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

by Benjamin Wallace

  “Librarian.” It was the only thing Jerry had ever heard him say calmly. “It’s over.”

  A tank crashed through the tree line in front of them and separated the trio. Jerry fell back as the machine’s treads tore up the ground where he had been standing. Mud and diesel filled his face until the vehicle had passed. What it left behind horrified him.

  Lucas screamed at the body left behind. Crushed and bloodied, the voice of reason among the warriors’ quartet was no more.

  Over the gunfire and cannon rounds, he heard laughing. Lucas turned and saw the man they had known as Connor standing at the edge of the street. “I was tired of hearing his shit. Weren’t you?”

  Lucas drew and fired without a word.

  Connor shrieked and grabbed at his leg as he collapsed to the ground.

  Lucas was on the kid a moment later, bashing away at what only moments before had been a young face free of scars.

  Abandoning reason, Jerry wanted to join in, but before he could stand he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned with a fight in mind but saw a child at the end of the hand. He recognized the kid from the bar on the other side of the river.

  “You need to come with me,” the kid shouted.

  “What are you— You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  “Pride said to get you out if things went bad. Come with me.”

  “Get out of here!” Jerry said and got to his feet. “I’ve got to do something.”

  “You’re the Librarian. They can’t catch you. They just can’t.”

  A second tank crashed through the woods and barreled toward him. An army of men marched behind it.

  It was lost. They had rushed Lucas and it would only be a matter of seconds before they spotted him.

  Jerry scrambled out of the way and followed the kid down the hill to the shoreline. The child led him through the trees, under the Rainbow Bridge, always seeming to know when to duck, when to wait and when to run. They made their way upriver as the sounds of the war faded behind them.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The boy led him up the shore into the mist. The rocks, frozen and slick, were made passable only by the addition of a rope that had been driven into the cliff face sometime in the past. It was too loud to talk, and the mist was too thick to see. He lost sight of the boy several times and for minutes at a time.

  The rope finally ended and he found the kid waiting in a small metal boat, waving him on. He got in and followed the boy’s gestures to strap himself to the seat. It was going to be a rough ride.

  They were tossed about violently as the kid maneuvered them out into the plunge pool. At one point the boat was all but upended. Sitting in the bow, he saw the kid rise almost directly above him, still tied to his seat. They settled back into the crest of a wave. The child seemed unfazed.

  It was impossible to see where they were going. Wind drove the cold spray about them and clouded their path. The cold urged him to shut his eyes lest they freeze. He fought to keep them open and twisted his head to see where they were going.

  Gusts of wind whipped the mist around in sheets, occasionally clearing a view farther downriver. That’s when he saw their destination, the pile of derelict ships rusting in the middle of the plunge pool.

  They were almost thrown onto the pile. As they neared, a wave lifted them up and crashed them into the hull before sliding back down into the water. It took several attempts before the boy secured a grappling to the pile and began to pull them in.

  They lashed the boat to the ship and they crossed the slippery deck to a sealed hatch. It wasn’t any warmer inside, but the wind stopped and he finally felt he could breathe again.

  “This way,” the boy said, and started down the uneven hallway.

  “This seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”

  The boy didn’t answer but led him through a hole in the hull to another ship and into a room where Chewy was waiting.

  The dog barked and rushed to Jerry.

  “Chewy! What are you doing here?”

  “I brought her here,” the boy said as he started a kerosene heater. He handed Jerry a blanket. “I didn’t want her to be alone in the motel room.”

  It was the same room where he’d first met the Bookkeepers. The work lights had been righted and for the first time, Jerry actually saw the efforts of Gatsby’s work. An entire shelf of glass jars lined the wall, each filled with different shades of pee.

  The boy saw him looking at the shelf. “It’s weird, right?”

  “It’s weird,” Jerry said, and took the blanket. Then the two sat on the floor with the dog between them, soaking up the heat from the kerosene burners. They sat in silence, petting the dog.

  There was only one thing to think about: Eli, Joshua, maybe Lucas and how many others were dead in the failed assault. Damn tanks. Damn Resistance. Where did they think they were going to go? As far as he knew, there wasn’t an evacuation plan. It had been all or nothing to finally take down the tyrant. But he would be the first to admit he may not know everything. Where was Gatsby running?

  They sat in silence for what felt like hours. He played the battle over and over in his mind. All they had to do was buy Fahrenheit and Pride the time they needed to take the tower.

  “You’re really him, aren’t you?” the boy finally asked.

  Jerry saw hope in the kid’s eyes. Still. After what had happened. It was a perfect opportunity to say something reassuring, but all he could do was sigh and nod.

  “I knew it,” the kid said. “So what do we do now?”

  “Nothing!” Gatsby snarled as he kicked open the door to the room. He had several armed men with him. Omoo and Typee walked in quietly with the group. Gatsby pointed at Jerry. “He’s not going to do a damned thing except leave.”

  Chewy raced across the room and buried her head in Jerry’s lap, making his rise to meet Gatsby awkward as he stumbled backward.

  “What the hell was that up there! You called a retreat!”

  “You’re damn right I did. It was the only way to save my people.”

  “How? There was no way out. You just got them killed.”

  “The rafts, numbnuts. That was always the plan. Ride the rafts downriver.”

  “Through the rapids?” the boy asked. “That’s suicide.”

  Gatsby hesitated. “We lost a lot of good people.”

  “You idiot,” Jerry said. “You sacrificed them for your cowardice.”

  “I saved the Resistance!”

  “You handed Invictus the war!” Jerry collapsed into his chair, exhausted. He should have known he was fighting the war on two fronts. Gatsby had been cowed but the little shit hadn’t stopped being a problem.

  Chewy did what she could to comfort him.

  “What about Fahrenheit and Pride? Did they make it to the tower?”

  “Oh they made it all right. In chains. Invictus dropped Fahrenheit twenty minutes ago. Pride is set to ride the falls. Along with that other idiot that caused this mess.”

  “Lucas?”

  Gatsby shrugged. “If you say so. All of you piles of shit look the same to me.”

  Jerry stood up again. “We have to save them.”

  “We’re not doing anything!” Gatsby shouted. “You don’t make the decisions anymore. We tried listening to you and look what happened. We got our asses kicked. Fahrenheit’s dead. Pride is captured. All of our planning, years of planning. Gone!”

  “And your new plan is this? More hiding?”

  “Invictus is tearing up the city looking for us,” Omoo said. “We have to lie low.”

  “Forget that. We’re getting out of here tonight,” Gatsby said.

  “You’re giving up?” It sounded like a question. But it was an accusation.

  “Giving up?” Gatsby laughed. “We were beaten. This wasn’t a failure of strategy. It was an unbeatable foe. No one turned on us. No one betrayed us. Invictus is just too strong. And now he has tanks. We’re better off running and hiding in the wasteland.”

&nbs
p; “He’ll find you.”

  “No he won’t.”

  “He found me,” Jerry said. “He’ll hunt you down. All of you. He will have his revenge. It doesn’t matter what it costs him.”

  He could see that Gatsby knew it was the truth. “This is your fault.”

  “You gave up!”

  “We couldn’t win!”

  “We could. And we still can. We have to stop that ship from going over. The people will see it. They’ll rise up. There’s more of us than there are of him.”

  “Stop it,” Gatsby said calmly. “Just stop it. Your speeches didn’t work on me before and they won’t work on me now. We can’t save them. It’s a trap.”

  “Of course it’s a trap,” the Librarian said. “That’s no reason not to go.”

  Gatsby grew flustered. It wasn’t in a coward’s mind to see possibility. “Maybe I should explain to you exactly what a trap is?”

  “So they die?” Jerry said.

  “So they die,” Gatsby said.

  “You’re such a coward.”

  “So what if I am?”

  “Cowards are why Invictus rules. How many times was there a chance to stop him in the past? Hundreds? Thousands? But the coward said no, ‘the odds are too great’ or ‘he’s too strong.’ A knife. A bullet. That’s all it would have taken. One brave moment to spare a thousand lives and a million nightmares. You’re a coward. You refused to act. You held your people back. You are complicit in every murder under his rule.”

  Gatsby looked at the remaining members of the council. They refused to look back. This enraged him. “We were doing something.”

  “Planning isn’t taking action.” He dropped the blanket and looked at the kid. “I’ll show you what doing something is.”

  The Librarian turned his back to Gatsby and took a step toward the door, and Gatsby waved for the others to block the exit. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t want to do this, Gatsby. You’ve already lost one fight today.”

  “I’m going to finish this one.”

  Jerry didn’t hear Gatsby draw the gun, but he heard the slide rake back.

  “Chewy.”

  It was a startled scream at first, but Gatsby’s cries turned to pain as Jerry heard the dog lunge and latch on to the man’s wrist. He sprang at the nearest soldier, grabbed the barrel of the man’s rifle and pulled him forward. His fist and the momentum twisted the guard’s head sideways as Jerry turned and clubbed another with the rifle.

  Typee and Omoo weren’t foolish enough to stand in the way. They backed away from the door and waved Jerry through.

  Gatsby grabbed him from behind and spun him around. He grabbed the rifle with both hands and shoved it against Jerry’s chest. The force drove the Librarian against the wall. Blood flowed from Gatsby’s wrist and curses spewed from his mouth. It was a pure animalistic rage that flashed in his eyes. He growled. “You ruined everything. This was my army. This was my resistance!”

  Jerry let go of the barrel and reached out to his left. His hand found a shelf and a row of jars. Gatsby was screaming something foul when he shattered the jar on the man’s face.

  The shock hit him first. Then the pain. And then finally the realization that he was now covered in his own piss. The sound he made was OofAarrfrghAhhhhhh! And then crying.

  Jerry stepped through the wooden door into the slanted hallway.

  There was another guard waiting for him with his rifle leveled at Jerry.

  The Librarian didn’t raise his weapon. He just stared at the man and kept walking.

  The guard pulled the rifle tighter to his shoulder and opened his mouth to start barking commands. But he didn’t. He lowered the rifle a fraction of an inch and spoke. “Was that Gatsby screaming?”

  The Librarian nodded.

  “You going to go get her?”

  He nodded again.

  The guard lowered his gun and pulled an automatic from his waist. He handed it to Jerry as they passed in the hallway, and stepped aside.

  He reached the hatch without further incident and began to work the latch when he heard the kid behind him.

  “No, kid.”

  “I need to show you the way.”

  “No.”

  “They’re on the boat now. They’ll be sending them over soon. There isn’t any time.”

  “No.”

  “There’s a way up. I’ll take you to it.”

  He looked back at the kid. The child was standing next to Chewy, patting the dog’s head and sending her tail into all sorts of bliss. The kid had gotten him out of Alasis. Maybe it was the only way to get back in.

  “I won’t have to shoot anybody,” the kid pleaded. “I promise. You won’t be corrupting any youth. I swear.”

  They unlashed the boat and set it back in the water. He held Chewy tight as they motored to the American side of the river near the base of Bridal Falls. The trio stepped onto shore and the kid explained the path.

  He pointed to a series of crumbling decks that lined the cliff’s face. “They called it the Cave of the Winds. But there isn’t a cave anymore so I don’t know why. But there’s an elevator at the top that takes you to Goat Island.”

  Jerry knew he could find the boat from there. He had seen it on his earlier trip through town. He also knew there was no way his friend could follow. The decks were crumbling and had collapsed in several places. If the elevator wasn’t working, he would be forced up service ladders.

  He bent down and scratched the dog’s head where she liked it. Behind the ears, on top of her nose and the wrinkly skin on the side of her face. “Looks like it’s just going to be me this time, girl.”

  The dog licked his hand.

  “Stay with the kid, okay?”

  Chewy barked. But there was no enthusiasm to it. She continued to bark as he began the climb.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  By the time his climb was finished, Jerry emerged from the elevator shaft to dimming light in the sky. The Falls were lit in an array of colors with powerful floodlights. Across the river, he could see Invictus. The Great Lord was fifteen stories tall in full regalia on massive screens that hung from the side of the casino tower. His voice boomed everywhere on the island.

  “—you dare rise against me. I have provided you with safety, food, warmth. Purpose. That you should take arms against me is folly, as those accused quickly learned.”

  The boat was on the far end of the mostly wooded island. Jerry dashed across the parking lot and ducked into the woods. The coming darkness would make it easier for him to remain unseen, but he would still have to be cautious. It was definitely a trap.

  “As I have built this empire, we have recognized great traditions. It seems fitting that those that tried to bring down all that we have built should be forced to honor one of our greatest traditions.”

  The camera cut to the ship moored at the far end of the island. Pride, Lucas and several others were hooded and bound to the ship’s rail.

  “These traitors to our cause will ride the Falls to prove their innocence. If they survive the fall, they will have proven their worth. They will have served their sentence.” The dictator couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of anyone surviving.

  It wasn’t without precedent. Several people had gone over the Falls with nothing more than a prayer of surviving and walked away with little more than a scratch and the world’s greatest tale to tell. Some had fallen in. Others had jumped with the hope of ending it all. One had attempted suicide only to find that he survived. Several years later he attempted to take the plunge again with the intent of finding fame. That time, however, it did kill him, proving that experience wasn’t really a factor in living or dying.

  One thing all of the survivors had in common was that not one of them had been lashed to a boat by a sadistic post-apocalyptic dictator. Not one.

  In the history of Alasis, no one had yet to be found innocent in a trial by falling boat.

  The camera cut back to Invictus. “Justic
e separates us from the animals in the wasteland, and everyone deserves to be tried. We still have room for more.”

  Jerry ducked into the woods and started running. The trap was on the boat. That’s where Invictus wanted him. He wanted to show everyone the death of the Librarian. The city had pinned its hopes on the myth and if he could kill the man, the people would fall back in line.

  He reached the improvised dock and kept running. It didn’t look as if it was guarded. They expected him to rush right on. He’d spring the trap, but he was going to do it when he was ready. He kept running and didn’t make for the shoreline until he was further upstream.

  Invictus wasn’t letting up on the rhetoric. The speakers continued to play his horrid voice as he went on about his greatness, how unappreciative the people were of his greatness, but how, in his greatness, he would give them all another chance—if the Librarian was delivered to him before the ship went over the Falls.

  The water was freezing. Pain shot through his legs. He could feel each individual vein go cold. He ignored the pain. He ignored every signal his body gave him to get out of the water. As if he had a choice.

  The current took him. It was too strong to fight. All he could do was go with it and direct himself as best he could. If he didn’t aim just right, he’d be over the Falls in a matter of minutes.

  The fishing trawler was moored at the outer edge of Three Sister Island and came up quicker than he expected. He hit the hull with a thud and began looking for something to grab onto. The current pushed him against the boat and he had to fight from being pulled under as he inched his way to one of the mooring lines. The rope was taut enough that he could hang from it and not cause any noticeable difference on the ship itself.

  He told his hands to climb, but it took several seconds before his fingers got the message. Even his nerve endings were running on willpower at this point. Everything else was frozen. He eventually got his legs up on the rope and began the crawl.

  His clothes weighed a ton. They had never felt so wet. He stripped his jacket off and let it fall into the river. It wasn’t doing him any good at this point. He was shaking so badly that he now realized his plan was shit and he was just going to end up giving Invictus what he wanted.