American Apocalypse Wastelands (2 page)

One second I was ready to scream from pain. The next, I was ready to scream from rage. The pain was gone, replaced by a clear flame of burning rage
. C'mon, you fucker.

I planted myself. My one good leg felt like it had grown roots and anchored itself in the Virginia clay. I swung the Barrett to my shoulder and steadied it. The sight was folded down but I didn't need it, not at this range. I found what I hoped was the safety, not the magazine eject, and thumbed it in the opposite direction.

The helicopter hovered there in front of me, maybe seven hundred yards out. Alive and evil in all of its arrogance, its muscles tensed for another lethal swipe. I pulled the trigger.

The gunship shook with the impact of the round. I grinned. Partially because I had hit it, partially because I had thought the recoil would be a bitch. It wasn't, so I pulled the trigger again. And again. Damn, it was loud. I liked that. It didn't make a popping sound; it boomed!

When the second round impacted, the dragon started shaking itself like a wet dog. The third time I hit it, I knew it was dying but I didn't care. I shot it again, just because I wanted to.

That's when it died for real. It skipped sideways, up, and then it just rolled over and went down. The engine or rotors screamed like the flying creatures in
The Lord of the Rings
. I watched it, waiting for the explosion, wanting to see the fireball. I didn't see it, though. Instead, the Barrett became impossibly heavy. I flipped the safety and set it down. The damn thing worked pretty well.

 

I called out Night's name and went to get her. Together we went back and found Max and Carol. Medic Man was still around. Good, we were going to need him. I was glad to see Max up and moving.

“Time to move,” Max said. “Get off this hill now.”

Medic Man tried to take Night from me. “Alright, Gardener, I'll take her.”

No
, I thought.
Who the fuck does he think he is?

Max moved closer and quietly told me, “Hey, G, it's okay. We got to move. You can have her back when we get out of here.”

It made sense. I just didn't want to admit it. I leaned down to her and whispered, “I'm not going anywhere. He's just going to help you walk.”

Her only reply was a soft moan and quick increase in pressure from the arm that was around me. I let her go and watched as he took my place. I didn't like it and I almost fell over without her there to prop me up.

“Help him,” Max told Carol, meaning me. I guess she was my consolation prize. Funny, all these years I had known her, and tonight I'd had more physical contact with her than in all the time previous.

Max took the Barrett from me and we started moving. As we did I looked out over the county spread out in front of us. There were more fires flaring up in the distance. The Burners were running amok. They were always the most active when what passed for our civil authority was busy putting out fires of their making.

“Carol,” Max said over his shoulder, “when we get to the parking lot I want you to get in your car and get the hell out of here. We have maybe five minutes before what
they have in reserve for when rapid response shows up. When they do, they won't be in a good mood.”

She didn't answer him. He waited about ten seconds. Then he said, “Carol?”

“I know.” She didn't sound too happy about it. “You have a plan, Max?”

“I always have a plan, Carol. I always have a plan. We'll be fine.”

“You want to share it with me?” she asked. Max didn't say anything. I heard her mutter, “I thought so.”

Medic Man spoke up, “I have an idea.” He then proceeded to tell us about a truck he had nearby and his well-stocked basement. Apparently, Medic Man had some money and a plan of his own.

Max listened to him, thought about it for a second, and then said, “Sounds good. Let's do it.”

He added, “See, Carol? I told you I had a plan.” She laughed. Laughed isn't quite the right word. It was more a snort of amusement, affection, and sadness. We stopped in front of her car. Max told her, “Okay. Time to go, Carol.”

She nodded and let go of me after giving me a quick squeeze. “See you, Gardener. Take care of Night.”

I nodded, looked away, and scanned the horizon. I didn't want her to see my eyes right then.

She started toward her car, stopped, and looked at Max. He didn't say anything. He just reached out and laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb moving a strand of loose hair back in place. “See you later, Carol.”

I reached over and steadied myself on Medic Man's shoulder. “Let's go,” I told him. He didn't hesitate. It
seemed that he was in as big a hurry to move on as I was, or at least to move away.

For me it was because I knew it was unlikely I would be seeing Carol again. For him? I didn't know. I did know that he and Carol had a history. That was obvious; when and where was not.

Behind us I heard her car start up and then pull away. We reached the edge of the parking lot and were just beginning to move into the trees when I realized something.

“Hold up,” I told Medic Man. He stopped. “She didn't say goodbye to you.” I could hear Max's boots crunching on the gravel as he hurried to catch up with us.

“No. We said our goodbyes a long time ago.”

CHAPTER TWO

We moved on and found Medic Man's truck. I was glad it wasn't far away. I would take one step. Then I would take another and lie to myself.
Just one more step
.

Max rode up front after helping Night and me into the back. I could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't doing well. Medic Man had Max elevate her feet and then he covered both of us with a blue tarp—a good thing, as I was starting to get really cold. It occurred to me that I might even die. That didn't bother me. I had been ready to die since I was born.

We made it to his house without a problem. I don't remember everything that happened, especially after Medic Man pulled Mr. Woodie out. Most of it was a series of disjointed clips, little one-minute movie scenes that I'm not even sure were real.

I remember Max convincing me to go with a shot of morphine. I didn't want to. But he convinced me that it was a good idea. He was right. Oh yes, that was a nice buzz—until Medic Man started working on me.

I remember Max telling me, “You know, we're going to have to get you chain mail underwear. You don't need a vest. The only place you ever get hit is in the ass.”

I remember listening to him. It all sounded so far away. The last thing I heard him say was, “Damn, nice sized woodie you got there. I bet that's got to be at least six inches. You want him to save it for you? Kind of a keepsake for when you were actually well hung?”

Then I drifted away. Later I came to for a few minutes and was sure he was telling me, step by step, how to field strip an M-16. Every time I would pop back up to the surface I'd hear his voice and relax and go back under.

I had come to. I had been elsewhere and hadn't wanted to come back to the surface, but I knew something was wrong. Bad wrong.

I opened my eyes and saw Medic Man sitting at Night's head, holding her arms down. She was thrashing and moaning. He had bandaged the back of her head, neck, and part of her back. Watery stains outlined in red marked the whiteness of the gauze. The blanket that had covered her was off, and she was wearing nothing but the bandages on her back.

I knew what he was doing. She would tear the bandages off and open the wounds if she wasn't restrained. Yet I didn't like the way he looked and how he was positioned next to her, his crotch almost in her face.

He was getting ready to do something. I knew this. First though, he decided to look around, which only confirmed it. He saw me watching him and his face changed ever so slightly. He was good. His eyes didn't stay on me for more than a millisecond. He reached down, pulled the blanket up, and told her softly to be still. She already
was. She had stopped moving a couple beats after I had opened my eyes.

He let go of her, got up, and went over to check on Max who was stretched out on the floor about eight feet away. His eyes were open and he was watching Medic Man too. For a second they glowed red.

I knew Medic Man had also seen it because he froze. Then Max closed his eyes, and the morphine pulled me back down. Just not as deep this time. It wanted to, and I wanted to go, but I could no longer accept its embrace.

 

Probably twenty-four hours later, maybe less, I started coming to for greater periods of time. Medic Man was always there. He brought me water without asking and gave me more pills.

When I asked him what they were for, he said, “Infection. It's what I am worried about the most. Then it will be muscle damage.”

He was chewing gum like a fiend. I was conscious enough to overhear an exchange between him and Max during this period.

 

“I need your keys. I also need a gun—preferably a shotgun with a mix of slug and buckshot.” This was from Max. It was good to know he was up and mobile already.

“Sure,” Medic Man said. But he couldn't hide his surprise. “Let me give you the keys to the Lexus. I haven't unloaded the truck yet.”
Interesting
, I thought, how casually and quickly Medic Man agreed to this. “So where you going?”

“Back to the motel.” I didn't have to look to know Max was grinning. He continued, “You want to come?”

“Ah … not really. I got to stay here. Look out for them. Just in case.”

“No problem. Got any more speed?”

“Yeah, sure.”

About ten minutes later, after hearing movement and the sound of a shotgun being racked, I heard Max say, “If I'm not back in twenty-four hours, tell Gardener it was real.”

I laughed to myself when I heard that. I also decided to get up and take a leak. I had been through this before when I fell on a rake that was tines side up. This was worse, probably because the wound was deeper.

Night was awake also. Together we hobbled to the bathroom. I let her go first, and then I hobbled in. It was not fun. Thank God I didn't have to sit down. I made a mental note to avoid food high in fiber for the next four or five weeks. Maybe I could set a record for going the longest period of time without a bowel movement.

When I came out, Medic Man was standing there with Night, waiting for me. I asked him if he had a T-shirt I could have. He found one and gave it to me. I cut the back out of it and gave it to Night to wear. I think she was as touched by my doing that as she would have been if I had brought her a bouquet of flowers. I was never going to understand women, let alone the human race.

Medic Man wanted to take a look at us after that. Night was growing a lovely crop of blisters.

“How does it look?” Night asked Me.

I almost said, “Horrible,” but managed to bite my tongue in time.

Medic Man answered for me. “It's not as bad as it looks. I don't see any gray or charred flesh. I think you got lucky. Just second-degree burns.”

She was silent for a minute and then asked quietly, “Will I scar?”

“No, I don't think so. Maybe a few faint ones at the most,” he said.

I could tell she was relieved. He hit me in the thigh with more antibiotics and gave me the pill version to wash down. Then he made us chicken soup from a can. He didn't even water it down very much. He was being remarkably generous with expensive supplies, for no reason that I could tell. I did not like that. Plus, I just did not like him.

We were sipping our soup out of coffee mugs when I asked him, “So, how do you know Carol?”

He paused, smiled into his cup of soup before looking up, and then said, “Well, I was married to her for a couple years.”

Night was watching me. Why was she watching me? She should be watching him.

I replied, “Oh, that would probably do it.” A totally lame answer that really made no sense. So this was the never-spoken-of first husband. Yeah, I didn't like him.

There was a bit of an awkward pause. Medic Man picked up the slack by telling me how he wanted to use maggots on my wound later. “It's an old remedy. They eat your dead flesh and leave the good flesh behind.” He sounded excited about the idea. I wondered how excited he would be if it was his own flesh getting gnawed on by worms. I was getting tired again and let it go. Night helped me back to my mat and lay down next to me. I was asleep in less than a minute.

I woke up almost ten hours later when I heard Max's voice. He wasn't alone. Ninja had survived. That was it.
No one else. As soon as Ninja saw Night, he burst into tears. He just stood there, his head down, and sobbed. Night went up to him. She couldn't hug him and he had to settle for an awkward arm pat.

They were both crying. I didn't know what to do. I knew I was supposed to do something, so I went over, slapped him on the shoulder, and told him I was sorry. Then I left the room, but not before I noticed Medic Man's sneer.

That's when I remembered his name. It was Jake. “Jake the Snake”—that's what I decided I would call him, at least in my head.

 

Four days later, I woke up and stumbled out into the main area of the basement rubbing my eyes. Everyone was gathered around Jake's big flat-panel watching the Icelandic News Channel. Iceland was the cool country now, especially since it was almost impossible to emigrate there. It had become a combination of Switzerland and Israel. Its transformation from the first bankrupt nation to the only one with a growing economy had been amazing.

At first it had seemed like the people there were doomed. Following the financial ruin, the cod banks had disappeared. Climate change was a double-edged sword for them. The people who didn't flee for Scandinavia decided to make the best of what they had: unlimited geothermal power and the best-educated workforce left in the Western World. Greenhouses and what fish remained fed them.