The Dark Knight (Apocalypse Weird 2) (19 page)

That the Terminator was following
Cory was obvious from the ruined houses along the ridgeline as Cade crouched
and crawled and dashed to keep the Terminator in sight.

The thing was carrying the 9mm PulseRifle, locked, loaded,
and ready for bear.  There would be no stopping the Killing Machine.

In time he lost sight of Cory, but Cade could guess the kid
was making a beeline straight for the library, the only place he would think it
might be safe.

“So stop...” whispered Cade in anger.

It was that moment.

That moment every soldier knew was coming.  That moment Cade
had been warned about by the oldster and the other soldiers who’d seemed so
hard to him when he was just fourteen and carrying explosives to take out Can
tanks for the Resistance in the frozen desert of Nevada.  It was that moment
for Cade, the survivor of battles no one cared to name anymore because battles
were no longer for glory or victory.  That moment every soldier knew he might
face one day.  Battles were for survival of the human race now.

Battles were won by sacrifice.

Cade had just the grenade to take out the Cans state of the
art Killing Machine.  No Barrett.  No electromagnetic pulse rifle.  No machine
gun with armor piercing or explosive rounds.  No portable railgun rocket launcher.

Just a grenade.

“Might as well...” he muttered as he crawled along an old
drainage ditch upslope of the determined Terminator.  Cade slithered as fast as
the machine dragged its bad leg, its head swiveling side to side as it plowed
farther and farther into the ruin.

It was heading straight for the library.

Cade saw the territory surrounding the library in his mind. 
They were north of it now.  The last shreds of the old human neighborhoods
fading and then the dead open space of the old rail lines.  Then the library.

The Terminator made a sudden sharp left turn, halted and
scanned the houses, its head moving slowly across the waste and destruction,
then it continued down a small street cluttered with cars and debris.  Cade
knew the street led to an access road that opened onto the open area and the
rail lines.

There would be no throwing of the grenade.  Even if its
small explosion of unquenchable white phosphorus somehow landed on the machine,
it wouldn’t bother the thing.  The Terminator would merely reach into its
flaming flesh and dig the burning explosive out and remove it.  The only reason
the Resistance carried these type of grenades was to melt down the Terminator’s
combat chassis so the Cans couldn’t reclaim it or even find it. 

That’s why Cade had brought the grenade in the first place.

No, the grenade would have to be inserted, by hand, into the
chassis, within the alloy limbs and servos, stuck where it couldn’t be removed,
so it could do its work and melt the nightmare thing down.

“Running outta time, man,” Cade cursed at himself as he
watched the Terminator slowly disappearing down the small street.  He knew it
was worried about an ambush.

Worried, Cade laughed bitterly.  Then he remembered Cans
don’t worry.  They don’t feel.  They’re just machines.

“You know what you’ve gotta do,” he heard himself say as he
picked up the pace and began to crouch-run along the ridgeline drainage ditch
toward a shortcut that would put him above and in front of the machine.  “You
know what you’ve got to do.”

Cory slid down the slope above the access road and landed at
the bottom in a tumble.  Even though the afternoon air was cold and brittle in
his lungs, his mask was filled with sweat.  In front of him, the train tracks
ran away to the north and   south.  The wasteland on either side was also
considered, by all the neighborhood kids Cory had played with throughout the
years of his adolescence, as the “train tracks” in general.  It was an area of
small stands of wild trees the children called “forests” and built forts and
hideouts within on weekends and after school.  The area had been a maze of
trails across low hills and wide patches of dry ground where weeds and sage
mixed with wild cacti and red ferns.  Farther down had been the run-off stream
and then the swamp.

Cory knew where he needed to go and started off through the
wasteland, running along the trails that skirted the train tracks.  A high hill
rose off to his right and Cory recognized, remembered, the hill and all the
“forts” they’d dug into its top on all those long lost weekends of childhood
forever.  Cory had loved the making of “forts” and was often allowed to carry
away all the dirt while other children made the dirt clod “ammo” that would be
used to hurl at trains or constructed the mounds around the hole or even the
roof for cover.

And even though all the lushness and greenery and
multi-colored houses that watched from across the tracks were gone, Cory still
recognized the face of the place as familiar.

He could see the swamp ahead.  He knew the good dog was on
the other side of it.  Waiting at the library.

Scanning...


Target Alpha Tracks Identified.


Scanning...


Scanning for IEDs...


Scanning for Virus...


The Thinking Machine continued its progress, dragging its
damaged leg as it followed the tracks through the fire-blasted sand and ash. 
Its only concern was that a Virus ambush unit might be waiting somewhere
nearby.  But the longer it followed the footprints, the more Probability Logic
and the Reason Matrix Network kept coming to the same conclusion that there
would be no ambush.  The number against an ambush now stood at
78.2
.

Scanning...


Mission Status: CRITICAL


Scanning...


Target Alpha Identified.


Terminate.


Mission Priority SILAS Override...


Mission Redirect:  Locate Virus Node.


Scanning...


Cory turned and saw the stranger far behind him.  Down the
train tracks and coming.  The stranger and the big gun. 

Cory ran for the swamp.

Cade came to the edge of the hill that had been cut in half
long ago to make room for the rail line.  Now it was just a cliff opening up
into the empty spaces of the wasteland and the dead swamp.  He could just make
out the weathered slate gray shingles of the flat-roofed library poking through
the dead trees of the old swamp.  Cory was just below him, running as fast as
he could.

Cade flung himself down the crumbling cliff as chalk and dry
dirt erupted in plumes around his feet.

“Hey... Batman!” Cade shouted as his descent turned into a
tumble and he went end over end toward the bottom and the rail line below.  Ten
feet before the bottom, there was a sheer drop and Cade went over that, landing
in a pile of hard sand that drove the wind from his lungs.  He felt something
“snap” near his hip.  He was still clutching the grenade.

Cory stopped.

“Batman...” gasped Cade.

Cory remained standing, watching the chalk-covered man roll
over onto his back and suck in a lungful of air.  “... stop,” the man panted.

Cade tilted his head to the right and saw the Terminator
coming along the tracks toward them.  The PulseRifle leveled and ready to fire
in their direction.  In that moment Cade knew that the library meant more than
just the survival of the human race.  Somehow it meant much, much more.  And...
his leg was probably broken.

Cade motioned for Cory to come closer.

The Terminator was less than a hundred yards away.  Cade
wondered why in the hell it wasn’t firing. 

But in his heart he knew why.

Target Bravo Identified and Tagged.


Scanning for ambush... Negative.


Terminate Virus Protocols in effect...


SILAS Override.  Mission Status: Critical.


Secure (1) Virus unit for Interrogation Mode re: Virus Node
location...


Targeting...


Cory bent down to Cade.

Cade looked into a child’s eyes in a man’s body.  Yes, he
was big, almost as big as Cade.  Yes, he was a young man.  But the eyes, the
eyes told you Cory was just a child.  That he would always be a child.  Cade
couldn’t remember ever being a child.

He only remembered survival.

And right then, at that moment, he knew he’d need to switch
his plan.  Cory had to go on living.  It had been his intention to arm the
grenade, give it the kid, and run.  At least the kid would be destroyed and
Cade knew if he were caught himself, he’d never tell the Cans where the library
was.

“Kid,” Cade huffed as he sucked at the dry cold air.  His
voice papery.  “You can’t go back there.  You can’t go back to the library.”

“But it’s safe there... with the dog.  Safe from
Strangers.”  There was almost a whine in Cory’s flat voice.  Almost.

“Can’t...”

Cade knew the Terminator would fire at any moment.  Knew he
was about to take one for the Resistance.  That had always been part of the
deal.

Always.

Someone had once said to him,
“Humanity’s gotta go on,
kid, no matter what.”

“You gotta go somewhere else.  You gotta go someplace else
that’s safe.  You can’t let that... thing... follow you back there.”  Then he
grabbed Cory’s jacket and pulled him close.  “You can’t, understand me?  You
have to be brave now, Batman.  I... we... need your help.”

Cory nodded his head.

Cade was about to say, “Now, run,” when the Terminator
fired.

Cade took a 9mm electrically accelerated dumb slug right in
the gut.  He watched as his blood spattered out onto the dry chalk and sand
alongside the old rusting rails.  With complete control, he looked at Cory and
nodded.  Willing Cory to run.  Now.

Cory ran and a moment later, Cade armed the white phosphorus
grenade and passed out.

Cory ran for the swamp.  Ran for the library.  He didn’t
care what the man said.  He wanted someplace safe from strangers right now.  He
wanted the dog.  He wanted Daddy.

“Don’t go down in the swamp, Cory.  There’re monsters in
there!”

He heard a small explosion.

He followed the old trail down into the dry sand and the
withered blackened trees.  All around him, dead wood twisted and clutched at
the gray sky.  The air was cold and getting colder.  He could see the library
rising above the dead trees.

“Sometimes little boys need to be brave.”

Cory stopped and listened to his heart thundering inside his
massive chest.

“Sometimes little boys need to be brave.”

And...

“I don’t want to be brave anymore!” he shouted, his voice
quivering with fear.

And then he heard his Daddy... from that time, that time
when something had seemed so frightening and Cory couldn’t take it one second
longer.  Was it a fair, or an airshow, or some free thing Colin Morris could
take his son to so Cory could have memories even if Colin Morris wasn’t sure
about that at all.

Maybe the memories were for Colin.

Maybe.

On that day when the jets had ripped the sky and torn the
air to shreds above Cory...

Disturbing Cory.

Scaring Cory.

Cory crying and holding his ears as his Dad walked him away
from the chaos of the air show and promised to take him home once they found
the other people they’d come with...

He’d said, “For just a few minutes more, Cory, be brave.” 
Close and gently.  The smell of Daddy overwhelming the jets and the popcorn and
all the other sounds and smells that had frightened Cory.

The smell of safety.

... of trust.

... of someone who never stops... love is patient... is
kind... always listens... makes things better... the world safer... Daddy.

“For just a few minutes more, Cory, be brave.”

He saw the stranger coming for him through the dead trees.

Cory saw the big gun.

Cory knew the stranger was a monster worse than the
Scarecrow and the Joker and all the rest.  Much, much worse.

Cory ran off through the dead trees, away from the library. 
Running for some other unknown safe place.  Someplace where he could find Daddy
or someone who’d understand that Cory needed help.  That his bravery was running
out. 

And the insects, the invisible insects began to buzz and
that strange fog seemed to come from nowhere and rise as Cory dove deeper and
deeper into the dead swamp.  It was dry and cold inside the clutching fog and
Cory ran through the trees that were barely visible now.  He turned once and
saw the Stranger following.  Dim, distant, but there inside the mist with Cory.

The fog came close, and for a moment
Cory felt strangely light and peaceful.

An unseen bell struck once with a distant dull
gong
and
in that single sound, there were notes and chords that stretched away and
seemed to never end.  Cory closed his eyes and smelled flowers and cherry
blossoms.

Cherry blossoms were like the smell of the Slurpee he and
Daddy got sometimes.

And his mother.

The air turned dry and warm, and when Cory took his next
step forward, he heard the sound of grit being ground into a parking lot.  That
unique dry echoing sound one hears on a hot day when the sun beats down and the
air feels like a blast from an oven.  The next steps that followed were just
like that one and Cory opened his eyes.

He was standing in front of a 7-11.

The 7-11 Daddy took him to sometimes.

“The Slurpee place.”

That’s what he called it.

Cory walked into the store as the doors parted for him.  He
felt the cool blast of air conditioning.  There was no one in the store.  No
music either.  Just the sound of a Slurpee machine ceaselessly whirling.  Cory
walked toward the machine and watched as the blue and the red Slurpee inside
the machine turned over and over as though nothing were ever wrong with the
world.

Cory took a small cup and filled it with red Slurpee.  He
set it down, selected a small straw and put it into the red colored ice drink.

And then he drank.

There were no strangers here.

He turned, expecting the door to slide open and to see the
stranger with the big gun come in and shoot him.  But the door remained closed
and outside all was hot and lifeless.

Cory took off his backpack and undid his cape.  He laid it out
on the ground beneath the slowly swirling Slurpee machine.  Then he took off
his mask.  Pieces of black ash had somehow gotten inside.  Cory brushed those
away and they fell onto the clean linoleum floor and were blown away by the
draft coming from the air conditioning.

Cory sat down with his Slurpee and continued to suck its icy
coolness.

He would wait here for Daddy.

Daddy would come here.

This was a Daddy place.

In time, Cory curled up on his cape and slept.  He was very
tired from his long and strange adventure.

When he awoke, it was night outside the store.  But inside
the store, it was brightly lit and Cory wandered about and ate a few snacks.  A
Slim Jim.  Some potato chips.  A candy bar.  He walked outside through the
automatic sliding door and entered the night. 

It was quiet.  The moon wasn’t up yet.

There was no one anywhere.

After a few minutes, he turned to the east and saw the
beginning of a full moon rising above the low gray mountains there.

Then he knew what he’d need to do to find Daddy.

The Bat Signal.

If Daddy was in trouble, then Cory would see the Bat Signal
on the moon and he would go to wherever it was shining and he would find Daddy
there.

Because it was night, Cory put on his cape and mask again
because Batman can go out at night.  He would climb a high hill and see where
the signal was coming from.

Cory left the store and followed Forest Lake Avenue up
toward the moon and the mountains in the east.  By the time he made Bake
Parkway the moon was above the mountains.  It was a big moon and it glowed a
bright yellow as it rose out of the distant smoke and haze of other disasters.

The moon was rising toward the north of Cory, so he followed
Portola Parkway, north toward the Market Faire, watching it and not seeing the
Strangers he passed in distant businesses, banging at the windows with
soundless screams as he walked by.  Trapped mindlessly inside the stores they’d
found themselves in on that last day.

In time, Cory passed the Market Faire, watching the swollen
moon as it climbed before his eyes higher and higher into the night sky.  At
any moment, Cory knew Daddy would send up the Bat Signal and Cory would see and
go to him and eventually, Cory was absolutely convinced of this, there would be
pancakes, which meant so much more than just food.

So much more, as sometimes ordinary things do.

Cory found himself cutting through an open wilderness park
and entering the charcoaled ruins of a neighborhood that had burned to the
ground.  He crossed through blackened foundations and climbed up naked ashy
hillsides, only to cross through the skeletal remains of houses where bathtubs
and toilets were the only things that remained.  Melted cars in weird shapes
rested on scorched streets and Cory climbed higher and higher up the hill,
watching the moon as it stood straight above him now. 

Waiting.

At the top of the hill, amid the ruin of a small palace,
Cory found a patio and some broken stonework to rest on.  The smell of burnt
wood hung heavy in the air and mixed with some unseen night-blooming jasmine. 
Cory watched the moon waver amid the debris in the reflection of the pool.

At any moment...

... he knew the Bat Signal would be there.

At any moment...

He waited and watched throughout the night.  Watching and
waiting like a good boy until the moon had crossed the night sky, turning the
few clouds in the east silver.  In time, the moon was out over the coast and
falling into an ocean that seemed like the costume of the Batman from the
movies.  Silvery and dark.

And suddenly Cory was crying, because what else was there
left to do now?

He was all alone.

He’d been brave.  Even for just a little longer when it was
needed most in ways Cory would never understand.

And Daddy was never coming to get Cory.

Never.

Ever.

And in time, Ash came and sat beside Cory in the night and
he sobbed into her because he knew she was not a stranger and that she was
kind.

The End