by James Tow
bit into the peel.
“You have any good CD’s in the car? I asked Gabriel.
“Not if you like Elton John and Michael Bolton,” he told me. “No idea why Alfred had these in this car, but who am I to judge someone’s taste? He did have a couple of rock albums in here that I’m grateful for.”
“Ugh! Michael Bolton?” Alyse said.
“So you’ve been only listening to the open road most of the time? How in the hell did you stay awake?” I asked amazed.
“No, I’ve been picking up those radio stations Coach told us about,” he told me.
“Coach?” I asked, lost.
“Coach Bergstrom,” he added. “You should tune in. They’re talking about ‘The Games’ right now.”
“What station?”
“97.5,” he told me. “And they’re mainly going to be on FM frequency.”
“Why’s that?” Alyse asked.
“Carrier signals are varied in FM frequency. Changes in amplitude don’t affect it,” I told her and she stared at the ground with furrowed brows—trying to understand what I just said. “There isn’t any static you hear on the AM frequency. Just a better signal for them to get their news across,” I added.
“Oh,” she said in response.
“It’s about time,” Gabriel said while looking down the road. I turned to see the three trucks appear over the hill.
Gabriel, still eating his orange, climbed back into his car and said, “Try to keep up this time,” he joked.
“If you didn’t have that nitrous, I’d be saying that!” I called out to him as he closed the driver side door. He stuck his head out the window, “What nitrous?” he said incredulously.
We both sped off down the interstate when the three Humvees caught up. The radio line cracked.
“That was so cool,” Spenser said.
“So, who won?” Chris asked. In front of me, Gabriel started weaving back and forth on the road while revving his engine.
“Are you serious?!” Spenser yelled. “We all thought the Mustang was a definite win.”
“Well, you guessed wrong,” Gabriel said.
“He cheated,” I added.
“Yeah…I cheated,” Gabriel agreed sarcastically.
I was reluctant to join in on their conversation—I hate losing. And to talk about it got me irritated. Instead, I turned the radio on and switched the station to 97.5 FM. The voices of a man and a woman spoke through the speakers…
“…and we hear there are hundreds of people there, ready to compete,” the woman said.
“Yes, all wanting their shot against The Army of Apocalypse. I believe this is a stunt to gather the world’s strongest factions, and then take them out while they’re all in one cluttered spot,” the man said.
“But they’ve had several events like this around the world, and there haven’t been any reports of them slaughtering the victors or anything like that,” the woman claimed.
“But there hasn’t been an event of this magnitude before. Big names like the Black faction and the Apocalypse Fighters will be there—you think The Army is just going to let them go? And besides, just because we don’t hear of it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. The day I start believing the news that The Army delivers…Never mind! I’ll never believe a single word they tell us.”
They both started laughing, and then the woman spoke in a serious tone, “You think they’ll be there?”
“The Reed brothers? God, I hope so, but if what I said turns out to be true, then I would want them as far away from Texas as possible,” the man replied.
“I think they will. I mean, it’s been confirmed by other radio stations that an outside source calling himself Mr. B, who personally knows the brothers, has already taken out the Russian leader, Federov. I’m guessing they’re after the leaders, and with Pollick there…who knows,” the woman said.
“Going after the leaders!” the man scoffed “That’s just pure insanity. To tell you the truth, I would be willing to bet these brothers don’t even exist. Some of the things we hear them doing, a small army couldn’t even manage.”
“Maybe that’s their strength—there is only two of them,” the woman suggested.
“That and one of them is a crazed psychopath,” Alyse said staring out the window.
“What was that?” I asked her to repeat and turned down the radio.
“Paul…Gabriel is a damn lunatic!” she said, raising her voice. He’s crazy—simple as that. And he drags you into all of this.”
“Never, not once, has he asked me, or told me, to come along with him into the lion’s den. I follow on my own free will,” I told her calmly.
“Why then? Why do you do it? These factions they just told us about, recruit hordes of resistance for months. And they go into battle with high hopes, only to be cut down to shreds. Then the process starts all over again. But you two go somewhere, and all that’s left is dead Apocalypse soldiers. What could ever make someone do that? There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and you two have well crossed that line.”
“Everything, that I have held dear, was taken away. My family, the fresh new life I was building for myself—times where I could actually walk down the street and smile. As for Gabriel, he has lost so much more,” I started to tell her and began to raise my voice. “So what are we supposed to do? Sit, twiddle our thumbs, and wish the life they took from us back? It’s too late for that. Everything is fucking gone…all destroyed! And you said yourself…we leave a trail of Apocalypse soldiers bodies, not our own…”
I stopped and relaxed—I went a little overboard. “I’m sorry,” I told her.
“It’s ok,” she replied, still looking out the window.
“All we can do is fight, and take away from those who stole from us,” I told her. “We are not just two brothers—we are a symbol of hope. The hope that life will be restored—the fighting chance.”
Silence clouded the car as Alyse still stared out the window—tears running down her cheeks. She hastily wiped the tears away as more came pouring from her eyes. Shit, now I made her cry. But I realized she was smiling.
“So, why do you do it?” I carefully asked her.
She started to laugh, wiping the last tears from her face. “I was nothing compared to you two,” she started to say. “The first time I ever saw any of The Army was at the prison, and I was scared out of my mind. I’m not fighter…just a girl, motivated by the hope you spoke of.” I looked at her, confused, and she explained, “I remember the first time my grandfather came back from America—after we moved back to Scotland. He brought many troops with him to New York City—he heard about the high ranking officers that would be there.”
I reminisced about the time Gabriel and I spent in New York City, and I cringed. She continued, “To be honest, I didn’t expect to see him again. But a week later, he showed up—untouched—with a black flag in his hand. He said, ‘There were so many dead, and there was this,’ and he held up the flag to show all of us—you and your brother’s names.” She turned to face me and continued, “We’ve only heard of you then—not knowing if you really did exist. But to see my grandfather holding your flag…it lit something inside of me…”
“Hope,” I told her. She answered with a smile.
“And you look just as I dreamed. And how you carry yourselves—the presence that you bring…whatever it is—it’s stimulating,” she mused. I was taken aback.
“That’s…deep,” I said and chuckled.
Her hands grabbed my face, and she forcefully pulled me to hers.
The kiss was just as I hoped—fulfilling. Warmth passed through me as our lips continued to touch. Her hands massaged my ears as the heat rushed all throughout my body.
The ride suddenly got bumpy and rough. I peeked out toward the road, and realized I wasn’t on it. I tore away from her grip and swerved back into line behind Gabriel. Alyse’s head was down—staring at her hands on her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled.
“F
or what?!” I exclaimed. “I was hoping you’d do that. I don’t have the balls to just…I’m glad you...just went for it…”
She laughed, slumping down in her chair, and closed her eyes with a grin.
“You taste good,” I whispered and she playfully backhanded my arm. Her hand rested on my arm and she slid it down on top of my hand. The warmth still throbbed in my ears—this is the best feeling I have ever experienced.
I noticed my leg was resting on something, and to my horror it was the radio. It was positioned to where my leg held down the button. How much did they hear? Oh shit, was Gabriel listening?!
I relaxed when Chris spoke through the radio. “Get some boy!” Alyse started laughing.
“She’s right. There’s something about you two that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something special,” Toni said. I don’t take flattery well—the goose bumps started showing up, and the hair on my neck was standing. Then I saw Gabriel, through his rear window, take his hand off the wheel and bring the radio to his mouth. He held it there for several seconds, then set it back down, and rested his hand back on the steering wheel.
21. A Night Out in the City
We finally stopped for gas in the outskirts of New Orleans—or what used to be New Orleans. The buildings were trashed and broken. Like any major city, debris littered the streets. People wandered, without direction, amongst the city limits—it was a nice touch to the chaotic scenery.
Surprisingly, we found several functional gas stations. The first one we found was Citgo, but Gabriel refused to fill up there—as if Chávez was still in power,