Fiction: Afterlife Volume 3 (Chapter 20)

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Afterlife is a sci fi/western action serial published every other week. Join us in a post-apocalyptic journey through a future where life has become little more than a struggle for survival. However, where there’s life, there’s always hope.

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Read the previous chapter here:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 19

Where:

Paul attends a Denver town hall meeting with Aiyana.
Razor and Jenny grow closer.
Della has lunch with Matt Lund, his former fling.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

Check out Afterlife on Goodreads and don’t forget to rate it.

 

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 20

Ava was dying.  There was no question as she moaned, her eyes barely open as the hover truck zoomed through the desert with Wild Joe Rodeo at the wheel.  Her left side was covered with blood as was her seat.  Her face was sweating and she was delirious.  Though the wound hadn’t appeared critical, she’d lost a lot of blood, and Ayman wondered if the laser may have punctured her intestine or burnt through her spleen or kidney or something.  Whatever the case, she wasn’t looking good, and they needed to get to Rose City as soon as possible.  Ayman looked in the rearview mirror and noticed the seven sand bikes were still following them.  There appeared to be more in the distance, too.  “I don’t think we’re gonna make it,” Joe said.

“What do you mean?” Ayman asked.

“We’re almost out of fuel.  We’re runnin’ on fumes and there’s still no sign of Rose City.  And who knows how much fuel the others have?”  On cue, the engine started sputtering and the hover truck slid through the sand on the side of a dune and came to a stop.  The other three trucks circled around and parked nearby, forming a square for cover.

“Come on,” Ayman said as he grabbed Ava by the side, opened the door, and tried to drag her out of the truck.  “We have to get her into one of the other trucks.”  Ava’s blood was getting all over Ayman but he didn’t care.  He just wanted to save her.  He wanted to get her to a doctor.  He’d made a connection with her and didn’t want to watch her die.  Besides, she’d been injured trying to help him. She was muttering something indiscernible.  Ayman couldn’t tell if it was English or Farsi.  The Holy Warriors surrounded the hover trucks from the tops of the nearby dunes.  Joe got out of the truck, staying close and ducking for cover as he ran around to the passenger side to help Ayman with Ava.  Several lasers blasted the side of the hover truck.  One hit the front windshield not far from Ayman’s head.  “Allah please get us out of this,” Ayman said as he and Joe lowered Ava down into the sand.  “Somehow, some way.”  Ayman and Joe each took a side and they carried Ava to where the others were taking cover inside the square of trucks.  The Chief put a blanket down for her and they laid her down.

“She’s not doing well,” Joe said.  “We need to get her on one of the other trucks.  Which one has the most room?”

“We’re running on empty,” Billy said.

“So are we,” Belle said.  “There’s no way we’ll make it to Rose City.”

Mary nodded.  “Same situation here.”

“We may have to just make a stand here,” Billy said with a frown.

“There’s no way we’ll win,” Ayman said.  “I saw more coming in the distance.  And they’ll have reinforcements.  If they bring the heavy artillery, we’re doomed.  And they can just wait it out until the artillery gets here.”

“Then it may have to be a last stand,” Joe said.  “But I’ll take most of them with me.  Wild Joe Rodeo won’t go down without a fight.”

Ayman nodded.  “That would be better than letting them capture you.  I know what they do to prisoners.  But if I go to them, they may take it easier on the rest of you.  You might even be able to leave.”

“And go where?” Joe asked.  “We’re in the middle of the desert and we don’t have any fuel.”

Ayman looked at the faces of his companions.  Big Bob and Jimmy Thumb were silent, as was the Chief, but their faces showed the same exasperation that was in everyone else’s voices.  Ayman knew the reality.  This would likely be the end for all of them.  He looked down at Ava, who was squirming on the blanket, her hand over her bleeding side.  Her eyes were closed as she continued muttering incoherently.  Ayman longed to have one more conversation with her.  He longed to see her eyes open at least one more time.  The Holy Warriors would be coming soon, though.  They’d find a way to sneak down the dunes eventually, or they’d just wait for the heavy guns, like Ayman had said.  And they’d bring death with them.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laser blasts.  There was a humming sound.  He looked up at the dunes to see red lasers flying into the sky.  Several bodies fell down the side of the dune.  From the look of them, the bodies were all Holy Warriors of Middle Eastern descent.  Several new figures appeared on the dunes.  There were likely twenty soldiers, half dressed in desert camouflage, the other half dressed in black.  “State your names and business,” one of the soldiers said as they pointed laser rifles down at the hover trucks.  Two of the soldiers had RLR’s.

“I’m Wild Joe Rodeo!” Joe shouted.  “These are the members of our show!”

“Where are you heading?” the man shouted.

“Rose City!” Joe replied.

“We’re with the Southwest Resistance,” the man shouted.  “You’re only a few miles away from Rose City.  We’ll escort you there.  We could use some entertainment.  I’m a big fan of yours, sir.”

Joe looked at Ayman and smiled.  “The cavalry has arrived.”

<>

As Jim Brantley stepped into Drummond’s library, he noticed two bodies in the lobby.  There was a man who’d been cut in half and a woman with a laser blast in her forehead.  Jim quickly turned away and saw a robot on four wheels turning a key to open a file drawer.  The walls were covered with drawers and there were several computer screens.  The robot’s head turned and the camera that served as an eye focused on Jim.  The two metal arms pulled away from the file drawer.  Jim wondered how a library in such a small town could afford such technology.  It wasn’t an android, but still, robots could be very expensive.  Some rich person in Drummond must have really liked reading.  “Can I help you?” the robot asked in a monotone synthetic voice.

“Nope,” Jim said as he walked past, heading towards the doorway at the end of the lobby.  “I’m just looking for someone.”

“Well if you need help,” the robot said, “let me know.”  The robot went into some programmed speech as Jim walked through the doorway and entered the main room of the library, where there were rows of books and computer screens.  There were also virtual reality projectors dispersed throughout, along with headpieces and visors hanging in various spots.  Jim stepped over a dead teenager with a severed head as he made his way to the back, where Warrick was sitting in a chair with a book on his lap.  He looked even more insane than usual, still missing a shirt, with electric lights flashing all around him.  There were also now some wires hanging out of his head.  Only one red eye was left, and it stared at Jim as he approached.

“I think it’s time for us to leave Drummond,” Jim said.

“Why do you say that?” Warrick asked.  “This may be the safest place for us right now.  Besides, it’s a nice family town.  Just the place I’ve always wanted to settle down.”

Jim stopped walking and cleared his throat.  “There have been some armed people moving into town lately.  They may have been armed by the resistance.”

“Who in town are you talking to?” Warrick asked.  “How are you finding these things out?”  Jim sensed that Warrick was fishing out of paranoia and it made him uneasy.

“My two eyes,” Jim said.

Warrick chuckled.  “I admire your sense of humor, Jim.  One more reason I like you.”  Several bolts of electricity streaked across Warrick’s face.  His red eye flickered, but eventually stayed on.

Jim swallowed.  “I don’t know if it’s safe here.  I mean, we won’t be able to hold them off forever.  Not both the IAO and the resistance.  And who knows who else is gonna show up here.”

Warrick nodded.  “Well I’m going to stay.  You have my permission to leave if that’s what you want to do.”

Jim wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.  He was worried that if he left Warrick on bad terms, he’d get shot in the back.  Still, he was starting to realize that it was time to cut ties somehow.  He had to find the right opportunity.  “I don’t want to do that.”

“Really?” Warrick asked.  “Well you’ve always been a loyal friend, Jim.  I’ll give you that.”  He put his hand on his head.  “The headaches are getting worse.  It’s hard for me to read.  Or to concentrate on anything.  I’m starting to forget things I said moments before.”  The red light of his eye went out for a split second and back on.

“Why do you want to stay here?” Jim asked.

“I’m searching for purpose,” Warrick said.  “What better place to do that than in the library?  It’s full of books written by others who were also searching for purpose.”  He paused and leaned forward.  “What is it you want, Jim?”

Jim squinted at him.  “Excuse me?”

“What do you want out of life?”

Jim cleared his throat.  “I mean, it’s changed over the years.  But now, I think I just want an end to the killing.  I just want some peace.”  He paused.  “Don’t you think we’d be safer someplace else?  Is there really any reason to stay here?  I mean, this Michelle Hemingway girl…   I don’t think she’s coming.  She’d have been here by now.  She’s probably been killed or captured.  And if the IAO captured her, they probably executed her a long time ago.  I mean, she’s a rich girl, right?  You know what these guys do to rich people.  Anyway, we could forget about her and find a peaceful town where you can be sheriff and I can be your deputy.  No more killing.  Just peace and quiet.”

Warrick glared at him with his one remaining red eye.  “Just before the end of the old world, there was an undertaker who wanted to find a new career.  His dream was to reopen an old coffee shop which had closed down, but he didn’t have much money saved up.  He was tired of death, though, so he went to see a fortune teller.  He said to the fortune teller, ‘Please tell me if my business will improve so I can save enough money to stop being an undertaker and buy the old coffee shop.’  The fortune teller looked into her crystal ball and said ‘Business will be booming two days from now.’  So the undertaker went home happy.  Two days later, nuclear explosions destroyed the world and the town he lived in.  He’d hid in a shelter in his basement, but he was the only survivor, and the coffee shop he’d wanted had been blown to smithereens.  There were bodies, everywhere, though.  Plenty of work for an undertaker.  So the moral of the story is, be careful what you wish for.”

Jim nodded.  “Yeah.”  He glanced down at the book on Warrick’s lap.  It was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? By Phillip K. Dick.

“It’s a good book,” Warrick said.  “Some people think it’s about androids, but it’s really about what it means to be human.”

“Sounds interesting,” Jim said.

“You should read it some time,” Warrick said.  “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it when I’m done reading it.”

“Sure,” Jim said.  Something about Warrick seemed off to him.  Even more so than usual.

“You know,” Warrick said, “I spent so much of my life going after Nat Bigum, that there’s an emptiness now.  I think I’ve talked about this with you before, but like I said, my memory’s shot.”

Jim nodded.  “You have talked about this before.”

“Anyway, like I said, there’s an emptiness.  And now with it appearing that Michelle Hemingway’s not coming, and who knows what’s happened to Abigail Song…  I’m having trouble finding a purpose.  I’ve come to the realization that humans are destructive creatures.  Even those who have never killed another human.  Humans consume animals.  Even the ones who don’t do that consume plants.  They destroy living things in order to stay alive themselves.  They live off the resources of the land until they’ve destroyed it completely.  It was inevitable that the old world would end.  All humans do is consume and destroy.  They tried a comeback, but this world is going to end, also.  Perhaps the time for machines has come.  Maybe humans should give the world to androids and other robots and computers and let them take care of it.  They don’t consume the way humans do.  Sure, they need energy, but there are sustainable forms of energy.  Humans, by definition are unsustainable.  Humans exist to destroy and be destroyed.”

“What are you saying?” Jim asked as he watched electricity bolt across Warrick’s face.

“Maybe it’s time for technology to take over,” Warrick said.  “Maybe it’s time for humanity to become extinct.”

“But you’re talking about us,” Jim said.

Warrick nodded.  “Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

Jim wasn’t sure what to say.  “I don’t know.”

“I want you to go,” Warrick said.  “Leave.  Find that quiet, peaceful place you want.  But before you go, I want you to kill me.”

Jim’s jaw dropped.  “What?”

“Kill me,” Warrick said.  “I’m not what I used to be.  I’m just a shell.  And I can’t stand the pain any longer.  Just kill me.  Put me out of my misery.”

Jim put his hand over the laser pistol at his side.  “I won’t kill you.”

“Why not?” Warrick asked.  “It’s easy.  Draw your laser pistol, point it at my head, and pull the trigger.  I won’t stop you.  I want you to do it.”

Jim swallowed.  “I can’t do that, Warrick.  You’ll be okay.  We’ll find you a new cyberneticist.”

“I don’t think a cyberneticist is going to help me this time.”

Jim frowned.  “I’m sorry, Warrick.  I just can’t do that.”

“Then go,” Warrick said.  The red light of his eye shut off and the cyborg slumped forward.  The electric bolts were gone.  Warrick was as still as a piece of furniture.

Jim approached him slowly.  “Warrick.”  He took a few more steps.  “Warrick.”  He stopped in front of the mostly metallic figure.  “Warrick!” he shouted at the skull-like face.  He pulled up one of Warrick’s metallic arms and let it flop back down, noticing how heavy it was.  He poked Warrick’s face with his finger.  He poked Warrick’s red, shut-off eye.  “Warrick.  Are you there?  Are you alive?”  There was no response.  Jim stood for a minute or two, staring at the lifeless cyborg.  He’d never felt more alone.  As he stood there, a freedom came over him.  It was a freedom he hadn’t felt in a long time.  He was his own man.  He could do whatever he wanted.

He turned and started walking through the library when he heard a sound behind him.  He turned to see Warrick standing in front of the chair.  The book was on the floor and the cyborg’s left eye had come back on.  Electric bolts were flashing all over its face and body.  “Warrick,” Jim said with a smile.  “I thought you were dead.”  Warrick started walking towards him.  “Warrick?” Jim said.  The cyborg didn’t respond.  It was staring at him with its one eye, walking past the shelves towards Jim.  Jim drew his laser pistol, but before he could fire, Warrick had drawn his own and fired first.  The blast hit Jim’s hand and he dropped his gun.  He turned and started running, when he felt something stab into his back.  Pain shot through his body and he screamed as he looked down to see a blade protruding from his bleeding stomach.  The blade withdrew and Jim fell to the floor.  He turned to see Warrick standing above him.  “Warrick,” he muttered.  The cyborg was silent.  The electric bolts were constant now.  It pointed its laser pistol at Jim’s face and fired.

<>

It wasn’t called Garrison Square anymore.  Everyone just referred to it as “the Square.”  And the amphitheater wasn’t called the Brevington Memorial Amphitheater any longer.  It was just “the Amphitheater.”  The International Anarchy Organization was taking away the names of everything in New Atlantis, or at least that was how it seemed to Carson Tremaine.  The rumor was that if an IAO agent heard you use one of the old names, they’d kill you on the spot.  That’s what Carson was thinking about as he sat with his parents in the amphitheater grandstand, watching as the IAO men in black suits readied the stage for the day’s public executions.  Carson and his family were just a few rows back from the marble stage.  In any other situation, those would be great seats, but Carson didn’t want to be up close.  He’d been able to hide his eyes at previous executions, but there wouldn’t be any hiding this time.  If the IAO men caught you looking away or shielding your eyes, they’d often beat you.  Carson was only thirteen, but he’d heard they beat up little kids, so he wasn’t about to take any chances.  “It’s all right,” said his father, who was sitting next to him.  “It’ll be over quickly.”  There was a sense of fear and dread in the crowd.  It was the same feeling that had fallen over the city ever since the IAO had taken over, but here it seemed to be stronger.

Carson thought back to the first execution he’d seen.  It had been a famous model or actress.  He couldn’t remember her name.  Michelle Hemingway rang a bell for some reason.  Her name had been in the news a lot before the IAO took over.  No, she was the one who’d defected to the resistance.  It was Evelyn McQueen.  That was her.  She’d been a beautiful model, but after they executed her, he watched as the headsman held up her head.  They’d taken her eyes a few days before, so it was eyeless.  That eyeless face haunted Carson’s dreams.  The IAO claimed she’d been guilty of theft, prostitution, and murder.  Theft because she hoarded wealth that could have bought food to help starving children.  Prostitution because she’d been a model and they claimed she used her body to make money.  Murder because many of the starving children who could have used her wealth to eat ended up dying.  In reality, she’d been a decent person who’d given a lot of her wealth to charity.  But the IAO were monsters.  And now Evelyn McQueen’s eyeless face haunted Carson’s dreams.

Three men walked onto the stage and headed towards the faux wood podium in the front.  One of the men was huge.  He was as big as any brawl ball player Carson had ever seen.  Probably bigger.  He had a black goatee, was wearing black sunglasses, and was dressed in a black suit and tie.  The next man was tall and had curly blonde hair.  He was wearing a fur coat and had an arrogant grin on his face.  The last man was the one who walked up to the podium.  He was a tall Hispanic man who was wearing a leather vest and a gray cowboy hat.  He smiled maniacally out at the crowd.  “Welcome to the execution,” he said.  “Now it’s time for all of you to die.”  He pulled a laser rifle off his back and pointed it out at the crowd.  People ducked and someone screamed.  Carson didn’t know what to do.  He felt his heart sink.  The three IAO men near the podium were all laughing.  “Just kidding,” the Hispanic man said with a chuckle as he strapped his weapon over his back once again.  “You all are too antsy.  It’s so easy to scare you.  Anyway, I’m Long John, in case you didn’t know.  You can think of me as the execution coordinator here in New Atlantis.  I’m here with the Duke of Weston and our newest associate, Little Nicky.  And boy, do we have a treat for you today.”  He turned his head so he could see backstage.  “Look who it is.”

Two men in leather led a whimpering man in a gray jumpsuit out towards the front of the stage.  He was thin and frail, with short gray hair, and there were metal staples going down the front of his neck.  He was opening his mouth, but no sounds were coming out.  At first, Carson didn’t recognize the man.  “It’s our old friend,” Long John said with a grin, “Herman Rennock.”  People started booing and shouting.  Some people threw rotten fruit and vegetables, pelting his head and face.  Carson thought he saw Rennock mouthing the words “I’m sorry” as he looked out at the crowd.  Rennock looked pitiful, like every word, every piece of garbage thrown at him, was eating away a little piece of what was left of him.  “So what do you all want for this scum?” Long John asked.  “He’s guilty of…  Well, you all know what he’s guilty of.”

“Take his head!” someone shouted.

“Disembowelment!” someone else shouted.

“Blood eagle!” another person shouted.  “Blood eagle!”  The chants spread throughout the grandstand.  Carson’s father joined in the chant.  Finally, Carson joined them out of fear of what the IAO might do if they noticed him not chanting.

“Blood eagle it is!” Long John shouted as the people cheered.  Herman Rennock looked horrified as two men with hammers positioned his hands on two high metal posts near the front of the stage.  They were just a few feet away from the closest onlookers.  As they positioned nails over his hands and prepared to hammer, Long John chuckled.  “It really stinks up here.  Smells like crap and piss.”  He glanced at Rennock.  “I wonder why.”  Rennock was crying now, still mouthing the words “I’m sorry” as the two men hammered his hands into the posts.  When they were done, they tore the top of the jumpsuit off of him, leaving only pants.  Rennock’s bruised body hung between the two posts from outstretched, bony arms as two men in black stood behind him.  One had an axe and the other had a knife.

The man with the axe smiled out at the crowd.  “When I’m done,” he shouted, “any of you with knives can come up and slice off pieces of him as souvenirs.”  Risking punishment, Carson looked away before the man with the knife started cutting.  A collective gasp ran throughout the crowd.  Carson couldn’t take any more.  He didn’t care if the IAO men beat him.  The crowd cheered as dozens of loud cracking sounds filled the amphitheater.  Even though he was turned away, Carson could see the blood flying out towards the faces of the people in the front rows.

“Look at that,” Long John shouted as the crowd cheered.  “It’s like he has wings.  Bloody red wings to take him to hell.”

 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvgZkm1xWPE]

 

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Continue on to the next chapter:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 21
Where:
The IAO leadership meet to discuss the resistance.
Ayman and his companions arrive in Rose City.
Abby is forced to leave Green Horizons.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

Check out Afterlife on Goodreads and don’t forget to rate it.

Check out Michael Monroe’s page on Amazon to find other stuff he’s written.
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