Penny’s loudspeaker crackles to life, but the Guardian’s voice does not follow. Instead, the sounds of a struggle and a strange gurgling hiss drifts through the air. Seeing this as their chance to escape, the pair rush toward the jeep and toss their loot into the backseat. Clambering inside and slamming the doors, a pain-filled shriek erupts from the loudspeaker before someone smashes the device. Glancing out their windows, the travelers barely see a flailing figure plummeting off the top of the distant hotel. Even though the travelers know that a sniper rifle would be useful, neither of them feel a temptation to loot Penny’s body and hideout.
“Guess it can’t get any worse after this,” Lloyd declares as the jeep starts and heads down the road.
“If you think you’re a character in a story then you know that’s a terrible thing to say.”
“I do, but I really want something else to happen.”
“Can we please get to Interstate 80 without another disaster?”
“Sure, but you’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Seatbelt.”
“Shut the fuck up, Lloyd.”
You’re in Our Armies Now
Cassidy and Lloyd sit on the hood of the jeep while the two groups of armed locals carefully check the vehicle. Disarmed and guarded by a pair of machinegun carrying soldiers, the pair can only wait for an opportunity to escape. There is tension in the air as the men and women try to do their job while watching each other. One group is dressed in gold and black fatigues, which make them stand out in the forest instead of blending into the scenery. The green and dull silver uniforms of their enemies are only slightly more effective, both squads having their faces and guns painted to match their army colors. Every soldier has their last name stitched onto their jackets, the patch sealing a pocket that holds the rest of their vital information. It is obvious that most of them were regular citizens before the collapse, which gives Cassidy and Lloyd a glimmer of hope that they can get away soon.
The real danger are the squad leaders who are hanging back from their hard-working soldiers. Standing in matching poses, they keep their arms crossed and watch the prisoners for signs of trouble. The huge man with blonde hair and a sleeveless uniform of silver and green routinely adjusts his stance to copy his rival. White steroid patches are on his veiny muscles, which flex whenever he adjusts his assault rifle. Something about the giant makes him seem less of a threat than one would expect from a person of his size, but only those who have seen real battle can sense the façade. In contrast, the slightly out of shape man with a black, military-style haircut shows signs that he is a veteran. He favors his right leg, the knees trembling if he stays in the same position for too long. Not wanting to come off as dangerous, he keeps his rifle on his back and his handgun remains in its holster. A black and gold painted hand grenade is clipped to his belt and he lets his hand routinely falls to rub the explosive.
“We’re only passing through,” Cassidy finally says for what must be the tenth time in the last hour. Seeing the towering leader snort and spit at a tree, she assumes she will get the same response as her previous attempts to negotiate safe passage. “We aren’t citizens of Pennsylvania, so your war doesn’t involve us. Just let us be on our way. I can even take us north to New York, which shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
“I’m still confused on what’s going on here. Probably because the explanation happened during the break,” Lloyd admits, earning strange looks from the surrounding soldiers. Gazing at a soldier’s watch, he licks his lips at the thought of night being only four hours away. “Never mind. Can somebody just tell me again about this whole civil war? It doesn’t make any sense, especially since you guys aren’t shooting each other.”
“As a Petty Officer, I have the highest rank. So I’ll do it,” the towering man states, cracking his knuckles and taking a step closer. The squad leader backs up when he notices Cassidy is eyeing his large handgun. “Sergeant Noah can add anything that he wants, but we all know those from Pittsburgh are liars. That’s why this war is going on. Philadelphia should be the true capital of Pennsylvania. We have the best trade system, which your precious factories would be useless without. This superiority is also why my squad should get the vehicle, weapons, and new recruits.”
“For the last time, we are evenly ranked, Firestone,” Noah replies, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Having had multiple encounters with the other man, he has to remind himself that starting a shootout could damage the much needed supplies. “Philadelphia still has riots and burned down their own ports. That’s why all of the trade is over land through Long Island and New Jersey. You people are self-destructive, which is why my city should be the capital. Just look at how you’re claiming everything in an attempt to start a fight. We should be fair and split things evenly. My men and I have seen enough bloodshed today.”
“And mine are still hungry for battle,” Firestone replies like a fictional warlord. Unknown to him, all of his soldiers nervously cough and stop themselves from correcting their aggressive leader. “I will leave you the food and other items. Seeing as we got here first, the bulk of the spoils should go to us.”
“Can the spoils in question have a say in this?” Lloyd asks, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers. The serial killer hops off the hood and straightens his shirt, the green-skinned monster on the front appearing to challenge anyone who looks directly at it. “The truth of the matter is that neither of us give a fuck about your problems. Who wants a soldier that couldn’t care less about the war they’re fighting in? Better to save yourselves some grief and pain by letting us go instead of making us mad. Besides, after escaping two rhinos and a sniper while in our underwear, this part of the journey feels rather tame.”
With a visible limp, Noah walks to the jeep and sits next to Cassidy. He smiles at the young woman and signals for his men to stop rifling through the vehicle. Offering a granola bar to the prisoners, he shrugs when both refuse the food. Not wanting to seem like the bad guy, Firestone barks orders for his soldiers to take a break. Taking a handful of food off the top of the gathered pile, the muscular petty officer snaps his fingers for his men to follow his example. Watching the two squads, the travelers can see the gulf of difference in their mannerisms and skill levels. It is a bizarre contrast because the men working under the boorish Firestone appear hardened and experienced, but cowed by the presence of their leader. Those who follow Noah are meeker and most of the Pittsburgh citizens hold their guns in awkward positions unlike the more militaristic form of the Philadelphians.
“Almost be a shame to kill them,” Lloyd whispers before returning to the jeep. The sound of several guns taking aim causes the man to put his hands behind his back. “I was only looking for something to help restrain us. Not a fan of guns, so you don’t have to worry about me grabbing any of your new toys. Ah, here’s the utterly harmless objects I was looking for. Consider these two sets of handcuffs a peace offering. My companion’s mother gave them to her, so they’re family heirlooms. She prefers the more battered one if you get my meaning. Not that meaning, but that she would appreciate you using this one on her.”
“Why would we restrain either of you?” Noah asks as he takes the manacles. The smell of oil and perfume makes his sinuses ache, the pain subsiding when he takes a drink from an old canteen. “You are to join our armies. I do apologize for this being a harsh welcome to our ranks, but you have to understand our situation. Very little trade comes into Pennsylvania due to the war and rumors about our beautiful state. Thanks to travelers causing trouble and exaggerating the situation, we have a reputation for being a state full of bandits and thieves. So your supplies are desperately needed.”
“Not to mention your bodies since our cities are starting to run out of willing and able soldiers,” Firestone interjects, the man refusing to sugarcoat the truth. When he sees the threatening scowl on his rival’s face, he spits at the older man’s polished boots. “Don’t pussyfoot around the facts, Sergeant. These tw
o should know that they’ll be fighting for one of us. If you’re so determined to split things evenly, I claim the woman and you can get the wimp who hates violence.”
“He definitely wouldn’t make a good soldier,” Cassidy claims, ignoring the belly-aching laughter from Lloyd. Holding out her hands to get cuffed, she stares into Noah’s green eyes and does her best to smile sweetly. “Except splitting us up is a mistake. My friend and I have been traveling for a while, so we’re better as a team. That means only one of you can claim us. Since you don’t want to fight, I would suggest handing us over to Firestone. Think of your men, Sergeant, and help them live to fight another day.”
“Or hand everyone knives and fight to the death over us,” Lloyd says with a grin. Snapping his teeth at a nearby soldier, he puts up a small struggle when Firestone takes the remaining handcuffs and restrains him. “The point is that splitting up our duet would make us rather useless and you want your side to get real soldiers. As far as I can tell, both side aren’t that impressive and I’d hate to decide between you. It’d be like choosing either diarrhea or the stomach flu. Two different holes, but the same level of grossness.”
Noah stares at the black-haired traveler, a look of disgust plastered on his face. Something about the traveler is familiar, but the soldier’s exhausted mind cannot put all of the pieces together. The shuffling of booted feet and shifting of guns draws his attention to the Philadelphians. Following their leader’s example, they are preparing to fight while the Pittsburghers wait for Noah to make a similar order. Being so close to the jeep and the restrained prisoners, the veteran knows a battle would be too costly. The fact that Firestone is determined to cause bloodshed makes the older man’s temper roil, but his training helps him remain clear-headed. Sliding off the hood, he calmly takes the grenade off his belt and removes the pin without releasing the safety lever. Lloyd is the only one excited to see the unexpected threat, the serial killer enjoying the smell of fear and several people wetting their pants.
“We can solve this without bloodshed, Firestone, and you know it,” Noah claims, drawing his handgun with his other hand. Showing that the safety is still on, he keeps his thumb on the switch in case his words fall on deaf ears. “The jeep, weapons, and travelers are too valuable to put in harm’s way. Now the young lady could be lying about their usefulness as a team, but it could very well be the truth. Last thing either of us wants is to come away from this with broken spoils and fewer soldiers. Split a coin in half and both sides are worthless is something my dad used to say. Not sure why, but it makes sense here.”
“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting then that’s a long walk,” Firestone argues, waving for his people to lower their weapons. A shudder runs through his body until he tears off an old steroid patch and angrily slaps on a fresh source. “I guess we can keep them in the jeep, but one of my men will drive. It would make carrying all of the spoils easier.”
“What are you talking about?” Cassidy interrupts, her patience hanging by a thread. Getting off the hood, she frowns when she sees several fresh scratches on the blue paint. “We’re practically in the middle of Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. Last I heard all of the surviving towns were turned into military bases. There’s nowhere to fucking go to solve this, so stop wasting our time and let us go. As my friend said earlier, we don’t give a shit about your war and only want to continue on our way.”
Firestone lunges forward to shove the young woman against the car, stopping when he hears the click of Noah’s gun safety. “You can present your arguments to the Judge. He or she is an impartial elder who listens to all sides. They help us handle these small issues, but only if the two sides agree to visit. You realize that the closest one is in Punxsutawney, right? That Judge tends to take a bigger payment for his services than the others. I’d rather travel further south and reach the one in Hershey.”
“I vote for the first one!” Lloyd announces, stopping Noah from openly accusing his rival of choosing an easily bribed Judge. The serial killer grins while twisting over the cuffs, putting his hands in front to scratch his nose. “Better to get this over with, right? I mean, the longer you keep us hostage and not lay down the law, the more chances we’ll get to escape. Punxsutawney is the best choice.”
Cassidy chuckles while Firestone scowls and Noah nods in agreement. “You’re thinking of the fucking groundhog, aren’t you?”
“Do you honestly think I would travel to a place with the sole purpose being to kill a lying rodent who has probably been eaten by now?”
“Yes.”
Lloyd nudges the nearest soldier with his elbow as he says, “she knows me far too well.”
*****
Noah and Firestone stay in the jeep with the prisoners while their soldiers march alongside the slow moving transport. The ten men and women keep their weapons ready, neither trusting the other squad. The floodlights atop the vehicle are on to help them traverse the forest, the cloudy sky making the wilderness even darker. Various animals and random Wilders retreat from the bright beams, only two of the bulbs working due to the third being previously damaged by Penny. Sprawled on the hood of the jeep, a dead deer has been strapped down and marked with the black and gold of Pittsburgh. The soldier who nabbed the large buck is proudly carrying the antlers, which are awkwardly sticking out of his backpack. Those in the Philadelphia squad try to ignore the man’s arrogant grin and cocky strut, but their rumbling stomachs make the possibility of cooked venison hard to be ungrateful for.
Cassidy mutters under the gag that has been placed over her mouth to stop her complaints about the wasting of gas and battery power. She is handcuffed to the headrest of the seat in front of her, which is where Noah calmly rests with his eyes closed. Unwilling to be quiet, the young woman continues her tirade even though nobody can understand what she is saying. Several times she merely wants to let off some steam and is really angrily singing the lyrics of the last song that came out of the deceased CD player. Her muffled voice becomes one of panic when Lloyd doubles over and groans in pain, his knees pressing against his stomach. Nobody else pays attention until the serial killer releases a foul stench that fills the jeep, forcing Firestone to stop for an evacuation.
“What in the world did you do?” the towering man asks, his eyes tearing from the smell. He refuses to let Lloyd out of the jeep, keeping him inside at gunpoint. “I don’t know what kind of trick this is, but it isn’t funny. Some of us will have to keep this vehicle and we don’t want it smelling like an outhouse.”
“Sorry, but I suffer from irritable bowel syndrome. Though I prefer to call it spastic colon because that sounds cooler,” Lloyd replies, moving to unleash another fart out the door. With a groan, he curls into the fetal position and collapses to the ground. “It gets really bad when I’m stressed or haven’t had much water. Hydration is always important when your innards have a habit of getting tangled. I should be fine if I can relieve the pressure. Just let me go into the woods and do my business.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?” Firestone asks, the noxious smell making him feel queasy. “I should shoot you now and end this. Who wants a soldier that can give away their position like this?”
“Don’t do anything drastic,” Noah says as he comes around the car. He points at one man from each squad and snaps his fingers. “We’ll each send a soldier to escort him to wherever he needs to go. Two armed men should be more than enough to handle the situation. The alternative is to waste time arguing, which would end with us being more tired or him making a mess in his pants. They only have two rolls of toilet paper in their supplies, so I’d rather not waste them on whatever this is. Do you agree?”
Too tired and nauseous to argue, Firestone nods and signals for a different man than the one Noah chose to escort Lloyd into the forest. The trio disappears into the trees as their companions search the bags for something to clear the smell from the jeep. One of the female soldiers from Philadelphia offers a bottle of perfume that does the job, b
ut leaves a white stain on the black cushion. Cassidy curses as she is put back in the jeep and cuffed to the headrest again. Soon after she is secured, a gunshot rings out from the direction Lloyd and the two men went. Both squads raise their weapons without knowing what to aim for until they hear someone stumbling through the bushes.
His black and gold uniform smeared with blood, the Pittsburgh soldier walks into the light and raises his hands. The broken handcuffs are dangling from his thumb and he is gasping for air. A shiv is jammed into his ribs, but the simple weapon is not touching anything vital. The pain is still enough to drive him to his knees where Noah catches him. Unable to speak loudly, the soldier whispers in his squad leader’s ear before struggling to stand under his own fading strength. Another shot echoes throughout the forest and the man topples over with the last thing he sees is Firestone’s smoking handgun. The two squads immediately aim their weapons at each other while Sergeant Noah remains in a crouch.
“He would have slowed us down. Besides, he failed and now we have to recapture the prisoner,” Firestone casually states, waving for his men to lower their guns. Ignoring the presence of the other commander, the muscular leader hunkers down to take the extra ammunition from the fallen soldier. “As per the rules of war, I earned these. Now let’s start making groups to begin the search.”
“You fucking idiot!” Noah shouts, getting to his feet and shoving the bigger man against the jeep. Drawing his rifle, he puts the weapon in his rival’s mouth and clicks off the safety. “The prisoner broke out of the cuffs and attacked. He jumped your man first, but couldn’t finish this young man off before taking a bullet to the head.” The muffled response from Firestone causes the angry Sergeant to push the barrel further into the petty officer’s throat. “I trust my soldiers! We won’t waste our time hunting for a body in the darkness. If you hadn’t acted without thinking, I’d agree to us following my soldier to the scene. Instead, you killed an innocent and lost the chance to get proof of what he says. One more act of aggression and I’ll kill you, Petty Officer Firestone, without hesitation.”
Crossing Bedlam Page 6
