The SciFi Triple Pack

by Adam Drake

  “I don't know about you, but I've had enough gunplay for one night.”

  Martin laughed. “I dunno. I think I can take out a few more for you if you wanted.”

  Nate smiled. Yeah, this one is a keeper, that's for sure. “We best put some distance between us and this little mess we created. Grab all these guns and whatever else might be useful. I'll go back and get Orson's and the other weapons.”

  After a few minutes they collected seven guns and four pistols along with lots of extra ammo. Nate made a point of taking the money out of all their wallets, too. You never know.

  Martin looked down at all the weaponry in the wheel-barrel. “Think this will help with our empire?”

  Our empire? Nate thought. He let it slide. “Not even close. Not without trusted hands that can hold them.” He nodded to a small satchel at Martin's feet. “What's that?”

  “This here was under that first guy you blew away,” Martin said, opening it. It was full of torches.

  “Nice,” Nate said. “These guys got their shit together fast. Made these torches when they realized there's no other means of light.”

  “And now they're ours,” Martin said, placing the satchel into the wheel-barrel. Then he picked the wheel-barrel up by its handles. “Where to, boss?”

  Nate picked up the lantern which Martin had refilled from a small canister. He had decided to carry the AK-47 Orson had tried to kill him with and slung the shotgun under his jacket. “We need to find a place to hang out for a while, until morning. Maybe longer. Do you know this area at all?”

  “Nope, I just come here to make deliveries. Or I used to. No more of that crap.”

  Nate let him revel in his perceived freedom. “Let's walk and see what we can see. Maybe an opportunity will present itself.”

  They crossed the parking lot and away from the burning bar.

  “I saw a bicycle back there. That yours?” Martin asked as he huffed along.

  “It was a gift from a stranger.”

  “You could ride it,” Martin said. “I don't mind.”

  Nate nearly laughed out loud at that. Instead, he said, “Nah, no more bikes for me.” Soon, if I wanted to go somewhere I'll have someone carry me, he thought with a smile.

  They left Spectacular's parking lot and moved into the street. On a whim, Nate turned them northward, and they kept walking. This led past the front of the burning apartment building. Some people were here, clustered on the opposite side of the road, staring mournfully at their burning homes. When they saw Nate and Martin coming most backed away or simply turned and fled.

  “Our fireworks got them spooked,” Martin said.

  As they walked by, Nate felt that invigorating surge return. Here he was walking down the street armed to the teeth and not giving a damn what anyone thought. What could they do about him?

  Martin must have felt something too because he stuck out his chest and sneered at anyone they passed.

  “This is definitely a new era we're entering into, boss,” Martin said after several streets. There were stranded cars everywhere, but none with drivers. Everyone must have decided to trek home before it got too dark.

  “Yup,” Nate said. “I'm liking how it's starting out so far.”

  They laughed.

  “Hey, what's that?” Martin said, nodding his head further down the street.

  A strange light was bobbing along on the sidewalk in their direction.

  “I have no idea,” Nate said. They stopped and waited to see what the deal was.

  As the strange light got closer, they could see it was two young women walking toward them. In their hands they each clutched a large batch of glow-sticks which gave off just enough illumination to see where they were going.

  The two girls noticed the weaponry in the wheel-barrel and the AK Nate carried. They stopped, stunned.

  “Hello, ladies,” Nate said as he approached them. Martin put down his burden and followed.

  “Hello,” one of the women said, a blonde.

  “Whatcha got there?” Nate asked about the sticks.

  “These are party sticks. We use them at clubs, but realized they'd do well at night since everything doesn't work anymore.”

  Nate chuckled. “Well, isn't that clever,” he said, inspecting the sticks closely. There were several colors and gave off a dreamy neon glow. “Better than nothing, huh?”

  The other girl, a brunette, giggled nervously. She was also carrying a paper bag full of groceries.

  “Whatcha got there?”

  The brunette giggled again, a sound Nate didn't find very attractive, then she said, “We got these from the store up the street.”

  “How the hell did you pay for them?”

  “Cash.”

  Nate laughed. “Of course, the good old-fashioned way.”

  Encouraged by Nate's demeanor the brunette said, “Yeah, the cashier had to add it up on a piece of paper and everything. Wasn't too hard.”

  “My friend and I are a little hungry. Got anything in there worth sharing?” Nate added just a hint of menace to his words.

  The women stood paralyzed for a few moments, then the blonde said, “Sure. We got chips and coke.”

  “I'm starving,” Martin said, but his eyes were not on the food.

  The women looked at him fearfully.

  “Care to share?” Nate said.

  “Sure,” the blonde said. Hastily, the women empty the bag and handed over the food.

  Martin cracked open a can and guzzled the contents down in several long swallows. Then he tossed the can onto the street where it clattered and rolled away.

  “My friend here has worked up quite the thirst,” Nate said.

  Martin burped loudly then ripped open a chip bag. He began devouring them in large handfuls.

  Nate did the same, but with a more civil approach, sipping from his can and eating chips one at a time.

  The women watched them, wide eyed and apprehensive. Eventually, the blonde worked up the courage to speak. “Well, we got to be going now. Our friends are waiting. Glad we could help you out.”

  As they started to move away, Nate casually lifted up his AK. The girls stopped. “No need to go just yet,” he said around a mouthful chips. “Where are you two going, anyway?”

  “Home,” the blonde said.

  “How far?”

  The answer took several moments in coming. “About four blocks from here.”

  “You live with your friends?”

  “Yeah, we share a house together.”

  “How many?”

  Another long pause. “Five of us. Why?”

  “Just wanted to know who I'll be meeting, is all.” He motioned with is AK for them to start walking. “Why don't you take us to your friends. We'll make sure we don't eat all their chips.”

  Now petrified, the women could do nothing other than what they were told. They continued on down the sidewalk, this time with Nate behind them, munching chips. Martin followed along on the street, pushing the wheel-barrel.

  They passed houses where people huddle outside around makeshift fires or inside with candles. Anyone who saw them zeroed in on Nate and Martin and then vanished from view.

  If the women were hoping someone might intervene on their behalf, they were wrong.

  Eventually they arrived at a cute two-story house. In the small front yard, three people were sitting around a large mound of glow-sticks talking and laughing.

  Nate looked them over. Two red-headed babes and a gawky looking guy.

  As they got closer, the people looked in their direction. Their expressions morphed into concern once they noticed Nate's AK.

  Nate's group walked up onto the yard. “Howdy,” he said, cheerfully.

  The others stood up, the two red-heads clutching at each other. The blonde and brunette ran over to them.

  “These guys took our food!” the brunette said. “I think they want to rob us.”

  “No, there will be no robbing,” Nate said with a smile. “You're too
pretty for that.”

  The gawky guy walked up to Nate despite his weapon. “You guys need to leave. You're not welcome here.”

  Nate couldn't tell if this guy was brave or stupid. He settled on stupid. “Now that's not very friendly of you, is it? My friend and I need a place to hang out for a while. We thought we'd crash at your place. Your house is big enough.”

  The guy put up a blustering front, probably to impress the girls. “I said you're not welcome here. Leave.”

  “No,” Nate said.

  Shaking with agitation the guy said, “Who the hell do you think you are, fucker?”

  “Who do I think I am?” Nate asked.

  He shot the guy with a single burst from the AK, nearly cutting him in half. The women screamed in terror.

  Nate looked them all over and smiled.

  “Why... I'm your new king.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Wyatt

  “Are we there, yet?” Wyatt said.

  They had been walking for what seemed like hours, but Wyatt couldn't be sure. Time had lost all meaning once the entrance to the tunnel vanished from view.

  “Almost,” Ethan said. He held the lantern high, its bright light creating glittery stars across the river next to them.

  “You haven't said anything in ages,” Wyatt said, casting his dead friend a suspicious look. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” Ethan said. “If anything, you are the one that is up to something. I'm just helping you along.”

  “Okay, whatever,” Wyatt said. The syrupy feeling that had enveloped him early was gone. Now his mind was free to dance around all sorts of crazy thoughts. “You were always evasive, you know that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I'm saying. You never shared with me your past or anything you were thinking beyond the next dumpster. Even after all these years.”

  Ethan scoffed. “I need secrets, too, you know. You can't corner the market on that. Other people have things they don't want to talk about, either.”

  “You're avoiding the question.”

  “No, I'm not. I'm choosing not to answer it, that's all.”

  They walked on in silence for a while. The tunnel did not vary in direction one degree, just a straight line. Nor did it dip downward, for which Wyatt was actually grateful for. He was hoping to get out of this place soon enough.

  “My arms hurt,” Wyatt said for the twentieth time.

  “And you know I can't do anything to help with that,” Ethan said. “We'll get those restraints off when we find some help.”

  “Is that what we're doing? Finding help? I thought we were looking for answers to questions, or some such nonsense.”

  Ethan didn't respond, only kept moving forward. Wyatt had little choice but to follow along.

  After a while, Ethan said, “I was an accountant.”

  Wyatt was poleaxed by this revelation. “No way! A numbers guy?”

  Ethan nodded.

  Wyatt shook his head. “That's amazing. You never struck me as the office type.”

  Ethan scoffed. “An office is its own kind of dumpster, believe-you-me. But if I had a choice between running reports all night in time for the month end cash flow or rolling around in garbage, I'd take the garbage option every time.”

  Wyatt walked along in stunned silence. Then he said, “How much did you make?”

  “Salary? More than cans and bottles.”

  “No, seriously.”

  Ethan was quiet a moment, then said, “Six figures a year. Not including bonuses.”

  Wyatt laughed, looking at his friend in unabashed amazement. “I don't believe it. Six God-damned figures a year. And now you're... you're... uh.”

  “Dead?” Ethan finished for him.

  “Yeah, dead. Sorry about that.”

  “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. What happened, happened. There's no going back.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Yeah, but if I had handled those Feral Kids differently, maybe things would have turned out another way.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, it wouldn't have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ethan stopped, catching Wyatt off guard for a second and nearly causing him to fall into the river.

  “Whoa, hey!” Wyatt said. The river raged by, the lantern light creating silver serpents across its surface.

  “Things were not meant to turn out differently,” Ethan said, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's. “They happened the way they were intended to.”

  “I don't get it,” Wyatt said. He could feel the drying blood from his wrists on the small of his back, thick and sticky.

  Ethan sighed, closing his eyes.

  Wyatt waited, not sure what his friend was up to.

  Ethan opened his eyes and looked at Wyatt. “If I hadn't had died then I wouldn't have been in any position to guide you. We would still be out there jumping into dumpsters and counting pennies.”

  “There's nothing wrong with that. Dumpster diving, I mean.”

  “No, but you were meant for more than that and you know it.”

  Wyatt mulled that over. “About that. What's with me dipping in and out of... I don't know how you would describe it...”

  “Crazy?”

  “Yeah, crazy. Why is that happening? It never happened before.”

  “That you remember.”

  This just confused Wyatt more. “Now I'm all turned around. You mean I've slipped into crazy-town before? Before today?”

  Ethan watched his friend, the lantern mading his eyes appear like black pits. “Yes, Wyatt. You have. Many times. Now, can we continue on? We're almost there.”

  He continued walking, but it was the last sentence that snagged Wyatt's attention. “We're almost out of here? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know? How do you know any of this?”

  “You want to know the secret as to how I know we're almost out of here?”

  “Yeah, tell me.”

  Ethan pointed. “Because there's the exit up ahead.”

  Wyatt looked. Sure enough, the tunnel ended a short distance away. Somewhere beyond it, an orange glow highlighted the exit's shape.

  “Oh, thank God!” Wyatt said, and picked up the pace. Ethan trailed along.

  Wyatt ran past the lantern's light radius.

  “Be careful, Wyatt. Don't fall into the river, again. You definitely wouldn't survive it a second time.”

  Wyatt ignored him and rushed ahead, his panting breath loud in his ears, canceling out the roaring of the river.

  Soon he stood at the tunnel terminus. The river dropped here and rushed down into the darkness of the world outside. To one side, there was a wide concrete plateau which revealed a dry spillway. Beyond that, he could see tall buildings, dark against the starry sky.

  A large campfire was in the middle of the spillway. A figure sat next to it.

  “We're out!” Wyatt said, and turned to Ethan.

  Only Ethan wasn't there. Nor was his lantern light. Just pitch darkness and the sound of the river within.

  “Ethan?” he said, looking around. “Where the hell did you go, now?”

  Ethan didn't reappear.

  Frustrated, Wyatt navigated his way down to the spillway toward the campfire. As he got closer, the figure became more familiar.

  At the edge of the fire's light, Wyatt stopped in amazement. “Baldy?”

  The figure turned and looked at him in surprise.

  “W-Wyatt?” Baldy exclaimed. He got up and ran over to Wyatt. “Are you o-okay? You look like complete sh-sh-sh-.”

  “Shit, yes, Baldy, I do, and I feel it.”

  Baldy guided Wyatt over to the fire, a huge grin on his face. “B-boy it's real g-good to see you. I've b-been worried.”

  Wyatt plopped down next to the fire, getting as close to its warmth as he dared. “Worried? Why? Last time I saw you we were making our rounds.” That seemed like a lifetime ago, instead of a single day.
<
br />   Baldy looked at Wyatt like he was nuts. He raised his arms and said, “The world has g-gone crazy, Wyatt. E-everyone's freaking out ab-about the power. I thought something might have h-happened to you and Ethan.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Oh, that. Nothing to worry about.” He didn't want to talk about Ethan right that very moment. “Hey, you got a knife or some scissors?”

  Baldy blinked in confusion then pulled out a huge butcher knife from a side pocket. “L-like this?”

  Ethan's worries about Baldy being a mass murderer played through Wyatt's mind. “Uh, yeah. Mind cutting these damned restraints off my arms for me?”

  Baldy lit up like a child on christmas morning. “S-sure, lemme get 'em for you.”

  As Baldy sawed at the restraints, Wyatt tried not to let himself get too worried. He doubted Baldy was a mass murderer. Or, at least for the next few moments he wasn't.

  There was an audible snip from behind Wyatt and suddenly his hands were free. “Oh, thank God!” Wyatt said as he rubbed at his arms. They were cold and numb.

  Baldy moved to the fire, smiling like a fool. “Want some c-coffee. Just made it.”

  “Hell, yeah!” Wyatt said as he examined the wounds on his wrists. The restraints had really cut into him.

  Baldy handed him a tin cup full of piping hot coffee. Wyatt sipped at it eagerly.

  “Baldy, this is the best coffee I've ever had. Thank you.”

  “R-really?”

  “Yup,” Wyatt said, drinking. Soon his gaze sank into the fire.

  After a time, Baldy started to get worried. “Are you okay, W-Wyatt? Your f-face looks kinda f-funny.”

  That syrupy feeling had arrived again and washed over Wyatt like a slow tsunami. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine.”

  After a few moments, Baldy asked. “Whatcha th-thinking about?”

  “Oh, my new job. I figured it out now. What it is.”

  “Yeah? Wh-what's your job?”

  When Wyatt looked to Baldy, Baldy couldn't be certain the face he saw was Wyatt's at all.

  “My job?” Wyatt said, his voice hollow and distant.

  “My new job is to save the world.”

  To Be Continued