Twelve weeks and a hydroponic memory after the Fall.

  “You know what sucks about keeping watch?” a guard asked around a mouthful of oatmeal. “The sounds. In the park, you couldn’t hear the buildings settling or people screaming for help.”

  “Screaming for help?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

  I truly hoped he was exaggerating, but I didn’t think so. We all heard things in the night. Hell, it was the main reason I pushed so hard to get us out of the park, but the screams of people in pain were a different matter entirely. Not that I possessed the ability—or desire—to go out and fight for their survival, but we could pay some poor schmuck to go find people in the night. An extra shirt or new linens were wonderful rewards for those willing to take a midnight bounty.

  Three months was a long time to survive in the wasteland by yourself. But I’m sure someone out there was channeling their inner Bear Grylls and living off the land. Was it really living off the land when you were just robbing empty homes, though? It could be. At the very least, it could count as survival.

  “Yeah. When the wind dies down and everything goes quiet, you can hear voices. Most of the time we ignore them, but that gets really hard when someone’s screaming for help.”

  “And we’re not trying to help them… why?”

  “Because that’s not my job. My job is to protect this building. Going out at night is dangerous.”

  “You’re a guard. Dangerous is the entire job,” I said incredulously.

  “Nuh-uh. We watch in case something bad goes down, then we come get you guys.”

  “And what, pray tell, am I going to do that you can’t with your gun? Is it just for show, or are you completely useless?”

  “What?

  “Nothing… It went over your head, which is more than I can say about the depth of your intelligence.”

  I was mad. What right did this moron have to keep that information secret? At the very least, it should have been a discussion between the group leaders. Even if everyone agreed we couldn’t help, the people lost in the dark deserved the conversation.

  Sometimes I miss the monarchy.

  If we had a monarch, they could decree that we must investigate any sound we heard out there. That way, we didn’t run the chance of leaving someone alone out there simply because the guards were too cowardly to do anything useful. Sadly, that scenario entirely depends on a person’s loyalty to their fellow man. Unfortunately, loyalty was a concept of society left behind long ago in exchange for self-preservation

  “What is this?” Chuck said, directing his question at the guard.

  “Mister Chuck, I was just talking about the really weird and unsettling things we hear at night.”

  “Weird how?”

  “Screams.” I said, cutting the explanation off before he could try to spin it in a noble light. “Our noble guard duty has been letting people die in the streets because it’s too scary to go get them.”

  Was I poking the bear on this one? Possibly. But leaving people to die because the cowards assigned to help couldn’t bother to raise a finger was truly inexcusable. If this would have been one of my cities, I would have gutted them like the yellow-bellied cowards they were and left them in the street for all to know their crime.

  You didn’t turn your back on those that rely on you, whether they know it yet or not.

  “How many? How often?”

  Chuck wasn’t wasting words on useless platitudes. Instead, he took the more direct path of moving forward to stop the deaths from continuing. The longer I got to know Chuck, the more I liked him.

  “Almost every night, Sir.”

  “Jeez,” the leader replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you’re on the expedition to locate the source of these screams. Vandre, you go with him and make sure he doesn’t back out. But be sure you don’t get too close to the city walls. We can’t afford any attention from the Mutated.”

  “You leave the moment you’re done eating. Take Scavenger Group One with you. They know Vandre and they know the streets.”

  And just like that, the command was given. I was back to risking my secret in the field.

  Yay.

  Dammit.

  ~~**~~

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Our investigation led us to the exact place we hoped it wouldn’t: The WalStore. Hours upon hours of clues had brought our search party straight to a pair of glass storefront doors. While we weren’t nearly stupid enough to storm the place, we were stupid enough to claim that we wouldn’t let them take another person.

  You know, like we had control over that or something.

  It really was amusing how optimistic some people were. Even while their civilization crumbled to nothing, they continued to hope. I was almost envious of them. I was almost envious of all of them.

  We watched as an overly modified vehicle touch down and its passengers climbed out. Dragged by the leather-bound accountants, four people with bound hands were shoved through the door at knife point. The last thing we heard as the cheap glass portal closed was a wail of painful mourning as their fate met them for the first time.

  “There are a few things that need to happen if we’re going to stop them from taking people,” I said when we’d retreated to our base of operations. “First, we need a set of two-way radios to make sure we can hear each other no matter where we are.”

  “And how would we do that?” Chuck asked.

  “Pick a building, put a relay on the top floor, and post watches around our territory.”

  “You think a radio relay is going to stop them?”

  “No, but I think it will help us fight back.” I replied.

  Chuck walked to our battery array and read the current draw. I knew where he would go with his argument, and he had a point. “Power is a premium, and we don't have enough batteries to spare a string at each site. They are much too valuable for that.”

  “Then, obviously, we need to find another way.” I replied.

  This was yet another item in my long list of complaints with the modern world. Humanity was so spoiled by the convenience of unlimited energy, they completely forgot what it was like before. And when someone gently reminds them that the world doesn't revolve around their convenience, they become angry. It’s almost like they refuse to acknowledge how much worse life could be. I should just give them rocks and sticks. Let’s see how much they like it when they have to create fire by accident.

  “We can’t just ‘find another way’, that’s not how things work. Once the batteries run out of power, we’re dead in the water,” Chuck said patiently.

  “Hey, not to butt in or anything, but you know some of us had useful trades before the collapse, right?” a young woman said. I’d seen her listening from the corner of my eye, but hadn’t paid her any attention because… well… It’s easy to forget that people could be useful.

  I’m not sorry about that one either.

  “Oh, and what exactly was your special skill? Carbon Miner, engineer, or maybe you were a high school science teacher?” I said, assuming her past like the fool I am.

  “No, dickhead, I was a lineman for the power company. I know the New York power grid like the back of my hand.”

  That one was… well, it was unexpected and more than a bit humbling. It was easy to dismiss people and assume they didn’t matter, especially when you’ve convinced yourself there was nothing left to learn.

  I only had a small history with power transmission. But if I could say anything about linemen, it was that they were more capable—and crazy—than almost anyone else. Nikola was a dear friend, but the man was in a committed relationship with his pigeon… and that was weird.

  ~~**~~

  “Nikola, what you have could change the world.” I said, circling the strange device in the center of the room.

  “Yes, well… I feel like I’m on the edge of a breakthrough. If the energy will just do what the math says it should, I could power the entire world for free and bring forth the next revolution of man.” Nikola Tesla said, never turning away from the blackboard in the back of the room.

  The workspace was cluttered with abandoned projects, while his current obsession was proudly displayed in the center for all to see. Two small prongs held a perfect sphere of glass several feet above the ground. Inside, a metallic filament waited for current to be applied.

  “And how, pray tell, will you be accomplishing this feat?” I asked, tapping the side of the glass and watching the tungsten wire tremor under the vibration.

  “It’s really quite fascinating. If I can crack the barrier of distance, that array could power radios, light bulbs, even electric motors. Sadly, I’ve been… Distracted of late. The pigeon… It’s sick, you see, and I can’t bring myself to focus while I worry about her.”

  “Does the machine work right now?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t have let you see it if not. But please, friend, help me decipher the math that will heal this wonderful bird.”

  With confusion etched on my face, I turned and realized what was happening. The inventor hadn’t been working on his dream of wireless power, but was instead calculating the effectiveness of various treatments for the bird he loved so deeply.

  “Nikola, sometimes the things we love get sick. Sometimes, they die. And there’s nothing we can do other than live our best life and experience everything this world can offer.” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. The coming days would be hard on him, and support I could give was support he needed.

  “And sometimes, you have to spit in the face of God while science pulls the ones we love back from the other side. If I’m right, this machine will pump her with enough power that death will no longer seek her soul.”

  If my friend had been talking about a lover, child, or even a friend, I would be entirely on board. However, it was none of those. The creature he was so set on saving was a bird.

  “You would play at being God?”

  In place of an answer, Nikola wrapped his fingers around a lever and pulled, closing the curtains and dropping the room into darkness. A moment later, I heard the distinct sound of a breaker being thrown as the machine energized. The air hummed with power as small arcs of lightning arced up and down the rods. A radio crackled to life and the smooth tones of Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ filled the room.

  In the center of the room, the glass sphere flickered to life with a soft, blue-white light.

  “Haven’t I done so already? Haven’t I already given light to the darkness?”

  ~~**~~

  “Do you think you could restore our power without causing too much of a scene?” Chuck asked, glossing over our barbs and moving on to the point.

  “I can do you one better. With a little help, I can build a dedicated circuit for this building, and we’ll be the only ones in the city with power,” the lineswoman replied.

  “Yeah, a dedicated circuit is good and all, but you’re missing the point. Without the initial burst of power to start the fusion reactors, there will be no power to distribute,” I said, trying to poke holes in her plan.

  “If we were planning to use fusion, then yes, it would be a problem. But we’re not. I know the secret to power in this city, and I know how to bring it back.”

  I was wrong to dismiss this woman so casually. Restoring the power to this building would usher in a new stage of development for our group of survivors. It better not just be standard human bullshit. Because right now, our hope for the future relied entirely on her ability to produce results. I just hoped everything went well for once.

  Thinking of all the times things haven’t gone to plan brought back a flash of memory from Egypt. If I hadn’t proclaimed myself Set made flesh, the Pharaohs would’ve never been that powerful. They used my hubris as the basis for calling themselves gods and enslaving others for thousands of years.

  What was that saying again? Something about the plans of mice and men?