so wrong. We're all going to have to pay for this. It wasn't his fault."
Who it was Jake couldn't tell, but that probably didn't matter. It was kind of nice to know that at least one person didn't hate him. Or, well, not blaming him didn't mean that, did it? But still it was good to hear.
It took a while to get to his new house and then there was another problem, since someone else was living there. He hadn't thought about it, but several of the people from the House proper hadn't been around at all for the last month. George and Billi came to the door, weapons in hand, and he noticed a single rifle aiming at him from one of the upper windows. Robin most likely. Standing in the hallway so she could cover the front of the place.
"Damn." He said it softly, even though there shouldn't be any dead walking in the area at all, it was habit and they wouldn't know about the new developments yet, meaning they might shoot him if he got loud.
"Hi, all." He sounded tired, but that was just depression trying to climb in to his soul, after all it wasn't everyday that you got shunned from society was it?
"Jake! Long time no see. Is that a present for us?" Billi smiled warmly, her face slightly less lean than it had been, her smile white and even against her dark skin. She was wearing blue jeans and a warm looking pink sweater over a longer shirt. George smiled too, her hair a little longer now that she wasn't pretending to be a man for safety while traveling.
He shook his head, fighting for his own smile.
"Nope. This is the sum of my worldly possessions. All the leaders of the world found out that Sammi and some of the others had tricked them into thinking I was The Very Good Man, so they retaliated by kicking me out. Of everything. No one is supposed to talk to me even. So... I came to live here. I forgot that anyone else would be here. I don't know if I can stay. They might not do business with you if I'm here. I'll take off in the morning, if I can stay the night? It might be a risk..." But he couldn't survive the cold, not just with the clothing on his back.
No one said anything for a long time though, until Jill, the women's leader, pushed toward the front and grabbed his arm gently, pulling him in. She'd heard it all at least, so he didn't have to try and explain it all again. It let them shut the door, holding in more heat as Robin ran down the stairs, weapon still in hand. She had to be told though, which took another couple of seconds. It wasn't much of a story, was it?
"Fuck that." She offered succinctly. "You live here and I don't care what they say, we aren't casting you out into the cold just because der widdle feelings got hurt. You kept them together when no one else could. What happened though? I mean, why didn't you all just keep lying about it?"
"Oh... Well, some happy news I guess. Hope... Um, Heather's daughter? She had her baby. She seems to be the real d
eal, and it's kind of obvious, so you know, no more need for me. I think Sammi explained it all to try and protect me. Not that she wasn't being honest, but no one really believed her for some reason. They can't touch her, Lamont, or The Grand Comtrice, so they went after me instead. Trying to go after them would mean fighting wars. I'm just a single guy though. Scapegoat your name is me." He sighed.
"Also, we seem to have a cure for the zombie plague. Some of the remaining Technologists came and have worked out a compound that can clear a vast area. Kind of cool really. We should go and steal some as soon as we can. Or you should get some anyway. I don't want to get anyone in trouble. I'll find someplace else." He set the bag down though as they asked questions about the cure, which got them to all traipse off to the pile of undead to see if it had worked there too. It was only three miles from the House, but it was kind of neat seeing that the formerly writhing pile was unmoving now.
Billi started crying.
"So this is finally over?" She sounded so relieved that Jake didn't have the heart to remind her that it wasn't yet. There was a lot of work to get done first. A whole lot.
They took him in anyway and fed him dinner, not mentioning what had happened, excited that the main problem of the world looked to be solvable. He was falling into shock, but it wasn't for the reason that the others thought. Sure, he was outside of society now, but he really always had been. Or at least that had been the case since Rachel left him. It was a known thing to him. He could be alone, or with people, and not suffer for the lack when it came. No one loved him now, but that had never been a real thing for him anyway, so it was easy to transition back to the idea that he'd die alone.
No, the shock was due to the end of things. He'd reshaped himself into a killer, into a leader of sorts, because it had been needed. Now the whole world was telling him that was done. That they didn't need him at all. It only left the killer, but soon that wouldn't be needed either. Then what would he be? Was there anything left inside him other than that? Could he shift again into something different?
There was music and singing, but in a world that he wasn't allowed to be part of that wasn't such a great idea. Song was always for other people. He sang to make them happy, to help them feel alive, and to touch them. There was no point without an audience, was there? What did that leave then?
Only death.
That would come though. Jake was ready for it. He had been for the better part of a year. Once it was all over he could let go for the final time and no one would miss him. He smiled at the women as they tucked him into the bed in the kitchen. It was his after all, and even though it was warmer than anyplace else in the little dwelling, no one had been using it. Then they left him alone, finding their own beds early, the day's work done.
At first it didn't seem like he could sleep, but he did, a nice dreamless one, without nightmares or waking up in a cold sweat at all. He got up early and started a fire under the water heater for a scrub up, got the woodstoves going and made a point of shaving and getting into a spare set of clean clothes. Then he went to the barn, got his little wagon that was made of sticks and spare parts and started walking, heading into town.
They had another wagon at least, and this one was undeniably his. He felt a little bad about leaving without saying goodbye, but they might have felt obligated to let him stay, even though it would hurt them in the long run. He didn't have to be some kind of messiah to not want his friends hurt by him being around. The road was mainly a clean looking, snow covered, path that was both pretty and hard to move on. On the good side it meant he was able to shoot a deer halfway to town and then drape it over a branch to drain the blood, then skin it using a small blade he'd made for it. Thankfully he had two knives with him, as well as his nine and forty-five. He'd have to be careful with the ammunition though and hunt for smaller game when he could, using the air-rifle, if it would work.
This would give him some food though, if he could find a place where he could have a fire that night. If not he'd die, but that was fine. No one expected him to live anyway, right?
The trudge into town was uneventful, other than seeing a lot of animals that already seemed to have lost most of their fear of man. It was both a good and a bad thing, since it meant that the prey animals just stood there instead of fleeing, but if there were packs of dogs it could be a pain. He was big enough that they probably wouldn't want to fight him, but they might want his food. Jake made a point of staying ready, but the only thing he saw were a couple of cats that darted around, eyes glaring at him with feral intent. He was on their land after all.
It didn't take long to find a house with a chimney, and on the sixth one he found a place with nice furniture, a fine looking glass front wood stove and a small supply of firewood that had just been left in place. There were bodies too, former zombies from the black looking frozen blood, but they didn't move at all, meaning they were well and truly dead. He pulled them outside first, which wasn't that hard and forced himself to not try and cut the heads off.
It took work though. It was just habit now. You find a body, you take a head.
He did lock the doors after that and found an old Bic lighter in the back of a kitchen drawer that no one had bothered to take. It was probably because there had been dead people in the place more than anything else. All the food was gone though, so someone had come in. Jake let the meat warm for a bit while he turned a fireplace shovel into a spit for roasting meat over the stove. The construction was funny on this one, which meant that the front would have to be opened in order to cook anything and there was no real benefit to having it, over a fireplace.
It worked though and a few hours later he was full again, the gnawing hunger of the day being driven back by pieces of meat trimmed from the finished parts of the leg. He looked around the place, coming back every few minutes to tend the fire and make sure the whole place wasn't going up. It was fine, but he didn't want to take chances. There was no fire department anymore, not even running water in town. That was a real concern, but for the time being he could just melt snow in pots by the fire. Bath time would be a chore, sure, but it wasn't like he had a lot to do for fun now.
The next few days went in a predictable pattern then. He worked up a larger water system so that he could melt snow outside, collected a lot of free wood that no one was using and gathered supplies each day. On the fourth day he went hunting and got three large raccoons with the air-rifle. The whole time he didn't see anyone at all. No cannibals, no zombies and no one from the House. That last part wasn't shocking though, they should all be nicely busy saving the world by then. Starting on it at least.
He kept busy though, making things, collecting bits and pieces, rope and cloth, extra clothing and bedding. He insulated his living room with hangings, which were mainly just blankets he'd found in peoples attics and closets, then worked on driving a well in the back yard using pipe he found at a construction site, having built a fire over the dirt to melt it. The thing didn't work at all, so it was frustrating, but he didn't let it get to him, making himself move to the next thing, over and over again.
It was lonely, not having anyone to talk to, now that it seemed like that was a thing that was safe enough again. He missed having friends. That was the way things were though, so he kept going without a real purpose, but not ready to actually just die yet. There had been way too much practice staying alive for too long to give up now.
When he saw the girl standing in the road, directly in front of his house he thought it was Colleen at first. She looked a lot like her, but it wasn't. That would have almost made sense, being that she was alive and all that.
It was Rachel. At first he started going for his gun, but then he stopped. If she was one of those biological constructs, maybe there was a point to all of this? She shook her head though and stepped forward, not leaving prints in the snow.
A hallucination then.
"Seriously Jake? You've seen so much, and you can't even believe in ghosts? I have to be a hallucinati
on? Can't even get the benefit of the doubt? I could be any of a thousand different things you know. Me being here doesn't have to mean you've gone insane. Maybe we should go inside though? We could visit for a bit? Not that anyone is out here to see us chatting, but it seems cozier."
Jake yawned. It was a real enough thing, but got a laugh anyway.
"I'm boring you already? Man... Look Robson, we need to talk and don't have that much time. I'm here on orders. From the other side. A few people aren't pleased with you over there. Not at all." She tried to look serious but failed, her face too cute to really pull it off. She looked the way he remembered her from life, not like the super-zombie he'd killed.
She marched past him into the house, reaching out to take his hand on the way past, but not making contact, the limb passing through his.
"Oops. Well, I did mention I was a ghost, right? More technically a spirit, but... yeah, let's get this done. You don't need me hanging around ruining your life any longer than I have to be."
They settled in front of the fire, sitting on the ground. Jake had settled a mattress there for sleeping, so he could be warm. Becks sat on the other side, staring at him as if it had meaning. Like anything had meaning now. It hadn't since she'd left. Everything had just been gray since then.
"Stop it Mickey. Just stop it. OK, so I was a bitch at the end. I should have loved you and I didn't. You sang that song and it was so good, any normal woman would have loved you, but I couldn't... I met Derrick the next day and even then he was kind of extra attractive, not what he finally became, but it felt to me like I just clicked with him. You were just my friend. My best friend, but..."
Jake finished it.
"But not good enough." That had always been the problem hadn't it? If he'd been better looking, a better person, maybe he would have been loved.