Revenge of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 4)

by Benjamin Wallace

  “Enough!” Gatsby pounded the table for effect. The wobbly leg had finally had enough, and it collapsed. He stared at it for a moment as the last few snacks slid onto the floor. “We are not Invictus, Pride.”

  “Clearly. He stepped right in and took control. He didn’t have a plan or soundbites approved by committee. I’m surprised you haven’t run them all by focus groups.”

  This sparked a thought in Gatsby’s mind and he turned to write on the whiteboard.

  Pride stormed across the room and yanked the dry erase marker from his hand. She threw it across the room.

  Gatsby held up the marker cap. “That’s just great, Pride. Now it’s going to dry out.”

  She grabbed the cap and threw it to the ground. “Invictus took over and we let him. He turned on the power and we gave him more. He built Alasis as he went on the backs of everyone we loved. We finally have the means to take back our freedom and all you want to do is plan and throw pee on him.”

  “That’s only phase one!” Gatsby yelled.

  “That guy was right.”

  “What guy?” Fahrenheit asked.

  “The man claiming to be the Librarian. He was right. We’re all talk. All plans. No action. And every day we talk about a new graffiti tag or protest chant, Invictus hurts more people.”

  “Are you questioning my leadership, Pride? Because I don’t need to remind you that this whole thing was my idea.”

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t Armstrong’s idea to go to the moon, was it?”

  “And you’re Armstrong in this wonderful analogy?”

  “It’s certainly not you.”

  Silence followed.

  “I’m a little confused by the analogy,” Typee said. “The moon was Kennedy’s idea.”

  “Yeah, that would still make Gatsby President.” Fahrenheit said.

  “The point is,” she said, “Even if he was the first one to think ‘Gee, it really sucks living under a bloodthirsty tyrant,’ it doesn’t mean he’s the best one to lead us. Right?”

  Pride looked around the table at the other members of the leadership council, hoping for their support. They each did their best not to make eye contact with her. They had no love for Gatsby, but his leadership meant they’d never have to commit. They could continue to plan and feel good about being all seditious without ever putting their plan into action. Their silence angered her more. “What if the Librarian were here? Would you follow him? So far he’s the only one who’s had the balls to stand up for what’s right.”

  “The Librarian isn’t real,” Typee sighed.

  “What if he was? What if they weren’t just stories and he was here right now saying, ‘fight’? Would that get you to act?”

  Silence was their answer.

  “Every day people are suffering,” she pleaded.

  “Duh,” said Gatsby, and sat back down in his chair.

  “Would the Librarian—“

  “We’re not the Librarian!” Gatsby shouted.

  Pride looked around the table once more and hung her head.

  “That’s obvious,” she said, and stormed out of the room. She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it. Her mind raced with options and she finally landed on a crazy one. If they wouldn’t take action, she’d find someone who would.

  FOURTEEN

  It was snowing now. The bitterly cold wind and wet sobered him up quickly but it did little to improve the canoe ride across the Niagara. The water was choppy, and they paddled hard just to fight the crests and the headwind.

  Chewy lay as flat as she could in the middle of the craft, doing her best to stay away from any splashes that made it over the gunwale. It wasn’t working, and the occasional shift in the wind filled his nose with the smell of wet dog.

  The man who called himself Eli was trusting enough to give Jerry the back of the canoe, so Jerry could keep an eye on his newfound friend without fear of being shot in the back. Of course, they both had to worry about being shot from any number of directions if they were spotted by any of Alasis’s patrol boats.

  They paddled furiously for what felt like an hour and managed to stay clear of the boats by hiding in the darkness and the swells. They made the far shore wetter and colder than he had ever been and stashed the canoe in a scraggly clump of bushes a good distance up the bank.

  Jerry shivered uncontrollably, and he could feel the cuffs of his jeans freezing solid, but he hadn’t been shot and that was a pleasant surprise. He rubbed Chewy’s fur to get the excess water out and spoke to Eli. “That was easier than I thought.”

  “It’s just a river,” Eli said as he pulled the last piece of camouflage into place. “Getting across isn’t the trick.”

  The trick was the military presence. Guards were everywhere as the pair made their way slowly and quietly into the center of town. Even in the dimly lit streets, Jerry could see the many different-colored capes hanging from their armor. Surely they all had their place in Invictus’s order, but Jerry couldn’t tell one from the other.

  They ducked and ran and scurried and dove for cover to avoid the sentries, and the more they did, the less it made sense to be here. Jerry finally had an opportunity to bring up the subject when they dashed inside an old souvenir store. “This side of the river doesn’t seem the most practical place to hide.”

  “It’s a the-place-they’d-least-expect kind of thing,” Eli said with an eye on the street. “They’ve been tearing up the other side looking for the Resistance. As trite as it sounds, hiding under their noses is the safest option right now. That side is the enemy. This side is home and they feel pretty secure behind that wall, so they tend to let their guard down.”

  They ducked behind the counter as a flashlight’s beam swept the store. The patrol moved on as the two men dashed back into the street.

  More guards and more sneaking followed. The well-lit streets made the trek more perilous. There was no lack of shadows, but Jerry couldn’t remember ever sneaking through such a brightly lit town. Nowhere left on Earth had access to the kind of power Alasis did. The falls began generating electricity more than a hundred years ago and nothing was going to stop them any time soon.

  They wound through alleyways, ducked behind cars and hid in the storefronts of abandoned tourist traps and Tim Horton’s. Eli finally held up a hand and whispered, “That’s where we’re headed.”

  Jerry looked across the street and sighed. “Your top-secret safe house is in a wax museum?”

  “Pretty brilliant, right?”

  “How is it brilliant?”

  “Let’s say we do get spotted and someone tells the guards we’re in the wax museum.” Eli smiled. “This place is lousy with them. They’d still have to check seven different places and we’d have plenty of time to escape.”

  Jerry grew concerned. He was always concerned to some extent. Most everyone who survived the end of the world was always concerned about something. There were mutants and superbugs and roving clouds of toxic gas. Being concerned was a general feeling most people learned to live with. But this was a specific kind of concern that told him he may end up paddling back across a river all by himself. “You’re not crazy, are you, Eli?”

  “I don’t think so. But in a world gone mad, how would I know?”

  “Fair point.”

  “No, I’m not crazy.” Eli slapped Jerry on the arm. “No crazier than you are.”

  They waited several minutes before they felt it safe to cross the street and entered the building as quietly as possible. Once inside, Eli took a deep breath and dropped the hushed tones he’d been using since they stepped foot on shore. “Phew. It feels good to be back home.”

  Some people are creeped out by wax museums. And that’s understandable. With lifeless eyes staring from poorly sculpted figures, it can sometimes look like a person was entombed in wax rather than sculpted from it. These eerie looks gave many people a feeling of being watched or haunted. It made their skin crawl and caused them to look over their shoulder more than normal. An
d that was with the lights on. If they ever saw it with the lights out, they’d piss themselves.

  The low light and shadows even made the Mary Poppins figure look scary. The motionless figures lined the entire length of the entryway, and Jerry began to feel like he was being watched. It was as if the figures were just waiting for a command to lurch forward and attack like a host of zombie celebrities. He knew it was an irrational fear, but the gallery made distinguishing real threats and imagined ones difficult. Even if the figures didn’t come to life, any number of enemies could be hiding in their ranks.

  Chewy had bolted instantly into a world of new and bizarre smells. She ran from figure to figure, sniffing each one only briefly and then running on to the next. It wasn’t until she stopped and pissed on Jim Carrey’s Riddler that Jerry began to relax.

  “This way,” Eli called from the end of the hallway. “Let me introduce you to the guys.”

  Jerry followed Eli into a much larger room. A silent water fountain was at its center. Taylor Swift was floating in the middle and a one-handed Tom Hanks sat on the far side.

  Jerry instantly recognized the two men he had tangled with earlier. The other one was dressed like Batman minus the Dark Knight’s cowl. He wasn’t much older than twenty.

  Chewy recognized the men as well and began to growl. This woke Lord Stanley from his slumber while another dog leapt out of Doc Brown’s time machine and rushed to the encounter.

  The grizzled man laughed. “Well, well, well. Look what Eli dragged in.”

  Eli cleared his throat and spoke up. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Jerry.”

  The other man called Lord Stanley to heel and waved. “Glad you changed your mind.”

  “I told you that you weren’t alone,” Eli said. “We’ve got a whole room full of post-apocalyptic nomadic warriors, just like you.”

  “Don’t lump me in with you nuts,” said the grizzled man.

  Eli chuckled. “This is Lucas. And he doesn’t like to be considered the hero type.”

  “We met this morning,” Jerry said with a sarcastic smile.

  Lucas returned a cold stare.

  “They call him the Soldier,” Eli said. “He’s a wasteland mercenary. He likes to claim he fought for the money instead of what was right.”

  “Money is always right,” Lucas replied.

  “So what are you doing here?” Jerry asked, and before the man could answer, he added, “Let me guess. This time it’s personal?”

  Lucas wasn’t amused, but a series of chuckles rolled around the room.

  “You think you’re funny?” Lucas asked, and pulled back his jacket to reveal his gun.

  Jerry smiled back. “I’ve heard stories about The Soldier. And in not one did he demand a cent for helping people. People think ‘This time, it’s personal’ is your catchphrase.”

  The room laughed harder.

  “I don’t see why that’s any cause to laugh!” Lucas scolded his teammates.

  “Take it easy, Luke.” Jerry said. “All I’m trying to say is you’re better liked than you’d like to be.”

  Eli continued with the introductions. “This is Joshua. He’s a road warrior out of Canada. You may have heard some people call him the Mad Max with Manners.”

  Joshua waved. “Nice to meet you. Formally.”

  “And the kid sitting in the car over there is Connor.”

  Connor stepped out of the car and crossed the room. He stuck out his hand. “They call me the Stranger. You’ve probably heard of me.”

  “Did anyone ever actually call you that?” Lucas asked.

  “What?” Connor said. “No, it’s not like people said, Hi, The Stranger. But it’s how I’m known.”

  “You’re known as the Stranger?” Lucas said with a sneer. “Exactly how everyone describes everyone they don’t actually know.”

  “What? No, I’m The Stranger. It’s different.”

  “It’s dumb,” Lucas said.

  “It’s part of my mythos. The man with no name.”

  “Eli’s The-Man-With-No-Name,” Joshua said.

  “Yeah, but metaphorically.”

  “Are you sure you know what a metaphor is?” Lucas asked.

  The Stranger sighed. “We’ve been over this.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve talked about this and I’m still not convinced,” Lucas said.

  “Look, it’s simple. When people say a stranger helped them out, chances are, that was probably me.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. “And isn’t that convenient?”

  “You heard about the time The Stranger saved Hope Falls?”

  “Yeah,” Lucas said, but it sounded more like, “Sooo?”

  “That was me! And there was the time that stranger saved the slave down in New Dawn from a dozen men. And half of them had chainsaw arms.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Me again!”

  “It’s you every time, huh?” Joshua said with a smile.

  “This is ridiculous, guys,” Connor pleaded. “We’ve been over this. It’s part of the game. We all chose names to protect our anonymity. Like, Jerry here. What did you call yourself?”

  “I never called myself anything.”

  “And do people know who you are?” Lucas asked.

  Jerry thought back to the Resistance meeting. They had no idea who he was. Even when he told them. “No.”

  “There you go!” Connor slapped Jerry on the back. “Now let’s all eat.”

  Dinner was served in the Western diorama. They had replaced the prop campfire with an actual campfire and set to work cooking a canned-food dinner of questionable vintage, but if Jerry had ever tasted a bad baked bean, he never knew it.

  “Who’d they send after you?” Joshua asked. “Was it Darius?”

  “That piece of shit,” Connor said, and spit on the ground.

  “Hate that motherfucker,” Lucas said through a mouthful of beans.

  “I don’t know who that is,” Jerry said.

  “He’s one of Invictus’s men,” Eli explained. “Tough son of a bitch. He’s got a scar across his neck where someone cut his throat. It still didn’t kill him.”

  Lucas took over. “He’s Invictus’s attack dog. Head of his Legio X.”

  Jerry shook his head. “I don’t know anyone like that. They sent a guy named Mr. Christopher after me.”

  “Oh,” Eli said with somber tone. “That son of a bitch.”

  “Who’s Christopher?” Lucas asked. “Another Legio?”

  “No,” Eli said. “He’s worse.”

  “Worse?” Lucas chuckled. “Worse than Darius?”

  “Much worse,” Connor assured him. “Cold. Ruthless. Calculating. Some say that even Invictus is afraid of him.”

  “I don’t see how he could be worse than Darius,” Lucas muttered.

  “Darius deals with Alasis’s problems as they arise,” Eli said. “Christopher hunts them down.”

  “He gets paid by the head,” Connor added.

  Joshua had been digesting the conversation quietly. He finally spoke to Jerry. “Who are you?”

  “I told you, my name is Jerry.”

  “That is bullshit,” Joshua said as he set down his plate of beans. “Jerry doesn’t get the attention of Mr. Christopher.”

  “The mouth on you, Bieber,” Lucas said. “I thought you people were supposed to be polite.”

  “Shut up, Lucas,” he said, and turned back to Jerry. “What do people call you?”

  Jerry looked around the campfire. It had grown quiet and they were all leaning in, waiting for a response. He might as well tell them. No one believed him anyway.

  “They call me the Librarian.”

  It’s an odd thing when silence gets quieter. Nobody moved. Even the fire stopped crackling for a moment.

  The vacuum of sound was quickly replaced with laughter. Lucas’s laugh had a tint of cruelty to it. Connor’s seemed rather overdramatic. Joshua did his best to stifle his quickly and politely, and Eli just let it fly.


  “Man oh man,” Connor said. “Everyone wants to be the Librarian.”

  “Is that so?” asked Jerry.

  “In this town anyway,” Lucas said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I was the Librarian once.”

  “Me too,” Joshua said.

  “Why’s that?” Jerry asked.

  “The Resistance, man. They’re just waiting for that guy to show up, so I figured, I tell them I’m the Librarian, lead them to victory. Invictus is dead and justice is served.”

  “Me too,” said Connor.

  “That was my plan,” Lucas said.

  They all looked to Eli, who eventually admitted, “Yeah I tried it too.”

  No wonder they hadn’t believed him. If everyone that came to town claimed to be him, how could he expect them to believe he was actually him? Based on Gatsby’s reply, however, he doubted it would have made much of a difference.

  “Well, I told them that as well,” Jerry said, and returned to his meal.

  They all got another laugh out of this.

  “Did you meet that prick, Gatsby?” Lucas asked.

  Jerry nodded.

  “Man, what a douche. I wanted to punch that bastard in the face so bad.” This spurred on more laughter as everyone agreed that Gatsby was a douche.

  “Did you meet the woman?” Joshua asked. “I think they called her Pride.”

  Jerry nodded, but added, “I didn’t get her name.”

  “I don’t care what they call her,” Lucas said. “She was hot.”

  Everyone agreed with boyish enthusiasm.

  “Don’t you think so, Librarian?” Connor asked, using finger quotes to mock Jerry’s claim to the moniker.

  Was she hot? Jerry thought back to the meeting with the Resistance, and more specifically that moment on the shore when she dropped him off. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she was attractive. Beauty standards had changed dramatically since the bombs went off, but Pride rose above those standards on either side of the apocalypse. It hadn’t occurred to him at the time, and even now it was an acknowledgment of a fact instead of recognition of lust. Memories of Erica quickly replaced the image of Pride and sorrow filled his heart. That sorrow fed the rage in his stomach and wiped all of the images from his mind. It was best not to think at all, so he just shrugged and said, “I guess so.”