Revenge of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 4), Page 4

  Coy smiled through missing teeth and grabbed Christopher’s wrist. He slammed the man’s hand against the wooden stand and drove a knife through the palm.

  Mr. Christopher screamed and tried to pull it free but The Coyote wouldn’t let him.

  He pinned the bounty hunter against the wall. “You’re going to help me, Chris. I want to make sure my list of names isn’t missing any…names. So we’re going to talk. And then I’m going to kill you.”

  FOUR

  They started following him as soon as he left Charlie’s Arm. Two men and one big, hairy dog. The men weren’t dressed any different from the other people in town, but they appeared a little less downtrodden and walked with more confidence than the general populace.

  The dog was a Newfoundland covered in dark brown fur and a fair amount of drool. It was a massive creature, but the breed’s dopey expression gave it a friendly enough look as it loped along beside the man.

  The dog’s owner had a friendly, if not suspicious look, about him. It was like if he ever had to kill you, he wouldn’t hesitate, but he’d probably say sorry while he did it. Relatively clean and recently shaven, he was easy enough to pick out of the crowd. The other man was grizzled, had an unkempt beard and wore a pissy expression like he was the kind of man that used to get upset and yell at strangers on the internet. Now that there was nowhere left to vent, the irritation came out in his face. He had hard blue eyes that had seen things and squinted in every direction.

  Jerry and Chewy walked toward the river and one of the men soon peeled off the tail. Thinking they had gone unnoticed, the other man and his dog stayed behind them.

  The Librarian played along and went about his business. They passed more and more guards as they approached the Rainbow Bridge. The entrance was now barricaded and defended by two dozen men in black capes who, judging by their expressions, were even less friendly than the pair he had encountered earlier. He gave them a wide berth and acted disinterested in the bridge itself, but a cursory glance revealed a flurry of activity on the span as the men worked to repair the damage from the morning’s attack.

  The Librarian turned and continued upstream to an observation deck that jutted out over the river. At Prospect Point a tower rose from the base of the river to well above street level, while the observation deck itself connected to the street and ran out past the tower and over the river to give visitors a limited view of Horseshoe Falls. The tower itself had once served as access to boat tours below. Visitors once rode the elevator down to the river, where they would board the famous Maid of the Mist fleet of ships for an up-close and very wet view of the great wonder.

  A glance over his shoulder revealed that the man and his dog were still doing their best to act like they weren’t following him. Jerry made his way down the observation deck as if he hadn’t seen the pair and looked toward the Falls. Even if the Maid of the Mist fleet hadn’t washed away years ago, it wouldn’t have been much of a tour. The base of the Falls had become a collection point for the drifting hulks and abandoned ships of the Great Lakes. They said that every vessel left afloat would eventually find its way here. And many already had. Several large ships were already piled up in the plunge pool beneath the Falls, unaware or uncaring that they were ruining the view.

  Despite the cold weather, there were several other spectators on the platform with him. No one seemed particularly interested in the view. He guessed that even something as spectacular as the Falls would become a boring sight if you had to look at it every day. More than likely, they were watching for visitors. Tourism had certainly slowed after the end of the world but Alasis, and anywhere with electric light, drew its fair share of travelers. The ideal ones would be more focused on the Falls than their valuables. He stared at the Falls and looked the part of the easy mark, but no one approached him. Chewy saw to that. The dog’s mere presence made everyone else’s pockets easier to pick.

  He loitered for twenty minutes before making his way back to town. The man and his dog had disappeared. In their place was their companion from earlier. The grizzled tail looked out over the river and paid no attention to Jerry as he passed. He and Chewy turned upstream and crossed the smaller American Falls by way of a footbridge to Goat Island before making their way to Terrapin Point.

  This lookout area sat just above the Horseshoe Falls and provided an excellent view of the rusting boats in the river below. It also gave him a better view of what he had really been looking at back at the platform. A casino tower was directly across the river. The lights were on inside and from his vantage point it barely looked like time had touched the building at all. But it had certainly been corrupted. Invictus had made the tower his capital and his residence. Even from here, Jerry could see the fortifications ringing the base of the building. They looked considerable.

  To get his revenge, he would have to get inside and find Invictus without getting killed by the hundreds of soldiers that no doubt filled the building. That was going to take some doing.

  The military presence on Goat Island was thick itself and a short stroll revealed why. Pulled by the mighty force of the Falls, a fishing trawler had found its way downriver. Before it could join the others at the bottom, a salvage crew had tethered it and set to work stripping it of any valuable materials. Citizens formed the work crew, but more crimson-caped guards oversaw the operation. They didn’t have the friendliest management style. It consisted mainly of swearing and threatening to shoot everyone. But, even if it wasn’t the most HR compliant approach, it was effective, and the citizens moved about quickly unloading the cargo from the ship and then heading back for more.

  Jerry took the 1st Street Bridge back into town and met his tail there. The man and the Newfoundland let him pass without incident and waited before following him once more. Despite the fact that the man and his dog had been shadowing him all day, he wasn’t getting a dangerous feeling from the pair like he did from the other man. Still, he was getting tired of being followed and he decided it was finally time for everyone to meet.

  Leading Chewy through one of the many shantytowns, he began a series of stair-step maneuvers through the narrow avenues formed by the hovels. It wouldn’t shake the man following him. He knew that. But it would make deciding where to introduce himself his decision.

  He finally decided it would be a former postal box shop. He was far enough ahead of his tail now that he had to wait to be spotted. Once the man caught sight of him, he darted into the shop through a broken window and screamed for Chewy to follow.

  Like everywhere else after the apocalypse, the place had been ransacked. But it had never been repurposed, and the floor was littered with torn packages and the contents that scavengers had found useless. Slipping and sliding on the shipping materials, he rushed through the shop and out the back door where he stopped, waited and then clotheslined his tail as the man chased after him.

  The Newfie scrambled out the door and growled at the Librarian. Chewy crashed into the dog and the two began to circle one another, growling and snarling. There were a few false charges from each dog but it was mostly a show of force at this point.

  The man leapt from the ground quicker than Jerry expected. He didn’t attack. He just held his throat and coughed.

  “I don’t like being followed.” Jerry took a step forward but the man put up his hand like he didn’t want to fight.

  Another hand landed on Jerry’s shoulder and the Librarian spun to find the second tail. The man with the pissy look on his face was in the process of throwing a left hook. Jerry deflected it with his forearm and pulled his left arm into his waist to absorb a body blow from the man’s right. He blocked another combination of punches before he had a chance to counter.

  The dogs continued their dance to determine dominance and the teeth were really starting to come out now. Chewy had the weight advantage by a few pounds but her size wasn’t enough to deter the Newfie.

  Jerry took an unconventional stance. His right arm was dominant, but he led with it nonet
heless. He had always reasoned that he’d land more jabs than power punches and figured it was best to have those do the most damage. He snuck two through the man’s defenses and put Mr. Pissy back on his heels.

  The other man was back on his feet now and grabbed Jerry from behind in a bear hug and pinned his arms to his side.

  “Easy now,” was all the man could say before Jerry reacted.

  He stepped to the right and back, placing his leg behind his attacker’s while reaching for the man’s opposite ankle. He lifted the leg, reared back and drop slammed the man onto the concrete.

  His other attacker moved in with an insult and a quick right that caught Jerry on the side of the neck. The left followed predictably, and Jerry was able to step inside of the hook. He exploded forward, carrying himself and the man back across the alleyway and into the side of a dumpster. Jerry pinned him there and drove fist after fist into the man’s ribs while his enemy responded with hammer blows to Jerry’s back.

  The dogs’ growling turned to snarls and Jerry could hear the sound of snapping jaws over the grunts he and his opponent were putting out.

  “Lord Stanley, heel,” came the command, and half the growling ceased. Chewy wasn’t quite ready to disengage. The voice then addressed the man on the dumpster. “Let him go.”

  “The hell with that. He’s still hitting me.”

  “Just stop. Both of you, please. Guy, we just want to talk.”

  The fists on his back started getting lighter and lighter and finally stopped.

  Jerry stood up and stared at his attacker. The man’s face was ragged and rough, but it had been that way long before Jerry had started hitting it. His eyes were cold and the windows to a black soul. But he could see that the fight was over. He put one more fist in the man’s stomach and dropped him to the ground.

  He turned to face the other man and called Chewy off. The growling stopped and the mastiff moved to her master’s side.

  “We know who you are,” the man said.

  The man against the dumpster coughed with a nod and began the long process of standing up.

  “You know who I am?” Jerry asked.

  “We know why you’re here. It’s why we’re all here. We all have a score to settle across the river.”

  “So you don’t know who I am.”

  “We know your type. A post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior. You’re a loner with a code. You stand up for what’s right. You help people. And in doing that, you ran afoul of Invictus and his killers. He didn’t like you standing up for people and struck back. So now you’re here to get even. Does that sound about right?”

  Jerry didn’t say anything.

  The man just shrugged. “We can smell our own.” He stuck out his hand and stepped closer. “The name’s Joshua.”

  Jerry looked at the outstretched hand but did not shake it.

  Joshua chuckled and pointed to the man by the dumpster. “That’s Lu—“

  “No names,” the man interrupted and spat on the ground.

  Joshua continued. “I’m sure my story isn’t that different from yours, though mine started on the other side of the border.”

  “I’ve heard of you,” Jerry said. “They call you the Mad Max with Manners.”

  “People say things.” Joshua blushed a bit and gave him a sheepish grin. “But I’m no hero. I just want to do what’s right. And doing what’s right got me on the wrong side of Alasis. He started up in Canada, you know? Invictus. I guess he figured it would be easier to conquer us Canucks. No less spirit, but not nearly as many guns as you all have in the States. But Armageddon was enough to finally piss us all off and we did what we could to fight back.”

  The Newfoundland barked at his side.

  “Oh, of course you’ve already met Lord Stanley.”

  “Lord Stanley?” Jerry asked.

  “I just call him that for short,” Joshua said. “He’s actually Son of Lord Stanley.”

  “Don’t do this, Bob and Doug,” the man by the dumpster groaned.

  “That’s right,” Joshua continued. “He’s Lord Stanley’s pup.”

  “No one likes it when you do that,” he groaned.

  Jerry rolled his eyes. “You’re really playing to type, aren’t you?”

  “Are you going to help us or not?” This came from the man against the dumpster. His demeanor wasn’t nearly as cheery as Joshua’s.

  “I don’t know,” Jerry replied. “It kind of goes against the whole lone warrior mystique. Don’t you think?”

  “But you’re not alone,” Lucas said. “You’re not the only one that wants to see Invictus pay for all he’s done.”

  Jerry shook his head. “Sorry fellas. Teaming up has never really worked out for me.”

  “So you’re going to take on a whole army by yourself?” The grizzled warrior asked. “You’re not too bright.”

  “I think you guys know the drill. Contact the Resistance. Win their trust. Give a rousing speech and overthrow the dictator. It’s fairly standard stuff.”

  “You think we didn’t try that?” He threw an elbow into the dumpster for effect. The receptacle boomed but it also hurt his elbow. He did his best to hide the pain as he continued. “We all tried that. This town has the most stubborn resistance I’ve ever seen.”

  Jerry shrugged. “Yeah, but you’ve never seen one of my ‘rise up’ speeches. I’m told they’re quite good.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’ve got an army of people. One of the most organized I’ve ever seen. But they won’t listen. They won’t listen to anyone except the Librarian. They’ve got it in their heads that he’s their leader or something. The whole city walks around with books in their arms in protest. They shush people, in protest. They really have a thing for this guy. It’s annoying.”

  “Well, I guess I’m in luck then.” The news was shocking to him. He had never set out to be a leader. Or an inspiration, or a legend. He had always run from his reputation. It had been nothing but trouble. But, now it looked like it might finally pay off. It was finally time to own up to who he was, and he might as well start with these two.

  “I am the Librarian.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected but the laughter wasn’t part of it. The Canadian tried to stifle his, but the man at the dumpster needed a minute before he could even speak again.

  “You can’t be the Librarian. I’m the Librarian.” He doubled over laughing again. He pointed at Joshua. “And he’s the Librarian.”

  Jerry narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

  Joshua composed himself first. “Don’t bother, buddy. We’ve all tried telling them we’re the Librarian. It doesn’t work.”

  “But, I am—“

  Another burst of laughter from the grizzled man cut him off.

  “Never mind,” Jerry said and started walking away.

  “Wait,” Joshua said and chased after him. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to laugh. We’re serious here. I don’t know who you are but it’s obvious you can handle yourself. Invictus needs to be stopped and the more men we have the better.”

  More people could mean a better chance at toppling Invictus’s army. But it also increased the chance of betrayal. The horrors of Eternal Hope, Colorado flashed through his mind. That had been the result of misplaced trust and it was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make again. And, selfishly, Invictus was his to kill. He looked at Joshua and whistled for his dog. She stood up, and Chewy and The Librarian walked away.

  FIVE

  He worked his way down the hall, doing his best not to touch the walls. They were cold enough in the summer and this time of year he worried his hands might stick to them like a tongue on a lamp post. Touching them was unavoidable, however, as the floor slanted beneath him. Planking had been put down to level it out but that was shaky at best. Some of the wooden planks floated in puddles of water. One shifted under his weight and a sploosh sent a rush of near-freezing water up his pant leg. It clung to his shin and sent a shiver through his body as he tried to steady himse
lf. He reached out instinctively and touched the wall. His hand didn’t stick. It was silly to think it would. But the metal was almost painfully cold and he pulled his hand back quickly.

  The boy looked down and found himself ankle deep in the water and swore. He looked at his sock and remembered something his parents had told him. Before the world as everyone had known it ended, people use to complain about everything. Especially stupid things. They would complain about having to wait in line. It didn’t matter what was at the end of the line. They would complain even if it was something amazing. They would complain about things not moving fast enough and they would complain about things happening too fast. Food was one of their favorite things to complain about. But no one complained about food now. One of the things his parents said they liked about the end of the world was that, despite losing almost everything, people complained a lot less. They said it put things in perspective and that he should always think before complaining. So he thought long and hard before he finally decided that cold wet socks still sucked and he should be free to bitch about them.

  He shook what water he could off his foot and staggered on down the hallway. There were voices ahead and they were arguing. The adults told him it was called debating, but he knew arguing when he heard it. He was ten. He wasn’t stupid. Some resistance. They spent more time fighting each other than the enemy.

  The child pushed back the shoddy wooden door and stepped inside as quietly as a crappy, crooked homemade door would allow. He didn’t want them to hear him. He didn’t want to interrupt. It wasn’t courtesy as much as that he liked it when the adults argued. They used the best words. Especially when they didn’t know he was there.

  They were really going at it this time. Gatsby was yelling at Pride and she was just waiting for her chance to fight back. She always had the best comebacks because Gatsby was an idiot. The boy smiled as he realized no one saw him come in.

  “It’s time to act,” the woman said. “Lelawala is ready. We can—”