Aberrant: Dead Rising - Uneasy [Complete]

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

“Ready?” Morgan asked.

Jules stared at the man who was so close to her dead love and tried not to feel anger or regret or any of the emotions that had plagued her since the liberation of Hell. That had changed things between her and Fox, and Jules knew that part of it was her fault. But she’d seen a side to him that was so unlike Dan. She was sure now that her attraction to him had been because of his brother.

“Ready,” she confirmed, as a part of her let go of him. Or tried to let go; she’d been working on that for a while. Trying to keep her mind on her business, she glanced at Cal. “You ready?”

“Yep,” the kid said, slipping on his sunglasses. He held the door and said, “Come on, Zeke!”

The dog bounced into the Jeep, padded over the front seats and then settled into the back. He stuck his head through the seats as Jules and Cal climbed in, Cal taking the driver’s seat as agreed. Jules put a knee on the passenger seat and nodded to Fox.

The silvery warp opened with a pop of displacing air. The hole in space showed a hazy view of the destination: Paradise. Jules wondered if the women who had remained behind had renamed it yet. Cal didn’t appear to be wondering about anything as he put the Jeep in gear, easing it and the small trailer they were towing into motion.

Before they were completely over, Morgan called, “Tomorrow at seven a.m.” Jules turned to wave acknowledgement as they crossed the warp threshold, passing through it with the sensation of cold water passing over them. As soon as they were over, Jules rose on her knee, rising above the windshield of the Jeep so that the women could see her face and long hair. They had told Jules last time she’d been here that it would help them realize it was a friendly driving toward them. She felt like she was making it easier to shoot her in face.

There was no gunshot, only a gate opening. Cal carefully drove through and shut off the engine; Jules bit back the urge to tell him to keep it on. At least the woman walking toward her was familiar. “Desiree,” Jules called in greeting as she hopped out of the Jeep, not bothering with the door. “Got some more goods for you, courtesy of Fox’s.”

“Who’s this… male?” Desiree asked. Cal stopped awkwardly, half-out of the Jeep. He looked caught between annoyance and embarrassment.

“This is Cal. He’s fine,” Jules said. “He was with me long before I found Fox’s even. Plus, he’s still a kid.”

“I’m eighteen!” Cal protested.

“Cal,” Jules said, pulling down her glasses to stare at him, “you’re not eighteen.”

“But… you never…” He trailed off, looking uncertain.

“I know,” Jules said, grinning at him. “It’s ok. If you weren’t old enough for me to trust, you wouldn’t be here.”

“As heart-warming as this is,” Desiree said, “how can I trust him?”

Jules closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t roll them. “Because I say you can,” she snapped, looking unamused. “He’s a good guy. I traveled with him for weeks and he never tried anything. Not all men are going to hurt you.” Jules knew it was hard to deal with that particular thing. She remembered struggling to trust men, knowing that intellectually, it was okay to not fear them. She also remembered the certainty in her brain that they were going to try something.

Desiree stared at her with hard eyes. “Fine,” she said sharply and walked away, shouting for help to unload the trailer.

“Well.” Cal walked around the Jeep and stopped next to Jules. “That could have gone better.”

“Yeah,” Jules agreed. “Yeah. A lot better.” She wished that Fox was coming to get them tonight, instead of tomorrow. Nothing was wrong, but she had a sudden sense of unease. “Come on. Let’s get this beast unloaded.”

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

Cal straightened and tried to stretch his back without appearing to do so. It was his pride that demanded that he try to hide his sore back from the women here. Jules knew it, mostly because she knew how boys his age were. Thankfully, Cal was unlike boys in most other ways; if he was checking out the women here, he was supremely discreet about it. Jules guessed that he was either sensitive to their fear of him – which was her hope – or that he was afraid of their reactions if they caught him doing it – which was her belief. She smiled at him as he lifted a shaky arm and rubbed his sweat-drenched forehead. “That’ll wear you out,” he exclaimed, eyeing the crates that were being moved from the Jeep to the storage building. “Well, not you.”

Jules nodded, trying not to be too smug about it. It wasn’t cool to rub that in his face, even if she did love that she wasn’t tired or sweating in the hot sun. “It’s a honest day’s labor,” she agreed, glancing up at the sky. The sun had been high overhead when they got here; now it was dipping toward the west. “We’ve been invited to dinner,” she said to Cal. “Hungry?”

“As a horse,” he replied. As Jules started to correct him, he said, “Um, any chance of a shower?”

“I doubt they have a men’s room anymore,” she pointed out quietly. “Can you wait?”

Cal glanced around at the women staring at them; none of the gazes were friendly. Finally he nodded. “I can wait.”

“Good,” Jules said, not sure the women would be okay with making room in their bathrooms for Cal. “Let’s get some grub.”

The cafeteria still bore all the marks of being a place of institutionalized food. The cooks behind the counter weren’t wearing hairnets and the atmosphere wasn’t as stifled, but the food still managed to taste completely mass-produced. Cal ate with gusto; he was the age when boys had to choose between being picky and getting enough nutrition, and his brain was clearly coming down on the side of nutrition. Jules picked at hers more and gave a lot of it to Zeke, though she was hungry. She still had that weird feeling, and her brain was screaming at her to take Cal and leave. It wasn’t an option; they didn’t have enough fuel to get back to Oklahoma, even if they ditched the trailer and everything else they didn’t need.

When they finished, a hard-faced woman with rough prison tattoos showed them to a cell. Attempts had been made to disguise this, but Jules still felt cold terror crawl up her spine. Their guide made no attempt to touch the door, so Jules managed to keep her fear under control. “You alright?” Cal asked softly.

“Not even close. I can’t sleep here,” Jules said.

“We can go to the Jeep,” Cal offered.

“No, no… you need sleep, in a bed. I’ll just walk around, see if I calm down, alright?” Jules tried to smile, to reassure him. He did need rest; he didn’t need to be screwed up by her ghosts.

“Aight,” he answered softly. She left him as he sat down and tested the bed.

Zeke padded along with her, the dog serving as the perfect companion. He wouldn’t try to talk to Jules or really expect anything from her. Instead, he was just there for her. The buildings were dark, and Jules relied on her superior vision to see in the darkness. Woman and dog wandered the prison, going to parts that Jules had never seen. Most of it was empty, deserted; the survivors of Hell were all clustered in the administration building. But it wasn’t abandoned; ghosts walked these halls, thick and heavy. Though not overly spiritual or gifted with spiritual matters, Jules could feel them gliding around her. She tried to say it was her imagination, but she couldn’t convince herself.

There was something wrong here, she mused to herself as she walked. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but nothing she found dissolved that sensation. When they’d liberated Paradise, the air had felt lighter and free. The other time she’d come here, this place had felt cleaner. Now, the miasma in this building felt more like the horrors of Hell. Again, Jules struggled to deny what she was feeling, to tell herself that she was just suffering from bad memories.

Zeke was dashing round, smelling at everything. Suddenly the dog paused, head up, nose working. “What’s up?” Jules asked. In answer, Zeke trotted off. Jules followed at an easy walk, knowing she’d find the dog soon enough. Instead, Zeke came back to her, something in his mouth. “Whatcha got, buddy?”

The dog had a human femur in his mouth. Grimacing, Jules pulled the bone out, ignoring Zeke’s whines of protest. Bits of rotting meet still clung to the bone, and Jules fought the urge to throw it. She knew that Zeke would just try to bring it back. “Can you show me where you found this?” she asked.

It took a bit of convincing, but Zeke finally lead her back to the room. One of the solitary cells had been redecorated. Bones – all arm and leg bones – were piled high or hanging from the ceiling by strings. The room’s purpose was hinted at by the bloody writing on the wall. A single word had been painted there in a brownish red color: Remember.

“Shit…” Jules whispered. The room wasn’t dusty, unlike some of the others she had seen. People came here, and Jules knew – just knew – that this was the reason why they were so hostile to Cal. This was a shrine to hate; they were fostering it like a religion.

Zeke’s whine cut into her thoughts. Jules followed the noise into the hallway, where Zeke was scratching at another solitary cell door. This room was also frequented; a flashlight hung on a cord by the door. Suddenly, Jules didn’t want to see what was in there. The shrine was bad enough. She knew, again with that unshakable certainty, that this would be worse. Still, she kneed the dog aside and opened the outer door, shining the light within.

“Please,” a voice weakly begged. “No more.” A man was chained to the wall, but with manacles and with hooks driven through his flesh. He was beaten and half-dead; Jules wasn’t even sure she could see her though his swollen face. Various items were scattered in the room, all covered in dried blood. Jules wasn’t sure what they were all for, but some she knew exactly what they were for; they’d been used on her.

Without hesitation, she entered the room, reaching for the chains that bound him. A second later she stopped. She could kill him, if she moved him. “How did you get here?” she asked.

“Asked… for refuge… killed my friends… the women… they killed my friends,” he moaned.

“Why?” Jules asked. “What did you do?”

“They said… we deserved it… we were… men.”

Cal. She’d left Cal alone.

“I will come back for you,” Jules said softly. “I will, and I’ll bring help. Just hold on.” She left him there in the dark, hating that. But she needed to rescue Cal, before they put him up on hooks, too. The image that blossomed in her mind brought on fear and determination. She wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t see her nightmares in his eyes.

She ran faster, Zeke right behind her.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

Another long, dark run through the lightless prison, trying to save a boy she loved. Cal was her responsibility, but he was more. She loved him, not like Ben, but it was still love. At least this time she was clothed, and not covered in blood. A terrible scowl crossed her face. Yet. She wasn’t covered in blood yet. Who’s and how soon would depend what she found back at the cell.

Her heart hadn’t pounded this hard since she’d been bitten, and she knew it wasn’t from running flat-out in the dead of night. It wasn’t entirely fear either. It was anger. No, it was rage – rage that once again, she had to pull a child out of the claws of the monsters. Last time, she’d paid with the pain and blood of her body. This time, someone else was going to pay in flesh. She’d be sure of that.

The cell door was just ahead of her, but that last leg seemed to take longer than the rest of the run. Jules burst into the room, already envisioning Cal’s bloody corpse or worse, an empty bed. When she snapped on the flashlight, he was there, asleep. He woke as the light hit him; like most survivors, he was a light sleeper. “Jules?” He took another look and paled at her expression. “What’s happened?”

“Get up,” she whispered. “You’re leaving.”

“We? Or me?” Cal asked, already reaching for his shoes. He’d worn his clothes to bed, a wise move.

“You,” Jules whispered back. “I have to help someone here, but I’ve got to get you clear first.”

Cal shook his head stubbornly as he double-knotted his last boot. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Jules snatched up his bag and shoved it into his chest. As she snagged him under his arm and pulled him to his feet, she snapped, “You will to save your ass.”

“And Fox will just kill me if I leave you,” Cal insisted.

Jules hauled him out of the room, still hissing in a near-whisper. “He will not. He’ll thank you for telling him what happened here, if I can’t pull this off.”

“What has happened?” Cal asked.

Jules shook her head, but then realized he had to know. “They have a man prisoner. They’re torturing him. That’s why I want you out. They’ll do the same to you, while they won’t to me.” Because they won’t get the chance.

“Jules-” His voice cracked and he said, “Come with me. This guy… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Jules stopped and turned him, catching his face and cupping it in her hands. “Cal, listen.” She stared into his dark eyes and begged, “Same for me. The difference is I don’t have a dick and I’m a lot harder to kill. I can’t leave someone here to suffer, and I can’t let you stay. Please. Just do as I ask.”

His gaze was tortured; then his dark-skinned face fell. “Al-alright,” he mumbled. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” Jules hugged him fiercely then said, “Get your keys out. I’m going to pull open the gate and you’re going to drive out. You have… six hours until our rendezvous. Start up once you hear me give the go ahead and just drive. Don’t get caught by zombies, and don’t run out of fuel. And don’t miss the meeting with Fox, even if I’m not there. Be ready, because they might be watching the warp zone.” Was that spot inside of rifle range? She wasn’t sure. She hoped not.

“Alright,” he whispered. His voice was quaking with fear. “Please stay safe.”

“I will,” Jules said. “Now go.”

The courtyard where the Jeep was parked was dark; there were no lights and no moon to brighten the night. The chain link gates were merely a lighter patch on the black wall. Thankfully, Cal had already pulled the trailer and Jeep around; he shouldn’t have to do more than punch the gas pedal to get out of there. Jules walked to the front gate and found the chain and padlock by touch. Knotting her fingers around the metal, she twisted and pulled. After a moment, the hasp gave way and Jules pulled it out, tossing it into the dirt. The chain she let fall free as she shoved open the gates.

“Hey!” The flashlight snapped on, bathing Jules in light. “What are you doing?”

Jules spun and slipped the rifle off her shoulder. Grabbing the barrel, she swung the butt of the weapon through the air about one foot over the flashlight. She was a bit low, but felt the butt connect with something soft and fleshy. The woman went down and Jules crouched over her, wrapping her arm around her neck. She drew it tight around her until she stopped struggling; then Jules check for a pulse. It was still there, and she dragged the former prisoner out of Cal’s path to the gates.

Jules hurried back to the Jeep. “Go,” she hissed. “Be careful.”

Cal nodded and turned on the engine. Jules used the roar of the diesel beast to cover her run to the Administration Building. She pressed herself into a shadow as women rushed out to investigate the noise. Cal was already gunning it; his lights snapped on as he rattled out of the prison. The women didn't try to follow, and there was little that they could do to stop him. Jules was relieved that they didn’t seem interested in shooting him, which was her big fear. That gave her hope that not everyone here was involved in the horror she’d found downstairs.

Just some of them. Her hands tightened on her rifle as she slipped into the building. Anger was a hot pit of fire in her gut as she began to hunt the monsters in Paradise.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

This building had power, and the hall lights were on. Jules shielded her eyes, reached out and snapped them off before they completely ruined her night vision. Even still, there were still spots dancing in her vision. The second the darkness fell, she heard a door open, followed by a feminine gasp of dismay. Using that sound as a beacon, Jules slipped up the hall. When the woman snapped on a flashlight, Jules smashed it out of her hand and threw an elbow in her face. The woman dropped, without Jules even seeing her face. That didn’t matter; she wasn’t the one Jules was looking for, honestly.

Jules continued along the hallway, fighting déjà vu at every step. As she glided forward, almost supernaturally quiet, she considered the other two times she had fought her way through this building, to this room. The rage was a white-hot knife in her gut, filling her with power. Life flowed in circles; how many times would she have to sneak through these halls, saving the innocent?

As she reached the stairs, she knew that resistance would increase. And there were voices and flashlights, marking the arrival of a group of women. Jules slipped under the stairs, into the shadows, waiting as they hurried past her. When they gave her their backs, she stepped out and attacked.

The first one didn’t have a chance. The butt of Jules’ rifle struck the woman at the base of the skull and she toppled without knowing Jules was there. The other two women turned and saw the implacable copper face with hard black eyes coming at them. The one on the right was just fast enough to earn herself a second blow from the rifle butt. She went down, dazed and bleeding from a split on her cheek.

The third woman had enough time to shout and try to pistol-whip Jules. Jules ducked, but the woman’s arm caught her, her elbow smacking Jules in the temple. It didn’t hurt that much, but it slowed the woman for a second. It was only a second, and Jules landed a much more decisive blow on her opponent when she brought her rifle up and straight-armed the woman across the chest. The blow knocked the weaker woman backwards, dropping her on top of her friend.

Jules turned and dashed up the stairs, her jaw set in a grim line. She was running out of time. There would be people swarming the halls, coming at the one woman’s shout. If she wanted to find and question Desiree, then she needed to hurry.

The door to the warden’s office was at the end of the hall. Jules ran for it, cloths lining a hapless woman who got in her way. At the door, she paused only long enough to savagely kick it open, prepared to find a mirror of the scene before: the hapless, abused man cowering on the floor before the sadistic woman. Instead of that scene, all she saw was a half-rotten corpse, and a word scrawled on the wall on blood: REMEMBER.

Jules turned and found Desiree and others behind her, the shotgun pointed at her. “Did you really think anyone would live there?” Jules started to grab the barrel, but Desiree squeezed the trigger. At this range, she couldn’t miss, and Jules was thrown backwards. For a second, she lay on the floor, dazed, staring at a ceiling she’d last seen in her nightmares. Then the women descended on her and savagely beat her into unconsciousness.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

Jules wasn’t sure what brought her back first: the pain or the cold. The latter soaked into her muscles and bones, seeping through her skin as if settling into the core of her body. The former just hurt, a ripping pain that renewed itself with each pained breath. It was absolutely dark, and she fought back irrational fear at that realization. Trying to not panic, she took stock of herself. Her arms were both sore and numb; they were supporting her weight, but she had to have been hanging like this for a while. There were a dozen small wounds scattered over her body, each of their small hurts adding up to a dizzying pain. And there was a raw feeling on parts of her body that told her these women were closer to Hornsbeck than they would admit. They hadn’t learned anything new; they were repeating the old over and over.

And she was going to destroy them for it.

Instinctively, she pumped energy into her body, prompting her wounds to close. Something was wrong. She felt it the instant she healed. The wounds were closed, but they weren’t whole. Shivering made them hurt more, and Jules fought back another stab of panic. Be calm, she ordered herself. Be unshakeable. Push it all down, until you feel no more than Walker shows. She choked back the dread that had pooled in her body and focused on getting lose. These people didn’t understand what she was capable of; they didn’t realize that a shackle around her wrists didn’t mean anything.

Jules concentrated and pulsed power through her body again, but this time, it was for something a little different. He muscles became elastic; her bones softened. Within seconds, she was far more flexible than any human had a right to be. She began to twist her torso to pull her arms loose, only to have her freshly healed cuts pull against her skin. Jules stopped, gasping, trying to determine what she was feeling. It was like there was something embedded in her skin-

Suddenly Jules understood what was happening. She’d been here before; not in this position, but in this cell. Only last time, she’d opened the door and found a man in chains with hooks in his flesh. “Just do it,” she whispered to herself, gritting her teeth. When she didn’t move, she hissed, “Do it!”

Jules pulled again, twisting to pull both of her arms free. The same motion pulled the hooks in her flesh loose and she shouted with the pain. But when the motion was done, the shackles and hooks clattered to the end of their chains, clinking against the walls. Jules dropped to her knees, shuddering with the agony of releasing herself. Her arms trembled as she wrapped them around her naked form; they shook until her skin closed again.

“Bitches,” Jules spat as she stood up. “Fucking bitches… dead bitches.”

Still blind, she began to feel around the room, cursing when she stubbed a toe or stepped on one of the hooks. Slowly she determined that she was in a solitary cell – a barred door with a solid panel on the other side. She couldn’t squeeze out of this cell. There didn’t appear to be a way out.

Sooner or later, they would come for her and give her the chance she needed. All she had to do was rest and be ready.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

She had hours to plan her revenge. Jules cooked up all sorts of interesting ideas and plots, only to reject all but the simplest. In cases like this, complex raised the chance of failure, and Jules refused to fail this time. Once they realized they couldn’t hold her for long, they’d just kill her. And Jules wasn’t dying in this pit.

The turn of the key in the lock brought her head up. Silently, she moved until she was just beside the door, eyes narrowed to prevent her being dazed by the flashlight. She heard the door creak open and saw the blazing light that filled the cell. “What the-?”

“Shut the door!” the smarter of the two women shouted, but Jules was already in motion. She spun, reached through the barred secondary door and grabbed the first guard by the throat. With a primal scream of exultation, she jerked the woman forward. It was no contest, and the only real challenge was between Jules’ strength and the structural integrity of the woman’s skull. Jules could lift the back end of a car; one skull was a mockery of effort. With a sickening pop, Jules had the woman’s head halfway through the bars before the other woman could move. The guard stuck in the bars gasped, thrashed and fell still, her eyes glazing.

The two women stared at each other over the fresh corpse. The guard couldn’t get the door closed because the other woman’s body blocked, and everyone in Paradise knew that Jules could squeeze through the bars. There was horror on her face as she stared at Jules, until the Native woman hissed, “You only have a short amount of time before I make it out of here. Better use it well.”

With a terrified whine, the guard turned and fled, her long hair snapping behind her. With a grunt of expended power, Jules softened her tissues and bones and began to wedge herself through the bars around the other woman. It was a bit awkward, but she doubted that anyone could remove the body with ease. It kept them from dragging the corpse out of the way and closing her in again. And most importantly, it made a statement.

Once she’d eased through, Jules picked the woman’s pockets for anything of use. Most of what she was carrying were ‘toys’ which Jules tossed aside in disgust. The revolver and then handful of rounds were gladly taken, as was the granola bar and the woman’s shirt. It was a little tight, but it dropped below Jules’ ass, and that was exactly what she wanted. Jules started to pad away before realizing that shoes were a good idea. Sadly, the dead woman’s shoes were too small, but Jules took her socks as minimal protection.

Turning, she started to run toward the exit. She remembered the way out, retracing her steps from the night before with unhuman accuracy. As Jules ran, she considered her next steps; would the guards try to come down here to stop her? Or would they set up an ambush for her.

That thought stopped Jules. Honestly, she’d do an ambush herself; it was a better choice than coming down into the darkness to meet a super on unknown ground. There weren’t many options to her, though; Solitary had one entrance and exit. Setting her teeth, Jules pushed on, hoping they hadn’t had a chance to set anything up.

Her hopes were dashed when she got to the last blind corner. She could hear them waiting, their hearts racing and their breathing coming too fast. They were scared but she had the bad feeling they’d do what they had to do to survive. She’d do the same. Normally, she’d put her money on her own survival, but there were more of them than her.

Sighing in frustration, she leaned back against the wall, feeling her head thud lightly against the concrete. Her eyes fell on a grate set high in the ceiling. Jules stared at it for a moment, then started to grin.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

The ventilation shaft was not the kind you see in movies, unless the movie was Aliens. Jules had about as much room to shift as Ash did in that pipe. No human could have fit into that space, and no human could have done it with such silence. Jules inched along, the revolver in her hand. She wanted her rifle desperately, but admitted to herself that it would have been harder to do this with it.

Another few minutes and another few inches were behind her. Jules paused, wondering what time it was. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, otherwise Morgan would be here already. Even if Cal hadn’t made it home – a thought that Jules refused to consider – Morgan would have come looking for them. Jules doubted they could have overwhelmed him.

A light flickered ahead, and Jules slowed even more. She crept forward in eerie silence until she pulled even with the grate and could see the ambush waiting for her. Six women huddled in the open room at the top of the stairs, waiting in fearful tension. Jules debating taking them then – she thought that she could shoot them all, but wasn’t absolutely sure. So she decided to move on. They weren’t her real quarry anyway. She wanted Desiree.

Setting her jaw, she inched forward again, ignoring the claustrophobic sensation of being in the vent. It wasn’t that hard to do, and Jules idly wondered if she were somehow broken. What kind of person could just shut off their fears to focus on their hatred? Jules wasn’t sure and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. She moved on, letting her desire for vengeance draw her forward.

It took time, but Jules found the exit she needed – a vent that opened into a deserted hallway, not far from the exit. Grinning with malicious delight, she eased the cover off the vent and slipped out the hole, sighing as she finally took a deep breath. Her skin was nearly black from the grime in the tunnel, which grossed her out a bit. She rubbed the worst of it off, rolling it off her skin as it gave up caking to her. In misplaced hope, she also took a second to clap at the filth clinging to the shirt. Jules gave up as she quickly realized that it didn’t matter – nothing short of a miracle was getting the shirt clean. She was also wasting time.

The exit wasn’t guarded and it only took the copper-skinned woman a minute to slip over to the Administration Building. Jules knew that she’d underestimated them last time and she thought about what she should do this time as she eased her way to the nearest entrance. Here she paused as she realized every light in the building was on. Crouching and ignoring how indecent that made her in this shirt, the woman stretched her back and neck to put her eyes just over the edge of the window. The hope and plan was to assess whether she could get into the building here.

That plan was instantly negated. There was comfort in numbers, and these numbers were very comforting. It looked like the remaining residents of Paradise were jammed into the hallways of the Admin Building. They were armed to the teeth and terrified.

Jules grinned, her teeth white against her stained and streaked face. They should be scared of her. But even in her triumph and rage, she knew that she couldn’t fight them all. Maybe Fox or Walker could have, but Jules knew her limits. Sighing in disappointment, she eased back the way she’d come. The next entrance she found told her the same story – huddled women, clinging together to keep the bogeywoman away.

The pretty super pulled back a little to consider her next move. In a flash, she realized what she needed to do. Fox had sent supplies over, and Jules knew where they were. More importantly, she knew what they were.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

It was six a.m. One hour before Fox came for her. Jules could have hidden herself and waited. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let it go, not these monsters.

There were women patrolling on the walls, watching for the rise of the sun. There were women waiting for the chance to ambush her in the Solitary Wing. There were women in the Admin Building, praying that if enough of them came together, it would save them.

Nothing was going to save them. What might have saved them was keeping up internal patrols, but there were no women walking the grounds to stop her. Jules grinned at how easy it was, unaware of how menacing she looked as she dragged the blankets and bedding out of the boxes in the storage shed. Next the native woman gathered some long iron rods. These were carefully and silently wedged through door handles, making it impossible to open the doors. Jules cut off all the entrances save one; that was the one she needed. The fabric was laid out around the base of the building, rolled and set in place like woolly borders. Her final step was to pour gasoline over them, moving quickly so she didn’t lose too much to evaporation. Jules lit one corner of the blankets and moved to a hiding hole in the shadows, behind some wooden pallets.

The flames rose quickly, the gasoline igniting with a roar. In a scant moment, the Administration Building was surrounded by three walls of flame. The screams started almost immediately. Jules watched as the women started to run out of the building, through the single exit; she could see others testing the doors only to turn away. The vengeful woman steadied the gun on a pallet and waited. She was hidden and safe in the darkness. Her perfect eyesight let her see even in the dim, pre-dawn light. Her acute mind let her see each face. Her determination to have her revenge let her wait, even as she wanted to just start shooting.

Jules saw Desiree; Desiree never saw her. The woman never saw anything else again, because that was what Jules had been waiting for. The super aimed and squeezed the trigger faster than any living non-super could have managed, and she found her mark. Desiree stumbled and collapsed, already dead from the bullet that pierced her brain.

Jules nearly howled in triumph. She didn’t have time for victory right now; the super turned and headed deeper into the compounding, moving toward the section that had been closed off in Hornsbeck’s time. It had been penetrated by zombies; it was dangerous for humans. But Jules wasn’t human.

The native woman charged the fence, barely able to see it in the gray pallor cast by the rising sun. Without pause, she threw herself at it, trying to scale it, hoping to make it over despite the soft moaning she heard in the night. She’d take the risk of dismemberment over the very real chance of being shot. She could evade a zombie better than a bullet.

At the top of the fence, she paused only to throw her leg over. As she was about to roll off and drop onto the ground on the other side, there was a blur of movement and a strong gust of wind. Normally, that sort of thing would generate fear in her, but the voice crying her name was familiar, almost as familiar as her beloved Dan.

“Morgan?” she gasped, dropping the gun to get a better grip on him. She knew he wouldn’t drop her, but she still had to get her own hold. She’d needed to have her own grip since the world ended. “But… you said seven!”

“It is seven,” he told her. His smile was sly and proud. “It’s seven in Oklahoma. Cal remembered and was waiting for me. I sent him home and came for you.”

“Thank God for time zones!” Jules laughed, then became aware that she was wearing just a borrowed shirt and socks. Morgan seemed to realize it at the same time, because his hands moved, just a little, as a blush crawled up his face. He looked as uneasy as she felt.

“Let’s get you home,” he said softly, his eyes trying to meet hers. But her dark ones danced away from his green ones and he just nodded, as if he'd heard something she hadn't said. Maybe, he had. The warp opened up and swallowed both of them.

[z-Jules WhiteElk]

He took her to the clinic, then left again. Jules was checked out and found to be in perfect health, though with a few more scars. She got a shower and Cal brought her some clothing. By the time she went back to their shared tent, she felt almost human again. Almost – after what she’d done, what she’d felt, she wasn’t sure she’d call herself that again.

It was mid-morning when Morgan stopped outside her tent and called her name. Jules stepped out and received a glorious smile from him. “Hey, found this,” he told her and handed her a rifle. No, not a rifle – her rifle, the one she’d taken from her closet at home in Towaoc when everything had gone so awful. It was the only piece of her previous life left – an instrument of destruction in a world of death. It was so appropriate it hurt.

“Oh, Morgan,” she said softly, taking the momento from him. “Oh, thank you, thank you! I really didn’t think I’d get it back. How’d you get it?”

“I took it.” There was more in his sentence, so much more. There was death and prying someone’s hand away from it; there was a life that had bled away in those three words. Jules thoroughly approved.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“I’ve seen how you treat it,” Morgan said. “I know you like that gun.” There was a pause and he said, “I need to go.”

“Before you do… what are we doing about Paradise?” Jules wasn’t letting this go; she couldn’t.

“Nothing to be done.” Again, there were so few words and so much more was actually said.

Jules felt her eyes widen as she read between the words. “What… what did you do?”

Morgan’s green eyes went distant and the wind chose that moment to sweep his red hair to one side. “The place is empty,” he said. “It was a sick place, so I cleared it out.”

Jules opened her mouth to say more but shut it, all those things unsaid. It was enough for her to know that Paradise was finally dead and gone, however he’d done it. She didn’t need to know more. It was over, finally, truly over. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“It was my pleasure.” Like a switch, he gave her a charming smile. “Take care.”

Jules watched him walk away, and she thought about how he’d changed emotions so quickly. She wondered if she’d looked the same as Morgan when she’d fought in Paradise for the third time. The fact that she couldn’t say no left her with a sense of unease.