A Town Called America

by Andrew Alexander

  Billy tracked them through forests, highways, and town after town. They camped and he camped; they moved and so did he. It wasn’t long before he had them in his sights. Reaching the interstate they traveled east with Billy right on their trail.

  On more than one occasion, he had the opportunity to take them out, but he held back, if only to have them lead him to more of their people. Although he was unsure exactly where they were going, his best guess was that they were on their way to an M.M. encampment.

  They walked and walked until finally they approached the outskirts of a city, where they reached a subway station. Billy continued to follow them as they made their way down into a vast open area past escalators that once had provided commuters with easy access to a subway system that now was completely void of people and light. As Billy followed them, he saw the faint glow of the torches they had lit just ahead of him.

  Deep underground the air was stale and thick with an uneasy scent. Walking down a train tunnel, Billy watched as the men he was following climbed up and into a subway train. He was close, only four cars behind them.

  When Billy stepped into the rail car just behind them, a soldier on guard duty in a tattered M.M. jumpsuit was standing just inside the door next to a torch. “Are you with Captain Reed?” he asked Billy, referring to one of the men ahead of him.

  Billy didn’t say anything. He just walked up to the soldier and stabbed him in the throat with a Bowie knife. After he removed the knife, the man fell to the ground, and Billy walked on without giving the soldier a second look.

  Moving through several other cars before jumping onto the rail track again, Billy followed the men, just as he had before. He saw the torches just ahead of him, breaking the darkness. Taking a moment, Billy let his eyes adjust before he continued.

  Several hundred feet down the tunnel, a man armed with a pistol was talking to the M.M. soldiers Billy had been following. On the left were two men. Standing in the open and on the right side of the tracks, three soldiers were behind wooden pallets stacked waist-high. All five were on an enclosed raised platform five feet off the ground. The brick platform, which appeared to be at the end of the train-track line, had stairs on the right, and the only door was directly in the middle.

  Billy walked up, stopping just outside of the light of the burning torches. The three men standing guard could see Billy, but because he was concealed in the shadows, they couldn’t make out his face.

  A simple fact: a person in a dark room can see into light for a distance, but a person standing in light can’t see into the dark. If the guards had been smart, they would have placed their torches down the track to light up the area instead of having them on the platform, which placed the spotlight right on themselves.

  After assessing the situation, Billy looked at the soldiers, and trusting what he knew about human nature, he believed theses foes were untrained, and the threat they posed was minimal. Human nature told him that the average person, when faced with a situation he or she can’t comprehend, will freeze. On the other hand, if Billy simply had walked up and drawn his pistol, they no doubt would have shot him dead on the spot.

  That wasn’t what he did. He stood there silently as the men yelled at him to move forward. They threatened to shoot him if he didn’t comply, but he stood his ground, not moving an inch. He stood in the pitch black of that tunnel, not moving. Besides knowing a great deal about human nature, Billy had always had a thing for theatrics, especially when he was angry. After a few minutes, he dropped to one knee and pulled a glass bottle out of his backpack.

  He placed it in front of him then pulled out another. He then removed a match that he had in his mouth and struck it to life. The faint glow of the match illuminated his face just enough for the soldiers to see his cold eyes gazing upon his targets. He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke swirl up and around has face as he exhaled. Billy had been right about human nature; all three men stood there in almost a trance, watching him, unsure what to do next.

  Instead of blowing out the match, Billy lit the end of a piece of cloth that was protruding from the bottle. The men stood watching in horror, as they knew what was about to happen next.

  Expressionless, Billy hurled the bottle at the three soldiers on the right. The glass shattered upon impact, splattering the liquid on them, and a split second later, all three were engulfed in flames. Burning alive, with their arms flailing, the men fell off the platform, screaming in pain and for help that wasn’t coming. The three landed on the tracks below, rolling on the ground until their screams were silenced by death.

  The two men on the left didn’t move. They stood in silence, staring at Billy, unsure what to do. When they turned to run, Billy, taking his time, pulled out one of his revolvers, looked at it for a moment, then took aim, shooting both men in the back.

  He placed his backpack over his shoulder, stood up, and walked on. The echoes of the screams and gunshots had reverberated throughout the tunnel. There was no way his presence was a secret any longer. Billy walked up the stairs and opened the steel service doors.

  A few more long corridors were lit with torches. He came to what he thought had once been a main terminal; the area was enormous. On the platform he saw stairs and escalators leading down into the darkness toward more tracks. From the top to the bottom, there had to have been at least eight stories of open space.

  Small booths filled the area, where vendors eagerly awaited travelers to bargain with. Every vendor and every person Billy saw all wore the same M.M. uniforms. Some people were sleeping on the floor; others were gathered in groups, talking; and some were sitting against walls, not doing anything at all. Despite how desperate most of the people looked, they were all about to die. The military Billy had joined had become corrupt and diluted.

  He walked down the long stairway into the darkness, and with only one way to go, he followed the tunnel to the left. Billy picked up his pace, moving faster, trying not to lose his targets, who certainly were aware of his presence. Inside a long tunnel, nine people were gathered, talking and going about their business. As Billy walked past them, they didn’t appear to notice him at all, or so he thought.

  About another thirty feet farther into that dark tunnel, Billy stopped, as he knew the men he had passed were following him. He stood with his back to them. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Do you know who I am?”

  “I know who you are,” one of the men said. “I’m sure you came here to kill me. You’re probably still upset about your little farmhouse, but I can assure you it was just business. You know I have my orders just like anyone else.”

  “It’s just business? It’s not personal? When they gave you your orders to find me, did they tell you who I was?” Billy asked.

  “Look, like I said, it’s not personal, and who you are makes no difference.”

  “Well, if it doesn’t matter who I am, I’ll ask you one question. Have you heard of the Ghost Assembly?

  “Ghost Assembly?” the man scoffed. “You’re not a Ghost. You’re just a dumb old fool who’s about to die.”

  “Well, then, let’s play a game of tag, and you can decide for yourself who I am.”

  With a sigh Billy slowly pulled the Bowie knife from its long sheath; it was nearly a foot long and had seen the blood of many people. In a flash he spun around, pivoting to his left and flinging the knife from his hand with perfect precision. It flew through the air, striking its target dead center in the chest. Before the man’s body hit the ground, Billy was upon another soldier who was standing behind him.

  Turning fast, he ducked as the man took a swing at him. Coming up on the other side of his right hook, Billy caught the man’s arm, bending it just below the elbow until the bone snapped at its joint. Billy, turning fast, barely missed a baseball bat aimed at his midsection. With a roundhouse kick from his boot, he hit the man holding the bat directly across the jaw.

  After a series of punches to the sternum of another soldier, Billy swung around and used that man as a sh
ield from an incoming swing of a two-by-four. The board hit the man Billy was behind over the top of the head, cracking his skull open. Billy reached under his trench coat, pulled out his shotgun, and placed it over the shoulder of the man he was using as a human shield.

  When he pulled the trigger, the thunderous explosion rang out from his weapon, hitting the man with the two-by-four directly in the stomach. He let go of the man he had used as a shield and quickly sidestepped to the right as the man fell limply to the ground.

  Like the infamous gunslingers of the past, Billy dropped his shotgun, letting it fall to the wet concrete floor. Then he drew both his revolvers from under his arms and blasted the last six men with two shots each. A split second later, all twelve rounds had been fired, and all six remaining men were on the floor, dead.

  Billy stood silently. The only sounds came from his empty bullet casings as they hit the floor while he reloaded his pistols. Deep from under his black cowboy hat, he looked toward the remaining three men he’d initially been following. The other members of the group had decided it best to part ways, as they saw Billy wasn’t playing games.

  “Wow, did you see that?” one of the three men said. “He just took out nine people single-handedly! You two idiots can learn from that. Whoever you are, mister, Ghost or not, I see you’re serious. So let’s talk business. Obviously the fire pissed you off, and you want to be compensated, but if you’re truly a Ghost, then you know—”

  Billy didn’t allow him to finish speaking. “What I want is a reckoning,” he stated coldly. He lifted his head and stood up a little straighter, looking directly at the men in front of him. The other two both moved out of the way, backing up toward the wall.

  Billy saw the look of terror on the face of the first man when he realized he had to face Billy alone.

  “I know you. You’re not just a Ghost—you’re the leader of the Ghost Assembly,” one of the men standing against the wall said.

  “I was the leader,” Billy responded.

  “So what…you’re gonna shoot me now? Yeah, you might have been a Ghost, but you’re just a washed-up old man now, and I’m a colonel in the M.M.”

  “I give you my word that no harm will come to you by my hand.” Billy threw his two revolvers on the floor directly in front of a soldier near the wall. “Pick it up now!” he shouted.

  The man slowly bent down and picked up the revolver.

  “Put it in your belt,” Billy demanded, and the soldier did as ordered.

  Billy said, “You have to choose. You can take option number one and shoot me right here, right now, and see what happens. Option number two is for you to shoot this stupid ass dead and walk away. It’s really not that hard if you think about it.”

  “No, no! You said you wouldn’t harm me,” the colonel said.

  “I said no harm would come to you by my hand. I didn’t say anything about this guy shooting you.”

  With that the colonel turned his attention to the soldier with the gun in his belt. “You listen here, Sergeant! I’m an officer in the M.M., and I order you to kill that man now!”

  The soldier pulled his pistol slowly out of his belt and pointed it dead at Billy’s chest. Billy stood like a rock, not moving or saying anything.

  Boom. The gun went off with a tremendous roar. The soldier stood holding the pistol, looking at the now-dead officer on the ground. He then threw the pistols back to Billy, which he caught with ease, one in each hand.

  “You know, I’ve never really cared for smug officers,” the soldier said as he turned and walked away. Billy kept his promise and allowed him to live.

  The last soldier, who had stood watching the entire scene, was in shock and disbelief. Billy removed one of his revolvers and threw it at the last man standing.

  “Pick it up and put it in your belt.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I said to do it!”

  Hesitating, the soldier finally did as told and placed the weapon in his belt.

  “Now, when you’re ready, draw your weapon and shoot me dead!”

  A second later the man drew his pistol from his belt in a manner he felt was lightning quick. That was true; he had drawn extremely fast, even surprising Billy with his speed. However, fast means nothing if you can’t hit your target.

  Billy did it right; although he wasn’t as fast as the soldier, he took his time to aim, blasting the man six times in his chest. He fell to the floor, a puddle of blood surrounding his body.

  Billy leaned over, picked up his shotgun, and reloaded it. Moments later two more soldiers came to see what was happening, but Billy immediately shot them both dead.

  It was almost over; the battle soon would be won, and it would be time to return to his family. But first Billy was going to do what he’d intended from the start, and that was to kill anyone wearing a black jumpsuit.

  When he finally left the subway tunnels, at least sixty soldiers were dead by his hand. If Billy indeed had a reputation, now it was set in stone. He had left his calling card for the M.M.

  With the score settled, he headed home. He may have been old, but he was and always would be a marine. Semper fi was the one and only tattoo on his body.

  TWENTY NINE

  It had taken months for Rick and Robbie’s wounds to heal from the fire, and nearly their entire supply of antibiotics had been exhausted in the process. The last thing any of them could afford was an infection, especially Robbie. Winter had turned into spring, and the four of them knew that losing the barn, horses, and the farmhouse had put them in a very bad spot. They all agreed they needed to move on and find a new place to establish a new home.

  Unsure what the future had in store for them, they packed their few belongings and prepared to travel. It would be a long road, but they knew that somewhere in the world was their oasis, a place where they could live in peace. One way or another, they would find a town called America.

  The foursome set out on an adventure, hoping and praying they’d find a peaceful life. For months they traveled just as Rick, Chris, and Billy had in the past, but this time they had no horses and limited ammo and rations, as they’d lost almost everything in the fire.

  Eventually the road began to wear on them; it never seemed to end. Every day they were constantly on guard, always looking out for someone who might take a shot at them. They were exhausted from lack of sleep and not having adequate food, and they were always restless. Depression was affecting all of them, and they knew it. Billy and Rick had talked many times about their nearly reaching the breaking point; it was creeping up on everyone, and if something didn’t give, they were all going to break.

  The weather had turned to rain, and the winds were picking up steadily. There was a storm coming and no sign of shelter. Tired, wet, and cold, the four made their way toward a gas station up the road. The sign they saw had read, LAST STOP FOR GAS TWO MILES AHEAD. Those two miles seemed like twenty, as they walked having no idea whether the gas station would still be standing, but in the end, to their luck, it was.

  The gas station was basically a shack. The windows were boarded shut, as was the front door. Trees and vegetation had all but swallowed the building. The gas pumps were completely gone, and it appeared the place had been abandoned long before the government collapse.

  Approaching the gas station, they peered skyward toward a giant wooden sign thirty feet in the air, dead center in the broken-concrete parking lot. They could just make out the words RON’S STATION. Searching the behind the dilapidated structure, Robbie found the entrance to a storm cellar under a pile of branches.

  Working together in the rain and wind, they quickly removed the branches from the entrance. There was no lock, and the double doors were rusty but easily opened. They made their way down the steps and closed the door behind them. At the bottom was another door, also unlocked, which led to a dark room with a strong musty smell that made them all want to gag.

  Through the darkness they couldn’t make out much of anything. They all sat down in a
circle in the far-right corner of the room. In the pitch black, they went through their bags, looking for a match or anything else they could use to start fire. Robbie found a half-full pack of cigarettes but had lost his only lighter close to a week prior. Rick had a lighter, but it had gotten wet, and he was unable to use it. Chris had nothing, and Billy was still searching through his bag.

  “Ah, I found it,” he said, as he pulled a small pink lighter from his backpack.

  “You mother!” Robbie said to Billy. “I haven’t had a smoke in ages because I couldn’t light one, and you’ve had a lighter this whole time?”

  Chris sat and listened to the bickering; Billy and Robbie were going at it. Billy tried to explain that it was the only lighter they had, and they needed to conserve it. Acting hotheaded Robbie didn’t accept Billy’s answer.

  Within a few minutes, both had stood up and were screaming at each other. Then, in the darkness of the room, with his right fist clenched, Robbie took a swing at Billy. Unable to see in the dark and enraged, he swung as hard as he could and hit Chris’s left eye.

  Robbie didn’t know Chris had stood up in an attempt to separate them. Chris put her head down and called him a stupid ass. “I can’t believe you hit me!” she exclaimed.

  Rick stood up and grabbed Robbie from behind, pinning his arm behind his back and slamming his head against the wall. “Have you lost your mind?” he said, holding Robbie there. Subdued and unable to move, Robbie yelled out repeatedly that he was sorry and that it was an accident.

  “What the hell were you thinking, boy?” Billy asked.

  “Let him go, Rick!” Chris said abruptly.

  “Chris, he hit you.”

  “I know what he did. Just let him go.”

  “So this is OK? He can do whatever the hell he wants with no consequences?” Rick snapped back. “What is it with you and him? Is there something I need to know? You’re always defending him. Why?”

  “You’re hurting me,” Robbie said, as Rick pushed him harder against the wall.