Fan Fiction ❯ Unwelcome Hope ❯ Introductions ( Chapter 2 )

Unwelcome Hope

Chapter 1 - Introductions

"I'll tell you, only when you've agreed to help me. I want your word."

The man pondered over it for several minutes before finally nodding, "As long as it gets you out of here quicker. Sure, I'll tell you what you need to know, if I know it. But before we get started, I want to know who I'm dealing with."

The stranger smirked, "…Jonathan will do just fine for now."

"Jonathan, hmm?"

"Look, let's get this over with. You and all your friends don't seem to like me all that much, so I'd be most pleased if I could get this over with as soon as possible."

"Fine. Now what do you want?" the bartender asked, leaning forward on the table.

"A drink to start."

The man stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Jonathan could see age in the man's eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had been through it, as they all had. However, signs of aging were not limited to his eyes. A pair of crow's feet sat at the corner of his eyes, his forehead was wrinkled, his hair graying, and his general posture showed it all. Jonathan guessed the man to be at least in his mid-fifties.

Jon's quick observation was cut short when the man reached under the table. Before his hand could come up, Jonathan had drawn his gun and pressed it under the man's chin.

"What're you reaching for?"

"The drink you wanted," the man replied, his tone clearly annoyed.

Slowly the man brought his hand up to reveal it gripping a glass, with water filled three-quarters up. Looking back up at the man, Jon slowly put back his pistol and took the glass from the man.

"So you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"They call me Sullivan around here," the bartender answered. "Now, since you're in such a hurry, what do you want to know?"

"Fine. The three men in the riot uniforms, who were they?"

"They're the local enforcers."

"And what exactly do they enforce?" Jon asked, taking a drink from his glass.

"Spade's Laws."

Jon froze for the shortest of moments. It would be nigh impossible to notice if you weren't looking for it. "Spade? Did you say Spade?"

"Yeah. Why, you know him?"

"I know of him."

"Huh?"

"Nothing… So this Spade, he runs things around here?" Jon asked as he set down his drink.

"Yeah. Him and his little mock-army."

"How'd it start?"

"Well… It was about two years after the Death got here. It was just another day when he walked in. Came in and sat down; started asking all kinds of questions, just like you are now." He briefly paused. "He wanted to know who ran things here, who made decisions, stuff like that. When he found out that no one did and that we were basically doing things ourselves, he took control."

"Just like that? He just walked in and took over?" Jon was partly skeptical, but not shocked in the least.

"Just like that," Sullivan answered. "He was strong, just like you, and there was no one here capable of stopping him. So he just started doing what he wanted, like we all did anyway. But he came after us all. Started demanding things like money, food, and furniture; whatever caught his eye."

The tone in which Sullivan said the last part immediately triggered in Jon's mind. Jon knew, without him having to have it spelled out directly. Unconsciously Jon's grip on his glass tightened and his whole face seemed to frown slightly. If there was one thing that disgusted Jon the most, it was guys like that.

"And you all let him do it? You just stood by like you did when I got here?" There was a low growl in Jonathan's voice as he asked.

"You don't know anything!" Sullivan shot back, "We had and still have, no choice. No one was strong enough to stand in his way. Those that tried were killed mercilessly. Those of us that wish to live a little longer try not to upset him."

"That's no way to live."

"It's the only way we can live. Now that's all I know. You can leave now."

"All you know, or all you'll tell me?"

"Are you done here?" Sullivan asked annoyed.

Jonathan looked around, "Where'd everyone go?

"They're underground mostly. Those of us that are immune tend to stay above ground, so that there's less chance of spreading it. We try to help out though; we get food for them when we can."

"When you can? Spade takes it?"

"Yes. Sometimes though, we're able to get to it first. Most of the time though, his men get to it and take it."

"So he gets all the food? How do you get food then?"

"Most of us work for him. He said that if we wanted the food that we would have to do what he wanted. It's mostly manual labor, construction, and stuff like that. We don't get enough, but we have enough people working so that no one starves."

Jon took another drink. "So where can I find these people? I'd like to talk to them."

Sullivan hesitated and frowned. "If you go out, follow the street south about five blocks. When you get to a laundromat, go inside. In the back of the room there will be a door. You better not bother anyone. Those people don't need anymore problems."

"Sure." Jon took one last drink before setting the empty glass down. Reaching into his pocket, Jon took out some money and tossed it on the table as he got up. "I'll be on my way then."

"Good. And hurry up!" Sullivan shouted, but Jon was already out the door.

The streets were empty, just as he thought they'd be. Looking around for a moment, Jon started down the street, five blocks south. As he walked the only noise he heard was the sound of his own shoes slapping on the pavement. It reminded him of that old cliché of things being "too quiet".

Jon's mind wandered back to the three men in the bar. Sullivan had said they were "enforcers", but when Jon had struck the man, they hadn't done anything to stop him. But why? Why didn't they do something? Things just weren't adding up here.

It seemed like only moments before he arrived at the laundromat. Before he entered, he once again looked around just incase someone was following him. Satisfied no one was, he entered the building.

Inside it was just as he expected: a simple laundromat, nothing special. With the exception of a few turned over washers and driers, there was nothing to suggest that looters had touched this place. And why should they? There was nothing of value to be gotten in one of these places. Jon paid it no mind though; he just walked past them to the back.

And here was a wooden door, just as Sullivan had said there would be.

Subconsciously, Jon raised his hand to the door to knock, but stopped himself before he did. He knew there'd be no answer. So instead, he just turned the knob and opened the door. Beyond the door was a surprisingly dark passageway leading down. It was difficult just to make out the first step and unable to find a light switch, he was forced to just hope for the best.

As he stepped down, his foot didn't find a step. The surprise caught Jon off guard and he let out a small yelp as he slipped. The steps were made of hard stone and dirt, as he found out as he fell down them. Several times on his fall his head bounced off of them, leading to a grunt of pain each time.

It wasn't until he slammed hard into a metal barrier that he stopped. His head slammed off the metal and he gave out a loud shout of pain. A few moments later, he dazedly made it to his feet once more. Just as he did so he could hear the groan of the metal door behind him opening.

"What the hell happened - Who the hell are you?" the voice, female, exclaimed in a shout.

Jon quickly spun around and pushed his way through the opening. The woman who opened the door was carelessly flung to the side, resulting in a scream from her. As soon as she screamed four large men entered the room. Each of them carried a weapon of some sort. One of them held a staff, one held a long wooden board, another held a knife, and one held a lead pipe. Each one of the men looked like they were ready to take Jon apart.

They squared off opposite Jon.

It was in this brief pause that Jon got a look at the place he entered. It was only what he could describe as an underground cavern. Rock made up the floor, walls, and ceiling. The room was round with an opening directly opposite the door.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the woman raising to her feet, looking mighty pissed off about their encounter. Once she was up Jon gave her the once-over. She was tall, a little shorter than Jon, but still tall. Her hair was obsidian black, reaching down her back to mid-shoulder length. Her eyes a hazel brown. She wore no make-up, as was common after the virus spread and supplies got short. She adorned baggy brown pants and a black sweater.

"Focus," Jon thought.

Turning his attention back to the four armed men, he stood up straight with his arms at his sides.

"Look, we can fight if you want. But I guarantee that if we do, you won't be getting up afterward. Now I suggest you put those things away and take me to whoever's in charge around here." His voice demanded respect.

"You think you can just walk in here and push us around? Go fuck yourself." It was spoken by the man on the far left, holding a knife.

"I'm not here to push anybody around. Sullivan the bartender told me I could find some people here. I need to talk to somebody."

"That doesn't mean anything. How do we know you don't work for Spade?" this time it was the woman who asked the question.

Jon turned to face her when he spoke, "You don't. You'll just have to take my word."

"Bullshit."

"Look at it this way, if I am working for Spade, you wouldn't want to piss him off now would you? Perhaps you'd prefer if I got him to come down here?"

The woman frowned and then waved off the four guards. "Benjamin is in the main living area. I'll take you to him." Jon nodded in response and followed her into the next room; the guards following close behind.

As they entered the room, Jon's eyes scanned the place. They were inside a huge cavern, easily the size of a football field. The thing that caught his eye though, was the numerous blankets, mattresses, and beds spread out on the floor. It was obviously the living quarters as she had said. A decent sized river ran through the left portion of the area, flowing out through an opening in the back.

People of all ages and sex were scattered throughout the enclosure. Once they had entered, all activity had come to a halt as all turned to stare at Jonathan. The looks they had were common: fear, anxiety, and even contempt. Whispers began flying through the room and it was easy to guess what they were saying. They probably thought he worked for Spade and was here to collect something.

It wasn't long before the man Jon guessed to be Benjamin stepped forward. He was old, which seemed to be a growing trend when it came to picking leaders. Apparently wisdom came with age, but Jon didn't believe that. Benjamin's hair was long and gray, the beard on his chin reaching down to his abdomen. The clothes he wore looked like someone had cut a few holes into a blanket and just draped it on him.

"Thank you Elisabeth," the old man croaked. "I can take things from here."

The woman, Elisabeth, was hesitant. "Alright, but be careful okay?"

Benjamin nodded as she turned to leave, but not before giving Jon a look that promised pain if he were to hurt the old man. Jonathan ignored it though; he had no intention of beating up old weak people. The guards too had left with her; apparently they trusted him enough to not go on a killing spree.

"I'll only ask a few - " but Jon was cut off before he could finish.

"You don't work for Spade." The old man said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I don't," he agreed. "How did you know?"

"It's in your eyes."

"What?"

"You've come with questions, yes?" asked Benjamin as he started to walk toward the river, Jon right behind him.

"Yes."

"So ask."

They were facing the river now. From this spot it looked to be about twenty feet across. The water flowed at an even pace, not too fast, but not too slow.

"You people," Jon started, "have been under Spade's foot for far too long. I've heard of his actions and seen some myself, yet you people do nothing. That puzzles me."

"We can't do anything. Some have tried in the past, but they all end up the same: dead. We've lost too many people trying to fight that monster. It's pointless to throw away more lives. We just want to live out our lives as best we can."

"You call this living?" Jon asked in such a tone that it be taken as an insult. He gestured to the people around them, "This isn't living. This is… surviving."

"Survival is good."

"Not like this! How many more people must starve? How many people must give up their possessions? How many more daughters must you give up? To just survive? You people live like this and you don't even realize -"

"Enough!" The old man shouted. "You don't see what the situation because you're young. You're still full of pointless idealisms that will never be realized. It's having that idealism that got our boys killed." There was a deep sadness in his voice.

Jon's tone was softer now, "It's having that idealism that lets people truly live."

"Maybe. But that's not for us. You can't just walk in here preaching your ideals and expect everything to change. That's just plain idiotic. Don't you think we want change? Don't you think we want to live our lives without that bastard ruining everything? Well we do, but no one here can change it."

"I will," Jon said. His voice was filled with determination.

Benjamin chuckled softly, "Foolish boy. What is it you want?"

"I want…" Jon trailed off, thinking to himself. "The nightmare for your people to end." "…To know where Spade hides himself."

"You're not strong enough, child."

"Just tell me and I'll prove it."

The old man took in a deep breath and sighed. "He keeps himself in the old Sisco Corporations building. It's the tallest building in the city, you can't miss it."

"Thank you, sir."

Jon turned and began to walk out. Every eye in the room was on him as he walked. It didn't bother him though, he was used to it. It came with the job.

As he walked out the door, past the guards and Elisabeth, he turned to face her before she closed the door.

"What?" he asked.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Just a guy doing his job, miss. I'll be on my way now. Good day."

The door shut behind him and he started his walk up the stairs, this time taking time to find each step before moving on. The earlier fall was not something he'd care to repeat. He made it up the stairs without faltering.

As he walked outside, he knew immediately. He could feel their eyes on him as he stepped outside the laundromat. As he turned to his left he saw them standing there. It was the three men from the bar, each one carrying a weapon. It was clear that they weren't here for chitchat.

"Can I help you boys with something?" Jon asked, already taking off his cape.

"Yeah. The boss says you have to die now," said the one in the middle, ironically the middle-sized one.

"Yeah. No hard feelings or nothing." That came from the tallest one.

"Just business." The little one.

"Of course," Jon retorted, "and you'll understand if I try to defend myself?"

"It wouldn't be fun if you didn't," said the tall one.

"Alright then. Who's first?"

The little guy stepped forward.