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

by Benjamin Wallace

  Once they were a few blocks into the town, they felt comfortable enough to talk again.

  “I don’t like running away from a fight,” Lucas said as he rubbed his hands briskly against one another.

  “Don’t think of it as running away,” Joshua said. “Think of it as regrouping.”

  “That doesn’t help.” Lucas bent over and petted the Blue Heeler. The dog wagged in response but continued to shiver. It moved closer against Lucas’s leg, and the man scratched at its head and asked himself, “What kind of asshole leaves his dog behind? What did he name it?”

  “Heeler, I think.”

  “What kind of an asshole would leave Heeler behind?”

  “It wouldn’t have done anyone any good if we’d been caught,” Eli said, and led them down a poorly lit street. Dying lights flickered and the licking flames from trash cans cast erratic shadows on the building walls.

  They passed through a neighborhood and onto a broad avenue before crossing the street to an old theater with a tattered awning and black steel doors. Eli pulled the door opened and waved the party inside.

  Inside, the setting improved. The tile floor was littered with debris, but at the end of the foyer was another set of doors with intact windows that promised to keep the wind off of the men for the night. Beyond the foyer they found an ornate wooden bar that stood as the centerpiece of a former music hall. And at the end of the room, an empty stage beckoned performers that would never show. Overturned dining tables were scattered around what had once been a dance floor, but there were more than enough chairs for the men to take a seat and assess their predicament.

  “What do we do now?” Lucas asked.

  “We’ll be safe here for tonight,” Eli said.

  For all that had fallen apart in the theater, the acoustics still functioned perfectly, and the footsteps from the stage cracked around them. Out of the darkness of the black curtain stepped the woman from the Resistance.

  The sheepdog barked and the three men jumped to their feet, pulling their guns as they did. Lucas kept her covered while the other two men checked their surroundings to ensure they weren’t being ambushed.

  “It’s just me,” the woman said. “I’m alone.”

  “Well, if it isn’t the hot chick from the Bookkeepers,” Lucas said.

  “Well, if it isn’t three little Librarians,” she replied.

  Lucas had no comeback. No matter how tough you pretended to be, it was always difficult to get called out in a lie. And the harder you pretended, the harder the truth was to hear.

  “What do you want, lady?” Eli asked as he holstered his weapon.

  “I’m looking for the new guy. I’m sure you’ve seen him. He’s a librarian, too.” She walked calmly to the center of the stage and picked up a chair from the ground. She spun it around so the back faced the men and straddled the seat.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joshua said.

  “Yeah, no idea. Now why don’t you go back to your little book club and keep doing nothing. We’ve got a war to fight.”

  “Oh, Lucas,” she said with a smile. “Always so cranky.”

  Lucas was taken aback by her comment.

  “How does she know you?” Joshua asked.

  “She doesn’t,” Lucas replied.

  “Lucas Dylan. AKA the Soldier. AKA the Wasteland Mercenary, the Merc with the Heart of Gold.”

  “Watch it!” Lucas said.

  “You’ve spent years offering your services to the people of the apocalypse. But…always the poor ones. I’m not going to suggest you’re not a very good soldier. But I do know you’re not a very good businessman.”

  “And Elias Reynolds. How many times have you turned down the offer of a new home just to wander until you find yourself in trouble once again?”

  Eli sat back down and folded his arms.

  “Joshua Campbell and, of course, Lord Stanley. So polite. So helpful. The Savior of Sault St. Marie. The Martyr of Mississippi Mills. The Patriot of Pusey.”

  “Pusey?” Lucas laughed.

  “Shut up, it’s a place in Ontario,” Joshua shot back.

  “We know all of you,” the woman said. “We may not be the best at revolting, but we’ve got our intelligence more than in order.”

  “So, you tell us. Who’s the new guy?” Lucas asked.

  “He’s the Librarian,” Pride said with a smile.

  “Just like us,” Eli said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, we’re all the Librarian. Isn’t that right?” Lucas said with a fair amount of whimsy and sarcasm in his voice. “Because maybe the Librarian isn’t a person after all. Maybe it’s an idea that lives in all of us. It’s our sense of honor. Our desire to do good. Deep down, we’re all the Librarian. Is that what you’re saying, lady?”

  “No,” Pride said. “He’s really the Librarian.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “He is. And I need to find him.”

  “Well good luck,” Joshua said, and sat down in his chair. “Invictus raided our little hideaway and last time we saw the new guy, he was running south.”

  “They raided the wax museum?” she asked.

  Eli didn’t respond. He could tell she had asked for no other reason than to reveal that she had known their location all along. He’d always hated games like that.

  Lucas answered for him. “He and the kid got out, but we don’t know where they went.”

  Pride sat up a little in her chair. “Who’s the kid?”

  “He’s not a kid kid,” Eli said. “But a younger guy.”

  “Everyone is younger than you, Eli.”

  “Shut up, Lucas.” Eli looked back at the woman. It was all but imperceptible, but she was leaning farther forward in the chair than she had been. He continued, “Well, and here I thought you knew everything. His name is Connor. Claims to be known as the Stranger. He came to see you a couple of weeks ago.”

  Pride listened intently but gave no clue as to whether the information jogged her memory.

  “Speaking of knowing everything,” Joshua said, “what do you know about this new guy bossing around Invictus’s men?”

  “Who?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.

  “From the way he was talking, he thought he was the new Christopher. He was bossing the troops around when they raided our hideout.”

  “We don’t know who he is. He just recently showed up with Christopher’s hat and head claiming to have killed him.”

  “So Christopher is dead?” Eli asked.

  She nodded. “The Skinners, too.”

  “You can thank the new guy for the Skinners, but even he thought Christopher was still alive.”

  “They found his body in a Cracker Barrel.”

  “Like an actual cracker barrel?” Lucas asked.

  “It amazes me you think you have a right to treat people like they’re dumb,” Joshua said.

  “It could be an actual cracker barrel, cheese curd! It wouldn’t be the worst place to hide a body.”

  “It wasn’t an actual barrel,” Pride explained with a sigh.

  “Some guy kills Mr. Christopher, brings his head to town and takes his job and you don’t know who he is?” Lucas laughed. “Then I guess your intelligence isn’t as good as you think. You have no idea what’s going on around you.”

  “Excuse me,” a small child said as he brushed past Lucas, causing the mercenary to jump. The child giggled at the man’s reaction and continued on to the stage.

  “You pick the worst places to hide, Eli,” Lucas snapped.

  “What is it, Oliver?” Pride asked.

  The child climbed up the stage and signaled for her to lean over. He whispered something in her ear and handed her a slip of paper.

  “What’s he saying?” Joshua asked.

  Pride looked at the men. She chewed the inside of her cheek, perhaps mulling over how much she could tell them. She finally spoke. “Your friends have been captured.”

  “Where?”

  “They caught
them at the aquarium,” the boy answered. “They’re being taken to the tower now.”

  “That’s enough, Oliver,” Pride said and stood up. “We have to go.”

  “Wait!” Eli raised his voice. “What are you going to do?”

  Pride looked at them again and Eli could see her weighing her options. Her answer wasn’t what he expected. “That’s our business.”

  “Oh get off of it, girlie,” Lucas said. “You’re not going to do anything. Your business is cowering in the shadows and waiting for Invictus to die of old age. You’re the worst resistance in history.”

  “What we do is none of your concern, Lucas.”

  “Ooooh,” he mocked. “Reminding me of your vast knowledge. Well, your fantastic intelligence network isn’t going to stop the bad guy or save the good guys.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she said, and let the phrase hang in the air.

  “I’d be fucking flabbergasted.”

  “This is all insane.” Joshua stood and approached the stage. “We are all here fighting for the same thing. We all want Invictus gone. We all want the people here to be free and the people out in the wasteland to live without the fear of Death Trucks coming to make paupers and slaves of them. We are offering to help. It would be foolish not to accept it.”

  “Every one of you lied to us,” she sniped. “Trust has to be earned.”

  “Like getting your spies to keep tabs on us?” Lucas asked, pointing at the child next to her.

  Pride looked at Oliver and back to the men. There was a certain concession in her expression, but she made no attempt to apologize. “It’s not up to me. The council—“

  “The council sucks,” the boy shouted. “Gatsby sucks. All they ever do is talk.”

  “There you go, kid!” Lucas applauded.

  “These men can help us,” Oliver continued. “That one killed three guards by himself when they escaped.”

  “Which guy?” she asked.

  “The ugly one,” he answered, and pointed at Lucas.

  “Hey, you brat!” Lucas suddenly wasn’t a fan of the kid.

  Oliver ignored the remark and continued his plea. “They can help us.”

  “We can’t trust them,” Pride said.

  “Then don’t trust us,” Eli walked to the base of the stage. “Don’t let us into your little do-nothing club. But we have the same goals here. We want Invictus gone as much as you do. That may be hard to understand. How could we hate him as much as you? You live here. You see his speeches. You may think he’s just your problem. But there is a world outside this city. And he preys on them every day. There are few people out there that don’t fear his trucks, his soldiers. He turns their homes into ruins, their loved ones into slaves. That’s why we’re here. Not to rob you of your cause but to end the suffering he oversees. Forget the Resistance. Honestly, none of us here really needs another nickname anyway. But let us help you stop this madman!”

  Pride studied the men in front of the stage in complete silence. She eyed each of them individually and then sighed.

  EIGHTEEN

  The Skylon tower was built in 1964 to offer a better view of one of nature’s greatest wonders. It was later improved by adding two Starbucks and a 4D theater that featured a film about the Falls where viewers could appreciate the majesty and grandeur of the spectacle without having to step outside.

  The tower’s construction was financed by Charles Reese, the son of the man with all the peanut butter pieces. Despite this, the tower had never been referred to as the Tower That Peanut Butter Built despite it being tremendously fun to say.

  For decades, the tower had provided the greatest view of the Falls and the surrounding area. Families rode to its great height and stood in awe of nature’s wonder and 8,000 square miles of countryside. But an apocalypse changes everything, and now the tower served as the throne room of Great Lord Invictus. From there he ruled over all he surveyed. Everything in view was in his control. He even had binoculars installed so he could survey farther. His network of terror reached far beyond the visible territory into the wasteland.

  Even now he smiled as a truck departed across the repaired Rainbow Bridge to spread his power and influence into the towns and communities that lay outside of his gates. He was in complete control. He was the ruler of whatever was left. He was going to get them to change the name of the Rainbow Bridge. It didn’t fit his brand at all and would have to go.

  “The prisoners, Great Lord Invictus,” the Praetor announced.

  Invictus turned away from the open window and watched as the two men, hooded and bound, were dragged across the room and cast at his feet.

  He nodded his approval to the guards, and they forced the two men to their knees before him and ripped the hoods from their faces.

  Invictus studied the two men. The younger one was terrified. Snot ran from his nose, and while it could have been allergies brought on by the hood, Invictus approved of the weak look on his face.

  “Which one is it?” The great lord asked.

  The guard responded by striking the Librarian between the shoulders with the butt of his rifle and knocking him forward on his face.

  The prisoner grunted with the impact and struggled to get back upright.

  “This is the Librarian?” Invictus asked.

  “That’s what he’s been telling people.” The guard struck the man once more and smiled at the grunt he had drawn from the prisoner.

  Invictus bent down and smiled at his captive. “I’m not convinced. I want to show you something.”

  There was a fair amount of grabbing and jostling as both prisoners were wrestled to the ground. Some kicking occurred as the guards lashed ropes through the restraints on their ankles. The screaming started when the two men were hoisted up and dangled a few feet apart outside the tower window fifty stories above the ground.

  The younger of the two all but wet himself as he dangled. He moved between kicking out of panic and complete stillness from fear of causing himself to fall. The other just hung there staring at the overlord.

  “You probably have a lot of questions going through your mind right now,” Invictus said. “How high am I? How long will it take my body to hit the ground? Will I be conscious when I land on the pile of bodies below me?”

  Jerry pointed to the guard with his chin. “Mainly I’m just wondering if Dipshit there is any good at tying knots.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t fall until I want you to fall.” Invictus turned to the guard next to him. “Turn them around.”

  The process was not complicated. Pulleys, gears and a system of ropes were hardly necessary when one had a good poking stick. The guards prodded the prisoners until their backs were to the tower and they were looking out over the view the countless tourists had once paid good money to see.

  “What you see is mine. All of it. Everywhere the light touches. Everywhere the shadows embrace. And beyond that? That’s mine, too. Where there was chaos, I have brought order. I provide security. I provide food. I provide the power that keeps the world alive! And you shitty little wannabe heroes are threatening that.”

  He nodded to the guards, and the poking resumed.

  “You inspire rebellion. You think you’re doing good. But when people rebel, people get hurt. You are the cause of their suffering.”

  “You rape and murder and make slaves of your victims!” the Librarian shouted.

  “A little bit,” Invictus admitted. “To keep the peace. To keep order.”

  Jerry finished spinning and locked eyes with the overlord. “You should get out more. Your order is slipping away.”

  The Great Lord Invictus didn’t display the rage that washed over him. He always found it more intimidating to deliver beatings while appearing calm. There was just something more frightening about it.

  “Your empire is crumbling. You’ve lost your allies out west. Your trucks keep closer and closer to the city. Why? Are you afraid to venture into your own kingdom? You know as well as I do that your
time here is coming to an end.”

  Invictus reached out and grabbed Jerry by his jacket collar. He pulled him closer until their faces were only inches apart and snarled. “I am the conduit for power in the world now.”

  He let the prisoner go and watched as he swung out over nothing. He turned away and began to pace the ledge near the open window. He recited:

  Out of the night that covers me,

  Black as the pit from pole to pole,

  I thank whatever gods may be

  For my unconquerable soul.

  In the fell clutch of circumstance

  I have not winced nor cried aloud.

  Under the bludgeonings of chance

  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

  Beyond this place of wrath and tears

  Looms but the Horror of the shade,

  And yet the menace of the years

  Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

  It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

  I am the master of my fate:

  I am the captain of my soul.

  He had practiced the verse countless times in private and recited it just as many at times like this. It never failed to put the fear of God into his victims. He turned to face the prisoner once more and found him smiling. “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t even understand Invictus, Invictus.”

  “Oh no?”

  “You think it’s about being tough. You think it’s about will over adversity. It’s not about conquering everything. It’s not about power.”

  “Educate me.”

  “‘Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.’ It’s from the Bible, bub. It’s about faith in the face of adversity. It’s about conviction. It’s about doing what’s right when the world is against you. And you know that there’s not a part of what you’re doing that’s right.”

  Invictus could feel the guards around him tense up. They expected that to be the end of the conversation. One word from him, one gesture, and there would be another body on the pile at the base of the tower.