Much like the tornado, time was a living, breathing thing. Time could never be reasoned with, nor did it bother to explain when it just didn’t make sense. It took time for winter to set in, as in the temperature, but the blanket of snow fell in a single night. The gale simply tossed it about and eventually allowed gravity to reclaim it. A sheet of ice glazed the top, as all that was once wet must now freeze. It wasn’t deep, yet crunched loudly with each step. It seemed a natural irritation.

Throughout most of Jason’s life, he’d been taught the intrinsic value of silence. Winter betrayed that sacred creed, despite the fact none existed in the wasteland of trees to discover his presence. He found himself constantly looking back over his shoulder. This too was a trained response, but as the rage petered off, fear set in of what he knew his father was capable of. The least of these was a stubborn penchant to never forget . . . anything.

Should it be a class, his father would’ve scored straight A’s in “Holding Grudges 101”. It’s just that most never lived long enough for it to fester. In fact, Jason may have been the first. So, he counted the minutes, expecting his transgression to be rectified. After all, weren’t both stunned in the moment? Wouldn’t his father soon come to his senses and hunt him down. It couldn’t have been easier with the fresh tracks he left with every step. Yet, each backwards glance revealed the same empty vista, aside from the ever-present trees. Jason nearly wished to see his father skimming across the snow at mach speed . . . just so it could all end.

This torment coupled with his dread of civilization, which wasn’t unknown as much as uncommon. This became more and more unavoidable as the years passed. Even wiping his ass with leaves fell short in winter and packing it with snow never ended well. Supplies were a necessity. Once upon a time this was delegated solely to his father, but after a while Jason joined him. It served as yet another lesson. As wise as it was to steer clear of populated areas, fearing them wouldn’t do. Isolation or not, the two didn’t live in a bubble. Encountering people was a natural evolution he must learn to cope with . . . and not just for the sake of killing them.

The problem was simple. Never once had Jason ventured to a city, town or village alone. His father made it plain to all who’d wish him dead, that this boy was protected. Of course, people still tried to claim his youth, but only because seeing his father and realizing what he was capable of were two very different things. Even so, the risk was great enough when his father left him to go into town, so how much more treacherous to travel alone? So then, what now?

Slowly ruins replaced trees, which then gave way to buildings, dilapidated and abused, but populated all the same. It wasn’t so much the tornado touching down, though such damage was plain to see. Basic upkeep was a luxury when survival hung in the balance with each bright new day. The only work done on a building was to stabilize it from imminent collapse or whatever else was required for basic existence. Of course, that mattered most after a storm, so people were milling about, but mostly in shock or to survey the damage and surmise whatever repairs were possible.

Few paid attention to Jason. He wasn’t the first to travel abroad this morning. As he neared, other tracks in the newly fallen snow became more and more prevalent. So too, were some passing him on the way out, with barely a glimpse in recognition of his existence. Mostly these were calling out names he naturally didn’t know. It was a search. Storms always led to missing persons, many of which were never found.

Jason was sweating profusely with a nervousness he’d rarely known. He’d be more comfortable if those around him were actively trying to murder him. None were, however, and he’d blended in beautifully as if this excursion were planned or at least perfectly timed. Part of him had to admit he was grateful. In the past all eyes were on the two strangers.

Madison was plenty large enough that many didn’t know each other; even now, after having been rebuilt. It was common knowledge few cities survived the Atra war. Most were razed to their very foundations. This new Madison was built upon the ashes of the old. It wasn’t nearly as sprawling, but still stood out as the predominant beacon of civilization for dozens of miles in any direction. Whatever towns once existed, were mostly abandoned, as the remaining populations slowly merged and rebuilt out of a common desire for survival.

The whole world was in a similarly dismal state. Jason knew from the history his father taught him. The planet was now a vast expanse of ruins, pockmarked with the occasional hub of civilization. This proved neither people, nor progress failed to come to an end, despite how things had changed. It was just different. At least it was for Jason, who was far more used to the wasteland.

Slowly, the morning faded, though the day remained bleak. The clouds were slow to dissipate and sleet rained down, granting the ice a mirror shine. This dreariness seeped into the bones of all who witnessed it. For those hardest hit by the storm, shock set in as the revelation hit home that they weren’t dead. That’s the moment one must steel themselves in the realization that life went on, despite the fact everything was now infinitely more difficult. That’s what starting over did after the tragic glitter of newness vanished.

Jason was no different. He wandered, directionless. It wasn’t as if he’d put much thought into a location, after the critical decision to leave his father. Why would he? His vision of the future was simple . . . death. Yet he hadn’t died, so in that pivotal moment only three choices remained. He could’ve forever roamed the wild expanse, embraced the tornado and the sweet kiss of death or explored something new, of which only Madison was available.

In that split second, against all manner of fear, and mostly without considering the cost, Jason chose civilization. So, here he was, but what to do now? His pretense was summed up on a single word, “supplies”, but served as poor justification. It came as a secondary shock to actually blend in, but a saner mind would’ve assumed as much in the aftermath of such a storm. It was a gift, but what to do with it? He must decide something, because he knew his anonymity wouldn’t last.

In the end Jason’s body offered him little choice. With his stamina drained, each step grew more arduous. To a point this was weakness, as any would be after the defiance of a tornado. Beyond this, he’d been awake far too long and been subjected to more than most. His eyes, once alert with fear, were now heavy from fighting a losing battle. Despite the ragged condition of his clothes, he was well bundled, which compounded the problem with a stubborn resistance to the biting cold.

Yet, where was he to sleep? Where in this sea of potential murderers could be considered “safe”? It was just another thing he’d not considered. No matter where, he must decide before he was noticed . . . because he stood out. It wasn’t as if the denizens of Madison wore pin striped suits and ballroom gowns, but neither were most accustomed to sleeping outdoors; much less for months on end. He looked the part.

Even so, around here rags were to be expected, though perhaps not tattered quite as much. He assumed places existed in which one could find new clothes, but deeper inside the bowels of the city, not here. Though a barter system existed since the war, he owned nothing of value. It didn’t matter. Wealth was a dream beyond his reach and he’d other things in mind that the finer ilk would’ve frowned upon. Fortunately, not one of them lived on the fringes, populated by the less desirable, so he blended in a bit better than he otherwise might’ve.

It came as no surprise Jason chose to capitalize on the destruction wrought by the tornado. Many homes had been laid to waste. The open field leading to the tree-line was strewn with shattered boards, shingles and a variety of other such debris, now mingled with the ruins of yesteryear. Some newer buildings were already too far gone; long since abandoned prior to nature’s festivities. Many of these had been torn asunder; ripped to their very foundations. Jason found one that remained. It was roofless, but the walls would suffice.

Here, the daylight hours passed. Jason slept unmolested by the cries echoing from search parties, as well as the screams of the dying, whether by nature’s hand or another’s. By the time he woke, the sun had thoughts of sleep. Not that it spent much time free of the clouds that hovered in heated debate on whether or not to unleash another volley of snow. Still, after such a devastating gale, the sun was a welcome sight, even if dying.

Jason gave a thought to “supplies” and figured something may still be open . . . if only he hurried. So it was he found something else, someone else. Or rather, someone else found him.

<><><><>

Wferium Tdena, she called herself. It was an old name. It fit her wrinkles and her sagging breasts, of which she still seemed so proud. She said they shared the same hooked nose and so must somehow be related, but where was the witch in him, Jason wondered? All she was lacking was a wart and a broomstick. Yet, she looked so hungry and had a familiar gleam in her eyes. She wanted death. She ached for it. Not her own death. No. Like everyone else, she wanted to be young again.

Jason met her by accident. It couldn’t have happened any other way. She wasn’t the sort he’d ever choose to seek out. Hell, he wished to avoid everyone but the shopkeeper he’d yet to visit. She said everything still had its place. No matter how old. No matter how out of place. She said to drop the damn Mrs. shit and call her Wferium. It came across in a way that made him care, but he couldn’t guess why. Then she said it was no accident their paths had crossed. It was somehow prearranged they meet, as if it were her destiny as well as his.

She wasn’t innocent. She never pretended to be. Not on purpose anyway. She said her age had certain benefits that couldn’t be helped. She was open enough to be honest. She said she’d been old enough for too long in this shit ass town. She said she’d been around to witness the fall of the first, rebuilding of the new and the hell that the new had become when it too became old. She was ready for death and said he could help her find it.

The fear that ebbed and flowed through his veins earlier in the day had mostly faded to a devil may care attitude. He couldn’t pinpoint what emboldened him. Perhaps it was freedom. He’d fully expected to be awoken by his father, who could’ve tracked him with ease. Whether to collect him for a later punishment or to end things on a more permanent note, he couldn’t guess, but when neither happened, a certain relief washed over him. With his training and a new lease on life, Jason felt he could take on the world. Though he knew better than to stick his neck out, he silently taunted the whole city to take its best shot.

Whatever caution remained failed to curtail the belief he could best the ancient hag with little effort. Thinking to catch Wferium off guard, that’s when Jason assaulted her or at least he thought he had. Wferium pinned him to the frozen ground within seconds. For all the skill his father taught him, it was nothing compared to what she could do.

“You lack experience, little shit.” She spoke clearly in her gypsy like accent, full of pretending to be what she wasn’t and denial for what she was. She was no more a gypsy than Jason was. Her accent was well practiced, but cracked and frayed, with the falseness of it shining through here and there, as if her origins were from a different place entirely . . . and a different time. The truth of it showed through particularly when tested, but mostly when salivating for youth.

“I’ll grant you a guess.” She hesitated for effect. People all around were watching, but not watching and all envious of the delicious youth about to be consumed. “What would you be if I wanted you to be? Answer the riddle and maybe you live to see another tedious horror in this shithole.”

Jason knew the answer, but didn’t reply. Not right away anyhow. Despite his obvious disadvantage, he was shocked to discover he didn’t feel fear. Not like he thought he might; certainly not how she must’ve felt. Death loomed all around her like a cloud ready to burst. Murder was one thing. It was common, normal, expected. This was different. What threatened her was death from old age. Yet Wferium was an enigma, because that only happened to the decrepit; too frail to take the life they need or unable to survive the youthing should a life be gifted them. Wferium certainly wasn’t weak. Still, he answered correctly and incorrectly all at once. He’d had enough and much as with his father, threw caution to the wind, with little care for the result.

“Dead. As in the stench of it that follows you and reeks of age. You’d better damn well kill me. You won’t live out the night if you don’t.”

“Goddamned youthful impertinence!” She screeched as her claw like hand constricted his throat from uttering more contempt. “Such a mouth on you! You should damn well be my meal! I need one and you are so fucking juicy! But the tables have turned and now you will help me hunt. Your freedom of choice left you the second you stepped foot in the city. You have been watched, young fool. Oh yes, the irony! You thought you’d just found your freedom, didn’t you? Who knows, maybe you can regain it. I need a protector tonight and you will damn well do it!”

Jason willed himself to say, “Fuck you, bitch! It’s not my night to watch over granny!”, but nothing came out. The air required to simply think the words was fading.

“You . . . are . . . dying, you little shit. And I should let you. But you are not what you think you are. You are not what your father tells you. There is more at stake here than you can possibly imagine and I need your help. Your reward is nothing less than the truth. And you will want to know it, impertinent as you are, because you are forbidden to know it. You . . . know . . . what I say is true. A part of you always has. I’ll offer you a tidbit to lure obedience from your dying breath. Your father is older than he seems. Much, much older. And he has a history that is known to us. Watch over me if you wish to know more.”

With that she let him go. All he could do in response was gasp . . . for breath, not revelation. Nothing Wferium said proved convincing. So she knew about his father. She wouldn’t be the first. As far as being older; he’d already guessed as much. Or it could all be a lie. The fact that she was alone, but said “us” was far more intriguing, but not dying superseded all other concerns. After all, he’d nearly lost his fifteen years to a withered prune, after barely a day of his “freedom”. God damn it! She did not need protection! Her age would be protection enough. Age that could be seen was automatic insurance. None would dare risk DOE by finishing her off.

As if Wferium’s gypsy guise weren’t completely a ruse she seemed to read his mind. “Death comes in many forms, little whelp. All they’d have to do is cart me off. And rest assured they will try. I am a danger. A risk. A terror. And they’d like nothing better than to be rid of me. Ah, yes! My age! Do you really think I need to kill to be those things? Do you?! Fool! Death has given birth to more than one form of torture! My favorite and most loathed is called life. You’ll learn the rest in time. Catch your fucking breath. I do not have all night. I am being watched as well. We all are. My prey has caught my scent. I have been hungry for some time now. They’ve seen it. They know. I’ve only been waiting for you and you came through as I knew you one day would.”

Jason gulped and moved to speak, but Wferium cut him off. “Keep your tongue or lose it! You’ve got nothing I want to hear. I’ve got everything you want to hear, so do as your damn well told without the whining and belligerence that so corrupts your age.”

As much as he hated it, it was an easy command to follow. He could barely speak as it was. He didn’t trust her, but then she knew that, too. She even said as much. “Fool as you are, you’d be a greater fool if you did. Yes, I read your mind. Don’t think your father can’t. What reason would I have to lie? Another truth, but not a free one. You haven’t yet earned it. You must work double time to catch up! I have a scent! I can smell fear. Hide it all you want, I smelled yours and it was delicious.”

Mesmerized by this witch, Jason wondered if she really could read his mind. It could all be lies, but what of his suspicions about his father? It would explain so very much. He was intrigued. He practically needed to know more. Of course, Wferium already knew that.

“Remember shame, young fool? You didn’t want to know that in the end, did you? You won’t want to know what I’ve got to tell you, but then it’s not about want, is it? No, it’s not. Part of you already knows that. It’s about need. You can’t do what you need to do if you don’t know, now can you?”

Jason couldn’t help think, “Fucking witch! Fucking riddles! Fucking bitch! Maybe I’ll kill her myself!”

“You would too, wouldn’t you? Even though DOE would claim you. I sense you’d embrace the trade, foolishly so. Still, you know how to do it, even if you have yet to. For all his lies you’re father taught you well. Certainly not everything he said was false. He is a man that loves you. Likely the only one, though. He’d be dead already if I could pull it off, but he’s older than I am, you know.”

After a brief pause, “Oh, there I go again! Play catch up, little shit! Don’t think you can riddle me out of all my truths! Do you really think I’m senile? Do you really think I’d let something like that slip? Not quite. The more you know the hungrier you’ll be for the truth. You will protect me. You’ve lost all choice now, and the catch is that you know it. The miracle is that I believe you can do it. Well, do it or die, because they will come for me. You can see them. They follow and wait. They want you badly, but they know me. They know what I can and will do to them. So, they wait for their opportunity.”

Jason couldn’t help but look behind them. He saw nothing, but shadows folded upon shadows. They were not alone, but the streets were now emptied. The road before them was dead. The fear that never truly left now began to infect his heart. This was no longer a game. This would be a test unlike anything he’d endured from his father and it was pass or fail. No middle ground. No second chances. Life or death.

Wferium piped up again, “I can taste your fear, little shit. You can’t know how badly I want to kill you, drink your youth and end your useless, pointless rambling. But lose your damned fear. Lose it or die from it.”

Once let loose, containing fear was much easier said than done. It was like catching a cloud.

“Know this, if it helps. You have a part to play in the future. Not even I’m sure what it is, but I know it’s important. That’s what you have to give. That’s why I bother with a delicious morsel like you at all. You, young Jason Jacobi, are not supposed to die. Not here and not like this. I’m not sure when, but not now. Not tonight. So, don’t let it happen, because things can change. What’s supposed to happen, may not happen at all or may happen in a different way. What’s not supposed to come, may still come to pass. I can’t say what will happen. Only what should. And certainly not why.”

You can see the future? Jason was incredulous. Something like her can’t exist.

“Ah, but I do, don’t I.”

Thinking fast and on purpose, Jason’s thoughts pleaded, “Why can’t you hunt elsewhere? Or on a different night? When the danger is less to none?”

“Imagine that. Would I need you then? Perhaps I couldn’t avoid the temptation to devour you instead? Hmmmm? But then, when and where would you suggest? Have you ever known a place or a time you could actually call safe? No. Of course not. Not for one like you. And certainly not for me. Face the truth, here and now. You, like I, have been haunted by the living since birth. If you put any real thought into it, you’ll agree it’s quite the miracle we both still breathe. Either way this piece of the puzzle needs to happen tonight. We are almost there. I will answer no more thoughts.”

That, of course, didn’t stop Jason from thinking them. He was corrupted by them as if he’d never thought so much in his life. He had so many damned questions. Those piled atop so much fear, both repressed and real. Why so much deception? Why so many lies. Then the clincher crept in, mother of all questions. Who the fuck was Jason Jacobi? Who was he really? If he was really so similar to Wferium then what could he do that he wasn’t even aware of?

Then in a whisper, “One more tidbit for the road. Use your anger to fuel your fury. User your fury to quell your fear. Do this and you might just survive the night.”

Then she turned down a narrow, but well-lit street and promptly entered what must’ve been the smallest hometown grocery on the face of the planet. Jason had no way of knowing if this was her final stop, but it seemed to offer little to no protection. It seemed empty to boot. It wasn’t.

A sorry excuse for a woman huddled in the corner. It was plain to see she was ripe with fear, but Jason smelled the sweetness of it before laying eyes on her. It proved a guide, he supposed no different than how he’d been found. It didn’t take long for Wferium to spell out her sordid tale. Her name was Joan. Wferium had been tracking her for a solid month. It wasn’t so much that she was hard to find, but frequenting her store enhanced her fear. Every shudder reverberated with the scent. With each visit Wferium warned Joan in no uncertain terms that she fell into what she was looking for. To perfection, she played a cat tormenting a mouse with the knowledge their days are numbered. That’s what it meant to be watched; that’s how it felt. Joan hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since.

Wferium knew she’d discounted the original threat. Who hadn’t done the same from time to time? The world was chock full of murderers, but still most death threats were empty ones. DOE made sure of it. Even so, Wferium was the memorable sort. Each time, like now, she donned a black cloak, hooded, but minus the scythe. Mimicking death was the point and each subsequent visit drove the idea home. More than the cloak, she had an aura about her. Even Jason could tell. Wferium was the master of her domain. Her every word boomed with authority. She combined that with a vicious conniving nature until Joan squirmed like a worm on a hook.

Wferium read her thoughts to know escape wasn’t an option. There was nowhere to go. Even if there was, she’d know and follow. Her choices were at an end. Rarely had Joan displayed anything resembling bravery. It was just another reason she’d been selected. Wferium glimpsed the future to know she’d decided to stay and take her chances. Invading her thoughts revealed her family dead or forsaken, with not one true friend to her name. She had little else but her store. Without it she was as good as dead. Joan sought help, but none could be convinced or bribed. She’d been marked for death; claimed as if property. Wferium spread the word that anyone who aided her would meet the same fate. People even stopped shopping at her store. Regulars chose to walk the extra miles and take the extra risk. There was nothing left to do but wait and plead her case, which would prove yet another source of entertainment.

Jason learned Joan wasn’t helpless, but unexplainably, instinct revealed when they’d met their match and their time was up. He supposed it was true, but only yesterday he swore death finally found him. Wferium made it plain there were exceptions, but not for Joan, who still didn’t understand how or why she was chosen. As a final recourse she’d convinced herself Wferium couldn’t actually kill her. Joan was AA57, though she looked to be only EA24 or so. Wferium already knew her true age or close enough to it. It was a key factor in her decision. It didn’t hurt to know Joan killed so very many, as if her death would prove a measure of justice instead of simply a means to an end. Joan snuck death in a wicked and despicable way. She’d killed from behind. She’d killed the weak and the wounded. She’d killed those in the youthing process. She’d killed children. She’d killed babies . . . and often. She was a monster and she knew it, but couldn’t stop herself. Wferium would lend a hand.

Even so, for most, 57 years was too much to take all at once. Joan’s thoughts revealed her understandable delusion that Wferium was off her game and somehow thought she was younger. If so, it’d be all she could do to take Wferium with her. Such mistaken ideas brought a sadistic smile to her wrinkled face. Joan had no idea what was in store for her, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever it was would be worse than mere death. Hell, it already was.

Now Wferium actually opened her mouth to speak. It was only then Jason realized rarely had she done so, having been distracted by the new unfamiliar environment. He was stunned to discover most of the time he was hearing her thoughts as she heard his. Noise was never a concern in this hunt. She’d simply gotten tired of his rambling. “Yes, I’ve unlocked you. You’re father could’ve at any time, but chose not to. Now, lock the door.”

Then came her thoughts once again, “This is all for the sake of fear. The monster called Joan cannot hear our thoughts. The locking of the door does nothing to those who watch. They will get in. But Joan fears what she believes is our distinct private moment. Her fear will make her death all the better. The pain too, of course, but we must take pleasure when and where we can.”

It was faint, but he could hear this woman Wferium called Joan, as if her last name was irrelevant. Didn’t impending death place greater importance on who a person was, for the sake of remembrance? Maybe, but he and his father had seen to the death of more than he could count. Jason couldn’t remember a single name . . . if he’d ever known them. Yet it all felt so different now. Joan wasn’t a threat. Not to mention, because of Wferium, Jason knew her far more intimately than any of the others. How could that not make a difference?

“Joan’s last name doesn’t matter. She’s not worth remembering. She won’t be mourned by any but your bleeding heart. Know that she’d never feel such sympathy for you. Let her go.”

Jason couldn’t argue these truths, but he’d never been able to disconnect in the way his father could, not instantly anyway. Though he’d never met Joan, he felt a connection forming. Not that she was innocent, but how were his own hands not stained with blood? Did she really deserve to die, just because she fit Wferium’s desired profile? Then he was suddenly struck with a new thought . . . why the fuck do I care?

“Why, indeed. You shouldn’t. She isn’t worth your tears. Quiet now.”

Though layered in shadow, Joan had come into view. She cowered in the corner behind a cashier’s desk that had seen better days. It sounded like she was whimpering, talking slow and low. How could she ever hope to avoid death if she didn’t shut up?

“She’s not actually speaking, little shit. You’re practicing the gift I gave you. You’ve opened the door to her thoughts. The greater the fear, the weaker the veil guarding the mind. You only hear my thoughts because I allow it. How else are you to learn? Work at it and you’ll improve.”

Then Jason thought, “What has she done? I mean to you?”

Annoyed, Wferium thought, “Fool! No one needs do anything! Death is death. It comes, it goes. It comes for the best of us as well as the worst. The choice is in the age, not the morals. I’ve killed better and I’ve killed worse. But as I’ve already told you, she’s been very, very bad by all moral standards. I come for her also because she feels guilt for it all and that makes her fear so damned sweet.”

Then after a pause, Wferium continued, “I know morals haunt you. What your father did to protect you? Even now, with a broken bond, it eats at you like worms carving apples, creating new pathways to rot from the inside out. But the protection felt nice, didn’t it? Yet that brought guilt. It endures, because now that it’s over, guilt is all that remains. This guilt spawns fear, admitted or not. How do you think I found you so easily? More importantly, how do you think everyone else did? No place was safe for you. Those who know how, read you like a book. Your fear drew them in like a damned homing beacon. It’s a fucking miracle Scott managed to keep you alive till the ripe old age of fifteen. He tried to desensitize you. He tried valiantly to kill all that damned fucking fear infesting you. You pretended he had. That it was all gone, but it wasn’t. It never was. In fact, everything he did made it worse. So, here you stand, in this destined moment. I urge you. Abandon your morals. Reject your guilt. Forsake your shame. In so doing, the fear will fade. Don’t and I swear it will mark your end.”

Jason had nothing to say to this. Not even anything to think. His mind felt emptier than it ever had.

“That’s a good start, but I know you’re just stunned. Truth, much like shame, is sometimes far worse than death. Joan, here, deserves to die. You can feel good about that. She’s killed countless babies all in the name of easy youth. But I chose her for another reason. I desired to present you with an example of the power unchecked fear wields. Of what you’ll surely become if the terror clenching your heart fails to ease. Take a good long look at Joan. That will be you and soon. Change now and live. The hallowed days of protection are at an end.”

Jason stared down at Joan. They’d been present for several minutes already, lost in thought. He plainly saw how confusion flooded her sleepless eyes, knowing it served only to aid the fear corrupting her heart. Of all the warnings, none suggested Wferium would be anything other than alone. It might’ve granted hope; a chance to plea bargain with someone less bent upon her utter destruction. Yet that was before they both appeared . . . in sync, as if in a joint trance. Joan had no idea anyone, much less the two before her, could read thoughts. Hell, it might’ve been worse had she known, but all this “strangeness” was by design. It was yet another tool Wferium mastered to conjure fear. It worked. Joan huddled all the tighter, now petrified as blood drained from her clenched fingers to reveal a whiteness soon to spread. Muted, only her thoughts got through. The case she’d planned to present on her own behalf, the show, the spiel . . . all long forgotten, bar one.

“D . . . Don’t . . . please . . . I . . . I . . . please . . . I have . . . I have a child.”

Suddenly Jason turned to Wferium and thought, “She has a child! You’ve got to pick someone else! Who will care for the child?!”

Then a simple thought, “Do you want to? No one else will. If it matters to you, the child will die with or without Joan. She has lost all willpower to keep her own child alive. For some, death becomes a drug. I’ve kept her nearly catatonic with fear the whole of this last month, surviving only on the food she can no longer sell. She is in deep withdrawal. If I let her live, which I won’t, she would soon kill her own offspring, just to feel momentarily at ease under the illusion of control, despite her failed business and miserable existence. Or perhaps she’d do it to end the wailing, since those petrified by fear can hardly be trusted to care for a child. After all, do you see any marks on her? She is ripe with shame as well as fear. She refused to hurt herself for her child. The little girl is only AA2, a pathetic, useless age. The child cannot live, because she has no such protection as you had at that same age.”

Then, “You’re strong, Wferium! Why don’t you take care of the girl?”

The thoughts could not contain her laughter and Joan cringed at the sound of it. “That will not happen. And you know it. The child will die. You can be the one to kill her if you wish. She is near, sleeping like the dead from the drugs given to silence her cries. Be it you or not, she will not survive the night. The others who watch will certainly finish her off.”

“Then take her to someone who will protect her!”

“Who? Your father? Why would he do that? I think you know he won’t.”

“Goddamn it! If you don’t protect the child then I won’t protect you!”

“You will do as you’re told! I have seen it. If you run you will die. If you don’t fight you will die. I can’t see every avenue, but I know this at least. Now lose your God-damned fear. Time runs thin. I will murder her now! She is mine to do it!”

Jason had never seen anything so swift. Wferium moved with a speed that belied her age, much like she’d halted his own attack seemingly before it even began. Within seconds, Joan was dead; a quick fate. It was more than she deserved, but time was a luxury Wferium no longer possessed. As if to balance the scales of this loss, Joan was splayed open, mutilated. Her insides were on the outside and it seemed her head had imploded. She was gone . . . far more than gone. Jason wanted to vomit. He’d seen his father do some terrible things, but this was different. He couldn’t explain it, but that fact didn’t change how he felt, or the bile that so desperately desired to be free from his aching gut.

“Contain yourself. The youthing will soon begin and once it does, will last deep into morning. Protect me and you protect yourself. But whatever you do, do not kill a single one of them. DOE will certainly follow if you do.”

This, Wferium thought while drenched in Joan’s blood and entrails. By now he could hear and see their stalkers. They were right outside the door . . . dozens of them. Though none appeared to have a gun, all possessed some crude form of weapon. Jason had nothing.

Then came Wferium’s final thought before the pain set in. “Joan knew nothing could stop me, so didn’t bother with the loaded sheargun stashed just under the desk in front of you. DO NOT KILL THEM! Blow their fucking nerves out!”

The steadily growing, but soon agonizing pain set in, contorting her body in ways unnatural. The storefront glass shattered, as if in unison. The initial shock deafened Jason to Wferium’s initial groans, but now mixed with the riotous screams in an unholy symphony. Seemingly on instinct, Jason went for the sheargun and the extra shears next to it. He’d never used one or had cause to, but knew of them as they were fairly common. He found an old handgun there as well. Joan came well equipped for someone so full of fear, but he understood, because that was him now. Though Joan never had the preparation he’d been cursed with since birth.

Instead of falling catatonic with fear, Jason aimed and fired. Blood, screams and shattered nerves followed as the three closest attackers suddenly lost all feeling in the areas around impact and collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Firearms with the capacity for immediate death were hard to come by. Most were banned as DOE shadowed them like a plague. Joan most likely picked up the handgun off the street, next to the shriveled up corpse of someone who handled it with less care than they should’ve.

The sheargun was a modification of the ancient shotgun only insomuch as it shot multiple projectiles at the same time. The design was radically different, with similarities more akin a crossbow. It sported a wide metal bar, curved into a bow with a handle grip and a trigger. Inside the flat part of the bow a dozen tiny holes had been drilled; proof of illegal modification, but in this day and age few cared. A regular sheargun supported only eight holes. Regardless of number, each hole shot about twenty or so nearly microscopic pins. Each possessed the ability to deaden the nerve endings in a humatran body for a few inches in diameter. This meant aiming wasn’t much of a problem and though only three people were totally incapacitated, many more were hit in various places.

The sheargun’s pins were designed to affect a body superficially, as in muscular tissue. Critical functions such as blood flow and oxygenation remained intact, but that didn’t mean a well-placed pin couldn’t kill by entering the brain through the eyeball or the throat through the screaming mouth. Jason knew this from previous assaults and aimed well below the belt. This unfortunately, left plenty of near rabid attackers still crawling toward him, now with their heads at the forefront and a massive danger of death from a second shot. Jason quickly grabbed the antiquated gun, but unfamiliar with its use, failed to ready it before someone reached him.

Jason assumed they’d lunge for his ankles, and they did, but not only them. People continued to breach the shattered glass. They weren’t zombies . . . far from it. For the most part, these were lucid humatrans, who’d lose much more than the use of their legs if Wferium was allowed to survive this ordeal. They were, for all intents and purposes, on a mission. Most were poor, but not one was stupid. Still some, who for whatever reason didn’t have shoes, were lacerated by the glass. Zombies wouldn’t care. Humatrans did.

These turned back, but most feet were protected to varying degrees. Still, those who fell, traveled beyond the radius of the shattered glass, so persevered, willing themselves forward on revenge. They knew full well the cure for massive nerve damage had a price tag far beyond their means. Should they survive, and they would, the end result would be crippling. The least they could do was return the favor. In this effort one of them grabbed for the sheargun, but others, not so inhibited, simply chose to use their hands.

Since all they managed to grab were the plethora of rags hanging off him, Jason tried to pull away. Some he managed to, but others clung to him. As he backed up, Wferium let out a vicious kick in a futile, nearly uncontrollable effort to quell the rising pain, connecting with one man’s ankle, twisting it in an unnatural way. He went down hard, with an elbow to a crippled woman’s neck, snapping it and killing her instantly. Both the pain of the broken ankle and the realization he’d killed someone hit him at the same time. He could care less about his ankle. He couldn’t guess how old she was, but didn’t have much time to dwell before the rising pain quickly took him out of the fight. Soon, his thrashing tripped others, but no more fatalities resulted from it. The incident, however, gave Jason the moment he needed to break free.

Jason scurried past Wferium as quickly and carefully as possible, placing two thrashing, pain wracked bodies between himself and the mob. This had the added effect of placing the sheargun out of easy reach. That wouldn’t last, nor would his position, even though he was now behind the front desk. The mob may now have Wferium, but couldn’t act on it while a threat remained. He took the frantic few seconds afforded him to try and figure out the workings of the handgun. How hard could it be? The gun went off haphazardly, tearing someone’s ear off. An inch to the right and death would’ve claimed them . . . and himself.

The second shot was near to the same in luck with a bit of, if not planning, then accidental urgency. Inevitably, the mob reached him, but the hole he’d put through one of their hands granted a few more precious seconds. However, this time Jason was cornered, offering no retreat. He stood in the bloody carcass Joan had become, snapping whatever bones Wferium missed. That didn’t seem terribly important at the moment. So, as carefully as he could, Jason started plugging ugly holes into various legs. He focused on people climbing atop the desk. These toppled backwards, knocking others over like dominoes.

The gun clicked three times before he noticed someone finally picked up and aimed the wayward sheargun in his general direction. On instinct, Jason threw the empty gun their way. As luck would have it, the impact glanced off the woman’s head causing her to pull the trigger as she swerved. The bulk of needles embedded into the ceiling, but two met a sudden end after taking shots to the eyes. A few others had also been hit in the head. These, though still alive, fell too, convulsing as everything non-vital suddenly began to shut down. The woman who’d pulled the trigger watched in horror with the certain knowledge of her imminent DOE. There was no way her short years could contain such death. Then the pain hit and she too fell.

Still they came, as if an unstoppable tide. The crawlers were already seizing his legs after dragging themselves past the still thrashing Wferium, who Jason now realized was low priority compared to her guardian. Whoever remained must take care in the manner they disposed of the witch. That would require time and planning. She was already incapacitated and suffering greatly, as were a few others. They must now, somehow, do the same to him.

They yanked him down till he fell in the bloody slop that was once Joan. He kicked frantically at their heads. One let go, cursing as they did. Another didn’t, but by then two more had him by the shoulders and hauled him back up through Joan’s innards. This must be the beginning of his end, but he took a final glance at Wferium. Everything happened so fast. Only 10, maybe 15 minutes, had passed and, though she still thrashed wildly, he saw she was slightly younger, her features smoothed out and lost, if only slightly, her seemingly cursed demeanor. He silently wished her luck as he was dragged over to the other side of the counter, falling with a thud that brought a smile to his captor’s faces.

Still, Jason struggled, but to no avail. Nearly all were on top of him now. He’d already lost this battle. He figured with some degree of unwarranted certainty, since he now knew his father could read his mind, he’d soon come to his inevitable rescue. He’d kill the rabble in his own grisly way and flaunt the fact that Jason couldn’t survive without him, but welcome him home all the same. That didn’t happen. Either Wferium lied about what his father could actually do or he was somehow out of range and couldn’t find him. Or just maybe, he’d truly given him up to the fate he so willingly chose. Did it matter? He hadn’t come. With astonishing efficiency he was hauled away by those who remained. Jason felt the poke of an injection and the chaos began to fade along with everything else. The last thing he heard were the hungry cries of the little girl who’d finally awoken from her medicated slumber, blissfully unaware of her equally uncertain fate.