Respite

Abraham held the heart-shaped locket in his hand. He was certain it once had a vibrant color, but the mixture of time, dust, and bloodshed had long ago caused that shine to disappear. He didn’t open the locket that hung around his neck. He knew better than to do so without a reason. There was almost no time for sentiment in the new world, but even less time for it outside the walls of Respite. Still, sometimes, Abraham felt the need to hold the keepsake in his hand. He hadn’t opened it in ages.

Most who hadn’t placed their bets on war destroying the world placed their bets on climate change being the culprit. The world had made great strides to correct much of the damage humans had done. All the countries had joined and invested trillions in renewable energy, sustainable resourcing, and while none of that stopped climate change, it minimized the damage. Every nuclear plant on the globe failing almost simultaneously wasn’t something activism could prevent.

Abraham knew that as bad as it was, it could have been far worse. The world had pressed on. Eighty nuclear plants all melting down within minutes of each other was devastating. No one was sure what caused the meltdowns and there was ample speculation. To much of the world’s dismay, the disaster didn’t create zombies. It did, however, create mutants.

Mutants came in many forms. Some of them were animals, but in the eyes of the masses, all were subhuman. Abraham found it cruel the world had lumped the mutants among the animals and the mutants among the humans together. Any who didn’t look like perfect specimens of their species were outcast. Only the mutants who could hide their deformity, or their gifts, were welcome in most cities and living in a city was paramount if one wanted to survive in the new world. Deformities were the most common, genuine gifts were rare.

It had taken some time for hospitals to fail. Gas generators kept them alive for a while when electrical grids failed, even the non-nuclear ones. Abraham was grateful for that. Gabriel had many doctors he saw before the disaster because of the injuries he received in the Navy. Abraham’s best friend spent so much time at the hospital, he’d gotten Abraham a job there so the two could visit together more often. After the wave, when gas shortages began, violent gangs ransacked hospitals. It was after an attack on the hospital treating Gabriel that Abraham received the locket he wore around his neck. Abraham had barely gotten Gabriel and his wife out alive.

Humans could still be cruel, especially to each other, and it was still humans that were the most dangerous things to encounter outside the safety of city walls. Most mutants hid themselves away from humankind, fearing persecution. Naive dreams that at the end of the world humanity would join together to ensure its survival had been proven inarguably to be just dreams. Mutants would care for one another, this Abraham knew, but it seemed groups of humans only formed in order to prey upon those they viewed as weak.

Like most of the remaining cities, Respite was a former suburb with makeshift fortifications that those within it thought would protect them from whatever may lurk in the wild. Most times, the fortifications were enough, as long as they were tall enough not to be crawled over and strong enough not to break. Gates were always a weak point, but the one at Respite seemed sturdy. It was a massive steel slab lifted and lowered by a manually operated hydraulic lift.

Even though Abraham was the one who had scavenged the parts Gabriel needed to build the hydraulic pump that lifted the gate, it did not excuse him from supply runs. That was the way of Respite. As the city’s founder, Gabriel, was quick to remind everyone who lived there that it was called Respite because there was never time for more than a short rest in the new world and everyone had to do their part to ensure the city was secure and well-stocked with supplies in the event of a siege. Gabriel did not excuse himself from chores and duties either.

Of all the humans, with the exception of his mother, Gabriel was Abraham’s favorite. Gabriel was strict, but he was fair. He asked nothing of anyone that he wasn’t capable of doing himself or willing to do himself. When it was his turn in the rotation to clean the cattle pens, he cleaned excrement just like he’d expect of anyone else. When it was his turn to venture outside the walls for supplies, he never attempted to create an excuse why he shouldn’t have to go. That was his way. Everyone contributed one hundred percent of their effort to the betterment of Respite or they were asked, in no polite way, to leave. As strict as Gabriel kept the rules, however, he was always quick to reward extra effort.

Gabriel had no issues with knowing that one person’s one hundred percent may not produce as much as another’s. That was okay. Being lazy was not. There was no room for laziness in the new world. Gone were the days where one could find a high-paying job, work a set amount of hours per week, and then go home to do as they pleased. There was no social hierarchy in Respite. No one was above its laws, regardless of what they had contributed in the past or might contribute in the future. Money no longer existed. You either traded goods, traded labor, or you traded knowledge.

The loud hum of motors in the distance tore Abraham from his thoughts. Motors were rarely good news. The volume of the motors told him they were old, combustion-based motorcycles. There were so few places to charge anything electric in the new world that even if you got something working again, chances were it wouldn’t last very long. That it was combustion meant whoever was riding them had been to a military base as fueling stations were scarce before the Wave and in the years since most had run out of what fuel they had.

Abraham grabbed the few items he’d gathered and began running back to the city. His feet carried him swiftly, faster than any other resident of Respite could run. He hoped to arrive before what he was certain were raiders. Respite typically kept the gate open during the day so the farms could be tended and only a handful of men in the city were strong enough to pull the levers that operated the gate. Despite being faster than most, he still could not outrun the motorcycles. He arrived as the seven riders were dismounting their vehicles and grabbing their weapons.

“It would seem,” one of them announced, “that those of you in this village are unaware your village is within the domain of the great Johnny Hammer and you haven’t been paying proper tribute.”

Abraham laughed a little. “Jack Hammer would have been a better fake name,” he thought to himself. Abraham slipped into the village quietly and made his way to the hydraulic lift that powered the gate.

“We’re in no one’s domain and we don’t pay tribute,” Gabriel said as he walked forward to face the seven. “If you, or Johnny, want to make a home here, you are welcome, but the rules of Respite are that everyone gives all of their effort for a share in all the gains. If you don't contribute, you don’t get any.”

“Well, isn’t that quaint,” the brute said as he pulled a gun from his side and shot Gabriel between the eyes. “Would anyone else like to tell me what we can and can’t have?”

“That was a mistake,” the man heard as Gabriel closed his eyes.

The brutes did not know who spoke or what the person meant. Each villager before them had a look of sheer terror in their eyes, and the small gang was convinced they were the source of that terror. The loud thud of steel hitting earth made them turn to look at the entrance, now blocked by a massive steel wall.

“Rest is over,” Abraham sighed. He reached up to the heart-shaped locket around his neck and pressed the clasp to open it up. On the left, there was a young picture of Gabriel. His olive skin, still vibrant, contrasted by his black hair, parted on the side. On the right was a picture of a woman holding a large puppy. The woman was Abraham’s mother, and it was she who had given him the locket. “Never open it,” she had said. “Never open it unless you need to protect someone important to you.” Gabriel was important. So were the people of Respite.

Memories overwhelmed Abraham’s mind. All the seven gang members saw coming at them was a monster. The beast ran on all four legs and was still as tall as the closest one. Its massive jaws grabbed the ruffian by the neck and a quick jerk of the beast's head, he removed his victim’s. The remaining six all drew weapons and began firing. Their bullets served only to raise the beast's hackles and expose his white teeth dripping in blood. Now they understood why the gate had been closed.

Powerful strikes from the beast's forepaws sent the men flying, and the beast was on them again. They quickly realized they were never what the people were afraid of. It was the beast that must have followed them in, but why was it only attacking them?

With the six he’d entered with dead and dismembered, the last member of the gang scurried to the closest wall, terrified of the massive brindle beast before him. The massive jaws and massive frame were soon upon him. No stabs with his knife into the beast’s wiry fur stopped its assault. With one last heave, the beast slung the attacker over the walls somewhere among the trees for the insects to find. He then walked to where Gabriel lay on the ground. The beast’s eyes looked at the villagers, and his growl grew.

“Abraham, heel!” a feminine voice commanded.

The beast tucked his tail between his legs and walked over to his mother. His size diminished and his fur thinned out, making it look as though he had none. Thumbs replaced his dew claws, and his mother helped him put his clothing back on. Abraham was once a service dog, an Irish Wolfhound, big, lanky and awkward, but children at the cancer ward loved him. He could walk right next to their bed and rest his massive head on their chests so they could pet him and calm down. When the reactor near his old home exploded, he’d jumped on top of the child he was with to protect him.

He’d been well-trained in his former life, lessons he never forgot. The people in the heart-shaped locket were the ones he was supposed to protect, and he could only be aggressive if they were in danger.

“Your father will be fine,” the mother assured. “That metal plate in his head has stopped worse. Let’s go for a walk while the village removes the fools from our soil.”

Abraham raised the gate and he and his mother walked outside the walls.

“Idiots,” she cursed as she looked back at the village sign.

“Respite,” it read, “A Home for Mutants.”