Crossing Bedlam

by Charles E Yallowitz

  For their part, the two travelers are remaining calm and are even enjoying the parts of the battle that involve explosions. The rapid pinging of bullets off the jeep’s newly reinforced body and windows is nothing more than background noise that they easily ignore. The shots are only annoying when Cassidy is standing in the back with her head through the roof and protected by a bulletproof dome. With several slits around the clear shield, she can fire in any direction, including the front now that the central floodlight has been removed and the others are pushed to hang off the side. Small machineguns can be unfolded from the roof, but their power is not enough to pierce the enemy’s armor. Not that Cassidy planned on leaving a trail of decimation in her wake because she has always preferred speed over strength. Precise shots to exposed gang members, unprotected tires, and whatever openings she can spot have helped keep the wild mobs at bay. When one of the bigger vehicles begins giving her trouble, the young woman unfolds the mini-gun that Bart insisted be installed for emergencies. Seeing a door swinging open in a nearby van that looks like it is covered in hubcaps, Cassidy grabs a grenade from her belt. She pulls the pin and drops it down a pneumatic pipe in front of her, which launches the explosive into the face of the surprised gang member. The inside of the vehicle explodes, causing the back half to launch into a pair of naked motorcyclists and the rest of the van to pitifully flip onto its smoking roof.

  While his friend wracks up a body count that makes him jealous, Lloyd focuses more on keeping them in one piece. An array of sensors have been added to the dashboard, telling him when rockets are approaching or if there are mines ahead. Not having to worry about the rules of the road, he is proving to be a highly skilled offensive driver. It helps that he has locked the gas pedal down, a slight twist of his foot freeing it if he needs to slow down. Swerving to avoid a mine, he narrowly misses the explosive and releases a few balloon decoys to handle a rocket that is heading for them. Seeing a car coming around the driver’s side to get in front of them, Lloyd flips open a hatch in the door. It is too small for his enemy to notice, but it is it the perfect size for him to fire a thin harpoon through. The projectile shatters the passenger’s side window and kills the gunman before impaling the driver’s hands to the steering wheel. Hearing a telltale beep, the grinning killer frees the gas pedal to slow down and sideswipes the other car. Hitting the back end of the storm-patterned vehicle, Lloyd sends it spinning onto a mine. The explosive sends the burning wreckage tumbling along the open landscape until it comes to a creaking stop in a ditch.

  “I told you this was hell!” Cassidy shouts, dropping to the floor and grabbing a shotgun. She uses another slot to fire at the tires of an approaching car, her shot hitting the barbed wire covered hood instead. “I count at least eight separate gangs on our ass. At least they’re fighting amongst themselves too.”

  “Yeah, but they’re starting to realize we’re the biggest threat out here,” Lloyd mentions, tossing a canteen back to his friend. The glint of something metal in the distance catches his attention and it takes him a few seconds to identify the object. “Shit. Looks like one of them has a train. Do you think we can handle that?”

  “The train isn’t a threat. All of the real Nebraskans live on those,” the young woman replies, standing again and cracking her neck. Unfolding two of the small machineguns, she unloads on two packs of bikers whose falling bodies are crushed by several of the bigger vehicles. “The trains run off some kind of bio-fuel, which probably comes from hydroponic farms. Never really met any of the locals because those things never stop unless they have a prearranged trade at a depot. When that happens, they take out anyone who comes within a mile of the area. Neddy claims to have done a deal here, but it isn’t something he likes talking about.”

  “So the gangs aren’t locals?” Lloyd asks before making a sharp turn. He watches in his mirrors as their pursuers have a few accidents in an attempt to follow. “By the way, remind me to send Bart a hippo thing. The tire guards are a work of genius. Feel like I’m driving a really fast, badass tank. Hope we don’t run into any mutated kangaroos out here. Mostly because I only know the movie version and don’t want to insult something that could bounce kick me through a brick wall.”

  “These are people from other states who showed up to make the gangs.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “The open landscape makes it easy to spot and chase down victims.”

  “But I don’t get the leather, spikes, and garbage heap décor they seem obsessed with.”

  Cassidy slides open a slit and fires her handgun into the face of a snarling gang member who has managed to get onto the jeep. She tries to figure out where he came from, noticing the remains of a motorcycle stuck to the rear bumper. It is held on by a chain that is fused to the bike’s seat and she guesses that the man she grappled them during her last salvo. Grabbing a pair of bolt cutters, she whistles for Lloyd to spin the car and drive backwards. She opens the door that is opposite the approaching packs and leans out to free themselves of the extra weight, a blinking red light on the motorcycle’s gas tank making her work quickly. A few seconds after the remains of the bike are cut loose, the vehicle explodes with a force that would have ruptured the rear tires and taken off a chunk of the jeep’s back end.

  “These people believe that this is how the Shattered States should be,” Cassidy explains when she gets back inside. She takes a quick bite of jerky while they spin back into their original position. “It’s all about this popular movie series. You find a lot of people in this country who imitate fiction in an attempt to make sense of reality. Though I’m guessing these people always wanted to be extremely violent and found this be a great excuse. That’s what attracts new members from outside the borders. Besides, it isn’t like there’s a law enforcement group out here anyway. Now that I think about it, these people have managed to have a looser grasp of reality than you.”

  “Awww, that’s so sweet,” Lloyd replies as more bullets batter the sides of the jeep. A pair of startling roars bring his attention to where two tractor trailers are trying to cut them off. “Guess now I know why they keep yelling in terrible Australian accents. Also why many of the smaller vehicles seem more inclined to ram into us than shoot from far away. It’s like bumper car death match out here. Looks like we have people coming in from all sides and we’re losing speed. I have a blinking light on the dashboard too. Think one of the bullets got through the armor and into the engine.”

  “That’s why Bart gave me a manual and tools,” Cassidy says, crawling into the front to skim through a handwritten book. Having spent a few nights studying the notes, she quickly finds the information while the jeep barrels through a hole in the closing circle of enemies. “Shit! I don’t think I can fix this on the move. Even if we escape and find an abandoned town to hide in, we’d be found before I finished. Got an hour before nightfall, but that still won’t be enough to help us do repairs and escape. Dammit! I can’t think with all this noise!”

  “Want me to politely ask them to be quiet?”

  “You just want to use that megaphone again.”

  “I’m a lover of conversation.”

  “Focus on driving while I clear my head.”

  Cassidy pulls out the mini-gun and opens the bigger hole in the dome, which she loosens by removing a few clips. Practically spinning, she unleashes a barrage of large bullets into the surrounding vehicles. Barely clothed bikers are sent tumbling to the ground where they are either run over by cars or lay still from a collection of shattered bones. Several sports cars veer to the side, usually hitting another vehicle and causing a crash. Only the vans and armored trailers continue without batting an eye, but all of them receive damage from the onslaught. Focusing on an enemy preparing a rocket launcher, Cassidy’s bullets splinter the windshield and tear apart the shrieking driver. One of the explosive payloads goes off as the sedan flips, the weaving projectile punching a hole in a rival gang’s moving fortress. The opening allows the young woman to fire di
rectly into the dangerous machine, which eventually jackknifes and takes out several cars that were unfortunate enough to be driving too close.

  With a sigh of satisfaction, Cassidy puts away the mini-gun and secures the bulletproof dome before returning to the smaller machineguns. When one of her shots punctures the tire of a car with chains hanging off the sides, the young woman sees a scrawny man in jeans crawl out the back window. As the vehicle swerves on three wheels, the mechanic repeatedly tries to get a patch on the damaged part. Someone still inside is aiming a gun at the man, which explains why he is attempting such a dangerous repair. After losing a finger and getting dragged for a few seconds, he finally succeeds in getting a patch in the right place. Being handed something that looks like an air pump, the mechanic jams the sharp end into the side and refills the tire. With a twist of the detachable nozzle, he seals the new hole and clambers back inside. Moments later, the patch comes loose and the car skids away from the jeep. The burst of a gunshot can be heard before the mechanic’s body is tossed out and the vehicle crashes into the remains of a highway divider.

  “I have an idea to get the repairs done quickly,” Cassidy says while taking a seat. She frowns at the reduced speed and looks back at a pack of canisters that will give them a one-time boost. “I’ll need your harpoon gun and some strong wire. Think I saw a reel attachment for the thing around here. Just keep us steady while I steal a mechanic.”

  “It’s all yours, but I can’t make promises on staying straight,” Lloyd replies, pointing at one of the displays. A large patch of glowing dots show that they are coming to a large minefield and their pursuers are determined to force them into it. “Not to mention we have whatever that big line with a single gap turns out to be. Think I see tracks going through there, so I’m guessing a wall with some kind of train tunnel or something. Probably have to go around, which will cost us time.”

  “Perfect,” the blonde mutters while getting her weapons ready. She pulls a sniper rifle out from behind the backseat and puts it through the door. “This shot doesn’t need to be perfect. Just need to draw out a mechanic. After that, I need you to keep going straight. Let me know if a train is heading in the same direction as us.”

  Not bothering to carefully aim, Cassidy fires several bullets through the grill of a nearby tractor trailer. The blade-covered vehicle is no more than a quarter of a football field away, which gives her a clear view of those inside the cab. Smoke billows out from under the hood, obscuring the driver’s view enough that he bangs into several smaller cars before he gets the fortress back under control. A hatch opens on the top of the cab and a young man with a rainbow-colored Mohawk crawls out with a belt of tools in his hand. He releases the hood and lets the sheet of metal fall away, the sharp edge decapitating a biker.

  Cassidy waits until the mechanic is more to her side of the larger vehicle before taking aim with the harpoon gun. Bullets ping off the jeep and one nearly makes it through the hole in the door before she fires. The barbed point pierces the man’s leg and threatens to pin him to the engine, but he twists at the last second to prevent it from getting stuck. As if she is fishing, Cassidy reels the thrashing gang member in while Lloyd maneuvers to prevent their prisoner from getting run over by the speeding cars and bikes. The mechanic struggles to free himself, but his grip on the harpoon unwittingly keeps it in place. Bullets are battering the dusty earth around him, one eventually striking the terrified man’s shoulder. A cackling voice suddenly announces that dinner is about to be served, the taunt ending when Cassidy kicks the megaphone away from Lloyd.

  When the mechanic is within reach, the jeep is spun to move him away from most of the enemy vehicles. Detaching the cable, Cassidy throws the door open to grab the man by the arm and yanks him inside. Not wanting him to cause trouble, she uses a stun gun on the gang member and cuts the wire from the harpoon. Searching for a first aid kit, the blonde does her best to patch up the leg wound without removing the projectile and simply slaps a large bandage on the bullet hole in his shoulder. A loud clunk from the engine makes her heart leap into her throat, so she handcuffs their new friend to a bar in the floor. She grins at the blaring of a horn and she hurries to check on the canisters. Briefly glancing out the window, Cassidy can see a silver train barreling toward the barrier and threatening to block their progress.

  “We’re going to lose these bastards and find a place to hide until morning,” she announces before heading for the dome. To keep the gangs away, she fires at windows with small bursts from the machineguns. “This is all up to you, Lloyd. I want you to skirt one of the mines at the edge of the field. You probably won’t set it off, but I’m going to pretend that one of the guns have jammed. That should draw one of them into the minefield to set off a chain reaction. When the explosions start, I want you to aim for the gap in the barrier.”

  “There’s a train coming,” Lloyd says, listening to his friend curse over the megaphone about a faulty gun. He chuckles at how she ends by screaming at him to turn the device off because she does not want their enemies to know they are defenseless. “I think I get it. You’re going to use Bart’s little toy to send us into the tunnel ahead of the train. This is really putting my theory that we’re characters in a story to the test. Where did you get an idea for a trick like this?”

  “I saw a coyote escape from hunters by doing this with a subway.”

  “We’re copying a fucking coyote?”

  “They’re smart animals.”

  “Not compared to a roadrunner!”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Guess hit by a train is better than whatever these guys would do to us.”

  The jeep is flanked by two cars, the one on their left attempting to launch a mortar and bursting into flames due to a misfire. As they drive along the edge of the minefield, the other vehicle sets off the explosives. Those who have no protection against the fire and heat scream in agony, their speed too high to avoid the unexpected danger. Several cars and vans are sent into the air as they hit more of the mines, the carnage causing enough chaos to stop half of their pursuers. Only the tractor trailers and those smarter enough to go around the obstacle continue the pursuit, but Cassidy is sure they have gained enough of a lead.

  Her smile fades when she catches a glimpse of a jet engine on the back of a moving fortress, which is picking up speed. Anything loose falls off the larger vehicle as it rattles to the point where it may fall apart. With the train blaring its horn and refusing to slow down, Lloyd hits a blue button to inject nitro into the fuel line. The jeep lurches forward, but it is not as powerful as he expected. Checking his rearview mirror, he sees Cassidy hastily tossing hissing canisters of gas out the door. Realizing that the system has failed miserably, they are no longer sure they will beat the train to the tunnel. Even if they do, it will be faster on the tracks and probably smash into them long before they reach the other side.

  Lloyd snaps his fingers and points at the mini-gun, hoping Cassidy gets what he is suggesting. It takes her a precious second to see that he wants her to fire on the train, the surprise attack having a small chance at slowing it down. Stunning the stirring mechanic before getting to the dome, the aching blonde aims for the engine and unloads everything the weapon has. The air is filled with shrieking brakes and the travelers get ahead of the train, which swiftly regains the momentum that it lost. Lloyd and Cassidy hold their breath as the jeep leaps onto the track and turns into the tunnel with the locomotive only a few yards behind. A tunnel-shaking boom happens and they see fire licking at the entrance while the train is derailed. The echo of gunfire can be heard throughout the tunnel as the locals fight the gangs, who are descending upon the damaged transport. From the sound of the battle, the Nebraskans are more than a match for their already battered enemies.

  “You got the tractor trailer to hit the train,” Cassidy says with a chuckle. “That should keep them off us for a while.”

  Lloyd wipes sweat from his brow and smirks. “All part of the plan.”


  “You really meant to go across the tracks and get around the barrier.”

  “I may have turned the wheel right instead of keeping it straight.”

  “How could you possibly make that mistake?”

  “Ever sneeze, burp, and cough at the same time?”

  “Just keep driving, Lloyd.”

  *****

  A howling wind rattles the barn’s shuttered windows, the eerie noise making the mechanic very nervous. Limping around the jeep on his bad leg, the man takes his time admiring the beauty in front of him. After years of building and repairing the grotesque machines of the gang that adopted him, seeing something so natural makes him feel a little choked up. He is unable to indulge in the sensation due to Cassidy anxiously sitting on a nearby crate with her handgun at the ready. She has already winged his ear after an escape attempt, which the mechanic argued was due to him being confused upon waking up. Knowing almost daily brutality from the gang leaders, he is unsure why this unassuming woman makes his mouth go dry in fear faster than anything else in Nebraska.

  “Remember that I know enough to see if you’re sabotaging us,” Cassidy states, interrupting the man’s thoughts. She gets close enough to put the gun to his head while popping the jeep’s hood. “This should be easy for you. Solid ground beneath your feet and no bullets flying by your head . . . yet. No reason to go into the jeep since I’ve brought all of the tools and the manual out here. So if I see you move for the door, I’ll think you’re up to something.”