Darren Wearmouth - Second Activation

Rick looked down at my rifle. “How many people have you killed?”

“Only ones that want to kill me,” I said.

“Do you know when it might all end?”

“A techy guy gave us some info that might just—”

Jack ducked by window. “Hurry up. We’re gonna be seen from miles around.”

“Where are the weapons, Rick?” I said.

“This way.” He led me to a large wooden chest next to the fridge. “He keeps his guns in here.”

I slid the chest to the center of the basement. Smoke thickened around me, and I squatted to breathe fresher air.

Rick knelt by his brother and fumbled with his belt.

“Got any tools down here? We need a bar, a hammer,” I said and pulled my sweater over my mouth and nose. The back of my throat stung, and my eyes streamed. I suppressed a cough and rattled the chunky brass padlock.

He threw me a bunch of keys. “It’s the small one.”

I clicked open the lock and swung open the chest, revealing a small host of weapons and boxes of ammunition. I reached for a hunting rifle. Rick threw out an arm and held me back.

“What’s wrong? We’ll choke down here,” I said.

“It’s like we’re looting my dead brother’s house…”

“Not being funny, Rick, but—” I coughed five times in quick succession. “You need to make a decision. Now.”

He lowered his arm. “Get what you need.”

I thought about giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder but didn’t want to waste any time. I grabbed a Remington hunting rifle complete with telescopic sight.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jack said.

Rick squinted and blinked. We probably had a minute before being overcome. He slid a magazine into the grip of a Glock.

“We’ll sort the weapons outside,” I said. “Just grab it for now.”

He passed me seven boxes of rounds, which I threw through the window. He tossed out a Colt revolver and a Glock.

It felt like my lungs were about to burst. “Let’s get out of here.”

He scrambled over and crouched by his brother for a few moments. I pulled the chair over to the window, grabbed the frame, and hauled myself out. I rolled on grass away from the billowing smoke pouring out of the window and gratefully gulped clean air.

“Rick, come on, you’ll die down there,” Jack said.

Rick threw a black bag and two hunting knives out. Jack grabbed his arm, assisting him to safety. He flopped on the grass next to me and leaned back on his elbows. None of this could have been easy for him.

Jack stuffed guns and ammo into the bag and slung it over his shoulder. I grabbed the Remington in my left hand and peered up at black smoke, pumping into the clear blue sky.

“Back to the car before any others show up,” I said.

We jogged to the highway, although my tight chest hindered my pace. I jumped into the back, letting the others take the front. Jack punched the accelerator and headed in the direction of New York City.

“That rifle’s a decent score,” Jack said. “Could have done with it in Ohio.”

Rick stabbed his finger at Jack. “Hey, that’s my bro’s stuff—have some respect.”

I acknowledged him with a raised hand but kept my eyes firmly on the road ahead. We would soon be in an urban jungle with threats everywhere; sentimentality would only lead to mistakes. I realized my thoughts had a hint of callousness, but our time for remembrance would come if we remained focused on our immediate objectives.

“Do you know the way to the Long Island Expressway in Queens?” I asked.

“Is that where the other guys are?” Rick said. “If the highway stays like this, maybe twenty minutes.”

“It’s where they were. We need to stop, check weapons, and get ourselves ready.”

“Take the next exit. I know a good spot.”

Under Rick’s direction, Jack took us through a small housing development, under the highway, and toward the edge of a tree-lined reservoir. He parked on the grass on the side of the road.

We sat silently for a few moments, surveying all around. I lowered my window and listened for any suspicious sounds in close proximity. A large white bird flapped over the reservoir.

“Let’s do it here. Stay alert,” I said.

I popped open the trunk and pulled out the black bag. Jack checked the hunting rifle over with an air of efficiency. Rick had kept hold of the Glock after leaving the house, and gave it a once-over. I placed rounds into the Colt’s cylinder and threw it back in the trunk before topping up my rifle mag.

“I get a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me,” Rick said. “What was it you said back at my bro’s? Something about a techy guy?”

“Do you know where Hart Island is from here?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s close. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Some of the people who caused this mess are probably there,” Jack said.

Rick’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Let’s go. I’m in the mood to kick some ass.”

I shook my head. “We can’t just rock up, all guns blazing. There’re too many of them.”

“We get the others from New York to help us, right?”

“We’ll see,” Jack said. “First, they need to be alive; second, they have to believe us.”

“Who are these fuckers in Hart Island?” Rick said.

“They’re a group called Genesis Alliance,” I said. “They used a network of devices to send something called an activation. There’s another one coming on Tuesday.”

“Will it turn us into psychos?”

“No,” Jack said. “We’ve been neutralized and can help you too.”

Rick folded his arms and glowered at Jack. “How do you know all of this?”

“We met a member of their techy team. They killed him yesterday afternoon after he decided to help us. All we’ve got to do is zap you several times on the head with a cattle prod.”

“For the sake of full disclosure,” I said, “we tried it on an old guy in Ohio, and he dropped dead.”

“A cattle prod shouldn’t kill you, man. We used to play around with them as kids.”

“Just warning you. If you do it, it’s at your own risk.”

“What choice have I got? I don’t want to end up like my…” he looked away.

“Are you one hundred percent sure?” I asked.

Rick placed his Glock on the grass and turned back to me with a steely resolve in his eyes. “I’m ready—go for it.”

I retrieved a prod from the trunk and passed it to Jack. Rick seemed very trusting, although if I were in his shoes, I’d also take the gamble if it meant avoiding a second activation. Any survivor wanting to make it in this world had to adapt to strange choices. If I thought deeply enough about killers, I might come to the conclusion that we were murdering innocent people. Getting wrapped around the axle about the morals of our predicament would only damage our chances of seeing this thing through.

Jack circled Rick and held the prod toward the back of his head. “Ready?”

He took a deep breath. “They told you it would work, right?”

“We’d have to be some kind of weird perverts if we were lying,” I said.

“Do it.”

Jack pressed the button. The prod let out an electric snap.

Rick lurched forward and grabbed the back of his head. “Argh, you mother—”

“Can you handle a few more?” Jack asked.

“Do I need to?”

“Apparently,” I said.

He stood upright and tensed his arms by his side in anticipation. Jack zapped five more times. Rick took it like a man. I was glad Brett had been able to use his strange device on me.

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” he said.

“It’ll work, don’t worry,” I said, completely unsure of my words. “Even if it doesn’t, you won’t die; you’ll end up heading to Genesis Alliance to be turned into a laborer.”