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

“You’ll be next.”

“Why?”

“Seriously,” said Sienna, “Punches for everyone. Now, what’s with you two?”

Sideways glances. Sienna growled.

“Not threatening,” said Sean.

“Kinda cute, actually,” added Gemmel.

“Hey!” both Sean and Sienna said in unison.

“Just sayin’.”

“So…” Sean began. “Are you, like, feeling okay? How do you feel?”

“I feel fine Sean, thank you for asking.”

Sideways glances. Sienna unsnapped her holster.

“No, it’s just… have you been leeching off your Servant?”

“No!”

“No, no… I didn’t think you had. Um…”

“What, Sean?”

Sienna’s brother looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You should be.”

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 19-04-24

“So you really aren’t feeling a need to leech?” asked Sean hours later as he tended to the fire.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

The sea of corn had finally given way to a forest starting to take back a rural community. The trio had decided to camp out under the shelter of what used to be a corner trade market. They had a solid two-room enclosure at their backs, a large polyment roof high above them, and visibility to three sides. Anything remotely of use in the town had been picked clean years ago, so Gemmel saw to the jeep and weapons, Sean their fire and food. Sienna had taken point, perched on the top of a giant piece of rusting farming equipment with the TAC-50.

“No, it’s not bad. It’s good! And a bit weird,” said Sean.

“I don’t know, doesn’t the addiction hit everyone different?”

“I guess.”

“Sienna,” said Gemmel from under the hood of the Hummer. “You weren’t with the Quartet yet when… when we used to see a lot of Leechers. They were fucked up. Whiney, angry junkies.”

Sienna didn’t say anything. She had seen Leechers; she knew what they were like. She really didn’t want to discuss her imminent downward spiral.

“Thing is, well… I know I never saw a Leecher takes its first hit, but…”

“But what, Gemmel?” asked Sienna, sharp as broken sheet metal.

“I ain’t never seen a Leecher do shit like you did.”

Silence. A long pause.

“Keep fixing the fucking Hummer, Gemmel,” Sienna said finally.

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Kepler-Madison, Margaret. / 17-04-24

/DataLog Text-SUPPLEMENTAL: Doyle, Sienna A.

Things were growing more barbaric. Rove had already been sent out twice this month to cull unease among the wretches, and now a third time. It was unacceptable. It was obvious that examples were going to have to be made. Radical examples.

Margaret Kepler-Madison did not like things to be “radical.”

Things were to be civilized and proper. Controlled and precise. She would see half her citizenry wiped away if it was what it took to quell the discord. No, she would not abide these squalling demands upon her position.

Stepping over to the window, Margaret looked down on her kingdom and wrinkled her nose. If these… peasants… wanted her protection, they were going to have to accept their places. Know their roles. She idly wondered if those horrid Quinn Sisters in the ruins of Los Angeles suffered from the same nonsense. She knew Gibbons did in the former United Kingdom.

The treaty among the Mancers was tenuous, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. Everyone knew Li Ehr ranted in the frozen wastelands of Russia, but his delusions weren’t to be taken seriously. Carter, hidden away on New R’lyeh was far bigger a menace. She had not been from the best breeding, gone to the most acclaimed schools, risen above her mediocre colleagues and survived a bout of leeching just to be undone by some liberal fool on a fake island. She was the intellect behind the resurgence of Raleigh, Rove her muscle, and Dr. Harvey… well, he was whatever he was. Oh, and dirty little Lopez, her toy.

Speaking of, there was the elevator.

“Madam President,” said Dr. Harvey as he came in, “I believe you would wish to see this.”

He fidgeted with his Servant until the hard-light schematic appeared between them. It showed a map of the former state of Ohio with a blinking icon, an algorithm scrawl along the bottom, and an intuitive AI program running diagnostics on the incoming data along the side panel. Through the dull yellowish-green glow, he saw Margaret Kepler-Madison frown.

“What are you showing me, doctor?”

“Among her other, er… duties… Lopez scans for predetermined signature shifts in the T-Net. As you are well aware, we must stay, um, vigilant to any outside Mancer threat that might present itself. So…”

“So Lopez found a new Mancer?”

“No, madam,” replied Dr. Harvey. “Not yet. With her, er, alterations, she directly tapped into the zettahertz frequencies that saturate the atmosphere. She can predict which Leechers will become Mancers. Usually.”

“Bloody hell, Dr. Harvey! Do we have a new Mancer to send Rove after or not?”

“President Kepler-Madison, I don’t know what we have.”

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 22-04-24

“Alright, we need to make a decision.”

The Hummer had been parked for over twenty minutes, Gemmel’s thick forearm resting causally across the steering wheel. Sean and Sienna both glanced back to the map suspended in the air six inches above the Servant. Three choices. All equally stupid. Above them, the sun was out high and bright, but the wind remained far too chilly. Ominous? Probably.

“West is Nashville, east is Raleigh. We continue south and come to Atlanta. All pretty much equidistant at this point,” mumbled Sean.

“And what’s the info stream telling us again?” asked Sienna.

“Nashville seems to have a ton of Lechers, Atlanta’s a ghost town — probably Feeder central — and there’s a major firewall around Raleigh.”

“Which we’ve deduced means Mancers.”

“Yep.”

“Adorable,” Sienna cracked.

“Yep.”

She sighed. “Well personally, I think Atlanta’s right out.”

“Agreed” grumbled Gemmel.

Five days since she had been exiled from Sigma-8. Five days since she had leeched. Five days and not once had she even had the inclination to do it again.

“I vote Nashville,” Sienna said suddenly.

“Why?” asked her brother, as he twisted in his seat to face her.

“Because,” she said, “I want to know why I’m different. If I’m different.”

While Sean’s face was a mixture of emotions, Gemmel just grunted.

“Works for me,” he said as he threw the hummer into gear.

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Kepler-Madison, Margaret. / 22-04-24

/DataLog Text-SUPPLEMENTAL: Doyle, Sienna A.

“Mr. Rove.”

“Yes, Madam President?”

“Dr. Harvey has informed me the unconfirmed variable is heading west. You have successfully finished with the purge of the rebellious element in the city, correct?”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“Excellent. You may have to intercept them in Nashville. I can’t have some unknown entity or even fledgling Mancer setting up a base of operation so close to my city. I’ll keep you apprised.”

“Very good, Madam President.”

DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 24-04-24

“Wow, and I thought Sigma-8 was a shithole,” grumbled Gemmel.

The outskirts of Nashville looked like they had been hit with a flood, tornado and earthquake all on the same day. Random fires raged in isolated pockets everywhere and there wasn’t a single building in site that remained whole. Streets were barely passable due to all the debris that littered the landscape, everything from broken walls of brick and bent steel girders to mangled bicycles and bizarre pyramids of decaying shoes. Graffiti covered large expanses of any available surface, some it even carved in. Here and there, the trio caught sight of animal motion, some possibly human, but none of it seemed furtive or suspicious.