Red Robin: Post-Apocalyptic America

by R. B. Tetro

  “Oh, and one more thing… wasteland warriors… I want to give a special shout out to the heavy hitter’s…wherever you are, and whatever you’re killing. Kill one for me…hell, kill a bunch for me, and keep killing ‘em until it’s finished and then, my truest American friends, I say… come home.

  Good night, true Americans. I am praying for you.

  Hold on, stay strong, and fight on!

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  Scout tried to turn up the volume on his radio but Chains slapped him gently on the hand, shaking his head no. Scout shrugged his shoulders, holding the radio up close to his ear as he moved in time to the music.

  “Hey…,” Basher said, grabbing Scout’s hand, pulling it with the radio over to him so he could listen as well. Blue Oyster Cult was one of his favorites.

  After the song was over and the radio silent they leaned back against their packs while Scout made his way up high up in the rocks behind them to keep watch. Scout was scared to death. His biggest fear was to be captured and taken back to the Keep and tortured again and eaten alive, piece by piece. So he remained extra vigilant, extra cautious, extra- wired for sound. He could hear Chains and Basher, arguing good- naturedly.

  Smiling, and feeling better because they were with him, he pulled out a bottle of brandy, giving it a kiss before breaking the seal and taking a drink. He leaned back his head and closed his eyes momentarily, letting the warm elixir course though his blood stream, calming his super-strained nerves, helping him, almost, relax. He took another swallow for good measure, then pulled out Mr. Mean and set him up on the rocks in front of him, before lighting a smoke, playfully blowing it in Mr. Mean’s face.

  Mr. Mean didn’t appreciate the playful gesture but, in all fairness, Mr. Mean didn’t seem to appreciate anything. Glaring hard at Scout he remained stoic, generally pissed off, as always, causing Scout to frown and secretly wish for a more smiley friend. Maybe Sponge-Bob would be nice, or maybe Patrick, he was sweet but not nearly as clever or tough as Mr. Mean.

  Scout heard the scuff of a human heel on a rock, then a whisper of fabric. The sounds grew closer, until he could hear someone breathing heavy, trying unsuccessfully to be quiet. His heart pounded in his chest. He waited until the figure was just below him until jumping down on its back, his long- knife in hand.

  The cloaked figure whirled and spun, trying unsuccessfully to throw Scout off while he clung on desperately. From the screams of outrage, Scout could tell that it was a woman. “Be quiet,” he managed to say, just before the woman ducked out from underneath him and hit him square in the mouth. He was stunned, and embarrassed to hear Chains and Basher, laughing hard.

  They’d heard the scuffle and come running to help, getting there just in time to watch the frightened woman shrug out from under Scout and knock him on his ass. It took a few moments to get everybody calmed down and Scout under control, before the woman was able to tell them the reason for her midnight visit.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  The town of Dead Stone looked like its name and then some. The only building left standing was the saloon. Everything else had burnt to cinders and now lay in ashes. The smell of blood was in the air.

  After the radio went silent, one by one, the less wounded people started to tend to the more seriously injured people while the rest of them went about barricading the saloon against the next inevitable attack. Poet and Angel were helping the old lady drag the heavy bar tables over to the outside walls so Reverend, Jessie, and Lucas could nail them over the broken-out windows.

  While they worked, a giant Rattle cat sat, closely watching the old lady, making the people a little more than nervous, and a little more than a little confused because up until this afternoon the Rattle-cats would just as soon bite you as look at you. But if it hadn’t been for them and the old lady bringing them there they would all most likely be dead or roasting on a spit over an open fire.

  Looking around the room, Poet noticed their unease. “See you made some new friends,” he murmured.

  The old lady followed her friend’s gaze over to the giant Rattle cat that she’d saved so long ago, far beneath the earth. “Yes… I met him when the ground caved in around me. He was fighting a rock demon. I guess you could say, I sorta helped him out, and then he helped me out, and I ain’t been able to get rid of him ever since.”

  For a little while, the two old friends stared at each other, both at a loss for words. “I missed you,” the old lady said, gently touching his ruined face.

  “Welcome back from the dead,” Poet said warmly.

  They embraced. The old lady chuckled a little. “Not quite the land of the dead. More like the land of the buried. I was packed in dirt, for more than a minute. To me that was the worst part of it.”

  “Oh…is that all,” Poet teased.

  The old lady snorted. “Yup, no big deal...” Angel came up and joined the hug. The old lady smiled when she saw the wedding ring on her finger. “I see you two tied the knot without me.”

  “Had to…she wouldn’t stop asking,” Poet joked.

  “You guys gonna stand around catching up all day or do you think you could give us a hand?” Reverend teased. He stepped over and hugged the old lady, only his hug was different, and the old lady seemed to be hugging him back a little differently than she’d hugged Angel and Poet. Jessie and Lucas joined them and they were all smiles while they watched Reverend and the old lady hugging.

  When the two of them realized they were over-doing the hugging they both pushed each other away abruptly, which caused them all to laugh. That’s when the rumbling started, and the fear came back to their faces and the saloon came alive with fighters and people trying to take cover, because no one knew what the enemy had that could rumble like that; and no one wanted to know.

  The rumbling started from far away and came closer, faster and faster until it was deafening. The building was shaking. Then it stopped. Everyone in the saloon froze, anxiously holding their breath, straining to hear anything. Then they heard a lot of heavy footsteps and someone knocked politely on the door.

  Everyone held their breath. A few seconds passed and Reverend said, “Yes?”

  “Name’s Butcher. Red Robin sent us to show you guys the way across the Griddle,” a deep voice with a Texas drawl answered from the outside.

  Reverend looked through a crack in the door. He saw a tall, thin, grey- skinned man, dressed in dusty, blood- stained motorcycle leathers with two, hefty meat cleavers and a pistol stuck in his belt. He was staring right back at Reverend through the crack in the door with disturbing yellow eyes. “Can you open up, please? We had to kill our way in here, and their not too happy.”

  Reverend grinned. As far as he could see in any direction were chrome choppers with armed bikers on them. “Of course! I just had to be sure.”

  Lucas came with a hammer and pulled the nails out the shelfing that was nailed over the doorway.

  Butcher was so tall he had to stoop to come into the saloon. “Name’s Butcher… we’re here to help you guys out, compliments of the Red Robin.

  “What if we don’t want any help? How do we know you’re not working for Magnus just like the council of the Cavern of the Light,” Lucas challenged the unknown new-comer. With one look- that Butcher didn’t miss- the old lady told the jaded, young man to mind his manners and he did.

  “Glad to have the help. Thank you,” Reverend offered his hand to Butcher.

  Butcher was still looking at Lucas, but he took Reverend’s hand and shook it and nodded that things were okay. One by one, the survivors who were able came and welcomed Butcher and his well-armed riders. They offered them food-which they would not accept after seeing all the children who looked much hungrier than they were.

  It touched Butcher and his men and it didn’t take long for the true American rebels and the outlaw biker gang from Hog Trough to become fast allies. If ever the feeling of strength in numbers was felt, it was that night. It was a time of reunions and well- met new friends a
nd despite the fact they were surrounded by Blood-eyes and Snogs they decided to celebrate being alive.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  After Daniel regained consciousness he was able to make out Pops and Juggernaut chained beside him. His right eyelid was split and swollen shut, he was pretty sure his left hand was ruined and he had more than one broken rib. He tried to leverage himself up to a semi-sitting position, but was overcome by pain and nausea and decided to remain lying in a curled up ball on his right side.

  His beating had been better than average, but if Frank was hoping to torture any information out of Daniel, he was torturing the wrong person. Daniel had been tortured by the best in the business. He’d been water boarded one time for well over an hour and not told his captors anything. Finally, Frank had grown bored with the whole thing and locked Daniel and his friends in a deep pit in the middle of the campground.

  “You’ll be handed over to Magnus tomorrow… so all your bravery will come to nothing!” Frank shouted down to Daniel before turning for the saloon.

  Now there was only silence, and the sound of Daniels labored breathing and the grumblings of the two unfortunate guards who’d been left behind to make sure Frank’s prize prisoners didn’t escape. It was almost four in the morning when the guards finally succumbed to exhaustion and Pops and Juggernaut could start to earnestly feel around the buried cage for a way of escape.

  It was not a fruitful search. The cage was lowered into the ground and the only way out of it was if it was raised out of the hole it was in and the only door on the side was unchained.

  Daniel had succumbed to sleep and Pops and Juggernaut were speaking softly when they heard soft footsteps above them. “Hey, you guys gonna lay around here all night?”

  Pops and Juggernaut were on their feet immediately, instantly recognizing Chain’s voice. One of the guards woke up and started to shout. They could hear the wet pop of someone breaking his neck, and then the cage began to rise out of the hole.

  Scout was on lookout duty while Basher turned the winch to raise the cage, holding it while Chains unlocked the door with a key he’d found on the dead guard. Pops stooped to pick up Daniel who was still sleeping, but Juggernaut pushed him gently out of the way and bent over Daniel, easily picking him up; like he was no more than a child, carrying him up the street behind the rest of the group.

  Daniel’s eyelids fluttered open. He saw Juggernaut’s face and realized that he was carrying him and managed to smile before slipping back into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Reverend, Poet, the old lady, Butcher, Chloe and Angel accompanied by Onyx, of course, were standing in a tight circle just outside the bullet- riddled, bat-winged bar doors, speaking in hushed voices. It was decided that they would leave in the middle of the night with a small force of them staying behind to engage the enemy if necessary to buy the escapee’s some precious time to move the wounded.

  On that part of the plan, they’d all agreed. It was them who were going to stay and fight and them, who was going to help the others escape that they were arguing about. Finally, it was decided that Lucas and Jessie would lead the survivors away and toward the Griddle while the others stayed behind to fight. Most of the arguing was between Poet and Angel. Poet wanted her to go and he stay, and she seemed to think she would be better served staying and Poet leaving with the main group.

  The rest of the group watched, smiling, as the two of them debated then argued over who was to go and who was to stay until finally, after looking at the old lady and winking, Reverend raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay you two, you both will stay behind… and you if you want?” he looked at the old lady.

  The old lady chuckled. “I’m staying, and I have a hunch my Rattle Cat friends will want a piece of the party as well.” An ominous rattle came from the shadows of the walkway, startling them all except for Reverend.

  “I guess that’s that then,” he said, still having a hard time getting used to the Rattle cat’s being on their side.

  “You bring your friends and I will bring my mine,” said Angel. Out of the darkness, further down the burnt-out street came more than a dozen wolves; head low, sniffing for enemies. They formed a circle around their little group.

  Butcher looked at the Rattle cat’s, then the wolves and back at all of them. “You guys are crazy, and your friends are crazy and this whole freakin world is crazy and the worst part of it is… for the first time in my miserable life, I feel like I belong somewhere. Count me and my riders in.”

  Reverend and the rest of them nodded and smiled. “How about you bring half your men with us and leave the other half behind to lead the way?”

  Butcher frowned. He didn’t like the idea of splitting his club up, but there it was, and he knew it was the way that it was and that was that. “Okay…let’s do this.”

  Reverend put his hand in the middle. Everyone noticed the old ladies hand was the first one to cover it, but not one of them smiled or mentioned it. Instead, one by one, they put their hands in the middle of the circle over each other’s hands. “Father in heaven…ruler of the universe. We are in our darkest hour. Look down on us and protect us and give us the strength to kill them all. Amen.”

  As one, they all said Amen, and each of them felt a little better because there aren’t any atheist in foxholes- as someone once so aptly put it- and they were damn sure right.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Frank was shot and bleeding and ready to fall off his feet. They’d been chasing him for hours and as strong and elusive as he was, he couldn’t lose them. Stumbling forward, he came down hard on one knee, yelping and cussing in one breath.

  Should have killed the blue-eyed warrior when I had the chance, he thought. But he hadn’t and after he had sent word via messenger to the Blood-eyes that he had the man in custody who’d managed to kill the infamous General Blood, he had gone on to torture him, trying to gain information. He figured he would present this info to Magnus himself. He knew, like the rest of the smart, civilized knew, that Magnus was taking over and it was either fit in or get put in to some Blood- eye’s mouth.

  Frank had seen it coming for a while, so he’d taken the initiative and offered his services and considerable connections and information in exchange for a sort of uneasy agreement that Magnus and his blood-crazed army would leave him and the campground alone. In his heart, Frank knew it was bullshit, and he had to admit he’d actually started to admire Daniel and had been thinking about throwing in with him.

  Matter of fact, he was on his way to talk to him about that, when he was met half-way by a group of Magnus’ elite soldiers who’d demanded to know where the prisoners were. Frank had managed to kill some of them and escape with the help of his men, but now he was tired and hungry and he decided that it would be better to just stop and turn around to face his enemies.

  He decided to kill as many as he could and to do one thing right in his life by dying like a man. He hefted his sword and lit a smoke. As they came into sight he flicked his cigarette towards them and hollered. “If you want me… come and get me!”

  He managed to kill two and wound two more before they caught him. And then they tied him up and put him over a fire and roasted him like the pig he’d always been.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  Scout couldn’t help but remember his time at the Keep, as he looked down at Daniel. He could still feel the pain of the torturer’s whip and the smell of death all around him. For over a year, Scout had been imprisoned there and probably would have died there if it hadn’t been for his friends. “Take him to Red Feather is what we will do, he can’t go much longer, before he is through.”

  “He can take a beating. I’ll give him that much,” remarked Juggernaut. He stopped for a moment, and readjusted his hold on Daniel’s limp and broken body. The rest of the group kept watch, all of them smoking while looking around on high alert.

  “Last time we seen Red Feather he was threatening to kill you on a count you neve
r squared with him on that card game,” Juggernaut teased.

  Scout whipped around and looked up at Juggernaut. “This much I know, is all that I know. I will show you the way but I will not go.”

  Juggernaut emphatically shook his abnormally large head. “Oh no…I ain’t going up there all by myself…”

  Scout shook his head and laughed. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

  “You owe me twenty silvers, two blankets and two bottles of brandy,” a deep, booming voice startled them. Before they could blink they were surrounded by ten, well-armed, Native Americans.

  “Pay you I was going to,” Scout tried to explain.

  Red Feather stood looking down at Scout with a serious look on his face. He was tall and built powerfully, but old, very old…older than any of them had ever seen a living human being. “I see you’re still doing that rhyming thing…interesting,” he said to himself.

  Scout smiled and bowed gracefully.

  Red Feather couldn’t help but smile. The exact amount of money Scout owed

  him was unclear because of the fact that the night of the card game, he, Scout, Juggernaut and Lucky went through a case of brandy. Scout had definitely lost the card game but that was about all any of them could remember. So, each time Red Feather saw Scout he would add to the list of things Scout owed him. “You and I will settle later, friend. He snapped his fingers and two of his warriors came and carefully took Daniel from Juggernaut.

  Red Feather turned and motioned for them to follow him. More than likely, somebody was going to come looking for the blue-eyed soldier man who’d killed General Blood.

  CHAPTER NINETY