Power and Betryal

Photo by Alex Kalinin on Unsplash

“Get out of the elevator, Jake.” The pistol is steady in my hand. I don’t want to shoot him, but I will. And I won’t hesitate. I just don’t want to deal with a dead body.

He looks so hurt. Like his daughter just stabbed him. He knows I turned on him, just hasn’t processed it yet. I try not to feel guilty. And unlike most other times, it doesn’t work. “I don’t understand. You’re one of us. We had a plan.”

“I need the power core.” I won’t say why. I don’t want to see his face when I admit it’s all for money. I don’t want to shoot him. But if I don’t finish this job, I’d be crossing a client, and then I’d be dead. Maybe it’s because he actually believes in his cause and has real hope. But hope isn’t edible, and it doesn’t pay for ammo or fill a gas tank.

“You took a bullet for me.” He’s still calm. He doesn’t want to accept it. That the girl he took into his colony, who played up the damsel, is actually a cold-hearted mercenary that doesn’t care. I don’t care. I really don’t care. I’m not the least bit upset that I won’t see any of them again. That’s all a lie.

“That was a setup.” I hate how much he reminds me of my dad. He died for what he believed in, long before the world ended, the power grid went out and never came back, long before the war that ate up the last of the oil. Before the nukes. “I knew it’d be the easiest way to gain your trust. And it was your trust I needed since you have the codes for this building.”

“We need that power core back home. Without it we run out of water.” He’s not even looking at the pistol. He knows I won’t shoot. Knows me too well. “I know you can’t be completely heartless. You were a part of Tabula Rasa for months. No one’s that good of an actor.”

“It’s not personal, Jake.” He was right. But if I screwed this client over, I’d be carrion fodder. The elevator door tries to close but bounces off his boot.

“At least let me come to the basement with you. I might find something to help Tabula Rasa.”

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give him more time to try to convince me to change my mind. I should just shoot him and get the worst of this betrayal done and over with. Instead, I say “fine.”

He stepped int the elevator and hit the door-close button. I kept the gun on him. If it came to a physical fight, I’d lose. He was bigger and stronger than me. And he wouldn’t be fighting for just his life. “How much are you getting paid?”

“Enough that it’ll be my last job.” I don’t look at his face. I can’t. “And if I don’t do it, I’m dead.”

“Unless you came back with me.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Like you’d want me after this? I’m a mercenary. Plain and simple. I do what I do to get paid. That’s how I’ve survived.” Ten years ago, before the tipping point of calamity, I’d been a socialite who liked guns, fast cars and stupid men. Somehow, a lot of those skills had been transferable to this post-apocalyptic nightmare.

“Tabula Rasa means blank slate. Starting over. Everyone back home has a story that’s there’s to tell if they want it. Some aren’t so different from yours.” The elevator doors open, and he steps into the hallway. “I know you want to be more than a mercenary.”

The rot and mold stink of the basement makes me gag. I cover my nose with my shirt. Stink sweat is better than this foulness. “If I did that, I’d bring trouble back to everyone.”

“And you wouldn’t care if you were as heartless as you’re pretending to be.” He’s smiling. I can hear it in his voice. He’s smiling as he leads me to a treasure his people will die if I take.

“Shut up.” But he’d already won. I had to admit I liked the idea of going back. But if I went through with this betrayal, there would be no going back. But if I betrayed my clients, there’d be no going at all. “It doesn’t matter. “

After several twists and turns, he opened the door to the generator. What we’d come here for. What I’d spent the last four months searching for just to get a payday. But now it could be a way into something more. Something more than survival. “Give me a third way, Jake. Give me a better option than death by a pissed off client and betraying you.”

Jake was smiling again, or still. It made him look years younger. “Find a spent power core; we transfer enough power to it that it’ll fool your client, and then we bring the good one home.”

I nod. It’d work. They couldn’t blame me for the power core being mostly spent. It had been hooked up to a building for a decade. “Let’s do it.” I wanted to go home, where I didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. I wanted out. And if it meant betraying a client, that at least I could live with.

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Thank ya for reading. This was probably influenced by how much Fallout 4 I've been playing. Please comment, comment rewarder is on!