Simple (25 page)

The jail was a small white building that sat off the main street.  The inside was sparsely furnished with a filing cabinet, a large metal desk and two wooden chairs in front of it.  A large dusty flag hanging on the wall reminded me of a time when government mattered in our world.  Time hadn’t touched this little place, and there was something slightly unnerving about that.  The facility contained two adjacent cells, and leather man was searching his large key ring and trying to figure out which one worked.

“We haven’t had any use for these cells in longer than I can remember,” he said with a nervous laugh.  His apologetic expression made me uncomfortable.  I looked away, focusing my attention on the dusty flag.  “Ah, here we go,” he said, pushing the metal bars to open the door.  When Sonya didn’t move her feet, Deraline gave her a healthy shove. Sonya shuffled to the cement bed hanging from the wall and sat facing us as the man with the leathery face closed and locked the cell door.

“Which one of you wants the keys?” he asked.

“I’ll take them,” I said.  “Deraline, you go join the others.”

“Aren’t you coming, Lee?”

“No.  I’m going to stay right here for a while.”  She shrugged her shoulders and turned to the door.

“Lady, if those things are coming, you should probably get to the church with the rest of us,” said the man.

“I’ll be there.  There’s time.”

“I hope you’re right, but just in case…there’s a pistol in the top drawer of my desk, and it’s loaded.”

“Thank you,” I said.  The edges of his grey mustache curled upward, revealing a surprisingly soft smile as he extended his hand.

“My name’s Ross.  I’m sorry about your friend.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?  If you give her a gun, she’ll kill me as soon as you walk out that door!”  Sonya was on her feet, her plump hands curled around the bars.  The man locked eyes with me and raised one black brow as he contemplated her words.

“Lady, you reap what you sow.” With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with Sonya.

“Please, don’t kill me.  I don’t want to die!”

I said nothing as I went to the desk and retrieved the pistol.  Sonya dropped to her knees, grunting with the effort.  I could smell the strong odor of urine, and under that the acrid scent of sweat.  She’d pissed herself, and she had good reason to be afraid of me.  I was fighting everything in me to let go of the emotions I was fighting.

“You know, in many ways we’re a lot alike,” I said, sliding a chair out and sitting down.

“We could be friends then, maybe, huh?  If we’re alike, then let’s try to work things out, okay mija?” Her voice was imploring, and I hated the sound of her false hope.

“No.  We’ll never be friends, Sonya.”

“Okay, maybe not friends, but allies?  We could be allies!  I know the simps, and they trust me!  When they come, I can tell them that you want to help too, and then they won’t kill either of us!”

“Is that what you did for Kyle, Sonya?”

“Yes, of course!  I protected him, and he would have died without me!”

“He did die, Sonya.  He died at the hands of the synthetic beasts you serve!  I imagine he was actually dead long before that.  Did you force him to service you for protection?  Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that he was your prisoner?”

“I never forced him to do anything!”  She balled her fists, and squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to convince herself of the words she spewed.  “He…loved me and, I loved him!  We had an understanding!”

She was actually convincing, and had I not read the note from Kyle myself, I might even have believed her.  The problems of a world void of comforts brought out the worst in people.  It was possible that Sonya was always a conniving person, or maybe she experienced something and it changed her.  It is possible to become so desperate that you will do anything to survive.  Human nature drives self-preservation, but at what cost?  As Sonya continued to try to persuade me, I became aware of a faint
clicking
noise.  It was coming from outside.  “Shhh!” I warned Sonya.  Hearing the sound for herself, Sonya closed her mouth and got to her feet.  I moved to the side of the dirty window, and slowly positioned myself so that I could get a glimpse.  The wind had picked up again, and it was causing a metal sign to swing in the breeze.  For a moment, I assumed that this was the source of the sound.  Then it began again, and I knew I was mistaken.

The clicking was coming from somewhere further off.  Vince’s dentures came to mind, and although I couldn’t see any immediate threat in plain sight, I knew that they were here.  I shook of the memory and quickly went back to the chair.  Unzipping my pack, I grabbed my boots and a pair of folded socks.  This time, I wouldn’t hide while the horrors unfolded.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as I pulled on my socks and boots.  I ignored her as I tightened and tied my laces.  The clicking was growing louder.  With a whimper, Sonya slumped against the bars.  She knew that I was done talking to her.  I had planned to shoot her.  There was never a doubt about that in my mind, but now I didn’t dare risk drawing attention to myself with the noise.  When I’d finished, I collected my pack and then paused.  “You know Sonya, if you’re smart, you’ll pull that bed sheet off the bed, and find a way to hang yourself with it.  I can’t imagine them letting you live.”

“No!  Aaron will not kill me.”  She shook her head back and forth.  “He knows how useful I am!”

“You know, you could be right about that, but the truth is, I doubt it.”  I moved around to the front of the desk and looked through the drawers, checking for extra ammo.  Finding a half-f box, I stowed that in my pack before slinging it over my shoulder.  There wasn’t anything else of value, so it was time to go.  I hoped to meet the others at the church before the town was overrun.  I checked the window again.  Seeing nothing, I moved to the door, turning the handle slowly so as not to make any unnecessary noise.

“Don’t leave me here!  Please!  I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”  Sonya wailed desperately.  I left the door open and walked out.  Her cries faded behind me as I continued down the wooden sidewalk.  The wind was howling now, and I had to shield my eyes against the blowing sand.  The church was farther than I had realized, but I could see it in the distance up the hill.  The storefronts offered shelter, but the spaces in between them channeled howling gusts, which made it an agonizing stop-and-go process. I made it to the end of the street and stopped to get my bearings.  The church was still a good distance away.  I looked back, debating if I should return to the jail or maybe even one of the stores.  That’s when I saw them.  Aaron and the spider simp were standing in the middle of the road, and a mob of simps were behind them.  The clicking sound had escalated, and it was maddening.

There was no point in drawing my weapon, because there were too many of them for it to do me any good.  I backed up slowly, pressing my body against the side of the wooden storefront with its peeling barn-red paint, and dared to reach out slowly for the handle on the door.  Feeling relief when I felt the knob turn freely, I inched along until I could slide inside.  The shop smelled of stale cigarette smoke and old books.  An assortment of old, dusty dishes, turquoise jewelry and dolls of varied sizes cluttered the counter and surrounding shelves.  I slid between two bookshelves and crouched down.  I could feel an unsettling tremble in my legs, the kind that comes from too much physical exertion and not enough sleep or food.  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since I’d eaten.  I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath, and then forced myself to keep moving.

Finding a door on the far back wall, I cracked it open and peered out.  A dirt pathway lined with half-buried glass bottles led to a dilapidated house.  The yard between the two buildings was fenced on either side, but the fence was in desperate need of repair.  The slats were leaning, and gaps between the dry, weathered boards did little for privacy.  Behind me, I could hear glass shattering, and knew that the simps were already inside the store.  I darted forward, passing the little house and continuing down the side of it.  The side-street was a dirt road with other little houses that continued uphill.  Although I wasn’t on a direct path, I was still heading in the right direction toward the church.  I darted behind the next house and hunkered down behind a propane tank.  The clicking had stopped now and was replaced by the sound of several people talking rapidly, and the voices were growing closer.  Recalling the bridge, I knew that there were several of them in close proximity.

My eyes darted for a safer hiding place as I clutched the loaded pistol Ross had given me.  Spying an open shed, I made a run for it and crashed into the same young woman who had been knocked to the ground earlier.  She was still holding the small child.  His tiny fists clutched the folds of her dress and his wide-set blue eyes were filled with unshed tears.  I felt immediate danger, looking into that child’s face.  Nothing said “come and get me” like a screaming kid.  My first instinct was to turn and run as far from these two as I could get, but then the
clicking
was on us.  I grabbed the young mother by the elbow and pointed to the shed.  I motioned with my hand to stay low and be quiet and then I led the way.  We managed to get inside the shed just as a cluster of simps came by.  I could see through a gap in the wooden slats that there were several of them, each grotesquely deformed.  Their voices mixed in that indescribable pace that only they could understand, and I feared the child would give us away.  Mom was busy soothing the back of his little head with her hand, and I held my breath as the first batch went by us.

Just when I thought it was clear, the shadow of a body blocked the light from the gap in the wooden slats.  I jerked away from the space in time, but the simp looking in saw that child, or maybe the child saw that eye peeping in.  In the blink of a simp eye, it was too late.  The child began to scream at an attention-grabbing pitch that caused that simp to hack the wooden slats of that shed away with his bare hands as if it were nothing more than cardboard.  I did my best to maneuver them out of the way, and managed to get a head-shot, but the screaming and the sound of gunfire caused a swarm of simps to descend upon us.  I was scrambling to pull bullets from my pack as fast as I could but had to drop the first handful and scramble when the wall I was leaning against was torn away.

I finally managed to get it done and fired off several rounds.  Not all of them were kill-shots, but it bought enough time to keep us alive.  I turned to the mother and shouted at her to run while there was an open chance.  She didn’t hesitate to follow my instructions, and I covered her while she scampered through an opening with her little one screaming and clutching at the back of her dress.  I watched his little face over her shoulder for just a second before I had to turn my attention back to my attackers.  Spider simp appeared in the open space before me and I became instantly terrified.  The clicking was coming from this one, and he was doing it now with increasing volume. It was instantly evident that this was the calling card for all simps to join him in a killing frenzy.

If ever there was a time when I called on a higher power for assistance, it was in that moment.  Spider reached in with one freakish swoop and grabbed me by the ankle.  I twisted over onto my stomach and clawed at the earth, desperate for something to cling to.  Spider was yanking now with excruciating force and fresh bolts of pain pierced through my lower leg.  I was certain he’d rip my leg off before I ever got a chance to grab the rusted pipe that I now had in reach.  My gun was lost in the shuffle, and since I could do nothing about that, my immediate concern was about getting my hands around that pipe.  My fingers dug into the loose sandy dirt, and at one point I thought I had it, but the simp was fast.  The next thing I knew, I was being yanked backward at an unnatural speed.

It’s amazing how the mind can think of other things, even in moments that are completely out of your control.  I flashed back to a night I had spent with my old boyfriend Rick, back before I knew what a colossal asshole he truly was.  We were lying on the bed at his place, watching a movie.  One thing led to another, and it turned into a playful wrestling match.  He was tickling my feet, and I’d begged him to stop.  I was on my stomach, hanging over the bed.  As a reflex, I’d rolled myself over and kicked him square in the jaw.  It was an accident, and I’d felt terrible about it.  He accused me of nearly breaking his jaw; but it definitely put a stop to the game that night.  He never tried to tickle me after that.  I flipped over now so that my back was dragging in the gravely sand.  Spider-simp was still pulling and I was getting increasingly close to him now. Reaching out, I grabbed a board that was within my reach and when he stopped pulling, I kicked out with my left foot as hard as I possibly could and landed a firm blow into his stout belly.  This caused him to release his hold on my other foot, but I knew that it would be a temporary reprieve if I didn’t move swiftly.  I scrambled to my feet and drew back with that board as if it was a baseball bat and my life depended on the swing.  Landing a harsh blow to the side of his head, I knocked the simp backward.  Straddling his middle, I wasted no time in driving that board right between his flailing baby arms.  A warm spray of dark fluid splattered my face as I drove the board deeper into his synthetic flesh.  “You fucked with the wrong human, you deranged sack of shit!”  I sneered.  Pinned now, he gave a final click and then his eyes rolled upward and his mouth went slack.

There was no time to celebrate the victory, as three more simps raced toward me.  I spied my gun in the dirt and lunged for it, but they were so fast.  A female with scraggly red hair was on my back before I could get it, and she knocked me flat to the ground.  The air whooshed out of my lungs on impact.  My knee hit something hard, and I would have screamed out if I could have, as something drove deep into my upper thigh.  Before I could recover, the two other two joined her to assist.  I’d be split three ways in the next minute if I didn’t think fast.  The irony was that my gun was just out of my reach.  I contemplated my options, but there were none.  The red-headed cyber-bitch grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my face into the dirt.  I thought about Mic as the world around me went black.