Era: Apocolozoic (part 1)

There was something wet beneath my cheek. Wet, cold, and slightly scratchy. I took a deep breath, and the smell of earth clogged my nostrils. I opened my eyes and saw a thick cluster of pine trees, vertical in my line of vision. Why am I lying down…?

The right side of my head pounded furiously, and raising my hand to the aching spot, I could feel a small lump. No blood coated my fingers when I removed it.

“What the…?” I sat up. There was nothing around me, just a wide expanse of long, dark green grass framed by pine trees that extended for miles in either direction. And it was quiet, almost too quiet. No birds chirping, no wind whistling through the trees, just silence.

I wasn’t in the science room at UCLA anymore. Nor was I anywhere near the place. All I could remember was working on my grad project when a man in a dark suit and trench coat entered the room, placed his hand on my shoulder, and then everything went black.

My watch was twisted around my wrist, and when I managed to correct it, shards of glass fell onto the ground, two of the three hands joining them and making it basically impossible to tell the exact time. There goes a five-hundred-dollar Rolex.

I staggered to my feet and took a few seconds to slowly turn on the spot. My legs trembled to support my weight, and I nearly fell down again, leaning forward to place my hands on my knees.

When I finally had enough strength to look up again, I could see a small red car parked in a ditch a few hundred feet away from me.

Halfway to the car, I managed to trip over something in the grass, and I was able to yank my foot out of the way just in time before what looked like a large animal trap snapped shut. I fell back with a startled yell, and the sound echoed in the still, empty air. From then on, I was very cautious of where I put my feet, noting two other traps on the way to the small red car.

The driver’s side door was open, and both back windows were shattered. Broken glass littered the asphalt, and there was a dark stain by the front tire. Whether it was blood or oil, I couldn’t tell.

“Hello?” I looked around the car, in the backseat, and even in the half-open trunk, which was packed with camping gear. “Is anyone here?”

No answer.

I slipped into the driver’s seat. The keys were still in the ignition, but it took several tries to get the engine to start. I took off down the road, ignoring the incessant pounding in my head.

As I sped down the road, I noticed several abandoned or crashed cars on either side. One time I actually had to swerve hard as I turned a blind corner to avoid a small truck that had crashed halfway through the guardrail.

I finally found a straight, empty stretch of road six miles after the near impact, and I sped up, reaching forty miles per hour. The trees whizzed by, and I reached forward, turned the knob for the radio…

Static.

I tried the tuning knobs, but nothing came on. Weird.

BAM!

Adrenaline fired through my system as I stomped on the brake pedal, and the car screeched to a halt as a body rolled off the hood. I threw open the door and raced around to where a man lay apparently unconscious in the road, one arm at an odd angle underneath it’s body.

“Oh God, I am so sorry…!” I knelt beside the man and took his wrist, felt for a pulse. There was a flutter beneath my fingertips, and surprisingly strong for someone who just got hit by a car. “Open your eyes, come on, come–”

I was on my back within a split second, and the man was above me. One massive, thick-fingered hand wrapped around my throat, and I instinctively kicked up, landing a good blow between my victim-turned-attacker’s legs. The blow only served to enrage the man, who, as I could now judge, stood at least six-foot-three.

“Get…off…!” I struggled for breath as the man tightened his grip, and through the light blur in my vision, I could see that the man had a yellow film covering his eyes, like he was sick.

The man growled, and he bared his large, yellowing teeth as I grabbed a hold of his wrist, desperately clawing and scratching at the skin. I reached up and spread my hand on my attacker’s throat, holding him at bay – at least for a while.

Then, over the sound of my gasping breaths and the man’s frantic snarling, there was a light whistle, and then a long, sharp object pierced through the man’s skull. Hot, thick, coppery blood spattered over my face and neck, and then I could breathe again. I sucked in a hard, long breath, which was then crushed by the weight of the deceased man falling on top of me. I coughed, trying to roll over. I couldn’t move, and now I was shaking uncontrollably.

A man’s laugh rumbled through the cold air, somewhere to my far left.

“Ruby, look at this,” The male voice was deep and slightly gravelly. “He’s givin’ him the full frontal and everything.”

“Shut up, Jackson.” A girl’s voice, slightly monotone and aggressive, sounded closer to my ear, and then I could hear the sound of two heavy pairs of boots thudding closer to me. The weight on my chest was suddenly lifted, and I closed my eyes, let my head fall back.

“Th-thank you…” I stammered, and I reached up to touch my throat as I opened my eyes. Rather than seeing a smiling, friendly savior, I was met with the sight of a hooded figure pointing a bow and arrow at my head. “Jesus, wait–!”

“Did he bite you?” The girl asked.

“What?”

The girl sighed and I thought I heard the bowstring stretch just a little farther. “Did he bite you? Y’know, get his teeth into you?”

“No!” I held my hands up by my head. “No, he didn’t bite me. Why?”

The man reached down, grabbed the front of my shirt, and hauled me to my feet. He was only a bit taller than me, but had easily twice the muscle mass. “Cause then she’d have to put an arrow through your skull, ain’t that right, baby?”

The girl lowered her weapon to the ground, but I noticed with a pang of fear that the bowstring was still drawn back. “Jackson, if you call me baby one more time, this arrow is goin’ through your skull and not his.” She relaxed her bow and starts walking away.

Jackson held up a pair of metal handcuffs, and I swallowed, even more nervous. “What are those for?”

“They’re so I can tie you up.” Jackson raised a thick eyebrow and winked, and I nearly had a heart attack. “Kid, I’m jokin’. It’s for safety, Ruby don’t like anybody havin’ the use of their hands when we take ‘em back. Makes her a bit uneasy.” He watched Ruby walk away and whispered to me, “Trust issues. Maybe a bit of PTSD thrown in there too, but nobody really knows except her boyfriend or whatever.”

I reluctantly held my wrists out in front of me, and Jackson slipped the metal rings around my wrists and locked them with a small silver key. “There we go…last person I had to cuff ended up with his face in a pile of bear shit. Now,” He moved to stand in front of me, and I could smell whiskey and something else on his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you unless you try anything, got it?”

I nodded, and Jackson took me by the arm of my shirt and lead me up over a small hill to where Ruby sat in the driver’s seat of a tall, black truck. The thing looked like it had been outfitted to serve the military; reinforced grille, lights mounted on the roof of the cab, and a lift kit that raises it an extra two or three feet off the ground.

“Put him in the back.” Ruby watched Jackson lead me to the side of the truck. I climbed in (heavily aided by Jackson), and Ruby started the truck as Jackson ran around to get into the passenger seat. The muscleman leaned around and pointed a small pistol at my head.

What the hell is up with people and guns around here?

I closed his eyes, attempting to process the events of the past hour as well as the fact that yet another weapon was pointed at me.

“I’m not going to try anything, I swear.” I opened my eyes and looked out the window as Ruby pulled a one-eighty in the massive truck and tore down the road, away from the dead man in the road and the red car.

“Jackson, lighten up a bit.” Ruby’s tone was scolding, and in the rear view mirror I could just see the outline of her face, framed by dark brown hair. Through the streaks of grime covering her face, I could tell she was beautiful, almost like she came right off of a movie set. “Kid, what’s your name?”

“Chris…” I swallowed before continuing. “Chris Adams.”

“Well, Chris,” Ruby turned a corner and pulls onto a large, empty stretch of road. She sped up to almost seventy miles an hour, but continued to speak. “Everyone’s gonna call you ‘kid’ for a long time. You have to earn the right to have people say your name when they talk to you.”

“E-everyone?” My heartbeat increased, and I started to hyperventilate. “Where are you taking me?”

“Hell.”

“Jackson, I swear!” Ruby shouted at him, and Jackson immediately quieted down, but kept the gun aimed at me. “You’ll see, kid. You’ll see.”

---

We continued down the road for another thirty minutes at least, and when we finally turned off onto a side road lined with thick clumps of trees, we encountered several people who ran at the truck as if challenging it to a fight.

“Hang on–” Ruby swerved around three of the people on the ground, but sent another flying at least ten feet. The other wasn’t as fortunate – or unfortunate – and got run over. My stomach rolled as the tires on the left hand side of the truck bounced over the fallen body.

“You hit them!” I yelled, leaning forward and trying to turn and see them.

“No problem there.” Ruby replied, and I watched Jackson lean out the passenger window and fire several shots at the survivors who followed them. “They’re Croats. That’s what almost took you out back there.”

“Croats?” I was even more confused. “What happened here, where are we?”

Ruby and Jackson exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite read.

“Cusick, Washington.” Ruby said. “Don’t you remember all the shit that’s happened in the past year?”

“I was…” I swallowed and looked around at the deserted landscape. “I was in my science class at UCLA and…”

“Dude, school hasn’t been around, that place should be overrun with Croats.” Jackson interrupted. “When?”

“Exact date, 11:59 in the morning, January nineteenth 2012.”

Ruby whistled and turned down another road that looked more like a driveway than a public road. “Kid, you must be high or something. It’s…” She checked a calendar on the dashboard. “February twenty-first 2017.”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I swear to God, that’s when everything just…”

“Well, someone’s screwed in the head and it isn’t me or Ruby.” Jackson said. “Just don’t let everyone else know, they’re already gonna want to tear you up.”

“Who’s everyone else?” I asked.

“At home base.” Ruby replied. “Just stay close to me or Jackson and you’ll be okay.”

Five minutes later, Ruby stopped at a pair of tall, black metal gates lined with barbed wire and rebar. Two men were on the other side, and they hastily pulled the gates open just enough to allow Ruby to drive through, and then slammed them shut.

Ruby stopped at the gate and gave a hand signal to one of the men, who whooped loudly and chased them as she drove down a paved road to a large building where other cars were parked. I counted a Toyota SUV, Jeep, and next to the building there was what looked like an armored police vehicle. The truck jerked to a rough halt in the center of the room and looking behind me, I could see several men and women streaming out into the area behind the garage.

Panic rose in my throat as several loud bangs echoed on the doors, and Ruby turned to me. “Don’t worry, kid, they’re excited there’s a newbie.” She opened her door and slid to the ground as Jackson reached over and undid the cuffs on my wrists.

“Stay close to me for now.” Jackson reached out and slammed his palm on the side of the truck three times. The shouts and banging quieted down, and Jackson opened his door, walked around to the side, and opened mine. “Come on, out.”

I slid warily out of the truck and waited for Jackson to slam the door closed. I counted at least sixteen men and several women all dressed in denim, heavy boots, and jackets (most likely due to the weather) standing in front of me. A few had rifles on their backs, and everyone had a handgun in a holster.

“Damn, he’s scrawny.” A loud, British-accented voice called out from the back of the crowd. “How the hell did he survive out there?”

Jackson grabbed the back of my shirt, shoving me forward and closer to the throng of people. I glanced up at everyone’s faces. More than half the men were taller than I was, and even two of the women had to be at least six feet tall. To add to the height intimidation, they were all muscular as hell.

“Guys, this is Chris,” Ruby says, and she stepped forward to stand next to me. She wasn’t very tall, in fact she looked like she was the shortest out of the entire group. “Be nice, he’s a bit dull.”

“Bet we can sharpen him up a bit, right lads?” The same accented voice called out from the back, and a couple of the men jeered and clapped their hands.

“No.” Ruby said. “I said be nice, and I mean it. Anyone who screws with him has to be on night watch for the rest of the month.” For some reason, the threat of night watch quieted everyone down. “That’s what I thought. Now get back to whatever you were doing. Ryan, Luke, you two help Jackson unload the stuff in the back. Tommy, clear out room 39 for the newbie.”

“God, I like it when you get bossy.” A low, husky voice echoed from somewhere by the front of the truck, and I turned to see a very tall man leaning against the hood. He had light hazel eyes that had a strange glimmer to them and long brown hair that curled in around his neck. Overall, he was very attractive.

“Thought you’d be here to give us a proper greeting.” Ruby walked up to him, and the height difference between them was almost comical. She stood at maybe five-foot three, and the man…Christ, he had to be six-five. His long, powerful arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

“I can give you a proper greeting later.” The man held her against the side of the car, and I felt my face grow hot as I watched; the tableau was barely romantic, in fact, it was rather sexual. “What did you get out there?”

“Food, stocked up on ammunition.” She wiggled in his arms and wrapped her denim-clad legs around his waist. “Got myself a new bow, had to break some glass to get it…”

“Nothing for me?” The man asked, and I saw him run his hand up her back, cupping the base of her skull.

“I have something for you later.” Ruby leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, and I turned my head away, slightly embarrassed that I stood there and watched for so long. Jackson and the two men from the gate were unloading boxes of canned food, and I joined in, staying close to Jackson.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Jackson whispered. “Sometimes I can hear them screwing each other senseless. I get it.”

“Who is he?” I asked, accepting a box from him. It was rather heavy, and I staggered under its weight. “The guy.”

“That’s Samuel.” Jackson replied. “They’ve been together forever, at least since I got here. They’re the Alphas here, everyone listens to them, do whatever they get told, y’know.”

“Alphas?” I asked. “Like in a dog pack?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Jackson grunted as he carried the last box to the stack by the wall and reached in to grab a large plastic bin. “Rest of us are their bitches basically, they just don’t treat us like it. You respect them, they respect you, that’s how it works ‘round here. Anyway, help us with this, c’mon.”

The four of us each took a side to the plastic container and lifted it off the tailgate. It was heavy; at least a hundred and fifty pounds, and I could hear metal clinking inside it. “What’s in there?”

“Bullets.” Jackson replied as the two men jogged back to their place by the gate. “Couple new guns, knives, shit like that.”

“Oh…why do you need all that?” I watched Jackson pull off the cover of the bin. It was filled nearly to the brim with bags of ammunition, and I could see a few knife handles jutting out of the piles of copper.

“To take care of the things we saw on the road.” Jackson bent down to count the haul. “Can’t kill ‘em unless you get them in the head or in the heart. They don’t feel pain or fear, and they’re mean as hell, strong too.”

“Why are they like that?” I asked. “What happened? I don’t remember anything.”

Jackson sighed. “You still stickin’ to your time-travel story?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just…I fell asleep or something in Los Angeles, 2012 and now I’m in Kansas five years later…”

Jackson waved my response away. “Never mind…I don’t know exactly what happened, Ruby knows pretty much everything that happened. To tell you the truth, I was probably unconscious in my basement.” He grinned at my look of confusion. “Alcoholic. Went to sleep and everything was pretty much normal. Woke up the next day or a few days later and…” he made an explosion sound. “World was shit.”

“But what are Croats?” I watched him pick packages of bullets out and line them up in groups of five.

“People that got infected with the virus.” Jackson tossed two more packages onto a pile and kicked it aside. “Government was planning to use bio warfare on the Middle East or something and it backfired. Better off askin’ Ruby or Samuel, they know more about it. Just make sure you don’t catch ‘em after they’ve been smoking.”

“Smoking?” I was confused.

“Yeah, they smoke.” Jackson replied, grinning. “Everyone knows it. They don’t get mean though. Some people get mean or jittery after they do a joint, those two just get real focused, all aware, y’know?”

I shrugged. Honestly, I’d never seen a person smoke pot before. My uncle had smoked cigars, expensive ones, and eventually his habit had killed him, making me swear never to go near the stuff. “Not really.”

I bent to help Jackson with counting the bullet packs, and within minutes we had 103 plastic bags sorted out, seventy-two containing M-43’s and the remaining containing fifty small, copper bullets each. We sorted them into tall, metal storage containers and slid the newfound blades into a separate compartment.

“Why do you need so many of those?” I asked, following Jackson out and up to the tall, eerie building.

“Kid, you saw what those Croats were like, imagine if a couple hundred broke in here? We’d need all that just to take them out.” Jackson pushed one of the heavy-looking front doors open and let the both of us inside. “C’mon, I’m gonna show you ‘round. Make sure you don’t get lost.”