In a shaky voice I say, “I’m sorry, Pocahontas, I truly am. I… we normally don’t do things like this. It’s just I… we…”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Krystal exclaims. “Why in the blue hell are you trying to explain yourself to this bimbo? We’re on an important mission here, Boom Boom, so I would appreciate it if you would get it together!”
I lower my head and mutter, “You’re right. Sorry.”
Lance turns his attention back to Pocahontas. “So what is your dad doing in Antarctica?”
“What the hell do you think he’s doing?” Pocahontas retorts, as if Lance asked the stupidest question in the history of the world. “He’s on the run from assholes like you. He knows if government agents get ahold of him he’s going to be mercilessly tortured for Klaxton’s whereabouts and then executed. He hooked up with some criminal friends of his who do business on the black market. They’re down in Antarctica drilling for oil, natural gas, and precious metals underneath the thawing Antarctic ice sheet.”
“Oil?” Krystal says as she pats the wig on the top of her head. “Why the fuck are they drilling for oil? We stopped using that shit for fuel almost 100 years ago.”
Pocahontas rolls her watery eyes and clicks her tongue in disgust. “Didn’t they teach you anything in school? Petroleum isn’t just used for fuel. It’s used to make plastics, fertilizer, polyester, even laundry detergent. My dad has made a good chunk of his billions from selling petroleum on the black market.”
Krystal puts her hands on her thick hips and says, “Well excuse me for not being a nerd!”
Lance puts his hand up so Krystal shuts up (it doesn’t work, but she does lower the volume of her voice) and says, “One last thing, Pocahontas. This ship your father is on… are there a bunch of men with him? And are they armed?”
A wicked smile creeps across Pocahontas’ tear-streaked face. “Oh yes. The ship houses hundreds upon hundreds of the vilest scum this side of the Prime Meridian. And they are armed to the hilt. I hope you do go after my father so his minions can riddle your bodies with hot lead.”
Lance and I exchange unsettling looks. We had hoped Blackbird would be in some remote hideout all by himself, or perhaps with a handful of loyal bodyguards. We certainly hadn’t planned on storming a cruise ship off the coast of the coldest place on Earth, engaging in a shootout with hundreds of armed pirates. Why can’t anything we do ever be easy?
Lance heaves a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Pocahontas. You’ve been most helpful.”
He then lunges toward Pocahontas and jabs another needle into her neck. Pocahontas yelps, but Lance is quick to clamp his hand over her mouth. Lance grimaces and groans as blood starts leaking through his fingers. Pocahontas must be biting him.
“I should have used my gloved hand,” Lance grunts through gritted teeth.
Pocahontas thrashes around for a few seconds, but then her eyes start fluttering and she stops moving. Her head soon slumps to the side. The knock-out serum is now in full effect.
Lance pulls his hand back and curses as blood continues trickling down his arm. I toss him the towel I used to dry off Pocahontas. Lance snatches it out of midair and wraps it around his blood-soaked hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask, eying the grievous injury.
“I’ll be fine,” Lance says, still gnashing his teeth together. “Although I may need to get a Tetanus shot.”
Krystal stretches and says, “Can we finally leave now? I wanna go home and get some beauty sleep. How else do you think I stay this sexy?”
“I thought it was dark magic,” Lance cracks, prompting Krystal to punch him in the shoulder.
I wave my partners off and say, “You guys go wait for me in the car. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Krystal immediately heads for the balcony. Lance lingers for a moment, then he, too, leaves me alone with the girl I stabbed in the heart.
I lean over Pocahontas’ unconscious body. Her bare chest slowly heaves up and down as she breathes in and out. She looks so peaceful… so different from the terrified young girl I watched being tortured. Is this what has become of us? Is this what has become of me? Have things gotten so bad that I’ve been forced to relinquish my humanity in order to save the world from nuclear Armageddon? Is saving the world even worth it if in order to do so I must embrace the Devil’s playbook?
I lean toward Pocahontas and kiss her on her cheek.
“I’m so sorry I betrayed you like this,” I whisper, blinking back tears. I turn her over so I can uncuff her wrists. I then turn her onto her side and cover her up with a blanket. At least I can take solace in the fact that our knock-out serum will prevent this undoubtedly traumatic experience from becoming a nightmarish memory. Pocahontas will wake up in about twelve hours and have no recollection of what transpired this evening. She will never know that she gave up her elusive father’s whereabouts, even when she receives the news that he’s been captured. More importantly, she will never remember being tortured by our hands… she will never remember that I used our fleeting romance to betray her. She will continue to look up to me, to think of me as a badass bounty hunter who helped topple a corrupt president from power. Hopefully she will never know that I have fallen from grace… that I have become what I always hated.
I brush Pocahontas’ hair out of her eyes and give her one last pat on the head before twirling around and heading out to the balcony. I make sure to close the balcony window shut behind me, then I hop into the back of our hovering Stratosphere XL.
“About damn time,” Krystal says grudgingly as she steps on the accelerator and we zoom through the air at nearly 100 miles per hour. The top of the car is still down, so the cool, gusting wind slams into my face and causes my hair to whip around like crazy.
None of us talk again for a long, long while. Krystal is too busy cutting off other flying cars and flashing one-finger salutes. And Lance sits silently up in the front passenger seat, occasionally glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
It takes us about half an hour to get through one of Sanctuary 41’s many security checkpoints. Once we’ve cleared the sanctuary’s heavily fortified walls, we whoosh over the Canadian countryside, headed for our home in Sanctuary 7.
Once we’re about 30 miles outside Sanctuary 41, Lance turns around in his seat and finally breaks the eerie silence.
“Are you still mad at me, Boom Boom?”
I glare at Lance and scowl. “Of course I’m pissed at you. What you did back there was sick and immoral.”
Lance throws up his hands and says, “Why are you hollering at me? Krystal is the one who was waterboarding her!”
“Oh okay, so I’m the bad guy,” Krystal shouts. “If I recall correctly, you two were the ones who suggested we come to Sanctuary 41 in the first place. I was just fine with staying home and watching my show.”
I ignore Krystal and continue glaring a burning hole through Lance’s skull. “I’m not taking about what Krystal did, even though it was just as despicable. I’m talking about when you tried to electrocute her with your damn glove!”
“I wasn’t going to electrocute her,” Lance says. “We had to make her afraid of us if we were ever going to get her to talk.”
“Yeah, well you could have killed her.”
“I wasn’t going to kill her, Firecracker. I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t think you do. And I also think you’re an asshole.”
Lance narrows his eyes and holds up his gloved hand. My eyes widen at the sight of bluish tendrils of electricity dancing across his fingertips.
I whip out a dagger and point it at Lance’s face. “Really? You’re going to threaten me?! If you ever even think of using that damn glove on me, I will cut out your heart and show it to you while it’s still beating.”
Krystal chuckles. “That would be an awesome way to kill someone. I’ll have to try that sometime.”
Lance and I ignore Krystal as we continue our stare-down.
Lance is t
he first one to blink. He lowers his glowing hand and gazes downward. In a quiet, regret-filled voice, he says, “I would never hurt you, Boom Boom. You know that.”
Still clutching my dagger, I respond, “I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore, Lance. You’ve changed.”
Lance looks back up and defiantly replies, “Well so have you! And so has Krystal. We’ve all changed. After everything that went down in Alaska, how could any of us have remained the same? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Firecracker, but it’s a fucked up world out there. And it’s getting more fucked up with each passing day. We can’t operate like we used to, with a code of honor. If we attempt to show compassion and mercy, we’re as good as dead. All this stuff we’re doing… all the missions we’ve gone on over the years… we’re done it for the kids… for Harpoon and Blade… to keep them safe. And all that will have been for naught if this world erupts in flames. We’re fighting for a better future for them. We’re fighting for a better future for all the world’s children. Remember that, Firecracker.”
As much as I hate to admit it, there is a kernel of truth to Lance’s bloviating. Still, I can’t help but miss the old Lance, the one who would never have even considered resorting to torture to wheedle information out of an otherwise harmless target.
Lance must sense my inner turmoil because he reaches back to gently squeeze my hand. I involuntarily recoil at his touch. Lance notices and quickly pulls his hand back. I can tell my revulsion at his touch has hurt him more than my words ever could.
In a quiet whisper, Lance says, “I’m not the monster you’re making me out to be, Firecracker. I’m just a realist who realizes we may need to do some… unsavory things… in order to locate Klaxton and bring an end to this global standoff. Sometimes you have to be ruthless in order to get results. Dagger taught us that.”
“Your uncle also taught us to show mercy,” I point out.
“Yeah, well Dagger is dead, so being merciful didn’t exactly work out for him, did it? The bastard went and got himself killed, and now we’re all on our own,” Lance says in uncharacteristically blunt fashion. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak of his uncle in this way. Lance always adored the man.
“Lance, I don’t know what’s going on in that screwed up brain of yours, but one thing is becoming increasingly apparent. You are not the same boy I once knew and loved. You have become someone else entirely.”
“You’re right, Boom Boom, I’m not that guy anymore,” Lance says. “That guy died back in Alaska, when his girlfriend was shot out of a plane by the president of the United States. You know, the same president who was responsible for the death of your jackass lover, Arrow.”
Lance’s words pierce my heart like a dagger. He spins around in his seat and goes back to watching the electricity flicker across his fingertips. I turn and watch the Canadian wilderness whisk past us at breakneck speed, creating the illusion of an emerald blur. The rest of our ride back to Sanctuary 7 is endured in stony, icy silence.
Chapter Two: Lance
Once the elevator reaches the 120th floor of our sky-rise apartment complex, I hop out and hurry down the hallway with my bags of groceries. I consider myself a pretty fit guy, but I would challenge anyone to hang onto an overflowing bag of produce while riding an elevator 1,700 feet into the sky. Times like this I really wish we chose to live in a smaller skyscraper (or at least on a much lower floor). But Boom Boom and Krystal love being able to go up through the skylight and chill on the roof. Hell, what am I talking about, I love doing that, too. I definitely enjoy lounging around on my beach chair up on the roof late at night and gazing up at the stars. Am I a hopeless romantic or what?
I just barely make my way past Ms. Madison’s apartment when her door swings open and she thrusts her head out into the hallway. I turn around and struggle not to smirk at the sight of her trademark star-emblazoned nightgown and all the curlers hanging limply from her gray hair. Ms. Madison is the personification of the stereotypical grandmother.
Ms. Madison squints at me through her bifocals. “Lance, is that you?!”
I shuffle the bags uncomfortably in my arms and reply, “Er, yes, Ms. Madison. It’s your favorite bounty hunting neighbor.”
Ms. Madison cackles and says, “That’s bullshit and you know it! You know I like Krystal best of all. However, I must admit you are quite cute. Hell, if I was 50 years younger, I’d mount you in a heartbeat!”
My cheeks flush as I stammer, “Ms. Madison, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like that before.”
“I may be in my 70s but I ain’t dead!” she hollers for the whole world to hear.
I force an awkward chuckle. I guess I should be flattered she apparently wants to “mount” me, but the thought of Ms. Madison’s wrinkly boobs falling out of her nightgown makes me want to vomit. Who knows, though; maybe when I’m in my 70s the sight of wrinkly boobs will turn me on.
Ms. Madison adjusts her steamy bifocals and thankfully changes the subject. “Anyway, I’m glad it was you I heard shuffling past my doorway. For a second there I was afraid you were one of those damn brats from the 70th floor. They like to come up here in the middle of the night and bang on my fucking door.”
“Yeah, they tried that one time with us,” I say, still shuffling the bags around in my arms. “You should have seen the looks on their faces when Krystal ran out in the hallway in her bra and panties, clutching a machine gun. They haven’t knocked on our door since.”
Ms. Madison rubs her stubbly chin and says, “Hmmm… a machine gun you say?”
“Don’t forget the bra and panties,” I add. In fact, I’m pretty sure all Ms. Madison would have to do is to run out into the hallway butt-naked. I sure as hell would never come back up here.
Ms. Madison clenches her wrinkly fist and bellows, “I keep telling their parents they need to whoop their little asses. That would get them in line lickety-split. One thing’s for sure, those little shit-heads from the 70th floor aren’t adorable little angels like your cousins. In fact, Blade and Harpoon are the most adorable twin 13-year olds I’ve ever known!”
“I’m pretty sure they’re the only 13-year old twins you know,” I point out.
Ms. Madison starts eyeing my bags. “Say, what you got in there?”
I make a showing of peeking inside the bag (even though I obviously know what I just bought) and casually reply, “Oh you know, the usual… some salmon, vegetables, Italian bread, ice cream…. Boom Boom is making dinner tonight.”
I look up and notice drool trickling down Ms. Madison’s stubbly face.
“Er, I could bring you a plate later if you’re hungry,” I propose.
Ms. Madison waves me off. “Oh no, don’t worry about little ole me. I’m sure I’ll find a spare can of cat food in my cabinet.”
Almost on cue, Ms. Madison’s elderly cat, Bonnie, peeks her gray head out the doorway and meows.
“No need for you to eat Bonnie’s cat food,” I say, backing away toward my door. “Trust me, it’s no bother. It’s the least we can do, what with you always watching the kids while we’re away and all.”
Ms. Madison shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right, it is the least you can do. Especially since I’m supposed to watch them again tomorrow night.”
Ms. Madison squints at me again and says, “You know, I thought after that fiasco in Alaska that you and the girls would stop your crazy bounty hunting shenanigans. But in the past two months I think you’ve gone on more missions than you did all of last year!”
Continuing to back toward my apartment, I say, “Yeah, we’ve been pretty busy as of late. But I have a feeling things will start slowing down here soon. So anyway, I’ll bring you a plate later.”
Ms. Madison smiles, revealing her crooked false teeth, which look like they’re on the verge of spilling out of her mouth. “Okay, Bonnie will be happy we’re not sharing another can of her food again.”
Bonnie meows in response before they both retreat back into their apartment and sh
ut the door.
I shake my head in mild amusement and use my foot to bang on the front door to my apartment. While I wait for someone to open up, I think about how lucky we are to have Ms. Madison so readily available to watch the kids. We need her help now more than ever, especially since Krystal’s poor grandmother passed way last month. We used to always rely on her to watch the kids while we were out, but last month she succumbed to the illness that had been plaguing her for the better part of a decade. The Reaper finally came calling, and when he does, there’s nowhere to hide. I especially feel bad for Krystal. She’s been trying to act tough these past few weeks, but I know the loss of her last remaining family member has been weighing heavily on her mind. I know how I felt when my uncle died. It was like a suffocating cloud of darkness had descended upon my soul. It took a long, long time for me to adjust to the fact that I no longer had a “grownup” to run to whenever my problems spiraled out of control. I had to grow up fast. I’m about to turn 19 here in a few months, but it feels like I’ve lived several lifetimes. Hopefully if we find Klaxton… when we find Klaxton… me, the kids, and the girls can start living a normal, peaceful life... a life that will seem almost boring in comparison. That’s the ultimate dream.
World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2) Page 5
