Episode 105.3 - Life, Death, and Civil Rights

“Good evening, Survivors! It’s your buddy Nate, and thaaaat’s right, if you can hear my voice, you are officially a survivor. Unofficial numbers list human casualties -- that’s deaths, folks -- at somewhere close to 30 million in the US alone. Taken by surprise by the packs of roaming clones. Close to two thousand dead or missing in our listening area. That’s, of course, so far. In more dense areas, casualties are much, much higher. And none of these numbers are counting the clones we’ve managed to kill in the meantime.

“On that note, the Federal Government has issued an official statement. Here’s the gist: if you are managing to kill our silver-clad friends, stop it! Self defense is still self defense, but until we can get a handle on their civil rights status -- I’m not making this up -- the President says indiscriminate killing of the clones is tantamount to genocide and will not be tolerated.

“I suppose he has a point. After all, they didn’t ask to be created. They didn’t ask to be let out. What we have here is the very definition of lying in the bed we’ve made for ourselves. God help us.

“Lord, now I’m depressed. Here’s some AC/DC. I need a beer.”

Episode 105.2 - Echoes With the Sound of Hammers

Brad wiped the sweat from his brow with his non-hammering arm. He’d been at it -- along with the rest of the town -- for nearly a full day now, everyone doing what they could to secure The Forks against what they knew was sure to be an onslaught of first refugees and then the silver-tinted clones which had been terrorizing the southern part of the state.  

All had seemed to agree at last night’s meeting that, while they couldn’t quite justify an end to Business As Usual, preparations just made good sense. A good portion of the morning was filled with the sound of chainsaws in the nearby woods, felling trees for use in beefing up perimeter fences, in many cases even linking several together toward the outer edge of town. The plan -- the hope -- was to limit and control access into The Forks. Ultimately, between logs and cars, when the time came only a single road would be opened into the town, and that only when the citizens decided to open it.

For the Tompkins family, the task was to add further security to Teardrop Island, the little patch of land between the rivers, upon which sat the Tompkins Family Farm. This would, along with the couple other, larger farms in the area, prove to be a major food supply if the crisis outlasted the projected timeframe. It would also become a more secure fortress should the walls of The Forks become breached to the point of complete failure. It wasn’t a scenario anyone wanted to further contemplate.

Brad inhaled deeply, his ears filling with the echoes of hammers and saws all around his little town, and got back to work.

Episode 105.1 - Aftermath

The forest is awash in blood and silence.

Episode 104.4 - Rest Stop

“I have to pee.”

The kid -- Andre -- has been squirming for a while now. I’d been wondering whether he was going to let us know or just go in his pants and face the consequences.

I say, “didn’t you go at the apartment?”

“Yeah. I have to go AGAIN.”

“He has to go a LOT,” says Keisha. “Mom says his bladder is the size of a chickpea.”

I chuckle. It’s a while since I last had to deal with kids. My sister and her brood live about 700 miles west, of here, in Utah. Thinking of my kid sister and my nephews gives me the shivers, so I stop. “Sure, kiddo. Pick a tree.”

Come to think of it, it’s been a while since we started out, and a look at my watch confirms it: suppertime.

“We can sit here for a few, have a quick bite, but then we have to get going. Gonna get dark soon, and we’re gonna need to find some shelter.”

Keisha nods, understanding. Planning, maybe. She’s a smart kid, this one. It’s only been a few hours, but I can already tell. “What do we have,” she says.

“For tonight, it’s--.” I’m cut short by a scream from behind one of the trees. Andre.

I’m up in less than a second, pistol at the ready, and moving in before I remember the girl. I hold my hand up. “Stay back,” I whisper.

A few more steps and I’m around the cluster of trees. Andre is unhurt, but looks frightened. Is frightened -- looks like he didn’t make it in time after all. I follow his unblinking stare to see a male clone, mouth opened, and snarling. I have time to register the blood smeared on the silver suit in a pattern that looks an awful lot like a handprint -- and then the thing is on us.

Episode 104.3 - This Just In

“Walt!” Zach wandered the hall of the station, his ever-present cup of coffee steaming and sloshing dangerously with each step. “Walter!”

He found his newsman huddled into a dark corner, hands clasped in urgent prayer. Zach considered letting him keep going, but knew, Jesus or not, his friend would never forgive him. So he got closer, enough to feel the praying man’s breath against his face, and said in his deepest and most holy baritone, “Well, I suppose.”

Walt looked up, startled, and furrowed his brow. “Not funny.”

Zach shrugged. “No, seriously. Guess it worked. God or somebody found your kids. They’re on the pho--.”

“Sorry!” Walt called the apology back to his friend, having knocked him -- and his coffee -- backwards as he rushed for the telephone.

Walter came back moments later and handed Zach a towel. “I really am sorry about that,” he said.

“Ah, I probably deserved it. How’re the kids.”

“Shaken. They’re getting some rest, and then they’re headed this way. The guy said --”

“What guy?”

“Long story. The guy --”

“You’re a bad news man, you know that?”

“Look, things went south. It’s worse out there than we can even imagine. The kids had to run for their lives, and knocked on a stranger’s door. Not usually the course of action I’d condone, but all things considered, well, whatever. Point is, they found a nice man. They’re safe and resting, and then he’ll try to get them out of the city. It’s not safe there, and he doesn’t have the supplies to keep three people fed and holed up in his apartment.”

“So…”

“So, for now they’re safe. I’ll be heading out to get them if I can, but the guy says the city’s jammed, so he’s got to get them out and we’ll meet somewhere else. Zach?”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s not really your thing, but pray, would you?”

Episode 104.2 - 5 Hours Earlier

Keisha held her breath and her brother’s hand.

They hadn’t heard from their Mommy since the school had sent everyone home. The ladies in the office had tried calling her, to no avail. By the time they found their Daddy’s work number, the phone lines were jammed. Too many people calling too many people, said Ms. Kowalski.

Instead, Ms. Kowalski -- “Today, you can call me Jenny,” she’d said -- drove them home. After three blocks, Keisha could see the tears in Ms. Kowalski’s eyes. She turned next to her brother in the back seat and told him to close his own and plug his ears. She did the same, and shut out the horror around her until she felt the car slow to a stop.

When she’d opened her eyes, Keisha saw they were at the hardware store they lived above with their Mommy. Ms. Kowalski was helping the children out of the car when a man stepped from the shadows. The man was completely bald -- even lacking eyebrows -- and wearing a funny silver suit like a second skin. Keisha thought he looked like a lizard. He also looked very, very angry.

Ms. Kowalski had seen the man, too. She knelt down in front of the children, and turned their chins to her. “Keisha. Andre. Go straight to your door. Don’t look.”

“Yes, Ms. Kowalski,” Keisha had said.

“Please. Call me Jenny. Go.”

The strange silver man had lunged and Ms Kowalski had swung around and hit him before he reached the children. They ran to the door as she’d instructed. They heard a wet tear and an inhuman scream they knew had to be their teacher, at the same time they tried the door handle. It was locked. Keisha searched her pockets for the key, and came up empty. By accident, she looked to where her teacher had been and saw her lying on the floor, her head twisted at a funny angle. The strange man in silver was reaching into a hole in Ms. Kowalski’s abdomen.

Keisha looked around her for any sign of hope and saw the apartment building across the street. She’d grabbed her brother’s hand and hadn’t let go until they stood in front an apartment door well inside the building and heard the sound of the door latch.

When she looked into the eyes of the large, kind-looking stranger in the doorway, Keisha fell to her knees, released her brother’s hand, and wept.

Episode 104.1 - The Woods

The woods are quieter than the streets. Most of the people leaving the city are on the road, either locked in their cars and bumper-to-bumper, or else walking to the side. There is greater danger in the crowd, but also cover, after a fashion. The Donors wander in and out among the crowd, their hunger sated, but ready to attack if they feel threatened in any way. Many refugees are armed with whatever they could find: baseball bats, shovels, heavy sticks. Firearms.

There is more than one danger to a crowd of armed and frightened people. First, you never really know, for sure, who you can trust. Some just want to keep themselves and their families safe. Some will help their neighbors if they can. Some will club their neighbors and steal their food. Best to keep the eyes peeled, stay wary of everyone. Keep your distance. Let nobody into your space. The second danger is worse and, now, more likely. If the clones do attack again, the shooting will start. If the shooting starts, innocent people will die. As simple as it is to point a gun and pull a trigger, it is far more complicated to hit what you want to hit.

The children and I are in the woods, and heading away from the road. The darkness here offers its own hazards, but when faced with the threats of the whole of humanity, I’m willing to take my chances.

Episode 103.4 - As The Knob Turns

The doorknob begins to slowly turn, and suddenly I can’t take my eyes off it. Doubt creeps in as my finger tightens around the trigger. Did I lock it? I’d peeked into the hallway once or twice, I know. Did I remember to just flip that little lock? My eyes finally, reluctantly, scan up to the chain. Yes, that at least is in place. My breathing slows as my mind works to force out the panic. The chain is in place. I don’t lock the chain unless I’ve turned the main lock. It’s an order. A system. A pattern.

The panic resolves itself into calculation. The door is locked, but will it hold? The chain is at best an illusion of security depending upon the strength of whoever is standing on the other side of that door. I need to reinforce it. At the very least, it’s the only way in without some serious effort on the part of a would-be intruder. I live three flights up, so as long as I can secure the front door, I should be okay. Should be.

All these thoughts pass through my mind in an instant, and while they do, I register a change in the situation outside my door. The knob is no longer being turned.  There is a knock, small but urgent, and a voice. The voice of a child.

“Hello? Is there anyone in there?” It’s barely above a stage whisper. A girl, I think.

I hold my breath. Independently of my will, my gun hand slowly drops.

“Please. If you’re there. Please help us.”

Episode 103.3 - Broken News

“Authorities in and around metropolitan areas are still advising people stay in their homes if at all possible. The Governor, meanwhile, is the latest to declare a state of emergency and has officially called on Washington for assistance as violence and chaos grow more widespread. This, a mere two days after, presumably, every Cryo-facility in the world experienced inexplicable malfunctions and released billions of medical clones into the population.

“There is still no official word on why these clones have reacted so violently, but some experts are suggesting there may have been a miscalculation in the regular doses of vitamins and steroids used to grow them into their adult states. Others theorize this may have been sabotage from the beginning, planned by whatever forces are responsible for the release itself.

“Authorities have asked that you not use the 911 system to report missing family members, including chil…--.

“Excuse me. To report missing family members, including children, as the service is already dealing with more calls than it can handle at this time. Instead, you are asked to wait until it is safe to leave your home, and file a report with the nearest Police station.

“As for… I… Listen, Keisha, Andre, Daddy needs to know if you’re okay. You stay where you are, you hear me? You stay wherever you are and you lock those doors, and call me here, and I’ll come find you. Call me or… I don’t know… tell me where you are, and Daddy will get you. Stay safe. Daddy will find you.

“...

“This is Walt Davis, Zombie Radio Morning News.”

Episode 103.2 - Don't Need to be a Weatherman

“You realize, of course, that refugees are going to start moving north.” George Tomkins stood in front of the mayor and town council to offer his assessment of the situation. Mayor Greg Cutler had called an emergency town meeting, like mayors had or would across the country, to gauge his constituents’ moods on the situation and start to formulate a plan of action. Paul, watching his father speak to the council, figured you had to hand it to the Mayor: he may not like him or agree with him, but at least the guy took his responsibility seriously.

“Why not south?” The Mayor asked. “Or East or West for that matter?”

George nodded toward the state map on the wall. “Take a look. To the East, ocean. To the South and West, larger cities. It’s simple physics, Mr. Mayor. Matter takes the path of least resistance. We have space, and people in general know that to be true. If they’re fleeing danger, they’re going to head to where that danger is least likely to occur.”

“Well, sure.” Councilwoman Barbara Halliday said from the Mayor’s left. “That only makes sense. But the nearest Cryo facility is, what, 50 miles from here?”

George grabbed a pointer off the head table, his eyes asking for permission to use it. When the Mayor nodded his assent, George walked to the map he’d indicated and pointed to a city 200 miles south. “You live here,” he said, “when everything starts happening. Where do you go?”  

“North,” said the Councilwoman.

“Right. So these, say, 300,000 people head north. And you live...” he pointed to a spot a hundred miles north of the first. “Here. Now you have all those clones. All those Donors causing havoc, and 300,000 people starting to head your way. “Now what?”

“North.”

“Indeed. And here?” The nearest city to The Forks was indeed about 57 miles away. A short distance when it came down to it, Paul thought. Too short.

Councilwoman Halliday swallowed hard, as realization dawned. It was one thing to know something on a cerebral level. But to begin to fully understand it... for the first time since the President’s announcement the day before, she was really frightened.

“North,” she said.

Episode 103.1 - Murphy's Law

In a dark room, United States Representative Jackson Murphy sat alone, a bottle of whiskey -- the good stuff -- at his left hand; a Smith & Wesson .357 revolver in his right. Not that he knew, or cared, what the calibre of the handgun actually was, as long as the bullets fit. And he knew they would; he stole them when he stole the gun.

The truth was, Jackson Murphy hated firearms; they were more up the alley of his old rival and golfing buddy Tom Starks. Tom had shown Jackson this particular weapon with pride, and the Congressman was honestly sorry to have stolen it. He’d add it to his lengthening list of sins.

He poured another finger of whiskey. Then another. Then he forgot about fingers altogether and filled the glass. Outside, the chaos was just beginning. As the folk singer said, it didn’t take a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. The situation would decay before it got better. The cloned organ donors -- once a great personal triumph for Murphy -- would continue in violence for a while. They would settle down once they had a good meal, but would never cease to be dangerous. Worse than that, the entire population of the country had just doubled in a single day, and half of these new citizens were completely without any sense of law and order, of morality, of anything other than their own needs, wants, and fears.

And, when it came right down to it, the Congressman couldn’t help but feel more than a little responsible for it all. When the so-called Donor Laws were passed as an amendment to the Health Care Act, he and his comrades had celebrated. No longer would American citizens have to wait on a long list for needed organ transplants. No longer would they have to hope and pray a match could be found while they were still alive. Thanks to Congress and the President, people would soon be able to find a lab-grown organ donor all of their own. They had finally caught up to European medicine, and were finally making the use of American ingenuity that those in England, France, Germany, parts of Asia and the Middle East were already enjoying.

The Donor Law. The Murphy Act, actually. His legislation. He hadn’t merely cosponsored the bill. He had written it. It was his legacy. His gift to the American people.  Congressman Jackson Murphy, tears in his eyes, took another swift drink of the whiskey before setting down the glass for the last time. He hadn’t prepared a note or an explanation. People would understand.

And indeed, when the news came that Jackson Murphy, US Congressman and author of the Donor Law, had been found dead in his hotel room of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, nobody hiding in their homes, televisions turned down to avoid attracting undue attention, was really surprised.