Crossing Bedlam

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Another jab with the rifle is enough to make the taller man gag and vomit, his own soldiers showing very little concern for his wellbeing. One of them even laughs, making sure not to be seen or easily identified by the glaring squad leader. Wanting to move faster, Noah draws a knife to cut the heavy deer loose and shoves it to the ground. He takes his seat in front of Cassidy, the young woman staring at her knees. Several minutes pass before Firestone gets back behind the wheel and they continue on their way.

  Nobody talks for the next hour, the only sounds being those of the dark forest that surrounds the nervous group. Tensions run high as they hear growls in the distance and something occasionally crashes through the bushes. All of the soldiers know that bears live in the area, but they hope the floodlights keep the predators away. Stumbling onto random scraps of deer that have been left from recent kills, they worry more and more that they are walking into danger. As the soldiers fall a few steps behind, the jeep rolls on and Firestone intentionally runs over a pair of antlers he sees in the road. Coming to a creek, the petty officer stops to let the other men and women go ahead, the beams of light helping them avoid slick rocks. Before the jeep can continue, Noah honks the horn and forces the vehicle into park, the screeching gears making Cassidy cringe beneath her curtain of blonde hair.

  “The hell is your problem?” Firestone snaps, shoving the other man away. When he attempts to put the jeep back into drive, a fist clocks him upside the head. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you and tell my men to attack. This is a tentative alliance until we divide the spoils. If you keep this up then everything will be mine, including your head.”

  “Shut up and look ahead,” Noah demands, jabbing his finger toward the soldiers. The four fatigue-clad men and women stand in a line on the other side of the creek, three of them standing directly in the light. “Not counting the two of us and the ones killed at the last stop, we had eight soldiers. Where did the others go?”

  “Deserters probably,” the large man answers, his voice proving that he does not believe the excuse. Examining the shadowy woods, Firestone’s finds that his night vision is terrible after staring into the floodlight beams for so long. “A bear isn’t stealthy and wouldn’t kill four armed people. Maybe some wolves got into the area or a bunch of Wilders turned cannibal. It wouldn’t be the first time for either situation. Did we just lose another one?”

  “No, he’s standing in the shadows, but your man is still there,” Noah replies as he unlocks his door and draws his handgun. As an afterthought, the veteran checks Cassidy’s handcuffs to make sure she is secured. “Both of us should go outside and calm our remaining soldiers. They might not have noticed the disappearances until now since we had them focusing on watching the forest and road instead of each other. We’ll tell them the cannibal theory because that is easier to believe. Leave the floodlights on so we don’t fall in the creek.”

  The squad leaders check their weapons and get out of the jeep, the key tucked neatly into Firestone’s pocket. Waving for the soldiers to ready their weapons, the pair carefully walk across the creek. Frogs leaping away from the incoming boots make everyone pause, the ribbit and splash barely recognizable due to their heart-pounding fear. Without warning, the man standing in the shadows yells and is yanked into the bushes. The sounds of a struggle and screaming paralyzes the other soldiers until Noah shouts for them to pursue as a group. He remains on the road with Firestone, both men readying their rifles and trying to follow the faint shadows in the trees. Neither squad leader wants to take a shot out of fear of hitting one of their own, but the sudden bursts of noise makes their trigger fingers twitch. Minutes pass before the forest goes silent, except for a low rumble that moves in the darkness. The snap of a twig behind them comes too late as two combat knives press against the men’s throats and wiggles into the top layer of skin.

  “I’ve been thinking of something catchy to say at this point, but I was having far too much fun killing your people. Their screams and gurgling kept distracting me,” Lloyd says, his face covered in black paint he took off one of the dead soldiers. Smiley faces of gold, silver, and green are along his bare arms, each one having a slightly different expression. “Honestly, these aren’t my colors. More of a blue and white guy with the occasional red thrown in. Not that I’m patriotic, but I like the combination. Real shame you killed my messenger. The guy threw up when I gutted the other one, so I had to fire the gun myself. Still, he was really excited about being allowed to live once I was done. Not sure where he got that idea. I merely said I’d consider the possibility.”

  “Why are you talking instead of slitting our throats?” Noah asks, cringing when the knife digs a little deeper. He reaches for his grenade, but finds that it is no longer clipped to his waistband. “Our men were only following orders. You didn’t have to kill them.”

  The excited murderer leans forward to blow in each man’s ear, his eyes watching the lowered rifles for signs of courage. “Of course I didn’t have to kill them. It was done out of pleasure. More in a chocolate ice cream indulgence kind of way than sex. Let’s not get any creepy thoughts here. Now I do agree that they were following orders, which makes you two my real prey. How are we going to finish this while having some fun? Any suggestions?”

  “Only a coward attacks from behind,” Firestone growls while itching one of his old steroid patches.

  “This coming from a man carrying a gun that screams overcompensation.”

  “You’d be dead if you attacked us head on.”

  “Which is why I didn’t do it.”

  “I could tear you apart with my bare hands.”

  “Bear hands? Never mind. Did that joke with your men and it died on delivery.”

  Noah clears his throat and drops his rifle to the ground, the act causing Lloyd to remove the knife. “How about a fair fight? You take on Firestone without weapons. If you win then we let you and your friend go with your supplies. If you lose then you’ll be dead and no longer concerned with what happens here. After sneaking around for so long, it’ll be fun to take on an opponent in an old-fashioned brawl.”

  “And then we can mosey on down to the saloon and eat mammoth burgers,” Lloyd mockingly replies, running the knife along Noah’s cheek. Stepping back from the squad leaders, he nods when Firestone drops his assault rifle and handgun. “Would be a nice change of pace and I would enjoy the risk. Sure, I’ll fight the bulging, veiny landmass who looks like a barely decorated Christmas tree. Just to keep the insults even, you and your men look like wingless bumblebees, Sergeant. You’ve seemed honorable so far, which means I’ll trust you not to shoot me with that gun or pick up the Piranha to do the deed.”

  “How did you know I called my handgun that?” Firestone asks, the petty officer obviously shaken by the knowledge.

  “Because I read the notes for this story,” the lanky man replies, grinning at the blank expressions he receives. Throwing his knives into the ground, he points at the high caliber pistol and sighs. “Never mind. You have the word written on the side. Now let’s finish this because I really need to take a piss.”

  Cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders, the towering squad leader from Philadelphia throws a punch that Lloyd leaps away from. With a pompous smirk, Firestone charges and prepares to tackle the other man to the ground. His mind never registers the flash of metal as the serial killer pulls a third knife from behind his back. The blade drives into the blonde-haired soldier’s eye socket and his own momentum helps it find his brain. Lloyd yanks the weapon free as he steps to the side and ducks under the flailing arm that is disturbingly thick and turning purple. Both hands on the hilt, he repeatedly plunges the knife into Firestone’s back until the man is lifeless at this feet.

  “As if I’m stupid enough to fight this monster without a weapon. Honor be damned. Lloyd Tenay isn’t done living,” the black-haired killer declares, pausing when a gun presses against his head. The hammer pulls back and he can see Noah out of the corner of his eye. “Probably should ha
ve expected this and gone after you before gloating. Then again, I’m too important to get killed this way. I think. This would really suck if my story ends here. For no other reason than I’m oddly charming and humorous. Kind of like that supporting cast evil guy from the old monster hunting show, but I don’t have the accent.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Noah growls, his hands quivering with rage. The mere existence of the man before him makes him sick and the feeling gets worse when he realizes the savagery that ended the lives of his men. “This is to avenge my soldiers. I would have let you go if you hadn’t cheated, Mr. Tenay. At least then I would have known you to be an honorable person who might do some good with his life.”

  “I’ve never done anything that would give that impression.”

  “Those are your final words.”

  Lloyd keeps his eyes open even when the gunshot rings out, the weapon against his temple jolting upright and firing a few inches above his head. He stands up and stares into Noah’s eyes, which are gradually glazing over. With a gaping hole in his forehead, the squad leader from Pittsburgh collapses on top of his rival’s corpse.

  “Nobody tells Lloyd to shut the fuck up except me,” Cassidy states as she joins her companion. Her favorite handgun is in her hands, which are still handcuffed to the headrest that she pulled out of the seat. “I never enjoy killing a nice and honorable person, but that’s the way the world works now. Let’s gather their weapons and usable gear then get the fuck out of this crazy place. Oh, any part of you injured?”

  “Not even my pride.”

  “Good, but why are you grinning?”

  “I’m just so touched that you care about me.”

  Cassidy holsters her handgun and shakes her head, the words she wants to say not needing to be uttered out loud. Stopping at the jeep, she runs her fingers along all of the scratches on the hood. After having the car for less than a week, it is starting to look like it’s been abused for its entire life. There is the damage that Penny caused to the rear windshield, floodlights, and CD player. Now the paint is scratched everywhere, a seat is stained, and there is no telling if something happened to the engine when Noah forced the jeep into park. Angry about the damage to what is actually her first car, Cassidy draws her handgun and storms back to put another bullet in Noah and two more into Firestone.

  “Feeling better?” Lloyd asks, amused by the explosion of rage. “Not that I’m scared or against stuff like that. Honestly, it’s rather hot.”

  “Never say that to me again. Let’s go before I waste more ammo.”

  Songs and Stripes Part 1

  “All I’m saying is that I hate when somebody uses a patriotic or nearly patriotic title because it’s catchy, but the subject matter has nothing to do with the nation in question,” Lloyd explains, pausing only to take a drink from the canteen he took off Noah. Placing the container under his seat, he is careful not to cut himself on his extensive knife collection. “Now I’ll admit that I’m not into politics and my personal history means I can’t vote. Do people still vote in this country or is that a thing of the past? Doesn’t matter because my point here is that it’s wrong to toy with a person’s nationalistic pride and emotions. Most people love their homes, so it’s cruel to use that connection against them. I’m all for pain of the body and causing fear, but the human mind is so fragile that it kind of hurts to see it break that way. Did you know that you can actually see a person mentally snap if you look in their eyes at the right moment?”

  “I don’t even have the energy to repeat my side of this argument,” Cassidy moans, placing her head on the steering wheel. An ear-wrenching grind wakes her and she stops to adjust the gears, fearing that this is the time the jeep will die. “Let’s leave this conversation in the past. We need to find a way to get the car fixed or we’re stuck walking with all the supplies. Neddy will never sell to me again if he finds out how quickly I trashed this. Maybe we can find a mechanic in a nearby town and make a trade.”

  “Or we could ask that fat guy eating a bucket of hamburgers,” Lloyd suggests, pointing at a man across the street. He waves to the stranger, who is wearing a tan robe and holding out a wooden pendant that is shaped like a book. “Then again, I don’t like the look of his clothes and he keeps smiling. I made a list of post-apocalyptic clichés that we need to run into and already checked off the previous ones. Crazy cult is number four and I don’t feel ready for that. Why are you getting out of the car? Don’t give him any donations, but take any pamphlets that he offers because we’re running out of toilet paper!”

  Cassidy ignores her companion as she nears the heavyset, bald man and holds out her hands to show she is unarmed. The stranger merely smiles wider and moves his robe, revealing a padded baseball bat on his hip. Even with the weapon on display, the young woman knows she could easily win a fight with the traveler. He is obviously out of shape and wolfs down burgers as if he fears they will be stolen any second. Then again, the man seems very confident in his simple weapon and his unflinching smile makes her wary. Glancing at his feet, Cassidy sees that he has no shoes and his callused skin has become raw and bloody. Remembering what his pendant means, she quickly thinks of a way to fit him into the jeep that is already stuffed with supplies.

  “Do you need a ride, Brother of the Page?” she asks, part of her wondering if her offer will cause them to head in the wrong direction. “My name is Cassidy and that’s . . . Lloyd. Not sure where you’re heading, but we’re going west. At least until our vehicle breaks down. Still we can take you along to give your feet some rest. I think we have some socks that you can take, but nothing in the way of shoes.”

  “And what would you ask for in return?” the man replies in a soft, warm voice. He notices the condition of the jeep’s hood and a wisp of smoke coming from the engine. “I apologize, but my long travel has made me forget my manners. I am Brother Awry of the Library. My head is full of stories and I am returning to Cleveland to deposit them. Perhaps one of my brothers and sisters can help with your vehicle. We have many books on cars and there are mechanics all over the city. It is one of the few places blessed with minimal damage and a quick recovery after the riots.”

  “I did hear that Cleveland made out better than most, but also that it’s become infested with gangs,” Cassidy replies, waving for Lloyd to join them. She shakes her head when he steps out holding two knives, the killer making no attempt to appear harmless. “I’m sorry about him. He’s always on edge and we’ve had a lot of bad luck since leaving Long Island. To be completely honest, I broke him out of Rikers Island in New York and he has no idea what’s been going on out here. But I promise that he means you no harm.”

  “Don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Lloyd states once he gets across the street. He is about to say something else when Awry offers him a cheeseburger, the meat dripping with juices. “Sorry, but I only eat burgers on Tuesdays. Bet that odd reference went over everyone’s head. Anyway, I’ll play nice since you don’t seem like a threat. Not sure why a Friar Tuck cosplayer would be wandering around out here, but I’ve got a barely clothed vampire chick on my shirt, so I shouldn’t judge.”

  Cassidy laughs nervously and takes Lloyd a few steps away from Awry. “This man is a Librarian.”

  “Without glasses or long hair that he can flip to become super sexy?”

  “Please tell me you don’t think every librarian moonlights as a stripper.”

  “Of course not. Some of them don’t get paid when they have sex.”

  “Go back to the car.”

  “But-”

  “Go back to the fucking car!”

  Lloyd snarls and looks like he is about to take a swing at the glaring blonde, but he stops and immediately blows her a kiss. Jogging back to the jeep, he gets in on the driver’s side and rummages through the backseat. With a laugh of success, the unstable man turns back around with the megaphone in his hands. Closing the door and taking a seat against the tire, Lloyd calmly waits for an opportunity to bark his comments from acros
s the street.

  “I expected a serial killer to be more violent and less . . . entertaining,” Awry states when Cassidy returns to speak with him. He gobbles down another burger and pouts when he sees that there is only one left with a piece of onion dangling out of the bun. “I don’t like onions, but beggars cannot be choosers in this new world. That is why I will accept your offer even if your vehicle and companion are heavily damaged. Perhaps this was fate. Fictional stories talk of strange coincidences and I find that they occur in real life as well. Two strangers meet and follow a path to a lifetime of marriage. You stay home on a whim and learn there was an accident that you would have been involved in.”

  “Get to the point!” Lloyd announces over the megaphone.

  “I’m going to apologize right now for everything he does in the future,” Cassidy whispers after turning her back on the jeep. “Pardon me for rushing to the point, but it kind of sounds like you need someone like us in Cleveland. Maybe we can make a deal that can help with our dwindling supplies and vehicle repairs. That is unless I’m reading your talk about fate the wrong way.”

  Awry’s smile flickers for an instant, but Cassidy considers that it might be because the gluttonous Librarian is out of food. As much as she respects his order, the young woman is slightly annoyed that the man appears to have never felt the sting of starvation. Memories of going days without food rise to the surface of her mind, but they lead her to realize that it has been a long time since she suffered true hunger pangs. It strikes her as a possibility that Awry grew up in a similar situation and is simply making the most of his new position. She has heard of Librarians being paid for stories with pleasurable things such as women, food, and anything else that does not distort their memories. Being an order that prides itself on gathering knowledge, it is considered an insult to offer alcohol or drugs to one of their ranks. With a small shrug, Cassidy decides that she has nothing to lose and possibly a few useful items to gain. If anything, having a favor owed to her by a Librarian could come in handy.