Seeing something different

After a few days, Grace’s ankle had improved, so Nicholas decided he would try to retrieve the RV.

“You’re going alone?” said Grace.

“I would like you to stay off your ankle as much as you can,” said Nicholas.

“What if something happens to you?” she said, “Those people could still be out there.”

He tried to reassure her. He would be careful, and it wouldn’t take long, but his words did little to diminish the worry on her face.

After taking off his mask, she kissed him, gently and lingering, and said, “I don’t want to lose you,” she said.

She was always taking his mask off, whenever they were alone. He would put it back on and within minutes she would take it back off again.

The habit of wearing it remained, even though they were usually alone  now.

When he worked at the sideshow, his manager spoke of his mask as ‘not giving it away for free.” The real reason Nicholas wore the mask was that his face unsettled most people.

They would stammer, and their face would go pale while they tried to hide their discomfort.

It was slightly better with the mask. Long sleeves and long pants softened the sharp angles of his unnaturally bony arms and legs. An extra layer of clothing obscured the hollow of his stomach.

People were always trying to feed him, as if he were starving, and he hated eating in front of people.

His mouth was misshapen in such a way that it was easy to drool if he wasn’t careful, especially when he was eating.

With Grace, he could forget that he wasn’t normal. He didn’t know how what she saw was so different from everyone else.

Wendy

Wendy thought she was the last person left on earth, but after today, she would only wish that were the case.
After the day everyone disappeared, she continued living in her tiny, efficiency apartment. It was familiar, and it was her place.

There were clothes and piles of books on the floor. Her bed doubled as a couch, and her nightstand was a milk crate.

She didn’t consider it looting when she went foraging for supplies at the empty stores in town. No one else was using any of it, and besides, it would otherwise go to waste.

Her apartment was in a house which had once been a single family home, but was now split into two apartments. The downstairs had a front porch, and she spent at least a few hours every day sitting on the porch and listening.

She would strain to hear the sound of a vehicle or voices. Her stereo was never on, despite the generator she had for electricity. She was afraid the music would drown out any sounds made by other people.

Sometimes she turned on her small portable radio and scanned for a station, but they were all quiet now.

Wendy had always enjoyed solitude, but she found herself growing restless and longing for human companionship.

She was perusing the canned fruit at a local grocery store when she heard their voices.

When she hurried outside, she came across half a dozen young men dressed in similar gray clothing. They all had rifles.

“Hi,” she said, tentatively, as all of their eyes fell upon her.

“Why don’t you come with us?” said one of them. She realized it was not a question.

She was afraid to argue with them, or to resist. She allowed them to lead her to a shabby van parked nearby, and she got in the van without protest.

By the time they reached camp it was dusk. She was definitely not the last person left on earth, as this camp was bustling with at least 50 people.

Her captors brought her to another group of young men dressed in all black. She had noticed that her captors, and many of the people at the camp, had a “Z” branded on their left hand.

This new group seemed to be the ones in charge.

“I think Nicholai could use some company tonight,” someone said. She was grabbed by the arm and taken to a young man working on a bottle of vodka. She supposed this was Nicholai.

He hadn’t said anything so far, but something in his expression disturbed her. There was emptiness in his eyes that made her want to shrink away, but she tried not to show it.

“Sit on his lap,” said the young man who had suggested this pairing. Perhaps he was the leader, she thought.

She sat in Nicholai’s lap. He did nothing to either encourage or dissuade her.

He was not a large man. Probably slightly below average in height, muscular but not bulky, and with close cropped light brown hair. She noticed the “Z” branded on his left hand when he lifted the vodka bottle to take another swig.

The rest of the young men drifted away, but she remained perched uneasily on Nicholai’s lap.

“My leg is falling asleep,” he said, finally.

“Oh,” she said. “Do you want me to get up?”

“Yes,” he said.

He gestured for her to follow him, and he led her to a small campfire, where he sat down on a rock, vodka bottle still in hand. She sat down on the rock next to him and he offered her the vodka bottle. She took a swig hoping it would ease some of her fear.

Not saying a word, he just sat there staring into the fire and drinking. She wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, what he intended to do with her, and what kind of insane cult was this; but she was afraid that any of these questions would make things worse for her,  so she kept silent.

Nicholai

Nicholai awoke to the sound of voices outside. They were mostly male voices. There was some shouting, but mostly the tones were conversational. He lay on the mattress and looked at the inside of his van. There were makeshift shelves, made from milk crates, which were filled with comic books. Each edition was inside a plastic cover with acid free cardboard inside to maintain its shape and prevent curling.

The grass was still dewy when he stepped outside the van and started toward the center of camp.

“May I bring you something to eat, sir?” said one of the new recruits.

Nicholai shrugged, and the recruit was off in search of food.

As he neared the center of camp, he passed small groups sitting on the ground. Many of those he passed said, “Good morning, sir.” He did not respond to their greetings.

There was a single table in the center of the camp. The table was covered with food, mostly canned food. There was also coffee, and it looked like maybe even orange juice. There were also plates of cooked meat. He tried not to think about where the meat had come from.

“Here you are, sir,” said the recruit who had approached him earlier. Nicholai was offered a plate of food and coffee (creamer, no sugar), just the way he liked it.

The discussion focused on their current prey.

“There’s only two of them, and the woman’s pregnant,” said one of the men at the table, a muscular blonde of average height in his early twenties. “Should be no problem.”

“Then why didn’t you get them yesterday,” said Nicholai. The blonde flushed, and started to open his mouth.

“That’s an excellent question,” said the man at the head of the table. He was short, with a slight build, dark hair, and dark eyes that made most people uneasy. Everyone went silent when he spoke.

His name was Daniel.

“So,” said Daniel, turning to look at the blonde, “Why don’t we have them now?”

The blonde went pale and began to stammer. He mumbled something about them getting lucky.

Daniel got up, and slowly approached the blonde. “I can’t hear you,” he said.

“They got lucky,” said the blonde, in a shaky voice.

Daniel took a matte black, semi-automatic handgun and pointed it at the blonde’s temple.

“Maybe you got sloppy,” said Daniel.

“Please,” said the blonde.

There was a loud report, and Nicholai felt a warm mist against his skin.

“Somebody clean that up,” said Daniel as he walked away.

No one said anything for a moment.

“Served him right,” said one of the men at the table. Others exchanged nervous glances. Nicholai forced himself to stay at the table and finish the food on his plate. He said nothing.

After breakfast was finished, Nicholai went back to his van for his gear and set out to track the two who were the subject of the morning’s discussion. He knew that he was allowed his position, and allowed to live, because of his abilities as a tracker.

It also helped that he had a reputation as dangerous, which he had gained early on. This was a result of the first mission he was assigned.

Daniel told him to “Teach them a lesson,” and Nicholai was pitted against a settlement of fifty, and the results… The results had earned his reputation as ruthless.

He stayed in the trees as long as he could, then he skirted the empty parking lot and cut across empty backyards. There were clotheslines with sheets hanging on them in one yard, bright plastic children’s toys in another. The only sounds were from birds and the wind.

The RV was parked in a driveway, but he recognized it. The outside was slightly faded, and there was a satellite dish, and a couple antennas on the roof. The man was sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. The woman was not in sight. She was probably in the house.

This man was unnaturally thin and wore a mask. This was the man who had eluded the search party of the night before.

Nicholai watched the house for hours, hidden in the yard next door by a privacy fence and unpruned shrubbery.

The man eventually went inside, and began to pack the RV. It looked like most of what he took was food.

The woman came outside eventually. She was pretty. She had unruly red hair to her chin, a nose ring, and tattoos on her arms and back. She was obviously pregnant.

Nicholai watched them finish packing, get in their RV, and leave before returning to the camp to report on his observation.

The Beginning

Nicholas lay flat on the roof of his RV and used binoculars to watch the men creeping through the woods. A blanket made the scalding metal roof bearable and a hunting rifle lay next to him. The men in the woods wore camouflage and carried assault rifles.
He scanned the deserted parking lot and wondered if they had taken enough ammunition from the deserted department store nearby. He took one more look at the men in the woods before climbing down from the RV and going inside.
The inside of the RV was quite warm despite the open windows and screen door. Grace lay sleeping on the couch. As he crouched down next to her he saw beads of perspiration on her temples and forehead. She was pregnant, and Nicholas was losing hope that they would find anyone with medical training before she went into labor.
“Grace,” he said softly, “We have to go.”
It wasn’t always like this. Before, Nicholas and Grace had worked for a traveling sideshow. Grace was the fire breather. She and her roommate, the tattooed girl, tried to lure people into the “Exhibition of Curiosities” where Nicholas was one of the “Featured Exhibitions”.
They woke up one morning to find they were the only two people left. The other RV’s and vans were empty, and the encampment was eerily quiet. Belongings were left untouched, but there was no sign of any friends or co-workers.
“Why are we leaving?” she said, still groggy.
“There are men sneaking around in the woods,” he said.
“We haven’t seen any other people in weeks,” she protested. “Why are we running away?”
There were times when Grace’s optimism and belief in the good intentions of others was endearing to Nicholas. This was not one of those times.
“I think we need to stay away from these people,” he said.
She gave him a skeptical look.
“Please?” he said.
Grace packed the backpacking pack as Nicholas started the RV and began to drive. Within a few minutes he saw a van coming towards them in the rear view mirror. He sped up and turned off the main rood as soon as the van was out of sight.
Nicholas remembered seeing an RV dealership on their way into town, and he hoped he remembered how to find it, and that it was as close as he remembered. He spotted the dealership, parked, and ducked into the back of the RV.
He motioned for Grace to be quiet as he listened for their pursuers. After he was satisfied that they had probably not been followed, he drew his pistol, and cautiously opened the door.
At first Grace protested when Nicholas insisted on carrying all of their gear, but she soon realized that he was slowing his pace so that she could keep up. She was still amazed at the strength in the bony frame of his body.
They were cutting through backyards in an abandoned suburban neighborhood when they heard the van again. Nicholas quickened the pace, trying to put distance between them and their pursuers.
Grace felt a sharp pain in her ankle as it twisted, and she went down. Nicholas was crouched beside her in an instant. He could still hear the van, and it was moving in their direction.
“You need to get up,” said Nicholas.
He helped Grace to her feet, but as soon as she tried to put weight on the ankle, she almost went down again. After examining their suburban surroundings, Nicholas half carried her to a nearby house.
Once he kicked in the back door, he helped Grace to a sitting position on the floor and barricaded the door with a mahogany dining room table, matching sideboard, and dining room chairs.
He went to the other end of the house, and she could hear him moving furniture near what was probably the front door. She tried to ignore her throbbing ankle and aching back as she strained to listen for any sign of their pursuers.