Crossing Bedlam (35 page)

“Like that would stop me from shooting.”

“And people call me a cold-blooded killer.”

“You are.”

“Yes, but I’m also friendly and entertaining.”

“Just shut up, Lloyd, and move faster.”

Cassidy takes out another searchlight and scans the area for her next target, stopping when she sees Baxter walk into a building. She is tempted to shoot him, but fears that taking out a person now would reveal her position. All the blonde can do is watch him go inside and hope that he returns when the action really starts. The temptation to snipe him through the window makes the young woman curse under her breath before going back to scanning the area for other dangers. She is amazed that there is such a basic defense around the installation considering all of the wealth inside.

The reason for only having a fence, guards, and dogs becomes clear when she spots a woman crawl out from under one of the vehicles. Instead of packing up her tools, the mechanic pulls out a box that she is carefully checking. Stomping her foot in frustration, the worker returns to whatever she is installing and only her legs can be seen. When the woman comes into view again, she gives a thumbs up to one of the buildings and packs up her tools. Something about the way the mechanic moves, as if she fears touching any of the cars, sends a chill up Cassidy’s spine. Zooming in on the window that the worker gestured to, she sees a guard sitting at a large console full of detonator switches in front of him. The woman appears to hand him the box, which he removes a piece from and installs into the bigger machine.

“We have a problem, Lloyd,” Cassidy whispers, moving the rifle to get a look at where her friend will attack from. She hears him clear his voice and guesses he is either rolling his eyes or mocking her in some fashion. “Every vehicle has a bomb on the undercarriage. I don’t think it’s connected to the electrical system or the ignition. Probably something they set off when it gets far enough away from the buildings. I can see the control room from here. Do you think you can take the bomb off while I cover you?”

“Sure, I’ll just use the screwdrivers and whatever other tools I have in my robotic hand,” the serial killer sarcastically replies. The walkie-talkie erupts with static for a few moments and returns with another dull rumble. “I’m almost there, so get ready to keep them off me. If they don’t want to set everything else off then there’s no rush to get rid of the bomb. Shoot those inside the room right before I leave with the jeep. After that, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to either remove it or get out of signal range. Bombs work like that, right? Never can tell with movies because half the time you can blow them from an entire country away and other times you need to be standing in front of a perfectly placed camera to be viewed later by the good guys.”

“We’ll ditch it when you pick me up.”

“As long as we aren’t being chased.”

“Not if everything goes well.”

“I really should have painted this thing red and blue.”

There is no time to reply to the last joke as Cassidy watches a large tractor trailer come barreling off Interstate 80. With most of the guards examining the distractions on the north side, there are only a handful of people to shoot at the attack coming from the south. Bullets bounce off the metal plates that have been sloppily bolted onto the hood. Similar protection is around the windshield, which is why Lloyd keeps his head out the driver’s side window until he is sure he will not miss. Guards and searchlights are taken down by Cassidy’s sniper shots, her aim getting less accurate when she has to rely more on the poor night vision function of the scope. She is still able to clear several enemies before the truck smashes through the fence, runs over whoever is in the way, and heads for where Lloyd sees the jeep.

A major flaw in the plan is apparent when Cassidy realizes that the truck has blocked her view of nearly a quarter of the installation. She is thankful that Lloyd comes out on the passenger side, the serial killer slipping out of the space between the cab and the trailer. He dives under a van before the tower guards can hit him, the potential for an explosion stopping them from shooting at his hiding place. Cassidy takes advantage of the delay to take out as many exposed enemies as she can, but she is forced to reload before she can clear all four towers. Patting another blanket-covered weapon, the blonde takes a deep breath and goes back to covering her friend. It takes her several agonizing seconds to locate the serial killer and it takes her even longer to figure out what she is looking at.

Lloyd is running from the dogs while waving one of the car bombs around, which makes Cassidy chuckle. None of the guards want to risk causing an explosion by shooting the man and repeatedly look at the detonator room for instructions. It dawns on the sniper that they might not understand how the devices actually work beyond installing them and hitting a button. Unless Lloyd has his finger on a button that she cannot see, which is entirely possible and a level of crazy that she would not put passed her friend. Feeling guilty about her next shot, Cassidy snipes one of the dogs to make the rest stop their pursuit.

“Strange how I don’t like killing an animal, but humans are easy,” she whispers while adjusting for a better view. Two shots take out the last of the searchlights and she sees an array of beacons appear from the guards’ vests. “They’re making this too easy. Headshots all already, people. Get the fucking jeep and leave, Lloyd. My other toy is getting antsy.”

Scanning the area for her companion, she eventually finds that he has used the darkness to slit the throats of a few guards. Instead of the bomb, he is now holding a strange, circular object that she cannot identity through the scope. With the enemies having been trained not to fire wildly into the dark, the gunshots quickly subside and the only sounds are that of them yelling directions. Deciding to scare them a bit, Cassidy fires at a few cars that some of the guards are standing near. The sound of a bullet piercing the hood causes them to jump and one even whirls around to unload his magazine at another squad. A brief firefight occurs until one group is down to a single man and the other realizes who they are shooting at.

The rev of an engine comes over the walkie-talkie and Cassidy watches the jeep come barreling around the parked tractor trailer. She barely notices a rectangular object getting hurled out the driver’s side window and onto the larger vehicle. The remaining guards are scrambling to get around the truck and shoot at the jeeps tires, none of them aware of whatever their enemy has left behind. As Lloyd reaches the broken fence, Cassidy snipes the two workers in the detonator room before they can hit any switches. She looks back to her friend in time to see him jam the mysterious globe onto a metal post while the jeep awkwardly skids through the gaping perimeter breach.

“All clear for the grand finale,” Lloyd says over the walkie-talkie. The faint sound of a song about fire can be heard when he is not speaking, which makes the young woman smirk. “Found our friend Baxter in the dark. As we feared, he was born without a brain. So I took his head and put a bomb in it. Should be a fun surprise if it goes off. Oh, and they left everything in here except for the sensors that Bart gave us. Ready to go?”

“Meet you on the other side of the ridge,” Cassidy says, tossing the sniper rifle and walkie-talkie over the edge. She pulls the rough blanket away to reveal a rocket launcher with a single shot already loaded. “Sorry that I have nothing cool to say here, Lloyd. I’m just ready to get this over with.”

Cassidy aims for the tractor trailer, which has been filled with explosives that range from powerful fireworks to homemade material that their supplier was only too eager to offer. As the rocket heads for the installation and the guards stare in horror, she wonders if her expectations are too high. Not knowing much about explosives beyond grenades and a few landmines, it dawns on her that this final blow could be rather disappointing. Her fears are put to rest when the truck explodes with a boom that rattles the area and sets off the activated car bombs. Cassidy covers her ears with her hands as she is knocked off her feet and sent rolling down the hill to where Lloyd is waiting for her.

“Off to California?” he asks with a grin.

“Off to California,” the blonde replies as she limps to the jeep. She opens the passenger side door and turns to glare at her friend. “Why is there blood all over the seat? You know, don’t say anything. Just shut the fuck up, Lloyd. I’m driving while you clean this mess. You can spend the rest of this trip with an ass that smells like a slaughterhouse.”

“There’s just no pleasing you.”

“Get in the car, Lloyd!”

Iron City by the Bay

After parking on the far side of Interstate 80’s final stretch across the water, Cassidy and Lloyd take in the unexpected sight before them. The young woman is clutching her locket as she stares at the distant Golden Gate Bridge, which is covered in what she assumes are abandoned cars. The rest of San Francisco is surrounded by an immense wall of metal panels that remind the travelers of something out of a dystopian novel. A wide channel has been carved along the southern border to turn the city into a fortified island, making the two bridges the only access points to the mainland. Only gulls and seals are in sight, which adds to the sense of mankind abandoning the area.  A shift of the wind brings the smell of rotting meat to the pair, the foul odor doing nothing to improve the atmosphere. They assume it is a large shark that has washed up on shore, but they silently fear that the smell is from something much more ominous.

Using her binoculars, Cassidy feels her stomach tighten when she spots gun turrets at the top of the wall, all of the weapons aiming for the bay and bridges. Examining their only path across the water, she notices several telltale, blinking lights on the struts. Her mouth moving without making a sound, Cassidy counts the explosives and stops at ten. From the bombs’ positions, she knows they are a final defense built out of sheer paranoia and no restraint was used in preparing them. Once detonated, the devices will obliterate an enemy-infested bridge and leave only one path to San Francisco. She wonders if the locals have done the same to the Golden Gate Bridge, but all she can do is hope they would not be crazy enough to destroy one of the few remaining national landmarks. Even as she finishes the thought, several examples of insanity come to mind and prove that it is entirely possible.

“Call me paranoid, but I think it’s better to go around and get to the bridge from the other side,” Lloyd suggests while rummaging through his shirts. Finding one of a bunch of colorful, spandex-wearing superheroes, he sniffs the collar and decides it is the best of his collection. “It’s obvious that those people don’t want company. Unless there’s a really bad door-to-door salesman infestation here, which means a giant wall is a perfectly reasonable reaction. I’ve played enough video games to know that vehicles set up like they are on the bridge are for cover too. Sadly, neither of us fit the bill for a shaved bear in body armor with a gun the size of a park bench.”

“The bridge is set to blow too,” Cassidy points out, tossing the binoculars into the jeep. She can see that there is a single path along the middle of the bridge, which would leave them exposed to the gun turrets and any other ambushes. “I’d rather do this with permission from the locals. Last thing I want is to get sniped for trespassing after coming so far. What do you think about using a white shirt as a flag? We can put it on the jeep’s antennae since we never use the radio.”

“All of our white clothes have red marks on them,” Lloyd points out, scratching his head with the sheathed machete. A school of dolphins pass through the bay, the animals turning away from the bridge to go back the way they came. “I know this is our grand finale and it should be full of excitement, but I don’t like this. Every city we’ve found that should have been walled off and isolated was exposed to the world. I can’t help wondering why this is the one place that is locked up. Maybe the locals are cross-breeding or simply waiting for a chosen one to born and free them from a crazed warlord. You know there is a third-”

“We’re going to San Francisco and granting my mom’s final wish.”

“As you wish.”

“Just take what you need and lock the jeep.”

Already armed with a shotgun, Cassidy grabs her favorite pistol and puts on the pea coat even though the thick jacket makes her sweat. As an afterthought, she hangs the binoculars around her neck while Lloyd takes his machete and a bottle of beer. It takes a few minutes to booby-trap the jeep against being stolen, each one designed to severely injure anyone who tries to get inside. A pack of Wilders appear from down the shore, their greedy eyes locked on the potential prize. The shaggy, almost primal humans are surprised when Cassidy undoes one of the traps and tosses them a bag of food. When she pats the side of the vehicle, one of the men nods his head in understanding and divides the down payment on their help among the others.

The travelers keep their hands up as they step onto the bridge and begin the long walk toward the looming city. Stopping after several minutes, Cassidy listens for a robotic buzzing that comes and goes every few yards. Pretending to tie her shoe, she notices that one of the abandoned cars has a camera behind the windshield. Continuing on, the young woman hears the device follow them until they are out of range and another picks them up. Glancing at Lloyd, she watches him track another camera and try his best not to make faces at whoever is spying on them. The fact that they have not been shot yet gives her some hope, but it could also be that they are not in range of the guns. As they pass Treasure Island, a strong wind returns the smell of rotting flesh to their noses. The artificial landmass is nothing more than a dumping ground for bodies, which has turned the area into an isolated plague swamp.

Eyes still tearing from the stench, they reach the fortified door to San Francisco, which has the name spray-painted in golden letters. Pigeons wander the rocky coastline and peck at any edible trash that they can claim before the prowling rats. The ringing of a trolley can be heard from inside the city as well as faint voices, which stop when Cassidy grabs a hammer and uses it to knock. Keeping themselves close to the entrance, the travelers do their best to stay out of the gun turrets’ sight. They are so nervous that the crackling of a nearby intercom makes them jump behind a nearby crate.

“State your business,” a woman says in a slightly robotic tone. A screech followed by a hum bursts from the device before the voice continues in a more human form. “The city of San Francisco welcomes all outsiders as long as they do not mean us any harm. I see that the two of you are armed, which is disconcerting.”

“Sorry, but we’ve come from New York,” Cassidy explains, holding up her locket to what she thinks is a camera lens. Wiping sweat from her brow, the blonde takes the woman’s silence as a request for more information. “My mother was killed and her remains are in this locket. Her dying wish was to have her ashes thrown off the Golden Gate Bridge. She kept me alive when everything went to hell, so I owe her this and so much more. We’ve fought through a lot of dangers to get here, including Nebraska. Please let us through to honor my mother’s wishes and we’ll leave your territory as soon as we finish.”

“That is a touching story,” the woman replies, sniffling as if she is crying. The camera whirrs as it changes position, the lens focusing on Lloyd. “The man looks too close to your age to be your father. Not sure I trust him. Something about his smile makes me think he is planning trouble. What is your reason for this journey?”

“I’m her friend and bodyguard,” Lloyd replies, showing that his hands are nowhere near the machete. Remembering that he is holding his paintball gun, he turns the weapon to show that it is non-lethal. “She needed help and got me out of a jam, so I owe her. Then a lot of adventures happened and we lost score. If Cassidy wasn’t here then I’d say I’m in the lead, but we’ll go with a tie. Would it be easier if we go around to the other side of the bridge? That way we don’t have to enter your city.”

A click signifies that the intercom has been turned off on the other side, forcing the travelers to wait in silence. A pelican lands on the railing and stares at them for five minutes before one of the wall gunners fires. The short burst pounds into a nearby car door, which creaks and clatters onto the ground. Glancing at the source of the noise, the bird stretches its wings and flies away to leave the terrified pair to more even more. Something about the animal not having any fear toward the loud noises gives the travelers goosebumps and a bad case of dry mouth. When they hear a distant gunshot and see a body launched into the bay, Cassidy and Lloyd strongly consider returning to the jeep.

“Sorry about what you saw,” the woman says with a laugh. There is a sense that she is smiling, which does nothing to put her potential guests at ease. “A man wasted his last chance and we had to remove him from our community. Being visitors, you don’t have to worry about that part of our constitution. Now, I feel it would be beneficial for you to enter San Francisco. It is the only way to your destination. We have a mile of mines defending the far end of our beloved bridge, so that path would be suicide. Neither of you strike me as wanting to die, which means through this gate you have to go.”

“Thank you. I promise we’ll be quick,” Cassidy swears, ignoring the doubt etched on her friend’s face. Turning away from the intercom and politely holding up a finger, she lowers her voice to talk in private. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to vomit. Is it the smell from that plague swamp?”

“You know that isn’t what my face looks like,” Lloyd snaps, his fingers wiggling from the desire to kill. He nervously licks his chapped lips while taking another look at their desolate surroundings. “Probably nothing, but I really don’t trust this place. Hard for me to say this, but let’s be careful here. I don’t want you letting your guard down because we’re at the last chapter. That’s how tragic endings happen and we’ve made too many friends and enemies to be a one-shot story.”

“I’ll stay alert, but this is what I have to do,” the blonde whispers, his companion’s anxiety making her wonder if she is missing something. With the giant wall in her path, there is no way to figure out if they are walking into a friendly metropolis or a haven for psychopaths. “Maybe I’m distracted, which makes sense. Then all I can do is push forward and trust you to be my bodyguard. More importantly, I need you to be my friend here. Either we walk in there together or we both turn back in defeat.”

“Wish we had the mine locator on the jeep.”

“Are you with me, Lloyd?”

“I still know of a thi-”

“Are you with me, Lloyd?”

The serial killer nods his head and reaches out to touch the locket, the exterior starting to tarnish. “Once more into the unknown we go. If this gets me killed then I’m so telling your mother on you. Unless I get to come back as some warrior of hell or the only guy able to recapture a bunch of escaped souls. Think this is a story where heroes and villains can come back from the dead no matter what?”

“Doubt it because then my mom would be back,” Cassidy replies, turning to face the intercom. She takes a sharp breath and smiles at the camera, hoping they have not kept the woman waiting for too long. “Sorry about that. We were discussing our decision and have agreed to continue. Thank you for helping us.”

“Stand clear of the doors,” a man orders from inside the city.

With the bangs and clicks of large deadbolts, the entrance begins to open and forces the travelers to back away. They can see explosives wired to the hinges, the bombs designed to collapse the upper part of the wall. As the doors swing wide, fifty soldiers aim their machineguns at the outsiders’ heads. Two people come out to slap handcuffs on Lloyd and Cassidy before another group of guards uses stun guns on the prisoners as an extra precaution. Standing above the unwelcoming committee of San Francisco, a woman with patchy, blonde hair and one eye watches the operation. Wearing a white dress that is stained with old blood and a crude circlet of wood, Mayor Trudy Bellis smiles like a demented wolf.

“Loved ones tend to stay dead in most stories, especially if it’s an origin tale,” Lloyd mentions as they are dragged into the city.

“Do I even have to tell you what I want to say?” Cassidy angrily slurs before getting zapped again. Drool slipping from her mouth, she glares at the proud woman who is congratulated her men. “This won’t end well.”

“For who?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Oh, I hope it’s for that third solider on the right because I don’t like his three prong beard.”

Not wanting them to talk any more, two of the locals carefully hit the travelers in the back of the head with padded baseball bats. Darkness filling their vision, Lloyd and Cassidy are confused as to why they are not being killed immediately. The last thing they hear before passing out is something about impure ones and how the true citizens are one step closer to reviving the great United States of America.

*****

Ice cold water jolts Cassidy and Lloyd back to consciousness, the two of them shivering in their soaked clothes. They are surprised to find that they are no longer bound and have all of their weapons, but the line of armed soldiers dissuades them from fighting back. A huge crowd surrounds the wooden stage where the prisoners and Mayor Bellis stand, the one-eyed woman discussing the event with her well-dressed aide. Built into the middle of the floor is a metal shaft ending in a collection of rusty bars that have been fixed to the concrete. The tear-inducing smell reminds the prisoners of a sewer, which does not make the threat of falling any better. Noticing a few jugs of oil that are topped with soaked rags, Cassidy and Lloyd realize that the threat of impalement and disease are not the only things they have to worry about. The crowd stops cheering when the aide leaves the stage and their leader holds up her hands for silence. She picks up a microphone from the floor and blows gently on it to make sure the battery is charged.

“If only my dear husband, Senator Gary Bellis, was alive to see this,” Trudy announces to the solemn whispers of the crowd. She waits for the mild noise to stop, making sure to scratch at her eyepatch and bring attention to the old injury. “He saw that we would be betrayed by our allies and knew the enemies within our borders would take advantage of the blockade. So he escaped the destruction of DC and worked to revive our damaged nation. My dear husband chose San Francisco as the new capital and all of you came to believe in his vision. Within our first year, we had erected the wall and destroyed the enemies at our doorsteps. Then the criminals who have thrived on America’s carcass killed Senator Bellis . . . my husband when all he wished to do was offer a home to the pure ones who were still lost out there. I was lucky to have made it back here and report that no such people exist in the so-called Shattered States. After a decade, the only creatures outside our walls are animals and anarchists. They eat each other, fornicate with beasts, indulge in every sin imaginable, and revel in our greatest nation’s execution. All we can do now is wait patiently for them to destroy themselves and execute all who are foolish enough to enter our city.”