The Unfortunate Master Of The Apocalypse

Ethan wrote inside a notebook as he counted the food supplies for the second time, even though he knew the numbers would not get any better. Eleven cans of beans. Six bags of chips. Eight cans of beef broth, none of them full. The total math was two days of ration for twelve people and that is if nobody got greedy, but somebody always got greedy. The day before, Priya had given out her portion and Ethan had pretended not to notice, same as always. He was still counting when Tram's shadow fell across the crate.

“Hey, I'm still hungry. I need another can,” Tram said. He and two others had just come back from a supply run that hadn't been much of a success. He had a graze up one forearm he had not bothered to clean.

“You know we all get the same ration. One day at a time.” Ethan looked up.

“I walked six miles through ghoul territory. I think I've earned an extra.”

Ethan had seen what was left of a man eaten by a ghoul. They cannot be outrunned. Tram must have been lucky.

“Right now we have a handful of days between us and nothing. An extra for you means less for everyone.”

Tram worked his jaw. He was a big guy, broad through the shoulders. The kind of build that used to mean hours in a gym and now meant the talent of super strength. He could carry more, hit harder, endure blows that would put Ethan face-down for days. Tram crouched to his level, meeting his eyes with a sneer.

“You are good for nothing. We have all seen you try, so why don't you let the people keeping this group alive get a say in how the food gets split.”

His hand closed around a can of beans. His grip tightened around it.

“No,” Ethan said, and held his gaze. “Good-for-nothing kept count of every can in this crate so people like you would have something to come back to.”

“Tell me why stealing from twelve people is a good use of your evening.”

Nomy appeared without either of them hearing her. She was just there, between them, so close enough that Tram took half a step back before he caught himself.

“I wasn't stealing.” Tram stood up.

“I'm watching you take it.” She held her hand out. Tram held onto the can then dropped it on her palm and turned to leave, pausing for a moment.

“You’re wasting your time with him, Nomy. He can't do anything right. Not even his talent.” Tram was gone before any of them could answer.

“Pay him no mind. I will confront him.” Nomy set the can back on the crate and sat across from him, taking his hands.

“It's ok. Just leave him alone. He's always like that.” Ethan looked past her, towards the heavy reinforced main door of the warehouse. The hinges had gone thin and rusted at the edges. Earlier that day, he made a remark to Leon the group leader about it failing soon. Leon did not take it seriously. Nomy's thumb moved back and forth across his knuckles drawing his attention back to her. He still looked at the door and Priya standing in front of it.

“I know but him being like that doesn't make it right. By the way, do you still remember your plan? Because you've been doing nothing except counting supplies for a while now, Ethan. You're not making any effort. The plan was supposed to be more than counting.”

“Yes, I remember my plan about creating a safe place for the vulnerable. I will achieve it. Step by step.”

“I’m glad you still believe in it and I believe in you. Look, no matter what they say, I will still be here with you by your side. We will ride this all the way to the end.”

Ethan looked at her. At her blonde hair and her sea green eyes. At the dimple that formed as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“To the end,” Ethan said, smiling back as he squeezed her hands.

Leon walked over, shaking his head.

“Okay, what happened here with Tram. He is in a mood. When I pressed him, he said to ask you two.”

He looked at Ethan, then Nomy.

“Sorry for interrupting your moment here but I need an answer.”

Ethan spoke before Nomy could open her mouth.

“Tram wants to take extra food even when he knows that we are low on supply.”

“We’re running low?” Leon looked at Ethan like it was his fault. He was updated on the status every day, and he still pretended to act surprised. “How long do we have?”

“Two days, roughly.” Ethan said.

“For twelve of us?”

“Yes, for all twelve.”

Leon nodded slowly.

“We'll find more,” Nomy said. “We always find more.”

“We always have.” His tone stayed flat when he said it. “That doesn't mean we always will. Twelve mouths, two days. If we were less it could have lasted longer.”

He was looking at Ethan now.

“Why are you looking at Ethan like that?” Nomy asked, standing up. “What are you implying?”

“I’m saying whoever costs the most and contributes the least is a liability.” No rise in his voice at all, which somehow landed harder than shouting would have. “We'll need to look hard at them soon.”

Liability. Ethan felt the word settle somewhere odd in his chest. But liabilities were the reason the group expanded and accommodated more members in the first place. To survive together. Alone, they would all be dead. Ethan was still trying to find a response when the ground shook with a rumbling sound, raining dust from the ceiling of the warehouse they had called home for the past two weeks. They all moved together, their legs making the decision before anyone's head caught up. The main door had given in all at once and eight feet of steel wall had come down sideways. Priya was under it. Ethan got there to find the wall pinning her from the waist down, one hand scrabbling at steel that outweighed her a dozen times over, her scream gone thin and wordless. Tram already had both hands under the lowest edge, and he started to lift.

“Stop! You'll twist it into her.” Leon's voice cut through.

Tram stopped lifting, his chest heaving. He could feel it too, the collapsed section was still braced against the door on the far side. If he kept lifting his end up alone the wall would pivot on the door side and slam into her leg instead.

“I need someone on the other end to even the weight or I'm cutting into her worse than the fall did!”

Nomy's talent was invisibility while Leon's was fire. Neither helpful. The rest of the group was incapacitated one way or another. Then, every eye in the room found Ethan at once. Nomy looked at him, certain, like she had already seen him do it. Tram's expression hinted that he had little to no hope.

“Copy him. Now.” Leon said. It was not a suggestion.

Ethan dropped to the other side of the wreckage, close enough to see Priya’s eyes, wide and wet and fixed on him like he was the only thing left in the room.

“Hey, Priya.” His voice came out steadier than he felt. “Look at me. Not the steel but me okay?”

“Ethan,” The teenager's voice broke on his name.

“I've got you.” He didn't know yet if it was true but he said it anyway.

“We're counting on you, Ethan.” Leon said, “Don't fail us.”

“You better not drop it.” Tram said.

Ethan looked at Tram straining, sweat dripping down his face. He looked at the steel then looked at Priya. Ethan's copy talent wasn't like turning on light bulb. New talents took time. He had to study them, hold them still in his mind long enough to capture. Familiar ones came faster, but even those had never been easy. It was closer to taking a photograph of something that wouldn't hold still. Most times he got half an image. Sometimes he got nothing at all. And when it worked, it lasted ten seconds or less. He had that same feeling now, the empty-frame feeling, and he hated it as much as he ever had.

He took the photograph anyway, tried to capture the image of Tram's talent the way he had always done and captured nothing before. This time, he saw something entering the frame. Not full strength yet, just a thread of it humming somewhere in his chest where nothing had ever hummed before. He didn't know if it was enough. He would get his answer in less than ten seconds. He grabbed his end with both hands and lifted.