ROAD TRIP THROUGH THE APOCALYPSE

by Vincent Fields

  The man whose arm Tadashi had snapped still laid several steps back, curled in the fetal position and holding his destroyed arm in pain. Tadashi slowly walked over to him with the confidence of a cat playing with a wounded mouse. The man was so consumed by his pain that he didn’t even turn to see Tadashi coming, who slowly stabbed down through the side of the man’s chest to push his sword through his lungs and heart. For Tadashi it was done with the emotionlessness he would have had if he’d been carving a piece of meat.

  As the man gasped and then exhaled his final breath Tadashi stretched his arms up and out; soaking in the rays of the sun as sweat and blood ran down his body. With eyes still closed a rare thing happened… a genuinely happy smile spread across his face. The tattooed thug sensed that he would be next… he knew he had no chance by attacking empty handed against this obvious blade master. He threw his empty pistol at his enemy in disgust, which Tadashi dodged by coolly slipping his head to his right as it harmlessly flew past. Tadashi opened his eyes and looked at the man for a few moments and they held each other’s gaze in silence. The proud Yakuza gangster finally threw open his arms and yelled, “Come on then... I have no weapon… just finish it!” Tadashi continued to look at him and his smile turned into a mischievous grin. He looked down at his sword and then back at the man… and then back to his sword again before tossing it several feet behind him. The Yakuza looked over at Tadashi in surprise, who just stood there waiting in what had now become a hand to hand fight in which the thug had a chance… or so he thought.

  The Yakuza grunted as he charged and threw a hard right handed haymaker punch at his face. Tadashi stepped in and raised his left elbow, slightly extending it directly towards the oncoming strike to intercept it. He reached out with his right hand and helped guide the incoming fist right into his elbow. The thug's fist impacted directly with the hard point of Tadashi's left elbow, breaking bones in his middle and ring fingers. He instantly recoiled his hand in pain and gave out a sharp yelp as he stumbled back.

  Tadashi's shin bones were weaponized just like the bones of his arms, fists and feet; they had received hundreds of micro-fractures that had healed over and hardened with thick calcium deposits. He could chop down a bamboo tree with his shins without feeling the slightest pain. After he intercepted and injured the man's right fist, he immediately stepped in towards him with his left foot, rotated his hips quickly to the left as he threw an extremely fast and powerful right roundhouse kick towards his face. This thug, no stranger to fighting, instinctively lifted his left forearm to block the kick, but Tadashi’s shin snapped the blocking forearm and brutally drove it into his head, knocking him down a few feet to his own right and stunning him, in spite of the block. The kick had such power that Tadashi’s right leg continued on through his opponent and spun his own body around in a complete circle to face his fallen opponent once again.

  Tadashi had done more to turn his hands into weapons than just calcifying his knuckles and bones through years of painful conditioning. He kept his thumbnails long; they protruded out about a half inch. He ate nutritious food and took daily vitamins to strengthen them, which made his nails to grow thick and strong. In ancient ninjitsu fashion his thumbnails were dipped in silver and sharpened, thus keeping razor sharp blades always at hand.

  Deciding he wanted to really enjoy this last kill, Tadashi stepped over him and sat on his stomach with his knees touching the ground. He grabbed the sides of his head with both hands and slowly inserted his thumb blades directly through each of his eyeballs. The man began screaming and writhing in horrible pain as he tried to pull Tadashi’s hands off of him; but they were too strong. Tadashi pushed his thumbs all the way in and gripped tightly on the outer edges of his eye sockets with the rest of his fingers on the sides of the man’s head as he started bashing his skull into the hard stone of the courtyard. He felt the skull crack and the man fell silent, but he continued bashing. After several more slams blood and skull fragments flew, and yet he continued bashing. The rear of the man’s skull got mushier and mushier, breaking more bone out wider and wider with each continued hit. Blood and eye goo ran from his sockets around Tadashi’s thumbs and splashed on his face, which lit up his smile even more. The man’s body was limp, yet Tadashi continued to bash. This was his celebration. As chunks of brain began to fly, Tadashi bashed even harder and somehow smiled even bigger. Those looking on, including his father in the room below, cringed in shock and disgust. “THUMP - THUMP - THUMP”, as he continued to bash he yelled out, “Is that it?! Is that the best you’ve got father?! Only five men?! Next time send 10!” “THUMP - THUMP - THUMP”, He yelled a primal roar that soon turned into laughter. To hell with his ancestral abilities; he could win any battle with his own strength and might if he needed to! There wasn’t much left of the man’s head as he gave it one last bash and then stood up, bathed in red. Only then did he hear his father’s voice over the speakers, as he had been yelling for some time. “I said that’s enough! Dammit son that’s enough!”

  Tadashi again held his arms outstretched towards the sun, his eyes closed as the rays shone through his eyelids, giving off a reddish orange hew. The whites of his teeth seemed especially brilliant surrounded the red splatter that covered his face. His smile beamed brighter than it had in years… he was truly happy. He had forgotten about his earlier failure in not beating his father’s record. It was a good day after all.

  CHAPTER 10: CHECKPOINT

  T ak and Nathan had taken turns driving through the stop and go traffic ever since they had picked up Ringo. They had agreed to not use the air conditioner in order to save gas. With the front windows rolled partially down and the side windows slid open the breeze made the mid 80’s weather feel just fine. Traveling in the RV made the bad traffic more bearable than it would have been in a traditional car or truck. When one of them needed to eat, use the bathroom or take a break they would just switch drivers and go handle their business in comfort. Nathan was currently at the wheel. Amy had offered to take turns driving but both men declined like gentlemen due to her injured shoulder. Tak got in an intense two-hour workout in the afternoon, doing the exercises he could in the small space. He tirelessly cranked out pushups, sit-ups, and 10-count burpees that worked every muscle in his body. Amy laughed several times as he grunted and worked out like a man possessed, “You’d better save some of that energy in case we get into a fight later.” He threw her a wink, “I’ve always got more where that came from, baby.” His often corny humor made her giggle.

  When they passed through Nashville it looked like a warzone. Smoke was rising from dozens of individual fires in the city, and the entire northeastern side burned. More and more vehicles were running out of gas and becoming stranded on the highway; their occupants left to fend for themselves. The radio was full of news, and none of it was good. Martial law had been declared. A sunset curfew was ordered; anyone found out between sunset and sunrise without a verifiable emergency would be jailed. The military was setting up camps to put people in. Obviously looted goods were being confiscated. Active looters and arsonists were being shot on sight by law enforcement and military personnel. Carjackings and assaults were rampant. As they temporarily stopped in the bumper to bumper traffic Nathan commented, “Man, things are getting worse out there quick. We’re a prime target in this Beast.”

  As the threat level seemed to rise they agreed to don their bullet proof vests and attach their sidearms to holsters mounted to the center of their chests, which allowed for quick access to their weapons. They passed by several groups walking the highway who seemed quite interested in their RV throughout the day. They found that the sight of them wearing their gear deterred several onlookers and seemed to keep them from initiating contact further once they realized they were armed.

  When the sun began to set Tak folded the couch down into a bed and closed the side curtains. He put a pillow behind his back and sat up against the left-side wall next to the window. Amy lay on his right side and Ringo lay between his legs
; his head in Tak’s lap as he got pet. They were bonding quickly even though Ringo was obviously depressed. They were coming into the city of Atlanta Georgia; a trip from Nashville that would normally take less than five hours had taken them almost three times that long due to the horrible traffic.

  Nathan spoke up, “Hey ya’ll, check this out; up ahead.” Tak got off the couch and knelt down in the center of the RV just behind Nathan’s right shoulder as he looked ahead. He saw flashing red and blue lights ahead a half mile or so. Traffic stopped in front of them and there were at least a half dozen sets of police lights and twice as many military vehicles. Traffic was backed up about 500 yards from the checkpoint, which was set up just in front of an exit. The right lane was coned off, forcing traffic to merge into one lane. Tak spoke up, “Looks like some sort of checkpoint. Pull your badges out and get your ID’s ready.” The friends pulled the badges that hung from chains around their necks out in front of their vests. As they inched along towards their turn in line, they heard yelling and automatic gunfire up ahead. Tak got up and moved towards the back, “I’ll go topside and check it out… I’ll be right back.” Tak went to the rear window just above the bed, which doubled as an emergency exit. He unlatched the two latches at the bottom, swung it open and slipped out past the spare tire onto the rear bumper. He grabbed the ladder on the right side of the RV, let the window hang back closed, and climbed to the top. From the viewpoint atop the 11 foot tall motorhome Tak could see pretty well up ahead. Powerful floodlights were set up on each side of the checkpoint, lighting up the 50 foot long area ahead like it was daytime. It looked like a pickup truck had just attempted to run through the checkpoint and had been lit up by the soldiers carrying long black rifles. Several vehicles had been pulled over to the side and were being searched. Tak spotted at least 20 camouflaged soldiers and a half dozen state troopers manning the checkpoint. He went back to the rear of the roof and climbed down the ladder, entered and secured the rear window. He went back up to his friends, “A few state troopers seem to be running the operation, backed by 20 or so soldiers. They just blasted someone who ran the checkpoint so be sure and move slowly around em’.”

  Nathan continued to move the RV along in line as they approached the checkpoint. At least a dozen armed and armored soldiers eyed the RV as it approached; their trained pointer fingers held straight above the trigger guards of their rifles. These men were obviously on edge, having fired upon more than one vehicle this day, judging by several bullet ridden cars and trucks pushed off to the far right side of the road.

  As the car in front of their RV passed on, a state trooper pointed a flashlight with a bright orange cone around its end towards Nathan and motioned for him to stop up next to him. He slowly drove the Beast up to where the trooper was in line with his window. Nathan turned all the interior lights on and put his left hand on the wheel as his right hand displayed his police ID. The officer, a tall mid 50’s trooper with a nametag that read “Hardin”, looked at the badge around Nathan’s neck and glanced at his ID with a nod. “Prepare to be boarded, we’re checking everybody.” Nathan replied, “We unlocked the side door for ya’ll officer, come on in. Just be aware that we are law enforcement and we’re openly armed.” The trooper nodded, “No problem, let me tell these guys…” Just then the door was yanked open and a soldier began to enter with more right men behind him. Tak sat on the couch and held on to Ringo’s collar, who stood up next to him. Amy sat with her hands on her knees in the recliner. The first soldier in, a young pimply faced boy who couldn’t be more than 18 and seemed to sweat more from being nervous than from the heat, stepped up on the second stair and stopped. His eyes locked onto the pistol on Tak’s chest. “GUN!” he yelled as he began to raise his black rifle in Tak’s direction. Tak immediately sprung up off of the couch and began to block the rising rifle by pushing it back into the man with the palms of his hands as he began to yell, “WOH WOH - EASY; WE’RE…” The boy’s finger was already on the trigger and his weapon’s fire selector switch was on “three-round burst”; both of which were breaches of proper gun handling. “POP - POP - POP”, three rounds blasted out of the end of his barrel in a deafening roar as Tak was pushing the rifle downward. The first round hit Tak in his inner right thigh while the other two went between his legs into the couch and floor. Tak fell to his right side in pain. Tango’s reaction was instantaneous; he sprung on the young soldier, latching on to his right hand and ripping it out of the trigger guard while dragging the man to the floor. The other soldiers were pushing in behind the boy with their guns up, anxious to get into the firefight, as they had been trained to do. Now that shots had been fired it would natural for them to rush in shooting first and asking questions later.

  CHAPTER 11: WE FOUND HER!

  A n hour later Tadashi was showered and dressed in a clean black kimono, as the current upper class of Japan was prone to wear. His had a sheen to it since it was woven from nano-Kevlar fibers, which made it cost more than the average home in his country. He reported to his father in the computer room on the first sublevel of the complex. Two muscular short haired servants wearing brown kimonos with similar nano-kevlar sheens, Nobu and Shinji, were standing nearby. They had grown up in The Order alongside Tadashi and were his personal servants. They served as sparring partners in his training and were sworn to obey his every command. Their lives had been pledged to him since before they were born. Nobu was almost six feet tall and Shinji was a half a foot shorter, but thickly muscled. Both men were darkly tanned from spending countless hours under the sun training with Tadashi. The room was abuzz with an unusual amount of excitement; workers scurried to various computer stations and spoke hurriedly in their native Japanese. Tadashi gave a slight bowed upon walking up to his father, “Father; you summoned me?” His father grabbed him by both shoulders and spoke with a smile, “Son, we found her! Chika… my treacherous bitch of sister… we finally found her! It turns out she moved to the United States and changed her name 31 years ago!” He pointed to a computer monitor that had a newspaper article pulled up. On it was a picture of Tak in his police uniform along with several other officers on the Marion Illinois Police Department in front of a recently bombed building. At the same time a copy of the photo came out of a nearby printer, which Hayato picked up and handed to his son. “One of our technicians found this last night. Apparently this department was just destroyed in a bombing, but a few officers survived.” Hayato pointed to the image of Tak and then to the caption below the picture that listed all of the pictured officer’s names. “Takamura Graves. Who in the hell names an American kid Takamura? And look at him… just look at him! I’d know he came from the cursed loins of my sister at just a glance. I’d bet my life on it. He’s a damn half breed… obviously mixed with some round eye! Can you believe that? He’s a disgrace to the Takamura line… a disgrace to The Order!”

  Hayato was brimming with excitement than Tadashi had ever seen as he squeezed and shook his shoulders. “Son, this is it! Are you ready to go restore honor to our family? Are you ready to go retrieve our sacred sword and family history book? Are you ready to kill this bastard half breed?!” Tadashi locked eyes with Hayato and immediately spoke. “Yes father, of course. It will be my greatest honor.” “Good… I expected nothing less from you, boy. You are strong and able; I have made sure of that. You have been trained well. Our entire future rests on your shoulders. You’ll leave right away. Our private jet will take you over there. You’ll fly directly to St Louis International Airport. From there an agent of the Order will help you acquire a suitable vehicle. Nobu and Shinji will of course be accompanying and assisting you on your journey.” With that both nearby servants bowed deeply and respectfully to Tadashi. They knew their place. “You’ll go to Marion Illinois and find the half breed and the stolen items. Once you have dispatched of him and retrieved the items you will return home. You will of course be well-provisioned and equipped for the start of your journey, at least. You’ll be able to be in constant contact with our tec
hnicians and I here where we’ll be monitoring your progress, as long as our satellite and your phones remain functional. However don’t doubt it son, this is a dangerous quest. I would prefer to do it myself but I cannot leave the emperor’s side for that long. The economies of the world are crashing as we speak. You might find acquiring transportation and provisions… difficult if you do not succeed quickly. But no matter how long it takes, you must not fail in this quest Tadashi! The future of The Order depends on your success.” Tadashi again bowed to his father, this time very deeply and with a serious expression. “I understand, father. I will not fail.”

  Just then an assistant came up to Hayato and handed him a hard black plastic case. He took it and the assistant bowed and took a couple steps backwards before turning to leave. “Ahh yes… you should find this device helpful in your quest.” Hayato sat the box down, opened it and removed a small black plastic electronic device from within a foam cutout. It looked like an old style handheld GPS with a circular radar screen and a thick, 4-inch tall antenna on its side. “This is old technology, but it should still work fine. About 40 years ago my father had a tiny tracking chip epoxied on the end of the tang of the sword, underneath the handwraps. This tracker will detect it when you are within about a mile or so from it. You just need to keep good batteries in the tracker and have it on at all times. There are extra batteries in the box. When you get close the sword will show up as a red dot on the screen and it will give out an audible beep, which will beep faster as you get closer. That is assuming the chip hasn’t been removed from the sword. My sister didn’t know about it so hopefully it is still there.” Tadashi nodded, “I understand. Thank you father.”