by Ben Archer
“I have that effect on people, Mr…?”
“Forgive me. My name is Silas, but most call me the Keeper.”
Chapter 26: Heat wave
I’m no scholar, but then again it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s the leader of this merry band of assholes. And it seems that, somehow, everyone is a part of his silent army. It’s clear these people are not the trained killers from the glass castle. Most of these folks are ancient and out of shape. Alone, they would stand no chance against me. Which is probably why there are hundreds of them.
They’re literally standing shoulder to shoulder to form an impenetrable wall of flesh and bone. And right in the very center is kindly ol’ Rita. My heart breaks at the sight of the syrupy sweet grandma waiting with fangs out.
My monster instinctively scans the group to find a weak spot. “Now Mr. Flynn, you’re not thinking of leaving us are you? I can assure you that my Harbingers will not let that happen.” Keeper demands. “You caused quite a ruckus over in Gas Light didn’t you?” His tone is almost approving. “Lots of fire and carnage from what I hear. A bit flashy for my tastes, overall though, I must say well done. There was even talk of converting you after that little show; however, I convinced them it would only delay the inevitable ending of your story. As it shall be for all nonbelievers, where we go only death follows.”
Well, he doesn’t mess around. No flowers, no chocolates, no foreplay, just straight down to the filthy business. Although it is funny to hear this random group of oldness described as “Harbingers of Death.”
“I really don’t think…” I begin until he interrupts.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I know your type Mr. Flynn. You’re all mouth to compensate for a terribly delicate ego. For some reason you delusionally believe you’re unique or special in some way. Maybe Mommy told you that you were her special boy and you believed her a little too much. I promise you, I’ve met thousands like you, and each one ends up on their knees. Sometimes I’ll even let them walk away before slitting their throat, but not you Mr. Flynn. I want you to see it coming. I want you to know all you’ve accomplished is becoming another stain on this filthy floor.”
Damn.
This guy’s a dick.
The circle of obedient people tightens with a quick wave of his gnarled finger. Well, let’s not waste any more time since it appears words won’t be getting me out of this. That doesn’t stop me from giving him a smirk while securing a tight grip around Quinn. Then I lock eyes with the revolting man, grin a little bit wider, and hurl a chair straight up through the glass ceiling. The metal legs burst through the clear dome, sending a razor-sharp downpour over the surprised room.
Before the first shards of deadly hail can arrive, I yank Quinn underneath the nearest poker table I can find. From our crouched position we hear the screams, see blood collecting on the floor, and smell fresh air wafting in through the newly opened hole in the roof.
We have to patiently wait for the man-made hailstorm to pass before attempting any kind of escape of our own. But as soon as the last piece lands, we’re already on top of the large central chandelier. From there it’s only a short leap up through our brand new ceiling exit.
The echo of hundreds of revenge-hungry feet pound the battered rooftop behind us. They form an unrelenting wave that sweeps from building to building along with us. The tenacious pursuit matches us down to the rhythm of each frantic step. No matter where we go, there they are. In my head outrunning the thundering mob was going to be child’s play. They’re a bunch of old people right? In reality they have a clear advantage no one saw coming ─they don’t seem to care if they live or die. Like, at all. They tumble out of the air, get thrown over buildings, and gladly get trampled under the mob without any reaction at all. They merely die without ever making a sound.
Quinn doesn’t seem to notice any of this. She’s still running full speed ahead, while I’ve slowed just enough to put some obstacles in their way. I start by tossing a medium sized billboard into the front of the overly persistent hoard. It successfully knocks a few out of the chase, but as one falls, two take their place. I try throwing more and the same thing happens, the wave simply absorbs it, and continues on. It seems the only thing I’ve accomplished is allowing them to catch up. Their feet are already crunching the pebbles right behind me. They continue nipping at my heels all the way to the edge of the building. Maybe I can lose them in the jump?
Nope.
A stray hand clamps around my ankle midair and sends us both spilling out onto the next rooftop. I glance at the attached man to find the only real threat he poses is in lost time. One solid boot heel is all it takes to send him flying back into his friends. The small fish crashes into the big wave right at the peak, causing a chain reaction of falling bodies between buildings. Hundreds of them spill over the edge like a tilted cup.
The victory is, unfortunately, a short lived one. I only get to enjoy it for a very brief moment because the mob’s already swelling for another jump. Plus, Quinn is almost completely out of sight now and I’m totally clueless on how to catch up! Motivation certainly isn’t the issue; I’m literally running for my life, but she’s just so much faster than me!
She runs like a graceful sledgehammer. Leaving behind a trail of shattered concrete that cuts straight across the entire city. I can’t even run the same path as her because of all the wreckage. Large chunks of brick and broken glass cover everything she’s touched. I’m in the tricky position of having to close our gap, while making sure I don’t slip on any of her slippery wreckage!
I decide my best option might be a shortcut when she starts chewing up the side of a particularly tall building. Instead of going over the building, I’ll go through it!
It’s such a spontaneous plan that I almost forget to cover my face on the way. It’s not until the very last second that I remember to fold into a loose cannonball to help protect myself from the window at the end of the jump. My knees dissolve the pane of glass into jagged diamonds on impact. The accompanying explosion pulls all the little shards, along with me, into the new room.
My body ricochets off several blurry objects before coming to rest in the middle of a very hard, hardwood table. Judging by the sloppy pile of mashed potatoes under my elbow, I’ve interrupted dinner service at (what used to be) a very nice restaurant. This crowd is obviously not the same as the one chasing us. They seem far more concerned about saving their own asses, than beating mine.
The smell of perfectly cooked steak tempts me to swing by the kitchen on the way out, except doing so would defeat the entire purpose of this detour. Not to mention result in my brutal murder at the wrinkled hands of old Rita. Who I’m wildly disappointed in… She must be far less caring and grandmotherly than I was lead to believe.
No, I stay focused so that I reach the exit just as the herd explodes through the remaining windows. The good news is that the cramped room is far more effective than I could ever be against the crowd. I don’t have to do anything more than watch them trip over tables, chairs, and each other. I could enjoy this with a big bag of popcorn if I didn’t have a Quinn to catch up to. I decide to settle for one last peek at the chaos, then return to trying to find the nearest exit.
Two long hallways and one cheap wooden door later, I’m just in time to catch Quinn leaping across the gap. My timing couldn’t have been better! Not wanting to miss the moment, I quickly hurl myself through another window and pray it will be my last.
The glass wall quickly melts away, leaving me surrounded by nothing but clear blue sky. Being out here, disconnected from the world, is a rush that’s equal parts ecstasy and pants-filling terror. That is until I join Quinn for a moment that feels more like destiny than luck. Gliding along, side by side over the crisp Vegas skyline, fills me such unshakable confidence that it deserves an epic soundtrack. How cool would the restaurant have been with loud music pumping over it? Imagine perfectly choreographed parkouring over tables AND people, with the bad guys charging
in behind me. Slow motion of scattering debris and then, just as I reach the climactic window, BOOM! The world goes dead silent.
Only shattering glass, rushing wind, and an awesome quip can be heard as the brave hero meets up with his long-lost partner. Instead, “Good to see ya!!” comes rattling out in an almost Irish accent. What the balls was that? This was my one chance at an epic one-liner, and that was the best I could do? If this ever reaches movie theaters, change that line!
Tormenting myself over the blown quip actually allows for a brief moment of blissful ignorance. One that lets me almost forget about the massive horde trying to kill us. Almost.
But then I’m sucked back to reality by a rapidly approaching wall of curved glass. This means two things:
1) Our pursuit has taken us across the entire city.
2) The end of the dome is here.
Number two is the most important since it also means we’ve come to the literal edge of our world.
Quinn instantly vaults over the edge of a slanted rooftop. This time I follow without hesitation. I watch as her personal assault on the property of New Vegas continues by digging her hands into a previously smooth wall. This allows her to slow her fall, so I grab the same concrete she’s already softened up for me. The entire drop becomes a delicate balancing act between trying not to lose grip (and fall off) or slam into the wall (and be impaled on jagged bricks).
But it works. We eventually make it all the way back down to solid ground. Even then there’s not enough time to wipe off bleeding hands, or take a short breath, before we’re hit with another wave of maniacs. It’s starting to feel like we’re trapped in a never-ending game of whack-a-mole. We knock a few down, dozens more pop back up.
The major issue is that all the hysteria is making it impossible to tell who the real villains are. You don’t know who’s trying to kill you until they’re already doing so. Some of these people are barely teenagers! They shouldn’t even be home from school yet, let alone out here trying to kill me!
But the longer it goes on, the more I realize it might be them, trapped in here with Quinn. There’s an unnerving beauty to her violence. Take away all the other people and she could be dancing the most stunning, elegant ballet ever seen. The never-ending onslaught doesn’t allow us any kind of second guessing or hesitation. We both have to rely on feral instincts that are just as vicious, as they are necessary. She leads the way, tearing through the crowd with the same tenacity and precision as back in the Gas Light district. As we battle, side by side through the swarm of zealots, I can’t help but feel that this is where I’m supposed to be. For better or worse, however this ends, everything in my life has led to this.
Chapter 27: The Mighty Fall
We don’t have the numbers, but we have twice the heart. Yet the wave continually crashes no matter how many times we beat it back. Mostly by luck, we eventually find ourselves at the entrance to the railway system below. It’s not a great option, though it’s gotta be better than the wide open street fight up here.
Quinn leaps down the stairs with the grace of a jungle cat. Her smooth stride is fluid and every attacker is pushed aside with an effortless ease. She’s a mother tiger playfully pushing her cubs around. The only difference is when she pushes-- they become craters in the subway wall. Her agile dance continues all the way down into the belly of the mechanical city. Surprisingly, the lower levels are almost vacant. There are a few random people here or there, but nothing like the ant colony above. Rows of electronic booths are set up to buy tickets, except there are no damn trains! And peeking down the tracks reveals that none are on their way either!
No buses.
No taxis.
Nothing that will help us escape the pounding footsteps growing louder by the minute. Strong voices boom off the tight tunnels right around the corner. “Ok now, hear me out.” I explain in the most rational voice possible. Maybe she’ll agree if I don’t sound too crazy. Although, if her wide-eyed desperation is any indication, she’ll go along with just about anything right now.
“Jump on my back.” The growing stampede and lack of better options convinces her not to argue. I immediately rip a metal “no pets allowed” sign out of the concrete ground. The thick post is then bent into a large U shape that should hold both of us. Quinn stares, still clueless, but trusting enough to climb onto my shoulders. I warn her to hold on extremely tight, before leaping blindly onto the empty track.
Both of us scream as the bent pole wraps over the metal rail. The force of our landing propels us down the tunnel much slower than I had originally anticipated. We have to kick our legs just to scoot down the almost flat railing. Soon, our momentum picks up enough steam to release a banshee wail of metal on metal grinding. That’s when our gentle slide becomes more of a moderate slope. Then the walls disappear and everything goes right to crap. With the tunnel walls gone, we’re left dangling in the great wide open with only clouds under our feet. I won’t lie, I’m pretty sure I just shit myself.
The only relief comes from Quinn burying her nails in my sides. Normally that wouldn’t be such a great thing, but it’s a very welcome distraction from the vast expanse of nothing underneath us. Even worse is when our ride takes an abrupt turn towards the ground… that’s when we find out that this is not one of the many, many railways leading around the city. Nope, my luck has landed us on a one-way trip all the way back to the ground!
Plunging down the steep hill isn’t like riding the biggest rollercoaster on Earth, it’s like hanging on to it by the wheels. Our runaway train is picking up speed by the second, and there’s not single a damn thing I can do about it. All the friction is shooting a ruffled rooster tail of sparks behind us.
Within seconds we’ve hit the wall of puffy white blindness known as clouds. As soon as we enter, the temperature nosedives, and starts biting at every piece of exposed skin it can find. The soupy, dense, frozen clouds are a stark contrast to the glowing hunk of metal in my hands. The signpost is radiating a burning orange color that’s the only thing still visible in the suffocating blizzard.
As proof that it could always be worse, the end of the clouds eventually arrives. Waiting on the other side is what could only be described as complete and absolute horribleness. At this speed it’s like going from completely blind, to being able to see in every direction (including straight down) for miles. At this speed the giant mountains and unending sand have blended into one infinite sheet of tan.
As if that weren’t enough, we actually have a more pressing problem ahead of us. Actually, directly ahead of us is a small taxi leisurely moving down the one-way track. It’s so close, and so slow, that I don’t even have a chance to come up with a curse word strong enough to describe my feelings, before we’re buried into the back of it.
The brutal collision hurls me all the way across the tiny car. My only detour is to bounce off several hard seats, before smashing through the front windshield. It’s not until reaching the very edge of the short hood that my hand finally finds something sturdy enough to keep me from going all the way over. The wild ride has left me buried up to the bloody elbow in shredded metal, but alive.
Although that may just be a temporary condition… only that one wedged arm and a small sliver of my upper chest is anywhere close to still touching the car. The rest is dangling perilously far out over the hood.
My heart is beating so hard that it actually lifts me away from the crumpled hood. And for some reason my feet won’t stop kicking as if there were something down below, other than clouds, to grab on to. The adrenaline also inspires an endless string of urine-soaked expletives to spew out of my panicked mouth. Some are real words, but most are just random sounds that are only meant to relieve my over-flowing fear.
My free hand is desperately reaching to find additional grip, but only coats everything in more of the slippery blood. They’re leaving behind slimy red prints that make finding any kind of real security virtually impossible. I’m at the mercy of one weary arm, and its fading fast.
A feverish panic sets in. Not the kind that will add additional strength or motivation either. No, this one drains the last bit of life from already tired muscles, and spins the world on its head. The car groans as one of the clamps holding it to the track gives out. The unexpected lunge dislodges the wedged hand, flinging me to the other side of the hood. My monster manages to find a piece of the windshield frame before I tumble the rest of the way off. While that may sound like a good thing, my new grip consists mostly of broken glass and twisted metal.
The agony of holding on to such a torturous thing gradually releases each finger one by one. When all but two have slipped off, at the very peak of my torment, comes last second salvation in the form of a fleshy vice grip around my failing wrist. An unmistakable voice says, “I’ve got you.” Her usually soft voice is filled with a new air of confidence. My head flops back to see Quinn leaning out of the car above. The sun glistens off the track steel behind her. It spreads like wings around the glowing girl. While I may not believe in angels, I believe in her.
Another failed support rocks the taxi just as she pulls me in from the abyss. The jolt slings Quinn into a few of the angry passengers. I end up stumbling forward into the driver’s lap. By my count there are six other people in here besides us. Three of them were knocked out, the others are up moving around the cabin. The driver is one of the unconscious one’s, but since the car is falling off the track, he wouldn’t have been much help anyway.
“Snap” goes another support.
And another.
Each new break is causing the car to scream down the track faster. There’s a shrill scraping sound (like spoons in a meat grinder) that comes with it. Plus the entire car has dropped to a pretty severe angle now, so everything is trying to fall out the busted windows; including people. Quinn snatches up a few and the rest tumble into a sloppy pile on top of me. There’s not much else to do except pray this bucket can hang on long enough to reach the station.