Mega Post-Apocalyptic Double Bill

by Mark Gillespie

  “You can’t go any further,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” Eda asked, trying to get past them so she could look around the corner. “What’s going on for God’s sake? Who’s doing all that shouting?”

  The other gardener – pale-skinned and with frightened blue eyes – pressed a finger tight to her lips.

  “Not too loud,” she said.

  Eda scrunched up her face in confusion. There was no way anyone on 42nd Street was going to hear them talking. She forced her way past the two women, just enough to poke her head around the corner and see what was going on for herself.

  She looked down 42nd Street towards Grand Central.

  “Holy shit,” she said.

  There was a brown horse pulling a small wooden cart with massive spoked wheels. The cart was parading back and forth in front of the station entrance like it was performing in a parade.

  Eda crept out further. She slid around the corner, all the while getting closer to the action. She ignored the faint protests of the women behind her.

  She had to see this.

  A fat, heavily bearded man stood up in the driver’s seat of the cart, holding the reins and yelling wildly at the top of his deep voice. He bellowed an ear-splitting command to the horse and it turned left, spinning the cart around yet again. The cart then raced back along the center of 42nd Street over the faded white lines that had once divided traffic. Now that she was closer, Eda saw something at the back of the horse-driven vehicle.

  Two dead bodies.

  She gasped.

  The corpses were attached to the cart by two long stretches of gnarled rope tied around their legs. It was two women and they were lying flat on their backs, their arms outstretched in a cross-like pose. Their bodies shuddered violently on the wet road as they were repeatedly dragged up and down the street.

  “What the fuck?” Eda said. “What is this?”

  Further back, a large group of about thirty men stood at the side of the road. They were dressed in a variety of torn rags and even from a distance, Eda could see – she could feel – the ravenous, inhuman look in their dead eyes. Their long hair and thick beards made them look like a pack of wild animals that had just crawled out of the woods.

  Eda looked back at the two gardeners. They were still hovering at the corner of the street. The Asian woman gestured with her hand, urging Eda not to go any further along 42nd Street. Her pale-skinned friend looked like she was about to be sick.

  A gentle rain began to fall.

  Eda looked up at a black, starless sky and smelled a fresh, earthy odor in the air. Another big downpour was imminent.

  The man driving the cart let out a loud, primal roar that would have been heard for miles across the city. He was like a conquering barbarian and he roared with unrestrained laughter as he continued to drag the two corpses behind his rickety chariot like a pair of mangled trophies. The bodies were covered in dirt, bruises and patches of dried blood – it was hard to discern their features and even harder to guess how long they’d been hooked up to the cart and how far they’d traveled like that.

  Eda turned back to the gardeners. They were gone.

  She looked at all the men gathered in close proximity to the station. She hadn’t seen so many men standing in one place, not since she’d been a child. It was a miracle of sorts, albeit an unwanted one. Linda had been right – the ambassadors were out there in the wastelands telling the world all about the Complex and the Project.

  But at what cost?

  Further down 42nd Street, the cart finally rolled to a stop close to the station entrance.

  “Where is she?” the fat man bellowed. He was still up off his seat with arms stretched out, displaying the sheer enormity of his girth for all the world to see. Like the other men, he was dressed in worn, colorless rags.

  “Where’s your beautiful queen?” he cried out. “Where’s Helen of Troy?”

  The man roared yet again and then clumsily stepped off the cart, landing on the damp road. He lifted his head towards the falling rain, opened his mouth and caught a few drops on his tongue. When he’d tasted enough, he smacked his lips together like a contented animal.

  “Where is she?” the fat man called out. He took a look at the empty streets and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “There’s no need to hide from me ladies of the Complex. Your friends here told us all about your little community in the heart of NEW YORK, NEW YORK!”

  He sang the city’s name in a strange warbling melody.

  “You have food, women and purpose,” the fat man said. “But you’re incomplete. You need men. Well, your wish has been granted and it’s all thanks to the brave efforts of your dead messengers right here. They found us a long way away from New York. They told us about your Project and the matter of reconstruction. We’ve traveled a great distance to help you – won’t you come out and say hello?”

  He laughed and turned to face his wild-looking colleagues further down the street. They were still standing in the rain, watching everything happen with a chilling silence.

  “Some things don’t change,” the fat man said, gesturing to his comrades. “Civilization has crumbled, the human species is teetering on the verge of extinction but a woman will still – STILL – keep a man waiting.”

  Eda’s fingers gripped the wooden handle of the dagger. She crept closer still, keeping in the darkness at all times.

  There was a sudden flurry of movement.

  Somebody stepped out of the station’s main entrance.

  Shay, dressed in her bright red rain cloak, walked slowly towards the center of the road. She moved in a ghostly silence. Seconds later, a few other women followed her out of the station and approached the unexpected, late night visitors.

  Shay stood facing the fat man who greeted her with a cold, menacing grin. The other women quickly formed a tight semi-circle at their leader’s back.

  “What took you so long?” the fat man said.

  Shay pointed to the two corpses tied to the cart.

  “Why did you kill our ambassadors?” she asked. Her voice rang out loud and clear as if she wanted everyone in the vicinity to hear her. “They traveled this land in peace, seeking nothing more than to find volunteers for the Project. There was no need to harm them – no need to kill them.”

  “Wrong,” the fat man snapped. He pointed a finger at Shay’s face. “Your ambassadors tried to murder us in our sleep. Before that they tried to steal food and water from us. You know, you should be careful what sort of people you use to represent you. If you send out thieves and murderers, well, it might give the wrong impression.”

  “Whatever the initial act of wrongdoing was,” Shay said, “we both know that it wasn’t committed by my people.”

  The fat man smirked. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  There was a pause.

  “I’m calling you a cheap bandit,” Shay said. “You’re all bandits and you’ve come here to loot and destroy what I’ve worked so hard to build. To take what isn’t yours.”

  “That hurts my feelings,” the fat man said. He looked almost sincere.

  “Oh really?” Shay asked. “Well if you haven’t come to steal and murder, then why are you here?”

  “I want everything your messengers promised and more,” the bandit said. “You have food and gardens, am I right? You’ve got water. You’re organized and most importantly, you have women everywhere. Thank you God! Granted, most of them are a bit old and saggy around the edges but beggars can’t be choosers, not in the United States of Armageddon. I hope however, that Helen is a lot more attractive than what I’m seeing out here. Is she? Please say yes.”

  “You want to breed with Helen?” Shay said.

  “Breed?” the bandit said, roaring with laughter. “Of course I want to breed. It’s going to be glorious. We’re going to rebuild the world together, take the human race back to its former glories. And to do that we’re going to need people – lots of people and that means a lot of breeding.”
/>   “What about the curse?” Shay said.

  The bandit shrugged. “What curse?”

  Eda heard Shay laughing from afar.

  “Do you think I’m impressed?” Shay said. “Do you think anyone here is impressed when you play the fool?”

  The man smiled and tapped a finger off his forehead three times.

  “I remember now,” he said. “Your ambassadors did say something about the curse and how Mother Nature was pissed at us. They talked about a lot of things – a low sex drive, painful orgasms and a childless, barren world – blah-blah-blah. To be honest, I had no idea what they were talking about but they said if we came all the way here to New York and successfully bred with Helen that we’d be the heroes of our fledgling species. That we’d be treated like kings for the rest of our lives. Can you defy the curse? That’s what they said to me.”

  Eda could see the back of Shay’s head nodding slowly.

  “Have you had intercourse lately?” she asked.

  “Not lately,” the bandit said. “Had your messengers over there not insisted on fighting to the death I would have tested your curse out on them. Now I’ll be the first to admit that my sex drive isn’t what it used to be but that’s only because of all the chemical shit floating around in the air. And it’s also because I hardly ever see a woman these days. So trust me when I say that right now, looking at you all, I’m horny as hell. I’m going to ask you again – where’s Helen?”

  “Let me tell you something,” Shay said, taking a step towards the bandit. “If you have an orgasm you’ll die. And it’ll be a terrible, terrible death like nothing you could ever imagine. I’ve seen it so many times now.”

  The man roared with laughter. “You know something lady,” he said, “you remind me of a Sunday school teacher I had a long time ago. Good to see all that fire and brimstone shit survived the end of the world, you know?”

  Shay lifted the hood of the rain cloak over her head.

  The bandit’s hand moved to the hilt of a short sword hanging off his belt. His fingers tapped the handle in a slow, contemplative rhythm.

  “Maybe I’ll take you as one of my wives,” he said, examining Shay from head to toe. “Yeah, I like you. It could be Helen for sex and you for conversation afterwards. Because I get the feeling you’ve got a big set of balls swinging under that red coat of yours sweetheart. And I like that.”

  He looked at the huddle of women standing at Shay’s back.

  “C’mon,” he yelled. “Don’t look so worried ladies. Think about the positives here – you’ll be a lot safer if we stick around. I speak from experience – there are bad people wandering about out there nowadays. Not many it’s true, but the ones that are out there, they’re sick in the head. Almost everyone you’ll meet has been driven mad by hunger and loneliness. And they’re always on the move. It’s only a matter of time before they get here and find your little Complex. When they do, you’ll be glad you’ve got us to protect you.”

  The fat man raised a hand in the air.

  At this signal, the other bandits began to walk slowly towards the station. As they got closer to the old building, Eda noticed that they were all carrying the same type of short sword as their leader. At the head of the pack, a giant man swaggered with loose, simian limbs flapping in the breeze. He had to be at least seven foot tall and his extreme height combined with a sturdy build and straggly brown beard, made it look like a grizzly bear was running loose in New York.

  Someone else caught Eda’s eye.

  She saw a younger man hanging slightly apart from the others. He was probably about thirty or a little older. A mop of dark curly hair flopped over his forehead. In contrast to his heavily bearded comrades, there was only a thin coat of boyish stubble growing on the man’s face. He looked like a stranger in the crowd, like he didn’t belong with the others. As he walked at the back, his eyes darted around with uncertainty. Several times, he glanced over his shoulder like somebody who knew they were being watched.

  “You don’t want to fight us,” the fat man said to Shay. “Look at my boys back there, right? They’re battle-hardened and as mean as a pack of rattlesnakes. And we don’t want to fight you either. All we want is to be part of one big happy family together. Is that so bad? We can do great things here in the name of reconstruction. Will you let us in nicely? Peacefully? Or do we have to force our way in? It’s entirely up to you.”

  Shay stood in silence for a moment. The horse made a fat snorting noise and tugged on the cart, as if it was eager to move along and start dragging those corpses up and down the street again.

  “You’re right,” Shay said, nodding slowly. She pointed a finger at the advancing bandit pack and her shoulders appeared to drop a little. “It would be foolish of us to try and fight you.”

  “No,” Eda whispered from the shadows.

  The fat man moved his hand away from the hilt of his sword. “Good girl,” he said, patting Shay on the shoulder. “Smart girl too. I’m definitely claiming you as one of mine.”

  “Take what you want and go,” Shay said. “Take the food. Take a woman – but just one if you please. Don’t kill us or damage our supplies – don’t destroy everything that we’ve worked so hard to build here.”

  “Destroy it?” the bandit said, looking genuinely surprised. “You have me all wrong sister. I don’t want to destroy anything – I want us to build a beautiful world together. Together. We’re staying, we’re not going anywhere.”

  He stepped forward and slid a chubby finger down Shay’s cheek. The finger kept going until it slipped inside the rain cloak and landed on Shay’s pale neck. The fat man then pulled at the cloak, opening up a small gap between the fabric and Shay’s skin. He leaned forward, staring down at Shay’s body, all the while licking his lips.

  “I’m going to like it here,” he said, his eyes lighting up.

  He let go of Shay and turned to his left. It looked like something had caught his attention over by the station.

  Whistling loudly, the bandit walked towards a row of flowerbeds lined up neatly outside Grand Central. He leaned closer to inspect the assortment of vegetables growing there and when he was done, the bandit turned around and nodded his approval.

  “You’ve been busy,” he called over to Shay. “Well done. I take it you gals know how to cook this stuff as well as you grow it? Oh boy, busy, hardworking women – just like my Angie back in Philly before she went batshit crazy.”

  Shay walked towards the bandit. It looked like she was gliding over the center of the road.

  Eda saw the bandit’s hand instinctively reach for the sword at his waist.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, coming to a sudden stop. “Yes, we’ve been busy. In fact, you’ve no idea how busy we’ve been here in our dear Eldorado. But it would give me great pleasure to show you.”

  Shay looked up towards the night sky.

  “Now,” she said.

  Eda heard something – a brief, high-pitched whoosh that cut through the sound of the pouring rain. It was followed by a loud, yet muffled shriek.

  She saw the fat man staggering backwards away from the flowerbeds. He was bent double, one hand reaching for something on his head.

  Then he dropped onto one knee.

  There was an arrow lodged in his neck.

  4

  More arrows rained down with lethal precision.

  The bandits were thrown into a sudden, desperate panic. Most of them ran for cover in the abandoned buildings opposite Grand Central. A few however, charged boldly towards their leader who by now had collapsed onto his back in the middle of the road. But it was too late to help him. The fat man’s saucer-like eyes stared blankly up at the dark sky, his mouth like that of a dying fish, opening and closing, gasping for breath.

  There were people shouting everywhere. Angry, frightened voices filled the night.

  Eda tried to stay small. She was still tucked in at the edge of the street, clinging to the old storefronts that were cloaked in darkness. After mov
ing forward a little, she looked up and saw a shadowy line of figures standing on the Park Avenue Viaduct, which extended outwards like a ramp or a bridge above the street level entrance to Grand Central.

  The archers.

  “Yes,” she said, throwing a fist in the air.

  Most of the bandits realized that the sudden attack was coming from the viaduct. It was too late for many of them to get out of the way. Eda watched as an older man with a mop of straggly gray hair, stood in stunned silence, staring up at the long row of female assassins. He yelled something to the women, something that sounded spiteful, and then seconds later took an arrow in the heart.

  A woman’s voice bellowed out the command ‘FIRE’. This happened every five seconds and Eda, still looking up towards the viaduct, realized that there were two lines of about ten archers standing on the bridge. These two lines were taking it in turns to shoot at the bandits down on the street. After the front row had fired, they’d immediately duck down and pull another arrow from a quiver that was fastened onto their backs. During that brief interval, the second row of archers would stand up and fire into the crowd. This was repeated over and over again.

  It was a massacre.

  Eda felt a rush of blood surging through her veins. She squeezed the handle of the dagger and gently stabbed the sidewalk several times.

  If the fighting hit the ground, would she take her place alongside the other warriors in battle?

  Could she do it?

  Eda had killed a man, a long time ago. It happened when she was still very young, several years after the war ended and everything was turning upside down in a world gone mad. This was before the curse, back when some of the more vicious men, roaming the streets in either large packs or as lone wolves, were raping and plundering at will, taking full advantage of the swift decline of the police and military influence. Losers became winners. Outlaws became kings. For those people, the end of the world was the greatest party there ever was.

  She killed him in a city but she couldn’t remember the name of it. It didn’t matter.