Broken Mirror: Apophis 2029 Page 3

  There were more than a few isolated cases where gangs of survivors assembled hunting raids to clear out the dangerous weepers who had escaped their isolation camps. Ethically, in my point of view the infected were still people, and it still made me sick to my stomach whenever I saw them shot in cold blood and the callous execution of the ones that were clearly unthreatening and helpless. Some people accepted it as a form of mercy, but it was outright murder in most cases, especially when they put down the children. As far-gone as they were, there were still those who looked scared in that final moment before the end; ad if it was some vile act of betrayal by their own species. After the government staff had abandoned the clinics, hospitals and quarantine camps, everyone began to assume there was no actual cure nor ever would be.

  Truthfully, it is that loss of hope that weighs so heavily on your shoulders and not knowing what tomorrow will bring. All I knew at this moment was that I didn't want to die like this; cold and wet in the middle of nowhere. Understandably, for most people the thought of catching the disease was even worse than death; cursed to be left alone to survive like a crazed animal or waste away as your mind turned to mush and losing all sense of who you were.

  The suicide rate across the globe has skyrocketed and continued to climb after the outbreak. In many areas there were survivor camps run by religious groups who preached empty hopes and offered salvation. In many instances, these fanatics were more dangerous themselves than the disease itself. I even heard strange tales of newcomers in their midst who would argue with them why any God of theirs would allow this blight to befall them, only to end up murdered in their sleep for their blasphemy.

  Personally, I never fell for all that fraudulent steaming pile of crap they fed to the mindless masses. Religion was for the weak who desired to blame their actions on anyone or anything but themselves; or to use as a personal excuse to harm another human being under the guise of some holy cause as if to justify their conduct. People killing one another over make-believe was a type of insanity I didn't want anything to do with.

  * * *

  In an adjacent building far above, a dark figure was watching from an open balcony, a hooded image that clung to the shadows, only outlined by the brief streak of lightning that crackled through the dark skies. He watched the drama unfold below as the lone survivor was scrambling through the ruins of the office building towards a fenced arena with a pair of weepers in close pursuit. From his position he could see the creatures were cornering their prey who was fleeing towards a dead end. From the forth floor of the building that loomed above, a crack of gunfire resounded and the flash of an aiming laser glistened through the heavy rain, taking down a third weeper that had emerged from the dividing tree line.

  * * *

  Hearing the shot, I was startled and lost my footing; painfully twisting my ankle as I stumbled and cut my hand upon the broken concrete. Suddenly the bright flare of a laser sparkled in the puddle at my feet and I ducked for cover behind a pile of rubble. I tried to peek through the cracks, aware that there was someone in the main building above putting me in their sights. I quickly realized that the sniper had thought either I was one of the diseased or that I was an easy target for pilfering my supplies. Stuck out in here the open, I had no place to go.

  Doubling back to the forest meant that I would have to take my chances with dodging the group of weepers on my tail, and after nearly a full hour of running, I had no more energy to play cat and mouse with them. My prospects of making it this close to dusk were close to zero. A few yards ahead there was a large fenced area that opened up beyond. Next to the gate I could tell there was a small opening that had been jarred loose, inviting me a way in. From there I could find shelter in the ground floor of the building where I had spotted a large pair of double doors moments before.

  Jumping out from behind the broken wall, I sprinted for the hole in the fence; strafing as I went to avoid the sniper, but a shot rang out as a flash of green light traced the ground in front of me. The bullet ricocheted off the cement just a few feet from my head, sending stinging shards of stone into my face. Whomever it was on the trigger had been waiting patiently for me to show myself. In a panic, I crawled back under cover from the gunfire just as I heard the familiar growl of the weeper that had followed me onto the upper wall. As a distraction, I leapt out and faked a jump out towards the fence again, and pounced back the opposite direction towards the corner of the building where I saw a wide-open balcony. Another shot cracked the air as I made my way to the edge of the wall, my twisted foot throbbing in pain.

  Almost losing my balance, I came upon a sudden drop off. With too much momentum pulling me along, I leapt for the top of a loading truck that sat with its rear up towards the wall. Hearing a metallic thump behind me, I turned to see the weeper had also scrambling its way on top of the roof of the truck behind me, struggling in its fevered attempt to gain its footing on the slick steel. A quick glance told me that I had grossly misjudged the height of the balcony. It was much farther way from the edge of the vehicles shell than I had first hoped.

  At this point, I realized I didn't have a choice. If the creature behind me even got close enough to touch me, the game was over. I almost faltered as the stab of pain shot up my calf when I took a running leap for the balcony, my numb hands grasping for the exposed rail. It was just too slippery, and time seemed to slow as I dug my nails into the metal, it was just too wet and the pack I had on was too heavy. I gasped for air as the rain pelted my face in the fleeting moment when my grip finally slipped away, knowing I likely would not survive the fall to the hard pavement below.

  As gravity was pulling on every ounce of my being, my attention from the dark void looming below was turned back up towards the sheets of pouring rain that pelted my face as streaks of lightning lit up the cloudy sky. A strong arm had grabbed mine; I went dizzy, fearing my worst nightmare had come true and that I had finally been caught by a weeper. To my surprise, I could still hear the infected growling in anger behind me, its boney hands swooping in the air just a few feet shy of my rear. A thick gloved hand pulled me up to the edge of the balcony from where I hung in limbo, coming face to face with someone wrapped in a heavy mask and goggles holding a sniper rifle as they leveled it over my shoulder.

  "Don't look at it, hold still!" a man's voice ordered.

  I turned my head into the railing as instructed as the kick of the rifle jabbed into my collarbone. Holding me up with his left hand on the edge of the rail, he had fired with his right, using my shoulder as a muzzle rest to get a proper aim. Seeing its prey was about to escape, the infected ghoul had made a leap for my flailing legs; a ploy that would have worked if not for the force of the rifle blast that split its head wide open, sending its lifeless body skidding backward across the top of the truck. It's blood spraying upon my back and across the balcony.

  "Fucking filthy creatures," I heard the figure mutter to himself, "Keep your hands where they are, don't touch the blood!" he warned, "I will pull you up." the man stated as he laid down his rifle and took my other hand to help me clear the rails edge. In a daze, I stood there a brief moment, a bit stunned that I was still alive. The shock of it wouldn't stop there.

  "Don't move, you're going to need to strip." he demanded as he secured his rifle and stood back while wiping some bloody muck from his goggles with a rag he threw to the ground and proceeded to do the same with the scarf that had covered his face.

  "What?" I merely stuttered innocently, still startled by the turn of events; slowly coming to realize that I had been saved, only to be promptly robbed of my possessions and gear.

  As his scarf fell away it revealed the man had a slight beard, several days unshaven, but left his goggles on. Leveling his rifle at me, he clicked off the laser sight with one hand, but kept his finger squarely on the trigger.

  "It's not what you think," he stated, though with a slightly apologetic tone, "there is contaminated blood on your pack and outer clothing; I need you to drop everything right her
e, right now," he ordered gruffly once again, "...you can keep your undergarments on." he added.

  That would have been all fine and dandy ...if I actually wore underwear. As I undressed, he finally lifted up his goggles; and I could see by the dumbfounded expression that washed across his face that he was not expecting to find a girl underneath all the layers of gear and boyish exterior. I took care not to use my cut hand, which made it more of a struggle than an embarrassment as I stood there in nothing more than a soiled tank top and socks. Taking off my hat, my long blonde hair unfurled down to my waist. He just stood there gawking at me for an awkward moment.

  "Is this good enough?" I finally asked as I rolled my eyes, "And, I should thank you ...I guess," I offered, still assuming he was the one who had been taking pop shots at me while I was down in the courtyard, but he had still saved me from breaking my neck, "...If you don't mind, I'm hurt and tired, and it's really fucking cold out here!"

  Presuming it was the freezing stutter of my lips that got his attention back on the situation at hand. He threw down his gloves in the pile next to mine as he checked himself over a second time for any splatter of blood from the dead Weeper. Satisfied, he took one last scan of the open courtyard below as lighting crackled angrily through the sheets of heavy rain, then escorted me inside the dark building.

  "Try to watch where you step," he cautioned with a measure of concern, noting I was down to wearing mismatched socks, and even those were filled with holes, no less, "there's broken glass around here."

  I was still shivering as we made it down the long turn of hallways, it appeared this had once been an industrial office building at one time; its adjacent sister structure had collapsed sometime in the recent past. It was dark in here and waning light from sunset had fallen fast due to the raging storm, but a welcoming warm yellow light flickered at the end of the corridor where we were heading. Upon hearing hushed voices trickling down the hall, my host ran ahead and thankfully came back with a thick blanket to cover me up just as we turned the doorway into the startled gaze of several shocked faces.

  All eyes in the room turned on me. Nearest the door was a black man with muscled arms and an interesting array of dreadlocks nestled upon his head. His smile was followed by a girl with dark brown skin and long raven black hair. Across from her a middle-aged red headed male with a buzz cut who was whittling away at something in his hand with a pocketknife. Behind him was an older man with a receding hairline of ashen gray; within his sullen eyes one could see many years of hardship that had shaped his view of the world. To the far right, just out of the light of the miniature gas stove sitting in the middle of the room; slept a young boy, curled up on a cot, fast asleep.

  "Well, look at what the cat dragged in! Thought I heard some shots, was that you Thorn?" the man with the dreads inquired.

  "Hmm, not a bad catch at that," the dark skinned girl turned to comment as the man sitting in front of the stove grinned in approval at her perverse sense of humor.

  "She was cornered outside, there was a pack of weepers down in the yard," Thorn mentioned as he stepped into the room behind me. Upon this news, the older man stood up, clearly concerned at this report.

  "How many are you talking about; and how did you get her inside?" he pried, realizing they had did not come from the direction of ground floor stairwell, all of which had been thoroughly blockaded. Thorn stumbled to his cot and grabbed a clean scarf from atop the blanket while he gestured for me to follow as he answered his companions.

  "Just a few strays I think; didn't see any more," he remarked, "everyone, this is..." he paused, realizing that in his lapse of seeing me naked outside on the balcony, that he had neglected to introduce himself or even ask my name, "what's your name?" he tried to whisper towards me, while trying not to seem too obvious about it to the others.

  "uh, Caitlin," I answered through shivering teeth.

  "Caity," he blurted back to the group, trying to seem nonchalant as if he had known that all along, while he in turn introduced me to rabble that were his friends, so I assumed, "Cait, this is Haiti," as he proceeded without further formalities, motioning to the black man who gave a wry smirk with a flash of his white teeth, "and Serena," turning to the raven-haired girl who couldn't resist the earlier sexist remark.

  "Can I call her Cat?" Serena added with a hungry wink towards me as Thorn brushed aside the comment.

  "Felix, is our cook," he pointed over to the red haired man sitting in front of the tiny stove, which made his title appear a little pretentious. Behind him stood the older gentleman whose posture became a little more relaxed after his initial stance, "Killroy, here, is a little older and wiser than the rest of us," Thorn added as a flavorless compliment, "I helped her in just above the dock," Thorn finally answered Roy, "and just barely at that," my host finished as he turned back to me with a faint grin on his face as he gently nudged me from behind in Serena's direction.

  "And you are ...Thorn?" I had to inquire, which I thought was a slightly odd name. He just nodded back to me as the dark skinned girl carefully took my arm to look at my cut hand. She guided me back to the shower room down the hall where they had moved a tub around to catch rainwater through the cracks in the ceiling above. I honestly didn't expect the showers themselves to work when the girl turned the knob and removed my makeshift robe, but water began to spurt, a little brown with rust at first, but cleared up after a minute.

  "Get yourself washed up, and I'll bring you some clothes, Kitten." which was her new pet name for me, I began to realize; guessing that she was either extremely friendly towards strangers, or completely bisexual.

  Stripping me of my blanket, she left me there, but not without a long sultry glance back at my bare ass. All I could do was hesitate; wondering if she was actually being serious as I felt the water splashing at my sore feet. Stepping into the stream of the shower I could feel my muscles begin to relax, at least it wasn't as unpleasant as the bitter rainfall outside. There must have been a water tank on the roof that fed these pipes that had retained its insulation.

  Over the past few years, I had become accustomed to bathing in rivers and the open rain when needed, or gotten by with a soaked rag and pans of boiled water whenever the opportunity presented itself. I had almost had forgotten how long it had been since I had a real hot shower, but this lukewarm bath was still an unexpected privilege; even more so when I found a half worn bar of soap laying on a tiled shelf which I had assumed was for community use. Turning off the knob when I was done, I stood there naked for a while and began to shiver again from the draft seeping into the room until Serena came back with something akin to a towel and an armful of clothes.

  "Take these; you're a bit taller than me, but they should fit," she offered while setting aside a small selection of outfits. I could tell at first glance that she had grossly underestimated my height proportion to the offered clothes. She was slight, and a bit more on the athletic side, and not at all unattractive; but I could tell there was an ingrained attitude about her that might rub me the wrong way if we were stuck together in the same room for too long. Even so, I wasn't entirely ungrateful.

  "Thanks," I added as an afterthought, "when can I get my own gear back?"

  "Thorn said you got a bit of weeper blood on them, so they have to dry out completely for a full day before you can touch them again." she remarked.

  Since my stuff was all in a pile out on a rain-swept balcony, I figured it would likely not be sooner than later. I tried on a few things on she had left; at least to keep me warm, and hoped she wouldn't notice when I quietly put a few rips in the shirt to stretch it out so I could breathe.

  "Is that his real name?" I inquired out of mild curiosity and to make light conversation; as it was becoming evermore obvious the girl was spending her attention watching me get dressed.

  "Hah," she chuckled back, "no, no, it's something more absurd like 'Jebediah,' or one of those funky Quaker names," she giggled, "We've been tagging along as a group for some time. One night we
found an abandoned liquor storage and we all had the insight to burn our ID's after having a few too many drinks while we crashed around a campfire," she sat down, rubbing her wrist in thought as her tone subsided into something a shade more sincere, "so we decided, 'what the hell,' no government anymore, we can be who we want to be; so we made up our own names." she sighed, and as she did so I could tell her mind was drifting a million miles away, "but my ID chip was implanted like most people. All my medical records, credit data, work history, and family..." she ended with a faint whisper.

  "Yeah, I was going to get one of those," I added to break the awkward silence, knowing better at this point to not inquire about her family since they were likely dead. It was a fresh scar I could see in her eyes now; but these were memories we were not able to shed a tear for ...at least not in public.

  Her mood returned as dramatically as it had dissipated; which was likely a self-groomed reaction. I followed her back as she took a small detour to recheck the security of the barred doors on our way back to the main room with the others. There was a new makeshift cot waiting for me along with some cooking utensils and a pack of dried noodles. Killroy saw that I was a bit confused at first as to this solitary arrangement, so he made sure I knew the rules.

  "Since you were exposed, you will have to cook your own food for the next few days or so," he informed while keeping a few steps distance, "and will ask that you don't touch anyone or their stuff during that time, Miss."

  Meaning they were keeping an eye on me, which was an understandable precaution. That is when I finally grasped that Serena's gifts of clothing were actually hand-me-downs she never expect to get back. I could see Thorn's gloves propped on sticks to dry by the propane fire, and turned to see him tucking in the little boy still asleep in the back of the room. It humbled me to realize that the score of events stretching nearly the past full decade of just how hard this must have been on the children, who would grow up only thinking this was how life was; and never to experience how the world used to be.