Bedlam Lost

by Jack Castle

Chapter 30

  The Harbor

  “Something sank all the damn boats.”

  Hank pulled the battered SUV into the harbor parking lot. Emma was right. He turned to where she was pointing out the left side of their SUV. As the mist parted sporadically they all could see the harbor had been reduced to a boat graveyard, and not just from the tsunami. All the hulls were cracked and half-submerged like some leviathan had crushed each of them in angry tentacles.

  Hank shut the engine and sighed. Another hope dashed.

  But then Jeb said, “Wait, not all of them. Look.”

  Amidst the broken hulls stood one solitary trawler that appeared relatively unscathed.

  “That’s Tommy Barton’s boat, The Red Salmon.”

  There’s still hope.

  “Wait a minute?” Hank had a bad feeling. “Why that one? All the other boats are smashed, why isn’t that one?”

  “Who cares? Cause I sure as hell ain’t going back thru that tunnel,” Jeb said impatiently, cracking his door and getting out. Hank was worried about the car’s bell dinging making too much noise so he took the keys out of the ignition and put them on the center console.

  “No one is, Jeb, I don’t know if you noticed but the tunnel’s collapsed,” Doc said dryly.

  Jeb frowned.

  Hank was about to get out too when he noticed that Emma had gone white. Something had frightened her, and he didn’t think it was the train creature back at the tunnel. No, this was something new. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

  She was staring at the water. “In the water,” she said in a catatonic state.

  It took him a moment, but soon Hank saw the shark fins cutting the water as they swam in and out of the wrecked boats, searching hungrily for their next meal.

  “I’m not going on the water.” Emma shivered and rubbed her shoulders for warmth. Staring at the black fins cutting the water she said, “You guys can go on without me, but I’m not leaving town by going out there, boat or not.”

  “What, and face that thing in the tunnel?” Jeb asked incredulously. “I’m not going near the water. Leave me the keys and go on without me.”

  Hank got out and circled around to her side of the car. He gently opened her door and said softly, “Emma, this might be our only chance; this might be our only way out of here.”

  Doc leaned forward, his chin resting on the seat back, “Emma, we’ll be right by your side every step of the way. Okay?”

  Hank could tell she wasn’t happy about the idea, but Emma allowed him to lead her out of the car. When he went to let go she clasped his hand even tighter.

  They started walking across the parking lot towards the docked trawler. They soon reached the gate that lead down one arm of the dock, which in turn would lead to the boat.

  Hank took out his master key ring and fiddled with the lock. As he did so he heard Jeb say behind him, “Hank, we got a problem.”

  Hank turned to see about twenty longshoremen filing out of the port facility and lining up in front of the entrance.

  “You think they’re friendlies?”

  “One way to find out… Hey you guys all right?” Jeb hollered over to them. “You guys made it too, huh?”

  But Hank could see they were not all right. Each of them had black soulless eyes. Stranger still, as the horde moved closer, Hank could see strange zipper tracks on their faces, like someone had unzipped their skins, rooted around inside their bodies, and zipped them back up again. He also noted some of them were carrying machetes, another held a tire iron, and a really big guy wearing overalls brandished a fireman’s ax.

  “C’mon, let’s get back to the car,” Hank said urgently.

  Jeb clearly had set his sights on the boat because he said, “I ain’t going back to the car. We’ve got guns, I say we just blast our way through.”

  “First of all, those are human beings,” Hank said harshly. “Just in case you need the reminder, we can’t just go around killing people. Second of all, even if we do need to start shooting, I don’t think we have enough ammo to take them all on anyway.”

  “Anything’s better than that thing in the tunnel. And I sure as hell ain’t going back to that damn diner.”

  While he’d been arguing with Jeb, Hank noted the longshoreman horde had managed to fan out into a line.

  Emma glanced at him. Fear in her eyes. “Here they come,” she warned. Hank pulled her back behind him.

  Jeb chambered a round in his shotgun. “Then they better get the hell out of my way.”

  “Oh, Jeb, violence, violence, violence. That’s your answer to everything.” Everyone turned and saw Simon sitting on top of a nearby cargo container with that same stupid grin. “I see you haven’t learned nuthin’ since your days as a jolly old ice cream man.”

  Gesturing toward the longshoremen Hank asked Simon, “What did you do to them?”

  Simon smiled. “They’re all Unfortunates now. And the Unfortunates belong unto me. Didn’t you read my signs,” he held up his hands for dramatic effect, “‘Beware the Unfortunates?’” Simon frowned. “Geez, I do all this signage and nobody appreciates it.”

  “Well I say, bring ‘em on,” Jeb growled.

  In answer, a rock sailed out of the horde, flew high overhead, and landed with a loud THOCK. Hank realized the sound had been the Unfortunate’s rock connecting with the top of Jeb’s skull. The old sheriff teetered for a moment, blood trickling down from his forehead, and then he fell over on the tarmac, his gun clattering to the ground beside him.

  “Emma, give me a hand with Jeb,” Hank shouted, but she was already there. It took both of them to hoist a dazed Jeb to his feet.

  “What hit me?” he asked drunkenly.

  “Help him back to the car.” Hank noted the doc had recovered the shotgun. Nodding to the doc he said, “The doc and I will cover your retreat.”

  “Odessa!” Emma shouted. “I see Odessa.”

  Hank saw the grumpy waitress’s head bobbing up and down behind the crowd of Unfortunates. Even at a distance Hank could tell something was wrong with the way her head kept bouncing up and down like that. Then she vanished in the crowd.

  “Just go, Emma. The doc and I will get her,” he commanded, knowing full well they wouldn’t be able to save their own skins let alone Odessa’s. The expression on Doc’s face said he knew it too.

  “But Odessa’s over there,” Emma said. She was really losing it now.

  “Emma,” Hank said soothingly, “I need you to take Jeb to the car, can you do that for me?”

  Emma nodded, “Sure, Hank.” With Jeb’s meaty arm over her slender shoulders, she shuffled towards the car.

  “You go too, Doc,” Hank said, holding out his hand, “Just leave me the shotgun and I’ll buy you guys some time.”

  In an incredulous tone the doc roared back, “Like hell you will!”

  Hank nodded his thanks and drew his pistol. He would wait to the last possible moment to take human life but he was beginning to think that was an eventuality in this situation.

  On shotgun, the doc had no such reservations. He spun, leveled the shotgun at the first of the Unfortunates to arrive, and fired. The Unfortunate swinging a pipe wrench wildly overhead was immediately catapulted backwards.

  Hank shot the next Unfortunate in the face and what was left of him collapsed to pavement. The combination of his revolver and Doc’s shotgun was devastating. They stood back to back and emptied their weapons into the horde of Unfortunates closing in on them. Their gunshots melded into a symphony of chaos. Hank darted out of the way of more machete wielding unfortunates, firing constantly, blowing them apart. He scampered back to Doc, reloading just in time to keep an Unfortunate from driving a heavy screwdriver into his chest.

  Three more Longshoremen came at Hank, each of them wielding heavy machetes. Must have been a sale. Hank nailed two of them but missed
the third one … who managed to get close enough to slice his jacket open. Doc blasted the Unfortunate with buckshot.

  “Thanks!”

  Hank noticed Emma and Jeb had nearly made it to the car. At least they were going to make it. He also saw an Unfortunate break away from the pack, a fast one with a butcher’s clever, making a beeline for them. It was a long shot but Hank tracked the attacker with the revolver’s iron sights. Before he could squeeze the trigger another Unfortunate stepped up and swung a machete at his head. Hank ducked reflexively. Spotting Emma, he could see the clever-wielding Unfortunate was almost at her back. Taking only a split second to control his breathing and line up his shot once more he tracked the target and pulled the trigger.

  BOOM!

  “Damn, that was a good shot, Hank!” Simon cheered from somewhere nearby.

  Hank didn’t have time to take a bow; he dodged another swipe from the machete’s blade and shot its wielder in the throat. He cracked opened the pistol’s cylinder and let the empty shells fall. They tinkled when they hit the ground. He slammed home his last speed loader, flipped the cylinder closed, and shot down four more Unfortunates.

  His estimation had been right; far more Unfortunates than they had bullets. Echoing this, the doc yelled beside him. “I’m out of ammo!” In a fit of rage the doc hurled his empty shotgun at one of them and punched another before an arrow suddenly struck him in the shoulder. He cried out in pain.

  Hank scanned the trajectory and shot the Unfortunate with the crossbow twice in the chest right as he was loading another bolt. “Doc, you’re hurt. Can you make it to the car?”

  The doc waivered and Hank stepped up to cushion his fall.

  “Hank, you’ve got to listen to me.” He gripped Hank by the back of the neck, his words almost pleading, “You’re not where you think you are.”

  “What are you talking about, Doc?” Hank asked and lowered his injured friend to the ground.

  Doc pulled him closer. “Simon … don’t listen to anything he says.” Any moment Hank expected to feel a blade pierce his skin. Instead two burly longshoremen ripped Hank from the doc’s side and held him up between them.

  “Let me go you bastards!” Hank struggled with his attackers but could only watch as the crowd parted to reveal the same man Hank had seen on his first day of arrival. It was the scary guy who pounded on the hood of his car with his meaty hand and told him to hurry up and board the train. Wielding a red fireman’s ax he strode forward and buried the blade deep into the doc’s chest.

  “Nooooo!!” shouted Hank, cursing and swearing vengeance, but he knew it was an idle threat. The Unfortunates holding him were strong and forced him down to his knees. A third man, who was actually a woman, grabbed him by his hair and held his face up so he could see what came next.

  The ax wielder braced his foot against the doc’s chest and wrenched the ax free. Its blade dripped with the doc’s blood. He carried the ax slowly towards Hank, his intent clear.

  At least Emma and Jeb got away.

  The longshoreman lifted the ax again, and was about to swing down with all his strength into the center of Hank’s head when a loud whistle pierced the last wisps of fog.

  The horde of Unfortunates still held Hank, but the crowd parted and allowed Simon to enter.

  “Hank, Hank, Hank … what are we going to do with you?”

  Hank saw Doc’s lifeless body on the pavement. “I’ll kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  “Awww, Hank. I hate to see you like this. Did you lose your friend? That’s okay, I’ve got someone else you can play with.” Simon clapped his hands and held them out, waiting to catch something. It was Odessa’s severed head. Simon had mounted it on one end of a broomstick. He rhythmically paraded it up and down, her mouth permanently frozen open in a scream. “Did you know Mrs. Odessa here was a strung out junkie; addicted to crack since birth? Doctors said poor little thing never had a chance. When she was hooking on the streets she became pregnant, ended up throwing her baby in a dumpster. She did that three times in her life by the way.” Simon turned towards Odessa’s head, “Isn’t that right, Odessa?” He grabbed her bottom lip with his free hand and in a bad ventriloquist impression said, “That’s right, Mr. Simon,” and shrieked, “I was a bad … wittle girl.”

  Hank was nauseated…

  Simon switched his gaze back to Hank. “Don’t worry, Hank, I’ve got a broomstick for you, too.” He nodded to the Unfortunate with the ax indicating he had permission to continue his grisly work.

  Exhausted, Hank hung defeated between the two Unfortunates. His journey was over. He took comfort in the fact that Emma and Jeb escaped and he would be seeing his wife and kids again soon.

  HONK!!!

  The sound of a blaring horn shook Hank out of his despair.

  The SUV slammed into the horde of Unfortunates like a giant bowling ball knocking over human-sized pins.

  Using the distraction, Hank shook off the Unfortunates holding him and bolted for the car. He glimpsed Emma behind the wheel waving to him to get in.

  Hank almost tore off the handle on the driver’s side door as he hurried to get inside. Emma jumped in the passenger seat and Hank took her spot behind the wheel.

  In the back Jeb was struggling to remove his pistol from its holster around his girth.

  The Unfortunates converged on the car.

  “Hank, let’s go,” Emma shouted beside him.

  “I see ‘em,” he answered as he put the car in drive. He took one last sorrowful glance at Doc’s body in the rearview mirror, and then punched the accelerator. Tires squealing on the slick road, the SUV sideswiped a cargo container, spitting up sparks as it tore out away from the docks.

  Several Unfortunates auditioned for the role of hood ornament.

  Chapter 31

  The Airport

  For the moment they were safe.

  As they sped down the road Emma finally was able to control her breathing long enough to ask, “Where to now?”

  Hank shook his head. He was out of ideas. He wasn’t even sure where he was driving, other than back across town.

  “Hey Hank, do you know how to fly a plane?” This was Jeb from the backseat. He was holding a dirty cloth to his bleeding head.

  “Fly, yes. Take off, sure. Land, not so much. Why?”

  Jeb patted him on the shoulder and pointed out the left window. Hank slowed. A small runway, not much more than a wide dirt road, swathed through the rugged wilderness of the mountainside beyond the edge of town. The clear-cut airfield glowed in the settling light of evening. It was high enough up the hillside the planes should’ve been unscathed by the tsunamis.

  “Don’t bother, all the planes will probably be smashed,” Emma grumbled.

  By the time they reached the airstrip, dusk had turned to night, and they could see Emma’s prediction held true as the pale light of the moon glinted off scattered metal parts. Just like the harbor, all the planes had been sabotaged. But not just to the extent of flat tires, or broken wings, the small planes appeared as though King Kong had used them for kickball practice.

  “Wait a minute, not all of them,” Jeb said.

  A solitary plane sat beneath a single working light. Most of the other lights were heavily damaged or were throwing sparks. Beneath the single spotlight, sat a small single engine 250 super cub; it was the plane of choice that Bush pilots used to fly supplies out to rural communities.

  Wow, deja vu, this is just like the boats, Hank thought. Before he could mention it, he heard one of the rear passenger doors unlatch. It was Jeb again. “What are we waiting for, let’s go.”

  “Hey Jeb, did you not learn anything at the harbor?”

  “What?” Jeb asked, almost whining. “Can you fly or not?”

  Hank had been taking flying lessons in Wyoming, and he was just short of his solo flight, but that’s not what was bothe
ring him. “I can get us in the air and chart a course but I’ve never soloed and I’m not sure I could even land us safely. Plus, don’t you think it’s weird whatever it was wiped out every single plane except one?”

  “Who cares, we were overdue for a little luck. If you can get us airborne and the hell out of here, I’m game. Crash us anywhere you like just so long as it’s not here in HavenPort.”

  Emma glanced over at him, “Hank, you’re thinking it’s a trap, like at the harbor?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  Jeb wasn’t satisfied. “All I’m saying is let’s just see if the plane’s operable, and got gas. If not, then at least we know it’s not an option.”

  As they thought it over Jeb began walking across the airfield.

  “Jeb, wait,” Hank called after him.

  The solitary light bulb above the plane blew out. As fast as his legs could carry him, Jeb was diving back into the car. “Okay, so the airport’s out.”

  Hank didn’t wait around for whatever ate the light to venture out onto the road and they sped off.

  As they turned back for town, it became quickly apparent that every building in HavenPort that had survived the tsunami was without power, save one.

  The diner; the bright yellowish interior lights blazed like a lighthouse to lost souls.

  Chapter 32

  A Little Remodeling

  Hank led the way into the diner with only two bullets left in his gun.

  The shotgun had gotten left behind in the harbor, and after a careful search of the SUV the only remaining ammo they could find was two dropped cartridges under the seat. They had tried driving by the office for more weapons and ammunition, but the buildings had collapsed on both sides of the street and were little more than large piles of rubble, making the way impassable.

  They parked in the parking lot. They could hear music playing on the jukebox. The song sounded like an Eagles tune, “Hotel California”.

  When Hank first opened the door he’d expected to see the diner as they had left it. Instead, he was surprised to find a completely different establishment. Off the cuff, it reminded him of a 50’s diner. Bright red swivel stools lined up against a long shiny counter with a golden handrail running the length of the countertop. On the counter Hank saw an old-fashioned malt machine behind an equally antiquated cash register. Paddle-fans gently stirred the air overhead and there was even a frosty ice cream cooler filled with assorted flavors. The diner’s normal dingy tables and chairs were gone, replaced with plastic booths. The only thing reminiscent of the old restaurant was that creepy buck toothed stuffed otter and his stupid sign, ‘Otter Behave.’ A colorful jukebox continued playing “Hotel California” in the corner. The music grew louder for a moment.