Walter Greatshell - Apocalypso

“State your business,” he called.

“This woman just surrendered to me outside. She says the Hellions won’t touch her.”

The driver sat up. “No shit? You know, there’s a bounty on Munies. If she’s for real, you get a promotion. Where’s your incident report?”

“Right here.”

The man barely glanced at the paper. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I’m new. I’ve been assigned to the hotel.”

“You’re not one of those guys who rode in on bikes?”

“That’s right.”

“Cool. And you weren’t even anointed? No protection at all?”

“No. Can we get through this?”

“Be done in a sec. Whose side are you on, the Prophet or the Apostle?”

“The Prophet.”

“Bad idea, if you ask me. Odds are with the Living Saint, two to one. This is one horse race you want to be sure to bet on the favorite.”

“Amen to that, brother.”

The man at the gun seemed to be studying the prisoner closely.

Todd suddenly felt very stupid to think this plan could work. Sneaking a dress, a wig, and some cosmetics from the mall stores, Todd had watched as Ray tried to create a look that was feminine without being overly fussy-apocalypse chic. “That’ll work, that’ll work,” Todd kept muttering doubtfully. It was all a bad joke. At best, Ray looked like a soot-smudged female impersonator.

But it seemed to be good enough. The guard gave the okay, and Ray was allowed through the gate of the compound and released from his bonds. Todd was dismissed.

Peace, bro, he thought.

Unhooded, Ray found himself standing alongside a row of portable toilets. Straight ahead were ranks of brand-new recreational vehicles, dozens of them, with an open space in the center. In that clearing, he could see a group of women sitting at several picnic tables, playing cards.

Before Agent X, Ray had come here every Fourth of July. It was nice: Bands played and people brought beach chairs to watch fireworks over the State House. With the trailers and fences and huddled figures, it now looked more like a gulag.

The group at the table waved him over. There were about ten of them, anonymous figures with scarves wrapped around their heads. They looked like old homeless ladies, bundled in whatever the men supplied them with from Nordstrom’s, Macy’s, or Bed, Bath amp; Beyond. Heart hammering, Ray started over to them, wondering how he was going to pull this off.

From off to the side, a man’s voice called, “Ray…? Oh my God, is that you?”

“Uncle Jim!” Ray said.

He rushed to embrace the man and was held off by a warning look. In a low voice, Sandoval said, “No touchee. It’s the rules.” Looking askance at Ray, he asked, “What the hell are you wearing?”

Now it was Ray’s turn to lower his voice. “I know, I’m a girl, just go along with it. Call me Raven.”

“Raven. Right. Right, of course. What are you doing in here?”

“I came to see you. I had Todd pretend to arrest me.”

“You jackass! Don’t you realize there’s about to be a holy war? Dixon’s people are crazy!”

“Why do you think I came? I got your note-are you okay?”

“I’m all right, considering some nutball tried to stick a knife in me. I’m fine. You really shouldn’t have come in here.”

“I had to do something.”

“I know.” Sandoval spoke urgently in Ray’s ear: “Listen, if things go the way I’m hoping, we won’t have to be in here much longer anyway.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“You’ll see. Just play it cool.”

The women were fascinated and suspicious. “Who’s this, Jim?” one of them called. “You never told us you had a girlfriend on the outside. Why don’t you introduce us? And maybe fetch her a drink. She looks like she needs it.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Chandra,” Sandoval said. “She’s my… niece. Raven.”

The woman looked unconvinced. “Raven. Really. Well, it’s quite the jolly little family reunion, isn’t it? What a fortunate coincidence that you both survived the plague!”

“Not such a coincidence. Raven and I both escaped on the submarine.”

“Oh, is that submarine of yours back in town?”

“Just long enough to drop her off, apparently.”

Ray said, “That’s right. They didn’t want any women on board, so they put me ashore.”

“Well, that’s just terrible. You’re certainly welcome with us.”

“Thank you.”

“Now there’s just one thing. As you can see, dear, most of us here are old enough to be your mother… or even your grandmother. That suggests that you have an unusual resistance to Agent X for someone your age. You can bear children-possibly immune children. This places you in a very select minority. Has Jim explained to you what that means?”

“Uh, well-”

Sandoval jumped in, steering Ray away toward a table of sandwiches and drinks. “All right, all right! Get your minds out of the gutter!”

The women cackled in their wake.

“Fucking biddies.” Sandoval poured Ray a glass of lemonade. “Unbelievable.”

The sound of women’s laughter almost made Ray weep. Taking a bite of a ham sandwich, he asked, “What did you mean when you said we might not be in here much longer?”

“My people are staging a coup against Chace. If all goes as planned, by this time tomorrow, we’ll all be set free.”

Ray swallowed. “Are you sure? It looked to me like Chace has the popular vote.”

“They’ve just known him longer; he’s a celebrity. People always like a charismatic yokel, but they’ll jump ship as soon as he stumbles. Which he already has. He thinks they’re all fired up for this war on Washington, but I guarantee you that most of them will bail out at the first opportunity.”

“What if he kills you first?”

“He doesn’t dare kill me.”

“Why not?”

“Because these women won’t permit it. They remember what these nuts did to them during the Agent X panic. Female survivors were almost exterminated. They’re not about to let that happen again.”

“But if Chace has all the weapons you mentioned, what’s to stop him from just marching in here and doing whatever the hell he wants? These women are helpless prisoners.”

“Are they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look around you. Who’s out there in the city doing all the grunt work, and who’s in here on the lawn, playing cards and drinking Margaritas?”

“I… don’t get it. Are you saying these women are somehow in charge?”

Sandoval grinned.

“But how?” Ray asked.

“Because the Evians hold the Sacrament. They are the Munies-the truly immune, not just resistant to Agent X infection, but actually counterinfectious, able to neutralize Xombies. Make them human. In fact, Xombies shun them-I hear you’ve experienced this yourself at one of Chace’s little demonstrations. Well, it’s a tincture of immune blood that makes it possible. That’s how I was restored to my humanity

… and how we will eventually restore the whole human race.”

“Oh my God.”

“At present, however, that goal of Xombie salvation is limited by the small number of available donors. The immunizing effect of the blood serum is temporary, which means there has to be a reliable supply. The living come first, and obviously the supply of vaccine can only increase if the number of Immunes increases. That means having immune babies-as many as possible, preferably females.”

“Hence your harem.”

“Now don’t jump to conclusions. I haven’t touched those girls. In fact, I can’t touch them-nobody can. Not without their full consent.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll see. As a presumed Immune, you’ll be staying with them.”