Luna and The Chairman

Sunlight glares off the windows of huge buildings in the valley. Luna stands atop the concrete expanse of a former parking garage, surveying the closest structure. It must have been a hotel with a conference center once, judging from the size and style; a quick cross-check of territory notes confirms it.

Luna had never seen this city or any other bustling with the life it had a generation ago. She’s only heard legends about death shambling in hordes through city streets, infecting or scavenging everything in their paths.

She’s seen creatures that should have long ago decayed pull themselves out of a state of quasi-hibernation and lunge at any sign of food. It was the most frightening thing she had ever seen, and the most thrilling.

Unbuckling the pocket of her satchel, Luna extracts a birdlike drone and a palm-sized visual receiver. She detaches the earpiece hanging around its neck, lodges one end firmly in her ear canal, and connects the other to the receiver. Pressing a quick sequence of buttons on the back of its pliable hide, she enables a scouting sequence with audio and visual recording.

“Polly, be my eyes and ears. Record that building in detail. I want to know how to get into all the entrances. Return to me immediately if I give you the emergency signal.”

The drone’s flexible wings click into place, and it flies off to do Luna’s bidding.

If Luna survives the next four years as a scout, she’ll earn a heart-shaped locket for her service. This is more than a token; it’s a key to any sanctuary settlement she chooses. Though she’d grown up in a sanctuary settlement, she had no desire to return to the wilderness and caves where her family still lived. Smothering fear is the infection there; she rushed the scout recruiters like a liberated shambler when she heard them offer freedom.

Luna shades her eyes and scans the front entrance. Something tied to the door catches a few glancing rays of sun, as well as her interest. “Polly, change course and scan the west door again.”

Polly swoops in and relays a visual feed. It’s a chain – a solid one free from rust and secured with a locking device. One intended to keep people out rather than keeping the shamblers in? She can’t suppress the urge to get a closer look. The chain has irregularities suggesting it was forged by hand, and recently.

If someone has gone to the trouble to create a new chain for this door, then surely they’ve already swept the building for shamblers. Why bother locking up unless you have something to protect? An un-exterminated building is its own security system. The chance of a passer-by is so remote, the only real need to lock up would be to protect valuable resources…such as a water purification system?

She should keep walking. Officially, she’s not required to undertake Reclamation work until a new scout partner arrives – given that shamblers are usually found in packs. Her first scout partner, Donna, had been…less concerned with safety guidelines. Thus, Donna’s fall down an elevator shaft after failing to check the cable integrity was not entirely surprising.

In addition to being alone, Luna is unfamiliar with this territory - Desert Quadrant 4 (DQ4). This morning, the airlift dropped her off on the outskirts of the abandoned city. “It’s not ideal,” Scout Command informed her, “but we have another unpartnered scout in DQ2 who can catch a ride to DQ4 in about a week. In the meantime, find a base, identify targets, follow safety protocol. You don’t get sanctuary without five full years of service in the field. Period.”

Finding a base would be far more practical. Most houses had been abandoned as the owner either became an unwilling victim of the epidemic or fled attempting to survive. Few in the sanctuaries had memories of an urban past; those who did were reluctant to speak of it.

But what if this building really did contain a cache of resources? This could become a center for re-population and re-establishment of civilized life. With enough available resources, this could be one of the areas where humans could crawl out of the dark age.

Giddy with thoughts of progress, Luna descends the stairwell. She’d already checked its integrity on the way up, but is still careful to scan for hazards. Shamblers wouldn’t be a threat here, but structural collapse and unknown humans were always a concern.

A low rumble startles her. Had she misjudged? Luna hurries down to the last level, scanning for cracks and creaks. As she darts out of the garage, distancing herself, she can’t see any signs of collapse. However, the racket gets louder, and she sees a relic of a vehicle clanking up the cracked concrete. As it approaches, the air carries a vague meaty scent.

Convinced the driver has already seen her and it’s too late to run back to the garage, Luna stands her ground and waits, recalling Polly. When the vehicle stops, a man steps out. A pair of sunglasses that look like they’d been looted sometime last century shield his eyes. The sleeves have been ripped off the faded black shirt he wears, and the pockets marching down his pants legs are stuffed full.

Quickly assessing the stranger, Luna doesn’t sense danger. Distrust and irritation, yes. But she’s met scouts in training that made her feel more uneasy than this man. That makes her confident enough to initiate contact.

“Are you the scout from DQ2?” she asks.

The man relaxes slightly at her question. “Nope,” he answers, leaning against the front panel of the vehicle. He starts to grin, the wolfish satisfaction on his face dissolving her composure.

“I’m The Chairman,” he says, “and this is my property. You’re trespassing.”

Frustration flares through Luna. If this territory has already been claimed by rogue scouts or some other band of scavengers organized enough to set up a government…it’s going to be at least a month of filling out data forms that won’t count toward scouting service, and a new territory assignment to boot.

“Where’s your proof?” she snarls, before she can weigh the consequences.

He calmly walks to the back of the vehicle and pulls out a halberd. He rests it on his shoulder, keeping both hands wrapped around shaft – presumably ready to swing. “What else do I need?” he asks, still far too cool for her taste.

“Documentation would be nice,” she replies, her tone clipped. “Maybe it’s inside. Laser through these chains, Polly,” she commands. The drone zips into the air and delivers a precision laser beam from its right eye to neatly sever the links.

The Chairman stills, staring at the door. Chains clink and slither free as the doors start to bulge toward them. Luna realizes shamblers on the other side are responding to their presence, drawn to living flesh.

“I’m quick with a sword,” she blurts, hoping wildly an offer of help will make up for the tremendous blunder. “If you have an extra, I’ll help exterminate. If they get loose, this property and miles around it will be worthless for a while.”

“If I hadn’t already identified evicting the shamblers as a two-person job and needed the help, we’d have a bigger problem. Instead, I’m going to mow down the first column and you’ll take the second,” he says, reaching back inside the vehicle and tossing her a wicked-looking scimitar. The hilt is sturdy and wrapped in soft leather.

Without a backwards glance, he grips his weapon and stalks toward the oncoming shamblers. She runs toward the column at a diagonal, close enough for a few distracting strikes. Then she backpedals, waiting for some to follow the heat and movement. A few break away. At a pivot point, she repeats the diagonal run.

Luna lopes back, ready to dispatch of the first few she’d drawn out. The borrowed blade cleanly slices through one wizened neck after another, but the number of shamblers flowing out of the building is far larger than she’s anticipated. A glance tells her The Chairman fares better with his long-reach weapon, but she doesn’t know how quickly the giant axe would tire him.

Based on scout training, she knows explosives are preferable for a herd this size – fire is an effective extermination agent, and the lingering heat will confound even more shamblers. She has no grenades, but she does have a viable substitute.

“Polly!” Luna shouts, “fly above the center of the herd and fire five times! Hit only shamblers. Hold fire for anything with an animal heat signature!”

The first of Polly’s laser strikes sends a pulse through the pavement. Luna carefully positions herself between the blast and the shamblers redirecting themselves toward the heat, then runs toward them, using the scimitar like a scythe.

She has enough of a buffer before her next swoop toward the outer ranks to check on The Chairman’s progress. He’s still keeping the first column at bay and has barely retreated. Room enough for another laser strike.

“Polly! Back up five meters and fire into the center of the herd again! Hit only shamblers. Hold fire for anything with an animal heat signature.”

Luna resumes shearing off the outer edges of the column and watching the doors. Shamblers still emerge into the daylight, but much more slowly. She’s happy to let them exit at their own pace, flocking toward the pyre.

“You’re not bad with a sword, but you’re much better with a fire-breathing drone,” The Chairman calls out, startling Luna. She’s been so focused on the rear column that she’s nearly forgotten about him.

“Ran out of shamblers,” he casually says, without waiting for acknowledgement. “When the lasers hit, a bunch of them found the fire more interesting than me and turned around. I’ve been picking off a few here and there, but it’s contained.”

“Polly can speed up the incineration once we’re sure they’re out. Unless you need them, I’ll use the ashes for its fuel. Polly runs on sunlight and carbon.”

He grins and nods toward his vehicle. “Same as my wreck.”

“I’ll allow you to keep the lion’s share of the ash in exchange for the use of the sword and the chain Polly destroyed.”

Again, The Chairman gives her a mischievous grin. “It’s my property.”

Luna sighs. “Then you know I need some type of documentation. And don’t get any ideas about dispatching the messenger – all of Polly’s activities are transmitted directly to Scout Command, including audio and visual feeds. There’s already another scout on the way to meet up with me.”

The Chairman’s smug smile slips – but just a little. Luna keeps talking. “You already have a governing body, if you’re The Chairman, right? If this is your property under those guidelines, all I need is signatures from the rest of the officers.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem,” he says, and she can hear the unease creeping through his nonchalance. “Government situation isn’t really working out at the moment. I was hoping to stay here while that cools off. This place has a greenhouse on the roof, and I was hoping to distill some water, maybe grow some supplies, and have a lookout point.”

He pauses for a moment, confidence returning. “You’re still short a partner until the scout arrives, so how about we pool our resources for now. We made a pretty good team with this extermination. Plus, I’m a swordmaker by trade. If I have materials and a forge, nobody beats my blades.”

Luna considers. By the time they get the area cleared of stray shamblers and the pyre extinguished, it will be night. She needs shelter – preferably away from here, in case they’ve missed a few. The Chairman has a vehicle, weapons, and resourcefulness.

Either way, it’s a gamble. There’s only one way to find out if he’s bluffing.

“All right Chairman. Deal.”