Mega Post-Apocalyptic Double Bill

by Mark Gillespie

“Sport?” Eda said, pointing a finger at Goldman who was still hanging onto her shoulder. “He can barely stand up.”

  Torres glared at her.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she said. “After sunrise.”

  The commander turned her attention to Mr. China. She spoke to him and the Chinaman listened intently, his stoic expression never wavering. Torres might as well have been reading out a dinner menu. When the commander was done, Mr. China spoke back in a deep, reflective voice. Torres’ response to whatever he said elicited a spark of excitement in the old soldier’s eyes. Eda wondered if Mr. China had just realized he was getting another chance to kill the American.

  Goldman doubled over again, coughing into the back of a clenched fist.

  “He can’t fight,” Eda said, her eyes pleading with Torres. “For God’s sake, look at him will you?”

  “Bet your ass I can fight,” Goldman said, wiping the spit off his chin. He let go of Eda’s shoulder. “And I will.”

  Torres watched their exchange and smiled. The angry scar under her lip twitched like a living thing.

  “Nothing is going to stop this duel from taking place tomorrow,” she said. “But I’m not a monster Eda, no one is going to force you to watch. This sort of entertainment isn’t for everyone.”

  “And what about me?” Eda said.

  “You already know what’s in store for you,” Torres said. With that, she turned around and spoke to the soldiers at her back. This announcement in the foreign tongue was met with a blistering cheer of approval from the invaders.

  “And they know too,” Torres said, turning back to Eda. “Unlike the duelists, you’re a plaything that can be used more than once.”

  Eda shook her head and took a step back. At this, one of the grunts leapt out of the crowd, rushing past Torres and charging straight at Eda. He made some kind of animal, snorting noise as he caught up with her and grabbed Eda’s raincloak at the waist. He pulled Eda off balance and reeled her towards him with the cloak. She staggered forward. When she was close enough, the grunt reached at her with a claw-like hand and grabbed Eda’s breast.

  He twisted hard, hissing with satisfaction.

  Eda shrieked at the sudden jolt of pain. She reached for her belt but the katana was gone.

  The puffy-faced grunt watched her grasp at thin air. With a mindless laugh, he crept forward again.

  There was a blur of movement at the grunt’s back. Torres drew the dagger on her belt and rushed at the man. Her attack was lightning fast – a dizzying swirl of arms and steel. A loud slicing sound was followed by a shrill, sudden gasp.

  Eda backed off, retreating further up the rocky beach. Her head was spinning, her heart racing. When she regained her focus she saw Torres’ dagger embedded deep in the grunt’s throat. A stream of dark blood gushed out of his mouth. It flowed down his chin, splashing onto his collar and upper torso. Eyes bulging, the man reached for the blade while staggering backwards on rubbery legs. The other soldiers got out of his way fast as he moved past them, edging closer to the water. There was neither sympathy nor excitement on the faces of the spectators as they watched him go.

  The dying man tipped over, landing on the rocks. His face was by now a yellowy shade of pale. With a gasp, his red hands clawed towards the sky and then his body convulsed as he spewed out a series of violent choking noises.

  It felt a long time before he stopped moving.

  Torres walked over and with a single sharp thrust, pulled the dagger out of the grunt’s neck. There was a wet squelching noise as the blade came free.

  The commander wiped the bloody dagger dry on the deceased’s uniform. She then examined the blade with a bored expression before walking back over to the prisoners.

  The crowd parted quickly as she went past. There was a collective look of bug-eyed fear on their faces, like they were in the presence of something more than just a woman.

  “You will be a plaything,” she said looking at Eda. “But when I say so, not them.”

  She jerked a thumb towards the grunt pack.

  “The older ones grew up during the occupation of my country,” Torres said. “Back then the American soldiers thought they could do anything to the local girls and get away with it. And they could. But that’s not how I run things, they know that now.”

  “I guess so,” Eda said.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance,” Torres said, taking a step closer to Eda. “Do you want to be a toy? Or would you rather be our advisor? That offer stands for another ten seconds.”

  Eda looked down at the rocks that littered the beach. She could still hear the wet gurgling noise the grunt had made as he’d choked on his own blood.

  “I can’t help you,” she said.

  Eda heard the air coming out of Torres.

  “I won’t ask you again,” the commander said. “No matter how much you beg for it in the days, weeks, months and years to come. Okay? I’ll see you tomorrow for the sport Eda.”

  Torres turned around and walked back to the boats. On her way she exchanged a brief conversation with the young officer who Eda had taken for her twin brother. He nodded his head as Torres spoke to him.

  The majority of grunts returned to the boats in silence. This was in stark contrast to the boisterous entrance they’d made not long ago. Two of the grunts went over to the dead man and grabbing him by the arms and legs, began to haul him towards the boats.

  The young officer stayed behind along with ten grunts. He stood on the shoreline watching as the speedboat engines fired up. Moments later, Torres and her unit were on their way back to the mainland.

  By now the sky was dark grey, fading to black. With a heavy step, the officer walked back towards the prisoners, his cap pulled low over his forehead. On his way he muttered a few words to two of the grunts walking alongside him. The grunts set off, hurrying over to a small tent about a hundred meters further down the beach. Eda watched as they went inside and then a minute later, came out carrying a large block of firewood each. The wood was dumped into a rickety old, wheelbarrow parked beside the tent. The men repeated the maneuver, going in and out of the tent for the next five minutes, filling up the barrow with wood.

  “Feeling the cold?” Goldman said, as the officer came within earshot.

  The young man pushed his cap up and smiled.

  “Yes,” the officer said in his strange accent. “A little.”

  As the soldiers prepared a fire on the beach, the officer showed Eda, Goldman and Mr. China to their quarters in one of the larger tents that had been set up elsewhere on the island. The tent, which was shaped like a tunnel, was located uphill on a stretch of dirt and grass, far from the water.

  “It’s not much,” the officer said, holding the entrance flap open for the captives. “But it’s better than sleeping outside.”

  Eda walked in, followed by Goldman. Mr. China lagged a few paces behind. There were a large number of worn down, filthy sleeping bags scattered across the groundsheet. At a push, about twenty people could have slept inside the tent.

  “So we’re stuck in here all night?” Goldman said. He was looking at Mr. China with a quiet loathing as he asked the question.

  The officer stood at the door, a tall shadow, close and yet somehow distant. Eda couldn’t equate all those brightly colored war medals on his uniform with the soft-spoken young man standing in front of her.

  “You’re all most welcome to come and sit by the fire tonight,” he said. “There’s plenty of food and water and tea. It’s my job tonight to take care of you.”

  He repeated all this in Chinese. Mr. China responded in a calm, muted voice, bowing his head once.

  “Our friend here is hungry,” the officer said, looking at Goldman and Eda.

  “Friend?” Goldman said, spitting out a chesty cough. “How about you put my friend in a different tent tonight? Or us for that matter. Chink son of a bitch is going to strangle me in my sleep. Who knows? Maybe I’ll do it to him first. And then where will your commander’s
precious duel be? Huh?”

  The officer shook his head. “The situation has been made clear,” he said. “If he tries something like that he’ll be crucified. So will you. The commander is quite fond of that particular method of execution so I urge you to take note. Now on the other hand if you’re both willing to wait about twelve hours before trying to kill each other there will be a reward involved. Win a fair fight tomorrow morning and you’ll be set free.”

  “Torres is really going to let the winner go?” Eda said. “Just like that?

  “She will,” the officer said. “And then she’ll try to hunt him down afterwards. The victor gets a head start on the mainland and that’s all he gets. I’m sorry. Now, will you be joining us at the fire tonight?”

  Eda looked at Goldman.

  “You have to eat something,” she said.

  Goldman glared at the man in red.

  “I don’t want to break bread with that bastard,” Goldman said. He turned back to the officer at the tent door. “Tell me this son, why can’t we just duel now and get it over with?”

  “Money,” the officer said. “Back at Fort Independence there’s a lot of excitement being generated about tomorrow. For most soldiers, good quality entertainment is few and far between and the commander needs this event to keep up the morale. Conquering is a strangely dull affair most of the time.”

  “You’re eating something,” Eda said, nudging Goldman with her elbow. “You don’t have to look at him okay? Just eat, drink and rest before tomorrow. Think about it this way if you have to – you’ll kill him better on a full stomach.”

  Goldman said nothing.

  “We’ll go with you,” Eda said to the officer. “Thank you.”

  The four of them went to the fire and sat down. It was a tiny oasis of light burning in the vicinity of the harbor islands. From the sky it would have been no more than a dot of bright orange shimmering on the beach. The flames crackled and spat, kissing thick beams of maple and oak. The ocean was so close that at any minute Eda expected to feel the water rushing over her legs.

  The heat drifting off the fire was divine. Eda put her hands out to soak up the flames and she sighed. At last, some comfort.

  A couple of grunts came over and passed four plates of food around the fire. After that, the officer dismissed them and Eda watched as the two men walked down the beach with plates in hand, eating and talking in hushed voices. She wondered if they were debating on who would survive tomorrow’s duel. Or were they discussing what they’d like to do to the American plaything when it was their turn to play?

  “Some rice,” the young officer said, poking a fork around his plate. “Beans. Vegetables. Let me pour you some hot tea too.”

  He put his plate down, got up and went around the small group, pouring a steaming hot liquid out of a metal pot into the cups the captives held out. Eda drank the tea and it was glorious. It felt like another fire, this one being lit inside her.

  “What’s your name?” she said, once the officer was sitting down again. “You’re related to Torres right? Are you guys twins or something?”

  He smiled.

  “The commander is my cousin,” the officer said. “My name is Manny Torres and I’m a colonel in the Third East Coast Unit. That’s this unit, the one based out of Fort Independence.”

  “How many units are there?” Eda said.

  Manny stared into the fire. “A lot.”

  “They’re all over the east coast,” Goldman said, chewing slowly on his food. “Aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Manny said. “And the west coast.”

  Goldman nodded.

  They sat in silence while they ate. Eda devoured the food, thinking about Frankie Boy and wondering where he was. Although she missed him terribly, she was glad he wasn’t with her. The grunts on the highway would have shot him if he’d stuck around. Running was the smart move.

  Goldman was having a tough time getting his dinner to stay down. Every second mouthful was spat back out in a violent coughing seizure that lasted for about ten seconds. When the coughing was over, the old man would groan and apologize for putting people off their food.

  Manny put his plate down and turned to Goldman. “Have some water,” he said, pouring out a cup and handing it to the American. Goldman took the water with a grateful nod and forced it down the hatch in one go.

  “Damn this getting old shit,” he said, putting the cup down.

  The redness in his face was less angry.

  “He can’t fight,” Eda said, looking at Manny. “You can see that right?”

  “Don’t you start,” Goldman said, patting his chest down. He was watching Mr. China on the opposite side of the fire. The two enemies eyeballed each other through the flames. “If it’s the last thing I do on this earth – and it probably will be – I’m going to shoot that bastard and watch him die.”

  “Bullshit,” Eda said. She took a sip of tea and listened to the fire. “You can barely stand up without help.”

  Goldman grunted, but said nothing.

  “So your country didn’t fight in the war?” Eda asked, turning back to Manny.

  Manny shook his head.

  “We stayed neutral,” he said. “That was always our official position. The government didn’t listen to the international threats or to all the talk that there was no neutral – not in this war. Still, we wanted no part of it. Let America and China and all their warmongering allies fight to the death. A poor nation like ours – we sent no soldiers and offered no allegiance to either side. That didn’t stop the Americans from invading though. The occupation lasted for…well, more years than I can remember.”

  “What was it like?” Eda said.

  “The American soldiers tried their best to build a little America on our homeland,” Manny said. “And they did a good job of it for a while. My people were second-class citizens, pushed off their most fertile land in great numbers. My parents lost their home. The commander’s parents too. But our new masters, they didn’t realize how organized the common people were. Early on they’d established a sophisticated chain of secret networks. The rebels stole weapons from the Americans with surprising ease and began a large-scale guerilla war against them. In the end the rebels won because they had the support of the people. But victory came at a great cost. No family that I know of escaped the suffering and certainly not mine or the commander’s. However, unlike so many other nations in the great global war, we hadn’t been bombed. We were intact. And so we could rebuild. Grow strong.”

  Manny sipped at his tea and the fire reflected in his eyes, giving him a supernatural appearance.

  “And it was always the plan to come here?” Eda said.

  “Like most of the people back home,” Manny said, “my cousin wants to take this country. Even though China is much closer to home, this is what we want. America. All we have to do is clean it out, claim it as one of our territories, and rebuild.”

  “Pauper nations,” Goldman said, staring into his teacup. “We always knew you’d come.”

  “Yes,” Manny said. “So did we.”

  Eda looked at Manny. “You don’t seem like the soldiering type to me,” she said. “If you don’t mind my saying.”

  Manny laughed softly.

  “I wanted to stay home,” he said.

  “Won’t be hard for you lot to conquer this country,” Goldman said gruffly. “There’s no one left to fight. In fact, I’m surprised it took you so long to get here.”

  Manny smiled. “We are a cautious people. It took a lot of effort and planning just to ship everything here.”

  “You got fuel?” Goldman said. “Right son? Got enough food and ammo?”

  “Those were the priorities, yes.”

  “And you’ve got the numbers,” Goldman said. “By God you’ve got the numbers…”

  Goldman’s body jolted forward. He lapsed into a ferocious coughing fit and dropped his plate, spilling the contents all over the place.

  Eda hurried over and put an
arm around him. “Goldman,” she said. “Are you alright?”

  He couldn’t answer.

  Manny jumped to his feet and called the grunts over from the other side of the beach. They arrived in less than a minute, their guns pointing at the jerky figure of Goldman. Manny pushed the guns away and then gave the order. The grunts nodded, then pulled the still coughing Goldman up off the ground. Taking an arm each they led the old man away from the fire and back towards the tent.

  “It’s alright,” Manny said, gesturing for Eda to sit down. “They’ll make him some tea and put him to bed. He won’t be harmed, I swear. The guards will take it in turns to stand outside your tent all night should he need anything.”

  Eda flopped down in Goldman’s space. She looked at the scattered food items – a mix of rice, beans and chopped green vegetables – and realized that Goldman hadn’t eaten much, if anything at all.

  Across the fire Mr. China sat in silence.

  “He can’t fight for God’s sake,” Eda said, turning towards Manny. She could hear the desperation in her voice. “Can’t you see that?”

  “I’m very sorry,” Manny said, gazing into empty space. “But there’s nothing I can do about that now.”

  “Yes there is.”

  He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “What?”

  Eda took a deep breath.

  “Well,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. She leaned closer to Manny. “It’s America versus China isn’t it? If Goldman can’t fight then it’s no big deal. All you need is another American to take his place.”

  She tapped a finger off her chest.

  “See anyone like that around here?”

  Manny sighed but he didn’t look surprised.

  “Why would you do that?” he said. “Let the old men finish their war Eda. Let it end, for God’s sake.”

  “No,” Eda said. “Your cousin used the word sport. Sport means a fair contest, or at least that’s what it should mean. You know? Let me take Goldman’s place in the duel tomorrow morning. It’s still America versus China and that’s what they’re betting on back there at the fort. Isn’t it? Who’s to say that Goldman will even make it through the night? What happens to the duel then? Isn’t it better to have a sure thing when tomorrow comes?”