Mayor Bellis scratches one of the bald patches on her head, which draws blood from the scabs that should have healed years ago. “This is the problem with those who live in the ruins of our once great land. They think threats hold power when such words are nothing more than empty posturing. It may work against an uneducated person, but I went to an expensive college and read non-fiction books every day. Everyone here has been taught to see through such empty words. None of our minds are bogged down by useless information. All you’ve accomplished is wasting your final minutes instead of savoring them. This was your chance to make a case and see if you could sway the crowd to your side, which I will admit has never happened.”
“I’m basically screwed no matter what because of my past, right?” Lloyd asks with a wide yawn. He waves to the people of San Francisco, who throw glass bottles at the stage. “Given that I read books too, some that don’t even have pictures, I feel I should point out a few flaws in your plan. One is that it’s easier to shoot a person immediately instead of taking them onto a stage for a show. Nobody do anything because it’s already too late and shooting me now would mean she’s admitting her mistake. Remember that your leader missed her chance to finish us off when she’s up for reelection or whatever happens here. Second, you seem to think everyone out there will die off when, in reality, they’re thriving. You even said that in your speech. People are breeding and raising kids out there. Not to mention farming and making medicines. Meanwhile, this city could be wiped out by an outbreak, drought, or food shortage. If you really want to fix the world then bring people in to reeducate them or go the conquering route. It’s ridiculous that you’re sitting on your asses and occasionally killing travelers in a style that reminds me of a high school talent show. Right, kid?”
“I’m going to request one more time if I can cast my mom’s ashes off the Golden Gate Bridge,” Cassidy growls, her fingers touching a weapon hidden in her jacket lining. She grips the black and gold grenade and hooks her thumb on the pin. “This is your last chance to do the right thing. Not everyone out there deserves death. Most of us are broken, but we only want to survive and be happy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I believe the show is over and my people can see why I am right,” the one-eyed woman retorts, signaling for her soldiers to come onto the stage. “Coax them into the pit when I’m clear and shoot their legs if they resist.”
Five armed men walk up the stairs while the other soldiers move to prevent the crowd from trying to help with the execution. Mayor Bellis is about to leave the stage when Cassidy grabs her by the wrist and reveals the colorful grenade. The soldiers see the pin bounce into the pit, so they can only aim their weapons at the outsider. News spreads through the populace that if Cassidy is killed then the grenade will go off and kill their leader. They assume executing Lloyd will cause the young woman to snap, the stories of vengeful and psychotic anarchists having been driven into the minds of every citizen of San Francisco. Pressing the explosive against the side of Mayor Bellis’s head, Cassidy backs toward the edge of the stage with Lloyd a few steps behind. Making sure the politician has no surprises, the tense blonde uses her free hand to check for hidden weapons and slips a remote control out of a pocket. The travelers can see the entrance is only a few blocks away, but there is a sea of bodies in their path.
“You can’t get out of here alive,” Mayor Bellis claims loud enough for her people to hear the words. She sucks in a sharp breath when the grenade is rubbed against her scabs. “Just surrender and accept your death like a noble creature. Dying here is better than rotting away out there.”
“How long can your people survive without you?” Cassidy whispers, nodding for Lloyd to cover her rear. She grins at the flicker of fear on the politician’s face and realizes that the city will fall apart without their benevolent ruler. “You were so obsessed with creating your great world and being in charge that you never set up a chain of succession. Guessing this show has always been done with terrified people begging for their lives. You made a mistake bringing in a pair of survivors like us. Lloyd might be a killer, but I’ve found him a better human being than most of the people I’ve met out there . . . and in here. Now this is your last chance to let us go or we bring your city down.”
“The United States of America will be purified of anarchists and rise again!”
A narrow path opens for the outsiders to gradually move away from the stage and they can see the horror in all the faces around them. The people of San Francisco have been shielded from real violence, so this raw aggression is unnerving and plunges them into uselessness. Using the hole in her jacket pocket, Cassidy clicks the safety off her handgun and draws it while stepping into the crowd. The threat of the grenade frightens the locals and the soldiers are unwilling to risk hitting their leader. One of the ones on the stage attempts to scare the outsiders by firing his machinegun into the air, the man receiving a bleach-filled paintball to his face. Hacking and coughing, he trips over his own feet and falls into the shaft where a gurgle is the last anyone hears from him.
The other citizens and soldiers have no time to react to the man’s death because Cassidy abruptly puts two bullets in Mayor Bellis’s head. Wanting to make sure the woman is dead, she puts another in her enemy’s back before hurrying after Lloyd. Screaming obscenities and bizarre threats, the serial killer is sending a barrage of paintballs ahead to clear the panicking locals out of the way. With so many people running around, it is impossible for the guards to get a clear shot at the outsiders. Their own people are killed whenever the men and women fire their machineguns, so they switch to knives and plunge into the crowd. Those rushing from the front are unaccustomed to the savagery that Lloyd unleashes, his sharpened machete sending limbs and heads to the ground with every swing.
With her sore ankle slowing her down, Cassidy stays low and keeps the grenade in the open to avoid getting shot. They are a block away from the eastern bridge when one of the soldiers catches her by the collar of her pea coat. She is yanked to the ground where another man tries to wrestle the explosive away. The one who has a tight grip on the jacket gets her to stop moving by pressing the muzzle of his machinegun into the hole over her heart. He is about to pull the trigger when his head is separate from his neck and the gun is kicked away from Cassidy. The falling corpse manages to fire the weapon, which barely misses the young woman’s arm and kills the other soldier. Scrambling to her feet, she lets Lloyd help her along for a few steps before they return to running on their own.
A squad of soldiers have moved to block the entrance, their guns trained on the crowd and waiting for the escaping prisoners to appear. With their attention focused on the stampeding citizens, they are unable to react to the black and gold grenade that sails out of the mob. The soldiers scatter from the weapon and dive behind the nearest cover. Cowering with their heads between their knees, it takes the men and women a precious minute to notice the lack of an explosion. By the time they crawl out of their hiding places, Cassidy and Lloyd are already passing through the gate. They barely hear the limping blonde complaining about the grenade being a dud.
The pair skid to a stop a few inches from where the guns on the wall make a mess of the asphalt. With the soldiers coming from behind and there being no way to cross the bridge, Cassidy and Lloyd leap into the ocean. The last thing that the people of San Francisco see of the outsiders is one hand extending a middle finger and another pressing a green button on their deceased leader’s remote control. From beneath the waves, the travelers watch bursts of orange appear around the gate and race along the bridge.
*****
“Where are we?” Cassidy asks as she wakes up and sees that they are in the jeep. She watches as they pass a crooked sign that says ‘Go’, the rest of the message marred by splintered wood. “I’m in dry clothes and my shirt is on backwards. Why is this blanket taped around my legs and made to look like a giant fin? What happened?”
“You swallowed enough bay water to become an honora
ry mermaid,” Lloyd happily declares while he parks the jeep. Seeing the dull expression on his friend’s face, he sighs and cuts her out of the blanket. “Well I thought it was funny. Figured you would need a laugh since our journey ended in disaster and you almost died. Nearly lost you in the ocean, but I got us to shore. Took a little work to revive you, but I did a good job considering I’m not a doctor. Only killed one who owned a rabbit-eared TV. Anyway, you were unconscious, so I dried you off and got you dressed . . . except for the bra because I couldn’t figure out the clasp. It was prom night all over again. Before you panic, the locket is dangling from the rearview mirror.”
Cassidy puts the necklace on while the sensation of pins and needles runs along her legs. “I don’t know what to do with this. My mom wanted one thing and I couldn’t give it to her. All because some lunatic in a bloody dress wanted to revive the nation and commit mass murder for her cause. Maybe I should hold onto it. Not like I have any other options.”
“I was trying to tell you that there is a third option.”
“What is it?”
“Hop out of the car, kid, and let me show you.”
“Is this where you kill me because I’m not longer useful as a guide?”
“We’ll come to that in a bit.”
“I’m taking my gun.”
Putting on the wet pea coat and grabbing one of the dry handguns, Cassidy gets out of the jeep. She turns to find that Lloyd has disappeared and cautiously moves her hand to the comforting firearm. The exhausted blonde is unsure if she is preparing for the serial killer to attack or some other surprise, her mind still in a haze. She relaxes when the man steps out of a nearby shack with a pair of golf clubs in his hands. The rusty objects cause her to pay attention to her surroundings, the pastel colored buildings barely recognizable after years of decay. Dimpled balls are scattered about the ground, some of them marked with dry blood as if they were used as weapons. Several bodies are around the abandoned miniature golf course, all of them Wilders who must have been involved in a fight over territory. Cassidy would not be surprised if they saw some of the more durable structures as potential homes.
Curious about what Lloyd is planning, she follows him through the course and keeps an eye out for danger. A few shadows draw her attention, but they are nothing more than squirrels that have no fear of the two humans. It is only when the whistling man begins hitting balls in random directions that the bushy-tailed rodents rush back into the trees. The pair go through the entire place before coming to one of the holes that is within sight of their jeep. Cassidy cannot stop herself from grinning at the small replica of the Golden Gate Bridge, complete with a basin that is filled with rainwater.
“Came here once when I was a kid,” Lloyd explains, tossing the clubs aside. He takes a seat on what he thinks is either the head of a giant statue or a bizarrely shaped rock. “Probably the only good vacation my family ever took. Though to be fair, my dad was trying to escape a warrant back home and got caught anyway. Enough about me even though I’m probably the most awesome friend in the world now. This is the best I can do to help you honor your mother and I think she’d understand the stretching of her wish.”
“She would,” Cassidy agrees as she leans over the small bridge. Opening the locket, she does her best to spread the small amount of ashes across the entire thing. “Bye, mom. Hope you’re proud of me for trying my best and getting you this far.”
“Not to mention everything else you’ve done during our trip,” the killer points out while he searches his pockets for a tissue. All of them have been used, so he gives up and offers his sleeve to the young woman. “You’ve crippled a few regimes, locked in some great deals, kicked ass in Nebraska, and made a nice reputation for yourself. Uh, you want to do something because my arm is getting tired.”
“I’m not wiping my nose on your arm,” the blonde states as she removes the pea coat and holds it out. She moves her hands to the bullet hole and sticks her thumb through the frayed opening. “Funny that you mention me making a reputation for myself. It was always mom who had that while I tagged along. Now I’m on my own and . . . it’s time to let go. Don’t go anywhere because there’s something I need to get.”
“I’ll just be here singing a really annoying song based on what you said.”
“Please don’t.”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules when it comes to these things.”
“Just hum it, so you don’t ruin the moment.”
“Sure thing, kid.”
Folding the pea coat, Cassidy gives it a kiss and gently places it next to the basin. She fixes her shirt as she heads back to the jeep, her arms still inside the top by the time she reaches the vehicle. The young woman finishes getting dressed before disappearing into the backseat and randomly throwing old clothes out the door. After several minutes, Cassidy returns wearing a denim jacket that is frayed around the cuffs. The rope that would normally tighten the cloth hood is missing, but she cannot remember ever putting that part up anyway. Holding the old jacket open, she shows Lloyd the twin holsters that have been sewn into the underside. One has her favorite handgun while the other has a firearm that she has not used since the day her mother was murdered. The empty weapon still has a little blood on the grip from when she beat her mom’s killer to death, an act she realizes would make her companion proud.
“Your old self has been in that jeep the whole time, huh?” Lloyd asks, chuckling at the way the young woman spins around. He notices how her hands continue to move toward the guns and her eyes are watching his every move. “Don’t worry. Be pretty stupid for me to kill my best friend. This maniac has grown quite fond of you, kid. That and I don’t really know what I’m going to do in this place.”
“You could do anything,” Cassidy mentions while adjusting her sleeves. She reaches for her guns a few times, searching for the perfect position in case she has to draw them quickly. “This new world must be a playground for a serial killer. Nothing stopping you from doing what you love. At least no police and you can easily run away without warrants following you across the borders. I mean, I don’t always like the country being in chaos and sometime wish for my old life, but I’m surprised you feel lost.”
“Because the place is in chaos,” the man replies as he picks some dried seaweed out of his hair. He hops off his perch and playfully swings himself around a nearby pole, the paint coming off against his palms. “Before the collapse, I was a monster among men. That made me stand out, so causing mayhem gave me some purpose and personal satisfaction. Now everyone seems to be as crazy as I am and . . . well, I’m not special here. Not as a random killer anyway. What’s the point of being a monster when you’re surrounded by them? It’s so boring and it makes me feel like I’m just going along with the crowd. Sticking with you means I’ll always have a purpose and life will remain interesting. That and . . . I can’t really imagine going on any adventures without you as my partner. Meant totally as family and business. Having flashbacks to Wyoming all of a sudden. Just need to think happy Illinois thoughts. Anyway, I guess we have to figure out what to do to keep ourselves occupied.”
“You want another adventure?”
“Don’t you?”
Cassidy grins without hesitation and draws her empty handgun to spin it a few times. “I guess we can survive and have fun at the same time. All we have to figure out is where we go next. There are a lot of places you’ve yet to see. Not to mention all of the loose ends and deals we left behind.”
“There’s cannibal hunting.”
“We do have to visit Katie again.”
“Probably should get some revenge on that warden.”
“Need to make amends with the Trade Barons back east.”
“Be nice to see Tyler and Rose again.”
“Or we can do something entirely new.”
Lloyd puts an arm around Cassidy’s shoulders, which she slips out of and walks backwards until they reach the jeep. She stubbornly stands in front of the driver’s side door, forcin
g him to get into the passenger seat. The young woman spends a few extra minutes staring at the pea coat and ash-dusted replica of the Golden Gate Bridge. Part of her wants to leave the locket behind as well, but she tucks it into one of her breast pockets instead. Satisfied and ready to get back on the road, Cassidy hops into the dark blue jeep and starts the engine, the CD player coming on to play a rock song about resting at the end of a long journey.
“This has been a very odd origin story,” Lloyd says, interrupting his friend’s somber thoughts. He leans away from the scowl he receives, but still reaches out to playfully poke her on the nose. “Well I think it’s odd. So many weird people and adventures along the way. Kind of hard to keep track of everything at times, especially this jeep because it kept breaking. Usually when you were driving, but that’s probably just a coincidence. Now we’re heading off into the unknown while the audience decides if they love, hate, or couldn’t care less about us. The fate of our return is in the hands of-”
“Oh, just shut the fuck up, Lloyd.”
Crossing Bedlam Page 33