Episode Nineteen Next Steps

A lex

I feel more comfortable in the front passenger seat than when I was driving. Ro is better suited for this than me.

"Is there a way to take down the barrier?" I ask as I tap my knuckle against the thick plexi window separating the front seats from the rear.

As soon as Ro presses a button and the see-through barrier slides into the compartment below, I reach behind and grab Shanna's hand.

"I love you, Shan. Love you a lot. All of you. I'm surprised you didn't shoot me when I tried to eat you, Ro."

Even though we're zigging and zagging between derelict cars on the freeway, Shan unbuckles and reaches to kiss my cheek. She smiles, trails a knuckle down my hairy cheek, and sits back in her seat.

"We're a family, babe. I figured we'd work it out," she says with the most poignant smile.

"For whatever reason you gave me a chance, it turns out to be a good choice. I'm feeling more clarity with every passing minute."

I wonder if this was part of the plan. Kill off most of the women, let the males fight it out so the strongest survived, then have everyone's brain come back online, so they'd have a sentient workforce Down Below.

"Fuckers," I say out loud. I don't need to tell them my train of thought. I'm sure we're all ruminating on similar hateful musings.

"How could they do this to the populace of every country?" Ro asks, slaloming through a bad stretch of road.

"It's the perfect plan, really," Chaska says.

He's an engineer. Out of the bunch of us, I would have voted him least likely to philosophize.

"Cull the herd, literally," he adds.

Perfect timing. Is that a minotaur I see by the side of the road?

"Unbelievable," I say under my breath.

For a moment, my thoughts are drawn to the presence of mythical beasts. Lions and gazelles are one thing, but dragons and minotaurs are completely different. Or are they?

What is a minotaur if not a bull plus a man? A dragon is a combination of a serpent and an eagle with a little zhuzhing. It just tells me they've been working on this heinous plan for a long time.

"Cull the herd and get just enough of a workforce to keep the rich and powerful supplied with refrigerators, TVs, and 3D printers Up Above." Because of his wings, he's lying on his belly in the back compartment, some of his weight on his elbows, his head lifted, so he can talk to us.

"Sick bastards," I say.

"Leave enough women alive Down Below to produce the next generation for a steady supply of slave labor. Why pay us when they can own us?"

The car is quiet for a while. I, for one, can't think of a rebuttal. His logic is sound.

"Back to business," Shanna says. "Thoughts about where we go from here?"

"We'll have to clean," Ro says. "We haven't been there in a while."

"Right," Shanna agrees, as if Ro was brilliant in mentioning the least important thing we have to do. Out of all of us, I think the change affected him the most profoundly.

A pang of fear bolts through me when I think of Shanna. Outwardly, she's not affected—other than by us. Except that the announcer said she had a ten percent chance of living. I have a feeling it's weighing heavily on everyone's minds, especially hers, though she hasn't said a word.

"I was thinking about how to keep ourselves safe on our property," Shan says. "I think it will be less populated in our little slice of heaven in the back of beyond. At least for a while, until everyone with half a brain left flees the cities."

"Remember that pit stop we like in Blaketon?" Roman asks. "It's out in the middle of nowhere. Small town. A bar, café, and combination gas station and general store. I thought we'd check it out. The three of us men will cover you while you pump gas, Shan. Then we'll stay on guard when you go inside and get everything on our list. We need to make a list. Shan?"

He looks at her through the rearview mirror. "Can you make a list? It will have to be a surgical strike. I thought we'd get rope, ammo if they have it, and stuff to make Molotov cocktails, for starters."

Maybe Ro isn't as impaired as I'd first feared. Those are great ideas.

We spend the next forty minutes planning our siege of Blaketon. There are a lot of variables, like where to find gas cans for the gas we'll need for the Molotov cocktails and our home generators, but we've got it tied down as tight as we can.

"I'm so proud of you guys," Shan says, hot tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "If anyone can live through this shit, the four of us can."