RECRUIT, BY D. PETRIE

“Shut up.” Jason stared down at his stomach as it rumbled for the fifth time in under a minute.

The food had run out days ago.

There was no choice. He was going to have to go to town.

He glanced to the door of the cabin he’d been squatting in where a collection of a half-dozen rifles sat. There was a time when he thought that his collection was all he needed to survive when shit hit the fan. The other guys he hung out with thought the same. They went out into the woods every couple months and set up camp, pretending that the worst had happened. That society had fallen, leaving them in charge. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

A rifle was useless without bullets, and he had run out weeks ago.

Add to that fact that he hadn’t exactly taken care of himself prior to the apocalypse, and his future was beginning to look bleak. Sure, he’d lost plenty of weight in the last few months, but he neglected things too long, and lacked the muscle and endurance he needed for the new world that he found himself thrown into. Even worse, without a steady source of food, there was a limit to what exercise would do.

“Dammit.” Jason sighed, certain that he wouldn’t survive another trip into town.

The only reason he made it as far as he had was because he’d hightailed it out to the woods with the rest of his friends back when everything hit the fan. Unfortunately, everyone got a lot less friendly when their supplies began to dwindle. Everyone wanted to be in charge and no one was willing to compromise. Jason had always thought himself as somewhat of an alpha, that others would just fall in line when the time came.

Why wouldn’t they? He had the weapons.

As it turned out, a few rifles didn’t mean much when the entire world was turned into bloodthirsty monsters. Even worse, guns became a liability when no one could agree on who was the leader. Jason had been prepared. That was what he’d always believed. In the end, his group hadn’t even lasted the first month.

Mike shot Ned in the back, but not before Ned had already put rat poison in Mike’s canteen. They both died that day. Frank simply disappeared in the night after an argument with Steve that had evolved into death threats. Maybe he was right to leave. In the end, Jason had been forced to put Steve down. The guy just wouldn’t listen.

“Maybe I was the problem.” Jason couldn’t help but wonder if he had been the one that needed to listen instead.

If Steve and others were still there, he would have a better chance of surviving a trip into town. Without them, he was a dead man walking.

“God, I wish I had one more bullet.”

That last thought was interrupted by a knock on the cabin door.

Jason snapped his attention to the entrance then back to the fire crackling in the wood stove.

“Shit, they must’ve seen the smoke.”

Another knock came at the door.

Jason shot up from the chair he’d been sitting in and rushed toward the door to grab one of his empty rifles. He threw himself up against the wall next to the entrance, the way he’d seen done in the movies before shouting out a warning.

“I have a gun!”

Technically that was true, even if it wasn’t loaded.

A moment of silence came from the other side of the door, followed by a whisper that he couldn’t make out. After that, a masculine voice responded.

“I’ve got one, too.”

There was a slight slur to the man’s words, as if he been drinking.

“Go away,” Jason added, in case that much had not already been implied.

“Now don’t be like that. I assure…” A sound followed, like that of someone stumbling to one side. Another moment of silence passed before the voice continued. “I assure you, I mean you no harm. It’s a cold night, and a little warmth would do me well.”

Again, he slurred his words.

“Well, maybe you should keep drinking. That’ll keep you warm enough.”

That was when a second voice joined the conversation, sounding like tearing paper.

“Just open up, bro.”

“Shit.” Jason tensed.

There were two of them.

He glanced around the cabin for something to defend himself with. There was a knife on the table, but he wasn’t confident enough with it. He glanced back to the rifle in his hands. It was still his best bet. He may not have had any bullets, but they didn’t know that. As long as he kept that fact secret, they might not try anything.

Jason’s eyes drifted to the canister of rat poison on the shelf that had put one of his friends in the ground. The only thing he had to offer was a few packets of instant coffee. That was it. That was his way forward. Whoever the guys outside were, they were sure to have at least some food on them. Hell, Jason was desperate and just about willing to widen the things that he considered edible.

“Alright,” Jason called out. “You can come in and get warm, but that’s it.”

“That sounds—” The drunk on the other side of the door made one of those noises that sounded like he was trying not to throw up. “That sounds reasonable.”

“You’re not going to hurl in here are you?” Jason asked, trying to lighten the mood so that no one would suspect anything.

“Of course not,” the drunk snapped back. “I can handle myself, I assure you.”

With that, Jason reached for the door handle, turning it in a jerky motion before standing back with his rifle at the ready.

A moment passed before the drunk on the other side pushed the door inward.

Jason immediately froze.

The man was average height, maybe fifty or sixty years old, with a large camping backpack, and dressed in a coat appropriate for the weather. Unsurprisingly, his face was red from too many drinks, with a shaggy beard that hadn’t been trimmed in weeks. All of that was expected. The part that I threw Jason for a loop was that he was alone.

“Where’s your friend?” He kept his rifle aimed at the drunk’s chest.

“What friend?” The guy just shrugged.

“The one who told me to open up.” Jason said, annoyed since it was obvious who he was asking about. “Your friend that called me bro.”

The stranger gave him a puzzled expression. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m alone.”

“I didn’t imagine it,” Jason snapped back, raising his rifle an inch to aim at the man’s throat.

The drunk eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“I…” Jason trailed off.

He didn’t think he’d imagined it, but he had been alone for nearly two months. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Then again, the guy’s friend might be going around the back right now. Jason hesitated before finally nodding. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had made up his mind. He had already opened the door; he couldn’t just close it again. Besides, poisoning the drunk was the safest route to getting some food. Safer than going into town, at least.

“Fine.” Jason stepped away from the door to let the man in.

“You can lower the gun.” The drunk stepped inside, holding both hands out empty.

He had a revolver holstered at his hip, but if the alcohol on his breath was any indicator, it is unlikely he would be able to draw it and shoot anything with any kind of accuracy.

“Fine,” Jason repeated as he lowered his rifle and closed the door.

He locked it, just in case. The back door was secure as well. He’d checked that at least an hour ago.

“I can offer you some coffee,” Jason said, trying to get things over with as fast as possible. “It’s not very good, but it’s something. You can leave after that,” he added, trying not to sound suspicious.

“That’s kind of you.” The drunk walked halfway to the table before awkwardly shrugging his way out of the straps of his pack. He nearly fell over in the process.

Jason couldn’t help but notice the clinking of multiple bottles and the slosh of liquid coming from within.

I hope this guy has something other than booze, he thought as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, making sure that it was clear he could get to it easily if he needed to.

The drunk dropped into a chair by the table and Jason went to work.

Glancing back, he made sure the old guy wasn’t looking as he reached for the canister of poison. The drunk was staring at the wall opposite him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. At least he was making it easy. Jason poured some water from a canteen into a teapot, and set it on top of the wood stove. He stood with his back against the wall where he could watch the front and back door at the same time while he waited for the water to boil.

“You’re welcome to sit.” The drunk turned around and gestured to the other chair.

“I’ll stand.” Jason slid his rifle to his front so he could rest his hand on its grip.

“Suit yourself.” The stranger turned back around to face the wall.

Jason didn’t wait for the water to boil, just that it was warm enough to pass as something close to coffee. He dumped a packet into a pair of mugs from the cabinet, adding a healthy scoop of poison to one. The water went in next. He stirred them both, making sure not to use the same spoon on his. After giving himself a moment to memorize which mug was poisoned, and plan out how he intended to set them down on the table without being suspicious, he turned around and served his guest.

“Thank you.” The drunk didn’t immediately pick up the cup, opting to let it cool.

Jason sat down to take a sip of his mug, hoping to encourage him to take a drink as well. “Sorry it’s not hot. You don’t have to wait.”

“Ah, yes.” The stranger picked up his coffee and raised it to his mouth, stopping about an inch away from his lips. He immediately made a face as if he smelled something and put it down again.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, actively trying to keep his voice from shaking.

The old drunk stared at him for a long moment before opening his mouth. “You do realize you’ve used about ten times the amount of…” He picked up the mug again and smelled it. “What is this, rodent poison?” He shook his head. “It would only take a fraction of what you put in here to kill a man.”

Jason immediately stood up and readied his rifle. “Get out.”

“I think not.” The stranger remained where he was, ignoring the gun altogether.

Jason placed his finger on the trigger. “I said get out.”

“Let’s stop pretending that you have any bullets in that gun. You wouldn’t have tried to poison me if you did.” The drunk glanced around the cabin. “I see you don’t have any food either.” He glanced to his pack. “It’s all starting to add up.”

“Shut up.” Jason tightened his grip on his rifle, still clinging to the empty weapon.

That was when the drunk slid the poisoned mug across the table. “I think you might need this more than I. This is where your story ends, after all. I’m sure you’ve realized that already.”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat back, annoyed at the man’s fancy way of speaking while slurring each word.

“Nah, fuck you, bro,” the stranger said, this time his voice coming out different. It was the same one that Jason had heard before while he was standing outside. The voice like tearing paper.

“What?”

“Allow me to introduce my partner,” the drunk said in his normal voice. “Say hello, Tavern.”

Again, the inhuman voice came from the stranger. “Sup.”

Jason took a step back, unable to hide his panic. “I don’t know what is going on here, but get the fuck out of here before I—”

“Before you, what?” The drunk grabbed the side of the table and stood, flipping the piece of furniture in the same motion.

It flew from the floor as if it had weighed half as much, spilling instant coffee and rat poison through the air. Both mugs smashed against the wall as the table crashed to the floor, landing upside down. Before Jason could react, the stranger had already grabbed the barrel of his rifle with one hand and shoved it to the side. He wrapped his other hand around the front of Jason’s throat, gripping him just beneath his jawline.

A frightened yelp escaped him as his feet were lifted off of the ground. His mind shut down, unable to understand what was happening. The drunk couldn’t possibly be that strong… He didn’t even break a sweat as he walked across the room to slam Jason up against the wall.

“Let’s you and I make a deal.” The stranger held him a foot off the floor. “I’ll give you some food, but in exchange, you work for me.”

“What?”

“It’s simple math. Just business. I have leverage, something you want. And you,” he squeezed a little tighter, “you have the ability to lend me your service. And when we find more people, I will offer them the same deal. Except for them, they will have to listen to you as well. Does that sound good?”

Questions flooded Jason’s head. How was he that strong? What did that other voice belong to? What did he have planned? Despite the unknowns, the only thing Jason said was, “Yes.”

“Excellent.” The stranger released him, letting him fall to the floor. “I’d say working for me is a lot better than the alternative.” He glanced back at the broken mug on the floor laying in a pool of shitty coffee in rat poison.

“Who…” Jason wheezed. “Who are you?”

“Bancroft.” He leaned down and held out his hand as if to shake. “Charles Bancroft.”

Jason cautiously took the man’s hand.

“Welcome aboard.” Bancroft gave it a firm shake. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”