“We’ve got bigger problems than litter.” Invictus stood up and walked over to a bar. He poured himself a drink and moved over to the window. He pointed to the outside world. “There’s an army somewhere out there. Just waiting. One day they’ll be foolish enough to come out of their little hole. And they’ll be stupid enough to think they still run things. We must find them and crush them before they emerge.”
“We’re looking, Great Lord Invictus. We—“
Invictus threw his glass against the wall. “Look harder! We have the advantage now. There’s no telling what they took with them when they went into hiding. That army could be our undoing.”
He stared out the window. The damned government had no idea what kind of world they left behind. He would be more than happy to show them once they emerged. But he would rather drag them out of their hole and show them. It would be best to wipe them out before they tried to reclaim the country.
“Did you get anything out of the last spy?” he asked.
“No, Great Lord Invictus,” the Praetor said with a shake of his head. “Just a surprising amount of blood.”
“Do you think that’s funny?”
“I thought it was clever.”
“Since you’re such a good judge of humor, let me ask you this. How funny do you think it would be if I threw you out the window?”
“Less so, Great Lord Invictus,” the Praetor said with a hard swallow.
The Great Lord let the threat hang in the air, but the truth was he was getting tired of throwing people out the window. It was still fun to listen to their screams and laugh at the ones that flapped their arms as if they were trying to fly, of course, but judging people, sentencing people, executing people—it was all becoming routine. He needed something to free him from his rut. He needed some excitement. “Is that fishing ship almost ready?”
The Praetor perked up. This he had an answer for. “Yes, Great Lord Invictus. The salvage operation is almost complete and we’ll be ready to send it over in a couple of days.”
“And who will we be making an example of this time?”
The Praetor’s confidence disappeared once more. “No one.”
“No one?”
“Not as of yet, Great Lord Invictus.”
Invictus looked out the window of Skylon Tower. From here he could see 8,000 square miles of his domain. “In all of my empire you can’t find someone that you think deserves to be tied to a ship and sent over the Falls?”
“It’s been pretty quiet lately, Great Lord Invictus.”
Invictus sighed and looked out the window. He now regretted throwing that morning’s attacker out the window. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. He chocked it up to working too hard. He knew he had been pushing himself lately, but what choice did he have? The populace wasn’t going to threaten itself. Still, he wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste. “Maybe, instead of standing here being a complete disappointment to me, you should be out there trying to find someone.”
“Who?”
“Oh I don’t know. Off the top of my head I’d say some of the Resistance members that are constantly working to undermine my authority!”
“Yes, Great Lord Invictus.” The Praetor snapped to attention. “Uh, which one?”
He could throw the Praetor out the window. Easily. But it would mean the headache of finding a new one. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, there’s just so many now. There’s the Liberty Belles, the Niagara Falls Liberteens and the Bushwackers?
“I haven’t heard of the last one.”
“To be honest we’re not sure if they are a resistance group or a band that hasn’t had any gigs yet.”
Invictus considered this for a moment. “Kill them to be sure.”
“There’s a new group trying to bring back hashtags, Great Lord Invictus.”
“Why haven’t I been told of this?”
“So far they haven’t really done anything. They just keep scribbling ‘#Resistance’ up all over the place.”
“What do they want?”
The Praetor shrugged. “No one knows, Great Lord Invictus.”
“Another group of fools that think they can run an empire better than me. Tell me, how would they do things any different?”
“They haven’t really done anything else. Just the graffiti. We’re not even sure they’re serious.”
“Well then maybe we should focus on the resistance group that is doing things. Bring me the head of the Bookkeepers.”
“But they’re just a bunch of nerds?”
Invictus grabbed the man by the cape and swung him toward the window. “They are organized nerds. They have inspired hundreds. It may seem lame to you but their organized protests, their symbols, their codes are the most immediate threat to your comfortable life. The most immediate threat next to me, that is.”
The Praetor groveled well. “I’ll find them, Great Lord Invictus.”
“Do not underestimate them.” He took a step closer to the open window. “All it ever takes is a push, Praetor. A gentle nudge can change everything.”
“I understand, Great Lord Invictus.” The Praetor didn’t pee himself and that was disappointing. Invictus thought it was funny when they peed themselves. And he didn’t have to clean it up. He had someone to do that for him.
“I hope you understand,” Invictus continued. “Because if that damned Librarian ever shows up here, that’s all the push they’ll need. He will rally them to action. They will follow him into war and I’ll make sure that you’re the first casualty. They must be destroyed before he gets here!”
SEVEN
Joshua let the door close silently behind him as Lord Stanley went to take a leak on Jim Carrey’s Riddler. The wax figure didn’t mind nor appreciate the attention and took the leak in stride. Joshua left the dog to shake things off and moved farther into the museum past dozens of historic and celebrity replicas.
The museum was just one of the many shots fired in the great Wax Wars that had plagued the area years before the world ended. Such a conflict was the only thing that could explain the existence of so many wax-based attractions lining each side of the river.
There were, of course, the standard wax museum trappings to begin with, but as the war went on the combatants were forced to develop new strategies and tactics. A movie-themed facility appeared but did little to change the battlefield. A rock-focused museum made, if even for a moment, a John Oates figure a very real possibility. The horror-themed museum chose terror as their weapon of wax. However, in a missed opportunity, they never considered a John Oates figure for their menacing menagerie. And across the river in New York, the history museum threatened to bore everyone to death by mixing wax with a healthy dose of learning. There was no telling for certain when the hostilities ceased, but it appeared to be sometime in the mid ’90s, as one could easily tell the artist behind the Forrest Gump figure had totally phoned it in.
Like everything else in the city, the museums had been scoured and looted for anything of value. As such, they looked completely untouched by the apocalypse with the exception of the growing yellow stain on Jim Carrey’s leg. This complete lack of interest in the museum made it an ideal safehouse on Invictus’s side of the river.
The others were already gathered around the DeLorean when Joshua arrived. An older man was poring over a map he had laid out across the hood while an Old English Sheepdog lay at his feet. Another man sat behind the wheel of the car dressed as Batman, screaming “Great Scott” and making engine sounds.
The grizzled man rolled his eyes and took a seat on the park bench next to old Forrest.
Joshua cleared his throat to get their attention.
The man in the DeLorean spun around and reached for his gun. The movement woke a Blue Heeler in the passenger seat that sprung up, quickly assessed the situation and went back to sleep. Once Batman recognized the two men, he set the gun in the passenger seat and asked “Well? How did it go?”
“About how we e
xpected,” Joshua said as he shoved Taylor Swift into a fountain and took a seat on the ledge of the water feature.
“Prick said no,” the man on the bench added.
“So did you, Lucas.” The older man never looked up from the papers on the car’s hood. “So did Josh. I would have, too. Everyone says no at first.”
“I didn’t,” said the man behind the wheel.
“No,” said Lucas, tossing an arm over the back of the bench. “You’re definitely the follower type.”
“He’ll come around,” the man with the maps said. “Just like the rest of us. Isn’t that right, Brittany?”
The Sheepdog looked up at the sound of her name, realized the question was rhetorical and went back to sleep.
“Oh, because we’re all the same, aren’t we, Eli?” Lucas suddenly realized he was snuggling with Tom Hanks and drew his arm back.
“It’s the nature of a solitary warrior to remain solitary,” Eli said. “Don’t you agree?”
“First of all, duh. Second of all, I’m nothing like you do-gooders,” Lucas said and punched Forrest for emphasis.
Joshua laughed. It was partly at the display of toughness but mostly at the comment.
“Something funny, Canuck?” Lucas asked, the question a thinly veiled threat.
“Yeah. Your tough guy act is hilarious. You’re just like the rest of us whether you want to admit it or not. Just like us, you chose to spend the apocalypse putting your life on the line to help other people.”
“For money, genius. You suckers do it for free, because you’re too stupid to charge for it. Especially Connor.”
“I especially don’t do it for the money?” Connor asked from behind the wheel. “How does that make sense?”
“No, I’m saying you’re especially stupid,” Lucas clarified.
Eli pulled a pair of reading glasses from his face and stood up from behind the maps. “So what are you doing here now, Lucas? There’s no money in revenge.”
“This time—“
“It’s personal,” the three men finished the statement for him.
Lucas pointed at each of them. “Screw all of you.”
“How many times was it personal out there in the wasteland, Lucas?” Joshua asked. “From everything I’ve heard about you, you were always working for the underdog. Does the losing side pay better?”
“Sometimes,” Lucas said and looked at the figure next to him.
“What about the time you saved the village full of children whose parents had been wiped out by the adults-only virus?” Eli asked.
“What about it?”
“Did they pay you in candy?”
“No. They—”
“Maybe they just gave you a bunch of homemade thank-you cards to hang on your fridge,” Connor said.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to charge a bunch of kids.”
Joshua was next. “What about that time you delivered the medical supplies to the colony suffering from Purlpedemia?”
“You want me to charge people for bringing them a box of Kleenex?”
“I heard that box of Kleenex was a truckload of a rare vaccine captured from a hostile band of satanic cult members.”
“Same difference,” Lucas said with a wave of his hand.
“What about—“ Connor started.
“What about what!” Lucas shouted and punched Forrest Gump so hard he dropped his box of chocolates. “What’s your point?”
“The point is,” Joshua said, “you’re not such a bad guy after all. You’d set a price, finish the job and then, at the end of it all, you’d tell them to keep their money. More times than not.”
“Those are just rumors,” he said and hit Forrest once more. The figure’s hand fell off and dropped to the floor. “You can’t believe everything you hear. Is everything they say about you true? The stories about you in Portland have to be exaggerated, right?”
The Canadian didn’t answer the question. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve spent the last few weeks together and I can see right through you. You may not like it, Lucas, but you’re a good person.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lucas mocked. “I’m the merc with a heart of gold, you’re the polite post-apocalyptic warrior and Eli’s the wise old wanderer. I get it. Whoopdeefuckingdoo, what a team are we.”
“Don’t forget me,” Connor said from behind the wheel of the DeLorean.
“But you’re just so forgettable,” Lucas said.
“So do you want to quit?” Joshua asked. “Are you going to try this alone? You see how well it worked out for that guy this morning. He cleared the bridge and got thrown from Skylon.”
“That guy was an idiot,” Lucas said. “I’m not.”
“Joshua is right. We need to stick together,” Eli said as he stepped to the center of the room. “What’s your call going to be, Lucas?”
Lucas looked around the room at each of the post-apocalyptic warriors and then down at his feet. “Invictus must die.”
“What did he do to you anyway?” asked Connor.
“Fuck you, kid,” Lucas replied. “That’s what he did to me.”
“Oh, so mysterious,” Connor mocked. Normally it would have been a weak reply, but it probably hurt more coming from Batman.
“That’s awfully funny coming from ‘The Stranger,’” Lucas said. “Could you have picked a dumber name?”
“It’s not dumb,” Connor said flatly. “It’s who I am.”
“It’s pretty dumb,” Lucas fired back.
“It’s no dumber than Eli’s,” Connor said.
Eli went back to his maps. “Leave me out of this.”
“Eli is The Man With No Name,” Lucas said. “That’s completely different.”
“It is not,” Connor protested as he pulled off the Batman mask.
“It’s totally different,” Lucas insisted. “For one, it’s way cooler.”
“I’m not sure this is helping,” Joshua said.
“Can it, Molson,” Lucas said. “How do we even know this guy, this Stranger, is who he claims to be?”
“I don’t know. He’s a stranger to me,” Joshua said. “That should count for something.”
“Thank you, Josh,” Connor said.
“Well I’ve never heard of you,” Lucas said.
“Oh no?” Connor walked toward the center of the room. “You never heard of the Stranger of Stab Wound Pass? The Arbor Day Stranger? The Stranger of the Fallen Tower?”
“Sure,” Lucas said. “I heard of all those guys.”
“They’re all the same guy!” Connor spat. “They’re all me.”
“How do I know it wasn’t just some guy?”
“It was. I’m that some guy. I’m the Stranger.”
“Well that is some piss poor marketing, pal.”
“Like The Mercenary is any better,” Connor said and turned with a dramatic flair of Batman’s cape.
“I’m not The Mercenary! I’m a mercenary. And people know what that is. It’s not some nebulous title.”
“Look, we all chose to remain anonymous.” Eli put out his hands to break up the argument and tried to bring some peace to the room. He pointed to Connor. “Some just more anonymous than others. But that doesn’t matter, because as much as you hate to admit it, Lucas, we are the same. The same path brought us here.
“We woke up one day and the world was on fire. And we saw it as our job to put it out. In doing so we helped a great many people. And we made more than a few enemies. But none so great as Invictus. And we all recognize that. He is the growth that has stopped the world from healing. He’s tortured the world as it’s struggled to recover and he’s tortured us personally. He put a bounty on our heads. He had our loved ones murdered. He’s tracked us across the country because we dared to stand against him. This evil must be removed for the world to move on.”
“And I get to kill him,” Lucas said.
“We talked about this,” Connor said. “I get to kill him. I had dibs.”
“Dibs?”
Lucas laughed. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? We’re not playing kids’ games here, kid. When the time comes, I’m taking him down.”
“That has not been decided, Lucas,” Eli said. “We all have a solid claim to the title of executioner.”
“Oh now we hear from the old folks.”
“They say to beware old men in a profession where men usually die young,” Joshua said.
“THEY say a lot of things,” Lucas admitted. “But THEY are all dead. Probably because THEY were stupid to begin with. I’m willing to work with you three to get to Invictus. But when the time comes to kill that bastard, you all had better stay out of my way.”
“Is that a threat?” Connor asked.
“Yes, it’s a threat, moron! What did you think it was?”
Connor stammered. “I…I thought it was a threat.”
“Well good for you,” Lucas whined. “And that was sarcasm to be clear. I’m sure you’re no stranger to that. Invictus is mine and he’s going to suffer for every wrong he’s done to me.”
“This isn’t about torture.” Eli raised his voice. He didn’t do that often. “It has to be about justice.”
“Sometime justice screams,” Lucas whispered.
“I never heard about justice screaming,” Connor argued.
“Oh? You’ve heard that justice is blind, right?”
“Yeah, that I’ve heard.”
“Well justice is going to scream when I gouge his fucking eyes out.” Lucas mimicked the gouging of justice’s eyes. His thumbs moved slowly and the expression on his face was one of delight. He finished the pantomime, wiped off his thumbs and looked back at Connor. “You have no idea what he’s done to me.”
“That’s because you won’t tell us!” Connor shouted.
“Enough!” the Canadian yelled. “This really isn’t helping.”
Lucas laughed. “Tell me you don’t want to be the one to put a bullet in that bastard’s head, Canuck.”
“I don’t care. As long as Invictus is dead and his influence is removed from this world, I don’t care who does it.”
Revenge of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 4) Page 6