Blood Runners

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  "What is it, boss?" asked Lout after Longman was silent for a weighty beat.

  Longman shook his head, and Lout trembled because there was gravity in Longman’s manner. Even when he was just standing and staring, his eyes were always wide and rapt and eerily unblinking.

  "I just had the feeling, Mister Hendrix," Longman said, "that after this night nothing will be as it was before." He watched as Cozzard fired up the evidence in a metal stove, destroying it forever, as he waited to hear word from those that guarded the only way under the wall. If the boy and the girl made it through, it would be time to ready the men and prepare to potentially lead a punitive expedition out into the great unknown. Just as he’d done in the years before he took over the city.

  CHAPTER 44

  Marisol watched Elias part a copse of branches and duck down along a streambed that the two followed, the wall rising in the distance. Elias studied the directions, which called for them to wade across the stream. Tree branches from nearby embankments acted as umbrellas, fanned over the water, protecting their silhouettes from the guards who could be seen patrolling the wall.

  Their figures swam in and out of focus in the darkness as they pushed upstream, Elias keeping the directions above water as the stream dipped to his chest. He fought his way up the opposite bank and collapsed to the ground. He could see a giant metal vent down an embankment across from him. The vent protected a spillway that funneled runoff from the old sewage impoundment lakes that lay just underfoot. Elias crawled a few feet forward and spotted an old sewer grate with an iron wheel on top that looked as if it had been intentionally camouflaged with branches and underbrush. Unless you knew what you were looking for, this spot, this grate, would be impossible to find.

  "Mind if I ask you a question," Marisol uttered as Elias’s head canted.

  "No problem," he responded, "long as you don’t mind if I don’t answer."

  Ignoring this, she said, "What are you doing? I mean, what’s the plan?"

  "What do you think it is? I’m going in."

  "Then what?"

  "Then what the hell do you think? I’m going under the wall."

  "Then what?"

  "You said one question!"

  "I never said just one," she replied.

  "Well, that’s all you’re getting."

  Marisol thought about this, kicking the ground as Elias pointed at her rucksack.

  "You had your questions, now it’s my turn. What’s in the bag? Weapons? Eats? White? C’mon."

  "Need to know," she responded.

  "I almost got shot saving your ass, so I’d like to know."

  She shook her head and Elias bared his teeth as he twisted the iron wheel, which wouldn’t budge until Marisol grabbed a corner of it and helped. With the two of them working together, the wheel complained, then finally swung open to reveal a ladder leading down into the dismal obscurity that lay beneath them.

  Elias didn’t wait to enter. If he had, he would have noticed it. Would have seen the string of two-cent wire laid a foot down across the second rung. But he didn't, and it wasn't until her eyes sought his face with a trouble and anxiety that he could by no means account for that he realized he'd made a serious mistake.

  CHAPTER 45

  The hush was shattered as Elias’s shoe clipped the trip-wire, which ignited a toe-popper flare that screamed into the sky like a bottle rocket before exploding. Shouts followed the burst. Klaxons shrilled in the distance. Marisol pointed at the guards on the wall as they fidgeted for spotlights and guns.

  Marisol followed Elias down onto the ground. The pair moved deliberately, rung by rung, their eyes searching the ground below for any sign of movement. Marisol slipped on a moss-slick rung, losing her balance before Elias grabbed and steadied her. She caught sight of his eyes, which shone like black buttons. "Thanks," she said, as he held up two fingers and clambered straight down.

  The ladder ended at a cement landing that they dropped onto. Steam hissed from nearby (and still functional) geothermal piping, and generators thumped from alcoves that they couldn’t see. The space here was supersized; the landing led to a pipe that was thirty feet in diameter and which appeared to have been hacked directly into the bedrock. Fetid pools of sewage from the old days filled troughs that ran on either side of the pipe next to dormant pumps that once whirred and whooshed and pushed the sludge out to be treated elsewhere. This was the once and final resting place for all of the detritus of the old city.

  They stumble-charged through the pipe, melting into the vaporous mist rising from the sewage in the manmade cavern, when a form shapeshifted out of a blackened alcove and grabbed Elias around the neck.

  CHAPTER 46

  Heavy diesel generators filled with biofuel powered the twin elevators as Cozzard, Lout, and ten of Longman’s best men rode fifteen stories down. They had a general idea where Elias and Marisol were headed. There was only one primary way in and out of the tunnel, and with some luck, they’d catch the punks and string out their necks before they exited out into the Grasslands.

  Cozzard’s lips curled up in a demonic smile, his face evincing a plethora of emotions. Anticipation. Trepidation. Seething anger. Whether their mission ultimately proved successful, the boy and the girl were as good as dead. If their bullets didn’t bring them down, they wouldn’t last half a night out with the evil that hunted beyond the wall when the sun went down. It was a secret known only to Longman’s inner circle and a few others, but they routinely exiled troublesome members of the Guilds out in the Grasslands. Just brought them under the tunnel and bound their arms with wire and set them off before night fell. In the morning, they’d come and find the bodies — what was left of them. The Thresher begun the work that the carrion birds finished. Same thing would happen to these two. The elevator reached its end and the doors pinged open. Cozzard tugged on what looked like a velvet skullcap, signaling to the others as they funneled out into a dank space, ready to draw first blood.

  CHAPTER 47

  Elias stagger-stepped in the grip of a hulking figure who picked him up a foot off the ground. Marisol reacted quickly and threw a punch that hammered the figure in the back, forcing Elias to the ground as the figure threw up his hands to reveal a soul-worn man. A Scrapper. A "taker" from Longman’s new paradise who subsisted on refuse and crafty repurposing.

  "You," the scrapper said to Elias while pointing. "I know you."

  Elias shook his head and stood defensively as the Scrapper grinned a mouth full of blackened, festering teeth. "I seen you run, boy. Oh, yes. I seen you run and take down them bastardly Apes."

  Elias looked over at Marisol, then whispered to the Scrapper, "I did an Absolution run yesterday."

  "I know and I watched every second of it," the Scrapper snorted. "Me and a whole lotta others. Gods in Heaven, we was rootin’ for you the whole way, if you’ll permit me to talk true."

  The Scrapper removed his sodden hat and took up Elias’s hand and shook it vigorously as Elias’s cheeks reddened.

  "We’re looking for a way out," Marisol muttered, breaking the moment. The Scrapper eyed the directions Elias had and shook his head. "You don’t wanna go that way, for it surely leadeth to destruction," he intoned, before motioning. "Follow me. I got eyes for another joint. I’ll show ya the way. Come on, hurry now, this way."

  Elias and Marisol jogged at the heels of the Scrapper, who moved briskly through the space, heading right, then left, ducking behind obstacles, following a path only he could see.

  They veered through the underground passages in the silty light as sounds echoed in the distance. Shouts of men, metal doors opening, colorful obscenities being hurled. Someone was most definitely coming. Elias looked up; not much to see at first blush, but then he spotted a long, dark, reaching form that only a hyper-alert man would notice. A wide trench running off to the side, carved into the bedrock, funneling water and sewage and sediment out to the Great Lakes. Elias pointed, and as Marisol looked, her foot caught the edge of the trench and her ruck
sack went flying.

  "My bag!"

  Elias grabbed the bag before it could fall into the watery scum and hauled it back onto the path, where it opened and tossed its contents. Dolls and girly items spilled onto the path. Lots of them. Elias held up a faded Hello Kitty doll as Marisol grabbed it all back. Elias giggled.

  "Ha! So this is your deep, dark secret?!"

  "Shut up."

  Elias threw his head back and barked out a laugh as Marisol snatched up the bag and held it close to her chest. The Scrapper watched this and seemed to enjoy the sight of the two bickering immensely. He pointed to a stout door that was visible down a short flight of steps.

  "That’s the way," he said. "You wanna get you some freedom, it’s on the other side of that door."

  "What’s out there?" Marisol asked.

  The Scrapper’s complexion suddenly bleached at the thought of how to answer this, at what he knew lay on the other side of the door and in the lands beyond.

  "Freedom," he said. "There is freedom there, but it does come with a price."

  Before he could respond further, Elias heard a snap, an echo, then a rush of air as a bullet hammered into the Scrapper’s chest which yawned red as he pitched backward, dead before he hit the water in the trench. Time and sound seemed to slow for Marisol, who watched the man’s arms fan out as he plunged into the sewage, disappearing under its swift currents as Elias pointed and shrieked, "They’re here!"

  Cozzard lowered his smoking rifle and signaled for the others to double-time it as he stayed behind and fired at the girl and boy.

  Bullets buzzed over the heads of Marisol and Elias like bees as they combat-ran toward the stout door. Lout and Longman’s men were gaining ground, running like stallions and firing pistols and sawed-off shotguns wildly. Elias heaved open the door as Marisol dove in first. A round from Cozzard’s gun whined off the metal just over Elias’s head as he inched inside, slammed the door shut, and threw a bolt across it. Pounding began on the other side. The bolt wouldn’t last for long.

  Elias turned and caught the tail end of Marisol as she scampered down a dark thruway that lay under metal catwalks dripping with water and plumed with steam.

  CHAPTER 48

  The unadulterated blackness pillowed Elias and Marisol as they continued along the thruway past walls of poured cement that were curved and without angles. The thruway dilated into a high chamber and a bricked wall with another door with a wheeled handle. The two gripped the handle and turned the wheel to reveal the outside world as seen from some point high above.

  They peered outside to see that the city of New Chicago stalled here, for beyond was the beyond, the "Land of Nil," as some called it. Nothingness. The Grasslands. The dwelling place of the Thresher. An opening looked them in the face: the end of the tunnel, which was little more than a slab of concrete with an attached earthen embankment. There was a short ledge, and then a wall slapped onto the concrete that dropped to the ground some eighty feet below. The wall was lined with metal rungs. Marisol wrapped her fingers around the first one and cast a final glance back into the tunnel.

  "If we go, we won’t be able to come back," she said.

  "What’s there to come back to?"

  "I… there… there were people I knew."

  Elias smirked. "Those Apes? The ones from back there?"

  "Farrow was my friend. He saved me from the others."

  "Yeah, well, I hate to say it, but good riddance to New Chicago. I thought it might be better in here when I was out there, but I was wrong. I’ll take my chances in the beyond. Ain’t no friends or goodliness inside the wall."

  "We could go back and talk to them," she muttered as Elias laughed.

  "Yeah, I kinda think the time for talkin’ is over, Marisol."

  "We could try and change things," she said, even though she knew it was an impossibility.

  Elias shook his head and said, "We don’t have enough bullets to change things. It’s better to run."

  She took this in and did what she’d done since she was a child whenever faced with a difficult decision. She grabbed her knuckles and tugged on them until they cracked like splintered wood. She knew Elias was right. She knew that she was finished with the city and the lettings and whole damn thing. Still, there was a part of her, inherited most likely from her father, that made her believe, however ludicrous the thought was, that she had the power to make a difference.

  "My papa used to say something to me."

  "Yeah," Elias said, looking over. "What’s that?"

  "That sometimes you have to kill your own dogs."

  "I don’t got any dogs and I don’t see your old man around anymore, Marisol, okay? So get a good look and watch me run."

  Marisol looked back over the embankment, steeling herself, realizing she had no choice but to go down.

  Elias could see her hesitate. He leaned down and whispered, "You ever close your eyes and try and trick you brain into thinking you’re doing the opposite of what you’re really doing?"

  "All the time," she replied.

  "Well, this is another one of those times. So take that first step. Do it now or I’m leaving you."

  She nodded and climbed down first, gripping the rungs, body and core-muscles tense, winching herself down the side of the wall as Elias followed. The going was slow at first, then the pace quickened.

  As Marisol reached the bottom of the wall, she observed the tall, thick grass swaying in a stiff breeze, stretching to the hilly horizon, a vista that appeared immeasurable in the darkness. She looked up at Elias, who nodded and said, "That’s it. We’re officially on our own."

  She smirked and dropped from the wall and he followed suit. They hit the ground and heard sounds above them, catching sight of Cozzard first as he opened fire. Bullets slashed the grass as Marisol and Elias ducked for cover. Hands on the ground, they pinwheeled past and threaded through the grass like pickpockets in a parade.

  Cozzard and the others made excellent time descending the wall, dropping the last 11 feet. One of the men turned an ankle, but the others strung out and continued the hunt.

  A footrace ensued as Elias and Marisol shot through the grass. Marisol yelped as the razor-sharp blades sliced her barren arms. Elias barely noted the blades; he was more concerned with what else might be hiding in the grass. On several occasions, he spotted things out on the edges of his sightline, dizzying shades darting through the grass, everywhere and all around. Yet each time when he blinked and looked back, the shades were gone.

  "This way!" Marisol urged him, "This way!"

  He squinted sideways and spotted her making for an abyssal region out to the far right, a section of land drowning in rusted cars and all manner of machines and earth-moving devices, stretching to a stupendous overhang that dropped down into bottomlands that he could not yet see.

  Marisol trotted forward and then stopped dead in her tracks. Her nose beveled. Something was wrong.

  "What? What is it?" Elias asked.

  Without uttering a word, she lifted a finger and pointed to the ground where Elias could see a number of things: a partially concealed pit where the corpse of some unlucky hung from a sharpened shaft of metal; a rusted bear-trap containing a flesh-denuded foot; and the top of a pounded piece of metal upon which Marisol’s foot rested. A pressure-plate of some kind. Elias cursed their luck. They were in the middle of some welcome-to-hell section of booby-traps.

  Tiny wires led away from the plate, through the grass, toward the treeline. Elias could barely make out a cube of metal the size of a car engine, lodged in a tree. The wires connected to the cube.

  "What happens if you let up?" he asked her.

  "What happens if I don’t?" she whispered in response.

  They both looked back and heard the sound of Longman’s men. Marisol loosed a ferocious sigh and stepped off the pressure-plate as—

  ZZZIIPPPP!

  The wires twanged and snapped back toward the metal cube as Elias grabbed Marisol and shoved her forward.


  The wires plunged into the cube, a Rube-Goldberg-like contraption, made from repurposed automotive parts. The wires unhitched a clutch pedal which slammed down, activating a hydraulic piston that pressed on a release fork to power up a flywheel that spun like a turbine. The flywheel, which operated without batteries or fossil fuels, loosed its kinetic energy, sending out pulses that triggered a series of hidden traps.

  In the grass Elias and Marisol spotted movement, Marisol screaming "Cover your head!"

  They both ducked low as BOOM! a small IED exploded off to their right, sending them rolling left. Elias stopped to catch his breath when something closed around his ankle and in a flash he was on his back, moving at an incredible rate of speed as the sky raced by overhead.

  CHAPTER 49

  The hidden trap’s mesh loop gripped Elias’s ankle like a vice as it dragged him screaming through the grass. Elias craned his head so that he could see the ground in front. He was being pulled toward what looked like a pair of metal jaws brimming with saber-sized shafts of sharpened metal when—

  WHUMP!

  A hand flashed out and grabbed his outstretched arm around the wrist and slowed his movement. Marisol fell across his chest, giving him enough time to shudder his ankle and slacken the trap’s loop. Greasy fingers reached down and pinched the loop as Elias pried his foot free.

  He didn’t even have enough time to thank Marisol because she was already on her feet and scampering off.

  The pair knifed through a bottleneck of machines and moundings of debris, passing the desiccated corpses of those who’d died in their cars when the world went to blazes. They made themselves small inside a junked car that was once used to ferry little ones around to games of leisure in the times of plenty. They could hear the shouts of Longman’s men in the distance—sometimes drawing near, other times drifting away. Marisol’s mouth dropped open to speak, but Elias placed a finger on his lips for silence. She nodded, using the fabric on one of her dolls to stanch the ribbons of blood that sprung from the grass cuts on her arm. Outside, the voices of Longman’s men drew closer. Elias looked out through a section of spiderwebbed windshield, gripping the knife Marisol took from one of the Loons back in the house.