EOW Insurance

by Mike Kirkendall

EOW INSURANCE THIS IS AGENT# CDK556. CONRAD.BILL (POLICY# YHG456) KNOWN DWELLING IS OVERRUN BY TROLLS. AREA SURROUNDING THE MAIN DWELLING HAS A NUMBER OF HUMAN REMAINS, EITHER OUT IN THE OPEN, NAILED TO TREES, OR IN TROLL PILES. ONE PILE HAS A HUMAN HEAD THAT STRONGLY RESEMBLES POLICYHOLDER. SENDING IMAGE. STANDING BY FOR RECEIPT CONFIRMATION AND SATISFACTION NOTICE.

Jackson Morris (otherwise known as Agent# CDK556, and Jax to everyone else) hit send on his mobile unit after punching in the message. The thick, heavy duty buttons made typing out long messages annoying, if not tiring; a small price to pay so that the device would work in the field.

Putting the device aside, he picked up his camera and used the zoom feature to watch the house. He had taken enough pictures; he just wanted to make sure he knew where the Trolls were. So far he counted nine, which in the Troll world was quite a bit. Trolls have a strong patriarchal hierarchy where every group is lead by the strongest male. The problem for Trolls is that every male thinks they are the strongest, which leads to constant fights where the pecking order is reestablished multiple times a day. Normally these fights are a quick punch, bite or kick; and then followed up with a severe beating by the current “head of state.” Every once and a while, these fights get nasty, and the challenging male does not back down as easy, and a Troll dies…

One of these fights took place as he watched the house and waited for a response. Jackson was happy that the Trolls were busy with each other, and not looking around for something to kill — responses from the Wave Net could take anywhere from minutes to hours, depending on how the messages were picked up and relayed. Wave Net devices throw out their messages to a variety of radio bands and wavelengths in small packets. Eventually, the intended recipient gets all the packets, and thus, a complete message. No longer are there reliable cell-towers, satellite phones, or other rapid communication technologies. Wave Net uses parts of all of the old tech, when it can, and the senders hope the messages get through. It's like a hacked together crappy telegraph without the wires, but with the ability to send simple photographs.

Satisfied that the Trolls were not going anywhere anytime soon, Jackson slowly crawled backwards down the ridge he was using for cover, taking his Wave Net communicator and camera with him. He shimmied down to the rest of his gear; where his backpack and carbine were leaning against a tree, silently awaiting his return.

Jax waited.

He ate some food; a compressed cake of corn, berries, seeds and dried beef. It was not that bad for field food, and had all the nutrients that his body needed.

Jax waited.

He drank some fresh apple juice out of an old sports-drink bottle.

Jax waited.

He checked on the Trolls; one was beating another over the head with what looked like a human leg, as he ate what looked like a human arm.

Jax waited.

He wiped down the outside and lightly lubed the bolt on his carbine, an old Sig Sauer 553. He was once told that the Sig showed people that he had taste, was a connoisseur of old euro tech, someone who knew weapons — and not to be trifled with. In reality, he could give a shit. He was not a gun person, and never really understood the appeal. He needed something for protection in the field, and something that made him not look like a victim in town. He won the carbine in a card game with a pair of nines and kept it because it did not weigh a lot.

Jax waited.

The temperature was still nice, about the mid 80's. Summertime in the Free Northwest can't be beat Jackson thought to himself as he noticed that the “Message” light on his Wave Net device was glowing a dull green.

Jax stretched his arms wide, a slight “uhhhhh” escaped his lips at the apex.

“Time to get the fuck out of here,” he quietly said as he picked up the device and hit “receive.”

AGENT# CDK556 THIS IS EOW INSURANCE. POLICY NOT SATISFIED. SATISFACTION CONDITIONS ON POLICY ARE LISTED AS ABSOLUTE. FULFILL ABSOLUTE SATISFACTION REQUIREMENTS AND REPORT BACK.

“What the shit? Absolute?” Jackson pulled out Bill's policy and jumped to the satisfaction terms. They were listed as “probable,” just as he knew they were, because he looked at it this morning over a decent cup of toasted barley tea (that the proprietor had the balls to call new coffee). He flipped to the last page of the policy and looked at the insurance issuer rights notes and saw the word “seconds.”

“Those shady mother…” Selling insurance in a world where everything is trying to kill you is a losing proposition at best. The big guys can make a little on volume, where the small guys make it on spread or you actually dying. What they do is sell you a policy for a decent chunk of change because you have loose satisfaction terms, then, they buy a policy on you to cover the expense of paying out (or even above the amount of your current policy), but with stricter satisfaction terms so they can get it for cheaper. The difference between the two pays the company every month, and when you die, they get a nice payday.

Jax just gave his company proof enough that they will have to pay out, now he needed to get proof so that his company would get paid. He instantly knew that there was no arguing or complaining, absolute is absolute, and End Of World Insurance wants their money.

Author Mike Kirkendall lives in Washington state where he gardens and has a shit ton of guns.