by Adam Smith
Shoppers were screaming and running, except for a few idiots who had pulled out their phones to take gunfight selfies.
Gunfire poured in from both sides, and Max and Kate fought back-to-back. “You know, Max,” Kate yelled between shots, “this is kind of like a date.”
“Lady, if your idea of a fun date is slaughtering an army of dirtbags,” Max shouted as he pumped lead into a trio of gangsters rushing their position, “I’ll take you out anytime you like.”
The two fugitives finally killed the last few businessmen in their area. From far down the boulevard to their right, Max could hear more men shouting and running, but the immediate vicinity was clear. “Come on,” he told Kate as he ran to the left. Kate’s boots thumped on the laminated tiles behind him as she followed.
Ahead of them sat clusters of beige plastic tables and shoddy plastic chairs. Restaurants ringed another exit in a semicircle of neon and grease. Max hadn’t eaten since breakfast and every subsequent meal had been denied to him through violence, so as they passed the tables full of hastily abandoned meals, his stomach rumbled. The ex-cop was prepared to ignore the food until he spotted an unopened burrito on a table just twenty feet away. Despite his urging Kate along through both of her favorite shops, his feet came to a sudden halt.
“Hey,” Kate skidded to a stop just behind him. “What are you doing? Come on, Max, we need to go!”
Max’s hunger tugged at him. He was starving. Ravenous. He’d even eat a greasy napkin at this point. Bullets tore through the air all around them and shattered the plastic tables and chairs between Max and the burrito. Still, Max hesitated. Through the hail of gunfire, he gazed at the burrito with smoldering hunger in his eyes.
Kate’s insistent hand yanking on his wrist finally pulled Max out of his trance. With a sigh, he turned away from the burrito and allowed the blonde woman to lead him toward a side exit through an emergency door.
A loud alarm blared as Kate shoved through the door. Max slammed the metal door behind them and dragged a heavy stone bench into place to block it. Despite the barrier, bullets punched through the door and left ragged holes, and Max knew the obstacle wouldn’t buy them much time.
The two found themselves in a dingy alley behind the shopping mall. The alley stretched in both directions only a short distance before turning back toward the building and out of sight. Puddles of questionable water gave off a sharp stench. Rotten boxes piled beside a metal dumpster and a light coating of dusty mud across the paved ground gave further testament to the recent rain.
Three homeless men sat beside the dumpster clutching sheets of paper and rolling colorful dice. One vagabond with 1950’s style glasses was leafing through a large book with a dragon battling an armored warrior on the cover.
A black sedan screeched to a halt at the right corner of the alley. Before either Max or Kate could respond, a gangster in a black suit hopped out and pointed a grenade launcher in their direction.
Plastic clanked on asphalt, and the homeless guy in the retro frames sighed at his purple die. “Figures. A natural one.”
“Get down!” Max screamed at the bums. He tackled Kate to the muddy ground and wrapped his body around her in a desperate attempt to shelter her from the coming destruction. The thump of the grenade launcher echoed in his ears.
The wall behind them exploded in a shower of concrete. The metal dumpster clanged as debris pulverized the alley, and the three bums shrieked as they died. Chunks of cement rained down on Max, bludgeoning his head and shoulders in a merciless hail of shrapnel. His nerves sang out in a chorus of agony as shrapnel tore into his body. Underneath him, Kate was screaming his name into his chest.
The destruction was over in seconds, but to Max it seemed like hours of fear and pain. A cloud of dust filled the alleyway and cut visibility to zero.
Dazed and nearly senseless, Max barely felt Kate shove him aside as she rolled out from beneath him. She got up and ran toward where the enemy car had been. Max tried to reach for her and call her back as she disappeared into the cloud of billowing dust, but his voice wouldn’t work. Nausea hit him in a rolling wave. He vomited in the dusty mud. Max got to his hands and knees and tried to crawl but couldn’t remember which way Kate had gone.
Thumping sounds rang out through the alley, muffled like the volume had been turned way down. Max couldn’t tell if they were quiet footsteps or gunshots, but the noises got louder, and he heard glass shattering as his hearing slowly returned.
After either a few minutes or a few hours, Kate came running back. She had the grenade launcher slung on a strap over her shoulder. She ran to Max and helped him climb to his feet. It took another few moments for his head to clear. Kate gazed at him with concern until he was able to speak enough to gurgle, “I’m fine. Car salvageable?”
Kate shook her head. “Gas tank got ruptured in the fight. We’re walking. Come on, I’ll help you.”
Max wasn’t yet able to walk on his own. Kate had to help him along with an arm underneath his shoulder and across his hip. Leaning on the shorter woman for support hurt his pride, but he knew they were short on time. The two of them walked together to the left and hurried down the alley away from the battleground.
As they stepped to the mouth of the alley, Max heard the familiar thump-thump-thump of a circling chopper. He groaned as he stood up straight. With a few stretches, he discovered his injured leg would mostly support his weight. Kate still had to hang on to his arm to steady him, but at least he’d be able to run on his own two feet.
“That helicopter is our biggest problem,” Max growled. “He’s going to hunt us until he guns us down. We need to get up higher to take out that bird.”
Kate pointed down the block from where the helicopter was circling. “Can we use that?”
Max looked where she was pointing. Several flights of metal stairs wound upward to a platform high overhead. He and Kate were standing almost directly underneath the San Pajita monorail track.
“Yeah,” Max agreed. “We can definitely use that. Let’s get up there. We’d better use the stairs because that elevator will turn us into sitting ducks.”
The two fugitives bolted from cover and headed toward the stairs.
The helicopter pilot immediately leveled off to rush up the street at them.
Two pairs of boots thundered on the pavement as the fugitives ran for their lives. Kate held tight to Max’s arm to keep him from wobbling. Each of them clutched their guns, and Kate’s paper bag with her treasured purchases fluttered behind her like a blocky streamer.
The machinegun opened fire just as the two reached the base of the steps. Bullets chewed up pavement and threw cement shards into the air as Max and Kate hurled themselves up the first flight of steps and rounded the huge stone pillar. The pilot was forced to circle carefully to get them in sight again. By keeping close to the inside of the stairwell, they were able to maximize their cover, but time and again the machinegun poked into view and demolished the flooring behind them or blew apart the railing just over their shoulders.
Max’s legs burned as he threw himself up the last set of steps. The staircase led to a long, open-air train stop with red sheet metal awnings on spindly poles. The white monorail pulled up to the platform just in time, and the doors popped open in invitation.
Instantly, the helicopter rose into view. Kate tossed Max down on the cement floor, dropped her pistol and bag, and pulled the grenade launcher off her shoulder. Her beautiful face twisted up in a snarl of rage as the blonde baker took aim at the open side door of the helicopter.
“I haven’t had a date in months! Stop ruining this for me!” the blonde baker roared as she squeezed the trigger.
The grenade launcher thumped and chucked the projectile through the air. The explosive flew through the open door and rattled around inside the cockpit before detonating in a spectacular blossom of fire. All the windows on the cockpit blew out.
The fuel tank on the chopper ruptured and caused a secondary explosion even bigger than the first as the helicopter erupted into flames. The pilot and gunner were incinerated, their corpses launched from the flaming wreckage as the chopper spun out of control.
Beneath the monorail track, a swarm of black sedans screeched to a halt. The burning helicopter plummeted to the ground and crushed the cars, causing more explosions to rip through the street and toss vehicles and gangsters around like leaves in a hurricane.
Kate snatched up her pistol and bag, grabbed hold of Max, and dragged him to the open doors of the monorail.
“I guess we’re lucky this train is automated,” Max said, “otherwise the driver would have panicked and taken off without us.”
As she dragged him, Kate sputtered with laughter. Max didn’t know why she was laughing, except she was probably exhausted.
The two crossed into the air-conditioned train car just in time for the doors to whoosh shut behind them. Kate dropped Max into a seat and flopped down beside him.
Max’s mouth felt dry as a bone. As the train took off and the smooth pull of velocity tugged at his body, he smacked his lips. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for a bottle of water.”
“Um,” Kate said, glancing around. She pointed at a drink vending machine just a few feet away.
“Oh, great,” Max said. “I’ve got no wallet, you spent all your cash on that dress, and those machines are bullet proof. I know, I’ve arrested plenty of guys for trying to shoot their way in.”
Kate reached down the front of her blouse and pulled out a roll of cash.
Max’s eyes popped open wide in surprise as he goggled at her. “How did you…?”
“Those guys in the alley,” Kate explained. “A smart woman plans ahead. I figured we’d need some resources, and criminals love to flash wads of cash.” She grinned, and Max found himself grinning right back.
“Grab us some drinks,” Max told her, “and we’ll plot our next move. While you’re up, see if this car has a first aid kit.”
Chapter 17
A Traincar Named Burrito
Blood oozing from a thousand cuts turned Max into a walking nightmare. Every other occupant of the monorail car quickly shifted through the doors at either end of the long metal tube and found a seat in another area. By the time Kate came back and dropped a bottle of sweetened tea on the seat next to Max, they were alone.
“A whole car all to ourselves,” Kate laughed. “How often does that happen?”
“All it took was a few papercuts and my patented scowl to make it happen.”
“Your patented scowl?” Kate looked skeptical. “How scary can it be?”
Max tried his best to twist his face into an angry, forbidding look, but the effect was somewhat marred by the way he slumped with exhaustion in his seat. Kate just laughed as she plopped down on the seat next to him. The first aid kit she’d scavenged came in a plastic case that popped open when she applied pressure to the two tabs marked OPEN.
Both looked inside the kit and grimaced.
“Not much to work with,” Kate lamented.
“I hate it when women tell me that,” Max replied with a laugh. A sharp pain in his side made him wince and stop laughing.
The expression was not lost on Kate, and she picked up some gauze and rubbing alcohol. “Okay, your shirt is shredded and covered in blood, so I can’t see what needs attention. Get your tank top off so I can see what you’ve been hiding.”
“Not hiding anything,” Max growled, but with slow movements and a few breathy groans he did as she asked. When he’d bared his chest, Kate swallowed with an audible gulp.
Max’s body was covered in a web of brutal scars. Many of them looked like they should have been fatal, meaning Max had probably been saved with the quick application of first aid on the sidelines while the fighting continued. There were so many scars it looked like some Hollywood makeup artist had gone a little crazy trying to make the actor look tough. Her sharp blue eyes traced one ragged, puckered tear which ran diagonally from his right shoulder across both pectorals and ended below his ribcage on the left. As if acting with a will of its own, her hand rose to follow her eyes in tracing the scar. She stopped with her fingertips less than an inch from his flesh and lifted her gaze to meet his.
Max had watched her trace the huge scar with her eyes. “Chainsaw,” he said simply.
Kate’s blue eyes widened. After another frozen moment, she broke eye contact and looked for the new wound on Max’s side. When she cleaned away the blood, Kate saw a clean semi-circle eaten through his flesh from front to back. She guessed a bullet had grazed the side of Max’s ribcage during their shootout in the shopping mall.
Max hissed when she began cleaning the wound with sterilized gauze and rubbing alcohol. The wound was deep, and the burn was probably agonizing, but Max reacted to the pain the way an average man would respond to a minor cut.
“Keep your mind off what I’m doing,” Kate suggested.
“What do you recommend I think about to keep my mind off burning wounds?”
“I don’t know,” Kate murmured, “a good memory?”
“Mm, like getting a handful of your rear end,” Max purred, then yelped in pain as Kate dug her fingers in a little harder than necessary.
“Something else,” Kate ordered through clenched teeth.
Max let his gaze roam through the empty monorail car. On the wall opposite where he was sitting, a garish advertisement screen behind reinforced plastic caught his attention. When the camera mounted within the device detected his gaze the image shifted, and soft music accompanied by a voiceover started playing. A woman with a sensual, husky voice read the words which flashed by.
Flickering images of packed highways and traffic jams filled the screen. “Modern living makes it almost impossible to have a quality meal. Finally, Taco Burger, Jr. has designed a product for your hectic schedule.”
The image changed to show a burly man with rippling muscles holding an enormous clear plastic cup. The product was so huge, it took both of the man’s giant hands to hold the cup steady. Inside the container, Max saw a brownish sludge with white swirls. “Try the new Diet Commuter Burrito. As the only fast food meal containing under two-thousand calories, we’re proud to offer the healthy alternative our competitors just don’t care enough to provide.”
The advertisement shifted again to show a rail-thin brunette woman in a bright yellow bikini. The huge drink rested on a nearby table because her tiny hands couldn’t fully support it, and she was slurping from the thick straw. To Max, the straw looked more like a hose.
The purring announcer continued: “A blended mixture of beef burrito, hot sauce, vanilla ice cream, and energy drink fuse together to create a vibrant sensation never before imagined by human taste buds. Not only does the Diet Commuter Burrito fulfill you in every way, it also perks you right up after a hard day slaving away for those heartless corporations!”
One more time, the scene shifted to show three children in the back seat of a car. Each kid clutched a slightly smaller version of the massive plastic cup, and the three were happily slurping away at the blended concoction. “To stay in touch with our customers’ needs,” the woman continued, “we also offer the Diet Commuter Burrito Junior, perfect for keeping those long family car rides blessedly silent.”
A black screen appeared with the location of the nearest Taco Burger, Jr. and options for ordering ahead to have the commuter meal waiting for you at home, an irony which was not lost on Max. “Don’t wait,” the announcer purred. Max wondered how often she ate at Taco Burger, Jr. “The flavor of a lifetime is waiting for you.” Then she belted out the famous company slogan: “Taco Burger, Jr. Shut up and eat it.”
“Not even if my life depended on it,” Max muttered.
With a lifetime of practice tuning out advertisements, Kate hadn’t even noticed the announceme
nt playing. She had finished cleaning the wound and was carefully affixing a sterilized gauze patch to Max’s side with some surgical tape. “What was that, Max?”
“I said, how much longer?”
Kate cut the end of the tape with her teeth and flattened the loose edge down on Max’s skin with a pat. “Done.”
“Thanks, Doc. How much I owe ya?”
“Hmm.” Kate slid into the seat across from Max underneath the huge advertisement screen, which was now frozen displaying the default image of the huge cup and its smaller child version. Max carefully avoided meeting the probing gaze of the camera in the center. “How about… you tell me a little bit about yourself.”
Max lifted both arms to rest them along the back of his row of seats. The move stretched the wound in his side and pulled at the surgical tape, but after he got his arms settled they felt good and relaxed. “What do you want to know?”
“I told you about my parents. What about yours?” Kate peered at him curiously. “What sort of parents could create… you?”
Max took a moment to shoot her a stink-eye look before leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. “My parents both moved out of this hellhole of a state. Mom is a saint. She stayed home with me and my brother and homeschooled us, kept us out of the California public school system.”
“Smart idea,” Kate said.
“Right. And Dad was military, US Army Rangers. 75th Ranger Regiment, if you understand.”
“Sort of,” Kate said. “My dad was into military history. Homemaker mother and military father. Sounds like quite the blend.”
“Dad was gone a lot. Always a fire to put out somewhere. I don’t know exactly what work he did, he and Mom kept it pretty quiet. But he made sure my brother and I understood that he worked for the citizens of the United States in defense of liberty and relentless defiance of tyranny in all its forms. He hammered those principles into us as deep as they’d go, straight into the bones. Mom was no slouch, either. Military salary doesn’t buy you a house in a gated community, especially here in California. Plenty of times we had to fight off intruders. Mom kept loaded guns in every room of the house.”
