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Chapter XXXVIII

The Angst of the Nightmare

Ash found a few shotguns, assault rifles, and pistols in the bandits' car. He also found some ammunition for those weapons, Ash barely got all the loot in the technical in time as the Undead draw near.

When the group was back on the road, Cilan helped Brock keep pressure on the wound. Randy sat blindfolded, being silent as Tesla eyed him carefully. The other Pokémon sat nervously, shaken from the shootout. Ash's Pokémon stared at him most of the way, like they were afraid of him. He, too, was shaking. Ash could barely keep his hands still, he kept his head down, listening to the drone of the technical's tires rolling across the asphalt road.

I just killed living people... Ash thought.

Yes, they were a threat to his friends. Yes, they shot Brock. They were hardened criminals, maybe even Randal, but they were still people. People who were desperate to grab a hold of supplies, food, and water...

Tesla revealed his true power, he gave everything he got into vaporizing the escaping bandit. At his weakest, he could take off a person's hand. His strongest . . . an entire body, ripped to shreds by high voltage of specialized electricity. He showed only anger, a temper he had seen on occasion with him. But this was different, the look on Tesla's face was the same he shown when they first met.

And Ash remembered how well that went.

He glanced up and checked on the old Pikachu, Tesla had fallen asleep, resting his head against the side of the technical's trunk. He looked exhausted, had that Thunderbolt zapped most of his energy?

"You okay, Tesla?" Ash asked.

Tesla's eyes fluttered open, he turned his head and glanced at Ash. The trainer could see fatigue in the old Pikachu's eyes, "That Thunderbolt wore me out," said Tesla, "I just don't feel like moving at all, it's like I hadn't slept in weeks. I shouldn't have unleash all that energy, I should have shot the guy instead."

"I had him in my sights."

"Well, you were too slow then. He got what he got, can't change that now..."

The old Pikachu's voice trailed off as he hunched over. His eyes drooped, Ash watched as Tesla flopped on his side and started snoring. Oshawott glanced at him in curiosity, he gave Tesla nudge to wake him. He didn't stir, he was too deep in sleep.

"Oshawott?" Oshawott puzzled.

The Sea Otter Pokémon turned away and left Tesla alone, he glanced up at Ash for a second before dozing off towards the sky.

"It wasn't my call," Randal muttered, "I was just a pawn, those guys were assholes."

"I saw you shot Brock." Misty asked.

"We thought it was going to be an easy raid, we didn't expect to get nailed by an M60."

"Does it make you feel better that it's now jammed?" Ash asked.

Randal turned towards Ash, somewhat facing him as he tried to pin down his voice, "That's not my concern anymore."

"F*ck, it ain't!" Mark swore from the cab.

The technical buzzed and crackled, Mark pumped the accelerator as it began to slow down, "Come on, don't stall on me now!"

The vehicle groaned and sputtered, then something popped.

"Damn it," Mark cursed, "Engine's dead, this car's a goner."

The technical slowly rolled to a stop at an abandoned commercial district, then Mark put on the breaks, "This is as far as she can go." he announced.

"What do we do now?" Misty asked.

Ash thought of an idea, though he doesn't like it, "I'll get out and push the technical back to the Pokémon Center, how much does it weigh?"

"400 kilograms," said Mark, "Way less than your average fossil fuel car."

"Even better."

"I'll shift the technical to neutral, if the Undead show up then you give it all you got. If there's a horde, we ditch the technical and everything in it."

"Then less talk, more pushing."

Ash hopped out of the trunk and got behind the technical. When he got into position, the emergency lights clicked on and began blinking in a timely matter.

How appropriate. Ash thought.

Just as he placed both hands on the technical, his eyes went big. The trunk door was riddled with dozens of bullet holes, every corner was covered with them. Ash was amazed how the trunk door stopped all those rounds, cause they would have killed him and his friends within seconds.

"There's a lot of bullet damage on the trunk door," he shared his find with the group, "I can't believe they didn't go through."

"This car has bulletproof armor installed," said Mark, "I guess it wasn't a waste of money after all."

"Mark," said Cilan, "You're a genius!"

"Only if Tesla agrees. Do you, Tesla?"

Tesla stirred and muttered, "What?"

Mark explained what Ash found, the old Pikachu quickly gave out his answer.

"I'm downgrading you from dumb ass to smart ass on the idiot scale."

Mark and his Pokémon laughed hard, everybody else chuckled, "Fair enough." Mark muttered.

Ash began pushing the technical, it slowly rolled forward without much effort. It surprised Ash how light this vehicle was, he didn't have to strain himself to get it moving. Mark kept the vehicle on course as his friends keep a lookout, however Ash looked over his shoulder every few minutes, just to be sure they weren't being followed.

He didn't have to push it that far, the Carson Pokémon Center was just around the corner. As he pushed the technical up to the front entrance, its shuttered opened up. Wally and several police officers ran out, with guns drawn.

"What happened!?" Wally asked as he surveyed the damage.

"Bandits," said Mark, "Brock's injured, everybody else is okay but shaken up. We managed to capture one of the bandits alive."

"Okay, bring him inside."

. . .

Randal was taken to a back room where the police kept a watchful eye on him. It didn't take much convincing that he was a threat, after seeing the damage done to Mark's technical they were convinced that Randal was dangerous. Nurse Joy did her best and stitched up Brock's wound, he held strong as she sewed both the entrance and exit wounds. After adding some rubbing alcohol and bandages, Nurse Joy sent Brock to the living quarters where he slept off the rest of the day.

The police cleaned out the technical, taking all the guns and placing them in the makeshift armory. Mark later pushed the technical into the parking lot and, though unnecessary, locked it, before heading back inside.

Ash took his AR-15 and sat it on his bed, he head back downstairs where Mark was talking to Professor Oak. He took a deep breath as he approached, "So what did you find, Ash?" Oak asked as Ash approached.

"We found a few clues," said Ash, "But no direction where Tracey went. We found Gary, unfortunately."

Professor Oak looked away for a moment and sighed, "Did he turn?"

"Yes."

"Judging by the state of his body," Mark added, "he was probably devoured by the Undead, and what's left came back. I have no doubt that he was already an Undead since Day one."

Professor Oak returned his attention back to Ash, "At least you brought him back, just like you promised."

"I made sure it was fast for him," said Ash, "I looked away when we put him down."

That, of course, was a lie. Mark glanced at him in response, he understood the tension as it was, "I put him down," he backed up the lie, "I should have used something other than a shotgun."

"Doesn't matter now," said the Professor, "You did what you have to do, now did you bring any good news?"

"Yes," said Ash, "But I want to go it over with you and Mom in private, what we found may be our best chance at survival."

Delia came rushing out of nowhere, she wrapped her arms around Ash and almost sobbed, "What happen," she asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No," said Ash, "But Brock is."

"We were ambushed by bandits," said Mark, "They tried to disguise a really bad car accident to pull us into the kill zone, but Ash spot the ruse in time."

He didn't add his role in firing the M60, but Delia had heard enough, "The roads are getting more dangerous, we just learned an hour ago that there was some trouble brewing in Kirto and Electron. Armed gangs are buzzing around, no telling where they'll strike next."

"We bagged one of the people who attacked us," said Ash, "He sounds alright, though he was the guy who shot Brock. We can reason with him."

"What are we going to do with him?" Professor Oak asked.

"We'll have Wally decide," said Mark, "Either way, this guys is pretty much screwed as it is, and so are we. Tesla may have already decided, since we discovered he was a fan of his Pokémon battling – and Tesla hates fans."

"There's so much to go over," said Ash, "Mom, Professor Oak, can we step into a room where we can discuss in private?"

"Sure." said Delia.

Mark stepped back and looked over his shoulder, "I'll . . . tend to other matters. Call for me if you need anything."

Ash led both Professor Oak and Delia to a secluded, yet private, room. His heart raced, he hadn't thoroughly thought out what he was going to say. If he spoke all the wrong words, they would disagree to the plan, and convincing them would take a few days. Maybe weeks. And the disabling of Mark's technical wouldn't help the odds either, travel would have to be by foot now. But the scavengers always went out to forage on foot, it was faster, or efficient. Perhaps safer? No, not when there's a horde of Undead wondering around.

Now what if they agree, so what? How can they get a dozen people, plus 8 Pokémon, to coordinate such a move? Where would they go? The roads were now dangerous, thanks to the criminal population running a muck. Even if the group was well armed, even with body armor perhaps, they still won't be no match for a massive Undead horde. Just hundreds of them, endlessly coming from all directions with seemingly no end in sight. A dramatic final stand may be in order, but in the end, even committing suicide, everybody will still get eaten regardless.

No doubt this was on their minds.

When the three walked into the room, Delia shut the door behind them, "What is it?" Ash's mom asked.

"We found a new safehouse," said Ash, "A farm completely untouched by the chaos going around the world. It belongs to Tesla's former trainer, Irvin, who inherited it from his father. There's enough food to last us for at least 2 years if we don't take in anymore people and Pokémon."

"So that's the surprise," said Professor Oak, "Amazing!"

"But there's a problem," said Ash, "Mark's technical was shot up when we were coming back, its engines are dead. The only mode of travel would be on foot, unless we get another car from somewhere."

"What are our options in traveling on foot?" Professor Oak asked.

"The roads were obviously filled with Undead humans and bandits, the wilderness has a lot of Undead Pokémon. Me and my friends had to take out an entire herd of Undead Pikachus just to make it out of there alive, it would be just as dangerous as taking the roads. Either way, there isn't much to go on at the moment."

Delia nodded, "Is there another route we could at least take?"

"That would be Mark's call, he knows how to navigate the forests around here."

"The new safehouse option sounds good," said Professor Oak, "But that means we have to leave the Pokémon Center, and the other survivors here."

"We'll still keep in touch with them on the radio," said Ash, "It isn't like the Carson Pokémon Center is going anywhere."

"Ash," said Delia, "Tell me how you survived that encounter with the bandits, just what happened back there?"

Uh-oh, Ash thought, What should I say?

"They tried to trick us into thinking someone's hurt," said Ash, "They did a poor job in making the car accident convincing, there weren't any tire marks or bloodstains. I told Mark to floor it, and they all hopped into their cars and chased us. When they caught up to us . . . there was gunfire everywhere. Most of it went into the trunk door. Mark had the technical armored prior to the Undead apocalypse, he hinted it could be a waste of money. I'm glad he did, cause we would all be dead if it wasn't for his clever ideas."

"Praise that boy, I can see you two were good friends. Though I don't like his attitude still, he keeps bringing up inappropriate subjects."

"You don't even know half of it."

Delia chuckled for a moment, then got serious, "Did you fire back?"

Ash gulped, I'm screwed.

"Yes, I did."

"What did you use?"

"I used the M60 machine gun and...

Ash's voice stuttered and muttered, he felt his eyes tear up. He hugged Delia tightly and cried softly, "I don't know how I'm going to handle this, mom. I didn't have a choice."

"I just wish you finished your childhood before," said Delia, "But you can take care of yourself, you always had. I'm worried you wouldn't make it."

"I was this close to dying, and people just don't die anymore!"

Ash broke down crying, and his mom pat him on the back and calmed him down. Professor Oak stepped back, probably thinking of leaving the room. Ash whimpered for a few minutes and let it all out, tears trailed down his face and was absorbed his mom's shirt. Thankfully Pikachu wasn't seeing this, that would had made things hurt even more.

"I wanna go home," Ash sobbed, "I already miss Pallet Town before, now I really miss it."

"I wanna go home, too," Delia whispered in his ear, "I want our lives back, I really do."

"That's not going to happen, even if the world returns to normal. Society is broken, we're lucky to be on this island where there's still some fragments alive and well."

Delia kissed Ash in the cheek and said, "We'll be fine, you know what you're doing. We'll wait until the time comes to move to the safehouse, and we'll wait until order is restored to the island."

"You know that we turn into an Undead in the end regardless." Ash reminded her.

"I know, Ash," said Delia, "I know."

"I'll see what I can pack," said Professor Oak, "If we ever leave, we're going to need to be ready, such as the event the Pokémon Center is ready to fall."

Professor Oak opened the door and left, Ash lets go of Delia and took a deep breath, "Feeling better?" his mom asked.

"For the moment, yeah," said Ash in a low tone, "I need a few days before I could get over it."

"Go back to the living quarters and rest, you earned it."

"Okay, thanks mom. I love you."

"I love you too, son."

. . .

Strutting nonchalantly down the halls, Max was heading off to the living quarters. He had just seen the Pokémon Center Pikachus again today, but they weren't the same since the first few days of the outbreak. They were scared, horrified, and crying on each other's shoulders for dear comfort. Max found himself hugging a few Pikachus, even soothed a few of them to sleep. Normally the Pikachus would be the ones cheering folks up, but they lost a lot of friends. Maybe they were family members, if so, then that would explain a lot.

When he was about to leave their room, a few Pikachus pleaded for him to stay. When Max explained he must leave, one Pikachu burst down crying. Thick beads of tears trail down their cheeks as they drop to the floor, curling in a fetal position to ease their grief. Max stared at the crying Pikachu as he walked backwards out of the room.

Poor Pikachus, Max thought as he kicked a used bullet cartridge across the hall, Breaks my heart seeing them.

"Please," said a muffled voice, "No!"

The voice omphed as someone punched him, Max shot his head up and wondered what was going on. He turned toward a door where his friends were keeping the Randal guy, Max pressed his ear against it and listened.

"No," Randal pleaded, "No!"

Max jumped back when he heard a bone crunching kick. With eyes bursting with terror, he ran down the hall and back upstairs.

. . .

Natas sat in the corner of the room, clutching his magnum pistol in his hand. Randal repeatedly took a few blows to the face as Mark unleashed his anger on him, the man whimpered and cried. When he hunched over, Mark kicked him in the stomach which forced him back up, "Please," Randal pleaded, "I'll do anything!"

"You tried to kill us," said Mark, "You had that look in your eye as your other comrades!"

"We didn't know . . . I didn't know! We had no clue what we're dealing with!"

"Well now they're dead or Undead, and you're going to meet a fate worse than death if you don't tell me what else they had in store!"

Mark gave a sharp kick into Randal's stomach again, he omphed and moaned. Blood began trailing out of his nose, dripping on the floor in tiny crimson circles. He struggled to break the duct tape bonding his hands, all he managed to do was tire himself out. Mark pressed his foot against Randal's bandaged ankle, he let out a high note that could shatter glass as far away as the South Pole.

This is going nowhere, Natas thought to himself, This guy has nothing of value.

This would be something to report to the boss. Though it might not have any value to his intentions, Ash did bring him back. What were they going to do to poor Randy, are they going to line him against the wall and shoot him? Or serve him to an unsuspecting zombie horde as dinner? Natas wasn't there when the bandits attacked Ash and his friends, but he had experienced ambushes a lot during his army days. The fearsome temper Mark was putting out showed how hopped up he was.

With his technical destroyed, they lost a force multiplier. This would make efforts of looting and scavenging more difficult in the long-run. The scavengers would run more, which requires more calories, which increases the demand on food, which makes the food supply drop faster, and the scavengers would have to find more food – breaking more sweat than they need to. Rationing would be more strict, and people would go hungry more often. Once folks are uncomfortable, the group would be prime to argue over the most minor incident. Like using too much toothpaste.

The lack of food can cloud anyone's thinking, even a trained survivalist. Natas knew how to grow premium potatoes, even in soil with not much nutrients. Grinding up bones from zombies would make suitable fertilizer. Hopefully zombie bones aren't infectious after a period of time.

Mark probably hadn't have proper food in a while, Natas could tell it in the boy's eyes. His body was more leaner, more than his friends and acquaintances. Natas bet Mark's ribs were more prominent than the others, all that energy he was unleashing upon Randal would make sure of that.

"What are they planning!?" Mark spat as he repeatedly kicked Randal's stomach.

He backed away and watched as Randal spat out blood, "I heard talks that they're going to raid the Carson Pokémon Center tomorrow," he let out a rapid-fire cough for a few seconds before adding, "They know where it is, they said they learned of the guns from the radio transmissions!"

"How am I surprised," Mark asked sarcastically, "Maybe you guys have a mole in this building somewhere, a sleeper, like in the movies."

"I- It could either be tonight or tomorrow night," Randal continued, "I'm not quite sure, they didn't tell me much!"

Mark leaned a hand against the wall and processed his find, "What do you think, Luke? You sure he's telling the truth?"

"I bet 10 clips of ammunition that he is," said Natas, "If there's an attack imminent, then we gotta prepare this place."

Mark approached Randal and kicked him one last time, "Fair enough, I'm done here anyway."

The Faraday City resident slammed the door behind him, leaving Natas alone with Randal. The prisoner kept his head low, muttering unintelligible words. He cried and moaned, might as well leave him alone to cool down.

Natas grabbed the nearby roll of duct tape and taped up Randal's mouth, then grabbed the potato sack off the counter and pulled it over the prisoner's head, "Stay there, don't move," Natas warned, "I'll be back."

Randal nodded sheepishly, making frantic grunts underneath the duct tape.

"I mean it." Natas added.

When he left the room, he placed the horizontal bar on the door. Mark added the crude, yet sturdy piece of metal just to be sure that Randal wouldn't escape. No way the bar would come off without anyone knows about it, the piece of plumbing pipe ringed with a tune when it dropped into the hinges. Natas made his way back to the roof and relieved the watch on duty, once alone he pulled out his specialized communicator.

It was no bigger than a stop watch, yet it contains a powerful antenna and a Lithium button battery that would last for 5 years. Hopefully it would last longer than that, since batteries are a hard item to come by during these dark times, not to mention that they're no longer being manufactured. Just to be sure that the voice coming out of the communicator doesn't travel farther than intended, Natas pulled out a pair of ear buds out of his pocket and plugged them in. Once he put the ear buds on, he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was there. There wasn't.

He held down the talk button and raised the communicator to his mouth, "Natas here."

"Hello again, Natas," said his boss through the tiny ear buds, "Anything to report?"

"Things are getting a bit hairy on the Island, you want the long version or the quick version."

"Give me the long version."

It took 10 minutes for Natas to tell his boss how Ash helped Tesla put down his dead trainer, how he saved his friends from a cannibal, how he went out to who know's where and came back – telling unspeakable horror and guilt. Natas kept his eyes trained on the stairwell door the entire time, trying to be prepared for anyone walking through, "The boy has changed," Natas finished off, "The look in Ketchum's eyes, I never seen a soul so scarred in twenty years. His mom is ready to give up on him, his friends were wondering what to do with him, but Mark and Tesla continues to give him unquestionable loyalty."

"He was almost bitten by a zombie and was shot at by bandits, how can I blame him? Can you earn the kid's trust?"

Natas thought for a moment, "I may had f*cked things up a bit, I . . . uh, crushed him when I told him his Pikachu's tail is a handle for an Undead hand to grab. I think I hurt his Pikachu's feelings more than him, but it may be worse than it looks."

"He isn't arrogant," said the boss, "So you may still have a chance. Remember this Natas, that boy and his Pikachu must live for our plans to work. Keep him alive for the next three days, make sure he doesn't get killed. On the third day, you contact me, and I'll give you your final set of instructions. Over and out."

"Yes, boss." Natas said as he unplugged the ear buds and put the communicator away.

He never really told me why that boy is so important, he thought, I'm starting to like the kid.

His hand pressed against his pocket, containing the two .16 gauge shotgun shells Ash had given him for his double-barreled shotgun. Natas wondered about the boy, worried of him, like he was his own son. The kid was determined to survive in a world where he had no future, no obtainable dream, and no guaranteed safety. What was keeping him going was his friends and Pokémon, they were family to him. Natas understood that. Without family, a person's nothing...

He shook his head at the thought. It wasn't entirely true. His parents were gone, his other relatives were gone, everybody he once knew and cared about were gone. His Pikachu he once cherished was gone, now buried in the backyard of his house – Natas made a mental note to go back home and check on the remains, since dead folk now had a habit of getting back up and walking off. He managed to get a high-paying job at Team Rocket, he get to test out new technologies and steal Pokémon for profit. Natas never agreed with the idea of stealing Pokémon from the wild and their trainers, not even his boss – no wonder why he overthrew Giovanni.

Natas sat down and pulled out his wallet, he took out the picture of his Mouse Pokémon and stared at it. He missed those silly eyes, how they twinkle when he giggles and squeal in joy. His Pikachu always loved to be held, bathed, even cuddled. The Mouse Pokémon wanted to play a lot, Natas fulfilled those demands despite the heavy issues of his journey days at the time. Just seeing his Pikachu die in his arms...

"I just wish I could do more for you, buddy." Natas muttered to himself as he put the picture away.

Three days, Natas soon thought, Just three more days, I gotta get some form of relationship going with Ash. Just a nudge in the right direction, and I may be alright from there . . . But which direction should I go?

TO BE CONTINUED...