Pursuit of the Apocalypse

by Benjamin Wallace

  “I see. Well, there are worse things to be called.”

  “No, it’s a ...” Erica chuckled. “It’s no big deal. I just thought you might have heard of him.”

  “Well, I don’t get out much except to walk the bears, and as you can imagine not a lot of people come running up to me looking to gossip.”

  “No, I imagine it would cut down on the small talk.”

  “It really does.” Martha nodded. “Murderbear hates small talk.”

  Erica stared into her casserole for a long moment. “Jerry is a good man. I have no doubt he’s looking for me right now. But I don’t know how he’d ever find me here. If I can make it back home ... he knows that’s where I’d go.”

  “That’s a long way.”

  “I know. But I’ll make it. I have to.”

  Martha grabbed Erica’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We will do everything we can to help.”

  Winnie grunted and shoved an empty bowl across the table. Erica smiled as the bear picked up a napkin and dabbed at its face.

  Erica laughed. “Are you sure these bears aren’t at least a little above average?”

  “No, dear. Anyone can seem smart if they practice enough. Problem is most people don’t want to put the time in. Especially when it comes to things like manners.”

  Paddington growled again and pushed away a full bowl. The gruel slopped onto the table as it threatened to spill.

  Martha pushed it back in front of the bear. “Clean your bowl, Paddington.”

  The bear growled louder and shoved the bowl away again.

  She set the bowl down once more. “Don’t be that way, Paddington. You don’t hear Murderbear complaining.”

  Indeed, Murderbear’s entire attention was focused on getting the gruel out of the bowl. His paws dripped with the white mixture and he licked at the drippings.

  Paddington let out a fierce roar and swiped the bowl from the table. It smashed against the wall and shattered, leaving a splat of dripping gruel to run down the wall.

  Martha sighed. “Do you still think they seem intelligent, dear?” To Paddington she said, “Fine, now you have no dinner. Are you happy now?”

  The bear was not happy. A massive paw reached out for the dish in front of Martha.

  The woman slapped Paddington’s paw.

  This drew a startled bark from the bear.

  “You’ve forgotten your manners, young man,” Martha lectured. “We do not reach!”

  Paddington roared.

  Martha roared back, but it was not enough to cow the beast.

  Paddington stood and knocked the table on end, clearing the area between the bear and the older woman. Gruel and casserole flew across the cabin.

  Erica leapt from her seat and rushed to the cabin door.

  Winnie was unfazed as she continued to wipe her face.

  Murderbear growled and went searching for his displaced bowl of gruel.

  “That is enough, Paddington! We have a guest here, and you are being disrespectful. This behavior is unacceptable. Go to your corner!”

  Paddington lunged forward and tackled Martha from her seat. Within moments the woman was dead.

  Erica wanted to scream but was afraid to. She slid the bolt from the door as Paddington roared and shred the vest the woman had made for him.

  The other two bears seemed calm enough, but one dead woman and one fierce bear were enough to send Erica running into the woods.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The two morons walked through the deserted streets of the town back towards where they were pretty sure they had left their bikes. The two hadn’t said much since fleeing the campus, mostly for fear of being discovered, but more mostly because their flight had left them panting for quite some time.

  Their confidence grew the farther they got from campus. The bikes weren’t far now, probably, and they had proven time and time again that once they were on their bikes nothing could catch them.

  Growing up with access to miles of backwoods trails and little parent supervision, the two had grown up riding all the dirt they could find. If it was hot, they rode in sweat. If it was wet, they’d ride in the mud. If their bikes needed a part, they’d fix it. If they couldn’t afford gas, they’d steal it.

  There was no hill they couldn’t climb, no jump they couldn’t clear, and no chance in hell a bunch of weirdo hippies were going to catch them once they hit the throttle.

  As they approached the building where they remembered storing their rides, Coy broke the silence. “It sure was a good idea you had running Hawk’s boys past those vegens, Willie.”

  Willie rolled his eyes, lost his temper, and slapped Coy on the shoulder once for every syllable when he said, “It’s pronounced vegans, you idiot.”

  “Ouch,” Coy jumped back from the assault. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  Coy nodded but argued his point anyway. “But I thought they only eat vegetables.

  “So what?”

  “So, shouldn’t it be vegens?” Coy said. “For vegetables.”

  “But it’s not. It’s vegans.”

  “But that’s stupid. Why is it vegans and not vegens?”

  “I don’t know, Coy. They do a lot of things that make no sense. Like only eating vegetables.” Willie sighed. “But, don’t ask ’em unless you really want to know. Because I’m sure they’ll tell you the whole damn history.”

  Satisfied, Coy nodded for real this time. “Well, either way, it’s a lucky thing they hate leather.”

  Willie couldn’t argue with that. Coy’s surprisingly quick thinking and the militant action of picky eaters was the only reason that they made it out of Tolerance alive. Between the bikers and the lunatics running the place, they should be dead by now. But, the more he thought about it, he did have an argument to make.

  “It wasn’t luck, Coy. It was fate telling us to get the hell out of there. It was fate telling us to go home and leave this whole stupid thing alone. Fate tellin’ us to keep out of trouble from here on out. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, Willie. I don’t speak fate. And I didn’t know you did either.”

  “I know a sign when I see it. Ever since we took this job, fate has been playing us for suckers. But we were foolish and went up against fate, and we have nothing to show for it but a list of new enemies and a belly full of steak. And even at that, we paid for the steak so that was more on us than fate. But there you have it. We should be dead and we’re not and we’d be idiots to go looking for more trouble.”

  Coy nodded, “I still think it was luck.”

  “Call it whatever you want. We got a second chance. Now, we just need to stay out of trouble, or we’re just begging to get killed.”

  They turned down the street and dozens of cars and motorcycles filled the road. There wasn’t a discernable model among them. Every one, be it a sedan, coupe, or truck, had been turned into a nightmare of steel, razor wire, and pain. The imperial crest of Alasis adorned the hood of each vehicle and a menacing driver sat gripping each steering wheel like it was an extension of his very soul.

  Several others, no less insane in appearance, stood around the parked convoy talking to one another.

  Coy and Willie cast a quick glance at one another and turned around to leave. But not before they were noticed.

  “You there.” The voice could have come from any of them. Every man and woman in the group hid their face behind a horrific mask of some fashion. Some were painted like skulls, others like wild beasts, and not cute wild beasts. Gorillas, lions, vipers, and savage wolves were all represented. No one had gone with a chipmunk. Not one.

  “Get over here,” the voice came from a mask that was either a rabid Saint Bernard or a tribute to Teen Wolf. The airbrushing wasn’t the best.

  “What do we do, Willie?” Coy asked out of the side of his mouth.

  “We run, Coy.”

  Both men turned to flee as the vehicles rumbled to life. Each screamed with unrestricted
breath and the walls along the street began to shake. Willie and Coy made it only a few steps before what may have once been a driving school’s Jetta, now covered in chicken wire and rusted body panels, pulled across the street, blocking their escape.

  The pair turned and ran for a narrow passage between two buildings. It wasn’t wide enough for any of the vehicles to follow, and they tore up the ground with their feet trying to reach the safety of the next street.

  Freedom was only a few feet away when a former postal truck blocked their exit. The door slid open and the driver stepped into the narrow passage holding a cumbersome rifle that split into four prongs at the end.

  Coy recognized the weapon right away and slid to a stop. “He’s got a net gun!”

  Willie and Coy barely had time to turn before four blank cartridges launched a safety orange net into the air. They heard nothing as the webbing entwined them together and brought them to the ground.

  “See, Willie? I told you net guns were real.”

  “Shut up, Coy.”

  The men with masks were on them in seconds, punching and dragging the net back into the street. Several minutes later they were untangled and forced to their feet, since it takes a lot longer to untangle a net than it does to tangle it.

  Willie found himself staring through a serpent’s face into dark and hollow eyes that were more than a match for the paint job on the vintage goalie mask. Willie hated snakes because, honestly, who liked the damn things anyway? The way they moved without any legs at all was practically inhuman. Willie recoiled as the voice behind the mask began to hiss.

  When it finally began to speak, the voice was rough and gasped for breath between each word. “Why ... did ... you ... run?”

  Willie felt weak in his knees. No, that wasn’t true. He couldn’t feel his knees. All of the feeling in his body had moved to his bladder. It was all he could do not to wet himself. “Because you’re scary as shit, sir. I mean, you’re dressed like a fucking snake.”

  The voice continued to hiss, “We ... just ... have ... a ... few ... questions.”

  Willie nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk. But, do you have anyone that talks faster? Because I might piss myself before you get through the first question. Sir.”

  The serpent leaned in closer but did not hurry. “We ... are ... from ... Alasis. And ... we ... are ... looking ... for ...”

  “Oh God. Are you really going do this the whole time?” Willie asked. He could feel his bladder control going. He wasn’t going to make it through any kind of interrogation.

  The man’s fist buried itself in Willie’s stomach and Willie doubled over trying not to pee. He felt a hand under his chin. It was soft—the hand of a woman. It lifted his eyes up into another terrifying mask. A simple skull would have been fine, but this one had been imagined with photorealistic maggots burrowing in clumps of rotting flesh. Her eyes, though, were pretty. But her voice was just as hard as the serpent’s. Thankfully, it was faster.

  “We’re looking for some people,” she said. “A man they call the Librarian and a woman named Erica.” She snapped and another monster handed her a sheet of paper. Mrs. Skullface shoved it in his hands. “Have you seen them?”

  Willie looked at the page and recognized the man in the photo immediately as their prey. He didn’t recognize the woman, but suddenly understood why the Librarian was so insistent on finding her. Willie gave no sign of recognition and shook his head. “I haven’t seen them.”

  The woman turned to Coy. “How about you?”

  Willie held his breath hoping that Coy was smart enough to follow his lead. They needed to get away. They needed to convince this gang that Willie and Coy were the two most useless people on the planet. And if Coy was too dumb to get that, they were dead. Unfortunately, he was usually that dumb.

  Willie studied his friend as he looked at the wanted poster. Coy had a dumb look on his face which was a good start but not so different than normal. Coy opened his mouth to speak and Willie closed his eyes. He braced for the beating that would follow Coy’s admission. He decided that if he had to be beaten he would rather get it from Mrs. Skullface than the serpent. It would hurt either way, but she did have really pretty eyes.

  But, the beating never came. Coy came through when he said, “Never heard of them.”

  The woman folded the page into a square and shoved it in Willie’s shirt pocket. “We’re also looking for a man that goes by the name of Mr. Christopher. I suppose you haven’t seen him either.”

  Coy spoke first. “No, ma’am. I’d remember a weird name like that.”

  She looked to Willie.

  He shook his head and tried not to let the relief he was feeling show.

  She grabbed Willie by the collar and pulled him closer. She was a head taller than him. Her eyes were hard behind the mask and possessed such a beautiful evil that he was thankful for the barrier between them.

  “You two look like you’ve had a lot of practice playing dumb.”

  “Thank you. It’s our best game,” Coy said before he processed the insult.

  She looked at him and shoved Willie away. With a wave of her hand the rest of the group returned to their vehicles with the exception of the net gun guy who was still trying to get the net back in the gun.

  She shouted over the sound of revving engines. “You’d better hope you’re dumb. If we find out you were lying, we will find you.”

  “We are dumb, ma’am,” Willie said. “Promise.”

  “As dumb as they come, ma’am,” Coy added.

  “If you see those people, tell them to pray. The Skinners are coming for them all.”

  Willie went white and stumbled back a few steps until he came to rest on the fender of a car.

  The convoy began to break apart as the cars moved out. Willie jumped forward as his seat lurched. Coy danced about the road avoiding the machines as the drivers aimed for both of them in a playful, but very dangerous, manner.

  The man with the net gun frantically tried to sort the net out before finally saying, “Fuck it.” He scooped up the safety-orange netting in both arms and rushed back to his post-apocalyptic postal jeep.

  Dust continued to settle and exhaust continued to billow for several minutes, but Coy and Willie were alone. Coy rushed to Willie’s side. “Holy shit. That was a close one.”

  “Did you hear what they said?” asked Willie.

  “Yeah, something about some Skinners. You look like you almost shit yourself when she said it. What are they?”

  Willie waved his hands around the now vacant street. “They’re Alasis’s worst killers. They never let them out of the city unless they are really, really pissed off. I can’t believe we’re still alive. They kill for fun. They skin their victims alive. They eat their victims alive.”

  “Like while they’re skinning them?” Coy asked.

  “What? I don’t know. What does it matter?”

  “Well, I don’t think they could do both. Wouldn’t skinning someone kill them? And if they were dead you couldn’t eat them alive.”

  “It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, Coy. If they sent the Skinners after that Chris guy, do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, we should run away faster. The bikes are over here, I think.” Coy led the way.

  “Wait.” Willie grabbed Coy by the collar and dragged him back. “It means they want him dead. Alasis wants Mr. Christopher dead.”

  “So what? I hope they kill him. That guy was a dick. And that stupid hat.”

  Willie put a hand to his chin and began to mumble. His lips moved when he thought. They always had.

  But for the first time, it worried Coy. “No. You’re getting an idea and it has something to do with all of this and I don’t want any part of it. I want to go home and I want to be drunk and I mean so drunk that I don’t remember any of this.”

  “What if we killed him first?” Willie asked.

  “What?”

  “What if we killed him first? Alasis is the most powerful place
around and they sent their meanest, murderousest killers after this guy. If we kill him—well, I bet they’d be pretty thankful.”

  “No,” Coy said. “How thankful? Money thankful?”

  “Hell,” Willie said. “I bet they’d make us citizens they’d be so thankful.”

  “I hear they have the lights on up there.”

  “They do. And they have all the food you could ever want. And women, Coy. There are so many women there, I hear the odds are so good even you could find a girl.”

  “That’s just mean, Willie. Do you mean it?”

  “Sure. Why not? Look, we already know none of the girls in Texas will have you. What do you have to lose?”

  “My skin, apparently,” Coy said, rubbing his arm. “I don’t know, Willie. That Chris guy almost killed us once. That Library guy is going to be pissed we knocked him out. I think maybe we should just stick to the runaway plan.”

  Willie stared into the distance and his lips moved quickly. “No, this is perfect.”

  “What is?”

  “The girl.”

  “What girl?”

  Willie pulled out the wanted poster and unfolded it and pointed the woman out to Coy. “The girl that Mr. Christopher guy had with him. The library guy’s girl. Think about it. The Skinners are going to keep both of those guys busy. If we could get the girl, we could use her to catch either of the other two.”

  “I don’t know, Willie.”

  “Are you afraid of a girl, Coy? I thought you were more of a man than that.”

  “I’m not afraid of any girl.”

  “If you are maybe I should start calling you Coyrina.”

  “Don’t you call me Coyrina.”

  “Well, if you’re afraid of a girl, that makes you a girl.”

  “That’s not how gender works, Willie, and you know it!”

  “Calm down, Coyrina.”

  “Fine.” Coy snatched the paper from Willie’s hand and shoved it in his pocket. “We get the girl, we catch one of the guys, we kill that guy, and you stop calling me Coyrina.” Coy turned and stormed off towards the bikes.

  “I knew I could count on you, Coy.”

  “Shut up, Willie.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Erica had never traveled much growing up. Some families could make a long-distance vacation out of a three-day weekend, but her family rarely left town. It’s not like you could call what they had done a staycation either. Holidays and vacation days came and went without much more than the cursory celebration.