At first I didn’t understand how it had happened. How had the men gotten out of range so quickly?

Then I had the implant replay the last few moments and watched the map. The ability to replay their positions was something else I had discovered the implant could do mid fight.

The men reached the central region where the vehicles were and then a yellow dot and the red dot winked out. A moment later the rest of the yellow were gone.

They weren’t exactly close to the cages, but obviously close enough to be within range of the rifles.

I replayed it again, unsure how I felt about not being the one to kill the red dot.

I’d felt something as we tried to kill each other. A back and forth that I imagined he felt as well, though now I’d never get to ask him.

I didn’t care.

I walked around the corner and started toward the central area. Piles of different gear were stacked and covered with canvas tarps.

It occurred to me only now how much stuff was here. How many settlements did they raid to collect all of this.

And perhaps more importantly where was it all going?

There was a gunshot but when I dropped into a crouch working to lift the rifle up as I looked around, I saw that there was a struggle within the closest cage.

Moments later there were shouted whispers and guns were visibly lowered or pointed elsewhere.

I suddenly realized they might try to kill me if they saw my eye color or the metallic coating of my teeth.

I squinted as I moved forward, lifting a hand to return a wave.

There were questions again, whispered and urgent.

I slowed when I saw the bodies. Not the two closest to the cage I’d killed earlier, but the small cluster further on.

I moved around a stack of items and set the rifle down.

I took the pistol out as I approached.

Only one man had a head still fully intact and I put a bullet in it. While there was still a hunger for implants there were other priorities.

The huge red gun was obvious, even if it didn’t exactly look like a gun. I pulled it off the body and ducked under the wide padded strap. It was far to heavy to lift with one hand.

The man had a belt and holster with a pistol. I pulled the pistol out. It was sleek and compact and looked more deadly than any of the others I’d seen even though the hole in the barrel was tiny.

I got the belt, holster, and accompanying weapon off the body but couldn’t get the belt on with only one arm.

I approached the cage, head down and eyes squinting the belt hanging from my hand.

When I reached the cage I turned around putting my back to the armed people who might kill me.

“There are three more,” I said, “they each have some sort of vehicle that only holds one person. They went north yesterday and haven’t returned yet.”

“The motorcycles?” someone asked. Their accent was thick but I put the words together.

“I don’t know what that is,” I said. I was disturbed to find that my speech patterns had changed so that I sounded more like he sounded. I hadn’t meant to do that.

There was a brief wave of whispered questions all overlapping until someone shushed them all down.

“We had people- women and girls they took. Did you-”

“They are all dead,” I said.

There were more noises but no more questions.

“I’ll be back,” I said as I walked towards the front of the vehicle, headed to number four and the charging station.

The body I’d eaten before while charging was still there. I put it to use again.

I was somehow still thirsty and found myself pressing my face into the puddle I’d dug out earlier.

Even when my Energy Reserves were full I stayed there. The eating had been mechanical in nature, but there was a hunger that needed filling.

I avoided the cages, instead circling around to the various places where I hadn’t had time to loot the bodies or split the skulls open and harvest the implants.

I found another wide brimmed hat, this one fancier and rimmed with teeth, six of which were upright metallic fangs that could have been mine.

I ended up cutting and tearing a shirt up to make a scarf, which was still difficult to wrap without the full mobility of my left arm.

The rail gun was massive, heavy, and unwieldy. It was also the least gun-looking gun I’d yet to see. I should have left it with the belt and pistol I left near vehicle 4.

It seemed that crates and items in buildings were more expensive, edible, or alcoholic while those outside were bulky items, lumber, or otherwise impervious to the elements.

I made a makeshift sled out of a canvas tarp and hauled food in tins and silver foil packs out between the cages.

Again there were too many questions to follow until someone shut everyone up.

“Food’s good, but how are you going to get us out of these cages? If they see us with weapons or the dead- we can’t escape.”

“I haven’t figured that out,” I lied. I hadn’t yet really considered it. I thought about them, but only from a perspective of what they immediately needed. It had rained a lot so I felt like they likely weren’t thirsty, and then I found the food and it seemed like the thing to do was bring it to them.

“That rail gun will make easy work-” someone began.

“Do not!” someone else interrupted, “the metal may fragment and-”

They all talked over each other as I kept my eyes down and squinting while handing food up to waiting hands. It didn’t matter anyway. I hadn’t yet figured out how to get the rail gun to do anything. Currently it was just a big heavy rectangle.

“There might be a cutting torch,” I said after a while.

Suddenly everyone was excited.

I left.

At first I wandered. The stacks of crates tended to have the same theme. Wool yarn, crates of thread, bolts of cloth, and crates of rags were all together.

Shovels, metal rods, weird blades that might be weapons or plows or both, were altogether.

Root vegetables.

Lumber.

Rugs.

Solar panels.

Long loops of wires.

Light bulbs. So many light bulbs.

Eventually I found a building with chains and locks and boarded up windows. I’d left eh rail gun at the charging area. I’d picked up a few tools. Mostly I used a crowbar and a hammer.

I smashed the hinges apart and opened the door.

An explosion knocked me down and sapped the breath from my lungs. I got free of the door and saw the other side had bits of nail and other metal scrap implanted into it.

I limped into the room, wary of more traps.

Inside were weapons sorted by ammo type.

I eventually found the cutting torches in the obvious place.

Vehicle 4’s trailer.

Of course they needed cutting torches while stripping settlements of their valuables.

I found a pair of welding goggles with the welding machines in the same long trailer that housed the battery cabinets and all manner of tools. The dark lenses could be flipped up to reveal a second set of clear lenses. I wiped a bit of grease on those to help hid my eyes.

The cart was was awkward to drag but the tubes didn’t extend too far from the two tanks.

Eventually we got it in place and then managed to get it lit. I adjusted the flame like the old man in the cage instructed.

Then it was just a matter of holding it in the same spot until the metal gave way.

The old man took over the task for the second cage as most of the people from the first cage stood around with no clear direction of what to do.

When the second door fell open everyone cheered.

They very carefully exited. They avoided the still hot sides as men helped them down to the ground as there was no ramp.

In a short period of time I found I was surrounded by a gray haired women and men, and a man with no hair on his head at all.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Most of the people in cages were women, the men I saw were old, or very young.

“What’s the plan?” one of the old men asked.

I scratched at my still healing shoulder and looked out over the crowd. Almost everyone was shorter than I was. Some significantly so.

One of the old men was staring at me.

I’d smeared grease across the clear lenses of the goggles, but I looked away from him in case that hadn’t been enough.

I found myself looking at the three tall poles with a platform on top.

“There are three, um, motorcycles,” I said recalling the word someone else had said.

“They went north, they will be back. We should put shooters on the platforms.”

“Shooters on the platforms,” one of the old men repeated as if to himself.

“On the platforms,” another said, “and ready to ambush them at the main gate.”

“Listen up!” one of the old women called out. The noise died instantly.

“Whose good with a rifle?” she began.

One of the old men was asking where I got the food from.

“Are we staying here?” someone asked.

I started walking. Some of the people began to follow while others continued to give orders about who should get rifles and who would go wait at the gate.

I arrived at vehicle 4’s trailer and there were still people following.

I turned around and the people circled around me.

“We need to figure out food and water and where we are.”

“Do you not have maps?” I asked.

“They left us with our clothing, but nothing else,” one of the older women said.

I brought up the map and zoomed out.

There were only ruins in the revealed parts of the map.

“This looks like a staging ground,” one of the old men said.

“I’ve seen these types of vehicles before. Smelled that sort of exhaust,” he said indicating the first vehicle that was still running, “these are long range petrol engines meant to run where the rads are high enough to kill the electronics in the ‘lectric motors-”

“You asked to be alerted when then three IDs reentered the local feed,” the feminine voice of the implant said.

Shots from the elevated towers and then faster shots from near the gate seemed to drown out the second half of what she was saying. But because the words were in my head I heard them clearly.

I changed over to my map. Then mumbled to myself to get the system replay the last few seconds.

Three dots.

Now only one.

There were a lot more shots than one person could-

The yellow dot disappeared.

I dismissed the map.

The shots slowed and then stopped.

The people standing around me slowly turned back to me.

“We need to take inventory and then-”

I lifted a hand and the words stopped.

“I need to rest,” I said.

Someone nodded, and seemed to take note of my damaged jacket.

“Oh my!” she said suddenly, “we can get a healer to look you over.”

“No,” I said.

She was reaching out to touch my shoulder but I slapped her hand.

She winced and pulled her hand back tucking it near her body as she stepped back. One of the men stepped in front of her his eyes wide and his hands doing something before they settled near his side.

“Come along,” one of the other men said, “we all know we have work to do. Let’s get started, we won’t get this daylight back.”

Even though he got the rest of them moving the man didn’t leave. A few of the others looked back, but they continued walking.

“You need a healer,” he said, “and I’ve seen just about everything on the road.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Whatever face you’re hiding under the scarf and goggles, there is no need. It doesn’t matter what crime, real or imagined, got you on a poster or got you branded or tattooed. Not a one of these people will be scared of you, not after what you’ve done for us.”

“The last time I showed my face people tried to kill me,” I said.

“Not us. Not anymore,” he said, “We were all of us dead, or worse, and every single one of us knows who we owe our lives to.”

“I would rather err on the side of caution,” I said.

He shook his head then let out a sigh.

“Will you let look at your wounds? I swear by the nine gods and my hope of rebirth and salvation I’ll not speak of anything I see here, and that my only intention is to help.”

“Is that a powerful oath?” I asked. It had sounded meaningful.

“The most powerful I can give,” he said seriously.

I sighed.

My shoulder still burned with healing fire, but I couldn’t yet move the arm.

I took off the goggles and met the man’s eyes.

He inhaled sharply and then stared at my teeth after I pulled down the scarf.

“Any-” he began then swallowed, “Any chance you’re in one of those devil worshiping gangs?”

“I’m not in a gang.”

“I was wrong,” he said slowly. He was leaning against the vehicle and breathing deeply now.

“Keep the scarf and goggles on. People will-” he inhaled again and let the breath out in a long stream.

“People will not understand.”

I wrapped my face with the scarf and then worked at putting the goggles back on.

He was still breathing hard as I began to struggle out of the jacket.

He stepped forward to help, but his hands shook.

I didn’t have a shirt on under the jacket. The shoulder was scabbed over and swollen. There were still raw scars across my chest and stab wounds covering my ribs. Some of which were still sore from the trapped door.

“What the hells-” he gasped, “how are you alive?”

He clapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though I didn’t understand why he was saying that.

“Gods be praised,” someone said, “I thought I wouldn’t find you.”

It was a woman and she started out looking at the old man but her eyes shifted to me.

“Jan- Jan!” the old man snapped drawing her eyes back to him.

“What?” he asked when she was looking at him.

“We need to get everyone together,” she said, “most of them are back in the cages already but-”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Zombies,” she whispered.

“Where?” he said, “We need to organize-”

“Already here,” she whispered.

“Here?” he started to look at me but then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Turning her as he stepped around and away from me.

“People saw them?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered, “but the dead, they’ve had their heads split open and their brains eaten.”

The old man looked over her shoulder at me.

“I’ll- uh-” he began.

“We were told to get everyone back in the cages.”

He nodded, “that makes sense. Get them in, get them accounted for. I’ll stay with uh, um-”

“What is your name?” Jan asked turning to look at me over her shoulder.

“Pete,” I said.

She pressed thumbs together and then pressed them into her chest, head and finally kissed them.

“It’s a common enough name outside the heartland,” the old man said.

“Get back to the cages. We will make sure it is safe.”

“But I was told-” she said turning to look at me, her eyes dropping to study the torn flesh of my chest.

“Jan,” he said physically turning her head so she looked at him.

“I have to sew some flesh up here, and then we will make sure eveyrone is safe.”

“But-”

“Jan,” he said quickly, “he just killed hundreds of raiders in a night. Zombies are nothing.”

She started to turn back but he put his hand on the side of her face and then slide it to the back of her neck as he pulled her along beside him while he walked.

“Go back. Make sure everyone is accounted for. Once they are have them fire three times.”

“What?”

“Three times when everyone is in the cages.”

“Three times,” she repeated as he stopped and she continued around the corner.

He looked at me for a solid three seconds before coming back.

“Why do they want to kill me?” I asked.

His jaw dropped a bit but he closed it.

“Come on we’ll get you sew up and then-”

We’d moved forward enough toward the corner that his eyes found the body of the man, or what was left of the body of the man I’d mostly eaten while charging.

“Did you-” he shook his head but couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away.

I reached between the flat metal planks to pull the loose wires back out. I pushed the edge of the pants down until they were under the port. They caught on it but I was able to push the wires in one handed.

I sat down.

He squatted near me, glancing only once at the weapons belt and the pistol it contained laying on the ground near him.

When he looked up he met my eyes for only a moment before turning away.

“Why do they want to kill me?” I asked again.

He let out a long sigh. He very slowly pushed the weapon belt closer to me as he turned around and sat, his back against the lower trailer.

“You’re not human,” he said slowly. Then he looked at me, “Are you?”

“I assumed I was,” I said slowly.

“I appear to be human.”

He reached towards me and indicated the charging port with an open palm.

I looked down at it then at him.

“It’s not permanent,” I said, “I can break it down?”

“Break it down?”

“Make it go away,” I said.

I tongued the holes where my teeth should be. Still empty.

“Humans don’t have that,” he said seriously, “we don’t survive wounds like those, or eat the brains of the dead.”

“Eat the brains-” I said slowly.

“That wasn’t you?” he asked quickly.

“It was,” I said, “but it wasn’t to eat the brains.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It was to eat the implants.”

“Oh,” he said slowly, “the implants. You see how that might be worse right?”

“No.”

“No,” he repeated before tipping his head back and resting it on the trailer’s metal.

Silence stretched for a while and eventually he spoke.

“When the world ended in nuclear fire humanity survived in pockets, caves, bunkers, and areas unaffected by the radiation. Then the dead came in waves. Even if humanity avoided the dead, the dead ate everything in their path. They were worst than locusts. Worse than locusts, because they could kill humans as well as cause them to starve.

“Humanity was scattered and starving. Some survived long enough that the zombies starved to death. A percent of a percent of a percent survived. But their knowledge did not. There were factories and printers that could make anything you could imagine, yet the survivors lacked the knowledge to work such devices or the equipment to power them. The dark ages began and history has no guess at how many years they lasted.

“Then the gods blessed us. Babies were born who could speak to the system. Suddenly there was currency that could not be stolen or faked. As the grew they were given holy tasks. Power was restored to some printers and items were collected for recycling. The printers printed settlement systems, large metal eggs, that could be transported and then set up.

“The eggs were distributed across the ruined lands. Once placed and activated the eggs requested scrap. The generation that could hear the demands and followed the divine orders were rewarded with settlement systems. Solar panels, skills and training, holy tasks and divine rewards. The wastelands were clawed back from the monsters and humanity began to thrive.

“In time every child developed a holy link to the system and humanity began to flourish. Not sitting idle the devils in their hells created new, faster zombies. The gods provided protection in the form of weapons. The devils created disease, and the gods countered with auto-docs. Then the devils created the twelve.”

He rolled his head to look at me. I blinked at him and his eyes dropped. Then he sat up pulling his head away from the metal to stare at my chest.

He met my eye and I realized that with excess power the non-critical surface damage was healing quickly.

“You’re one of the twelve,” he said, “Pete Redstone.”

“That is my name,” I said slowly surprised he knew my second name.

“You’re a zombie,” he said, “you can’t die, and even if you do there are thousands of you. Tens of thousands.”

“Of me?” I asked.

He shrugged. “They don’t look like you. Are you newly arrived?”

“Arrived?”

“You look well fed, healthy. Zombies always look thin, like they are days from starvation.”

“I think,” I said slowly, “I was a zombie. I think they kept me on a wall to protect a settlement, or maybe to frighten others. Then the raiders came and something went wrong. Then there were a lot of dead to feed upon.”

He did the thing with his thumbs and whispered something.

Three shots rang out indicating the others had all returned to the cages.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered.

“So they want to kill me because I can’t die?” I asked.

“Because your purpose is to kill us.”

“Is it?” I asked.

He swept an arm around and stopped pointing at what remained of the corpse.

“I only killed animals to eat, something humans do, until people tried to kill me. These people did kill me. They pulled my teeth out and took my eyes.”

“And us?” he asked.

“You haven’t tried to kill me yet,” I said.

The laugh he produced was bitter and short.

“Ha haha.”

Silence stretched between us.

“What is it you want?” he asked.

“To eat.”

“Brain? Implants? Is that what you need to survive?”

“No. Food. When I’m injured meat, organs, sometimes bone. I prefer deer and birds.”

“You want to eat?” he asked.

“Yes. I enjoy eating. And learning,” I said, “I like learning, but sometimes things are very confusing.”

“Anything else you want?”

“There were boxes in one of the buildings. They made noises. Many together that,” I was rocking side to side.

“Music?” he asked, “speakers playing music?”

“Music?” I said, “I think I want to listen to that again.”

“How quickly will you heal?” he asked.

“All the fatal damaged is healed. The rest will scab up and fall off and fresh skin will be beneath.”

“No scars?”

“Not when it’s finished.”

“Are you made of metal, like the robots?”

“Metal? No. Flesh. Blood. Bone.”

“Me too,” he said. Another bitter laugh followed.

Silence stretched.

“Do you know how to use that weapon?”

“The rail gun?” he asked, “I suppose you point it at what you want dead and pull the trigger.”

He stared at it without moving for a while.

“You have to charge it as well, though I don’t know the power requirements.”

“Don’t you just plug wires in?”

He looked at me, “No.”