Empire's End

Three / Normal

More than five months had passed since the exodus from Jefferson Harbor, and Voorhees still didn’t know what had become of Lily.

As he boarded a bus on the outskirts of Chicago, someone caught his arm. It was Killian, a young officer he’d met during his orientation. “I found her,” Killian said.

They got a seat together near the back and waited until the bus got moving. “I can’t believe buses run between the cities like this,” Voorhees muttered. “All those miles of lonely highway…”

“And not a rotter to be seen,” Killian said. She nudged his arm and smiled. “So, do you want to know where your girl is or not?”

“She’s not my girl.” Voorhees frowned out the window. “I don’t know if I want to know. She was the last living citizen of the Harbor… I was supposed to protect them all, and I got one little girl out. Then she’s taken from me the second we enter the Wall. Who knows what’s happened.”

“Well, do you want me to tell you? It’s nothing bad, Voorhees.”

“Tell me.”

“She’s in Gaylen, the same city where we’re headed. A young couple took her in. They’re seeking permanent custody.”

Voorhees let out a long, tired sigh. “So she’s safe, then.”

“She’s safe.”

“Now I can start worrying about what’s going to happen to me.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got your back.”

“You’re half my age.”

“Really? I didn’t think you were that old.” Killian smiled again, leaning toward him. “It’s a joke, Voorhees. When’s the last time you had a laugh?”

“I don’t remember what my laugh sounds like,” he replied.

She saw he wasn’t kidding and whistled. “That’s gotta change. You’re okay now. You’ve come a long way from that place. You’re in the Great Cities now — and you’re gonna be a real cop again. Did they not mention that to you, repeatedly? You’re gonna be a Gaylen P.O. — of course that means Peace Officer here, not Patrol Officer — but it’s the same thing.”

“I was a senior officer in the Harbor.”

“Nothing I can do about that, buddy.” Killian patted his arm. “Look at it this way. Being a beat cop means less time filling out reports and more time doing the job.”

“Paperwork is the job—”

“Oh, you’re hopeless.” Turning from him, Killian stared ahead. Feeling guilty, Voorhees tried to think of something to say. “Hey, I’ll be getting paid again. That’ll be nice.”

“Social Services explains in orientation that you earn credits, but what they don’t tell you is that, as a P.O., you don’t have to pay for everything like the rest. Explaining that is my job.” She had been in the Great Cities for a year, and had only been in Chicago to help run orientation. With a sideways glance toward the other passengers, Killian slipped a card from within her jacket and handed it to Voorhees. “It’s a forever pass for medical services. Any hospital, any time. Everyone else has to spend their credits on day passes and hope that the line for the doctor isn’t too long.”

“What about emergencies?”

“They still bill people’s accounts. Costs a lot more too. But not for you.”

“How many emergencies do you think go unreported as a result of that?” he asked.

“People can afford medical care, it’s not like they’re being paid minimum wage. Hell, minimum wage isn’t even minimum wage anymore. You know full-time parents with multiple kids earn as much as a Senate aide?”

Voorhees pocketed the medical pass. “Any other perks?”

“Discounted food and entertainment. All the food in Gaylen is grown or raised on farms. Beef is expensive as hell.”

“You said entertainment?”

“Sure. You know the live music in Chicago? They do that in Gaylen too. And he rugby teams are always looking for new players if you think you’re up to it. Plays, too, chosen by the Senate. Our city admin, Senator Cullen, writes some himself. Really fucking boring unless you’re stoned, but that costs an arm and a leg—”

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyway, all the P.Os live in the same building, a refurbished hotel on West Avenue. They’ll put you on the top floor. You think it’s a steal but then you find out the heating is shot. Course, they’ll still dock your pay for it”

“Yeah, back to the drugs.”

“C’mon, Voorhees. Everyone needs a break once in a while. It’s just pot.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Do you smoke on the job?”

She glared at him. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

“Which reminds me, Gaylen’s a dry city. We do still have some moonshiners underground but we usually just let that go. Alcohol’s not as much of a problem when no one drives.”

“I was about to ask. These buses travel between cities though. And run on ethanol?”

“Yeah, and so do the generators in town, but the good news is Gaylen’s hydroelectric plant came back online last month. They’ve been working to keep that thing alive for the last fifty years. Not a bad investment. Technology, industry may have stagnated in the last century, but we didn’t. We’re surviving.”

Surviving. That seemed to be enough for most. Voorhees grimaced. “And is the water as clean as Chicago’s?”

“Cleaner.” Killian’s smile had returned. It was probably contagious in most circumstances. Voorhees had forgotten what it felt like to smile. Every waking moment since he’d been born had been a losing war against the undead. Every day was the end of the world. And now he was supposed to believe in this walled paradise, this new Eden, established by the same government who’d left everyone in the badlands to die?

Of course they would say it was one’s own choice to remain in the badlands. But it had been hard to swallow the radio broadcasts about a rotter-free safe zone.

Well, here it is. Right outside your window.

Gaylen, on the southern tip of Lake Michigan. His new home. He tried to focus on that, rather than the nightmares of the past with their strange characters and unanswered questions. He especially tried not to think about the cloaked specter of Death, astride a pale horse, charging into the undead hordes.

Life is normal now, he told himself.

“We celebrate holidays, too,” said Killian. “Halloween is coming up. You know what that is? On that night…”

Voorhees shut his eyes and tried to block out the rest of her words. He tried to think about health benefits and utilities and neighbors but he simply hadn’t been bred for such a life. There was no after the apocalypse in his mind. All they had here was the Wall, and he couldn’t wall out his memories.