From Darkness Comes: The Horror Box Set (93 page)

Day 156. Hunting and gathering.

Didn’t have time to write yesterday, and it’s almost dark as I sit down to write this entry. The general arrives tomorrow morning but most people are just too tired from the exertions of the last couple of days to show any kind of excitement at his imminent arrival. Negi is lying a few feet away from me, and for all the things I admire about the man, he snores louder than a bloody power drill. Anyways, I’m not really sleepy – the adrenaline is still working its way through my body and it’ll be a while before I can get myself to sleep.

We began our foraging in the city for food and water yesterday morning. The first thing we decided was to get only enough to last two or three days, since Teng had informed us that the choppers would be bringing supplies as well. However, with the number of mouths to feed, that still meant a considerable amount of supplies. Next came the matter of who would actually go down into the city. Negi volunteered to go down and then, perhaps a bit naively, asked for volunteers. Teng moved towards Negi, but other than that, there was pin-drop silence in the room. I guess we all learnt another important lesson – that democracy has its limits.

I moved into the room and told people that every single adult would go down to fetch supplies. One of the men, someone I didn’t recognize, grumbled about how families with kids needed more supplies but the kids not going down meant that the families were going to get unfairly advantaged. I stared him down and told him that he was going to be the first man down. I think I shouted louder than I should have, but I was beyond angry.

After all the crap we had endured, I had hoped people would rise above their petty self-interest. I’m no saint, but I know when it’s my turn to bear someone’s burden, simply because there have been times when without others bearing mine, I would have been toast.

The first three trips went without incident, and I had been down twice. When Teng told me that I didn’t need to go down any more, I just shrugged and asked him for a drink.

It seems our resident godman, for all his other issues, had impeccable taste in alcohol. Bharti had a stash of bottles of Jose Cuervo, probably looted from some shop in the city, which I promptly liberated. I felt the tequila burn its way down my throat as I got ready to go back down for a third time. Part of what was driving me was sheer adrenaline – it was a familiar feeling whenever I went into combat. I was buzzed and if there was fighting to be done in the city below, I wanted a part of it.

Negi pulled me aside and told me that I was being crazy, and that I did not have to take on so much responsibility. Here’s a dirty secret in case you get this diary – what Negi mistakes for a sense of responsibility is nothing so noble. I guess the shrinks will have a fancy word for it, but my head’s so messed up with all I’ve been through that I enjoy being in combat, and yes, killing people. It’s hard to admit it, and you can’t see me pausing as I write this, but yes, when I’m in battle it’s the only time I feel like I’m capable of doing something useful. In the old world, I was a failed officer, a failed husband, a failed writer. In this new world we’ve inherited, my writing skills count for nothing. But I can fight, and that matters, perhaps more than any other skill.

Enough catharsis – perhaps it’s just the tequila speaking.

I’ve had three shots after I sat down to write and I’m a bit buzzed. Let me get back to what happened over the last two days.

There were four civilians ahead of me. Well, I guess I should stop using the term ‘civilians’. All of us were now armed, and all of us were workers, cleaners, soldiers, teachers all rolled into one, doing whatever is needed to be done to stay alive. Two of Teng’s soldiers were right behind me and following them came four of Bharti’s former troopers, whom we had not armed yet. We split up into pairs and went into homes, avoiding those that had been marked with red paint, indicating a team had already been in it. I had just announced my triumphant discovery of four packs of biscuits in a house when the first Moreko arrived.

I heard shouting in Chinese and then several shots rang out.

Teng’s men were competent, and if it was a single Moreko who had blundered into our path, then they would get rid of it in short order. When I didn’t hear any more noises for a few seconds, I relaxed and got back to my scavenging.

That was when I heard the growls outside and the unmistakable shuffling sounds of a large number of Moreko on the move. I looked out the window and saw four Moreko just outside, moving towards the four men who had just come out of a building, laden with supplies. One of them took out his pistol – we still hadn’t trained all the civilians in using rifles, so most of them carried pistols – and fired, his shots going wide and enraging the Moreko.

As the Moreko charged them, the men wavered. It was one thing to shoot at a Moreko from long distance, quite another to see them a few feet away. I had my rifle at my shoulder, but before I could fire, someone pushed a table out of an adjoining building, right into the advancing Moreko.

Two of the Moreko were swept aside by the heavy table that had just come barreling into their flanks, and as they struggled to regain their footing, the four civilians opened up with their pistols, destroying both the Moreko. The two remaining Moreko had turned to attack whoever had stopped their charge with the table, and I fired, hitting one of them in the head and dropping him.

The other Moreko turned to look at me. As far as Moreko go, he wasn’t all that bad-looking. No limbs missing, no body parts of victims sticking to his clothes, no fresh blood all over his shirt. I knelt and added a single bullet hole to his head to complement his good looks.

That was when I got my first look at the men who had saved the four civilians. Two of Bharti’s former troopers. Imagine that – unarmed men taking on Moreko to help those who were in effect their captors. This new world brings out the worst in a lot of people, but it sometimes gives you hope that we as a race are capable of doing something more than screwing up our world.

The man whom I had seen push the table out was called Ashok and I threw him my handgun. He had done quite enough to earn my trust.

The four Moreko were only the first of many more we were to see that day. While I won’t bore you with all the details, we didn’t lose anyone, and we managed to get a lot of supplies up – including toilet paper. As you probably know only too well by now, when the world as we know it ends, a roll of toilet paper is worth more than its weight in gold. Oh yes, we also met dozens of Moreko, but they came in small groups, and we dealt with them fairly easily.

I went out a total of seven times, which caused Teng to call me battle-crazy. I think he meant it as a joke or a compliment, but I think he’s closer to the truth than he knows. My whole body hurt and I could barely walk when I was done. Negi threatened to shoot me if I went down again. I think I’m rubbing off on him.

Day 157. Comrade Zhu.

The chopper arrived around noon, and to be honest, none of us had bargained for how much of an effort we’d have to make to accommodate our new guests. It soon became a bit of a comedy of errors, though none of us were laughing.

The moment we saw the huge chopper bearing down on us, we knew there was no way it could land on the helipad with the old Cheetah parked there where it had been left by Bharti’s men. It may have been officially classified as a ‘light’ helicopter, but there’s nothing light about a chopper that weighs close to a ton when you have nothing but muscle power and ropes, since the only qualified pilots had died in the fighting. It took us half an hour to budge it, and all of us were panting and sweating despite the cold when the general’s chopper landed.

Comrade General Zhu is the kind of man I develop an instant dislike for – he’s way too smug, wears rows of military ribbons as if he’s out in a ceremonial parade, and insists on talking through an interpreter, though I’m quite sure he understands English. I learned the last bit when I asked Negi where the medal-wearing sloth was, and then turned to see the General behind me, giving me a dirty glare. As you can see, I’m at my usual sparkling best when it comes to making friends and influencing people.

Anyways, the general’s been debriefing with Teng all morning and he wants to meet us over dinner. I wonder what he has in mind. The rest of the gang is excited at meeting him – there’s something about human psychology that makes us instantly look up to and obey authority figures. Throw in a new uniform and medals, and you can’t go wrong. Negi and I had a brief chat, and he must have seen the skepticism in my eyes, and he’s just asking me to keep an open mind. Fair enough.

Day 158. No such thing as a free lunch.

After dinner, everybody gathered in the living room, and there were so many of us there that we finally agreed to hold the gathering in the front lawn, after lighting a couple of small campfires to keep warm.

Comrade Zhu was looking quite pleased, and his cheeks were tinged pink. Whether that was due to the cold or the tequila I had seen him drinking I couldn’t tell. Teng was standing next to him, and when he looked at me, I knew something was wrong.

Then Zhu began speaking, with Teng interpreting for us. He spoke a lot, and I got the distinct feeling that Teng was giving us the condensed version, because Zhu would launch into rapid-fire Mandarin for a couple of minutes and then Teng would say, ‘I am very happy to be here.’

Anyways, the platitudes continued for several minutes and I began to get the feeling that Comrade Zhu may have been better suited to be a politician than to be a soldier. Then he got to the crux of his whole long-winded proposal. It was simple really – he wanted us to go to Tibet, where he claimed his forces were still holding back the undead, and help make a fresh start.

Someone in the crowd began clapping and then many others joined in. I couldn’t blame them – after months of living in Bharti’s camp as slaves, and fighting to survive the Moreko in the forests and hills, Zhu’s offer must have seemed irresistible. A return to some semblance of security and order, with someone legitimate in charge (I do envy Zhu his uniform and medals), and the hope of living in a civilized society again. Zhu asked us to think it over and to let him know the next morning.

When everyone retired for the night, I sought Teng out and asked him what the catch was. Teng may be a good soldier but he is a terrible liar so it was useless for him to pretend he had no idea what I was talking about.

So he told me what had happened in Tibet after he and his men were sent over on their patrol.

Another general, supposedly someone senior to Zhu, had survived with some of his troops, and had proclaimed that he was now the leader of the Communist Party of China and the legitimate ruler of whatever remained of China. The two generals were locked in a struggle for control over Tibet and even as we spoke, their forces were pounding each other. The only reason Zhu was here was that he was desperate for manpower. We were to be drafted into his army.

Teng was pissed off. He had actually believed that his brief was a humanitarian mission – to find survivors and bring them to safety – and he had been young and naïve enough to take his orders at face value.

As I go to bed, I am crystal clear in my own mind. There is no way I am going to serve as cannon fodder for Zhu. I really don’t get it – why do men like him insist on fighting over what little remains of our planet?

After all we have lost, don’t they understand that there is no point in shedding blood over worthless rocks, hills and pieces of land?

I know how I feel – but I have no idea what my other companions will do. Being alone doesn’t bother me. If it comes to it, I’ll just go back to sitting in this bungalow alone, like I used to.

Day 159.

Farewells.

Zhu left in his chopper soon after breakfast along with most of Teng’s troops and another one just came in to pick up those who want to go.

With the number of people who have signed up to join him in Tibet, they will probably require another two sorties. The fact that he’s burning so much fuel to get people there speaks a lot to both how desperate he is for manpower and also just how devastated even Tibet must be. If it is really is untouched, he should not have to venture three hundred kilometers out to find volunteers.

Zhu also asked for our Cheetah helicopter, presumably since it could be jury-rigged to use as a gunship more effectively than the bulky transport helicopters he has. I agreed to it, not because I have any desire to help him in his war, but because it was a good deal in terms of what we got in return, which comprised of several tanks of fuel for our generator, supplies of drinking water and canned food and a fresh stock of assault rifles and ammunition.

Initially I was a bit disappointed when more than half our people chose to go with Zhu, even after I got Teng to disclose the full story.

Honestly, though, I can’t blame them. Pratik was one of those who chose to leave, and even though he’s a virtual stranger, with all that we’ve been through together, he choked up when he boarded the helicopter. He spoke to me before leaving, and though I told him that he owed no explanations to anyone, he insisted on thanking me for all I had done for them. He said that while life in Zhu’s domain might not be perfect, a lot of them just wanted some order, someone to take care of the basics of food and security, instead of having to scavenge for necessities every day. I can empathize, but I don’t think that way. If I have to fight, I may as well fight my own battles. If I have to find freedom and security, let it be on my terms.

When Teng left, we shook hands, and then in a spontaneous gesture that probably surprised both of us, we hugged. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, but he is a good soldier, and a good man. I asked him to stay, but he’s young enough to believe that he still has a duty towards an army, a uniform and a nation which mean nothing in our new world. So he will serve Zhu and whatever form the new Chinese government takes.

So now, it’s just the fifty of us here, including fifteen of Bharti’s troopers led by Ashok and six families with a total of eleven kids. I’m glad Negi chose to stay here. We’re on our own now, and I’ll need all the help I can get to keep us alive.