Trevor stepped forward at the same time as Petrelli raised his gun to pistol-whip Matt. Matt, expecting this, relaxed into the zone and watched the world go into slow-motion.
As Petrelli’s right hand came down at Matt’s head, Matt raised his left arm in to block. While that arm redirected the blow to the outside, his right hand shot up to strike Petrelli in the point of the chin with an open-palm strike. Petrelli was a big man, but the jaw and teeth aren’t protected by a whole lot of muscle. Petrelli broke several teeth and missed a broken jaw only because Matt didn’t have the angle. Matt’s knee came up into Petrelli’s abdomen, just below the breastbone. There was a woofff as Petrelli lost any breath he may have had and folded at the waist. Matt pushed down on the back of Petrelli’s head and pulled up on his right shoulder. Petrelli did a perfect horizontal pirouette, marred only by a face-first landing on the concrete floor as he completed the rotation. There was a loud crunch as his nose shattered.
***
Meanwhile, Charles had brought up his gun, possibly to take a shot, possibly to make threats. Before he could make his intentions known, Richard whispered, “Hey asshole.”
As Charles turned towards him, Richard delivered a horizontal elbow strike to the center of Charles’ forehead. Since the blow was backed by 220 pounds of angry physicist, Charles went down without an argument.
***
Bluto was momentarily frozen as he witnessed attacks on both Charles and Andy. He made a decision and moved to help his boss. In doing so, he dismissed Erin and Monica as non-combatants.
In Bluto’s world, women didn’t fight. Women screamed while holding their faces. Or women ran while screaming. Or best yet, women grabbed their boyfriend’s arm and tried to drag them away from the fight, in effect hobbling them.
The first indication that Bluto had miscalculated was a propane canister spranging into the side of his head. The canister made a surprisingly pure ping sound, and Bluto saw stars. There was another ping and more stars as Erin applied a second treatment. Then Monica came around in front of Bluto and wound up into a full-on punt kick where it would do him the least good. The effort was marred by a bad angle and by Bluto’s thick thighs, but it was still more than enough to make him lose interest in his boss’ problems.
Somehow, Bluto didn’t lose his gun, and he didn’t quite go to his knees. Gathering every ounce of strength he had, he forced out “You bitch!” while slowly bringing up the gun.
The girls squealed and ran in different directions. As Bluto started to swivel and aim, he heard a clickety-click. He turned his head to see one of the kids bearing down on him holding a pump-action shotgun. The kid had murder on his face, and he had the drop on Bluto. Bluto decided to depend on the general principle that decent law-abiding people won’t shoot you in the back. He turned, grabbed his boss by the collar, and yanked him off the ground.
Andy came up, his face a swollen and bleeding mass of red with two unfocused eyes staring out of the mess. Bluto turned toward the exit, but the damned kid with the twelve-gauge had cut him off. The bitch that had nutted him was yelling at the kid to shoot, and she looked like she was running to get a weapon herself. Charles was staggering to his feet, but didn’t look like he was going to be much help for a while. Bluto looked around frantically. Normally, he took orders from Andy. Andy did management. Bluto did the work.
He looked at the big open door to the field outside. Bluto had a moment of puzzlement—he was sure they hadn’t driven far enough to be completely out of town. But it was an exit, it didn’t have a kid with a gun in front of it, and they could always circle around and come back once they regrouped.
And when they did, these kids would get a lesson in manners.
Bluto dragged himself and his boss through the big exit to the meadow— and freedom— beyond. Charles, still wobbly, grabbed his gun from the floor and dove through the exit as well, running to catch up with his associates.
***
Richard stomped over to the gate, grabbed one of the cables, and yanked it out. The gate closed. “And fuck you very much!” he yelled into the air.
There was a moment of stunned, frozen silence as everyone tried to take in the events of the last few minutes. Erin stood there with her hands over her mouth, gasping. Monica had an expression on her face that suggested she’d like to go another round. Kevin was off to the side, bent over and moaning, “Oh god, oh god.” From the odor, he had thrown up. Bill stood in place, staring down at the shotgun in his hand.
“What the hell just happened?” Bill asked. For once, he had no witticisms or movie references to offer.
“We just got a visit from the mob, I think,” Richard said.
“Mob, hell,” Monica retorted. “If that guy was Italian, I’m Mike the Knight. Did you hear him? He talked like Fat Tony from the Simpsons.”
Matt smiled weakly. “Moxie.”
Richard said, “Okay, so those were some local tough guys who thought they’d muscle in on us. Which raises the question, of course: How in the nine circles of hell did they find out about us?”
“You heard what he said,” Erin replied. “ ‘Large gold transactions.’ Someone blabbed.” She went over to sit down at the kitchen table.
“Well this is just fucking great.” Richard exclaimed. “We can’t use any of those offices anymore?”
“Holy hell,” Bill chimed in. “This was supposed to be so straightforward. Got a cool new invention, go get gold, trade for money, live happily ever after. Not so much, as it turns out.”
Richard sat down and put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe the extent to which I keep getting things wrong.”
There was a moment of silence. “So what now?” Matt asked.
Richard started to reply, hesitated for a moment, then said, “We have well over a million in the bank. We can walk away right now.”
“Two hundred thou each, give or take,” Matt said. “It’s nice money, and no question it’s life-changing, but you can’t retire on it. We’d still all have to get jobs, or—”
Monica interrupted, almost shouting. “Y’know what? I bet our faux mobsters there are it. I bet it’s just the three of them, otherwise they’d have brought more. Some small-town tough guys who are used to beating on crack-heads. I am not going to let them rule my life. I say we just keep to the plan.”
Monica’s speech seemed to give everyone new heart. They stood a little straighter, looked more resolute.
“Hey guys?” it was Kevin. He was cleaning up after himself. He looked hangdog and shame-faced. “Does anyone remember that those guys went through the gate? They’re on the other side.”
“So? Fuck’em.” Monica said.
“It’s not just that. I’m not happy about leaving them to die, even if they did point guns at us. But they’ll come back once they figure out there’s no civilization out there. We can’t set up our storage sheds here. They still have guns. Two, anyways.”
Everyone was silent for a few seconds.
“All right, how about this?” Monica said. “We put a written message on the other side, on a piece of plywood or something. We’ll check every day at some specified time for some number of days, using the pole-cam. We’ll bring them back if they toss their guns through first and come through with their hands up. If they don’t come back, there’s nothing we could do anyway. None of us is a tracker.”
“That sounds like a good compromise,” Richard said. “And if they talk about our operation, we’ll press charges. Not foolproof, but better than a kick in the crotch.”
Monica chuckled and blushed a little.
“Meanwhile,” Richard continued, “we’ll have to find another base. If there are more goons, they know about this place, and if we get these three back, you can bet they won’t just walk away. Matt, as of now we pull the controller cards when we’re not using the portals. They’re boat anchors without those.”
Bill piped up, “Listen, Richard, the assay services are only a risk because we’re bringing in raw go
ld. That’s unusual enough to get attention. But gold buyers bring in gold all the time, and I bet in pretty significant quantities. All we have to do is smelt the gold ourselves. I could set up a small furnace easily enough.”
Matt looked at Bill, looked around the warehouse, and said, “Hey, why not? You’ve already pretty much taken over.”
Richard grimaced. “Wish we’d done that in the first place.”
Monica went up to him. “Come on, big guy, don’t be so hard on yourself. None of us thought of any of this. It’s not like there’s a manual for this stuff.”
Richard sighed and smiled at Monica, before continuing. “Okay, let’s get this done. Bill, put up a sign on the other side. Matt, collect the other controller cards. I’ll start a search for another warehouse, as far from here as possible.”
Mid-Day Move
“No active geology happening anywhere within a thousand miles of here, and yet, we’re actually looking at the result of a truly cataclysmic eruption…”
Mike Voorhies, paleontologist.
From Super Volcano: The Ticking Time Bomb Beneath Yellowstone National Park
Another move was complete, this one in the middle of the day, so they were glad it was Saturday. Both of the warehouse complexes were quiet, and traffic was light. They moved the kitchen, then all their purchased supplies and arsenal, then last of all the portal equipment.
They stood in the new warehouse, looking at everything that they had accumulated. The rented moving van was still parked outside the rolling door, waiting to have the last cargo run unloaded.
They had kept to their word and checked for several days at the old location, but the goons had never reappeared. At this point, everyone agreed that the goons were probably dead. This caused a certain amount of guilt, and there had been some talk of getting the police involved. Monica had squelched this by suggesting that they would call the cops once they came up with what they would say. It had taken more than an hour of ‘um’ and ‘er’ before everyone came to the realization that every explanation would put them in a thorough shit-storm of trouble, both with the law and with any potential associates of Mr Petrelli.
In normal human fashion, they had decided not to rock the boat. The goons would likely never be found, and they would not likely be missed. The group agreed that the cops would not be sorry to see them gone.
***
“Okay, we’re here,” Richard said. “And we’ve got this warehouse not registered in any of our names. As stupid as I feel saying it—I hate to sound like Bill—we’ll have to watch for tails when coming and going.”
“I’m just glad we hadn’t already started putting up the sheds at the old place,” Bill said. “Can we get going on that? I feel kind of stupid myself with all this stuff—” He motioned to the stacks of equipment and supplies. “—just lying around.”
“I’d be happier,” Erin added.
Richard waved a hand. “Okay, guys. Point taken. Plus we’ve been paying rental on the bobcat and backhoe and not doing anything with them. That gets me right in the wallet.” He grinned at them.
“Well I’m done for the day, I think.” Bill said, stretching. “What say we work on that tomorrow?”
No one argued. It had been a long, physical day, and everyone had had enough.
Matt rose from his chair with a theatrical groan, went to the truck and moved it inside the warehouse through the delivery door, and they locked up.
Activity
True to their word, the men met early Sunday morning at the warehouse.
Richard said, “Erin and Monica will be in later. Something about a shoe emergency. So meanwhile, let’s see about these sheds.”
They reviewed the instructions for the sheds. Bill and Richard renewed their argument, then eventually agreed to wait until the ground was set up and they were ready to build. Finally, they decided they could start work.
Matt moved the van back outside, through the delivery doors. Bill and Kevin unloaded a portal generator from the van and set up the truck gate inside the warehouse, while Richard and Matt went to prep the bobcat and the backhoe. As soon as they opened the truck gate, Richard drove the bobcat through and began flattening the area needed for two large sheds. Matt took the backhoe and started digging trenches for the walls, taking direction from Bill, who was laying out the location. Kevin, per standard operational procedures, stayed Earthside in case something went wrong with the gate.
Once they had laid the groundwork, they swapped the forklift attachment onto the bobcat. Matt began driving supplies through the gate, starting with the shed pallets. Bill and Richard started building the sheds.
They discovered, however, that the claim that the large sheds could be assembled by two people was barely true, and only if you had a lot of spare time. They drafted Matt and the bobcat to help with assembly. Using the forklift to raise sections sped up the work considerably. The men got into a routine, and before long they had one shed assembled and the second one laid out in preparation.
At this point, Richard called lunch break.
They shut down the equipment, stepped back Earthside, and Kevin turned off the gate.
With no pizza delivery on a Sunday afternoon, Matt and Bill drove out in Matt’s truck and did a pick-up order. Soon they were all sitting around the warehouse kitchen table, eating pizza and drinking beer.
“Can’t operate heavy machinery, now,” Bill said, holding up the beer.
Kevin snickered.
At that moment, Monica and Erin burst into the warehouse, out of breath. “Have you seen the news?” Erin exclaimed.
The men looked at each other in consternation, then at Erin. “No, what’s up?” Matt asked.
“Yellowstone. It’s become more active. Very much more active. It’s got more lava flows and almost constant tremblors. And there’ve been more hydrothermal explosions.”
“More what?” Matt replied. He reached over to the TV and turned it on. Monica, meanwhile, helped herself to some pizza.
“Lava flows,” Erin answered. “A lot of lava glooping out. Generally you can walk fast and stay in front of it. Yellowstone had an episode similar to this about 70,000 years ago. That’s where the lava came from that fills most of the Yellowstone caldera today.
“However, the hydrothermal explosions are an added bonus. That’s what’s getting people agitated.”
“Well that’s unfortunate for the park of course,” Bill answered. “But does it affect us?”
“Hmm, as it is, maybe some ash, maybe some smoke, maybe even a big earthquake or two. Small potatoes. But if this is a precursor, it could be worse. Much worse.”
“Okay,” Bill said, “I’ll bite. How much worse?”
“End of civilization?” Erin replied.
“Oh wow…” Kevin said.
“It’s, the, end of the world as we know it…” Bill started to sing.
“SHUT UP!” five voices shouted in unison.
Matt tuned to CNN. The TV showed a view of a large fissure with lava flowing from it. The caption below it read “YELLOWSTONE LIVE”. The video was being shot from a helicopter with maximum magnification—it had that shaky, won’t-stay-in-focus aura so common in extreme-distance shots. Off-screen, a commentator described the scene and regurgitated quotes from the USGS and the Governor’s office.
“They’re too close,” Erin commented.
“What?” Monica asked.
“The helicopter. They’re too close if it erupts.”
“How far would be far enough?” Monica asked.
“Um…” Erin replied, “hundred miles minimum,” and turned away.
The group attempted to get back to moving equipment out of the van, but it soon became obvious that nothing was going to get done any time soon. Richard locked the van, and they all came to the kitchen and sat down to watch.
In the middle of an interview, one of the anchors interrupted the latest expert talking head. “We’re taking you back to Yellowstone, where our reporters have informed us
that activity has dramatically increased.”
The view cut to the same uber-magnified view of Yellowstone, but there were now a lot more cracks and fissures opening up and oozing lava. In several places, explosions threw large masses of rock through the air. As the reporter tried to describe what the viewers were already seeing, there was a sudden blinding flash. The TV image saturated, while screams and curses were heard from the chopper. Then the feed cut out.
The station cut back to the news anchors, who were all staring off-screen with their jaws hanging. There was dead silence for several seconds before one of the women put her hands to her mouth and started to sob.
The camera immediately cut to another anchor, who said in a neutral voice, “We seem to have lost our signal. We’ll keep you informed as we receive updates.” He looked to the side and began to say something as the picture cut to a recorded interview with another expert.
It's Actually Happened
How do you get food, how do you get supplies, how do you get in and out, even after the eruption?
Michael Rampino, Associate Professor of Earth and Environmental Sciences
From Super Volcano: The Ticking Time Bomb Beneath Yellowstone National Park
Richard turned to look at Erin, who was still staring wide-eyed at the TV. He could see everyone else staring at her, as well.
Monica was the first to speak. “Did what I think just happened just happen?”
Erin said nothing for a few seconds, blinked twice, and said, “What time is it, someone? Exactly!”
Matt looked at his phone. “2:32. Why?”
Erin replied, “We have—” She stopped and looked up in thought. “—between two and five minutes to get ourselves to a safe spot. There’s going to be an earthquake, and I think it’ll be severe!”
“How severe?” Monica asked.
When Erin didn’t respond, Bill piped up, “It goes all the way to eleven, man!” in a stoner voice.
Outland (World-Lines Book 1) Page 14