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

I parried as best I could but it appeared to be a losing battle. The blood was flowing warmly down my leg, the wound closing even as I continued the fight. I guessed the serum really did work. I had to wonder how long we could go on like this, each with such strength and healing abilities. Thyssen backed me up against one of the coolers and lunged. I’m not quite certain how I did it, but I sidestepped to the right so fast that his blade went in to the glass door behind me rather than my chest. The glass crashed to the floor and I ran in the opposite direction, moving away from Thyssen’s deadly advances.

I kept shuffling scenarios through my mind and, as he came at me with final purpose, I felt the seeds of a ridiculous plan begin to germinate. I could tell that Thyssen had tired of toying with me and was ready to end the play. He gained momentum and I decided it was now or never.

Just as Thyssen lunged, I leaped up onto the desk. He swiped at my legs, but I had already propelled myself into the air. I twisted as I soared over him, reaching out and grasping his head in my hands as hard as I could, my saber flying from me in my last, futile attempt to survive this confrontation. Using my body’s momentum and gravity’s undeniable force, I ripped his head to one side as my feet hit the ground, pulling him backward over my shoulder.

I felt and heard the snap as his weight collapsed on top of me. That part I had not planned. I pushed him off of me and stood, looking down at his neck, all twisted. His head lay at an unnatural angle, but the bastard still smiled up at me.

“I will heal,” he said, his voice crackling and gurgling. “You cannot kill me.

I stared at him in disgust and shock. This must have been why everyone here was so fucking scared of this guy. He had taken enough of the serum to not only reverse his aging process, but to elevate his healing factors to the point where death was all but out of reach.

“I think it’s about time we see how far the human race can get without your interference, you prick,” I said. I walked to his desk and recovered his lab coat. I folded it several times over and then moved to the refrigerators. I picked up the largest piece of broken glass I could find, over a foot wide, jagged and sharp. Moving toward the man on the floor, I saw his eyes widen in understanding.

“No,” he spat.

“Yes,” I replied, bringing the glass down into his neck with all the force I could muster. It was not quite enough and it took a couple of minutes of crude butchery to hack through his neck and finish the job. Throwing the bloodied glass aside, I sat back on the floor and saw that I had also cut into my own hands. The cloth of the lab coat had protected them for the most part, but I would need a little time to heal. After a few long breaths, I crawled over to the toppled table behind which Kel lay. He was struggling to sit up, his hand over the balled up compress.

“Lucky bastard,” I said, noting that the wound in his chest and shoulder already showed sign of healing. That lunatic’s serum really did work.

“You, too,” he replied. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed me.

The sky was a brilliant blue and Uncle Derrick and I were driving back from a scouting trip in Tucson. We met the boy on the road, just outside of Tucson city limits. He was on the side of the road, squatting next to a motorcycle, fiddling with the engine. Derrick pulled over, and retrieved his Uzi.

“No sense in taking chances,” he said to me. I nodded and winked at him. We walked up slowly, the young man standing still and watching us with great interest.

“You cool?” Derrick asked. The boy, who was maybe two or three years older than me, raised his hands up, placing them behind his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “You?”

He and Derrick looked at each other for long moments, and then Uncle D lowered his Uzi. “Need some help?” Derrick asked him. The boy shook his head, lowering his hands to his sides. “I’m Derrick. This is my niece, Rock.”

“Rock?” he asked, with an amused expression on his face.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Rock. You got a problem with that?” He laughed, shaking his head again.

“I’m Kel. Kel Reed. From Phoenix.” He looked at me with a peculiar expression that I didn’t understand, but it made my stomach do a little mini-dance. I could only stare back. I caught Derrick glance at me out of the corner of his eye but I played it off. He had a grin on his face when I turned to him and it disappeared at my withering look.

“So what’re you doing over here?” I asked Kel. We hadn’t seen him in over a year and it was a bit surprising to see him again so soon. With so few people in the world, I wasn’t certain if it was fate or simply inevitable.

“Same as you, I suppose.” He smiled at me and I had to turn away before he saw the heat in my eyes. That smile of his really was something.

Uncle D came around the front of the truck, double-checked the ropes on the deer he had bagged only an hour earlier. He shook Kel’s hand. We made a fire and chatted while we dressed the deer. I tried to keep from making eye contact with Kel, but I couldn’t help myself. It really irritated me that this guy had such a pull on me. I adjusted the hem of my dress and fiddled with the laces on my boots, pulling the buck knife from just inside the left one and going through the motions of sharpening it.

All the memories of Kel flooded my mind and my heart. Before I could help myself, there in the shambles of Thyssen’s office, I threw my arms around him and began crying like a little baby.

Kel held me and covered up his grunts of pain as I tightened my hug over and over, never wanting to let him go again. I could not fathom why I had suppressed my memories of him. I loved him. How could I have forgotten him? I was so ashamed. I remembered him looking at me in the house when I first encountered him on my return. He was hurt that I did not remember him, but he had not pushed it. He was always so damned kind.

“Why didn’t you help me remember?” I asked through my tears.

“I figured it would come back to you sooner or later,” he said. He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “I was really hoping for sooner.”

We laughed out loud and then I heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. We looked up towards the door and saw several folks in white coats staring at us.

“Are you both all right,” the man asked. The sincerity and relief in his voice was only matched by the shock in his eyes as he glanced over at Thyssen’s body.

“It had to be done,” I said, hoping there was no one else with a grudge in this place.

“No,” he said, “We owe you a debt of gratitude. He was a tyrant and terribly dangerous.” An older lady looked around the man’s shoulder and stared at me with the most heartfelt expression of gratitude I think I had ever seen.

“I don’t know how you did it,” she said. “But, thank you.”

“I’ll make the announcement,” the man said and left.

“We have a lab-wide intercom,” the woman stated. “Now everyone will know we are free.”

There were a total of sixteen people in the lab, mostly technicians and staff. One other scientist — Hollister was taken away to be prepared for burial — took care of bandaging Kel and I. Dr. Cameron said that my cuts would be healed in a matter of hours and Kel’s wounds would only take a day or two more.

The rest of the folks were quite kind to us. Even the three remaining soldiers — Harmon was still alive — accepted the change of regime with pleasure. Thyssen would not be missed, that was for certain.