Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors (26 page)

“You hadn’t started.”

“Am I an arrow or a fireman?”

“Fire-person!”

“Whatever.”

Logan snapped the cue pool cue over his knee. The crack bounced off the walls and silenced the crowd. “Just get to your positions.”

The town hall barn emptied. Logan took the lead and scaled a fabricated ladder to the outer wall of the town with ease. The people followed. Some hesitated. Others stayed close to Logan.

The citizen soldiers grabbed tie-rod crossbows, shouldered rifles, or manned flamethrower turrets. Medics took position in doorways, ready to run to the aid of the fallen. Logan jumped from his perch to the roof of the cement truck as it rolled into place.

Carl stepped from the cab.

“Gadgeteer,” Logan yelled down to the small round man.

The town’s gadget man looked up and smiled at hearing this. He gave Logan an enthusiastic thumbs up and an air fist bump. Logan held out his hand.

Carl threw an air high five. Logan stomped his foot on the hood, “It means throw me the keys, you idiot.”

Carl was surprised at the outburst, but obediently dug into his pocket and tossed the keys to Logan.

The warrior grabbed them out of the air and stepped back onto the ledge that surrounded the wall. Pacing, his pistol in hand, he spoke to the people below him.

He turned his back to the wasteland and did his best to prepare the people for the coming horror.
 

“Remember,” he shouted to the town. “The truck is most likely armored. Do not fire at the truck. Its walls are impenetrable. You must wait for the men to disembark.”

“It doesn’t look that armored,” a woman holding a crossbow argued.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“It looks like it’s about to fall apart,” an older man said.

“He said it was huge. It’s not that big.” This began a chorus of doubt that moved up and down the walls.

“There can’t be more than a few men in there.”

“Is that a Winnebago?”

“I don’t see the W.”

“I don’t think they all have Ws.”

Logan turned to see a cloud of dust approaching.

“Bookworm?” he said under his breath. He yelled to the crowd, “Hold your fire. It’s not them.”

“How is that thing holding together?” The crowd continued to chatter as the motor coach pulled up to the gates of the town.

“Bookworm?” Logan shouted to the coach. With the windshield shattered, he could see the mastiff in the passenger seat. Chewy growled.

Jerry stepped from the coach and stood before the town. “Good people of the town of New Hope, you are in danger.”

“Really, asshole? What do you think we’re all doing up on the wall? Dumb ass.”

The young man was grabbed by an ear and dragged off of the wall. “Jefferson Davis Allen, you watch your mouth!”

“Logan is a fraud.” Jerry pointed to the warrior on the wall.

“You’re the fraud, Bookworm,” Roy Tinner shouted back. “Logan told us all about you, library boy.”

“Jerry,” Logan stepped in front of the agitated crowd. “You should go. It’s not safe here.”

“I never would have guessed it, Logan. It was you all along.”

“Jerry, take your girlfriend. And your … bears? And go.”

Jerry turned to see his companions behind him. The boys still wore their bear costumes. Each was covered in grass stains.

“How many towns, Logan? How many since Colorado?”

“Jerry, it’s for your own good. Leave while you still can.” Logan’s mutt was at his heel growling at the group. Chewy burst through the front of the Silver Lining, put herself between the dog and her master and growled back.

“How many lives have you destroyed? How many people have trusted you, only to be betrayed?”

“I can’t be responsible for your safety, Bookworm.”

“I’m not leaving, Logan.” Jerry stepped closer to the wall and addressed the crowd. “Good people, this man has sold you a lie. You are not safe behind your walls.”

“He’s protecting us,” Roy pushed Logan out of the way and held up the crossbow as proof of his statement.

“Roy, don’t,” Logan tried to calm the councilman.

“They’re fake,” Jerry fired back.
 

“I’ll show you fake, you …” Roy Tinner lowered the crossbow and aimed it Jerry.

“Roy, stop!” Logan screamed.

Jerry stood his ground. “Shoot me, Roy!”

“Jerry, no!” Erica rushed to his side.

He pushed her back and turned back to Roy.

“C’mon, Roy. Pull the trigger, you spineless paper pusher.”

Logan put his hand on the crossbow, but he was too late. Roy pulled the release and fired the bolt straight at Jerry’s chest.

Erica screamed. Chewy barked. Jerry didn’t move.

The bolt whistled through the air, struck against the grain of Jerry’s leather jacket and shattered.

Roy stared in disbelief.

Jerry held up his hands. “Still don’t believe me, Roy?”

Roy grabbed the crossbow from a man standing next to him and fired again with the same result. Splintered wood bounced at Jerry’s feet.

“You see, it’s …”

Roy grabbed another bow and fired.

The bolt shattered.

“Okay, Roy. I think I’ve made my point.”

Roy, the city councilman, asked for another crossbow.

“They’re all the same. Don’t you see?”

Another bolt shattered against his jacket.

“Would you stop it, Roy?” Jerry stepped forward. The pile of brittle wood cracked beneath his feet.

“It’s going to be the same with flamethrowers. Maybe one good burst and they’ll suddenly lose pressure. You’ve dug pitfalls around the walls, correct?”

One of the defenders nodded.

“They won’t go for the walls. They’ll go straight for the gate. And Logan will let them in.”

Carl stepped forward. “Not this baby. She’s a beast with a hardened load in the back.” Carl giggled and looked to Logan for approval.

“Who has the keys?”

Without hesitation, Carl pointed at Logan.

There was a sudden burst of flame from one of the cannons. A roar of approval went up from the fire-person team. The jet of flame sputtered and fizzled; so did the roar of approval.

Roy had watched the pyrotechnic display and was finally convinced. He turned to accuse Logan, but the man had disappeared.

“Find him!” The mayor gripped his daughter close.

The town walls emptied as the people searched for the man they had trusted.

Jerry heard shouts and gunfire. Then, all was quiet. The town was still. The cement truck fired up and began to move.

Roy, the city councilman, stepped from the gates and waved Jerry and his friends into New Hope.

THIRTY-ONE

The air brakes fired in quick succession and the massive rig began to squeal as the calipers struggled to halt the forward momentum of the four trailers.

A lone rider sat astride his motorcycle. A second bike was propped up next to him. The rider waited for the rig to come to a stop and he yelled over the thrumming of the engine, “Apple Pie Sucks!”

The pass phrase was accepted. Doors flew open as the guard detail disembarked and secured a perimeter around the truck. Once it was established, two of the guards rushed to the bikes.

The rider dismounted and jogged to the rig as the guards fired up the motorcycles and pulled them into the rear trailer.

The rider pulled himself into the command center and saluted the major.

“Report, Sergeant,” the raspy voice seemed tired. He didn’t look up from the map table.

“Sir. Logan brought a woman to the rendezvous. Williams and I fired on the car with live rounds as ordered. As planned, Logan pursued us and discharged several blanks. I fell. Logan and the woman then pursued Williams over a mile up the road.”

The rider stopped.

The major looked up, “And?”

“When I was able to check, I found Williams dead. Shot, sir.”

“Logan?”

“I can’t be certain, sir. Perhaps the girl. I found a bloody knife near the body. I’m quite certain the staged knife fight occurred.”

The major considered this information; his eye drifted up and to the right. “It’s hard to trust a con man, Sergeant. He could be working an angle.”

“What’s the angle, sir?”

“I can’t be certain. But that man is always working an angle. Maybe he finally found a place he wanted to settle down.”

The sergeant couldn’t see it. Logan wasn’t one to settle down. He had shown up half dead at the gates of Alasis and conned his way in. Even the most developed city in the Midwest hadn’t swayed the vagabond’s wanderlust.

“Either way,” the major continued, “the cells are full. It may be best to approach this town with a no prisoner approach.”

“Sir?”

“No prisoners, Sergeant. Spread the order.”

“But, sir, what about Logan?”

“That slippery bastard will be smart enough to keep his head down. If not, I’m fairly certain we can find some other scumbag drifter that will fit the part.”

The sergeant hesitated.

“That’s an order about the orders, Sergeant.”

The pondering ceased and the soldier snapped to attention. He stepped from the cab and spread the word that no prisoners were to be taken from the town of New Hope.

The major pulled a microphone from a control panel and flipped a switch that enabled the loudspeaker. He cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone.

“It’s been a good season, boys. And, from what Logan tells us, this place is packed with food and medical supplies. More than enough to bring home to our growing family.

“After this final raid, we’ll head home and celebrate. Do me proud, boys.”

Through the hull of the truck he could hear the cheers of his men. Wars may change, worlds may change, but soldiers are always happy to go home.

He turned the amplifier off and turned to the driver, “Let’s roll out. And if you see that bastard in the Winnebago, you run his ass off the road.”

“Yes, sir.”