Brian Steele - 4POCALYPSE - Four Tales of a Dark Future

I wonder what Camus what say if he could see me now, knee deep in a slush of human gore and vegetable rot, skeletal limbs and thorny vines hanging in my face. Probably something esoteric and confusing. I once told Mandela that he was as smart as Camus, and I thought the old man was going to have a heart attack from laughing so hard. Turns out Camus was some big shit academic writer before the world ended. Mandela also had the impression that Camus had seen some really bad shit in those early days of the Mancer Wars.

Old Man Mandela. The few months we stayed with him and his crew, I like to think we were actually happy. While Anne and her Gimmes were ruthless scavengers, ready to kill each other for scraps, the Northerners (as they loosely referred to themselves) acted as a community. Mandela didn’t even like to be considered their leader, although everyone knew it. Teddy, the huge redheaded guy, oversaw most of the daily operations with Jackie the Sniper in charge of security. They had a system that worked better than what we had used at Sigma-8, although a bit more dangerous with what was creeping around across the river. Sure they were Leechers, but they had learned how to deal with the addiction best they could. Every now and again, somebody succumbed and they were dropped. It was sad, but it was life. Nobody judged each other; nobody judged Sean and Gemmel for not leeching.

And only Mandela knew about me.

I only leeched two more times while with the Northerners. Once when out on patrol with Sean and Gemmel. Yeah, we got our old jobs back. We ran into about half a dozen Feeders, and since it was just us, I thought it would be easier. Sean yelled at me for days. Of course, the second time happened when one of Mandela’s own people lost it in camp. Most people were already out on their duties, and this guy bought it real close to the infirmary. A score of people saw me tear open a Feeder with my bare hands, but nobody said anything or ever treated me weird. Who knows, maybe Mandela did tell them all something.

Things were good, or as good as they could be, but I felt the sword still hanging over my head. She won’t be a Feeder or a Mancer — possibly something worse! I didn’t experience any type of hunger like the other Leechers, but that didn’t mean that one day I wouldn’t wake up a monster. I guess I always feared, even expected, that day would be the very next. In all my concerns about tomorrow, it never occurred to me that somebody would be worried about me.

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 07-07-24

“I seriously don’t envy those on regular farming rotation.”

“Damn it, Sienna,” rumbled Gemmel.

Sienna arched her shoulder, trying to work out the pain knotted there. She had peeled off her shirt and tucked it into her waistband, her navy blue cargos hanging low on her hips. Her white, military-issue bra was soaked with sweat and she briefly considered going to change it when she caught the look on Gemmel’s face.

“What? What did I say?”

Rainie, a young woman she had befriended, laughed so hard behind her she almost started coughing. “For a smart chick, Sienna, you can be really clueless. I’m talking incredibly dim.”

Sienna attempted to decipher Rainie’s blushing amusement and the nuclear holocaust worthy glare Gemmel was giving her friend.

“Gemmel, don’t get mad at…” she began, but he was already storming off.

“Wow, I’m totally not getting involved in your domestic squabble,” quipped Rainie.

Domestic squabble? Rainie was a petite, hyper, blonde girl barely out of her teens. Highly opinionated and vocal about those opinions, people either loved or hated her. Sienna had instantly gravitated to the manic young Leecher.

“So, what just happened?” Sienna asked as she and Rainie started hauling a pitiful daily harvest of leaf lettuce back to camp.

“Oh gosh, Gemmel! Farming is such hard work!” replied Rainie in a mocking high voice. “I’m so hot, I better strip down naked here in front of you!”

“Wait, what?”

“Like, why you two aren’t fucking like drunk…”

“Whoa! He’s like my big brother!”

“Eh, maybe in your celibate fantasy land.”

Sienna was stunned. Gemmel? He had always been there, like family, her brother’s best friend. She had known him for so long, it was ridiculous. Giant, grumpy Gemmel.

With the sack of lettuce slung over her shoulder, she thought over what she knew of his personal life. Sienna really never knew him to bed up with anyone, long term or short. There had been that one girl, years ago, some mouthy brunette named Polly, but that had ended before it started. It wasn’t that Gemmel wasn’t attractive — dark complexion, shaved head, those deep-set brown eyes, and… oh, hell.

Sienna shook her head. It couldn’t be. She was just feeling the pangs of her own miserable, lacking sex life. She hadn’t been laid in over a year, not since she had broke off the casual thing she had been engaged in with Collin. Since the spiral into weirdness that forced her out of Sigma-8, she hadn’t felt comfortable getting close enough to anyone to consider it. Even though Jackie was an insanely pretty man.

Sigma-8. Gemmel had left Sigma-8 because of them, because of her. Oh, hell.

“This is bad,” said Rainie.

“Gee, you think?” replied Sienna sarcastically.

“No, look you dumbass,” said Rainie, pointing. “There’s nobody at the gate.”

Spacey Sienna, she thought to herself.

A rudimentary perimeter had been erected around the central hub of camp, with five gates as access points. They were guarded at all times, always closed except when people where moving through them. Now, it stood open and abandoned. Rainie dropped her lettuce and produced a Colt .45 that was probably over a century old.

“Stay behind me,” said Sienna, dropping her sack as well, and pulling out two CZ75’s.

Gemmel had restored the fully automatic handguns a month ago. He wanted her to have something powerful, but light enough for her to use. She recalled the way he had presented them to her, the concern on his face. I really am incredibly dim! How hadn’t she noticed all the little signs?

Had this situation not coincided with her revelations about Gemmel, she wouldn’t have been distracted. Sienna wasn’t one to get blown over by flaky, girly things. Regardless, she almost missed the Feeder until it was nearly upon her. Rainie’s sudden intake of breath alerted her, she dropped to her knee, and took out the creature’s head.

Sienna was up on her feet and rushing the gates without another thought. Except, instead of a battle, or even a slaughter, she found half of the camp prostrate and surrounded by statue-still Feeders. Her eyes went wide when every black maw turned in her direction. Then, they went above her.

“So, you’re the little guttersnipe causing so much anxiety.”

Shimmering flecks of coal for eyes in pale, doughy features, he was attired in a pin-stripped suit and red tie. He held his hands primly in front of him, sanctimony evident in his posture. He was also standing on a narrow stone pillar that Sienna swore wasn’t there earlier, twelve feet off the ground.

“You will refer to me as ‘Mr. Rove,’ although I would prefer a simple Sir from your kind.”

He took a step out into open air, as if falling wasn’t an option. It wasn’t. Another second pillar of stone, eleven feet high erupted from the dirt to meet his foot. A third came, ten feet high, then a fourth. The fifth one lowered him down to the ground with a single flick of his fingers.

“For the sake of my time and your ignorance… geo-thermals,” Mr. Rove said.