Dead End Stories From the End of the World

by P. S. Power

  Of course, it was worth it, since he'd been trying to save the environment. So much for that now. The world might not be worrying about warming anymore, but it wasn't even a thing to discuss. He could have driven a Hummer, and it wouldn't have made one lick of difference.

  The boy tilted his head, then gave a single nod.

  "He'll do. He's pretty good, I hear. I've been hunting with him, for animals. Yeah, that should work. Want me to get with them on it? When do we go, in the morning?"

  They chatted about it for a bit, but Nate knew that he had to be the one to take care of it. No one would believe Dave if he said he was in charge. That was what he was thinking when he looked over toward the door of the front room, in time to see Sandy try to hit Troy with a chair. It was aimed at his middle, but was blocked, rather cleanly, with a lifted foot. It made a smacking sound though, which got Dave to grin.

  "Hey, didn't I hear that the next asshole that hit someone was going to be kicked out?" It was said loud enough that everyone in the room turned to look at the kid, who chambered a round in the shotgun that he carried all the time now.

  Sandy froze, but even though it made him feel horrible, Nate had to nod.

  "That's right." Then he sighed and swallowed. "Sandy, get your stuff. You need to leave. Now."

  The whole house was silent a few minutes later. Everyone already knew what had happened. It practically screamed from the minds of everyone. They'd expected a trial, or hearing. Because that was what Nate normally did, wasn't it? He passed the buck by making the decisions be a group thing. It was temping, even now.

  All he had to do was dump the whole thing on the others. Get Vickie, and maybe Tipper to come along and sit next to him, with Jake there to back up whatever they decided.

  Except that he knew that no one would respect him if he didn't take a stand soon. Without that, they were all going to end up dead. Especially if Jake died, or just left. It was time for him to finally grow a pair and step up then.

  Luckily, he had Dave there to lend a hand. The boy had even done it without being asked for help, making it seem like he was just following orders. That had involved walking Sandy out of the room at gun point. Shotgun point? To go and get her things. What she could carry, some food, warm clothes and all that.

  When she came back she was crying, wet, fat tears rolling down her blotchy face.

  "I... You can't throw me out!" Her voice was loud enough that Jake would have shot her already.

  Nate didn't even bother touching his own gun. This wasn't a threat, after all. Dave... sighed, his mind clear and unworried.

  "We can, and we are. You knew the rules. Hell, the rule was made because you keep going around pushing people, and nearly starting fights. You had a chance, but didn't think that we'd actually do anything about it. You were wrong. Now you have to leave, and probably die. All alone. It isn't going to be fun. I suggest you run straight into town and find a cleared house to hold up in. You aren't a fighter, so running and hiding is your best chance." There was no pity in him over it, or remorse.

  He also didn't hate Sandy. The boy just didn't care about her. Not past his bit of advice, which was really about as good as she could do for the time being. Go and hide herself. Until the food and water ran out. Then she'd have to find something, in order to survive.

  Without other people to help her, she was dead.

  She knew it too.

  Nate really had to wonder what she'd been thinking, but her inner voice explained it all, desperately seeking some way to make it all right again. Troy had smiled at her, which she took to be a set up, or him saying that he was going to rape her later, since she wasn't allowed to fight back. It wasn't, of course. Troy, for his part, was trying to patch things up and actually not be the one making things worse. That had set her off, and she knew that if she didn't strike fast and hard, she was going to be hurt. Hence the chair.

  It was unreasonable, and close to insane, but that was also the kind of world they lived in now, wasn't it? If it had been him in her place... Well, no one had ever tried to rape him, had they? A camp councilor had touched him once, when he was twelve, but that had been a very different situation really. The other boy had only been about eighteen, and while it was illegal, it wasn't the kind of thing that had scared him all that deeply. Not at all, really. It had taken most of a decade for him to really get that it had even been wrong. At the time he'd really just felt grateful to have gotten lucky.

  Sandy had been living in fear for months though, and it had caused her to melt down, and act out. Only there was a rule saying that you couldn't get away with that any longer. A new one, but it was a thing that they had to have. Otherwise too many were simply going to die.

  It hurt though, watching her stand there, knowing she wasn't going to be able to survive. Knowing that she didn't want to leave, but that her own misbehavior had caused it to happen. Really, he wanted to go and give her a hug. To make it right for her, showing compassion, and a trust that would soothe her mind and let her work things around into a pattern that could function for everyone in the place.

  That wasn't going to happen though, and couldn't. She wasn't capable of change, not in the time they had. Worse, even if she was given that kind of a chance, no one would believe his next threat. More would die, if that happened. Either when Jake was forced to take them out, or they killed each other.

  Nodding, feeling on the verge of tears himself. Nate hid it. There was a time for that kind of thing. Alone. In the dark, with a pillow over his face. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that, and probably wouldn't be even close to the last.

  "Sandy..." What could he tell her? She just sobbed, and stood there, holding all of her worldly belongings in a single, half-full pillow case. It had a soft and well worn flower pattern on it, all in red. Also stains from drool and other fluids that leaked out during the night. The woman just wasn't that into being clean. "You can take some food with you. Lois will get you some things. What you can carry." Giving her more than that wouldn't help her.

  Dave, managing to seem almost cheerful, even without smiling, pushed her in the back with the shotgun he carried. There was a shrug after that, the woman not moving.

  He spoke, a sound that sent a chill down Nate's spine. It was as if the devil himself had walked into the room and took control of Dave's young body. His thoughts were both gleeful and dark, at the same time. Visions of killing Sandy flooded into his head. Of raping her first, too. Those left after a second and a small trickle of something else came then. A tiny and strange thing that almost made the boy curious. It was close to compassion, really. A thing that he normally didn't have to deal with.

  "Do you want me to shoot you?" It could have been a threat, and even should have been. A thing designed to get her to move. It wasn't. His tone was even almost friendly. "It will be quicker than starving to death, or being turned into a Zombie. Plus, that way I won't have to kill you again later."

  Standing there, all hope gone, the woman... Nodded. It was a sad thing, and slow, but she didn't try to argue anymore. Then she dropped her things, without looking down, and started to walk out the back door.

  Dave looked at him.

  "She's going. What happens outside, far enough away, is up to her." He didn't glare, but his words were cold, as if he expected a fight. Like Nate would stop him.

  That should have happened, naturally. The ruling was his, and Dave, no matter how hard he was inside, was a boy. One young enough that even at the end of the world he hadn't expected anyone to ever take him seriously. They didn't, for the most part. Not even the ones that stood there, unbelieving. Knowing that he, Dave the cleaner, would do exactly what he'd just said.

  If he were a real man, Nate knew he would have gone with them. Done the killing himself. Putting the woman out of her misery, as a kindness. That wasn't a thing that he held inside himself, he knew. Oh, it wasn't impossible to think that he could take a life. It had happened before, since the end, but it was hard for him.

&
nbsp; The truth was, he just wasn't strong enough to handle the idea.

  Dave, the little boy, was more of a man that way. Not that being a man meant you had to kill. It was the internal strength that made the difference.

  Slowly, he nodded.

  "That's her choice. Or she could simply leave."

  No one looked at him. Not directly. Their thoughts, he found given how they were practically being shouted into his brain, spoke of things that seemed different than he would have thought. They were all scared, since this could happen to them as well, and they all knew it. Half of the people in the room had voted to have someone kicked out before, once. Jake.

  Only Sandy wasn't him. She was a person that was fearful, and had become a bully to try and protect herself. Now that fear had gotten her into a place she didn't have the power to get out of. They all got that, after a fashion. They knew that if people were going to be kicked out for any reason, that trying to send Jake away first had been a mistake. One they couldn't take back.

  He didn't know what happened next.

  Not after the point that Dave walked her out of the house. The kid, dressed all in blue, didn't point the weapon at her. That was held at an angle, pointed over his own shoulder. Carefully aimed upward and away from the floor above them. He wasn't going out to execute a criminal after all. Just help out a person that needed it. Even if he was planning on asking her to blow him first. Dirty or not, she was a woman, and Dave didn't feel all that picky. She could say no, of course. The boy was going to shoot her anyway.

  There was no sound of anything happening for a long time, and they were both out of his immediate range. If he was picking things up at all and not just insane. Hearing voices that told him things that were simply imagined. Possibly making up the whole thing, undead and all? If so, his mind had gone truly sick, since living in a world like this one was about as bad as anything he could imagine.

  About forty minutes later, softly, from the far side of the farm, away from the main woodlot, there was a bang. It didn't seem that loud. A soft pop that could have been anything. It wasn't. They all winced when they heard it, too.

  Just standing there, he was shocked to find a small hand on his arm. Sammi looked up at him, her face hard. She spoke softly, but her voice seemed old to him. As world weary as he felt himself.

  "It was a hard thing to do, but the right choice. Everyone understands that." There was a bit of a command to the words, as if telling everyone else there to get in line, and be on board with the new way things were going down, or else a certain little girl would be kicking their behinds. Her thoughts were darker than that. Not about death, but the knowledge that sending Sandy away, even if she'd been a problem, really hurt him. This little girl knew, at least in part, what doing that had cost him, in a way that she simply shouldn't have. Like a person that had done something similar herself once.

  Not that he could let the others see that. Not how he felt, or what he picked up from anyone else. They needed him to be strong. Not a second Jake, but someone that they knew would watch out for them, as long as they followed the rules. Even the new ones.

  Sighing, he looked away. Not for long though.

  "Right. Well, everyone knows that we won't put up with too much of that kind of thing, now. Attacking others, unless in self-defense, or defense of another person, isn't allowed. I don't want to toss out every person having a bad day, but if you use a weapon to try and hurt someone, anyone, then you have to go. We can't have anarchy here." He stopped and looked around, getting that a lot of them sort of understood that idea. They'd tried that, and people died. Six of them at first, then fifteen when Jake came back, and had to stop them. He hadn't taken out all of the people in on that however. At least ten people in the room got what he was thinking, and lowered their own heads. "When we tried that, it didn't go well. Now... Everyone go and get a bath. Sammi, will you make sure that the women all work through? I'll take the men. Everyone... Go. Hygiene is important."

  It felt like a stupid thing to say. Like, after the day that they'd just had, the important thing was not smelling the place up? The truth was that he really wanted people to do something constructive for a change. For them to stand up, and forget as best they could that he and Dave had just killed a woman for being too afraid.

  Oh, it was nice that he didn't have to pull the trigger himself, that he could place it all on the boy, but that wasn't really the truth. Sandy had been dead the second he told her to go. It would be nice to blame her, for picking up the chair to start with. That would have made some sense even, but so many people around him were driven by things they didn't consciously control anymore. Maybe that had always been the case? If so, then he'd just murdered a woman for something that she wasn't responsible for, hadn't he?

  It left him feeling raw. Despondent. Rather than try to fight the feeling, he just took a deep breath.

  "All right, everyone that hasn't had a bath today, go and get your things. We'll put a guard out, so you'll be safe. Let's go." He nearly clapped at everyone, but didn't need to. They went. Afraid of what he might do to them if they didn't. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it worked.

  For now.

  A few minutes later, as a string of people filed out the back door, Dave came back in, smiling.

  "That's done." There was a pleased tone to his words. "It wouldn't have taken so long, but I asked her to give me a blowjob first. While she did it I told her that I could get her in at Jake's little house, if she wanted. It being reasonably safe there. She was so happy to hear it." Then he looked around the room and shrugged. "Then I shot her in the back of the head. There is no safe place. I just didn't want her to die sad."

  This wasn't whispered, and several of the people in the room... Nodded. Agreeing that it was a kindness, and not even caring that the boy had asked a dying woman to perform for him like he had. That part barely registered with most of them. The world had just gotten too dark for them to even care now.

  Too devoid of hope, or even common sense.

  Feeling ancient suddenly, he got up, and went to find Tipper, or Carl. They were both needed for the run in the morning, with Jake. If they'd go. It was harder to find them than it really should have been. They weren't in the house though. Carl was out with his team, hunting, and Tipper...

  Well, she was there, just not where he would have looked naturally.

  He found her in the third upstairs bedroom, naked, with Randy on top of her, as Heather looked on. Her thoughts... Were so sad it was miserable to even come into contact with. Most people didn't have sex out in the open, but the broken pregnant girl, all dressed in black that day, wasn't worried about losing Randy. No, she knew that would happen. It would be one of the new women. One that hadn't come yet, but would, soon.

  No, her pain came about because of Jake. She knew that this would hurt him, if he found out about it. When he did, since she'd have to tell him. She also knew that Nate was about to come into the room, and looked up, as if on cue.

  "I have to do it. I don't want to, but... It's the only way." The words were muttered, but he understood. Part of it, at least.

  The girl was depressed about what she had to do. If she didn't fix the future though, then the whole world would die. It was insane enough, but to her it was blindingly clear. If convoluted. She had to make Jake hurt, goad him without mercy, so that he'd be in the right place, when he was needed. Her eye's implored him to understand, but her words were filled with dark humor. Of course, she also clearly knew that Nate was reading her mind.

  Because that made sense, didn't it? The insane girl thought she could see the future, and was right enough that people noticed it. In most of those visions, Nate read minds. It was just a thing to her.

  She went on, a little louder, getting the attention of the grunting pair on top of the mattress. There was no one else in the room.

  "Oh, Nate. Is something wrong? Or... Do you want to join us? You like men, right? I'm sure that Randy will be happy to take care of that. We have s
ome oil. I got it from the stores." She smiled, her face still sad underneath it all. She was young, only fifteen, he knew. She really did have a small glass jar of oil however.

  The others stopped at least, and looked at him wide eyed and like they'd been caught by their parents. Randy did at least.

  "No, thanks. I really just came to see if Tipper would be willing to make a run with Jake, and some others, into Clyde. Tomorrow, after breakfast? You'll be taking the police van, the small wooden cart too, in case you have to walk back. Dave already volunteered."

  There was a blank look, and Tipper, making direct eye contact with him, started moving a bit, until the nineteen year old redhead on top of her began thrusting. Her words were all business however. Focused and to the point.

  "Who's driving? I can do it. I checked the vehicle out. Stick, but I've done that before." She started making a rotating movement, the boy on top of her barely staying on. Both of them increased speed.

  "I was going to get Carl for that. Having two drivers can't hurt though. We don't know what will happen."

  She just nodded.

  "I'll be in on that then. I need to..." She stopped for a second, and moaned, a pleasurable sound, then started talking again almost instantly, her voice completely normal again. "I need to discuss some things with Jake anyway." What those were didn't come to the surface, being as distracted as she was.

  Heather just nodded at him.

  When she thought, it was clear that this kind of scene wasn't odd at all. Not just for them. Everyone knew that the third room was the daytime sex spot. If you came in, you were supposed to either have a partner, or be willing to do whoever you found. That had been a thing he hadn't picked up yet, for some reason. The idea was that the more prudish people could be left out of things that way, without being disturbed.

  Without saying anything more, he left.

  Gay, single and open minded or not, he really didn't want to get involved with panic sex at the end of the world. Even the thought of it kept bringing him back to Miguel. It hurt so much to think about. He'd been the love of his life, and now...