“I don’t know what to do,” Chelsea said mechanically, still refusing to budge a muscle. She slowly reached her hands up and clasped them over the lizard-dragon. It squirmed in her hands but she was able to get one hand firmly around it.
Bringing it down to stare at it, she couldn’t believe her eyes. “I can’t believe we found it!” she said joyfully. Its head twitched back in response.
The lizard was originally from the Philippines. Part of a collection of exotic reptiles that belonged to a local shop, it escaped after the apocalypse. It was a Draco volans, or flying dragon lizard. The infected tore the place apart, but a few creatures still managed to escape and survive. It was a full grown male, with a blue hue under its wings. Its brown mottled appearance made it blend in well with tree bark. A favorite of the shop owner, it was very comfortable around people.
“I’m keeping it!” Chelsea said excitedly. “I think it likes me!” The lizard stared at her, remaining passive in her grip.
“What happens when it grows up, though?” asked Maya. “Don’t dragons get really big?”
“Maybe we could ride him, then!”
“But what if he breathes fire?”
Chelsea scolded her gently. “Dragons don’t really breathe fire. That’s just a story.”
“Where are you going to keep it?”
“He’s going to stay in my room. I’m going to call him Herman.”
Maya wasn’t too impressed. “Herman doesn’t sound like a very good name for a dragon.”
“I think it’s a perfect name,” replied Chelsea, a bit indignant. She loosened her grip and Herman scampered out of her hand and bolted lightning fast onto her shoulder. It came face to face with Maya.
“Eww! I don’t like the way it looks at me!” Maya squealed just as the sound of motorbikes filled the air. The sound came from somewhere outside the compound.
Chelsea turned around and saw three men race away from their camp. Not more than thirty-seconds later several boys on dirt-bikes flew out of the Alamo, and the area sounded like it was under attack from a giant swarm of mechanical bees.
“Oh shit,” said Chelsea. “We need to get back. They’re gonna know we were gone!" The only person usually up this early besides the guards was Mace, but he always hung by himself. Friends with all the guards, she knew they’d never tell. She just didn’t want her mom to find out.
Chelsea moved and the lizard jumped off her shoulder and glided away. “Herman!” she yelled as it drifted up towards the trees. “Come back!” It landed on the bark and she said dejectedly, “Dang, I lost my baby dragon!” She heard the sound of Mace’s Harley and yelled to Maya. “Stay down! Don’t let him see you!”
Mace flew out of the compound on the Harley, and Chelsea yelled, “Run,” as soon as he was fully past where they could be spotted. As soon as they ran the lizard pushed off the bark, following their path. It glided down and landed on Chelsea’s shoulder. She giggled, “Herman!” almost tripping over her own two feet as she ran.
Buster remained right on her heels, while Maya pulled slightly ahead. They just passed the main entrance when Lisa barreled out of the camp in her dune buggy. Dirt kicked up as she swung the steering wheel hard, and the dune-buggy skidded as it raced after the rest of the security detail. They’d just missed being seen.
Chelsea puffed heavily as she reached the hole in the side wall. Maya already pulled away the board that covered it and was climbing through as Chelsea caught up. “Go! Go!” Chelsea yelled as she looked behind her to make sure they were still clear. She quickly went through then heard a loud thunk. Looking back, Buster gave it another try. This time he made it.
“Poor dog’s gonna have brain damage,” Maya said as Chelsea plopped down next to her, exhausted. “What is it, like four times he’s done that?”
“He can’t help it,” Chelsea said warmly as she patted his dented head. “He’s only got one good eye.” He licked her hand and stared up at her with his one good eye. Chelsea couldn't help herself and kissed the top of his head.
Buster would always be her best friend, no matter how old she got. He'd saved her in San Francisco and remained always by her side. As far back as she could remember, Buster had always been there.
She'd almost lost him in the basement in Kansas, and the thought of him dying after he'd been shot was more terrifying than being trapped alone in a room full of dead infected. She'd repaid his loyalty by staying next to him the whole time he was nursed back to health.
"He's my hero," Chelsea said whimsically as she looked down at her sad-looking dog. Thinking about all he'd done for her, she started laughing. "You know, he actually ripped somebody's nuts off for me!"
Maya said, "Gross, I don't need to hear that story again!" She suddenly noticed the baby dragon moving up the back of Chelsea’s shirt. “Holy shit!” she said. “The dragon's still on you!”
“Oh my God, I almost forgot! Let’s go make a home for it!”
A few miles away from camp, Mace raced after the men on dirt-bikes. They couldn’t outrun the Harley. As he came up behind them, he raised a sawed-off shotgun with his right hand and aimed it for the closest one’s rear tire. He fired and swung his bike to the left as the dirt bike lost control and went down hard.
The rider smashed against the pavement, his body rolling as limbs broke and snapped. Mace ticked off the number 88 in his head. One of the trailing boys on dirt-bikes ran over his corpse on purpose. The boy almost lost control and screamed in jubilation as he got the bike back under control.
Lisa swiftly caught up in the dune-buggy. Her adrenaline pumped as she watched the man go down and get run over. She raced past his body, eager to get in on the action. One of the men yelled something to the other and then suddenly banked hard right. Tires screeched as he turned and the riders split up.
Continuing after the first one, Mace rolled the throttle harder to swiftly overtake him. The guy took a quick look back and panicked as Mace drew closer. The bike jiggled as the guy turned forward and started to lose control. Mace slowed the Harley down as the bike jiggled harder. The guy was gonna lose it.
The bike suddenly dumped hard and the guy rolled across the pavement. The Harley skidded to a stop, and Mace was off it immediately. He walked up and pressed the shotgun against his head. The man moaned in pain. He was still breathing.
The boys pulled up on their dirt-bikes as Mace stood over the stranger. Tossing the shotgun on the ground, Mace placed his boot on the guy’s body and pulled free his machete. The guy’s eyes grew wide and he whimpered, “No, please,” as the machete lifted high. With one swift slice the blade came down and Mace felt the blade cut through the spinal cord as the guy’s head rolled away from his body.
Looking down on the corpse, Mace took a deep breath. 89. Inside his head, Father McCann's voice fought to be heard. "You are the protector of all things," the voice cried softly. Those were the words spoken to him in San Francisco. Mace's face twitched as the phrase repeated in his head. I am their protector, Mace thought in response. It's exactly what I've become.
Lisa swiftly chased down the last dirt-bike in the dune buggy. She knew the area well and turned the buggy off-road to cut ahead. The buggy bounced and jumped over dirt mounds as she kept her eyes on his trail. The rider on the bike saw the dust cloud off to the side and realized her plan. He slowed the bike down then made a U-turn. He’d double-back and see if he could catch his partner. He leaned into the bike and pushed it to its limits; occasionally taking a quick look back to make sure the buggy didn’t follow. The guy suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing the bike to a skidding stop.
In the distance, he could see the Harley heading directly for him followed by a half-dozen dirt-bikes. Rolling the throttle, he screeched the bike back around to start back the way he'd come. He hadn’t traveled more than a hundred feet when the dune buggy appeared on the horizon. His heart caught in his throat. He slowed the bike down before finally stopping.
Climbing off, he clasped his hands behind his he
ad as his heart pounded in his chest. Within seconds he was completely surrounded. Lisa struggled to get out of the dune-buggy and swore in frustration as she broke free of the cage. “You bastard!” she yelled. “You thought you could just get away?”
As she barreled towards the man, he dropped to his knees and looked fearfully all around. Lisa pushed through the boys and kicked him squarely in his chest. He toppled backwards, landing hard on his back. Pulling out her handgun, she pointed it at his head.
“Lisa, no!” Mace said sharply. “I want him alive.”
Her head snapped towards him. “For what? He stole from us!” She was completely worked up.
“I want to know how he got around the mines. Plus I want to make an example of him. I want the others to see what happens if they cross us.”
Biting her lip hard, Lisa stared at the man as he cowered on the pavement. She stuck the handgun back in her holster. “I need to get high,” she said, eyeing Mace, her eyes still wild. She stormed back to the buggy and peeled out, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind her.
CHAPTER SIX
Back at the Alamo, Mace entered the room given to the newcomers, fixed for blood. As soon as the door opened, Roger, who expected him, started pleading his case. Raising his hands up in a defensive gesture, Roger said, “We had no idea they would try to leave. When we woke this morning they were already gone.”
Kelly sat quietly in the corner of the room, head down. She understood the seriousness of the situation and knew better than to mouth off.
“Where’s Tom?” Mace demanded, looking quickly around their quarters. He held his pistol by his side, ready to finish them off.
“The woman came and got him.”
“What woman?” Maced asked loudly.
“I don’t know. She was blonde. She came in and just grabbed him. Told us to stay here or she’d kill us.”
“Shit.” It was Lisa. “Stay here. I guarantee if you walk out this door, you’re dead.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Roger answered nervously. “I told you. We had no idea what they were doing.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Walking back outside, the boys waited. They were armed and angry. The last escapee was bound, gagged, and bleeding. They’d already worked him over pretty good. “Watch this door. If anyone walks out, kill them. Nobody goes through that door, though. Hear me?”
None of the boy’s responded.They just stared at the door, waiting for the bloodshed to come. Mace strode with purpose towards Lisa’s residence and tried to hold back the rage. He was convinced she’d already tortured or killed him.
Arriving at her door, he didn’t bother to knock. Flinging the door open, his jaw dropped at the scene inside. It wasn’t even close to what he was expecting.
Sitting on a couch, Lisa and Tom sat calmly together. Tom took a deep hit off a bong. It sounded like someone blowing bubbles in their milk. Tom’s shirt was off.
“What the hell?” questioned Mace, his rage instantly replaced by a tickle in his funny-bone. “You gonna stone him to death?”
Lisa’s eyes blazed red. “Back off. He’s mine. He knew nothing of what they did.”
Unable to keep from chuckling, Mace said, “Is this what I think it is?”
It was Lisa’s turn to hit off the bong. She nodded and said, “Foreplay,” a second before she flicked the lighter and the bubbling started again. Tom coughed heavily as he exhaled, and Mace could tell he was baked.
“What do you think, Tom?” he asked. “You still want to stay?”
Tom’s eyes were glazed over and started to cross. “I was scared to death at first, but now I can’t feel my legs.”
Mace started to laugh. The more he thought about it, the funnier it became. Soon, he bellowed with laughter, unable to stop. He fell to one knee, hoping to catch his breath. He heard a snort from the couch and looked up just in time to see Lisa pointing at him in hysterics. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she gasped for breath.
Chelsea and Maya suddenly walked in, witnessing the spectacle. Turning to Maya, Chelsea said, “Oh shit, the bong’s out. Let’s go check on Herman. You don’t want to talk to them right now.” They walked quickly to her room and closed the door as the laughter continued.
Once the chuckling died down, Mace stared at Lisa in amazement. “You feel that?” he asked as he held his chest.
“What” she said, still smiling.
“The darkness. It’s gone. I haven’t felt this light in a damn long time.”
Lisa eyes were turned down as she analyzed her inner radar. “Shit, I think you’re right!” she exclaimed after a moment. “I just wish it would last.”
“Me, too.” Smiling again at the far off look on Tom’s face, Mace said, “Let me guess. You want him to stay awhile.”
“It’s been years,” Lisa replied with a mischievous grin. “You won’t be seeing either one of us for awhile.”
The first few months after she'd been bit, Lisa thought she might be okay. Listening to Mace as he expressed what was going on inside him, she didn't feel the same voracious anger he described as tearing at his soul.
Wanting to prepare her for what might come, they shared hours of conversation. Reflecting on their old lives, Lisa confessed one night that she had a brother who committed suicide while she was still a teenager. As she recounted the experience, she expressed to Mace that while she'd been close with her brother, she felt closer to Mace now. "I feel a stronger bond with you than I ever did my own flesh and blood," she stated in all honesty. It gave them an alliance. Having grown up an only child, a part of Mace relished their kinship, despite the cause. In spite of their growing sexual longing, they never saw each other that way. Their relationship, although dark and twisted through their connection, remained pure.
They started referring to each other as bastard siblings, fathered by the same son-of-a-bitch that took over the world. As time went on, Lisa started suffering the same afflictions as Mace, and despair and hatred tried to clog her pores. It was their bond, their understanding that no one else could relate to, that allowed them to keep it together. They leaned on each other for support.
Roger took a peek out the window and grew more nervous as the boys outside grew more animated and restless. He knew the man in their grasp only as Saul. As he watched, one of the boys punched Saul hard across the jaw. Out of the corner of his eye Roger spotted Woody approach the group. At the sight of Woody, the boys calmed down considerably. After speaking with them for a moment, Woody turned and headed straight towards Roger's door.
Moving away from the window, Roger said, “Watch yourself.”
“What now?” Kelly asked, right before a knock on the door silenced them both. A second later, Woody let himself in.
“I want to hear what you have to say,” Woody said, looking straight at Roger. “You know what’s happened. We don’t take strangers in easily. Why should we trust you now?”
At only eleven, Woody commanded respect. Roger was impressed but unnerved by his posture and age. “We had nothing to do with the others. They left while we were still sleeping. If we had anything to do with it, why would we still be here now?”
“That’s what I figured,” replied Woody, calmly. “We’ve got an angry camp right now, though, and while I can keep you safe, they’re going to want you to witness an execution. They’re going to want you to get the point.”
Kelly briefly whimpered and turned away, remaining quiet.
Trying not to get worked up, Roger said, “Do you execute many people?”
“Not really. Most people don’t get this close.”
Scrutinizing Woody, Roger saw his intelligence. He wanted to challenge his beliefs and perhaps reach his heart. At this point, he figured if he didn’t take some kind of stand he’d either end up dead or a slave anyway. “Is this really the kind of life you want for your people? From what I’ve seen, you all live this brutal, empty existence. If all you want to do is kill, then you’re nothing but savages.”
Woody understood that Roger was a minister, so his response didn’t completely surprise him. A part of him, though, was instantly offended. After the deaths of Hot Dog and Alexie, he never acted rashly. Staring at Roger for a few long moments, Woody took his time to formulate a response. “We’ve done what we needed to do to survive. It’s not fair for you to come in here and judge us. You have no idea what we’ve been through.”
“True enough,” Roger replied, feeling hopeful that they could have a meaningful conversation. “But don’t you want a camp that is more of a home than a prison? Where people aren’t so scared they’ll sneak out in the middle of the night to avoid getting murdered?”
Woody grew more defensive. “They were told they would be escorted out if they didn’t want to stay, and this is no prison. Everyone feels safe here.”
“They didn’t believe you, and neither did I.” There was a brief silence between them. “I don’t condone what they did, but I understand why they did it. I’m not so sure that by us staying here we won’t end up dead, whether we do something wrong or not. That’s the kind of place you’ve created.”
“We take care of our own,” Woody said, getting louder. “Your lives are the least of our worries. We do what we have to, to survive.”
Roger knew he had pushed far enough. “But don’t you want more?” he said quietly.
“There is nothing more.”
“There is peace. You choose war. You choose to live in fear.”
“We don’t fear anything,” Woody stated boldly.
“Actually, you fear everything. You kill most people before you’ve even given them a chance. My guess is you’ve lived this way for so long you don’t even know the difference.”
Legend of Mace Page 4