“We’re getting you out of here, son.”
“But I can fight, sir.”
Teddy Roosevelt looked up and to the right. His hands found the corners of his lapels and he said, “If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn’t sit for a month.”
Mason looked to Glitch for an interpretation but the cyborg only shrugged and said, “You’ve got me with that one, sir.”
The President looked Glitch in the eye. “They’re here for you, son. We’ve got to get you to safety.”
“But where is safe?” Mason asked. “The bears are everywhere and everywhere they aren’t there are Presidents that are now bears and this place is stupid!”
The top half of FDR dropped to the floor in between them, causing both Mason and Glitch to jump back.
“Teddy,” Jefferson’s voice bellowed. “The beacon of Kandallaha is lit. It burns over Prehistoria.”
“We’ll get you there. You’ll be safe behind the walls of Kandallaha.” Roosevelt grabbed Glitch by the shoulder and rushed the man back through the North Room with Mason, Obama and Tyler right behind him.
They were outside and down the cobblestone pathway before Glitch could ask Roosevelt what he was going on about. “What do you mean they’re here for me, sir?”
The President gave Glitch a toothy grin and put a hand on the cyborg’s shoulder. “You’re a very special person, Glitch. You see—”
There was no giggle this time. There was only a rush of rainbow colored fur as an army of Bearberry Bears raced out of the darkness. Snigglefitz and Scramp. Smartles and Baby Boo. Lilypuff and Bluster.
Teddy shoved Glitch away from the technicolor tsunami and shouted, “Run, boys! Get to the gates!”
“Mr. President!” Glitch protested.
But it was too late. Obama was screaming, “Now let me be clear” as the bears enveloped him and dragged him to the ground. Tyler was panicking as he spun to address each threat. And Roosevelt was too busy kicking bear ass to respond.
The Bearberry screams were cut short as the 26th President of the United States ripped out their speaker boxes with his bare hands. He mashed their CPUs and tore them limb from articulated limb. But it wasn’t enough and soon Roosevelt was overwhelmed by the bear attack.
Glitch screamed as he fired.
The bullets did nothing to stop the onslaught.
Mason grabbed his friend by the collar and pulled him away. “We’ve got to run, Glitch!”
“But the President needs us!”
“The robot President, Glitch. He’s a machine. Now come on!”
Glitch either saw the reason in Mason’s argument or the wall of fur that had now turned its attention to them. The cyborg turned and ran.
The padded paws of the Bearberry battalion sounded behind them, pushing them faster and farther into the park. They could see the signal fire that Jefferson had mentioned and tried to steer their escape toward it, but every turn led them away from the safety of the massive fire.
Another twist, another turn, and they could see the stairs that led to the monorail. Mason was breathing too heavily to shout, so he pointed at the staircase and turned toward it. He kept his head down and ran, feeling like each step could fail and the terrible army of bears would drag him back into the fold. He was out of energy so he turned to willpower to move faster. Only sheer determination drove him on.
Then he was on the stairs. The metal case rattled with each step. If his weight did this, Glitch’s enhanced bulk would all but shake the structure from its supports. He half expected to be thrown off his feet so he braced himself for the shuddering that would no doubt take place.
But it never came.
Mason yelled his friend’s name first and then turned. He should have been right there behind him. But he wasn’t. Glitch was nowhere to be seen. Instead, at the bottom of the steps was Tinklefitz, giving a sarcastic slow clap that was muffled by the fur on his paws.
“You bastards,” Mason said and took a step downward.
The bears took several steps forward. They giggled as they rushed up the stairs toward him.
Mason turned and ran.
19
The Velosseum had been the landmark attraction in Futopia. One of the few thrill rides in the park, it put the visitor in the role of one of the TraceRacers. These resistance fighters from a near future dystopia fought for freedom from the Dark Riders and the iron-fisted government they represented. The cartoon never fully explained exactly how speeding around on futuristic motorcycles helped fight tyranny or free anyone, but it was a popular premise nonetheless.
The scrappy band of TraceRacers were the poor underdogs in the struggle for liberty against the better-funded Dark Riders, and every visitor to the park had a chance to feel the rush of victory over a seemingly unstoppable foe.
Jake, Savant and Commander Mike had made their way to the Velosseum through access tunnels and dark corridors. They now stood in the entryway to the ride itself. The two men wound their way through the maze of metal rails that were designed to keep the crowds in order while the smaller monkey ducked under each rail and encouraged the others to follow.
In the center to the queuing area were the four full-scale bikes like the ones the TraceRacers rode in the show. When the park was in operation, the four characters could be found here welcoming guests and telling them what to expect in their coming encounter with the Dark Riders.
Each cycle was distinct in appearance and obviously designed with a theme in mind. Each was covered in wasteland colors: bare metal, burnt sand and rust red. And each was designed to suit the members of the team.
Bulk, the team’s kind-hearted brute, rode the biggest of the four. His trike had two larger off-road tires up front with a smaller driving wheel in the back. Mite, the juvenile freedom fighter, rode the cycle with the sidecar, which his feisty dog, Bite, occupied. Jayson, the brash one, rode the slickest and fastest machine of the group while the team leader, Melina, rode one that was slightly larger to accommodate a host of gadgets and tricks that the Dark Riders always seemed to fall for.
The four cycles were replicas of the ride vehicles and therefore possessed more safety measures than the ones in the show. Otherwise they looked exactly as if they had been driven out of the show and parked there.
“Dibs on Jayson’s ride,” Savant said with a smile as he mounted the smallest and fastest cycle.
“Not here,” Commander Mike said. “Inside.”
When it debuted, the ride had broken new ground in coaster technology. The traditional train of cars had been replaced with individual experiences. Each visitor rode astride a single cycle. Four riders were launched together as a team and they were pursued by multiple Dark Riders on an independent track. Throughout the ride, the machines ran alongside one another, intersecting each other’s paths, ducking and turning together as if the visitor was engaged in an actual duel with the Dark Riders. It even allowed the guests a certain amount of control as they could switch between tracks at certain points in the ride.
This chaos had been carefully coordinated and the ride boasted a perfect safety record through all trials and tests. It was one of the safest rides ever created, right up until the machines went nuts and started killing everyone. But that was hardly the engineers’ fault. Animatomaton safety was a different department altogether.
Lights flickered and flashed as the Monkeynaut led the two men through the abandoned ride. They made their way through the half-dark corridors, stepping over debris and the Dark Riders’ shoddy handiwork. The rail that had once directed the cycles along the ride ran through the entryway and out into the streets, and the Riders had torn up everything that had been in their way.
The group turned a corner that led down yet another darkened hallway. Insets in the walls continued to tell the story of the TraceRacers and the world they fought to save. These displays depicted the rise of The Ordinance, an oligarchy of elites that had selflessly volunteered to save humanity from its own foils. They
rode a wave of popular support that demanded the government end its corrupt ways by instilling more government programs. But, you know, “good ones this time.”
Another inset identified the TraceRacers as criminals, brigands and impediments on the road to freedom. Their likenesses were depicted on wanted posters and news clippings that announced their eventual capture at the hands of the Dark Riders. Their lives had been found forfeit and they were sentenced to ride in the Velosseum for the entertainment of the good citizens.
The final insert had been “vandalized” by those that supported the TraceRacers. Images of the Ordinance had been drawn upon with fake mustaches and devil horns and the TraceRacer cry “Ride to Freedom” had been spray painted across the entire insert.
It was an interesting enough tale, but the group found what they were looking for around the next corner.
An area entitled Launch Bay was where the lines ended and the ride began. Here the guests would transform from parkgoers into TraceRacers four at a time from open to close. Now it sat empty. No riders. No cycles. Nothing.
Commander Mike scurried along the entry ramp and disappeared behind the operator’s podium. He pried open a control panel and hit the switches inside so quickly that it wasn’t clear if he knew exactly what he was doing or if he was guessing at a rapid pace.
Either way, things were happening.
First came the lights. They were moody, giving off the same rusted red found on the TraceRacer cycles. Sound followed as the prerecorded track fired up, addressing the guests as freedom riders, underscoring the importance of both the fight ahead and the need to make sure the safety straps were properly fastened. The VO concluded with a triumphant, “Now, ride to freedom!” This was followed by several large clunks as a doorway opened and four new TraceRacer cycles were fed into the Launch Bay.
Savant chuckled and leapt on Jayson’s sleek cycle. He twisted the handle and the engine responded. The TraceRacer cycles didn’t hum and scream like the Dark Riders’ cycles. They roared with the sound of gas-fed explosions and freedom. When he turned to look at Jake, he was smiling a grin he would probably not want the world to see. Savant prided himself on never getting too excited about anything that wasn’t his own doing. But now he seemed to forget all about looking cool and twisted the throttle once more.
Commander Mike slammed the control console shut and bounded across the platform. The monkey leapt into the air and landed on Melina’s cycle. “Get on. Get on.”
Jake swung a leg over the cycle and strapped himself in. He could feel the engine rumbling beneath him. He couldn’t resist a smile when he twisted the throttle either. The machine roared and bucked in its stall.
“Wait,” Commander Mike said and pointed to a countdown clock farther down the tunnel.
Savant revved his engine several more times. Jake could almost hear his grin.
“Are you actually having fun?” Jake yelled.
The smile disappeared when Savant looked his way. “Of course not,” he said. Then he grinned and revved the engine some more.
The clock reached three and a panel opened ahead of them in the darkness. Light filled the pathway before them and the roar of a bloodthirsty and non-existent crowd was piped through the speakers.
Two.
One.
Launch.
Whatever mechanism was holding the cycles back released with a clang and the vehicles shot forward. They quickly reached the end of the tunnel and plummeted down to the bottom of the Velosseum where they leveled out and shot across the arena floor.
Jake twisted the throttle on Melina’s cycle and smiled when he discovered that it actually increased his speed. Savant had discovered the same thing and blasted past him and back up the wall.
The track shot up and twisted to the right to follow the curve of the arena wall. This was all a part of the ride’s design. At this point the Dark Riders would appear and the scripted duel would begin. Jake could see where the visitor had been offered choices in their ride, where the rail diverged. But now the split tracks were missing or twisted so badly that there was no longer any choice at all. He was pretty certain the gaping hole in the wall wasn’t part of the original track layout either. But they were going through it whether they wanted to or not.
Both cycles screamed through the hole as the track’s pathway became less obvious. The ride’s veneer was gone and the track twisted through the building’s structural framework as the effect of the cheering crowd faded into the distance behind them.
There was one more dip and a sudden rise before they shot out of the original ride and into the streets of Futopia. Here the repurposing of the track became more obvious. As resourceful as the Dark Riders seemed, they weren’t engineers. The track rattled beneath Jake and tossed him around as they crossed portions of the rail that weren’t anchored to the ground. His stomach warned of a vertical sway indicating the rail wasn’t exactly level. But they rode on and soon found themselves making split second decisions as rails merged.
It was only on the second turn that the Dark Riders spotted them and the enforcers gave chase. Two Riders quickly grew to four and then to seven. Every intersection Jake and Savant passed had another Dark Rider rushing to join the pursuit.
Nine cycles now shot along the track at full speed. The underdog storyline attached to the TraceRacers meant their cycles were cobbled together from good old fashioned know-how instead of industrial efficiency. This meant they were faster than those made by The Ordinance. But not by much.
Jake kept his throttle wide open as the monorail’s raised beam came into view. He yelled at the monkey on his back, “Are you sure this will work?”
“Sure.” Commander Mike said and pointed at the track ahead. “Go up. Go up!”
The rail climbed. It bowed under the cycles’ weight as this segment was attached to nothing. It looked more like a stretched cable than a rail of any kind.
Jake chased Savant up the line. Balance was on them now. Any support they had found on the ground was gone and Jake fought the heavy cycle to keep it upright until they reached the top. There the Velosseum rail disappeared and the cycles slowed.
“What the hell, monkey?” Savant yelled as he kicked at his cycle.
Commander Mike scurried to the top of Jake’s shoulder and pointed at the metal strips that had once powered the monorail. “There!”
Jake drifted to the right until the cycle was aligned with the flat rail. The acceleration almost pulled him from the bike as he shot past Savant. Without the rail to guide him, he was in control of the cycle so he eased off the throttle and focused on the beam ahead. It was a twenty-foot drop on his right and getting higher the farther he went.
Savant pulled alongside and smiled. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is a great ride.”
The rail curved ahead and Jake prepared to bank with the turn.
The Dark Rider crashed into his rear tire and sent him skidding to his left. He slid within an inch of Savant before regaining control.
The Dark Rider that struck had been forced to the outside of the rail. Jake kicked at the cycle and sent it flying from the beam and crashing into the ground below.
A second Rider pulled alongside him on the inside track as they banked. The Rider reached out and made a grab for Jake’s throttle. The enforcer was close to succeeding when the Monkeynaut landed on its head and covered the machine’s visor.
The Dark Rider grabbed for the monkey to clear his field of view but Commander Mike had already pounced onto the Rider’s handlebars.
When the machine made a grab for the Monkeynaut, Mike leapt back to the Rider’s shoulder while pulling at the handlebar with his tail. The monkey landed back on Jake’s cycle just as the Dark Rider shot off the edge of the beam.
The track straightened and Savant shot ahead. Jake switched back to the powered strip on the right side and sped up. They were coming to the edge of Futopia. Up ahead the neon lights gave way to the more contemporary illumination that lit the park’s walkway in betwee
n the different lands.
Commander Mike yelled in Jake’s ear, “They’re gaining!”
Jake looked over his shoulder and saw the five other Riders closing in. He turned back and yelled at the monkey, “Can you drive this?”
“Um, I fly an intergalactic rocket ship beyond the speed of light, I think I can handle one of these.”
The Monkeynaut climbed down in front of Jake and grabbed the handlebars.
Jake let go of the throttle and reached for his gun.
They slowed instantly and the lack of momentum caused them to wobble.
Jake jumped for the handlebars and fought to steady the cycle. He regained control and opened the throttle. “I thought you said you could drive it!”
“I said I thought I could! Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Well can you hand me my gun?”
The monkey reached under Jake’s left arm and pulled out the pistol.
Jake took it in his left hand and turned to fire.
It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, firing backwards with his off hand while driving a futuristic motorcycle down a narrow monorail track. Making the shots count was even more difficult. So, he went with a quantity over quality approach and fired till the magazine was empty.
There’s no telling which bullet hit the Dark Rider’s cycle, but the lucky shot tore out the front tire of one of the bikes and sent the Rider crashing into his partner.
The pair behind them crashed into the fallen bikes, and their Riders flew forward onto the beam as their cycles flipped through the air behind them. The fifth Rider was trapped behind the wreckage and forced to stop completely.
Jake laughed at his luck then saw Savant drop behind him as the man slammed on his brakes.
Before Jake could think, “What the hell?” the monkey was screaming, “Watch out!”
Jake whipped his head forward and spotted a man in the middle of the monorail track, waving his arms and generally panicking.
Jake cursed and slammed on his own brakes. The cycle responded by lurching up on the front wheel and skidding to a stop inches in front of Mason.
Junkers Season Two Page 15
