The Clock Runs Down_The Servant

by Joe Kelly

  Beth almost seemed to glow as she walked slowly down the aisle accompanied by Steve who was standing in for Beth’s father. Four of the girls, including Sally the tiny seven-year-old followed Beth down the aisle holding the Dresses train. Sally had the most intense look of concentration on her elfin face as if she was doing the most important job in the world.

  I hope that nothing ruins this for them, Jared silently prayed to whoever might be listening. He wasn’t even tempted to smile as Ori stepped up beside Beth, nervous sweat beaded his forehead. He had never seen Ori this nervous, well it’s a big step brother and I wish you the best. Billy, a huge grin plastered on his face, came to stand beside Ori carrying a small needle point pillow with a ring on it. From the look of it, Billy wanted to hoot and holler and cut up but with almost inhuman concentration he kept himself regulated to just bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

  Jared looked around the room, everyone not on guard duty were packed into the center. For the first time that he could remember, every single one of them were smiling and not a few eyes were bright with tears. He couldn’t blame them, this was more than just a wedding, it was an affirmation that life went on, and that no matter how much they had lost, no matter what was happening out in the wider world, that life went on and they were not going to quit or give in to despair.

  He glanced at Jill out of the corner of his eye, who stood with the other bridesmaids, she looks so beautiful, all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her. his gaze lingered for a moment soaking in the vision.

  Mind on business, he told himself as he cleared his throat drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Since you folks have seen fit to give me the job of marrying these two, I guess we need to get on with it.” Jared said as he looked into Ori’s eyes and smiled. “Dearly beloved, we are….” The time-honored words flowed from his lips as Jared led the first wedding of the new year and the new world.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  It stood in the snow under the shadows of a stately Hemlock, the bowler hat it wore cocked rakishly on its head. Cloudy blue eyes, the eyes of a dead man, stared down the mountain at the old visitor center and farm. Its attack using the dead had failed to wipe out the farm, but it had succeeded in creating fear, fear ate at hope and with out hope they would fall and its tool could create that fear. But now this, who was this man and his friends who kept turning its plan on end. This would not do, not do at all, it thought. Who the redhead was, as important as it might be, was nothing compared to this moment. It will have to be dealt with, luckily, I have a tool close by, it thought

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Mikhail sat on a headstone and looked around the snow-covered cemetery that sat high above the river valley. He had always felt comfortable in places like this. At least till the Day. Death had been a constant companion for so long that being at cemeteries was like visiting friends. He had even once dreamed of building a nice home on a cemetery. But the laws forbade it.

  Yet another reason to hate the old order. Always butting in to people’s lives, almost as bad as the old communists back home. He snorted with contempt, wishing he could have seen the undead swarm over the fat and power-hungry congress. He would have enjoyed that news broadcast.

  He sat there under the gray sky; reveling in daydreams of the people he hated being eaten alive and finally dying becoming just another mindless drone. Nothing special, no money and no power feeling just hatred and hunger. Hearing the crunch of boots on snow he looked up and smiled. “So glad you could make it” he said rising.

  “Didn’t have much of a choice did I” the man said bitterly, hatred burned in his eyes, Mikhail smiled coldly at the man who was helpless to stand against him.

  “No you really didn’t, but that’s no matter. I have a little job for you. Do this and you’re free of me” he lied smoothly. In some ways doing this to this man after the pathetic wedding had lifted their spirits made this even more enjoyable. Crushing that flicker of hope for the future down under his heel and grinding it out of existence was almost as exhilarating as watching the light of life fade from another person’s eyes.

  “bull shit and we both know it” the man replied. Mikhail chuckled. Knowing his ruined face was hideous to the man who stood before him. He reveled in that revulsion.

  “I have no reason to lie to you, none. You do this for me and I give you the antidote, your woman lives, and you won’t see me again. but I will see you thru my scope. Fail me and you both die. all you have to do is slip this into the cripple’s food, and that’s it.” Mikhail said holding up a small vial. There would be more of course, and at the end a coup de grace that would crush the red head.

  “Why” the other man asked hoping for something that might make the task morally acceptable and knowing that there was nothing that would. Despair and self disgust written all over his face.

  “because I hate him, and I want him dead.” Mikhail said. “that’s reason enough” He held out the vial and the man took it with a shaking hand, like it was viper waiting to strike. He didn’t even look at the vial, just slipped it into a pocket and glared at Mikhail.

  No spine none at all Mikhail thought. he should have felt jealous at the unmarred good looks of the older man. But he didn’t, the American was a dead man walking and didn’t matter. And his woman was a slender brainless beautiful slut, so typically American. She thought beauty, big breasts and what’s between her legs was enough to make up for her lack of intelligence. She was no better than the undead. Worth nothing beyond her ability to have sex and this fool fell for her and thinks she loves him. Ha. Soon enough he would see the error of his ways.

  “If I do this and I see you again, I will kill you.” The man said with a fury born of self-disgust.

  “If you were a real man you would have come at me guns blazing today hoping I had the antidote on me. So, spare me your false bravado, American.” Mikhail said rubbing salt in the wound and enjoying himself immensely. “go do the job. If you really love that Pzidi, you’ll do it as soon as possible. You do love the whore don’t you.”

  “She’s not a whore” the man snapped clenching his fists, only the thought that Mikhail held the means to save his Girlfriend held him in place.

  “she’s young, and spreads her legs for anything, even dogs” Mikhail replied with savage delight, hoping the fool charged him. The man clenched his fists again and took a step forward. But the pistol Mikhail suddenly pointed at him stopped the stranger cold. “Do what I ask, and she lives. I don’t care who or what she beds. You only have to decide if you really love her. her life for the cripple’s life. Now get out of my sight.”

  Mikhail began to laugh watching as the man turned and stumbled away. Oh what fun it was to break a man’s spirit. The fact he had snuck past their defenses and made a camp up here in the cemetery overlooking their precious farm was just added pleasure. He could get rid of that annoying Red head whenever he wanted. But first he wanted him to suffer a bit. maybe burn the barn down, set their precious center on fire too. Rape and kill his woman.

  Killing the cripple would be a start, but he had a few other strings for his bow just in case that old bastard screwed him over. He was in no real rush. He had time enough. he only had to stop them from reaching that Fort. Why he didn’t know and didn’t really care.

  Of course, if the man found out that his precious whore was actually sick, and not poisoned before he applied the poison to the cripple’s food he would most likely tell the red head about Mikhail being up here, But once the cripple was dead, the old man could never admit he had done the deed.

  Either way Mikhail had ruined his life, and his soul and that was only little less entertaining then killing someone. Aaah like the good old days he thought. There were times, like today, he missed the good old days. Back when he was young maverick in the KGB, and then the FSB after that, with his side job in the Grupperovka as a hit man. Moscow had been such a wonderful place to practice his trade. But now, now he had th
e world to practice in.

  Maybe he was insane, what was it G.B Burgin had said "I suppose it is much more comfortable to be mad and know it, than to be sane and have one's doubts." He laughed aloud.

  A chill settled over him, that had nothing to do with the weather, the cloying smell of rotted flesh filled his nose. “Well it’s started, but it will be a slow process. That accelerates the closer they get to their goal. But I promise you that none of them will reach their destination.” He said aloud, not looking behind him. He knew it was standing there, silent and evil. Head cocked as it studied him. Its eyes peering out from under the brim of that absurd hat.

  “I had hoped that the Militia fools would have killed more, but they were as incompetent as I had thought.” He got the distinct impression it agreed but was still pleased with the outcome, and then suddenly it was gone, if it had ever really been there. who was to say if all this wasn’t in his mind.

  A phantasm set to haunt him by his own psyche. Destiny by coincidence and psychosis he thought with a laugh. but that didn’t matter either. He had a job and that gave him purpose. And after this little job, he knew there was another one for him up north once he succeeded here. An even bigger job waited that would make him a prince amongst men.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Storm clouds rolled in breaking like combers over the mountains. Swollen and dark they carried the promise of more snow. A cold wind boomed thru the valleys driving a wave of snow before it. The old year was dead, and the new year struggled to take its first breath.

  Chapter 14

  “Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

  And our hearts, though stout and brave,

  Still, like muffled drums, are beating

  Funeral marches to the grave.

  In the world's broad field of battle,

  In the bivouac of Life,

  Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

  Be a hero in the strife!”

  -kipling

  Steve sat stiffly eating his bowl of soup which he was really beginning to hate. In order to stretch their supplies a decision had been made to cut back on large meals. Not that large meals had been a daily occurrence anyway. But for four days now soup had been served for Lunch. At least breakfast had been eggs, and bacon. What he wouldn’t give for biscuits and gravy, or biscuits and jelly. When they left the farm and no longer had access to eggs and fresh bacon and Ham it was truly going to suck he thought.

  “you know you look like Crap” Kyle commented as he eyed his own bowl of soup. “I have to admit that Pappy makes better soup than this and that’s not a compliment.”

  Steve chuckled, Pappy’s cooking was universally despised in the group. “I was on guard duty last night.” Steve explained. “and I haven’t slept much in the last couple of days.”

  “I feel for you.” Kyle said. “lot of that going around.”

  “After the battle and the wedding, I think that folks are expecting the bottom to drop out.” Steve said

  “I don’t care if it does, I’ll go down fighting. I just hope someone is left alive to put my corpse down. I don’t want to be one of those things” Kyle said wishing he could just pour the soup out, unfortunately he was also hungry and refused to waste food, any food. “you know I miss my wife’s cooking, she could burn water but she cooked better than this slop.”

  Steve chuckled again. “Don’t let Bridget hear you, she cooked that soup. And” he said looking around to make sure Bridget was not within range to hear. “I agree she can’t cook soup, but I will deny it if you tell her I said so.”

  “you are a wise man,” Kyle observed. “I never mentioned my dislike of my wife’s cooking either. Not that I was home a lot, regretted it some back then. Now I really regret it, I wish I’d spent more time at home, so I’d have more memories.”

  Kyle never really talked much about his life before the dead so it surprised Steve that he had even mentioned it. At least we are no longer at each other’s throats, He isn’t a bad guy now that I’ve gotten to know him.

  “I think all of us wish we had spent more time making memories.” Steve commented his attention going to the entrance as Henry stepped inside. Henrys salt and pepper hair was uncombed, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  I still don’t like him much, but I have to admit that the man has come a long way since Bergstown. He is really taking it hard since his girlfriend Stephanie got sick. Hard enough that he had slipped back into his shell and barely talked to anyone now and when he did, he sounded pissed off at the world. Not that I can blame either. Henry still did his assigned duties but that was it and as soon as he was off duty he was in the Med RV sitting beside Stephanie. I have to admit that he does seem to love her. I’d probably be a lot worse if it was Bridget.

  This morning Henry looked pale, sweaty and nervous, maybe he was sick. God the last thing this group needs was for some bug to sweep through the it.

  He made a mental note to mention the idea to Linda, who was probably already worrying about it anyway. Taking a bite of corn bread dipped in his soup he watched as Henry served himself a bowl of soup and scooped up a single piece of cornbread then just stop and stare blankly at the pot of soup for a moment. Abruptly Henry shook himself back into the world and plodded to an empty table where he sat down heavily.

  “What’s up with him?” Chris asked quietly, leaning towards Steve. “He looks like shit.”

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately.” Steve asked. Kyle snorted a laugh.

  “I am sexier than socks on a Rooster” Chris shot back a grin splitting his face.

  “He must really love that girl, he’s gone downhill since she got sick.” Shelley said joining the conversation. Like Jill, she was wearing her hair pulled back to the nape of her neck where it spilled down between her shoulder blades.

  “Have you seen that girl, he’s in love all right.” Chris replied with a grin miming a set of large breasts. Shelly gave him a look that spoke volumes. “speaking of … hows Bridget dealing with being Pregnant?” Henry was forgotten as they talked of more personal things.

  Henry sat eating silently, isolated from everyone. His nerves twisted up tight. He had hoped, prayed that Linda would figure out what was wrong with Stephanie. But three days had passed with no results. Henry lifted his eyes and looked across the room at Kevin for the space of a heartbeat.

  Kevin and Mattie were talking quietly and smiling a lot. He was a good-looking guy, a lot like Henry’s nephew had been, and about the same age. He was in need of a haircut like everyone else around here who didn’t shave their heads. It was obvious that he and Mattie were falling in love which normally would have been a grand thing. A grand thing indeed if death didn’t hover in the wings for him.

  Henry smiled sadly as that thought led him back to Stephanie who had found a small niche in the group being halfway talented with scissors. She and Jill had trimmed a lot of hair till, the sickness, though both women flatly refused to become nothing but Stylists of the Apocalypse, as Jill had put it.

  Jared had found that funny and had even complimented Stephanie on doing a good job, Henry was well aware that Jared had not been overly fond of Stephanie from the beginning but had been trying to include her in more things around the camp since they had arrived on the farm. Henry had really appreciated that.

  Amusingly a few months ago he would have prefaced the name Jared with that prick or the asshole. The man had turned out to be a good guy, hard but good. You only had to watch him with the children to see he had major soft side. Especially that kid Billy, Jared doted on the boy.

  He thought about anything but what was wrong with Stephanie, that he wanted to avoid, and he didn’t know how much longer he could take the situation.

  Henrys spoon scrapped an empty bowl, surprised he looked down and realized he had eaten the entire thing without tasting it, he rose silently and crossed the room and washed his bowl then placed it in the rack. Finished he walked slowly from the center, a tired and beaten man.

 
; ✽ ✽ ✽

  Linda watched her patient closely for a moment then turned back to her medical books. She had no real idea what might be wrong with Stephanie not that she wasn’t doing her best to figure it out. It was like playing Sherlock Holmes with symptoms as clues. Before the dead had risen there would have been a battery of tests to run that would have given her much more information pointing her towards the solution. Of course back then all she would have to do was exactly what the Doctor told her to do.

  Now she was playing Nurse, Intern, Doctor and Med student rolled into one and people’s lives were on the line. She had learned a lot from Doc Winston since their arrival at the Farm. But frankly not nearly enough, she thought as she glanced towards the back where Stephanie lay restrained to the bed. The young woman hadn’t been thrilled by the restraints, even less with the reasons.

  Namely, the restraints were there in case a patient died, so there was no fear of walking in and getting torn apart because a patient dead while you stepped out to go to the bathroom. God give me something to help this girl she prayed.