Wasteland Wonderland: Part 2

by J. L. Harden

Slamming on the breaks.

  Causing the crash.

  Hoping for the best.

  I guess it wasn’t the greatest idea I’ve ever had.

  I try opening the door, but it won’t budge. It’s warped and smashed out of shape. I turn in my seat and put both feet against the door, kicking and pushing.

  Eventually the door flies off the hinges.

  I tear some fake leather off the head rest of my seat and wrap it around a piece of broken glass that looks like a knife. It’s sharp and pointy and capable of slicing through skin and flesh, and right now this is as good as it gets in terms of weaponry. I grab this knife and I get in the frame of mind a person needs to be in to do what I’m about to do, the frame of mind you need to be in to stab a person to death.

  Looking them in the eye.

  Listening to the sharp inhale of breath, to their screams as the knife goes in and does its damage.

  It’s an intimate thing, killing a man with a knife, and you need to be in the right frame of mind to do it.

  I tell Angel to wait in the Sunspeeder. I tell her I’ll be right back.

  I make my way to Mike’s Sunspeeder, the bigger, faster, more powerful machine. And even though it was bigger, even though it was more powerful, the damage to the front end of the Sunspeeder is catastrophic. The driver, the poor bastard, has flown out of his seat, through the front windshield. The glass has cut him to shreds. The impact has destroyed his skull. There is blood everywhere.

  Bits of bone and brain.

  So much carnage.

  But no sign of Mike Malone.

  The passenger side door is open. Drops of blood lead off into the darkness. There is a fork in the tunnel, a little hidden side passage.

  “Mike!”

  I’m breathing hard and I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to kill a man with a piece of glass shaped like a knife. I’m ready to listen to his screams, to his last breaths, the death rattle.

  I’m ready for the fight and the kill.

  But Mike has fled the scene.

  “Mike!”

  I call out, blood lust in my voice and a kind of desperate need for violence, to put an end to the hunt, to get it over and done with. But there will be no relief. Not yet. Mike has run away. He’s disappeared into the dark labyrinth of the deep tunnels.

  I drop the piece of glass on the ground.

  Angel is beside me.

  “I thought I told you to wait in the Sunspeeder.”

  “Couldn’t wait. Too dark.”

  She talks in incomplete sentences. She’s in shock and she’s not making a whole lot of sense. But I understand her perfectly. She doesn’t want to be alone. Not for a second. Not down here. Not after everything that’s happened to her.

  “What are we going to do,” she asks.

  “I don’t know. But we need to finish this. We need to take the fight to him.”

  “How?”

  I shake my head because I’m not entirely sure. But a small plan starts to take shape in my mind. Another crazy and over the top plan.

  Something they won’t ever expect.

  I could storm the Mayor’s fortress. Take the fight to him.

  Get Mike out of hiding.

  No more chase. No more hunt.

  I’ll flush him out like the rat bastard that he is.

  Get everything out in the open.

  Lay our cards on the table.

  Show our hand.

  I like this plan.

  I fucking love this plan.

  “We need to get some guns,” I say. “We need to load up. Prepare for war.”

  Angel doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t complain and she doesn’t tell me I’m crazy.

  Instead, she nods her head.

  And she smiles.

  Because she likes this plan.

  She fucking loves this plan.

  Chapter 16

  The hunt continues for the moment. I’m not off the hook yet.

  Angel tells me that she had a rucksack full of guns, full of ammunition and grenades and other instruments of death. She says she hid this bag at the Water Treatment Plant. She says it might still be there.

  I don’t share her optimism.

  “They would’ve cleared the place out,” I say. “They would’ve gone over it with a fine tooth comb. But don’t worry. I know a few places that might be able to help us out.”

  “Help us out? How? We don’t have any money. We have nothing to barter with or trade with.”

  “We won’t be trading or buying anything.”

  “Then what the hell are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to ask really nicely.”

  We leave the scene of carnage behind. And initially we’re following Mike’s blood trail. I start to think maybe finding him will be as easy as following this trail. But then the blood disappears. He must’ve realized he was bleeding. Must’ve realized he was leaving a trail. I guess he bandaged himself up.

  No matter. We still need to make one last stop before we get down to business.

  We make sure to be careful. We stick to the deep tunnels. And the back alleys. We stick to the shadows.

  We eventually arrive at our destination.

  Lisa’s bar. The Terminal.

  The bar has a sign on the front door that says it’s closed for repairs and renovation.

  I slide the door open anyway.

  Lisa is standing behind the counter, looking over some blueprints that she quickly hides away. “Sheriff? What can I do for you?”

  “Well, actually, it’s ex-Sheriff.”

  “Oh. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the sudden influx of Enforcers into our fair city, would it? Wonderland getting all up in our business and our affairs. Like they ever cared about us.”

  “Yeah. It has something to do with that.”

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “Heard there was some trouble here. Mercs. Enforcers. Thought maybe one of them might’ve left something behind in all that mess that Hector created. Thought maybe I could borrow it.”

  Actually, it’s not like Hector caused or created any of that mess. And the Enforcers and the Mercs were foolish enough to fight the man. Hector Ramirez, Wasteland survivor, the Exiled. Everybody knows you don’t fuck with Hector. The price on his head must’ve been huge. Big enough to risk life and limb.

  Lisa says, “Yeah. There was lots of stuff left behind. A small fortune in forged steel. Plenty of knives. Small hatchets. Even a couple of swords. Hector was kind enough to leave it all behind. It will more than cover the cost of the damage.”

  “Any guns?”

  “I’m sorry. Hector took the guns.”

  Damn.

  “But hey, you can never have enough steel,” she says.

  Lisa then reaches below the bar, retrieving two knives.

  Daggers. Straight blade. Double edged. A matching set.

  I really wanted guns. I really needed guns. But I’m not going to turn down good forged steel.

  Sharp and nasty.

  “Thanks, Lisa. This will do nicely.”

  “You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

  Trouble? Yeah. But not just any kind. The worst kind.

  I don’t say this.

  Instead I say, “Nothing I can’t handle, Lisa. Good luck with the renovations.”

  No need to scare her or anyone else. No need to cause a panic. Because truthfully, the odds aren’t really in our favor. This plan, storming the Mayor’s fortress and killing a whole lot of people, it reeks of desperation, the kind of impulsiveness borne from anger and emotion.

  I push these concerns from my mind. And I focus on the positives, on the things that are going right for us.

  We’ve got two knives.

  Daggers.

  A matching set.

  Straight blade and double edged.

  These knives are pretty sweet, I guess. But we still need a gun.

  Yeah, if we’re storming the Mayor’s fortress we will definitely
need a gun.

  Or two.

  Or three.

  Another crazy idea pops into my head, and I can’t get it out, can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve got a spare gun hidden at my apartment. It’s hidden under my bed. I’m pretty sure they’ll be watching the joint, but there’s no way in hell they’ll be expecting me to go anywhere near it.

  No one would be so stupid.

  And while I’m not totally stupid, I am completely desperate.

  And I know the risks.

  I know the reward.

  The reward will be a semi-automatic pistol.

  Four spare magazines.

  Two of which contain hollow point rounds.

  One of which contains standard issue, full metal jacket.

  And one of which contains armor piercing rounds.

  This reward is worth the risk of being seen, worth the risk of being trapped in my apartment. Worst case scenario, it will bring Mike out of hiding and I can end that bastard’s rotten and twisted life all the more sooner.

  I say goodbye to Lisa and I’m about to leave. But then I hear the door slide open and I see Lisa’s eyes looking at someone behind me. She sort of takes a small step back and raises her hands.

  I turn around… and standing there, flanked by the two goons who had been beating my face into a pulp, is Mike Malone.

  He’s hunched over, he’s bleeding. Nasty cut to his forehead.

  He’s hurt bad but he’s smiling and laughing. “You’re so damn smart, Zoe. You’re so damn clever. But I guess you’re starting to slip. I guess retirement is making you sloppy.”

  I don’t know how he found us, so soon. So quickly.

  Were we followed?

  No.

  We were careful.

  We stuck to the deep tunnels and the back alleys. We stuck to the shadows.

  How the hell did he find us so quickly?

  He sees the surprise all over my face and he says, “Yeah, you’re starting to slip, Zoe. You forgot to take care of Angel’s tracking device.”

  The look on Angel’s face says she didn’t know about it. But I should’ve.

  I should’ve known.

  Damn. I fucked up. This is all my fault.

  This is all my fault.

  Stupid. So fucking stupid.

  One of the goons steps forward and lines me up with his right fist, he puts his full weight behind it, his hips, his shoulders. I try and do something… anything. I make a grab for the knife, but then a fist connects with the side of my jaw and I think I hear a crack.

  I fall back and hit my head on the counter. My legs go weak, my legs turn to mush and I’m lying on the floor, lying on my side looking up at everyone else. And the world is spinning faster and faster and out of control.

  I’ve been so fucking stupid.

  I have fucked up completely.

  Royally.

  And this is all my fault.

  All.

  My.

  Fault.

  Chapter 17

  Things go downhill quickly. Things go downhill real fucking fast.

  I’m vaguely aware that I’m being dragged through Lisa’s bar, dragged through train carriage after train carriage. And then we’re back in the tunnels and it’s dark as hell and I can hear screams and other weird noises echoing from the depths of the tunnels, from the Eternal Darkness.

  I’m on my knees now, surrounded by a small party of people.

  Mike Malone.

  His two goons.

  Tommy Two Scars.

  Tommy’s entire head and neck is in a brace and maybe his jaw is wired shut because I got a little carried away before.

  The two goons have a hold of Angel.

  And I can’t believe I led these bastards to her, to us.

  Can’t believe I was so stupid.

  Can’t believe this is all my fault…

  Can’t believe Mike Malone has the upper hand.

  How? How the fuck did this happen?

  My own stupidity, that’s how. So fucking stupid. I wasn’t thinking.

  Wasn’t thinking.

  I led them straight here.

  My stupidity.

  Thoughts and frustrations shoot into my mind. Sharp and broken. Can’t think straight. Can’t think.

  Need to think.

  Need to figure this out.

  Mike speaks into his radio. “It’s me. Get the Magician. I’ve got a girl he needs to make disappear. No, she’s alive. For the moment.”

  I’m kneeling down in front of two Sunspeeders. Someone turns the headlights on high beam and I’m partially blinded by the light. I make the mistake of looking directly at them.

  “You like these Sunspeeders, Zoe?” Mike asks. “You could’ve had one, you know? You could’ve had so many things.”

  Now that the headlights are on, I can see a body. An Enforcer. Not too far from where I’m kneeling.

  Long dead.

  A massive pool of dried blood under the body.

  Mike sees it as well. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll be cleaning up Hector’s mess for weeks. These poor bastards really had no idea what they were up against. We tried to warn them, but they didn’t want to hear it. Arrogant fuckers.”

  “You know what they say,” Tommy chimes in. “Pride cometh before the fall.”

  “Who says that?” Mike asks. “Who has ever said that?”

  “People say it,” Tommy says, defending his words. “And it’s obviously true.” He points at the Enforcer to highlight his point.

  I guess Tommy’s jaw isn’t wired shut after all.

  The goons are tying Angel’s hands together. Her feet. They put a gag in her mouth.

  “Typical of Wonderland, really,” Tommy says. “These bastards come in here and they think they own the joint. Think they know better than us. I mean sure, they pay well…”

  Mike is largely ignoring Tommy’s rant.

  He takes out a pen from his top pocket. Except it’s not a pen. He presses it against the side of his neck and pushes a button, giving himself a shot of something, of god knows what.

  He sees me staring. “Another perk of playing the game, Zoe. You were right about what you said before. You were pretty angry, pretty steamed about how it was all going down. No one likes getting sucker punched from behind, especially from a goddamn Overseer. I thought you actually took it pretty well. I guess it’s because you’re tougher than you look. What was I saying? Oh yeah, this…” he says, holding the pen, the hypodermic needle. “This is a perk from Wonderland. And you were right when you called me a vampire. I mean… I’m not actually a vampire. I don’t suck down people’s blood. But I am old. I am very old. You ever seen a veteran of the Last Great War in such great shape? Of course you haven’t. Most of them are dead. The rest of them are in wheelchairs. But me and a few of the other guys, we’re getting looked after by Wonderland for our services. Whatever they put in this stuff is quite simply amazing. It is a marvel of scientific advancement. I think they’re genetically enhanced blood cells, or some other wizardry. Could be magic. Could be voodoo.”

  I knew it. I fucking knew it. Mike Malone… he’s too old.

  Too goddamn old.

  “What happens if you stop taking that stuff?” I ask.

  “If I stop taking this then nature will take its course. I’ll die of old age. But I’m not going to stop taking this. I’ve got plans. Big plans. I’ve got a place lined up in Wonderland. Going to make it to the Arks. And I’ve got big plans for Angel here. And big plans for you. Your body is going to be displayed in the city center, hung up for all to see. How do you like that? You thought you could get away, thought you could save Angel and save the day. But you screwed up. I told you. I warned you. You can’t run. You can’t hide. And don’t worry, we know it was Edgar Ramirez who helped you escape. We will deal with him shortly.”

  They put Angel in the back of one of the Sunspeeders. Mike gets in the passenger seat and one of the goons gets in the driver’s seat.

  Mike sticks his head
out of the passenger side window. “Move her out of the way, will ya? Don’t want to run her over. I want the people to see her perfect naked body hanging high above the streets, decomposing and rotting.”

  The other goon grabs me by the hair and drags me out of the way, dumping me right on top of the dead Enforcer. I get the feeling that this is a kind of message. I get the feeling that he is saying to me, “I’m putting you here, dumping you right on top of a dead body because that’s what you are. You are dead.”

  The Sunspeeder and Mike Malone and his trusted goon speed off with Angel tied up in the back. They drive away from Lisa’s bar, towards the Eternal Dark. I see them turn off into a side tunnel as they make their way into the labyrinth of the deep, to the edges of the Buried City.

  I’m breathing hard and my pulse is racing and I’m about to get to my feet, because, I mean, if they’re going to kill me, if they’re going to slit my throat, or put a bullet in my head, then I want to take it standing. I want to face my executioners.

  So I’m about to stand up.

  And Tommy Two Scars and the goon are arguing about who gets to do it. Who gets to slit my throat?

  Do they take their time first?

  Do they have a party?

  “Mike said to do it quickly…”

  “Mike won’t ever find out…”

  And as I’m trying to stand up, I find something beautiful. Something amazing. Strapped to the hip of the dead Enforcer is one of the most beautiful weapons I’ve ever seen.

  It is a knife.

  A small flick knife. Strapped to his belt.

  I quickly grab it, flicking the blade out and concealing it in the palm of my hand.

  The goon grabs me by the hair again, picking me up.

  And now I’m on my feet and I turn around in one motion, slicing his wrist. He immediately lets go of my hair.

  He yells out in pain and in shock. And he says, “What the fuck?”

  He wasn’t expecting that.

  And while he’s in shock, I step forward, running the small blade into his throat. His mouth is open and he wants to scream but he can’t. I slide the blade out, and blood follows, spurting out in a long arc.

  Tommy can’t believe it.

  He reaches for his gun but he is too slow.

  I throw the knife at his head and the blade sticks in his eye.