Date: 2015-02-27 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Science Fiction; Humor; Post Apocalyptic; Fantasy; Comedy; Dystopia; Action
Description: The end of the world as you've never known it.A price on their heads has driven Jerry the post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior, Erica and their loyal mastiff west in search of a new beginning. But when their truck breaks down in what was once southern Colorado they are swept into an epic quest at the behest of King Elias, ruler of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. On their quest they will meet old friends and new foes, mutant cannibals, savage mountain men, fearsome knights and much, much more.Powered by gold and driven by steam, the kingdom has risen from the ashes of the apocalypse into a realm of

Knights of the Apocalypse
A Duck & Cover Adventure

Benjamin Wallace

Copyright © 2015 by Benjamin Wallace.
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and, frankly, kind of embarrassing for you. Especially if you’re anything like Tommy.

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Prelude

Just before the world ended, people hated the word moist.

Poverty was still a problem. Terrorism was a big issue at the time. Genocide was always happening somewhere. But you had to be careful when using the word moist. It was acceptable if you were describing cake, but if you used it in any other sense you were sure to get a talking to.

Most people didn’t know a terrorist personally. If we had, then maybe more of us would have told them off with stern words and clever slogans.

You couldn’t yell at poor people at all. It wasn’t acceptable. You couldn’t even wonder out loud why they were poor without being an insensitive ass. You couldn’t even suggest a new solution to the problem without being labeled horrible things.

Perhaps it was this lack of outlet that caused so much frustration regarding the word moist. We couldn’t do anything about international terror or rampant poverty, but we could always chastise a friend for using a word that made them uncomfortable.

Maybe this is why so much effort was put into hating the word. They scorned their friends whenever it was used and followed the scorning with a two-minute rant about how much they hated the word. They spent time and creative resources developing flowcharts for when the word was appropriate and clever cartoons to express just how much it annoyed them when it was used outside of cake references.

They shared all of this on social media and built a wall of criticism that kept people in check. We could shut out what we didn’t want to hear. We felt free to berate anyone who thought different than us. By doing this, we fought the good fight. We were activists despite our inactivity.

Moist was a line drawn in the sand and we stood behind our walls daring anyone to cross it.

It may seem silly now. It may seem that our outrage was misdirected, but it made us feel safe. We stood behind our walls fighting our own battles against the things that offended us most. Times were good as long as the real problems were well outside our walls.

Things changed after the end of the world. The real threats were closer. Danger was more of a concern than emotions. Dead bodies were scarier than hurt feelings. Our walls became real and we fought like hell to keep the threats on the outside.

But people still didn’t like the word moist. And there wasn’t any cake to talk about.

An entry from the journal of the Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warrior dated “after”

ONE

Martha’s first thought was to complain about her hair. It was a mess and smelled like whatever had been pouring out of the train’s smokestack. She wasn’t happy and her husband deserved at least a little grief for getting seats on the gondola instead of one of the enclosed cars. Yes, it had been a beautiful view, she supposed, but it was hard to appreciate Mother Nature’s majesty when the bitch was howling through your hair.

First, she would remind him how much a day at the stylist cost him. That always made him twitch. Then, she would point out how he should appreciate how much she looked after herself. Other wives let themselves go, but not her. The stylist, the salons, the shopping—she did for him, of course and he should be more grateful.

Furthermore, she would suggest that, if he truly loved her, he would upgrade the return tickets to a passenger car with windows to keep the wind out of her hair.

Finally, after she saw the town, she decided that they wouldn’t need the tickets because she was never going home again.

Silverton was a perfect town in every way. Nestled in a valley between several snow-capped peaks, it was a place frozen in time. It was quaint. It was picturesque. It was postcard perfect. She confirmed this when she purchased several at a shop in town. This was where she belonged and she knew it. Martha didn’t tell her husband this right away. But she also decided not to complain about her hair. Not until later, anyway.

Historical buildings lined the streets of the old mining town and they spent the day walking among them and browsing the gift shops while Martha formulated her plan. No one rushed about. Life back home was too hectic. She belonged here in this perfect little place where everything slowed down to the pace life was supposed to be lived. She deserved this.

Bill was successful and she had been a part of that success. She had always supported him from the home—raising kids, keeping the house, and, of course, taking care of herself for him. But the kids were out on their own now, and the house was too big. They both knew it. Just the other week they had been talking about downsizing. It wasn’t coincidence that they came here now. It was perfect.

All day she had thought of ways to tell him. There were a hundred ways to say it, but not many that he would listen to.

A cafe on the edge of town was like a thousand other cafes they had seen. And she was certain the coffee wasn’t a special blend or prepared in any special way. Maybe it was the altitude that made it so exceptional. Or it could be the view. She stared out the window at the mountain peaks and her excitement got the best of her. “We should move here.”

It wasn’t the subtlest way to bring it up, but she didn’t care. She was so overwhelmed by the idea—he had to feel it, too. It was perfect for them.

“You’re being silly.” He slurped from his coffee cup the way she hated.

“I am not being silly. This place is wonderful.” She put her chin in her palm and stared out the window. The air was so still. Even nature didn’t want to change a thing about the town. “I can’t believe you don’t think so.”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Then why not?” she asked. “Why not move here?”

The cup clinked as he set it back in the saucer and he turned from the mountain view to look at her. “What would we do here? This is a perfect example of being a great place to visit, et cetera, et cetera.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“The et cetera, et cetera?”

“Yes.”

“I know you do.” He smiled and winked at her.

“And what do you mean, ‘What would we do here?’ We’d do exactly this.”

“Drink coffee?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took a sip from her own cup. It was a perfect cup of coffee.

“All day? Every day?”

“Now you’re the one being silly,” she said. “Of course we wouldn’t just drink coffee. But we could start every day right here. We could just take our time and look at the mountains and not rush to do anything.”

He looked back out the window at Little Giant Peak. “Those are some pretty mountains.”

“So, there you go. You agree with me. I saw a real estate office just up the street. We’ll drop in and …”

He slurped another sip and put the mug down with a clink. “But what would we do, Martha?”

“What if we just did nothing, Bill? You’ve worked your entire life. I’ve always stayed busy with the kids. Maybe we’ve earned some time to just do nothing.”

“We’d kill each other.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

“We’d go stir crazy within a week. We’d get tired of walking up and down Main Street and start staying home. Then we’d start doing things to get each other riled up because it’d be the only entertainment we’d have. Then one day I’d go too far—maybe I’d leave the toilet seat up and that night you’d smother me with a pillow.”

Martha smiled. “You know I could never hurt you, dear.”

“I’d straight up murder you,” Bill said.

She smiled at him. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would. I’d murder you and I’d hide your body in one of the abandoned mines.”

Martha pouted and crossed her arms. “You’d never get away with it.”

“I would, too. I’d act really sad and just tell everyone that you went for a hike and most likely got eaten by a bear. I think they’d believe me. It probably happens all the time.”

“Eaten by a bear? I don’t think they would believe that.”

“No?”

“No.”

Bill raised his cup. “Mountain lion it is, then.”

“You’ve really put some thought into this.”

“Well, it was a long train ride and you were more concerned about your hair than talking. I had to think about something.” He smiled that damn crooked smile that appeared every time he wanted to make it clear he could read her mind.

She hated that smile as much as loved it. “You think you’re so clever.”

“I am clever. That’s why I know you wouldn’t like it here.”

She put her coffee down. A drop of brown sloshed onto the saucer. “I would love it here. And you would, too. We’d find something to do. We could open up a bicycle shop and rent bicycles.”

“They have a bicycle shop.” Bill pointed out the window and across the street. “It’s right there.”

“I know. That’s where I got the idea.”

“I don’t know if this town is big enough for two bicycle shops.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a bicycle shop.”

“I doubt they’d appreciate the competition. They’d probably ride us out of town.”

Martha rolled her eyes and smiled. “Don’t start.”

“Do you think they’d use our bicycles or their own to ride us out of town?”

“Stop it.”

Bill rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’m not sure of the protocol.”

“Stop it.”

“They’d probably make you ride on the handlebars. There’s no reason to waste two perfectly good bikes.”

“Now you’re just teasing me. I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Fair enough.” Bill turned back to the window and slurped his coffee.

Martha stared at the mountains. “What if we …?”

Bill sighed. “That didn’t last.”

“Quiet. What if we opened a little cafe?”

Bill looked around the little cafe and feigned confusion.

“You’re terrible.”

“Honey, the only business this town could support is another souvenir shop. And selling thimbles with tiny mountains on them would make me want to murder everyone—not just you.”

“Well, if you’re so smart, what do you think we could do?”

He leaned over his coffee and thought for a moment. “Now that I think about it … I think we’d do great giving wives guided mountain lion tours.”

Martha gave him his own crooked smile back and said, “We’d make a killing.”

“That we would.”

“We could call it Widower Maker tours,” Martha said.

“I can hear the jingle now.”

They both laughed for a moment before Martha continued. “I know you’re joking, but it’s not a bad idea. I’d kill to live out here.”

“I know you would, honey. So, I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.” Bill leaned back in his chair and slurped away.

Martha leaned back, too, and looked out the window that faced Little Giant Peak. Her husband may be right. Perhaps one day she would grow bored. But, at this moment, she knew she could stare at the mountains forever.

# # #

He’d been staring at the damn mountains forever—four and a half hours, thirty-seven days, and two years by his count. Yeah, yeah, they were pretty. Snow-capped peaks soaked up the moonlight and spit it out across the town like some majestic night-light, blah, blah. And it was better than looking out across a desert like so much of the world had become. But when it’s your job to stare at anything for hours, you learn to hate whatever it is you’re staring at.

And, in all those years, days and hours of staring, Lee Graves hadn’t seen a thing. Not anything worth yelling about, anyway. Once there was a mountain lion. At least, he thought it was a mountain lion enough to draw his sword and run the other way. But by the time he’d built up the courage to move closer, the creature had either scurried away or had been a shadow, or a log, or something else entirely to begin with.

When they assigned him to the position in the Night Watch, they had told him it was a great honor. The Watch’s sigil was a fierce owl with eyes that shone green. He had  draped it proudly over his shoulders and spoke the oath of the Watch: We look into the darkness of night so others may see dawn’s light.

The Watch stood guard over the helpless, the innocent and the tired. It was a living wall that stood against the threat of cowards that would strike in the night and against any dangers the post-apocalyptic world might send over the peaks to threaten the kingdom’s peaceful inhabitants. The Watch was all that kept the town safe from sundown to sunup. They stood defiant against the cold and the darkness. It was an honor to serve. It was a privilege to serve. It wasn’t until his first moonless watch that he realized the owl’s eyes glowed in the dark and that he’d been conned into the most ridiculous job in the Kingdom of the Five Peaks.

Lee exhaled and watched his breath trail off into the darkness. It was the first thing that had moved in weeks. He stomped his feet against the cold and snow crunched under his boots. He pulled the stupid owl cloak tight around his chest. The eyes had long since lost their luminosity and the glow-in-the-dark paint now cracked and flaked away whenever he moved. Like his own eyes, the owl’s had lost their keenness. As Lee Graves stared into the night, the only thing he looked for was a way off the Watch.

This was simple enough in theory. All a member of the Night Watch had to do was hand his position off to another. Those that had served before him had simply handed their cloak off to the next person that had wandered into the kingdom seeking citizenship. Unfortunately for Lee, the walls of the kingdom had been closed for four and a half hours, thirty-seven days and two years.

Making a deal with one of the others in town had proven difficult. Whenever he asked them to take his place in the Night Watch, they only laughed at him and made fun of the owl on his cloak. He was stuck watching the darkness for invaders that never came, for threats that never appeared. The only way he was getting out was to earn enough to buy his way out of the kingdom.

That’s why when he saw something in the darkness for the first time in two years, thirty-seven days and four and a half hours, Lee Graves tapped the pouch at his side. It jingled and he looked the other way.

TWO

They say an apocalypse changes things. Which is fairly obvious and those that say it are hardly lauded for their insightful nature.

It’s a bomb’s nature to change the landscape a bit. It makes green things brown, tall things short and living things dead. But, more than rearranging the scenery, it changes people.

Those lucky enough to survive the apocalypse developed an odd relationship with the world that was before the blast. Ready electricity and running water were sorely missed. They missed the security of a world free from vicious mutations and roving gangs of bloodthirsty killers. Everybody missed ice cream.

But, as much as they missed the world from before, they had come to hate it. For the nirvana they remembered had led to the hell they now knew. And no matter how nostalgic they were for their old life, they still blamed it for their new one. So they came to grips with the world as it was and adjusted. People were stupid like that.

This love, but mostly hate, relationship led survivors to reject most of the old world in many ways—the least of which was the renaming of cities. Old names were discarded and ignored and new names more befitting the new landscape were chosen.

New York came to be known as The Crater due to the devastation wrought by the multitude of nuclear weapons that made it through the shield and, also, the giant crater. New Orleans flooded in the end times and was renamed The Bowl after the smell that resulted. DC became the Slime Pit since it was generally believed that most of the politicians survived the end by escaping into underground shelters.

Smaller towns faced the wrath of anti-reminiscence, as well. Most often they were named after the inhabiting society’s philosophy. There was no shortage of New Hopes, Democracyvilles or Equalitytowns in the wasteland. There were more than a few Republics and Peacetowns.

Others were less welcoming and simply took their name from the despot in charge. Darian Savage ran Savagetown, Alexander Payne controlled Payneville and Brian “Bloody Fist” Bloodmoon ruled with cruelty over the citizens of Brian’s Town.

Durango, however, retained its pre-apocalypse moniker. The name held the mystical ring of an El Dorado or Shambhala. It was the name of a Western hero—grizzled and respected. Durango was a role only John Wayne could play, had he ever felt man enough.

The word itself meant water town and described nothing more than a stop for thirsty mules or dry steam engines. But its rustic nature stirred such emotion that before the collapse of everything known, it had been applied to a line of trucks. It didn’t make sense calling a truck Water Town, but people didn’t care. It just sounded that cool.

So, Durango kept its name, but its population changed. Like most towns left untouched by a direct strike, the people sat around for a few days waiting to hear from family and loved ones. They waited for food trucks to restock the grocery store. They waited for information. They waited and waited until the walls closed in around them and a fear of not knowing drove them into the unknown looking for their family, food and answers.

Like so many others, Durango, Colorado, became a ghost town. But it did not stay empty for long.

The couple walked side-by-side on the shoulder of Highway 160. The road ran for more than 1400 miles without passing anything interesting. Roadside vistas were of fields or brown rock and dirt.

The man was nearly six feet tall and hid his build beneath a long duster, which, despite the cold wind, he let hang open. Gusts made it billow and caused him to shiver. He walked with his thumb hooked through a rifle sling and kept his eyes on the road ahead and the small ridge of dirt to the side of the road.

The girl was only a few inches shorter and dressed in a more appropriate jacket. A colorful scarf draped around her neck and she kept her chin buried behind it. She had fierce eyes, dark hair and was entirely too pretty.

“You’re too pretty.”

“Thanks, honey.” Her sarcasm was as fierce as her eyes. “You say the nicest things.”

He let his eyes leave the road and he looked into her eyes. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t be walking around looking that good.”

“Stop it, you.”

“How many times have I told you to look uglier before leaving the truck? Looking as good as you do … it could cause problems.”

Erica pouted in a playful way that he enjoyed if no one else was watching. Out in public, however, the look scared him.

“What could happen?” she asked with a crooked grin as she stepped ahead of him. “After all, I’m with the great post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior Je …”

Jerry took her by the elbow and turned her to face him. “No. Not even kidding. I’m Michael Parker and you’re Jennifer Parker. Especially here.”

“You’re right.” Erica’s smile faded and reappeared as a smirk. “What should we call Chewy? They’re looking for her, too. She should get an alias.”

The mastiff stopped and turned at the sound of her name.

“She’s a dog,” Jerry said. “It’s not like we can just change her name and expect her to follow commands.”

Erica folded her arms. “Do you expect to change my name and have me follow commands?”

Jerry chuckled. “We both know you’ve taught me better than that.”

“So,” Erica said. “We might as well give Chewy an alias.”

The massive dog padded back along the blacktop and joined the couple. She forced her head under Erica’s hand, let it sit there and began to pant.

Erica scratched behind the dog’s ears. Chewy sat and leaned closer to ensure a full petting. The weight caused Erica to reposition her feet so she wouldn’t fall into the ditch.

“We’ll call her Benedict,” Jerry said.

“That’s not nice, Mike.”

“You name her,” Jerry started walking towards town. “She’s basically your dog now.”

“Oh, don’t get sore. It’s just because I’m better than you. Isn’t that right, girl? I’m better, right?”

Chewy gave a low woof and trotted ahead of the pair. On point, she sniffed the air and kept her eyes on the road ahead looking for trouble or something to chase. She gave no sense of danger and the couple walked easy.

“Have you been through Durango since the Crappening?”

Jerry laughed. “The Crappening? Where did you get that?”

Erica threw a finger over her shoulder. “That last town we stopped at. That’s what the kids are calling it these days.”

“Well, if that’s what the kids are calling it. Yes, I passed through maybe a year ago.”

“How was it?” Erica asked.

“Like any place with people.” He paused. “Dangerous.”

Erica put her hand on her chest. “Oh, that sounded scary. Were you trying to make it sound scary? Because earlier you said it’s like a mall.”

“I said it was a marketplace.”

She shrugged. “Same thing.”

“Not really. Think of it more like a flea market but with fewer homemade wind chimes and more stabbings.”

“While we’re there we should look for …”

Jerry grabbed her elbow and stopped her again. He tried to speak so that there would be no question. “No.”

She questioned it. “You didn’t let me finish.”

Her hands were cold. He folded them into his own and spoke softly. “No. It doesn’t matter what it is. We get the part we need. We get it back to the truck and move on. The less time we spend there the less chance we’re recognized. Please, tell me you understand.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“No. Not the kind of ‘understand’ that means you’re going to do what you want anyway. This is a trading hub. One of the busiest in the west. This is where rumors spread. We’re taking a huge risk walking in there. I need the ‘if I don’t listen to him we could very well die’ kind of ‘understand.’”

Erica smiled. “Well obviously I meant that kind of understand.”

“Good.” Jerry squeezed her hands gently and let them go. Getting back in the truck and back on the road should be their focus. Not browsing. “Good. And don’t make any sudden moves because the people that run this place are completely nuts.”

Highway 160 connected with US 550 and turned north into Durango. Everything south of the Animas River was abandoned. Ravaged storefronts and the steel frames of prefabricated buildings stood as the skeletons of retail and insurance offices. The steel panels that had once kept the insurance agents out of the wind had been stripped and repurposed farther down the road.

Twin towers rose over twenty feet on either side of the road and barred passage to a bridge across the Animas. Corrugated steel roofing formed their walls but a coat of paint had been applied to give them the appearance of stacked stone. Several banners snapped and popped in the wind looking for attention. The large one draped across the tower entrance gate. Squared at the top and dropping to a point, it bore the skull of a big horn sheep on a field of purpled and edged in gold.

Each tower held a pair of guards that stood with sharp eyes behind a mounted crossbow like he had never seen. From the ground, the bow looked like it was made of leaf springs with thick cable holding back a massive bolt. Several of these lined the edge of the wall to make unloading a leisurely activity.

Several more guards hid from the wind in the shade of the tower crowded around a campfire. Across their chests each guard wore the same mark that draped from above. They clung to it like a blanket as a gust of wind rose up.

The fire was warm as all fires were and Jerry could tell the guard didn’t want to leave its side. The man swaggered forward with a twist in his face to address the travelers. Two others followed behind him making sure their weapons were visible to the visitors by swinging their hips with wide steps. This show was unnecessary. Most eyes were usually drawn to the long swords that each guard wore.

The one with the swagger put on a false smile and held out his arms. Shorter than Jerry by a few inches and rounder by several more, he spoke with what could only generously be called the worst English accent left in the world. “’Ood mornin’, ’ood sir and m’lady. ’Ow are you this feyene day?”

Jerry looked at him sideways. “Fine?”

“Well, ’tis another glorious day in the kingdom, isn’t it thus?”

“I’m sorry, you said kingdom?” Erica asked the guard.

“Ah, ’tis that, m’lady.”

She turned to Jerry. “No heads up on that?”

The guard continued, “Ewe are now at the gates of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. The Silver Kingdom. The Gleam in God’s eye as dey call it thusly.” He winked at one of the other guards. “Right, guv’ner?”

“Why are you talking like that?” she asked.

“Aye’m afraid aye don’t know what you mean, m’lady?”

“All funny. Like you’re trying to sound British but missing.”

“Verily aye speak only in the tongue of the land. Perhaps it is ewe who talks all funny.”

Jerry stepped forward. “I think it’s great. We’d like to go inside.”

The guard nodded. “Ah, of course ewe do. But, first we must see if you are a man of honor or a cad.”

Erica was holding back laughter but it got free. “Who is this guy?”

The guard smiled at Erica. He put the twist back in it and the words escaped with less kindness. “M’lady, aye am Sir Thomas the Sergeant at Arms and a knight of the realm.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Jerry reached for the rifle on his shoulder.

Before Sir Thomas could kiss Erica’s hand, and before Jerry could shoot his lips off, there was a slap across the back of the knight’s head that knocked the smile from his face and the miserable accent from his voice. “Ouch.” Sir Thomas turned and found another knight standing behind him. “Dammit, Dave. I told you to stop hitting me.”

“And I’ve told you to stop talking like an idiot, Tommy. It hurts my ears.” The one called Dave shoved Tommy out of the way and pointed to Jerry. His voice was absent any accent, tone or joy. “You can put that down.”

Jerry pulled his finger from the trigger but hesitated to lower the gun.

“It’s okay.” Dave pointed a thumb at Sir Thomas. “He’s a harmless idiot.”

“Dave!”

“It’s Sir David. And, shut up, Tommy.” Dave turned back to Jerry. “He’s on loan from the castle today. They take things a little far up there.”

Jerry slung the rifle back over his shoulder with an eye on the other guards. They were taking their lead from Sir Dave and made no move for their swords. The crossbows, however, were turned towards him.

“What’s your business here?” asked Sir Dave.

“We’re here to trade,” Jerry said. “We’re looking for a fuel pump.”

Sir Dave looked the couple over. He studied the dog for a moment as well. “Very well. You’ll have to leave your weapons here.”

“But what if I want to shoot something?” Jerry asked. “I use my gun for that.”

“There are no guns allowed in the kingdom!” Tommy shouted. “By order of the king, knights may be only thusly armed,” he drew his sword as he spit out the words, “as thusly.”

“Shut up, Tommy. You’re not even making any sense.”

Erica pointed to Tommy and asked Dave, “What if you need to shoot something?”

Sir David repeated, “There are no guns allowed in the kingdom.”

Jerry dropped the rifle from his shoulder and tossed it to the knight farthest from Tommy. The knight caught it, pulled the round from the chamber and slung it over his shoulder. Erica followed suit as Jerry lifted the back of his shirt and pulled out a black automatic. He gripped it by the barrel and handed it to the knight.

Tommy smiled. “’Ow what about ’er? What say we ’ave ’er lift ’er shirt, eh?”

Erica took a step back.

Tommy took a step forward and found Jerry in between them. Sir Thomas stood his ground and came nose to nose with the man.

Jerry spoke first. “I think it’s only fair that you know this ahead of time. You lose every hand that touches her.”

Tommy whispered without a trace of the bad British accent. “You don’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you.”

The growling was low—less a sound and more a feeling that rumbled from the ground and up through the two men. Jerry kept his eyes locked on the knight’s and spoke softly to Chewy. “It’s okay, Hannibal. He was just about to second guess himself.”

The knight broke his stare and looked at the dog.

Chewy bristled, baring teeth, snorted and sprayed a thick coat of ick across Tommy’s hand.

The knight looked back at Jerry with less determination in his eyes. “Please tell your dog I’m sorry.”

Jerry nodded. “Hannibal. No chewy. He’s okay.”

The growl ceased at once. Chewy sat and started licking Tommy’s hand. Every lap of the huge tongue made the knight shake.

The knight smiled but it was more nerves than relief that caused it. “She understands ‘chewy’?”

Jerry nodded. “It’s not the first time it’s come up.”

“No chewy?” Tommy asked again. “That’s a little weird.”

Jerry stepped away and handed the gun Erica concealed in her waistband to one of the other knights. “Do you want to tell my dog how to talk?”

“No,” Tommy said. “It’s fine.”

Sir David was only partially trying to hide a smirk behind his hand. “You are free to enter the marketplace. But, know this, we don’t tolerate trouble of any kind. Shop friendly or else.”

“Thank you.” Erica turned to Chewy and clicked her tongue.

The dog rushed to her side.

“I don’t think so,” Tommy said. “That dog stays here.”

“But she’s an emotional support dog,” Jerry said.

Tommy put a finger in Jerry’s chest. “It’s a weapon and you know it.”

Chewy growled again.

Tommy pulled back the finger.

Sir David nodded. “We’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Jerry chuckled, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He turned to the dog with his palm to the ground. “Hannibal. Down.”

Chewy whimpered but obeyed. She turned three times and dropped onto the blacktop.

“Stay.” Jerry said and held up a finger. “No … chewy. Stay.”

“She should be tied up, Dave.” Tommy backed away to the shadow of the tower. “I’d feel better if she were tied up.”

Jerry smiled. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” He took Erica’s hand and walked through the gate.

“Hannibal?” she whispered.

“Hannibal. Why not?”

“Nice touch.”

THREE

For all the devastation wrought by the apocalypse, it was sometimes difficult to overlook what it had created.

The glow of a crater could pierce the darkest night with a gentle green hue that, had it been cast by bioluminescent flora instead of radioactive waste, could be considered serene. The chemical weapons that had crippled ships at harbor had formed a terrace for newly spawned plant life leading to the formation of what visitors referred to as the Hanging Gardens of Miami. And here in the marketplace of Durango it managed to turn a crowd of a few hundred into a teaming throng.

Crowds were rare and Erica couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many people in one place.

The people gathered at the terminus of Narrow Gauge Avenue in what was formerly a parking lot for an antique railroad and tourist trap. Merchant booths cobbled together from plywood and metal sheets filled the marketplace in organized rows. Vendors hawked everything from clothes to weapons to souvenirs. It was an odd site to see the merchandise spread across plywood tables while the dealers huddled against a wall to get out of the wind. Erica was used to traders hovering over their merchandise with a bargain to be had in one hand and a gun in the other.

The king’s guard oversaw the relaxed atmosphere. Men bearing the ram’s skull wandered the crowd and watched from elevated positions around the marketplace. Each carried a menacing sword at their side. They didn’t mingle. They didn’t shop. They only watched. Their focus was the kingdom.

“It’s been forever since I’ve seen this many people in one place,” Erica said.

“I know,” Jerry replied. “Watch your wallet.”

Drowsy vendors jumped to their feet as the two potential customers passed their booth.

A man behind a table full of rusted tools smiled and opened his arms wide to highlight his stock. “Tools. I’ve got tools here. I’ve got everything you need. I don’t even know what half this stuff does. But you probably do and you probably need it.”

Erica and Jerry passed by without a glance.

The vendor grabbed a hammer and waved it in their direction. “Look at this. This is a good hammer. You could really fix the crap out of something with this.”

Various blunt objects and spiked sticks filled the next booth. A sheet a plywood leaning against the table declared them to be “handcrafted weapons of extreme excellence.”

“You need a stick? I’ve got sticks. I’ve got a stick with a spike on the end. You need a chain? I’ve got chains. I’ve even got a chain with a spike on the end.”

Again the couple moved by without giving the vendor their attention.

The vendor grabbed one of the sticks from the table. “Look at this. This is a good stick. You could really kill the crap out of something with this.”

An elderly woman stood in the back of the next booth behind a table that stocked the inventory of the town’s souvenir shops. “Tiny spoons. Let everyone know you’ve been here with a tiny spoon. No? How about a koozie? I’ve got koozies. Postcards? Day-Glo T-shirt? Wooden train whistles? Fridge magnet? Dammit, this stuff sucks.”

They passed several booths selling clothes that appeared to be in decent shape. Few things took their toll on a wardrobe like an apocalypse, and Erica cast a glance too long at one of the tables. The vendor stood from his chair and leaned over the table. “Hey, man. Your lady needs new clothes. You can’t dress a pretty lady like that.”

Erica shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“You are that. Maybe you need a fine dress, too? I’ve got some nice tight shirts that would fit you just fine.”

“We’re not interested,” Jerry said.

“Hey, man. I know what you want. I got some sluttier stuff in the back. Some costume stuff, too. If you’re into that kind of thing. I’ve got a Little Bo Peep. Only worn once.”

“Oh, did it not help you get closer to the sheep?” Erica asked.

The vendor snapped back and tried to think of a response.

Jerry and Erica walked on before he could reply.

“I told you that you were too pretty.”

Erica smiled and shrugged.

The booth they were looking for wasn’t covered in merchandise. It simply contained a sign that said “car parts” and the only thing on the table was a pair of cowboy boots that belonged to the vendor. The man was sleeping, maybe. His face was hidden beneath the wide brim of a hat.

Erica cleared her throat and there was no response from the hat and boots. She cleared her throat and spoke. “Excuse me.”

The man didn’t stir but mumbled back, “What do you want?”

“We’re looking for a car part,” she said.

The vendor didn’t move. “Lady, if you don’t have any money, you’d better have nice jugs, because I don’t open my eyes for browsers.”

“We have items for trade,” she said.

The man chuckled. “Then let’s hope you’ve got nice jugs.” He tipped the hat back and examined the couple. He examined Erica twice. “You’re lucky.”

Jerry spoke up. “We’re looking for a fuel pump for a …”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re looking for. If you don’t have king’s gold, I can’t sell you anything.”

“I’ve got gold,” Jerry said.

“If it doesn’t have the king’s face on it, it doesn’t matter.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Erica said.

“They do it every once in a while. Every time they feel there’s too much money out there, they try to draw it back in. Works great, too. As you can tell by my sleeping and everything.”

“We need a fuel pump for a Cummins B-series,” Jerry said.

“I’ve got it. And I’d love to sell it you. But you see that guy over there?” He pointed to one of the knights. “If I trade with you for anything but the ‘coin of the realm,’ we all go to the mines. So get yourself some proper coin or get lost.”

“And how do we do that?” Jerry asked.

The man pointed across the marketplace to the wall of the old train station. “Get a job, you bum. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He laid back and pulled the hat back over his face.

Erica huffed. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“That’s okay. The jugs were worth it.”

Jerry hooked her elbow and walked her towards the board. “I told—”

“Yeah, you told me,” she said. “Next time I’ll ugly up before leaving the truck.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said as they crossed the parking lot.

The wall of the train station was littered with fliers and served as an information exchange. Any town that welcomed outsiders had a similar board. Initially these boards had been covered with messages and letters attempting to reconnect with loved ones. Photos of family were left with rendezvous instructions.

The board served as a news center where unreliable information was shared and rumors were spread. Travelers posted the locations of danger zones, clean water and friendly communities. A modern day version of the hobo code, the boards were meant to be helpful but were soon corrupted. Follow a post to a safe area and you’d be jumped by bandits. Hazardous areas were more likely groups of people wanting to be left alone.

As the apocalypse wore on, these bills turned from missing persons and thinly veiled traps to opportunities. As people got it in their heads that there was no corner of the world untouched by the horror of the holocaust, they tried to rally parties to make their trek across the wasteland safer. Headlines full of promised lands and nirvanas led the bills. Locations were never given. There were just instructions to meet well provisioned and heavily armed.

They stepped onto the wooden platform and Erica scanned the board looking for legitimate job offers. As trading routes became established, the traders often hired muscle to cart goods between established towns and guards to keep the goods safe. There were a handful of these. but a host of less savory “jobs” cluttered the board and kept them hidden. Most contained colorful language and sordid details while another just said, “Wink. Wink. Top dollar!”

The remaining fliers created the biggest concern for the couple. Blood money notices weren’t all that common. Grudges certainly weren’t rare, but finding a person with both a grudge and the money to offer a bounty was. Only the larger governments could afford the luxury of spending resources to hasten an individual’s death.

Erica always kept an eye out for these and she spotted a flier starring them. Jerry “The Librarian,” Erica and “Big Dog” were wanted persons. She put her hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “Jerr … Michael.”

“I see it,” he said. “Don’t point.”

They had made a nation of enemies protecting a Texas town from raiders. Jerry had cost the east coast nation of Alasis a death truck and many men. They had not forgotten. The $100,000-reward made that clear. It was the largest bounty on the board.

“How far do we have to go?” she asked. “How far until this ends?”

“Just a little further. Just a little further and we’ll be able to disappear.”

“I hope so,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it’s this far out.”

Jerry nodded and led her away from the board. “At least it’s an old one. It doesn’t even have our pictures on it.”

A raspy voice from a tortured throat came from behind them. Liquor in the wasteland could not be called homemade even if one was being kind, and those that drank it too often and too heavily were easily identified by the gravel in their voice. The drunk spoke. “Excuse me, sir.”

Jerry and Erica turned to see a half-circle of ten men surrounding them beneath the wooden platform.

The one that spoke held out a sheet of paper with their pictures on it. “Would you mind signing this for us?”

The group of ten laughed. More than a few of them were victims of the hooch and their mocking delight wheezed from their mouths.

One man in the group spoke clearly. He was the tiniest of them all and kept himself better groomed than the rest put together. The majority was dressed in old tarps, rotted sweaters and a general disregard for seeing to that thing on their face. The small man was clean-shaven and wore a fine suit and topcoat. He smiled from beneath a wool fedora and said, “We’re big fans, Librarian.”

“Oh, honey, look,” Jerry smiled. “It’s Mr. Christopher.”

“So, it is. How nice. I really didn’t think we’d ever see you again.”

Mr. Christopher’s fake smile faded. “I’m charmed you remember me. But, I must say I’m surprised to see you so delighted.”

“Of course.” Jerry stepped into the gang of ten and put his arm around Mr. Christopher’s shoulder. He turned the man so he could see around the courtyard. “You see. I’m sure you were told the same thing we were when we stepped into the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. Don’t start any trouble. Fighting will not be tolerated. And all of these men in the fancy jackets?” Several knights had approached the info board. “They’re here to see that we’re men of our word.”

Mr. Christopher nodded. “Oh, I get it now.”

“So you see, Chris? I’m actually delighted you tipped your lame ass hat now. Surprise was on your side. Now that I know you’re here, you don’t stand a chance.” Jerry pointed to the closest knight. “Oh, that one looks particularly nasty. What do you think his name is? I’ll bet it’s something like Sir Punchesalot.”

“Actually,” Mr. Christopher said, “his name is Sir Steven.”

“Sir Steven?”

“Yes. But he does seem rather nasty. That’s why I had to pay him extra.” Mr. Christopher waved to the particularly nasty-looking knight.

Sir Steven nodded and turned his back on the gathering at the board. With this cue, the rest of the knights turned their backs as well. The ram skull glared at the couple from the back of each jacket.

Mr. Christopher smiled again.

Jerry smiled back. “Well, shit, Chris,” he said and punched the smile off Mr. Christopher’s face. Somehow the weaselly little man’s hat stayed on.

Mr. Christopher mumbled, “Get them,” through a mouth full of blood and stumbled out of the circle of men as they began to converge on the couple.

One man wearing a distressed and hideous holiday sweater lunged up the platform towards Erica. She placed a boot across the bridge of his nose and turned him back to the crowd while a second man grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

He reeked of booze and poor decisions. “I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered and stuck his tongue in her ear.

Erica tucked her knees and threw her weight forward. He held her tight as she dropped to the ground and exploded back up, driving the top of her head into his chin. This move was usually followed by the cracking of teeth as the attacker’s jaw was smashed shut. But the snake hadn’t put his tongue back in his mouth and it got in the way.

He let go and clasped his hands over his mouth while trying to swear. It came out a muddled mess and did nothing to stop the blood flow. He screamed and fell to the ground in the fetal position.

Erica looked back into the square. Jerry had laid out one of the men and was a half second from breaking another’s arm.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

The snap of the limb caused the others to back off for a moment. “I’m going to go with run for now. If anything else pops into my head I’ll let you know.”

The man with the busted nose was back on the platform and running towards her. “Can’t kick me now, bitch.” He swung at her with his right.

Erica caught the hand and pulled him toward her. She stepped aside, put her weight down on his shoulder and drove him face first into the wooden platform. Then she kicked him.

Mr. Christopher’s voice was still wet with blood, but his voice was clear enough when he yelled, “Get the girl!”

A scrawny man in a muddy pink ski jacket and a shorter man in what could only be a blanket rushed at her from the edge of the platform. She kicked the man on the ground once more and dashed into the marketplace with them in tow. Three more of the men chased after her. The others attacked Jerry.

There was nowhere to run. Every knight turned away as she approached. The vendors looked to the knights as examples and kept their seats in the corners of their booths. The crowd did its best to stay uninvolved, moving only to get out of the way. There was no safe haven to reach. There was no escape. There was only distance and she was losing that. She could feel the men gaining.

She reached the table of homemade weapons and reached for a stick with a spike on it.

The vendor put his hand on it before she could pull it back. “Coin first,” he said with a grin.

Erica grunted in frustration and ran on.

The men in pursuit reached the table and grabbed several sticks with several spikes in them. The vendor protested, but he simply did not have enough hands to stop them. The knights ignored his pleas for help and the attackers raced on.

Erica looked for any escape, but there was nothing. She spun to face the men and backed up until she bumped into the Durango souvenir table.

“Hello again, dear,” the elderly lady said. “Did you come back for a fridge magnet?”

The crowd in front of the table cleared away as the five attackers reached the booth. They spread out in front of Erica and brandished their sticks with spikes on them.

“Is everything all right, dear?” the woman asked with a fridge magnet in her hand.

The man closest to her tried to make his voice as soft as possible. “We don’t have to make this violent.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” another added.

“Yeah. Just come with us and we won’t hurt you,” another rasped.

The fourth man smiled without teeth and added, “Much.”

The group laughed at this.

Erica dug into her shirt and pulled out a silver whistle.

One of the men laughed. “Oh wow. I haven’t seen a rape whistle in years.”

She placed the whistle between her lips and blew. The whistle shrieked.

The men laughed and closed in slowly.

“Oh, honey,” the woman behind the table said. “I don’t think that worked.”

Erica dropped the whistle back into her shirt and turned to the woman. “Could I borrow a couple of those coffee mugs?”

The woman cast a glance in each direction to make certain the knights weren’t looking and handed over two mugs. One said I Weed Durango with a cannabis leaf standing in for the weed ensuring the sentence made absolutely no sense. The other was a leftover from when the nearby ski resort was known as Purgatory. A kitten with devil horns and large eyes provided an overzealous Purrrrr to the name.

“You can keep them, dear.” The woman ducked beneath the table as the men rushed forward.

The first strike hummed through the air with a wobble as the homemade weapon came crashing down.

Erica rolled to one side. The stick buzzed by her ear and crashed into the table. Key chains, shot glasses, a bobble-headed devil—everything danced as the stick splintered to pieces among the nicks and knacks.

Erica slipped her hand through the mug’s handle and rolled back. The ceramic memory exploded on his cheek as she slapped the mug across his face. Blood and shards of devil-kitten littered the ground as the man dropped cold.

Another man swung for her head.

She had no time to move. All she could do was protect her head. Her arm went up as a reflex and she winced as she caught the club across her forearm. It was going to hurt.

The club folded neatly over her arm as if it was built with a hinge.

The attacker pulled back the splintered stump in disgust. He dropped the broken stick. “These things are terrible.”

Erica shoved a fistful of “I weed Durango” in his mouth and sent him sprawling back into the crowd as the remaining three attackers lined up next to one another.

Witnessing stupid people get wise is one of the few pleasures in life. Watching realization break across their faces as an epiphany moves slowly through their heads and they catch up to the rest of the world is often cause for a celebration of the golf clap variety. But as Erica saw the three men put the math together, she started looking for a way out.

They rushed her together with the sudden idea that she couldn’t stop all three of them at once. Two of the men grabbed an arm each and pulled her to the ground. The third man jumped on top of her.

Erica struggled to get free but the weight was too much. Her arms were pinned. She thrashed about and succeeded only in shaking the whistle down from her shirt. It came to rest on her throat.

The man on top of her smiled, picked it up and held it to her lips. “Want to blow it again?”

Erica turned away from his hand and whatever made his hand smell. “Once is enough,” she said.

The man laughed with a twisted smile of broken teeth halitosis. It lasted only a moment. The laughter turned to screaming as Chewy bit deep into his leg and dragged him off the girl.

The attacker turned to free his leg and spotted the dog. He turned over and the scream of pain turned to fear. There was a noticeable difference in his screams of pain and screams of fear. He kicked at the mastiff with no measure of accuracy, and then both of his legs were bleeding.

The two at her arms let go and scrambled back to the edge of the crowd. For a moment they looked as if they would help their associate, but, after looking at their hands, they stepped farther back into the crowd.

Chewy bit into a fist as the man on the ground tried everything to get free. Every limb that went near the dog’s mouth came back red. After several bites, he stopped punching and tried to calm the dog with pets and promises of dog treats.

Erica stood and faced the other two men. She placed the whistle in her mouth and took a breath.

They knocked over several onlookers as they ran into the crowd leaving their partner to his struggle with the dog. For every foot he crawled, the powerful animal dragged him back two through the dirt. “Help. Stop him. Stop him. Please!”

“He’s a she,” Erica said. “Heel, girl.”

Chewy dropped the man’s foot like a retrieved stick and took her place next to Erica.

The man clutched his hand to his chest and backed away as he struggled to his feet. He found his limp and turned to run as best he could.

Jerry punched him in the face and knocked him to the ground before rushing to Erica’s side.

She smiled and scratched Chewy behind the ears. “Good girl.”

“Now where’s Christopher?” Jerry turned and scanned the crowd for a moment before spotting the stupid hat. “Christopher!”

The man ran like a weasel—wriggling through a wall of knights that had been chasing the dog. Erica pointed to Christopher and screamed, “Seize him,” assuming that’s how things were phrased in a kingdom.

The knights let the man in the hat scurry off as they surrounded the couple. The men in purple and gold drew their swords and held the sharp end toward them. Tommy stepped forward and spoke in his worst English accent, ”Ewe’re unda arrest.”

The man with shards of kitten coffee mug in his face came to and began to stand. Erica kicked him back to sleep and pointed at him. “What? It was …”

“Silence!” Tommy shouted. He leaned in close to the pair and smiled. “You were told not to start any trouble.”

FOUR

Symbols were important.

Despite being let down by every government on the planet, most family members and almost every friend, people yearned more than ever for something to believe in. Every society, no matter how small or cobbled together, had a flag. More often than not it was painted on the side of a building in the center of town. And more than one burgeoning society had collapsed in a dispute over what that flag would look like.

People needed something that felt more permanent than a rousing speech or simple promise. A symbol was physical proof that hope could exist. And the more elaborate the symbol, the more it could be trusted. Thought went into a flag. Labor went into constructing a capitol building. The ability to dedicate resources to something as trivial as a statue spoke volumes as to how put together an organization was, and that people would rally behind it said even more.

Symbols were important.

But Elias knew the throne had been a terrible idea.

It rose fifteen feet in the air and filled a third of the chamber. The blades of a thousand shovels, the points of a thousand pickaxes and the pointy ends of several post-hole diggers had been twisted by fire and force to seat the king. Rended steel and twisted iron had been collected and reformed for no other purpose than to keep his majesty off the ground. It was massive. It was ominous. And, it hurt.

Most of the pain was focused on the right side of his rear end. King Elias shifted to the left cheek knowing full well he hadn’t given it time to recover from an earlier readjustment. He grunted as his weight set upon it. He had always heard heavy is the head that wears the crown, but Shakespeare never warned that pointy is the seat upon which his ass is placed.

The king leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. This posture of power was not meant to threaten those before him. He could not lean back. In creating the symbolic throne, the artist had failed to consider little besides its aesthetics. He never bothered to measure the height of the room and offered a flippant, “It’ll fit,” whenever the question arose. It did fit, but leaning back would force the king to strike his head on the ceiling. And, since it was all but impossible to look regal with your head cocked to one side or shoved into an acoustic ceiling tile, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

Elias shifted again, shuffling his large frame six inches to the right to avoid the pointy end of an iron pick. Had that bastard of an artist not even sat in this thing? How could a king conduct the kingdom’s business with a shovel handle up his ass?

It was his own fault for employing an artist instead of a recliner designer. Surely an engineer from La-Z-Boy had survived the apocalypse. That’s who he should have hired. That person would at least have some appreciation for the shape of the human ass.

It was too late now. The throne quickly became a symbol of his kingdom, his power and his rule. Rumors stretched beyond the borders of his kingdom into the realms of his enemies and inspired fear. People knew only a hard man could sit on such a hard throne. It commanded respect by his allies. It drove fear into his enemies. Maybe he could get a seat cushion.

Elias shifted once more, found the point of a jackhammer bit and decided that he was done ruling for the day. This wedding was over. He cursed the throne maker, blessed the bride and dismissed the royal court.

The crowd cheered and someone kissed someone else but Elias didn’t see it. Careful not to snag his robe, he moved quickly with practiced steps down the twisted rail ties that formed the throne’s staircase. He reached the ground with a sigh of relief and moved across the room, resisting the urge to rub his butt.

A small man in a cloak far too large rushed through the wedding party and came to the king’s side. He moved with his elbows out to hold up the extra fabric and prevent tripping. The king’s Hand matched the monarch’s pace,. “A beautiful ceremony, Your Majesty.”

Elias nodded to his Hand and asked, “What did the man from the Watch say?”

“He says he didn’t see anything, sire.”

The pair reached the wall and stood before a tapestry depicting the king’s rise to power. Elias looked majestic with the sun behind him, a sword in his hand and an enemy beneath his boot. The Hand grabbed a corner of the tapestry and pulled it aside to reveal a doorway. He let the king pass through and followed behind.

The tapestry closed behind them and the king sighed before rubbing his upper butt. “That damn throne.”

“Yes, sire.”

Elias leaned his shoulders back and bowed his spine, half hoping to hear something pop back into place and half hoping nothing popped at all. This was middle age. Nothing popped and he took a clipboard from the Hand. It was a list of his concerns. The workers in the mine were planning a revolt, winter was settling in and now his daughter-in-law had been abducted. He twisted again. How could he concentrate on being a king with a sore back? He handed the board back to the Hand. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

The small man reached into the cavernous cloak and retrieved a pencil. He scratched down the king’s words exactly as they were spoken.

“I need you to find the guy that built the throne. What was his name? Randall? Randy? Find him and have him build a torture device.”

“A torture device, sire?”

“Yes. I want it big. I want it brutal. I want it to fill the town square. I want spikes, pikes and some kind of screw thing that makes things worse so I can walk by and give it a spin if I feel like it. I want cables and ropes. I want it to stretch things, pull things, push things, cram things together until you don’t know what those things were to begin with. Did you get all that?”

“Yes, sire.” The pencil moved furiously.

Elias tapped the page. “Make sure you got the part about the spikes.”

“I’ll underline it, sire.”

“Good, have him build it. And then put him in it.”

“The guard from the Watch?”

“The artist from the throne. It was Randy, right? It was Randy or something like that?”

“R8nsom, sire.”

“Ransom?”

“Yes, sir. But he spelled it with an eight.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir. He insisted everyone pronounce the eight.”

“Reighntsome?”

“I think so, sire.”

The king tapped the notepad again. “Add some rats. Put some rats in there, too.”

The Hand made the note.

“Hungry rats.” The pencil scratched notes on the pad as Elias looked on. “Put them around the crotch area.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Good.” The king twisted his back and heard a pop. It was the good kind. “Should I sign that?”

“No need, sire. I’ve got it.”

Elias took the notepad and pencil from the man. “It feels more official if I sign it.” He scratched his name across the bottom of the page and finished with a wide swipe that left the page and concluded in the air. “There. Now it’s a decree.” Elias smiled and walked off.

The Hand hurried after him. “But, sire, what about the man from the Watch?”

Elias stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t have time to wait for the new torture machine.” The king stroked his red beard for a moment. “Maybe we just keep punching him until he talks?”

“You want him treated as a suspect?”

“Everyone is a suspect: the guards, the prince, the knights, the peasants, you, me. Wait. Not me. I got carried away.”

“Of course, sire.”

The king tapped the page. “Write that down.”

“Write what down, sire?”

“That I’m not a suspect.”

“But, sire. We would never …” A stern glance from the king silenced the man and he scratched the note down on the pad.

“Let me sign it.” Elias took the notepad and signed the page with a flourish that forced the Hand to duck. “There. Decreed.” He handed the pad back. “Everyone not on that list is a suspect.”

“This list?” He pointed to the pad. “This list of just your name?”

“Precisely.” He put his arm around the Hand. “The princess has been stolen from us. Captured from within our very walls. My sovereignty has been challenged. And her dad is going to be so pissed at me. Not to mention, where are we going to get another princess?” The king opened a door leading to the street behind the former town hall. He stepped into the winter air and took a deep breath. The large man exhaled and watched his breath dance. “There aren’t enough kingdoms. Everyone is either still trying to give democracy a chance or accepted the anarchy of the wasteland.”

“There’s rumors of a kingdom in the west that …”

“A real kingdom?” the king asked. “Or is it some lunatic that set a pot on his head and called himself king? There’s no shortage of that. Crazy is everywhere. I’m talking a real kingdom like mine. Wealth. Commerce. Power. Security. For the most part, loyal subjects. There’s nothing like that besides Rodney’s kingdom and you know it. We have to find his daughter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see the prince. You should probably go start punching that guy now.”

“Yes, sire.” The Hand bowed, turned and went back inside the building.

The tower bells rang to celebrate the newlyweds as they left the courthouse. Elias smiled and walked quickly down the side of the building. He watched from the alley as the happy couple burst from the front doors into a throng of people cheering them on.

Weddings were a big deal in the kingdom. Elias insisted on it. Who else left in the world had the authority to marry people? No one. Only a king. Or maybe a ship’s captain. Regardless, it was one of the duties he enjoyed performing most. It made people happy. It made him happy.

The kingdom roared as the couple dashed through the crowd. The bride and groom ducked and weaved as they passed through a tunnel of loved ones. Rice and birdseed were scarce in the post-apocalyptic world so the crowd threw nothing. A royal decree mandated that soap be used for cleaning only so no bubbles were blown. But, if the bombs proved anything it was that traditions were harder to kill than ninety-nine percent of the population. If people were getting married, you had to try and hit them with something. It was only right. Rocks were out, so people spit. It was a nice spit. A loving spit. More of a misting than anything from deep within the sinuses, though there was undoubtedly a scorned lover or two that probably took his time and aimed for the groom as the couple raced by.

Regardless of the color or consistency, everyone decided to call the spit good luck. It was a blessing for the new couple. May their marriage be showered with blessings, they said. The happy couple always smiled as they ran through the shower and laughed, all the while secretly wishing someone would just grow some damn birdseed.

Elias smiled and turned down Elias Street and began to walk. His palace was a block away down the street. On most days he enjoyed the stroll. On most days his subjects filled the streets and smiled as he greeted them. On most days ruling was nothing more than smiling back. But today he walked slower and looked for people to talk to. He desperately wanted a page or some court official to come bounding from one of the buildings on Elias Street calling after him with official business. Something to sign. Something to decide. Anything. Was it too much to ask for a sudden blizzard?

Dragging his feet bought him only a few minutes and he sighed as he stepped up the sidewalk to the palace. A pair of guards opened the doors of the former hotel and Elias looked up to the second floor. The prince’s chamber was up there and he could only picture the wreck of a man that dwelled within them.

“Is the prince in his chambers?” Elias asked.

“Yes, sire,” the knight said. “He has not come out all day.”

“Poor thing.” Elias remembered when he lost his own wife. It had been heartbreaking. He mourned for weeks. He still wasn’t over her loss. But this was different. His wife had been attacked by a mountain lion; the princess had been taken. She could still be saved. There was hope. But her sudden disappearance would still be a shock. “He must feel so lonely.”

“Miss Richards is with him, sir.”

“What a sweetheart. She must be helping him grieve.”

“I’d say so, sire. It sounds like they’ve grieved a couple of times today.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, sire.”

Elias looked across the lobby to the staircase and sighed again before crossing and climbing the long flight. Consoling was his least favorite part of being a ruler.

The guard outside the prince’s door looked like he’d rather be somewhere else even if that place wasn’t that far away. The king greeted him and the man snapped to attention while casting a wary eye on the prince’s door.

“I’m here to see the prince,” Elias said.

“Of course, sire.” The guard made no move to the door.

“Well.” The king gestured to the door. “Announce me.”

“Umm, of course, sire.” The guard turned and drew back his hand and hesitated. He turned back to the king. “What if he’s not … decent?”

Elias laughed. “The prince is never decent.” Elias waved the man aside and knocked on the door.

The voice from the other side of the door shot back. “I told you to go away, Eddie!”

“It’s not Eddie. It’s the king. And don’t you talk to Eddie that way. It’s his job to stand outside this door and keep you safe.”

There was shuffling inside the room. Elias definitely heard scrambling. Someone said, “Hand me my bra.” Elias hoped it wasn’t the prince. The door opened a crack a moment later and the prince’s face appeared. The boy was handsome like a prince should be. “I’m quite safe, Your Majesty.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the prince said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s my boy. Hiding beneath bravado. I just wanted to see how you were holding up and let you know that we’re doing everything to get your wife back.”

“Oh. Right. Why?”

Elias threw Eddie the guard an uncomfortable smile and forced his way into the room. A half-dressed woman disappeared into the bathroom. Prince Robert jumped back and scrambled to find a shirt. “You can’t just come in here!”

Elias closed the door behind him. “Shut up.” He pointed to the bathroom. “And get her out of here.”

Robert shrugged and rapped on the bathroom door. “Kay? You should go now, Kay.”

There was a whispered response that Elias couldn’t hear.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” the prince said. “I don’t even have boobs.”

The whispering continued and was still unintelligible but grew more intense and shrieking. It was like a banshee sharing a secret.

“I’ll look for it, okay? Just get out of here and don’t run down the stairs too fast. They’ll be fine.”

The bathroom door opened and Miss Richards shuffled out with a quick curtsy to the king. “Hello, sire.”

Elias smiled. “Kay, it’s nice to see you. On your way out would you please tell Eddie that it’s time for his break?”

The girl nodded, stepped quickly out the door and closed it behind her.

Elias turned back to the prince. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He smiled. “Nothing.”

“Your princess is missing and you’re up here in your room playing hide the scepter with Miss Richards.”

“She’s a really good player.”

Elias sighed and sat on the bed.

Robert pulled his shirt on and threw up his arms. “You told me you were looking for her. What more do you want from me?”

“What more do I want? I want you to grieve, express concern. I need you to be the worried husband. The concerned prince.”

Robert shrugged.

“Do you have any idea what happens if we don’t get her back?”

“I get a new wife?”

Elias placed his face in his hands.

“Can I pick her this time? Because I’d like one with more boobs and less attitude.”

Elias sprang from the bed and slapped Robert across the face. “You spoiled little brat.”

Robert rolled with the strike and spun to face the king. “I don’t think either of those things is too much to ask. Anna wasn’t my type and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter what type she is. She’s a princess. You’re a prince. That’s all that matters.”

“This is your stupid fantasy, Greg. Not mine.”

Elias roared. “You don’t want to be the prince?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“You don’t want to have everyone at your beck and call? You don’t want to live the most privileged life this side of the apocalypse?” Elias stepped across the room and tore the drapes from the wall. “Do you want to be out there? In the wasteland? Scraping by, scavenging for every meal, wearing rags and fighting to keep the crap you have?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not. You want the mines. You want the gold. The subjects. The power. And you can’t do that without a princess. If her father finds out that she’s been taken, it will be war. A war I’m not sure we can win right now.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, our prince is a pussy and it’s his job to lead the troops.”

“I’m not a pussy.”

“Yes. You are. But that’s my fault. I’ve kept you sheltered your entire life. You don’t know what it’s like to struggle. Since the time you were a kid you’ve lived behind these gates. You don’t know how cruel it can all be.”

“Fine. I’ll act all sad now and happy when she gets back.”

Elias shook his head. “No. That’s not enough. You’re going after her.”

“What? Send the knights!”

“I can’t send knights, you moron. If we march with an army, it will be war!”

“Then what do you want me to do, Greg?”

Elias stood and grabbed Robert by the collar of his freshly buttoned shirt. He punched the prince in the stomach. He punched hard. He felt something shift under his fist. It could have been a spleen. It dawned on him at that moment that he had no idea where a person’s spleen was.

Robert doubled over coughing.

“It’s Elias. Or Your Majesty. Or sire. You owe me everything, you little shit.” Elias helped him up and sat him on the bed. “But I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going on a secret mission. You’re going to find your wife and bring her back, or else.”

FIVE

The Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge railroad had been constructed more than a hundred years before the world fell apart. For the majority of its existence, it hauled supplies to the mining towns that had formed in the mountains and returned with gold and silver from the mines.

As the world progressed and the mines closed, it evolved into a tourist destination. Starting in the ’80s, it transported visitors instead of supplies to Silverton as it began to rely more on their dollars than the income from the mining companies. The mines closed in the ’90s, but the train carried on and ran curious passengers back and forth between the two towns until the bombs redefined how people thought of vacations.

Once again, the railroad served its original purpose. Under a cloud of steam, the engines brought gold and silver coins from the mines into the marketplace where they were exchanged for food and other goods that were returned to the castle.

Keeping a steam train operational wasn’t easy in the best of times. That most antique railroad enthusiasts had been apocalypsed with everyone else didn’t make things any easier. But the Kingdom of the Five Peaks dedicated several crews to maintaining the line no matter how difficult it was.

Some diesel-electric engines still ran. The Dakota War Train was one—a menacing engine of destruction a mile long that carried a thousand men and twice as many guns. The machine was the brainchild of a twisted warlord that ruled over an extremely long, but extremely narrow, tract of territory in the Midwest.

The engine brought death and destruction. It spit fire and hell and forced those in its path to submit to the warlord’s rule. This continued until those in its path realized they could move about a mile away from the track, rendering the great machine useless. For, despite all its weapons, the Dakota War Engine had fairly limited mobility. Still, as useless as it had become, the engine still ran.

Many of those that still functioned had been converted to power plants. More than a few towns had formed around a derailed locomotive and attracted people from all over the wasteland. They came with devices in hand dying to plug in. Few were naïve enough to think they could still make calls, download updates or Google anything. For most, these engines were the only opportunity they had to see pictures of their loved ones once again.

Some of the communities became medical centers and devoted their trains to running dialysis machines and other hospital equipment. Others tried to become entertainment centers by screening movies and music. But, wherever there was power, trouble found it. If a town had an engine now it almost certainly lay behind thick walls and men who stood ready to defend it.

In almost every case, the engines fared better than the railways themselves.

Stripped by scavengers for lumber and steel, the tracks had been torn from the earth. Crossties were stacked for homes and town walls. Idiots tried to burn them to heat their homes, but only once. As difficult as it was to keep an engine running, maintaining a line was almost impossible.

But the Durango-Silverton was different.

Jerry and Erica were bound at the wrist. Chewy was muzzled, leashed and not happy about it. The trio stood guarded on the platform of the historic Durango station as the engine approached.

They saw it coming before they heard it. A cloud of smoke appeared over the city’s low-built structures. Black soot mixed with white-hot steam to form a grey tail trailing into the hills beyond town.

The sound of the engine blended in with the din of the crowd at first. Slowly the chug overpowered the racket of commerce and the rhythmic stroke of the pistons clanked above all else.

It approached them like a creature born of a nightmare. The sounds and site of the ethereal cloud was tied to nothing until it rounded the corner of College Street. A mass of black steel hid in the billow of smoke and churned closer until it was upon them. The engine was entirely black. It was impossible to distinguish what was paint and what was soot. The only other color on the train was the scratched remains of white engine numbers.

A burst of white smoke shot from the side of the train as it slowed its approach to the station. This burst scattered a crowd that had gathered along the rails to watch the arrival. More than a hundred years and one apocalypse later, the site and sounds of a steam engine still amazed the masses.

Jerry smiled like a toddler as it rolled past them at the station. He turned to one of his guards and took a deep breath. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” the guard asked.

“We get to ride a train,” Jerry said.

“We’re taking you to jail, you dumbass.”

“Yeah. But you’re taking me to jail on a train!”

Erica turned away. “Ugh. I’ll never understand boys.”

Jerry turned to her. “Oh come on. This is cool.”

The engine came to a stop somewhere beyond the station, and the guards pushed them towards an open-air passenger car. They seated the couple back-to-back on a bench that ran the length of the car and secured their bindings through a metal ring at their feet. Chewy was placed in a freight car next to them and was still not happy about it.

Several knights spread out across the benches. There was ample space in the car for twenty people, but the knights found maneuvering difficult. Several men repositioning in such close quarters with four feet of sword sticking out behind them produced more “excuses me’s,” “my bad’s,” and “oh, I’m sorry, was that your face’s” than Jerry had heard in years. Even in the apocalypse, chivalry was not dead. But it had grown stupid.

“How fast does it go?” Jerry asked the knight closest to him.

There was no response.

“Do we get to go over any big bridges?” he asked another.

Again there was no answer.

“What are we going to see?”

Nothing.

“You guys are no fun,” Jerry said. “You’re spoiled. That’s what it is. Not many people get to ride a train anymore. You should be thankful.”

The guards made it obvious that they did not share his enthusiasm. “You won’t be making jokes when you start to freeze. Now shut up.”

“I might. I’ll try and think of some freezing jokes for you guys.”

The whistle blew and the pistons began their slow and steady churn. Jerry leaned back and opened his mouth to speak to Erica.

“I don’t want to hear about the train either.”

Jerry remained silent for a moment before changing the conversation. “So that Mr. Christopher is kind of a dick, huh?”

# # #

Jerry’s questions about the train were answered quickly.

How fast did it go? Slower than the speed of interesting.

Would they cross any bridges? Yes, several very low and dull bridges.

What would they see? Trees. Tree after tree after tree and a river.

The train moved along at a slow and steady pace, making only one stop to attach a plow car and fill the boiler. All in all the ride was so beautifully boring that the guards eventually broke their silence and began to talk to the prisoners.

“So what was that fight all about, anyway?”

Erica answered with a question of her own. “Didn’t he tell you when he paid you to look the other way?”

The knight crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, miss. Taking a bribe is against the king’s Law.”

Erica snorted. “Just like that?”

“Bringing false accusations against one of the king’s men is also against the king’s Law. You’d better be careful what you say. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

Erica sighed. “We’re not really sure what it’s all about. He’s been following us for months. He’s a bounty hunter and he’s convinced himself that we’re wanted.”

“Now why would he think that?” the knight asked.

Jerry shrugged. “Did you see how he was dressed?”

The knight nodded.

“He’s clearly an idiot,” Jerry said.

The guard chuckled and nodded again.

Another knight spoke up. “He didn’t look like much of a bounty hunter to me.”

Erica smirked. “You run into a lot of bounty hunters, do you?”

“Nah, but you hear about them. The good ones, anyway. People pass through and tell stories. Like, ‘Deadeye’ Dick Devlin.” The knight made a gun with his finger. “He’s the best shot in the wasteland.”

“Second best,” Erica said. “Apparently.”

“What’s that?” the knight asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Jerry said and shot Erica a look she couldn’t see. “Rumor has it he was shot dead outside of Abilene.”

“Really? That’s a shame. He was the best.”

“Second best,” said Erica.

Another guard jumped into the conversation. “You know who I always liked? Kamikaze Cooper. I met him once, you know? Hell of a guy. Wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Erica shifted in her seat. “I’ll bet he’s scared of heights now.”

“He is not. Why would you say that?”

“He fell into a canyon last month,” Jerry said. “A damn shame, really.”

“Oh, man. Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Erica shrugged. “Bounty hunting is a dangerous business.”

Tommy had been silent during the conversation but spoke up now. “That’s what makes it so cool—the danger. I love hearing stories about those guys. I follow all of them.” Tommy held up his hand and started counting off fingers. “There’s ‘Crossbow’ Johnson.”

Erica answered each finger in turn. “Garroted with a bowstring.”

“Brad ‘The Blade’ Patterson.”

“Stabbed.”

“‘Dashing Dan’ Johnson.”

“Car crash.”

“Clay ‘Claymore’ Moore.”

“Uh … kaboom.”

“Three-Finger Dakota?”

Erica held up two fingers.

“Wow,” Tommy said as he sat back down. “It’s been a rough time for bounty hunters.”

Jerry tried to make the most of their willingness to talk. “Since you guys are fans, what do you know about this Mr. Christopher guy?”

“Never heard of him,” Tommy said.

Jerry squinted. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or this is part of the whole ‘he didn’t bribe me’ thing.”

“No. I really never heard of him.”

Sir David had remained silent until now. “Shut up, Tommy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Dave.” Tommy turned back to the prisoners. “What’s this guy’s gimmick?”

Erica answered, “I don’t think he has one.”

“What?” Tommy turned to the knight next to him. “What kind of bounty hunter doesn’t have a gimmick?”

Jerry shrugged. Of all the bounty hunters that had come after the price on their heads, Mr. Christopher had come closest to collecting. In every case, the man hid behind others and played more of a managerial role, recruiting others in the hunt. That’s how Three-Finger Dakota lost his ability to count past two.

It had been one bounty hunter after another. The first few had shown up in New Hope, Texas, where Erica and Jerry had tried to make their home. The amateurs that came first caused little worry, but when the professionals started showing up it was clear that the couple was endangering the people of the town.

So they had left. They had packed up and headed west. Erica thought she might have friends left on the coast. It was a long shot, but when there was nowhere else to run, west was as good as any place. East was out. That’s where the blood money was coming from.

Heading west should have been a relatively easy trip. The world was still full of stupid people, but not so stupid they would live in the desert and bitch about being thirsty for the rest of their lives. Mr. Christopher had dogged them every step of the way and slowed their progress. He couldn’t blame the man in white for the broken fuel pump that put them in Durango, but he might as well have.

The train blew three long blasts from the whistle and the knights snapped into action. Each stood quickly and apologized to whomever they hit with their scabbards. They moved to the car’s edge and put their eyes on the track ahead. Whispers were traded. “High line” was the only phrase Jerry could pick out of the hushed conversations.

“What’s high line?” Jerry asked.

One guard kept his gaze on the prisoners. He answered their question quietly. “The High Line is the highest point of the run. It runs along the edge of a cliff. Very dangerous.”

“Cool,” Jerry said.

The knights drew their swords as best they could in the confines of the car.

“Are they going to stab the cliff?” Erica asked.

The guard shook his head and gestured for silence as the train entered the perilous stretch of track. A red cliff rose up on both sides. Had his hands been free, Jerry could easily reach out and touch the stone walls as the train barreled on.

The wall on the right fell away and they were rolling above the trees of the San Juan forest. Jerry stood as far as the bindings would allow and looked over the edge. He could see the Animas River flowing far beneath them. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

The guard shushed him and put his hand on the grip of his sword.

The rocks appeared again and they were back in a canyon of pink stone. Jerry looked back at the guard. “Nice place for an ambush.”

The canyon wall disappeared once more as the train made its way along the shelf. The treetops were far beneath them. The evergreens covered the canyon floor in a blanket of green and white.

There was yelling from the front of the train. Not panicked but practiced. Jerry couldn’t make out the words but imagined they were to the effect of “all clear.” But it wasn’t until they had cleared the pass that the knights relaxed and turned back around.

Jerry caught Tommy’s gaze and said, “I imagine a train full of food is a mighty tempting target for hungry people.”

Tommy spit on the ground at Jerry’s feet and turned his back.

The knights spent the next five minutes putting their swords away.

The conversation never returned. The four-hour ride was made in silence and, to their word, it only got colder.

SIX

The walls of the castle rose roughly thirty feet into the air. More precisely, they rose the height of the three shipping containers the kingdom had stacked in line to surround their castle. The wall’s size and steel construction would be enough to make any potential invader think twice, but it was the mural that had caused Erica to speak.

Admittedly, a wall of rusting, faded shipping containers could be a blight on any community, so she didn’t fault them for painting their exterior. It was that they painted the castle walls with trolls and ogres that gave her pause. And the big-breasted Valkyries that rode on the backs of winged white tigers to vanquish the creatures made her laugh.

“It’s not that bad,” Jerry said.

“It belongs on a van,” she said.

“Maybe they didn’t have a van.”

“It’s offensive to women.”

“How do you figure that?” Jerry asked. “The women with the metal bras and big boobs are obviously the heroes here. See? That lovely lady with the fire coated nipple shield has defeated the dragon and tied him up with her whip.”

“And placed a ball gag in his mouth.”

Jerry looked back at the dragon bondage scene. “Oh, I didn’t see that. But, if you think about it, it makes total sense. She wouldn’t want the dragon breathing fire. She’s wearing practically no fire protection.”

“She’s wearing practically nothing,” Erica said.

“She’s got a very nice helmet on.”

“And the cat-o’-nine-tails?”

“I’d have to check my history, but I’m pretty sure that’s one of the best ways to keep a dragon in line.”

The couple chuckled as a particularly large metal cupped bustier split in two to allow the train access to the city. The train rolled though the breasted gate.

“I think we just got to second base with the Silver Kingdom,” Jerry said.

Erica laughed out loud and drew the guard’s attention.

“Laugh all you want. They’ll be closing those as soon as we’re through. Nothing gets in or out but the train. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Jerry looked offended. “Now that the kingdom has taken us unto its bosom, why would we want to leave?”

“Ha. Ha,” the guard didn’t laugh. “Get a good look at the sky. You probably won’t be seeing much of it where you’re going.”

Jerry looked up not to the sky but the tops of the walls. Knights patrolled the edge. The same industrial-sized crossbows they saw at the gates were mounted on the wall here as well, but there were many more of them and they were even closer together.

The train rolled past the station at the edge of town and continued deep into Silverton on extended tracks that once took the tourists closer to the souvenir district. It didn’t stop until it reached the center of town.

Jerry and Erica were untied from the bench and led from the train as Tommy continued to goad them with threats of imprisonment. “Ewe’ll be goin’ to the mine fo’ certain, tough guy. But, don’t worry, Eye’m shor yer girl will get to stay up ’ere on the surface with us.” He shoved them into the street.

The citizens of the town weren’t interested in the train. The streets weren’t crowded, but they were full. Erica would even describe it as bustling. Men and women moved about at a leisurely pace. Many smiled and spoke with others as they crossed paths. If they hadn’t been dressed in period costumes, it would have seemed like a normal day in a normal town. The clothes looked beautiful and in good condition but were odd nonetheless.

Erica leaned over to Jerry and whispered. “Look at how they’re dressed. It’s so odd.”

“I know,” he said. “I was expecting more metal braziers.”

“Rebecca would have loved this,” Erica said with no small amount of sadness.

Jerry wanted to put his arm around her. He wanted to hold her tight. Losing her sister had been worse for Erica than losing the entire world. He leaned in close to her since the bindings prevented an embrace.

A young boy yelled as he ran along the length of the train. “Sir Thomas?”

“Ere boy!” the knight yelled back.

The young teen panted as he spoke. “Sir Thomas, the king has ordered that the prisoner be brought before him at once.”

Tommy smiled at Jerry. “Well. Looks like justice is moving extra fast today. Ewe’ll be in the myne in no time at all.” He signaled two of the guards. “Bring the prisoners.”

“No,” the boy spoke again. “Just the dude. That’s what the king said.”

“Isn’t that interesting?” The knight cocked his head and shoved Jerry forward. “Take this one to the king. Leave the girl with me.” Tommy leaned in and whispered, “What do you think of that?”

Jerry whispered back. “I already warned you. You’ll lose every hand that touches her.”

“Yeah, but your big bad Hannibal isn’t around now.”

Jerry smiled and shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s not me or the dog you need to be afraid of.” A knifepoint in his stomach caused Jerry to step back.

Tommy waved good-bye with the dagger and the guards led Jerry away.

They escorted him down Twelfth Street and Jerry tried to take everything in and file it away. The buildings, the guards, the people—he tried to remember all of it, but there was simply too much purple. His eye was drawn to the ram’s skull crest on the field of purple and gold. The icon hung from every post and structure. It was stitched onto every armed man in the town. “I’m guessing the king’s mother was a seamstress?”

One of the knights grunted, “His sister.”

“Oh,” Jerry said. “Why the ram skull?”

The other knight shrugged. “Because it looks badass.”

Jerry nodded. “I can’t argue with that.”

There were many arguments to be made with that. But Jerry was too relieved to bother making them. He half expected a ram’s skull to be the king. Like the Lord of the Flies, perhaps the people of the kingdom had been driven mad by the isolation. Or maybe it was the altitude. He had seen stranger things. One town in the Midwest followed the laws set down by a prized chicken. Another place farther south had elected a dog as mayor. One back east prayed and followed the laws of an old Volkswagen. They were delivered for the Volkswagen by a man named Hank. Or Hank was their leader and lived in the Volkswagen. He wasn’t certain.

These could have all been attempts to dodge responsibility. If the crops failed or people died, it was much easier to pin the misfortune on a goat or German engineering than it was for a person to shoulder the blame. But it didn’t matter why these totems were adopted; the people that served beneath were always absolutely crazy.

The guards turned him down Elias Street and the purple got worse. It hung from buildings as far as he could see and fought with the white of the snow to be the town’s dominant color.

To say an apocalypse had occurred, the town’s buildings were well maintained and in relatively good shape. They appeared freshly painted and even the store windows were maintained with artistic displays. Each was draped in purple and gold, of course.

Despite the color scheme, the citizens of the town appeared happy, healthy and better groomed than most of the places he had visited. No one rushed. They strolled in pairs or small groups, smiling, laughing and only looking over their shoulders when a friend called out. Children played and their mothers watched them with carefree smiles.

“It seems … nice,” Jerry said, trying to spark conversation with the guards.

“Yeah, it’s a friggin’ fairy tale. Keep moving.”

Any attempt at conversation from that point on was answered with the broad side of a sword slapped across his calves, so Jerry decided to finish the walk in silence.

The knights directed him to the town hall. A pair of guards at the entrance stood at their approach.

The guard on his right jerked a thumb in Jerry’s direction. “He’s waiting for this one.”

The doormen nodded and pulled the double doors open. “He said to go on in.”

The other guard at the door examined Jerry. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The escort pushed him through the door. “Who cares? If the king is in such a hurry to see him, it means the king is in a hurry not to see him.”

It was warm inside. The train ride had been so frigid he had forgotten he was cold. He enjoyed the warmth so much that he hesitated when he was called down the hallway. One of the guards threw a shoulder into him and drove him down the hallway and into the great hall.

Jerry laughed when he saw the throne and he received a slap across the back of his head for his sense of humor.

“Enough.” The voice came from atop the mass of twisted metal. The king sat in obvious discomfort but his voice still filled the great hall. “Remove his shackles and leave us.”

The guards hesitated to comply.

“But, sire, he’s dangerous,” one said.

“He and his woman beat six men in the market,” the other added.

“Nine,” Jerry said, and felt the sword point in his back. “Well, it was.”

The king waved a tired hand. “I know what this man is capable of and I appreciate your concern, but I wish him uncuffed and I wish to speak to him alone.”

The guards dropped their argument and removed the bindings. They backed away, but did not leave the room.

Jerry couldn’t tell where the man had been standing, but a small figure in a robe that was much too large emerged from the shadows and whispered to the guards, “Your king told you to leave. Why are you still here?”

The guards jumped at the sound of the man’s voice and did not question the king again. They left the courtroom and pulled the doors shut behind them.

Jerry looked at the man on the throne. He sat reclined, his arms outstretched. He wore a harsh gaze and a purple robe with sleeves that draped the top of the throne. He said nothing. The two men measured each other with stares for several seconds.

Jerry broke the silence. “That looks uncomfortable.”

The king sat forward, tilting his head to clear the ceiling along the way. He leaned forward with his hands on the throne’s arms as if he were about to leap. “You have no idea.” Elias slithered out of his seat and made his way down the stairs. “I asked for something grand and symbolic.” He reached the foot of the throne and turned to look at it. “I think they did what I asked out of spite.”

“Could be worse, I guess. I know a lot of people that don’t have any thrones.”

The man in the cloak scolded him. “You should not speak to the king that way.”

“Take it easy, Gargamel. The king and I are talking.”

Gargamel looked to the king.

“It’s all right, Jeffery. Please leave us.”

“But, sire …”

The king waved his hand and the man in the robe bowed before disappearing out the double doors. The king placed his face in his hands and rubbed away a headache.

“Heavy is the head, huh?”

The king pointed to the throne. “Red is the ass. I doubt you got to see much of our kingdom on the way in.”

“I saw enough to jump to a few conclusions. And, despite the tapestry of you getting your smite on, you don’t seem crazy.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” Elias leaned back and rubbed his lower back. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“I’ve met my share of kings. Most are nut jobs ruling over a kingdom of melons, or peasantry of sheep. This one guy ruled over a kingdom full of dolls he found in burned out buildings. He had them all lined up in front of him in his throne room.”

Elias cringed.

“Yep,” Jerry said. “It was creepy.”

“My people are happy here. They’re safe and they’re fed.” Elias held out his arms to let the robe flow. “If this pageantry gives them that comfort, then I’m happy to play my role.”

“Probably doesn’t hurt having all the servants at your beck and call.”

Elias chuckled. “I’m not going to lie. It’s good to be the king.”

“But you’ve got a problem?”

The king nodded. “I do.”

“Something or someone is threatening to undo all of this and take it all away from you. To bring your kingdom crumbling down around you. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you. I’d be in the mines with the rest of the dissidents.”

Elias nodded again. “You would.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like the act of a benevolent ruler.”

The king turned up his palms. “What choice do I have? This town didn’t have a dungeon.”

“I’ll give you props for creative problem solving. You get your dungeon and your silver and gold.”

“You’d be surprised how much they left down there when they closed this place. If you dig deep enough.”

“Sounds delightful.”

Elias waved his hands. “There’s no need for you to find out. I want to give you a job.”

“Why me?”

The king smiled. “Well, it was nine men.”

“Could have been ten. You’ve got an army of knights. Why do you need me?”

“My men are loyal, brave and capable. But there are things even they can’t do. My kingdom unexpectedly has business in a neighboring realm. It’s a kingdom we are peaceful with. But it is an uneasy peace. If my men were found there it would be a violation of the truce. I can’t risk a war. But, you’re not one of my knights. You could go. You’re not even a citizen here.”

“I think the technical term is prisoner.”

“You came here looking for an auto part, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“But you have no gold.”

“Nothing with your face on it.”

“Macroeconomics were never my thing, but my advisors tell me it’s time to rein in the currency that’s in circulation. We don’t want inflation getting out of hand.”

“Well, see, that’s what I figured.”

“If you do this for me, I will give you enough gold to buy any car you want.”

“A king’s ransom?”

Elias smiled again. “Not quite.”

“I don’t know, Your Highness. You seem like a pretty fair guy and my wife and I were just defending ourselves against some common thugs. I might want to throw myself on your mercy.”

Elias bit his lip. “No, I don’t think you’d want to do that.” The king turned and climbed painfully back to his throne. “The world is not as big as it was yesterday, you know.” Elias turned and sat back on the uncomfortable throne. “It had grown for a while. Nobody talked. But things are getting better. Communication is picking back up and we rulers of men are in better contact than you might think. We may not like each other, but we talk.”

Jerry’s stomach sank. The king didn’t have a suspicion. He knew exactly who he was.

“I know who you are, Librarian. And I know what you’re worth. Even I consider it a lot. And I’ve got my own face on my money.”

“You seem to be as confused as the men in the market. I’m not …”

“You should just be thankful that your skills, if your reputation is to be believed, are worth more to me than some bounty from back east. Or the political capital I could score with Alasis. Do this and you and Erica and,” the king chuckled, “Chewy go free. With my blessing and my gold.”

Options played through his head. Most of them ended with his head in a bag bound for the east or with him stuck in a mine surrounded by a town full of lunatics. And what would happen to Erica?

“I can see you’re conflicted. So, to show you how generous I am, I’ll offer you something more than gold. Something you can’t get anywhere else.”

“One of those bitchin’ robes?”

The king ignored the remark. “I’m sending a group of men that are unaffiliated with my rule into the country. You go with them and ensure their success and I will welcome you as a citizen of my kingdom under any name you choose. The running can end, Jerry. You can be Michael and Jennifer or whatever you want. You’ll have the word of my kingdom to anyone who asks.”

The chance to start over was tempting and didn’t end up with his head and body being too far apart.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m no assassin.”

“Of course not. You’re one of the good guys. And that’s what I need right now. I need a white knight to ride to the rescue.”

“You need me to slay a dragon? Where’s his cave?”

“No,” Elias leaned forward awkwardly. “I need you to rescue a princess. And I know exactly where she is.”

SEVEN

Erica stood on the street waiting for Jerry to emerge from the town hall. Her arms were folded against the cold and Chewy lay on the ground next to her with her paws crossed. She took in a relieved breath as Jerry emerged from the building unrestrained and unescorted. Chewy stumbled to her feet and ran to meet him. He crossed over to her and kissed her on the head.

“Well?” Erica asked. “They let us go and told us to wait here. So what did you agree to do this time?”

Jerry mumbled, “Rescue a princess.”

Erica spoke mumble. “Are you serious?”

Jerry nodded and pointed down the street. They started to walk towards the center of town.

“A princess?” Erica asked. “What kind of twisted fairy tale did we step into?”

“It seems a little less silly if you think of it as a good old-fashioned kidnapping.”

“Except it’s a princess,” Erica said.

“The girl was taken last night. They’re not even sure how it happened.”

“I’m going to say it again. You have to go rescue a princess.”

“You’re right. It still sounds silly. But, it will get us what we need.”

“One princess for a fuel pump? Sounds like a normal everyday trade. Then we get to leave?”

“Then we get to stay,” Jerry said.

Erica stopped. “Why the hell would we want to stay?”

“If I rescue the prin … missing girl, we will be granted citizenship.”

“But I forgot my ten-sided dice back in—” Erica pointed over her shoulder, “high school.”

Jerry took her hands in his. They were warm and comforting. He looked deep into her eyes. She hated when he did that for effect. He spoke softly which meant he wanted her to listen. “We can finally be Mike and Jennifer Parker. We can stop running.”

“And you get to rescue a princess.”

Jerry smiled and dropped her hands. “Stop that.”

“But that’s it, right? We do this and that’s it. No revolution? No great rebellion? You’re not going to raise an army and march against injustice?”

“I don’t do that that much.”

“It’s your worst habit.”

“I want to disappear as much as you do,” Jerry said. “This makes it happen.”

“You say that, but I know you. It happens every time. We could just sneak away, but you’re just too much of a good person.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m working on that.”

“You can’t save everyone.” She hated herself for saying it. But wasn’t it the way of the world now? People would always suffer somewhere. He couldn’t save them all. Every time he did, things only got worse for them. She realized she could always leave him. They wouldn’t be looking for her if she wasn’t with him. She could even go home. She could just walk away. But she wouldn’t. He was too good of a person.

“Right now I just want to save us.”

The town’s polish faded as they moved farther in. Soiled toilers replaced the carefree strollers near the gates and Erica could see a clear distinction between those who did the work and those who enjoyed the benefits of the labor.

Men and women hid their faces between sunken shoulders as they worked in storefronts and in the streets. Their shoulders sagged like the corners of their mouths and they said little to anyone. Even their clothes were a stark contrast to that of those she had seen earlier. Soiled and thread-worn, they were held together with scraps of patches and different colored threads.

Nowhere was this more evident than the town square itself. The crowd that had gathered, or possibly been corralled there, was larger than the one in the marketplace. Filthy men that stunk of sweat and exhaustion massed at the center of the open area before an ornate platform. It didn’t have the energy of the marketplace crowd. Everyone stood silently. They didn’t mill or mingle; they stood facing the stage, waiting.

Erica looked around at the crowd and leaned over to Jerry. “What are we doing here?”

Jerry shrugged. “The king told me to come here and volunteer. He wants it to look like I’m with everyone else.”

“I don’t like the look of this. These people look so sad. Well, except her. What the hell is her problem?”

“Who?”

“The one that’s staring at you.”

Her looks had survived the apocalypse without a scratch or scarring or remote disfiguring. The cold air colored her cheeks red in a way that would make Maybelline envious and the jet black hair that hung from beneath a wool cap made the color that much richer. Dark green eyes stared through the crowd at the couple and a full smile grew across her face. Once the girl saw Jerry looking back, her mouth dropped open and she pushed her way through the crowd.

“Oh shit,” Erica said as she turned away. “You made eye contact.”

The woman weaved and ducked through one last part of the crowd. She rushed toward them squealing. “Jerry! Is it you!”

With the vast majority of the world’s population dead or mutated beyond recognition, running into an acquaintance from before the apocalypse made for an awkward situation. Family was often embraced at high speed with a running leap that usually ended poorly for the smaller of the two family members. Once recovered, they would catch each other up on what had happened since the end of the world. It never took more than a couple of minutes, because, though events always seemed harrowing at the time, in the end not much really happened worth sharing.

Enemies, business rivals, former bullies and shitty neighbors were also embraced, though less emphatically and rarely with a leap. Almost universally, grudges were forgotten, transgressions were forgiven and both parties would stand and marvel at how fast bad blood could be destroyed by a nuclear holocaust. Finding a familiar face within the fallout was enough to wipe the slate clean. Often, these rivals ended up becoming the closest of friends since the relationship was built on an unsteady foundation of mistrust and contempt. And, since neither party trusted, or genuinely liked, each other, they were sure to keep a wary eye on one another.

Running into old friends and vague acquaintances, on the other hand, was almost always dangerous. Though a person’s natural instinct was to embrace the familiar, few things remained unchanged when the world ended. Friends were hardly the same people one remembered. There was no telling who they had become to survive the harsh, new world, but it was rarely the person you had shared a beer or two with on the patio of a Mexican restaurant. People had always grown apart when separated by time, distance and circumstance. Now that those distances included mutants, super smart bears or, occasionally, being forced to eat a loved one, a friend was nothing more than a dangerous foe cloaked in love and trust. They had to be approached with caution.

This girl didn’t look dangerous, but Erica didn’t like her all the same. She spoke to Jerry through clenched teeth. “Who the hell is this?”

Jerry kept his gaze on the platform and spoke under his breath. “I have no idea. Maybe if we ignore her she’ll go away.”

The woman stepped in front of them and looked Jerry in the eyes. “Oh my God! It is you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jerry put out his hand. “Have we met?”

“Have we met?” She laughed and slapped his hand away. “It’s me, Brae!” She threw her arms around Jerry and giggled.

Erica did her best to appear as if she was looking at the girl, but her eyes scanned the crowd in hopes that no one was paying attention to this woman that was now hugging her husband.

“Oh my. Nice to meet you, Brae. My name is Mike. This is …”

“His wife, Jennifer,” Erica finished.

Brae let go of Jerry and took a step back to study the couple. “Mike? And Jennifer?”

Erica watched the girl’s reaction. Brae looked deep in his eyes. Brae’s eyes narrowed and Erica saw realization dawn on her face. To her credit, she didn’t miss a step.

Brae unclasped her arms and backed away. “Oh, I’m sorry. You looked so much like someone I knew from before everything went to hell. And you know what that’s like. You just want to jump all over them. I’m sorry. I am so embarrassed.”

“It’s okay,” Erica said.

The girl stuck out her hand and shook Erica’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Jennifer. And Mike. I’m Brae.” The smile grew back to its original size. “What brings you guys to the castle?”

Erica smiled, “An armed escort.”

Jerry laughed. “She’s kidding. We want to be citizens.”

“You’re going on the quest?” Brae’s smile faded. “But, you just got here.”

“Quest? What do you mean?” Erica asked.

Brae didn’t answer. Her gaze moved over Erica’s shoulder as a familiar and annoying laugh began. The couple turned to see Tommy more delighted than ever.

The knight laughed. “So ewe drew the short straw. Eye was worried the king would jest have ewe killed. This is much better.”

“The king asked for my help,” Jerry said.

“Help?” Tommy laughed again. “Ewe’ve been drafted, dummy.”

“Drafted?” Erica asked.

“No, wait. Not drafted. The other one.” Tommy turned to Brae. “Was it called?”

All joy faded from the girl’s voice and she looked away. “Conscripted.”

Tommy snapped his fingers and spoke. “Dat’s it. Ewe’ve been conscripted.”

“Conscripted?” Erica repeated.

“Right. It’s like being drafted but with more punching and threatening language.” The smile faded from his lips but the delight stayed in his voice. “But, lucky for ewe, service is the only way to become a citizen. If ewe live.”

Brae cocked her head. “Tell us how you served again, Tommy.”

The knight’s horrible accent disappeared. “Sir Thomas to you, Brae. And my service is no one’s business by mine and the king’s.”

“Right,” she said. “Sir Tommy, the big tough knight.”

Anger flared in Tommy’s eyes for a brief moment. It faded quickly as his smile grew back into place. “Why don’t you tell them what you do for the kingdom, Brae?” Pleased with himself, Tommy turned and left the trio with the question hanging in the air.

“What’s he talking about?” Jerry asked.

“Never mind. He’s just a little man trying to act big.” She waved her hand at the platform. “This is actually a good thing. The chance for citizenship doesn’t come up often. My husband’s here. We try every time. It’s the only chance Shane has to get out of the mines.”

“We heard about the mines,” Erica said.

“Sure. All of the peasant men work in the mines. They’re hell. I don’t know how you stayed out of them, but you’re timing must have been perfect. Any other time and you’d be digging down there, too. It’s how things work around here. They put you in the ground and you literally have to dig your way out.”

Erica’s stomach twisted again and she looked at Jerry. He was thinking something. Something stupid, no doubt. He had a certain intolerance for injustice like that and he was probably thinking of how to set things right.

Brae must have read the concern in her face because the girl quickly continued. “But you didn’t. And that’s great. You’ll do your service. Shane will do his service. We’ll all become citizens and great friends. It will be just like old times.” Brae caught herself and added, “If there were old times.”

Erica studied Jerry’s face. How did he know this girl?

“Tell me more about the mines,” Jerry asked.

There it was. He was already working on a plan. That plan would lead to a revolution. And that always led to more angry people hunting them.

Brae shrugged. “If you’re not a citizen you either work for the king or you leave his kingdom. That’s really about it.”

Erica breathed a sigh of relief. If they weren’t slaves, they were fools. Their freedom hadn’t been taken from them. They had given it willingly. Jerry wouldn’t blow their cover for fools, she thought. Then she thought again. Jerry probably wouldn’t blow their cover for fools.

Jerry asked Brae, “How many people work in the mines?”

A large figure stepped onto the platform before the girl could answer. What conversation had built in the crowd died more with every step he took across the stage. The giant wasn’t dressed like the knights. His tunic was a dark gray and it bore a unique insignia. A fierce black bear on the gray field with glowing red eyes and the blood of a kill on its lips. There was no purple. The peak of his hood fell over his face to the bridge of the nose. Only a black bearded chin and long dark locks left the shadows it created. He dressed head to toe in matte black leather that reflected nothing. Every inch of him killed light. The light that was reflected came from the silver hilt of a massive broadsword slung across his back. It was a weapon for a giant. The blade was a hand’s width and, though it hung at his shoulder, it nearly scraped the ground as he walked. The handle extended above his head to such a length that even his massive hands would not cover it.

This man in black stepped to the front of the stage and looked over the crowd without speaking a word. The crowd rippled wherever his gaze set as the men beneath it turned their eyes away, shrunk down or tried to hide behind the person next to them. More than one pretended that their shoe needed to be tied and ducked his gaze.

Satisfied with what he saw, he turned to the back of the platform and nodded. He stepped aside to the right most edge of the stage where he knelt and continued to make everyone nervous.

The next man on the stage was everything the man in black was not. Dressed in rich colors and groomed well beyond apocalyptic standards, the young man walked with his chin in the air. His skin radiated above the throng of soot-stained mineworkers and, though his stature was far less imposing than the giant, the crowd knelt before him when he raised his arm to wave.

Erica and Jerry looked around to find that they were the only two left standing.

Brae tugged at Erica’s pant leg and waved her to the ground.

Erica watched Jerry. The man she knew would never kneel, but, apparently, Mike had no issue with it and he took a knee in the snow of the town square. Jennifer kneeled next to him. Chewy laid down and closed her eyes.

She whispered out the side of her mouth. “I think they’re taking this Renaissance fair shit a little too far.”

Brae shushed her.

So did Jerry.

Erica felt a rush of red to her cheeks as she realized she was doing exactly what she’d warned Jerry not to do. She was already finding a reason to start an uprising. She had to be smarter than that. If she started making stupid jokes, Jerry would, too. And that never ended well.

“Please, please, everyone. There’s no time for that.” The young man raised his arms and the crowd stood. “I stand before you not as your prince, but as a friend that needs your help.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “But, also as your prince.”

The crowd rose and Erica studied the young man. He wasn’t much more than twenty but was comfortable in front of the crowd. He stood tall and proud and read from his palm.

“Today I am a broken man …” the prince paused, looked sad for a brief moment and squinted at his hand. His lips moved silently before he looked back to the crowd and spoke again.

“My wife, your princess, has been taken by thieves, by cowards, by …” he looked at his hand again. “By those who wish to see our peaceful kingdom fail.” The citizenry that ringed the crowd gasped and booed. The prince stole another look at his hand as the crowd settled down. “But, our kingdom is strong. And our kingdom is true and loyal to its subjects and we shall chase down these villains and …” he rolled back his sleeve to read his forearm, “… rescue the princess.”

Erica leaned over and whispered to Jerry, “You’re off the hook. It sounds even dumber when he says it.”

“We’re going after her,” the prince continued. “Just like we would if any of you were taken.”

One of the men at the front of the stage raised his hand. “Even me?”

“No, not you. You’re a filthy peasant. I meant proper citizens.” The prince snapped his fingers and said, “That reminds me.” He looked at his other hand. “I need brave men—men of honor and courage—to join this quest to rescue the princess. Those among you that are honorable enough, loyal enough, brave enough, and lucky enough to not get killed shall be made full citizens of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. And you shall be granted all the rights and privileges due a person of your status and probably a bath.” The prince laughed and looked at the man in black. “I added that last bit.”

The man in black nodded but did not smile.

The prince turned and left the stage.

A knight stepped forward and roared to the crowd, “You heard his Highness. We’re going to save the princess. Save the princess and you can crawl out of that shit hole of a mine. Where are my volunteers?”

Filthy and calloused hands shot up without hesitation and waved like a child who knew the answer.

The knight put on a show of deciding whom to choose. He rubbed his chin and paced the stage, occasionally picking a man from the rabble at his feet.

Jerry started into the crowd.

Erica looked at him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “This is our chance to stop running.”

“We can just leave,” she said. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

“If we leave, they’ll just keep chasing us.”

She followed his gaze out into the crowd. Each man tried to reach higher than the one next to him. Some were pulling the others’ hands down in desperation.

“No. No, Jer … Mike, you can’t do this.”

“I love you,” he said and stepped deeper into the crowd.

EIGHT

Before the apocalypse, Sir Dominic probably wasn’t much. Not many people were. It was the law of averages. Not everyone could be someone in a world full of people. But with ninety-nine percent of the population out of the game, it was much easier to be someone than it was before.

Jerry had no idea what the knight did before the world changed, but he could tell the man thought he was somebody now. And he obviously loved every minute of being on a stage.

The knight paced the stage enjoying the selection process more than anyone should. He slowly pointed to men in the crowd at random and issued his verdict with a laugh the men in the crowd could do nothing about. “You. You. Not you. Not you. Yo … just kidding, not you. You.”

“Wait,” said the filthy miner. “I wasn’t volunteering, I had a question.”

The knight rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, what is it?”

“Is the quest going to be dangerous?”

“What? Of course it’s going to be dangerous. It’s a quest. Why wouldn’t it be dangerous? It’s the effin’ wasteland out there. Bandits and beasts behind every rock.”

“Yeah, I guessed it would be dangerous, but how dangerous? I can handle bandits, but … are there going to be mutants?”

“Of course there are going to be mutants.” Sir Dominic pointed to the south of the city. “What do you think those walls are for?”

The man with the questions threw up both hands. “Well, duh, mutants … but, what kind of mutants?”

A man next to him spoke up. “Yeah. Will it be the slow, ambling kind? I don’t mind the slow, ambling kind.”

“Well, no one minds those,” the first filthy miner said. “Or the decomposing kind. They’re not too bad.”

“Right,” the man began to laugh. “I knew a guy that pulled an arm off one of them and beat the thing with its own arm.”

The crowd laughed so good and deep that dust from the mine rose from their lungs. The fit of laughter turned to a coughing fit.

Sir Dominic laughed, too. “That is pretty funny. I have to hand it to that guy.”

The pun silenced the laughing, coughing fit and the crowd returned to silence.

“Oh, to hell with you people,” said Sir Dominic.

The miner who started the line of questioning spoke again, “Look, as long as they’re not the vampire kind. Those things freak me out.”

“And the zombie kind are the worst,” another added.

“Oh. I don’t know if they’re worse than the vampire kind.”

“I think they are.”

“Well, who the hell are you? Some kind of mutant expert?”

“That’s not even a real thing people can be.”

The man in black stomped on the platform. A bang rolled through the crowd leaving silence in its wake. The sound had startled them but it was his voice that ensured silence. “Enough.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it was the kind of whisper that came from under the bed and dark of night. It was a horrible whisper that promised hurt and pain. He raised his voice only slightly. It was like the dull thud of a fist smacking wet sand and shredded from too many swallowed nails. “Where we’re going there’s only one kind of mutant—Aztecs.”

The hands in the audience dropped.

“What?” Sir Dominic asked. “You’re not afraid of a few Aztecs, are you? Get your hands back up.”

The hands stayed down.

“You’re all cowards. You’re a disgrace. You’re not fit to be in the king’s service. ” Sir Dominic stomped back and forth across the front of the stage casting insults into the crowd. Maybe it was how he motivated others. “We should get the women in here. They’ve probably got more balls than you.”

The miner in the front was full of questions. “Well, what else do we get?”

“What do you mean, what else do you get? You get citizenship. You get to leave the mine. You get to call yourself a man. You get to carry yourself with dignity.”

“Yeah, but what else? I mean, if it’s Aztecs, we should get a little something extra.”

There was general agreement from the crowd. It was the bravest they had been.

Sir Dominic looked to the man in black and got a slight shrug in response. “What do you want?”

“Well, I think we should at least get a song written about us. All the great quests get songs.”

“Okay,” the knight said. “You get to call yourself a man, carry yourself with dignity and we’ll have someone write a song about it.”

“Who?” someone asked.

“What do you mean, who. One of the bards, of course.”

“Which one?” This question came from the back of the crowd.

Sir Dominic shrugged. “We’ll get Arno to write it.”

Another voice chimed in. “Eddie sucks. We want Christian.”

The knight chuckled, “Yeah, in your dreams.”

“Why can’t Christian do it?”

“You honestly think your quest is worthy of Christian? The man who wrote the Ballad of Sir Timothy and the Big Breasted Wench?”

The crowd cheered.

“No.” Sir Dominic shook his head. “Eddie will be just fine.”

A challenge came from the crowd. “Name one thing he’s written.”

“He did that one, what’s it, the Tragedy of Too Much Mead and he wrote that one before the war, that one about the shoes at Christmas.”

“That song sucks.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. We’ll get you your damn song, if you’re not horribly killed by Aztecs. What’s it matter, anyway? You’re all too cowardly to volunteer.”

Jerry reached the front of the platform and raised his hand.

Sir Dominic spotted it quickly and pointed to him. “You, the idiot with his hand up. No more questions. You’re going.” The knight scanned the crowd and spit when he saw no other volunteers. “No one else? Fine. These three up front. You’re in too.”

One of the newly conscripted asked, “So we all get to be citizens?”

“Sure. Sure, you do. All you have to do is rescue the princess,” Sir Dominic smiled, “and not die.”

A tall man with sandy blonde hair had been one of the first to raise his hand. “What about our families?”

The knight nodded. “If you live.”

One of the smaller conscripts shot back, “That’s not fair. We’re risking our lives. They should get to be citizens either way.”

“Life’s not fair,” Sir Dominic said. “I used to have a pool. And a Porsche, so shut up.”

The crowd began to argue, but a low growl from the black knight stopped the dissension. “The train leaves soon. Be on it or go back to your hole in the ground.”

Sir Dominic looked down on them and laughed as the crowd dispersed.

Jerry lingered and let them move around him as he listened to their conversations. Now that the danger of being selected had passed, some muttered that they should have been chosen. Others sounded relieved to go back to the mine. Those that truly volunteered celebrated. Those that “volunteered” said nothing. They wore the cold pit in their stomach on their faces and stared into the ground.

Jerry made his way back to Erica. The look on her face worried him. She stared through him. He could see her mind working out his gruesome death at the hands of whatever an Aztec was. He smiled anyway, knowing he couldn’t fool her. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Oh, really?” she asked. “What’s an Aztec?”

“It was some kind of SUV, wasn’t it? I think it came with a tent.”

There was no smile. “You’re trying to be funny. We talked about that.”

Jerry shrugged. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“It wasn’t funny at all. I said you were trying. And now they want you to play the hero.”

“Hardly. I’m going to lie low in the group. Hopefully they’ll save the princess and I won’t have to do anything.”

“Sure, because that’s what you do. Lie low.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You come back alive. That’s what you need to do.”

“I always have.”

Brae had found the man with the sandy blonde hair and thrown her arms around him. They smiled and kissed for a moment before Brae tugged on his hand and directed him towards Jerry and Erica.

Jerry whispered, “Here comes Brae.”

“Oh yeah, by the way, who is Brae?”

“I honestly don’t remember.”

“Well, she seems to remember you two being very close.”

“Where are you getting the ‘very close’ thing? What did she say?”

“What would she say, Mike?”

He didn’t like the way she said his fake name. He already had to worry about whatever the hell an Aztec was and a kingdom full of half crazy cosplayers. He didn’t need this. “I don’t remember her.”

Erica shushed him as the other couple neared.

The girl looked like she was about to squeal. It was boiling behind her grin. “Pretty exciting, huh? This doesn’t happen often. Quests are pretty few and far between.”

Jerry looked at Erica and pointed at the girl. “Brae, right?”

Erica whispered, “Nice try,” just before the squeal erupted.

Brae slapped him on the shoulder. “Of course it is. And, you’re Mike.” She winked. “She’s Jennifer. and this is my husband Shane.”

There was no denying that Shane came from the mines. He looked outlined. Dirt had burrowed under every nail and into every crease it could find giving him the appearance of a living illustration. It was most apparent around his eyes. The man squinted against the light despite a growing overcast. He looked tired, but he shook Jerry’s hand with a grip that could crush rock. “Nice to meet you, Mike. Brae says she knows you from years back.”

Jerry hesitated for a moment before trying to match Brae’s smile. “Yes. She does.”

“That’s great. That seems to happen less and less these days. I’m pretty sure everyone I knew is now dead.” He looked up before adding with certainty, “Or a mutant.”

Brae barreled past the awkward silence that followed. “I wanted to make sure you two met. Shane is going on the quest as well. You two can watch out for one another, Mike.”

“Great. That’s …” Jerry ran out of words. “That’s great.”

“I’ve got you, buddy.” Shane slapped Jerry across the back. “Any friend of Brae’s and all that. Stick with me and we’ll both get back alive. And if we’re lucky, we’ll even save us a princess.”

“Does that sound as weird to you as it does to me?” Jerry asked.

Shane laughed and nodded, “Some things you never get used to. But as far as places to live out the apocalypse, there are weirder and there are worse.”

“Prove it,” Erica said.

Shane laughed. “You’ll probably have to take my word for it. An hour around here isn’t as long as it used to be.”

As if on cue, the town crier rang his bell. A young man not out of his teens, he was tall and frail but his voice boomed and filled the street. He didn’t need the bell but he rang it anyway. “Conscripts, to the train. You have five minutes or you will forfeit in perpitu … in perpetu … oh fuck it, forever your rights to citizenship!”

“Five minutes?” Jerry said. “That’s not much time for good-byes. We still need to find a place for Jennifer to stay.” He looked at Erica. She had missed the use of her alias. The slip up grew into an uncomfortable silence with only one possible end.

“You can stay with me!” Brae clapped her hands, the excited hostess. “I’m sure you have lots of questions and I can tell you all about the kingdom. I can show you around town. We can even go to court and see the king.”

“I can see the king right there,” Erica pointed behind the group as Elias walked by greeting the people on the street.

Brae giggled and took Erica’s hand. “Come on.”

“Thanks,” Erica resisted the tugging at her arm. “I was going to head back to Durango and wait for my brave knight’s triumphant return.”

“What? Oh, they won’t let you do that,” Brae said.

“What do you mean?” Jerry asked.

“Whenever a party goes out, they close the gates. We would never do it, but some of the women might take the chance to run off and meet their husbands on the outside. By keeping everyone here, they think everyone will come back to work out their contract. Everyone stays inside the walls.”

Erica looked to Jerry. “They can’t do that.”

“Sure they can,” Brae said. “Kings can do anything. But don’t worry. You can stay with me.”

“I really …”

“No, it’ll be fun. Like a slumber party. It’s been years since I’ve had a girlfriend stay over.”

Chewy barked.

“Your lion can come, too. Come on. We’ll drop the boys off and then I’ll show you the place.” Brae took her by the hand and the four new friends started towards the rising black soot of the train’s engine.

“This just keeps getting worse,” Erica said too low for Jerry to hear, but she knew he agreed.

NINE

So much had been lost in the devastation of the earth that one could hardly keep a list. It ended many cities, countless lives and more than a few famous landmarks. Some of those targeted had made sense. Symbolic targets like the Statue of Liberty, Mount Vernon and the St. Louis arch were obvious attacks at the American psyche and the St. Louis psyche. But others were obviously targeted out of spite. What other purpose would there be to fire ten nuclear missiles in to the Grand Canyon other than someone just looking to be a dick about things?

In addition to wiping out the population and many great attractions, it was generally believed that small talk had also been obliterated. At the very least it was a lost art that most agreed should stay lost. All talk, especially chitchat, had a purpose. Banter was used to determine if a stranger was a threat. However, this posed a problem for the survivors. There were no sports left to discuss and the weather was almost always hot and miserable or cold and miserable and it shifted so quickly between the two that no one felt comfortable commenting on the day without having any kind of idea what tomorrow was going to be like. There was no TV to discuss. No movies to hate. No NPR. Once the feed of information had stopped, people found it difficult to sound informed. And since no one ever wanted to sound stupid, breeze shooting stopped.

Small talk had been replaced by a general reminiscence that people called “remember when.” “Remember when there was electricity?” “Remember when we could crap indoors?” “Remember when mutants didn’t roam the land trying to eat your face off?”

Shane had been playing this game for the better part of an hour and had covered everything from appliances to favorite desserts. Jerry did his best to pass his turns and get some rest as the train lumbered on to Durango.

The ten conscripts were ushered into a single car and they milled about as the train rolled south. They weren’t alone. Sir Dominic and three other knights sat along the bench refusing to share the seat with the men from the mines. They cited smell as the main reason for not wanting them near. When that failed, they pulled class into the argument.

“Sitting is for citizens,” they laughed. “If you’re lucky, maybe you can sit on the ride back.”

The knights weren’t there to guard him this time. The only passenger they were concerned with rode at the end of the train in a private car. The prince and the man in black had not said a thing to the conscripts at the station. They had passed by without a word, stepped in the private car and slammed the door behind them.

It seemed fitting. The day had been nothing but assholes and train rides, so Jerry sat on the floor with his head against the wall and did his best to rest.

Shane wouldn’t let him.

“So, Brae says she knows you from before the world went to hell.”

“It’s been a long time,” was the best noncommittal answer he could give. Jerry didn’t recognize the girl, but that didn’t mean anything. He was bad with faces and worse with names. He figured once everything blew up he was off the hook for remembering anybody and purged the faces and names that he could remember from his mind. He had always remembered best how people treated him, and if he had known Brae before everything fell apart, she must have been fairly indifferent to him. He couldn’t remember any specific incident, good or bad, that involved the woman.

Just before the world burned it had gone stupid with networking tools and social media. Jerry remembered getting updates from people he was never sure he knew. And if he did know them, he couldn’t remember how. In the end he accepted everyone because it was easier than trying to figure out exactly who they were. Perhaps Brae was a coworker from a job he didn’t like or a classmate of a friend or a cousin of a roommate. Everyone had been so eager to stay connected that many had forgone the formality of connecting in real life and skipped to being best pals online. The world had gotten smaller but cloudier before it blew up. Maybe his past with Brae was in one of those clouds.

“I wish I had known her before,” Shane said. “Can you imagine being able to love somebody with your full attention again? Remember when we could do that? Remember what that was like? The biggest problem use to be remembering to send flowers for no reason. Now, it’s mutants, marauders and monsters—then, if there’s time left over, love.”

Jerry nodded with an emphasis on the down-stroke, hoping that Shane would take the hint and leave him to rest. The man prattled on.

“But this could change everything. Being a citizen in Five Peaks is almost as good as it gets nowadays,” Shane said. “There aren’t many places where you can live without constantly watching your back.”

“It’s that nice?” Jerry asked.

Shane ticked off the first few reasons that came to mind. “Plenty of food. Clean water. Clothes. Real clothes—I’m still not so sure why those are hard to come by. Why does everyone dress in rags?”

“They may not be much for looks, but rags are good and broken in. You can’t put a price on comfort.”

Shane didn’t acknowledge the answer. He continued with his list. “Safety. Civility. The people are really nice.”

“Yeah, that giant dressed in black seems like a peach,” Jerry said.

“Who? The prince’s Dog?” Shane asked. “Sure, there are exceptions.”

“The prince’s Dog?”

“That’s what they call him.”

“How’d he get that nickname? Did he pee on the prince’s rug?”

Shane scowled at him and cast a quick glance to the knights. The rattle of the train kept their voices close, but Shane moved closer and spoke quieter nonetheless. “No, because he’s loyal. Get it? He’s the prince’s personal knight. His bodyguard. He’s brutal.”

“The prince must be a hell of guy to need that kind of protection.”

“Yeah. He’s …” Shane picked at the dirt under his fingernails. Clumps of the mine fell to the floor. “Mostly, the people are nice.”

“And it’s worth working in the mines?”

Shane laughed and turned his head. “We do what we have to, right? It beats wandering the wasteland. If I can give Brae a better life, then I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for her.”

Jerry smiled and thought of Erica. “It’s almost worth living through all this, isn’t it?”

Shane smiled and nodded. “It is.”

Jerry felt something strike his cheek. He turned to see one of the other conscripts with his hands raised above his head. Two others were laughing while looking for something else to throw.

“What’s their problem?” Jerry asked, picking up the small stone that had stung his face.

Shane looked at the men. “Them? Oh, nothing. They just hate you.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing then.” He tossed the stone through the open side of the car.

“Don’t take it personal. They’ve spent years in the mine waiting for their chance at citizenship. The way they see it, they’ve paid their dues.”

“And I just waltz in off the track?”

“Exactly. So it’s not you they hate. It’s just everything about you.”

“As long as it’s not personal.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Shane said. “It won’t come to much. Some light ribbing. One or two may try to kill you. But it’s not really you they hate.”

The brakes whined and the train began to slow. The knights stood from the bench and moved to the edge of the car, kicking the conscripts aside as they took up their positions.

“Well, we must be at the High Line.” Jerry moved aside to let one of the knights near the window and caught a boot in the ribs for his effort.

The four knights posted themselves at the corners of the car giving them a view of the approaching ridge as the train curved on the rail. The pink rock face ran close to the right side of the car. The knights watched.

A knight the others had called Carter shouted across the car. “See anything?”

Dominic hung out the left side of the car and searched the High Line ahead.” I don’t see anything. The bastards have gotten pretty good at hiding though.”

Jerry elbowed Shane. “You want to tell me what they’re looking for?”

“The mountain men.”

“Naturally. I figured if it wasn’t Big Foot it was mountain men.”

“They live somewhere in the forest. We’ve searched the area a hundred times. I’ve been on several parties looking for them trying to earn my citizenship. We never find them. They raid the trains from time to time looking for supplies. But I don’t understand why the knights are so jumpy. They only hit the northbound runs. Those have all the food on it.”

“So they’re just hungry people?”

“No. It’s worse than that. If they can’t get the food, they start taking people.”

“Kidnappers?”

Shane shook his head. “Cannibals. The king’s been trying to rout them since he got here. But they’re impossible to find. They disappear into the woods.”

“So the big bad sheriff has his own personal Robin Hood? How poetic.”

“If Robin Hood ate people.” Shane looked out the window. “I don’t get why they’re so nervous. South bound is the milk run.”

Jerry laid his head back against the wall. “It’s the prince. I imagine a hostage like that is worth a winter’s worth of food and the knights know it.”

The train straightened around the curve and the knights lost their view. They crouched low to see as high up as possible. They drew their swords slowly and realized they had to stand back up to get their weapons free. They were just beginning to squat again when the train’s bell began to sound. It wasn’t the steady peel of a toy. It was hectic and without rhythm. The engineer was pulling the cord as fast as he could.

The knights began shouting, “Where are they?”

Another knight, Jerry hadn’t caught his name, answered with the unhelpful, “I can’t see them.”

“Of course you can’t see them, there’s a fucking cliff in our way,” one called Sir Erik barked like he was in charge of the unit. Jerry wasn’t sure if knights had rank. He always assumed they answered only to the king. But there was a lot he didn’t know about how a kingdom based on shoddy Renaissance fair history was run. Even now he wasn’t sure if it was official or if Erik happened to be the brightest of the four.

Several thumps sounded on the car’s roof followed by footsteps racing to the rear of the train. The knights stared at the roof and followed the sound, unable to do anything but shout at it.

Sir Dominic screamed the obvious, “They’re going for the prince!”

“How did they know he was here?” asked Carter.

“They must have a spy in the kingdom,” said the unnamed knight. “How else could they know?”

Sir Erik slapped Sir Nameless on the head. “Because the dumbass puts a giant flag on his damn private car.”

“I can’t even hear them now.” Dom was hanging out the window over the edge of the High Line straining to see. “We’ve got to stop them.”

Sir Nameless backed away from the window. “I really hate this part. Why can’t they attack when we’re not moving? Or so high up?”

“We’ve got to do it.” Dominic struggled to put his sword in the scabbard to prepare for the climb to the roof.

Erik was definitely in charge of the thinking. “The hell we do.” He pointed to the conscripts. “We’ll make them go.”

Sir Nameless happily kicked the conscripts to their feet and forced them to the window while Carter set a large duffel bag on the bench. He unzipped the bag revealing an assortment of machetes, sledges and axes. Rusted blades and rotted handles were handed out to the conscripts.

Jerry received a hatchet that had seen better days. “Am I supposed to give them tetanus?”

Sir Carter grinned. “What kind of valiant knight would I be, sending you out there unarmed?”

“What about my guns?” Jerry asked.

“There are no guns allowed in the kingdom,” Sir Dom said. “Lead is for the weak. We rule by steel, will and nothing else.”

The nameless knight pointed to Sir Dom. “Law.”

“Right,” Sir Dom nodded. “Steel, will, law and then nothing else.” The knight grinned again. “Now take the hatchet or take nothing.”

Jerry returned the sarcastic smile and moved over to the window facing the drop off.

“Told you he was an idiot.” A conscript without any teeth sat across from Jerry on the cliff-ward side of the coach. The others joined in the laughter as the conscript gummed his theory. “You may be lucky, new guy, but you’re a dumb ass. You go out that side and you’re going to fall.” The conscript laughed again, grabbed the ledge of the roof above him and pulled himself out the coach window.

The cliff hit him hard enough to knock the last tooth from his head and rip his body from the carriage. The tooth landed in the middle of the car. No one was sure where the body ended up.

The remaining conscripts stopped laughing and shuffled to other side of the car and formed a line behind Jerry. One gave him a nervous thumbs-up and a weak smile before wishing him good luck.

Jerry shook his head and pulled himself up onto the ledge of the window. He was only two feet higher than he had been, but the valley floor seemed a mile lower than it had a moment ago. Also, he didn’t remember it spinning.

He expected to feel the fear in his stomach, but it struck elsewhere. He felt it in the back of his knees as they began to wobble. Heights were never an issue for him, but he had never experienced them while hanging from the side of a train topped with cannibals before. He considered for a moment that it was less the heights and more the cannibals that caused his overly cautious movements, but when his foot slipped and he found himself dangling from the side of the carriage, he decided that it was definitely the heights.

Several hands reached for his as he pulled himself up the side of the car. Jerry got his foot back on the window ledge and pushed himself up to the roof. Wind blasted his ears as he rolled on top. He couldn’t hear anything but the roar of motion. The sway of the train threatened to push him over the edge and into the ravine. He stood and shuffled his feet until he found the proper stance for train-top combat before looking for the attackers. They were several cars past him and racing for the royal car.

He moved without hesitation and leapt the gap to the next car. Any boy that ever passed a train on the road had imagined jumping from car to car with little more than a bounce. Too many video game levels had made it impossible to drive alongside a locomotive for any length of time without imagining some scenario where racing along the top would be necessary. What surprised him was how easy it was.

His feet struck the roof of the next car and he rushed on, making short work of the gaps until a sudden lurch in the train caused him to slow.

The engine had begun to brake and the car beneath him shuddered as it caught up to the one in front of it. A series of bangs sounded as the train caught up to its new speed and the cars collided into their couplings. He paused as he waited for the jarring to stop and turned towards the front of the train.

Several of the boarders had made their way to the engine and a struggle had ensued for control of the train. Knights and mountain men collided. The purple and gold uniforms were easy to make out in the scuffle, but the earth tone rags of the raiders blended into the wood and soot of the tinder car making them difficult to spot from such a distance.

Motion on the cliff caught his eyes and Jerry spotted the ropes the invaders had used to board the train. They slapped against the rock face as he followed them up. Several more mountain men were on their way down.

A burst of grey erupted from the smoke stack as the throttle opened once more and the train accelerated. The series of thuds and bangs began again as the engine accelerated and train cars hurried to catch up. The other conscripts had made it to the top of the car and stood crouched low to the roof, afraid to stand.

Shane didn’t hesitate. He rushed to catch up to Jerry, leaping the gaps between cars without thought.

Jerry couldn’t wait. The raiders would reach the prince soon. And though the king hadn’t specified the prince’s safe return as part of their deal, he figured it was a loophole he didn’t want to see come up. He turned back towards the end of the train.

The mountain man swung from the cliff wall and caught Jerry in the chest with both feet.

The air rushed out of his lungs as Jerry tumbled back toward the roof and rolled off the side of the car. A blind and desperate grab was all that stopped him from plummeting to the forest below. The sudden stop pulled at his shoulder as his hand grabbed the lip of the roof. Still struggling to fill his chest with air, he dangled above the drop with his back to the car. He spun, trying to face the train and grabbed for the roof with his free hand. The attempt missed and he felt himself slipping towards the abyss.

The mountain man that had kicked him screamed as he flew from the top of the train and over the cliff. Shane reached over the edge and grabbed Jerry’s hand. “Climb up.”

Jerry spun again. Facing the train, he found a foothold and took a moment to catch his breath.

Shane pulled at his arm. “There are still cannibals up here, you know?”

Jerry nodded and grabbed the roof with his other hand. Shane helped him over the edge and safely to the middle of the car.

He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks for that.”

Shane smiled. “Like I told you back at the castle, man, I’ve got you.”

“Holy crap, you almost died,” the first conscript shouted as he arrived.

The others were close behind and most had commentary on the near fatal fall. Some just whistled. Others laughed and smashed their hands together while making a splat sound.

Jerry ignored their comments and turned to see the progress of the raiders. They hadn’t slowed and were almost to the rear of the train. The prince’s stupid flags flapped in the wind as the private car slammed up to speed with the train. Several of the mountain men had turned to hold off the conscripts a few cars down the line. Jerry took off in a sprint and pulled the hatchet from his belt.

He leapt two more cars and caught up with the first pair of boarders.

They didn’t hesitate to attack.

The one on the left held a baseball bat wrapped in rusted barbed wire. He wound up for a swing that would have taken Jerry’s head off if he hadn’t slid under the blow. He swept the swinger’s legs out from underneath him and sent him crashing to the roof. Jerry freed his foot from the tangle of legs and kicked the invader in the face as he tried to stand.

He rolled to the side as the second mountain man swung at him with a tire iron. The tool left a dent in the metal roof and the man pulled it back to strike again.

Jerry scrambled to his feet and backed towards the edge of the train.

His attacker smiled and brought the iron down at Jerry’s head.

Jerry dove forward into the man’s knees and stood. The swing and the lift tumbled him over the edge of the car into the former National Forest below.

Jerry turned as the first attacker got to his feet and retrieved his bat. His back was to Shane when the tall man landed on the car and checked the attacker from the roof. He flew a few feet in the air and collided with the cliff face.

Judging by the sounds that followed, Jerry couldn’t decide which side of the train would be worse to fall off. He shook off the thought and ran on. There were two empty cars between him and the next assailant. The man stood waiting for him with a hewing ax. The blade was as broad and fast as the mountain man’s smile. “Mine’s bigger than yours.”

Jerry leapt, landed on the car and threw the hatchet.

The man screamed as the blade buried itself in his shoulder. He grabbed at the handle to pull it free but pulled his hand back as every touch made it hurt more. “That’s not fair!”

Jerry ran on and grabbed the hewing axe’s handle. He spun the man around and dumped him over the edge towards the rock face. He hoped the man would fare better than the one Shane had crosschecked into the cliff, but he refused to listen for the sound. He reached the end of the car and looked down. Several flatbeds were now between him and the prince’s car. The mountain men had already made their way across.

The prince’s private car was easy to spot. A dozen flags snapped against the wind and banners fluttered gold and purple from every easement announcing to everyone that there was a very important prick inside.

Several raiders were at the door, ready to rush inside while another two took turns swinging a sledge against the hinges. One more stood between Jerry and the car flailing a length of chain. The man was massive and growled with every swing of the chain. There was no way into the fight without catching a mouthful of iron.

Shane arrived next to Jerry and looked at the man on the flatbed. “Nice axe. You get this one.”

Jerry turned and looked for the other conscripts. They were several cars behind and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to help. Hesitant to stand, they crawled in a line along the center of the roof. Some sat and scooted along on their asses. Jerry looked beyond them. The train was finally heading out of the High Line. The engine had disappeared behind the trees and the edge of the cliff wasn’t far from where he now stood. Jerry handed the ax to Shane and ran towards the front of the train.

“Hey,” Shane yelled after him. “I said you get this one.”

Every step he took was stupid. He knew this but continued on. He veered towards the cliff and leapt from the car. His hands found the descent rope and he locked his grip as he kicked off the wall and swung back over the train. He found himself over the abyss again and let the rope slide through his hands. It felt like he was falling. He let his stomach twist for half a second more before tightening his grip on the rope.

The rope pulled taut and swung him back towards the train as the final passenger car passed and the flatbeds began to roll under him.

The man with the chain dropped his guard. His mouth dropped open as Jerry swung low underneath him and wrapped the rope around his ankle.

The train steamed past the rope’s anchor point and the rope snapped tight, lifting the raider into the air and spinning him into the chasm below. There was some screaming.

Shane dropped to the flatbed. “Fine. You win the trophy, okay?”

Jerry yelled at the remaining men. “Step away from the door!”

The hammering stopped as the group of five turned to find their backup gone.

“Back away!” Jerry yelled again.

Two men rushed across the flatbed drawing knives.

“Why did you do that?” Shane asked.

Jerry rushed forward and collided with one before he could fully draw a knife. The man was bigger than him and landed on top. Jerry felt the crush of weight against his chest and tried to roll from under his attacker. He couldn’t get free.

The raider struck him in the face and the blow turned his head. In the brief moment before the next strike, he saw Shane pinned beneath the other attacker struggling to keep a knife out of his face.

There was a crash as the door to the prince’s car swung open. Reports filled the air as the man in black fired from twin revolvers into the group of men that stood near the door. There was no time for the group to react or run. All they could do was stand there and soak up bullets.

The man on top of him turned toward the sound. The momentary distraction was enough for Jerry to work a knee under the man and push him into the air.

The attacker landed in the space between the flatbeds and fell to the rails beneath. The train rolled on without the slightest bump.

Jerry rolled over and looked at Shane. The blade was inches from his throat. Jerry yelled to the man in black, “Shoot him!”

The prince’s Dog lowered the guns.

“Shoot him!”

The man in black turned and walked back into the car. The door closed.

Jerry got to his feet and stumbled across the flatbed in a desperate attempt to stop the knife. There wasn’t enough time and the knife started to cut. He dove for the man as Shane began to scream. Jerry collided with the man and knocked him aside.

The mountain man stood and raised the knife.

Jerry rolled over on his back as the raider dove for him. He caught the man with his feet and pushed him away. He was trying to hold him back but it was enough force for the man to lose his balance. He teetered over the edge of the car and grabbed Jerry’s boot to prevent the fall. Jerry tried to pull him back onto the car but the cliff got him first.

The thud was sickening and the splatter was enough to change Jerry’s opinion on trains.

Shane helped him up. Blood ran from his friend’s throat where the knife had cut. It was a trickle. The wound wasn’t deep. Shane nodded that he was okay. “Thanks for the save. I was hoping you’d owe me for longer than that.”

Jerry turned and stormed to the prince’s car. Despite the beating it had taken from the sledgehammers, the door was barely scratched. Jerry pounded on the door until a slot opened.

The dark eyes of the man in black peered out.

“What the hell’s your problem?”

Jerry pointed to Shane. “He almost died! You could have saved him.”

The man in black grunted. “That man is not worth a bullet.”

Jerry kicked the door. “You son of a bitch!”

The eyes behind the slot showed no emotion. They looked him up and down. “You might be though.”

The slot closed.

TEN

The post-apocalyptic world was quiet. It wasn’t the lack of people or traffic. It was the abundance of secrets that had to be kept. A source of clean water. A store of food. All survivors had secrets. It’s how they survived. And, if they didn’t, they pretended they did so they could fit in. A walk through any town was filled with the silence of secrets. Commerce was done. Information was traded. But little was said that didn’t have to be said. A wrong word would give a possible enemy the advantage. A slip of the tongue could lead bandits to one’s home. There were no idle words.

That was not the case in the mountain kingdom.

The Kingdom of the Five Peaks had an odd way of dealing with panic. The news of the princess’s abduction spread quickly after the meeting in the town’s square. The women gasped, the children cried and then everyone collectively shrugged and went about their day.

Erica strolled the town with Chewy at her side. If this was where they were going to stay, she felt she should explore a little. Her wanderings exposed her to whispers of gossip first uttered in amazement and soon dismissed with a wave of the hand.

The princess was sweet, the whispers said with a reluctant acceptance. But Erica could hear envy in every compliment and fewer and fewer tears being forced as the day went on. The whispers turned to how the princess never really belonged, how she never really was one of them. Within an hour they had written the young woman off and the talk turned to who would be the next princess and how hot the prince looked. They secretly hoped they would be the next Mrs. Your Highness.

By noon, they were talking about everything but the kidnapping.

The calm demeanor reminded Erica of New Hope, her home before the assassins started showing up. There had always been dangers in the Texas town, but there had been neighbors and friends. They worked and laughed together. The town was filled with people they could trust. But, staying there put everyone in danger. So they left.

Ever since that day, she had looked over her shoulder. She never let herself be distracted from her surroundings. Jerry or Chewy were always at her side.

It must have been the mountain air, because, after only a short while, Erica didn’t care about the princess either. Within an hour she found herself lost in the architecture and staring into the shop windows as if the end of the world had never happened. She was a tourist once again. She even let Chewy explore on her own, though the dog never let Erica out of her sight.

Even when Brae snuck up on her at a store window, Erica didn’t jump, scream or reflexively cripple the girl.

“Hey, girlfriend!” Brae was all smiles. She was always all smiles. “Whatcha looking at?”

Erica smiled back. She had no idea who this girl was or how she knew Jerry, but it was good to have a friend again. “Nothing,” she said. “And it’s wonderful. This place is so peaceful.”

“I absolutely love it here. And you should see it in the spring. Or the summer. The summer is gorgeous.”

“No one seems worried about anything.”

Brae giggled and took Erica’s hand. She led her down the street. “What’s there to worry about? There’s plenty of food. Plenty of big strong men to keep us safe. If you don’t think about it too much, it’s like the Crappening never happened.”

They passed a group of women that were laughing together. Brae waved with a smile. The women grew quiet and turned their eyes away.

“What was that about?” Erica asked.

“See? Women can be just as bitchy here as they were before the bombs dropped. Isn’t it great? It’s the happiest I’ve been since we left back east.”

“Where did you come from back east?” Erica asked.

“Knoxville. Or what was Knoxville. Have you been?”

Erica shook her head. “No. What’s in Knoxville?”

“Oh my God. What’s not there? They’ve got everything. Music, theater, dance, art … it’s amazing. They’ve still got the lights on.”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“The people that run the city are brilliant. I mean, total geniuses. It’s completely safe and everything is beautiful. The whole city is filled with artists of all kinds. You can’t get in unless you’re an artist. Or you had to be a patron.”

“A patron?”

“Uh huh. It’s simple, really. If you weren’t making art, you were a patron of the arts. You would basically sponsor an artist. Make sure they were fed and had a place to live and create their art.”

The girl’s big personality began to make sense. “You’re an artist, aren’t you?”

Brae laughed and waved to another group of women after the laugh caught their attention. The women didn’t return the wave. Brae continued, “I couldn’t paint a house. Shane is the artist. He’s a musician.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Brae raised her hand. “His whole band survived the Crappening and they were one of the first acts in the city. That’s where we met.” She rolled her eyes in a big way. “That’s right. I fell for the rock star.”

Brae smiled. Most relationships in the wasteland formed out of necessity. Even she and Jerry had met under duress and, although it was love, they couldn’t say they would have met had it not been for the roving death truck. It was nice to hear of love blossoming under normal circumstances. “His band must have been good.”

Brae teetered her hand back and forth. “They were okay. But they were absolutely the best of what was left.”

A man passed them with a smile. “Hello, Brae.”

Brae’s smiled faded. She nodded at the man as he passed. “Hi, Tony.”

Erica didn’t press the coldness she sensed in the conversation. “So what happened? Why did you leave Knoxville?” Outside the walls of the kingdom, she would never have thought to ask this question. You didn’t ask people about their past. It usually ended up with someone crying. But here, it felt right.

Brae’s smiled returned. “What always happens to a rock band? They broke up.” The pair crossed the street and turned towards the slope. “Their singer got a big head and became a big dick. The others in the band put up with it, but Shane had known the guy forever and tried to talk some sense into him … so, they kicked him out of the band.” Brae grew silent and stared at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Brae,” Erica said, but it didn’t help. “Why no solo career for Shane?”

“Well, he’s a bass player. There’s not much work for a bass soloist.”

“He couldn’t play anything else?”

“Like I said, they were an okay band. Not really the best musicians.”

“He couldn’t find anyone else to play with?”

Brae shook her head. “Without the band, we lost our patron and had to leave.”

“But, all the way out here? Why wander so far?”

Brae shrugged “Why does anybody wander? We were chasing a rumor. Another myth of the wasteland. People said the musicians went west. We heard there was a town full of nothing but musicians. Shane wanted to find it. He wanted to start another band and return to Knoxville and show his old band up.”

Erica opened her arms to the town. “And instead you found a fairy tale.”

Brae’s laughed returned and she began to speak, but her words were interrupted by the blast of several trumpets.

“Were those trumpets?” Erica asked.

“Of course they were!”

“Of course they were,” Erica echoed with less enthusiasm.

Brae grabbed her hand. She did that a lot. “The king is about to speak. Let’s go.”

The pair rushed through the streets back to the town square as Chewy tore up tracks in the snow to catch up with the girls.

The stage had been repurposed since the conscription service. The king’s colors were draped as the backdrop. Carpeting had been set across the wooden slats and several knights stood on the ground in front forming a wall of protection.

The crowd had changed as well. It was larger than before, but there was no sign of the men from the mine. Everyone in attendance dressed in clean clothes. Their skin was untouched by the signs of labor and they smiled and gossiped as they awaited the king’s arrival.

The knights at the base of the stage raised five silver trumpets and blared. They gleamed in what little light broke through the clouds and they blared a five-note announcement as the king stepped from behind the drapes and walked to the center of the stage accompanied by two knights.

His presence silenced the crowd and the king began to speak. His voice boomed. “Citizens of the Five Peaks—my friends. My fellow survivors, I come before you today a troubled king. It is my understanding that there is a rumor running rampant through our fair city. It is a rumor that I must say, with heavy heart, is true.”

The crowd gasped and a woman screamed, “Mark, you cheating bastard.” She began to beat the man next to her about the head and shoulder.

“No. Laura … Laura, please wait. That’s not what …” The king turned to one of the knights on the stage. “Make her stop hitting him.”

The knight dropped from the stage and worked his way through the crowd to the domestic dispute. He pulled Laura back from Mark and turned her to face the king.

“Good,” the king said. “Laura, that wasn’t the rumor I was talking about. I hadn’t even heard that rumor. I was talking about the princess.”

The crowd gasped again. One woman raised her hand. “I heard the princess was kidnapped.”

“Right,” the king pointed to her. “That’s the one. That’s the rumor. Now if everyone could just settled down.” Elias cleared his throat and continued on. “I’m afraid it is true. Our fair princess has been taken from us by those that wish to do us harm. I will not let this stand. As I speak, the prince races to his betrothed’s rescue. It will only be a matter of time before she is returned safely to us.

“I’m aware how much she means to all of us. Many of you are her friends or admirers. So, we shall welcome her home with a celebration worthy of a princess. We shall have a feast!”

The crowd cheered with a passion Erica had not seen in years. She watched the joy beam from the crowd and whispered, “Wow.”

Brae hung her head. “Oh yay. A feast.”

The king continued. “I shall need your help. We’ll need banners. We’ll need dancers. All of the bards will play. And we’ll need a meal the likes of which no one here has ever seen.” Elias signaled the trumpeters. “Let the preparations begin!”

The trumpeters blew, the crowd roared and the courtyard quickly emptied as the excited citizens saw to their tasks. Erica and Brae were left all but alone.

Erica was in awe. “Wow, he really does this king bit well,” Erica said.

“Well, he should. He’s been the king for over twenty years.”

“Wait. How could it be that long?”

“Oh, you don’t know the story. Well …”

“Shouldn’t ewe be seein’ to ya chores, ladies?” That voice. That horrible English accent.

The girls turned as Tommy swaggered across the square. Brae couldn’t hide her lack of enthusiasm. “Hi, Tommy.”

“Sir Thomas to ewe, Brae. And to ewe, Jennifa. Ewe may be unaware as ewe’re new here, but the king speaks for the ears of the citizens only. Lil’ Brae ’ere knows better.” His eyes grew hard. “What are ewe doing here, Brae?”

“We were just walking by when it all started. I promise.”

“Right.” Erica agreed with the lie. “We’re really excited about the feast.”

“Oh, really.” Tommy laughed and reached up to touch Brae’s face. “I didn’t think ewe enjoyed feasts.”

Brae knocked his hand away and stormed off. “Come on, Jennifer.”

Erica hurried to catch up as Tommy laughed behind them and said, “See ewe at the feast.”

They walked in silence until Tommy was out of sight. Erica could tell the girl was upset and genuinely wanted to help. “What’s going on here, Brae?”

“Oh right. The history. You see, Elias has been king like forever.”

It wasn’t what Erica meant, but she didn’t press Brae and let her continue the story. “Explain that.”

“A lot of these people—well, most of them anyway—were Renaissance fair workers.”

“What?”

Brae laughed, “I know, right? They travelled the country with the seasons playing knights and damsels and Elias always played the king.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No. He also ran the turkey leg hut, but mostly he played the king.”

Erica laughed and it broke the frown on Brae’s face.

“So when the world ended, they came out here and basically just kept it going.”

“Why here?”

“They always spent their summer season in Colorado. That’s how they knew about the mine. And if you’re going to be a king, you need gold, right? They settled in and reopened the mines. Soon Elias had his own currency, his own economy and his own honest to God kingdom. Make believe no more.”

“And everyone was okay with this?”

Brae bobbed her head. “About half. There was another king. He mostly worked the weekday shift and wasn’t too big on losing his own fake crown.”

“What happened to them?”

“He took his crown and left. They started a kingdom to the south. That’s who the king was talking about. The princess is the other king’s daughter.”

“He actually married off his daughter? Like the dark ages?”

Brae nodded. “That’s how serious they take this.”

“So that’s why Tommy does the accent.”

“No, he does that because he’s an idiot.”

Erica laughed and looked up at the buildings on the street. The banners flapped in the breeze as far as she could see. The people’s clothes were so well kept they now appeared like costumes. “This explains so much.”

“If you can look past the pageantry, it’s really not that bad,” Brae said. “He’s applied his turkey leg knowledge to an economy that works. He was smart enough to lead everyone here, reopen the mines and keep things running. So what if they like to have sword fights every now and then? It’s a safe place.”

A group of three women called to Brae from across the street. Each wore an expression of disgust that looked as if they had spent an hour putting it on. Brae rushed across the street and hugged each of them. Erica and Chewy crossed the street behind as the women began talking.

“Yay,” the tallest of the women said with no sign of actual joy. “A feast.”

A brunette in the back of the group echoed the disappointment. “Yay. Can’t wait for that. Bunch of drunken assholes.”

“So what?” Sandra, the tall one, said. “Let them have their stupid party. We’ll have one of our own and we’ll have ours first. We’ll be so hungover they won’t want to come near us.”

Brae proudly introduced Erica to the group. “Girls, this is Jennifer. Jennifer, these are the girls.”

They welcomed her with smiles, hugs and compliments. She was gorgeous, they said. They loved her hair. How did she keep it so beautiful in the wasteland? The kind words were nice and Erica found herself liking these strangers. It was an odd feeling to like strangers.

“So, it’s decided,” Sandra wrapped up the conversation. “Go home and put on your best dresses, girls, because tonight we’re going to party.”

There were more hugs, more smiles and the group of women carried on their way.

“They seem fun,” Erica said.

“They are the best. You’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Erica said.

“Don’t be silly.”

Erica gave her a playful pout. “What would I wear?”

“Not to worry. I’ve got plenty of stuff back at my place that will fit you just fine.”

Erica smiled her agreement. It had been an apocalypse since she had a girls’ night out. It would do her some good to cut loose for once.

Brae smiled back. “I have some things I have to do before tonight. Why don’t you take a look around town and then meet me at my place.” Brae gave her the address and walked away.

Erica shouted after her. “Where should I go?”

“Why don’t you pick out a house for you and … Mike.” Brae winked and hurried off.

ELEVEN

Their departure from Durango had been delayed. Sir Dominic and three of the conscripts had gone to gather supplies for the quest and, according to Sir Erik’s screaming, their tardiness had put them behind schedule.

Jerry had envisioned a team of horses waiting for them in Durango, as valiant steeds were the most appropriate mode of transportation for rescuing a princess. He’d pictured the beasts draped in purple and gold, of course, and chomping at the bit to begin the quest.

Oddly enough, this was the safest he’d ever felt on a school bus. When did they get seat belts? Jerry remembered being thrown from his seat every time his school bus went over a set of railroad tracks. In fact, that was the game. This one had comfortable seats, safety restraints and what looked like air-conditioning. In school, his bus had a steel box and vent windows that opened from the top to ensure that there was absolutely no relief from the heat.

Jerry held his hand up against the vent. Warm air flowed around his fingers. The befuddlement must have shown on his face because it drew Shane’s attention.

“Kids these days, right?” Shane said.

Jerry nodded. “They don’t know how easy they’ve got it.”

“Not like when we were kids. We had it hard.” He smiled.

Jerry chuckled and looked out the window. The New Mexico desert just went on and on. The only color besides dehydrated brown was the greenish blue of the Animas River that ran along highway 550 south of Durango. Aside from that, there was nothing at all.

Though it called to millions before the end of the world, Jerry never understood the draw of the desert. Others found it magical and enchanting. Jerry found it hot and thirsty. And the idea of the sand made him itch. It made sense for those with allergies or arthritis, but it had never been for him. Even the river outside the bus wasn’t wet enough to ebb the dryness that arose in his throat just thinking about it.

Rocks and sand rolled by and blurred into a boring tapestry that stretched mile after mile as the highway ran straight forever. Every time it curved he questioned it. Why bother? Maybe even the engineers got bored and cranked the wheel on the steamroller just for kicks.

The rescue party had shrunk. The train had been full of knights. Now it was just the four that had traveled in the car with the conscripts and a fifth to drive the bus. The four were stationed at each corner of the bus. The prince and his Dog sat three rows behind the front guard. The contingent of conscripts sat in the back.

The men quickly grew tired of the scenery and began to chat. The conversation was dominated by talk of Aztecs.

Jerry was content to sit in silence and let the desert views put him to sleep. Considering the breakdown, the fight, his arrest, the train ride, the other train ride and fighting off the raiders, it had been a full day already.

“Have you ever seen an Aztec?” Shane asked to ruin the silence.

Jerry shrugged. “I’ve never heard of one. But I guess that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen one. Every region has its particular names for nightmares.”

“I’ve never seen one either. But I heard one. That was enough for me. It was when we first came out west. We’d come across 40 from Tennessee. We stopped for the night just off the road. It got so damn dark you couldn’t see a thing. Hell, once I went to pee and couldn’t find the car. If it hadn’t have been for Brae flashing the lights, I’d still be out here hoping I didn’t blindly step in my own puddle.

“But we felt safe in the car. We’d spent more than a couple of nights like that. We figured if I couldn’t find the car after a pee, no one was going to be sneaking up on us.

“But that night there was something out there. It shrieked and wailed like nothing I’d ever heard. And I use to play in a hair metal tribute band.”

This made Jerry smile, but he refused to open his eyes and hoped Shane would notice.

“But this was worse than teen angst and frustrated hormones. It was—it was a human scream mixed with a monster’s. Like the voice was trying to get away from something terrible but that something was itself.” Shane looked out the window. “They came from everywhere. Not all at once. One in front of us. One behind us. Then off in the distance. And then one so close you were afraid to open your eyes in case it was just standing there.

“We didn’t sleep that night. When we got to Five Peaks, they explained what they were—men and women driven mad by something that blew in after the end of the world. No one knows what it was. But the Aztecs can’t think. They can’t function. They can’t open a can of food. So they eat whatever they see.”

“More cannibals? Do all the local monsters eat each other?”

“No, this is worse.”

“There’s a worse way to be eaten by another person?” Jerry asked. “Seems it ends badly no matter what.”

“The men in the mountains … they have enough decency to kill you first. They’ll kill you, cook you … hell, they may even bury what’s left, I don’t know. But you’ll get nothing like that from the Aztecs. They’re less than primitive. The only fire they see is caused by lightning or victims setting themselves on fire to avoid their fate. They’re not going to put you in some giant headhunters pot. They’re just going to dig in whether you’re ready for dinner or not. All they do is wail and eat.”

The brakes squealed like a gremlin in the works as the bus slowed. The driver cranked the wheel and set the bus sideways across the road before engaging the parking brake.

Jerry opened his eyes. “Why are we stopping?”

“This is the edge of the kingdom,” Shane said. “It’s where the reign of the Five Peaks ends and the Desert Kingdom begins.”

“Another kingdom?” Jerry looked out the window. “Why isn’t there a guard?”

“They don’t need one.”

“Why not?”

Shane tapped on the window indicating a road sign. The sun, sand and nuclear fallout had rusted a good portion of it, but it still served its purpose. Jerry read the faded paint. Welcome to Aztec. 6378 friendly people & 6 old soreheads. “Cute.”

“Get up, peasants! It’s time to earn your king’s respect.” The knights kicked the conscripts to the front of the bus and shoved them out the door where they gathered on the asphalt. The air was dry and bit at their skin with cold and sand.

The prince stepped to the door and spoke. “It would normally be beneath me to wish people like you luck. But for the sake of my princess and my kingdom, I must. So … good luck. I hope most of you don’t get eaten.” The bus door swooshed shut and the prince disappeared.

“That was kind of sweet,” Jerry said. “Don’t you think?”

“Enough out of you,” Sir Dominic shouted as he handed out the rusty weapons from the duffel bag.

The conscripts groaned. “These again?”

“You want to be citizens? You want to be knights? You fight like a knight.” Sir Dom handed Jerry a machete as he explained the plan. “Our sources say the kidnappers ran with the princess down the Animas. In town, there is the perfect place for an ambush. You will hide and wait for the kidnappers there. When they show up, you kill them. Then rescue the princess.”

“In Aztec?” The conscript’s voice broke with fear.

“Yeah, in Aztec,” Dominic answered as he shoved an ax into the man’s hands.

“But there’re Aztecs in … Aztec.”

Sir Dominic got in the man’s face and whispered, “So think about how the princess must feel. Why are you making this all about you?”

“That’s enough crying,” Sir Erik interjected. “Get her and bring her back here. If you don’t save her, you might as well stay and let the beasts eat you.”

Jerry rolled his eyes and started toward the town.

Shane followed closely behind while the others considered their options. The bus door opened once more and the man in black snarled at them all. They rushed to catch up to the two men.

The bus had stopped short of a collapsed bridge. The entire span had fallen into a dry ravine and a suspension bridge of questionable engineering had been put up in its place. The fall wasn’t but a few feet because the desert was as flat as it was boring. But the chasm was enough to stop a bus. Each man crossed the bridge with careful steps and continued on down the road.

It wasn’t long before boredom drove some of them to talk. “This isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth it.”

“Why did I volunteer for this?”

“At least you volunteered for this. I’m going to get eaten for nothing.”

“I heard they can’t be killed by man.”

“I heard the same thing. We should have sent the women.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant they’re immortal.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“It is not. It makes perfect sense if you think about it.”

“They’re mutants. How could being turned into a monster make you immortal?”

“They’re not mutants. They’re demons. Big difference.”

Jerry sighed and quickened his pace. The faster he walked, the less bickering he would hear.

Shane kept pace with him and didn’t speak until Jerry asked him a question.

“What’s all this Aztec nonsense?”

“The town isn’t far from something called the Aztec ruins. It used to be a national monument. Some people—like these morons behind us—say the war disturbed the ruins and awoke ancient Aztec demons and that the men and women in town became possessed. They say the spirit finds you when you sleep and possesses you through your dreams. You experience visions of rage and murder before it consumes your body leaving your spirit intact and powerless. They say that’s why they wail like men but kill like animals.”

“What do you think?” Jerry asked.

“I think people are stupid.”

“So you don’t believe it then?”

Shane shook his head.

“Why not?”

“The ruins are Pueblo. And I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t a lot of Aztec demons in a Pueblo site.”

Jerry laughed. “So why do they call them the Aztec ruins?”

“Because people have been stupid for a really long time. The end of the world didn’t change that.”

Jerry laughed and nodded.

Shane continued. “We were getting dumber by the day towards the end there. I blame the rise of electric house music. I mean, people were paying concert prices to see a man operate a computer. If you ask me, I’d say we were just begging for extinction.”

The sun set behind the city of Aztec half an hour later. The group approached with complete silence and scanned the shadows and the fading light looking for any sign of movement.

“Of course we’d have to go into the spooky ghost town inhabited by cannibals at dusk,” Shane said. “What do we do now?”

“We wait in the spooky ghost town,” Jerry said. “And we try to be as quiet as possible.”

The wailing began an hour later. The screams were unlike any he had ever heard. He had to give Shane credit; the man had described them perfectly. They were screams of torment and pain—human and animal alike. The bulk of the group hid from the possibility of discovery in a dilapidated restaurant across from the bridge while another two kept watch from the shadows of the overpass.

“This isn’t worth it.” The youngest conscript began to pace the room. “I’d rather be in the mines. The mines are better than this.”

Shane snapped at him. “You can go if you want. No one is keeping you here.”

A long wail from an unseen Aztec came from somewhere nearby.

“They’re keeping me here,” the conscript said. “You’re trying to get me killed.”

“Stay or go,” Shane said. “I don’t care what you do as long as you shut up while you do it.”

Another conscript laughed.

“What’s so funny, Cody?” Shane asked.

“You, Shane. All of a sudden you’re a tough guy. You’ve been in the mines for months. Hardly said a word to any of us. Now you’re best buds with the new guy. Makes me think you think you’re too good for us. Is that it, Shane? You too good for all of us?’

“Not all of you, Cody. Just you.”

A few of the conscripts snickered.

“I’m going to be really surprised if you make it back to the castle alive, Shane,” Cody said. “But I’ll be sure to tell Brae how brave you were while I console her.”

Shane was on him before anyone could react. He’d struck Cody three times in the face before Jerry could pull him off. Cody’s nose was bloodied but he was still smiling.

Jerry pushed Shane towards the door. “Take a walk.”

“You’re a lucky man, Cody,” Shane said and stepped outside.

“You’re making the wrong friends, new guy.” Cody spat a wad of blood on to the floor.

“Just keep it quiet in here.” Jerry turned and walked out the door after Shane.

The air was cold, still and impossibly dry. Taking it in hurt if it was drawn too sharply. Jerry took slow easy breaths to prevent the sting. He looked for Shane, but the man had apparently taken the advice and gone for a walk.

A soft and gentle whistle rose up from the bridge and a waving hand caught Jerry’s eye. He waved back and the conscript moved down the hill. Jerry crossed the street and made his way down the embankment to where the three men were stationed under the bridge.

There was no one there. The conscripts had disappeared.

The blow came from behind and caught him behind the ear. There was a bounce to it that sounded like wood. Jerry stumbled and fell into the fist of one of the other men. A third conscript came at him from above and Jerry tumbled out of the way. He got to his feet but found Cody behind him. The conscript grabbed him around the chest and held him tight as the others regrouped.

Jerry stomped at the ground trying to put a heel in the man’s foot, but that first strike had hit him hard and he could barely stand. If Cody hadn’t been holding him up, Jerry was sure he would have collapsed to the ground.

“Why are you guys being so gentle?” the conscript that had waved him over asked. “We don’t need him alive.” He held up a Japanese-style sword most likely made in China. The cross guard rattled as it moved and the material around the grip dangled from between the man’s fingers. “We just need his head.”

Cody wasn’t large, but years in the mine had turned his muscles to iron cables. The other conscript approached and grabbed Jerry by the hair. Together they brought him to his knees and stretched him out across the ground. He could feel the blade of the katana on the back of his neck. It was dull and nicked in a hundred places. He could smell the rust. He closed his eyes. It was going to hurt.

The conscript brought the sword back above his head and there was a sickening thud and a warm spray across Jerry’s neck. He opened his eyes, surprised to discover he wasn’t dead. Cody released him and Jerry did his best to roll away. He didn’t stop until he hit the river. The cold water snapped his focus back into place and he looked for his attackers.

The man with the sword was dead. His head collapsed from an aluminum baseball bat.

Shane held the bat in his hand and was swinging it at the man who had grabbed Jerry’s head. Cody was disappearing over the top of the hill.

The conscript put up his hands to block the baseball bat but it did little to stop the force of the swing. There was another wet thwack and the man went down hard. He wasn’t getting up.

Shane turned and found Jerry on the riverbank. He ran down the bank and stuck out a hand.

Jerry took it and pulled himself to his feet. They were still unsteady but he managed to find his balance. “Thanks again. That’s twice today.”

Shane smiled. “I’ve got you.”

Jerry sat down hard on the concrete beneath the bridge and tried to shake off the confusion while Shane retrieved the sword and scabbard.

He dropped the bat and asked, “So you want to tell me why they were trying to chop your head off?”

He couldn’t think. He only shrugged. “I guess they weren’t fans of my plan.”

“Seems a pretty extreme way to offer criticism,” Shane said.

Jerry nodded, but as his head cleared his mind filled with questions. Christopher had gotten to these men. But how? Dominic was the only one that had left the party when they passed through Durango. Had Christopher made it to the castle? Was Erica safe? Was there someone beside Christopher and the king that knew who they were?

There were too many possible answers and he didn’t like any of them. He had to get back to the castle. He looked up river hoping to see the princess’s boat. The sooner she was rescued, the sooner he could get back to Erica.

TWELVE

Night fell quickly over the valley town as the sun ducked away behind the western peaks. As the light faded, torchbearers appeared and walked the streets igniting braziers hung from the old streetlights. The brick buildings were that much warmer in the firelight as Erica and Chewy finished up their house-hunting stroll and she mused how the glow of these fires transformed the town into a scene from a Dickens’s tale.

House-hunting in the apocalypse wasn’t that much different than it had been before. Though one’s wish list had changed considerably. Crown molding fell lower on the list of priorities as an accessible sniper’s nest moved closer to the top. And who cared about granite countertops as long as it had room for a moat?

Location was still the most important thing. While school districts and airport access were no longer a part of the criteria, you wanted to make sure the home wasn’t located too close to unexploded ordinance or an eternal burning hellfire—a fairly common feature in any neighborhood located near a gas well.

Anything that glowed in the dark was best avoided, as were poisonous streams, man-eating flora, mutant populations and that place up north infested with aggressive squirrels.

Of course, the closing process was much different from before. Instead of securing a loan and signing a stack of papers one tree thick, the buyer simply moved in, sat down and said, “I’ll take it.” Putting up a “home sweet home” or “live laugh love” plaque was a purely ceremonial step and often skipped.

Here in the Kingdom of the Five Peaks, however, things were a little more traditional. Haggling would be involved and it was, without a doubt, a seller’s market. There were no listings. The most someone could do was knock on the door of a home they were interested in and hope the occupants were either interested in selling or dying from something that worked quickly.

With the reward Jerry had been promised, Erica doubted they would have trouble finding a place should they decide to stay. She smiled at how fast the town had grown on her. The quirky medieval bit would be easy enough to overlook if they were living in a warm home in a safe town, hidden from the world by their assumed names.

There was a squeal. Not one that arose her suspicions, but a delighted squeak. It was a child that had spotted Chewy and ran across the street to pet the dog. Children were always attracted to the mastiff and often rushed to pet her, but they were always followed by a panicked parent trying to protect their kid from a potential monster, or worse, the strangers that accompanied the dog.

“Puppy!” The shriek was followed by the pat of little feet in the snow.

Chewy knew the child was coming for her and eagerly met her halfway for a furious petting and scruffing of fur.

Erica smiled and walked into the street. She scanned the area looking for the frantic mother, but couldn’t find any sign of her. She turned around thinking maybe she was behind her. There was only the girl.

“Your dog is soooo cool,” the girl said and buried her face in Chewy’s.

“Her name is Hannibal,” Erica said and winced at how it sounded. “But you can call her Hannah.”

“Hannah. You’re a sweet dog.” The little girl laughed as Chewy licked her face.

“And what’s your name?” Erica asked. The mother would appear screaming any second now.

“Emma,” she said.

“Where’s your mother, Emma?”

“At home.” The little girl pointed to a building over her shoulder.

A woman stepped onto the porch of the building Emma had called home and looked around. She called for the girl, “Emma!”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Emma. The streetlights are lit. You know what that means.”

The girl rolled her eyes the way only a little girl could. “That it’s time to come in.” She stood and gave Chewy one last hug. “Good dog, Hannah.” Emma turned and ran home.

“It was nice meeting you, Emma,” Erica called.

The girl waved back. “Bye. I like your dog.”

In every other town she had seen, the day ended at dark. Good nights were wished, dead bolts were engaged, a chair was propped against the door and no one stepped outside until morning.

Before everything went to hell, the idea of speaking before a crowd was the number one fear in the world. Now, people would gladly address a crowd provided they didn’t have to do it at night. A fear of the dark was no longer just for children and those with vivid imaginations. It was for everyone. True horrors now lived in the dark. Things with teeth, claws and bad intentions haunted the shadows and moved under the cover of night. And though many still denied this fear, more and more people were “turning in early.”

Streetlights alone weren’t enough to keep the fears away. Many towns had them. There was something more at work in the kingdom. The walls, the knights, the people—everything worked together to put inhabitants at ease.

The little girl’s curfew stayed on Erica’s mind as she made her way to the address Brae had given her. She didn’t see any more children, but the streets were alive with people. None of which appeared in a hurry to find a locked door to hide behind.

There was a knight on every corner. Their appearance still made her chuckle but they greeted the citizens with warm smiles and friendly inquiries. The town crier shouted the hour at a respectable level as he pealed his bell softly through the streets.

Erica turned onto Brae’s street and the crowds disappeared. No one strolled here and even the crier made a U-turn at the intersection. Erica and Chewy followed the street down to a dirt road and found the address on the corner. A hotel sign hung from one bracket on the corner of the two-story building. It was an older building and had not been given the same love as the rest of the town.

She double-checked the address and stepped inside. Her nose wasn’t ready for the aromatic assault. Wasteland hooch had a burn that cleared sinuses whether you were drinking it or not, and the lobby of the old hotel was filled with the smell.

Chewy sneezed several times as they crossed the empty lobby and found the staircase. Brae’s place was on the second floor at the end of the hall. They passed a hallway full of thin doors that did little to muffle conversation, some yelling and a fair amount of what Erica identified as fake moaning.

She walked slower as she counted the numbers on the doors.

Brae’s door was at the end of the hall and Erica didn’t want to reach for the handle. She didn’t want to knock.

The mastiff must have sensed her apprehension and began to growl.

Erica wanted to turn and walk away. No, she wanted to run from the building. Before she could turn, the chain rattled on the other side of the door. Brae must have known she was coming. Erica sighed and forced a smile as the door opened.

“Well. Look who it is.” Tommy sweated cheap liquor and buttoned his shirt as he stepped into the hall. “’ad I known ewe were staying ’ere, I would ’ave waited.”

Erica put a hand on Chewy’s head. The beast was on full alert. “Brae was kind enough to let me stay here while my husband is on his quest.”

Tommy laughed, coughed a bit and laughed some more. “Ewe really think ’e’s coming back? I don’t think so, sweetheart. Ewe might as well get comfortable ’ere in the ’otel. But don’t ewe worry—Eye’m sure you’ll fit right in ’ere.”

He leaned in close.

Chewy pulled at her hand. It was all Erica could do to assure the dog she was safe. Was she safe?

The smell of his breath was a combination of things she’d rather not think about. He whispered. “The question is, will I fit in?” He smiled again.

Erica had seen her share of creepiness over the last few years. But nothing had made her skin crawl like this man. But she held her composure and whispered back, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh,” Tommy smiled. “I think you do.”

Erica shook her head. “I really don’t. Are you saying you don’t fit in?”

“What? That’s not …”

She put on her sad eyes. “Tommy, are you worried that people don’t like you?”

“Of course not,” Tommy said, losing his horrid accent. “People love me. They think I’m adorable.”

“Oh, that’s why you put on the simpleton act. Very smart.”

“I’m not a simpleton … no one’s acting around here! People like me for who I am.”

“So why are you wondering if you’ll fit in?”

Watching Tommy try to outthink the booze was almost amusing. The liquor had him outnumbered and more than a decent head start. “I’m not … It’s …” He gave up and growled at the girl.

Chewy growled louder and almost pulled Erica’s shoulder free of the socket.

Tommy fell back against the wall with his hands up by his chest. It took him a moment to find his anger again. “You won’t always have that monster with you. The king is a man of his word, but when your boy fails to deliver the princess, all bets will be off and I’ll be back.”

Erica held Chewy back as Tommy stumbled down the hallway and into the staircase. As soon as he was out of sight, the dog’s hackles settled and the growling stopped.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Brae was wrapped in a sheet and sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the door.

“Really?” Erica asked.

Brae didn’t turn. “You’re early.”

“Sir Thomas the idiot?”

“Don’t judge me,” Brae said. “You have no idea.”

“If you’re going to hook up with a knight, you should at least find one that would win an argument with his own shadow.”

Brae snapped, “It’s not like that.”

“That’s what it looks like to me. What else could it …oh God, you’re a whore.”

Brae burst into tears. Chewy ran to the bed and set her head in the sobbing girl’s lap. Brae jumped at first but soon rested her hand on the large furry head and began to scratch behind her ears.

“I mean, they’re making you be a whore. Aren’t they?”

After a moment of pet therapy, Brae began to explain. “Shane works the mines. I work the beds. That’s the only reason we get to stay. Otherwise, they’d throw us back out into the wild. I can’t live out there, Jen.”

Erica nodded to remind herself that she was also Jen. She hadn’t practiced nicknames.

Brae continued. “I can’t be out there. I guess I’m a city girl. I almost died when we had to leave our home back east.” She stiffened up. “So I do what I have to. I’m a survivor. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want Jerry to know. I was hoping that the boys would be back with the princess and we’d all be citizens and all of this would be in the past.”

Chewy whimpered and Brae turned to look Erica in the eye. “But who am I fooling? Even if I was a citizen, I couldn’t stay here. They’d never treat me as anything but a whore. You’ve seen it. I know you have. You’ve seen how the women look at me. They look at me as if I’d slept with their husbands.” Brae hung her head. “And who can blame them. I probably have.”

The tears began to pour as she talked about her husband. She stammered and gasped. What she said barely escaped as words. “And Shane, how could he stay with me? Even now, how can he be with me? It makes no sense.”

“Because he loves you. Men in love act stupid all the time. You know that.”

“He’s such a good man. I don’t deserve him.”

“You’re very lucky.”

Brae nodded. “And you, too. Jerry was always the nicest guy.”

Erica picked up a housecoat and draped it over Brae’s shoulders. “Look. Shane and Mike,” she stressed Mike, “will be back. They’ll have rescued the stupid princess and then we’ll all leave together.”

“But we owe … we can’t just leave without paying back what we owe.”

Erica shook her head. “It won’t be a problem. We’ll have enough to get Shane out of the mines, you out of bed and send you both back east.”

“You’d do that? For us? But you barely know us.”

“Any friend of Mike’s, right?” Erica winked.

Brae smiled but it faded fast. “What if Tommy’s right? What if they’re not coming back?”

“You’d be surprised at what Mike can do.”

A knock at the door sent Brae hunting for her clothes. She wiped the tears and tried to will away the stammering. “That will be the girls.”

A growl came from the other side of the door—a woman’s voice trying to impersonate a man impersonating a Viking, “FEAST!”

“Let them in,” Brae said as she disappeared into the bathroom. “I’ll be out when I can stop these stupid tears.”

Erica crossed the hotel room and opened the door. The five women flooded in the room as if they had all been leaning on the door. The smell of alcohol followed them like a lost puppy and filled the small room.

“FEAST!” Sandra said again. “Hey, why aren’t you guys ready?”

“Just be a minute,” Brae shouted from behind the bathroom door.

“She’ll just be a minute,” Erica echoed.

The girls spread out around the room. A couple flopped on the bed while exclaiming “Wheee” on the way down. One of them tried to pull Erica with her but was too drunk to grab her wrist and fall at the same time. She landed with a thwump. “You’re going to love tonight, Jennifer. When was the last time you had a girls’ night out?”

“It’s been a long time,” Erica answered.

“Well, this is going to be a good one. I know this guy at the Gallopin’ Stallion. He’s going to hook us all up tonight.”

The bathroom door opened and Brae stepped out in a sleek evening dress. She had managed to wipe the tears away, but her cheeks were still puffy. “Ready to go.”

“What’s wrong, Brae?” one of the girls asked. “Have you been crying?”

“No, it’s nothing,” she said.

“You can’t lie to me,” Sandra said. “I know that look. It’s a look of emotional distress mixed with a lack of fulfillment that only a man with little stamina and less junk can give you. Tommy was here again, wasn’t he? I can tell by how disappointed you look.”

Brae’s mouth dropped open. “You can really tell that by how I look?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I saw him leaving.”

“Two-Minute Tommy?” one of the girls on the bed said. “I’m sorry, Brae.”

The one lying beside her added, “He doesn’t treat you right.”

Sandra laughed. “He doesn’t treat anyone right. He grabbed my ass when I passed him in the hallway.”

“That loser.”

“It’s okay. I grabbed his wallet.” Sandra held up a leather pouch and shook it so it jingled. “Looks like tonight is on Tiny Tommy.”

The girls laughed. Brae laughed and the sadness faded from her eyes.

THIRTEEN

Aside from the nightmare-inducing screams of the eternally tormented filling the brittle air of the dark streets of Aztec, New Mexico, the town was silent.

The cannibalistic creatures had found the conscript that got away. Cody’s screams were different than theirs. They were more human and more horrible. And while they shrieked and wailed, he only screamed in pain and horror as they ate him alive.

The remainder of the group sat by the river listening to the pain of every howl. They could almost pick out which limb was being chewed by the sounds Cody made.

There was one final scream of pain and the wails ended. Silence returned to the desert town.

One conscript offered a quick eulogy. “Poor bastards.”

While Jerry recovered, Shane had sent the other bodies and informed the group that all three of the conscripts had deserted the group. It had been Shane’s plan. He felt it best that the rest of the group didn’t know about the attack so he added, “Dumb bastards. That’s what they get for running off. We stick together and we’ll get out of this alive. Wander off and we’re Gravy Train.”

A young conscript named Joshua, not even twenty, asked, “What’s Gravy Train?”

Shane shook his head. “I hate you kids.”

There was a solemn silence as each man pictured themselves in the jaws of the mutants. A conscript named Patrick finally spoke. “What a terrible way to go.”

“The worst,” another agreed.

“I’ve heard of worse,” Joshua argued.

“You’ve heard of a worse death than being eaten alive?” Patrick asked. “Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah,” he defended himself. “How about Slow Worms? Being eaten alive—but for weeks. At least this is over in a matter of minutes.”

“But they’re slow worms,” Patrick said.

“So?”

“They’re even slower than normal worms. So if you get caught by slow worms you kind of deserve a horrible death. Now if you get caught in a Hellburst, no one could say you were too slow. Those things come out of nowhere.”

A grey-haired conscript named Ken let out a laugh. “Those aren’t real, you moron.”

“Of course they are!” Patrick said. “You’re standing there one second all fine and then the ground opens up and the fires of hell consume you in a split second of intense pain and probably a lot of blistering.”

“No,” Ken said. “Your dumb ass just stepped on a land mine.”

“They’re not land mines,” Patrick said, but clearly wasn’t sure.

“Of course it is.”

“It’s a geyser.” Jerry spoke quietly in hopes it would inspire the others to keep their voices down. They were getting too loud. “Hellbursts are geysers that were brought close to the surface during the bombing. Sometimes it only takes the weight of a small dog to break through. The steam will kill you before you fall through the hole.”

Patrick and Ken both turned silent. Joshua spoke up. “Sounds like you’ve been around, new guy.”

Jerry shrugged.

“Have you ever seen Heaven’s Vengeance?” the young conscript asked.

“It’s a lightning storm. Just without the rain,” Jerry said. “They were around before, but less of us saw them because we didn’t live in the desert. There was a lot less desert back then.”

“Have you ever seen a Giant?” The conscript, Colin, had stayed out of the arguments, seemingly afraid to say anything. “I saw one once. But no one believes me.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot, Colin.”

“And you’re an ass, Ken!”

They were getting louder again so Jerry spoke low. “I’ve seen them. Big, hairy mutants. Whatever made them grow also made them assholes. But if you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. For the most part.”

“Like the wolf men of the northwest. I heard they were mutated men as well.”

“Close,” Jerry said. “They were hit by a weapon they called Moreau—meant to turn animals into monsters. They were plain old wolves. And you’re definitely more afraid of them than they are of you.”

“What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve seen?” Joshua asked.

“Why do you want to play that game, Josh?” Shane asked.

“I want to know. I want to know that working in the mines is as bad as it gets.”

Jerry shook his head. “The world is full of terrible things. Giants, wolf men, mutant plants. Rumors can kill a person as easily as any creature or Hellburst. I’ve seen many die pursuing a paradise that doesn’t exist. I’ve seen others die waiting for the government to come back like they promised. We’re our own fatal flaw. Even after all that happened, we still believe in our own humanity. But that’s where the truest evil dwells. That’s why so many are willing to live under the rule of tyrants. Despite every reason they give, we want to believe they have our best interests at heart.

“This world is ruled by warlords, barons, presidents and kings. But they’re all the same. Striking at others in the name of their own. The most horrific things I’ve seen have been performed in the name of good. And, even when good men stand against evil, the result is the same—people die. Some good. Some bad. But either way, they are just as dead and then there’s one less person alive to make a difference.”

Jerry looked at Joshua. “Nothing’s changed. You want to know what the most dangerous creature is? Man is the most dangerous thing out there. We’ll be our own downfall over and over again for as long as we are willing to look the other way when a tyrant acts. And we’ll do it willingly so long as it’s our tyrant.”

The room was quiet. The wails had stopped. The men looked at one another with nothing to say.

Jerry smiled. “I’m just kidding. It’s bears.”

The men chuckled more from relief than humor. Jerry wasn’t trying to make them laugh, he was trying to shut them up until the princess arrived. He put a finger to his lips and walked to the edge of the river. A whitewater raft—bright yellow and hardly subtle—approached from upstream.

The Animas ran shallow beneath the bridge and it had only taken one red Volvo to pinch the river in their favor and narrow the passageway beneath the bridge. The conscripts lay in wait behind rusted hulks on either side of the Animas clutching their rusted weaponry with fierce grips. They expected an army. Their enemies had penetrated the kingdom’s walls and abducted one of its most guarded citizens. Bare minimum, they would be facing an elite group of fighters and the group prepared themselves for a savage battle.

There were two of them. Even Jerry was surprised to see the boat so empty. It floated up to the shoreline with only a man and a princess inside.

The conscripts rushed the boat from all sides. Patrick tackled the man from the boat before he could react. The two splashed into the river and came up gasping for breath almost instantly, gasping and trying to climb out of the freezing water.

Jerry and Shane pulled the woman ashore and put themselves between her and her abductor as they watched Patrick and the kidnapper take shiver-driven high steps to escape the cold river. The kidnapper got there first and put a foot in Patrick’s chest. He kicked the conscript back into the water.

Ken rushed in to attack the kidnapper. A wet hand struck him across the face and knocked him to the ground as the kidnapper jumped to his feet.

Colin stepped in to fight and backed away a moment later gripping his stomach. The conscript fell to the ground. His gasps turned to cries as he discovered the blood flowing from his gut.

The kidnapper held a bloody knife in his hand and turned towards the girl.

Ken scrambled back as the kidnapper turned on him with the knife.

Josh struck from behind. The young conscript brought the kidnapper to the ground and began punching the man in the back of the head.

The girl screamed, not in horror but fear. She darted between the two men and rushed to the fallen kidnapper.

Josh rolled the man over, drew his own blade and raised the knife above his head to strike.

The princess kicked Josh in the face and sent him rolling toward the water. She stood between the conscripts and the man on the ground as he got to his feet.

Joshua sprang back on to the shore. He still had the knife in his hand.

The princess leapt between her kidnapper and the boy with a short rapier in hand. She whipped the blade through the air. It whistled.

Joshua tried to step beside her to get the man but she mirrored his every move. “Move, lady!”

Jerry stepped in between the princess and the conscript. “Stop it, Josh.”

“What the hell are you doing?” the young conscript asked.

“Look at her,” Jerry said.

Anna, princess of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks, wore perfectly the look of a pissed off princess. Golden hair raged across her face. Anger had forced a sweat in the cold night and the beads ran over skin that had never known the merciless sun of the wasteland. With her brow furrowed and her teeth bared, she all but growled, daring any man to move against her or the man behind her.

Jerry pulled the knife from Joshua’s hand. “She’s not being kidnapped. She’s being rescued.”

The men on the shore weren’t sure how to react. No one moved in. Most lowered their weapons. Patrick splashed from the river and froze at the edge of the bank shivering. Colin moaned about the stab wound in his stomach.

“Who cares?” Patrick asked. “I don’t care what she’s doing here. I wasn’t sent here to solve a mystery. I was told to bring back a princess. Period.”

She did not have the timid voice of a fairy book princess. It was fierce. “I’m never going back.”

“Sure you are, princess,” Patrick said, before taking one too many steps towards her.

The slash caught him across the face and he stumbled back to the shoreline.

Pulling his hand from his cheek revealed a four-inch trail of blood. Rage flashed across the conscript’s face, but he hesitated to make another move. He stood there shivering and bleeding.

The kidnapper was a young man no older than the princess herself. He got to his feet wielding a second sword and stood beside the princess.

Princess Anna continued. “I’m not going back to that bastard. I won’t spend another day with him. Not another moment. I’m going home or I’m going to hell, but I’m not going back.”

Shane lowered the sword. “I think she means it, guys.”

“Have it your way, Princess,” Patrick said. “But first you’re going back to the prince.” He rushed towards the girl.

Jerry stepped in and kicked him in the chest. This sent him back into the river. “Let’s think this through.”

Gasping again, Patrick stood and sloshed his way toward the shore.

“What’s there to think through?” Shane asked. “She has to go back.”

“Why?” Jerry asked.

“So we can get our citizenship,” Joshua said. “That’s why.”

“You want citizenship to a place where even the princess wants to escape?”

“I want to be a knight,” he said. “I don’t care how she feels about it.”

Patrick stumbled on the shore once again. Between gulps of breath, he cursed, “I don’t give a damn what she thinks of the place. I’m not going back into the mines!” He raised his knife and screamed.

Screams answered back. They came from all around: the road above, upriver and down. The storm sewers echoed with wails as the Aztecs made themselves known. There was a splash as several of the creatures dropped into the water from the bridge above. One wailed as it landed on Patrick and bit into his neck.

The conscript turned pale as he was dragged back into the frigid water one final time.

More splashes burst from the river as the beasts continued dropping into the water. Their wails filled the air and turned it thick with horror. Jerry could barely hear himself yell over their screams. “Run!”

He grabbed the princess by the hand and shooed her towards the road.

A hand reached from the water and seized the kidnapper by the ankle. The young man was pulled from his feet and hit the ground with his chin. He dropped the sword but managed to hold on to his consciousness.

The creature’s face, pale like dead flesh, erupted from the river in a splash of froth and teeth. Water rushed from its mouth as its wail built from a ravenous stomach and escaped its mouth.

The young man reached for his sword but the Aztec had pulled him too far.

Jerry shoved the princess up the embankment and dropped back into the riverbed. He stumbled across the loose rock until he reached the river’s edge and brought the hatchet down on the creature’s wrist.

That horrid wail grew louder as the beast brought back a stump and stared at it with lifeless eyes.

It was obvious that the creature was no less dangerous with one hand. Jerry grabbed the young kidnapper by the collar and pulled him to his feet as another Aztec emerged from the river.

“Go!” He pushed the kid towards the princess. “Get her out of here.”

The creature lunged at him from the river. There was no sense behind its attack. There was no method. Its only goal was to get its teeth as close to its victim as possible.

Jerry slashed with the machete and cut deep, but the wail didn’t change. He wondered if the beast even felt the wound across its abdomen. He brought the blade back down and hacked deep into his neck.

Warm crimson blood spurted from the wound as Jerry dislodged the blade with a kick that sent the creature falling back into the water. He turned to run and saw for the first time the carnage that was unfolding. The mutants were everywhere. Their wails filled the air like the scream of a jet engine as they howled in unison. The sound kicked his stomach into a knot. The sight made him sick.

The conscripts weren’t only losing, they were being eaten alive. Several had set upon Colin. Only his legs were visible. They kicked in a futile attempt to get free.

Several more had made their way to the middle of the river, as it turned red with Patrick’s blood.

Shane and Joshua had fought their way back to the road. Several of the beasts lay dead at their feet.

Ken screamed and Jerry turned in time to see him pulled to the ground by a trio of Aztecs. He tried to crawl away from his fate. He was so desperate to escape the teeth and claws of the beasts that he left parts of himself behind. He broke free. Covered in his own blood, he crawled from the dog pile and tried to run. He didn’t make it far. They dragged him back by his intestine.

Two rushed at Jerry. They were dressed in soiled rags. Some were so shredded they wore essentially nothing. Their faces were bags of skin and they appeared all but dead. Driven by anger, it didn’t matter that most had little meat on their bones.

Jerry had cleaved through the head of one before he saw it to be a woman. They moved too fast, too erratically, that he could not even distinguish a face until it chomped at him. Whatever had turned them had been indiscriminate. The beasts were men and women, old and young, and they were all monsters.

The woman fell dead at his feet as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He spun and raised the blade.

“Don’t hit me, idiot.” Shane was standing at the foot of the retaining wall and tugged Jerry towards it. “C’mon!”

The pair climbed the short concrete barrier and dashed into the street.

The two men caught up with Joshua, the princess and her kidnapper. They were no longer fighting amongst themselves. They looked from one another and back to the beasts searching for an answer.

“Back to the bus,” Jerry shouted as he pointed north of town.

“I’m not going back!” the princess screamed and put her sword at Jerry’s throat.

Jerry knocked it aside with the hatchet and ripped the blade from her hand. “No one’s going anywhere if we don’t get somewhere safe. Right now the bus and the arms of your loving prince are our best bet.” He handed the sword back to her. “We’ll figure things out from there.”

The weapon was back in her hand before the young man could react. He looked at her as she gave a sad and silent nod.

“It will be okay,” Jerry said.

“The hell it will.” Joshua raised his blade as the Aztecs approached.

Jerry kept an eye on the retaining wall. The creatures that had attacked at the river seemed to be satisfied with their carrion below, but more were still emerging from the buildings and alleyways of the New Mexican town.

The group of five ran for the bus. It wasn’t close, but it was a chance.

More and more creatures appeared before them. Their shrieks drew more numbers to their group and soon a wall of cannibals had formed in front of them.

“It’s no good,” Shane said as he slowed. “There’s too many.”

Jerry scanned the street and turned to his right. “In here.”

They followed as he ran into a fast food restaurant and stepped through the shattered window that had once been the door.

“There aren’t any walls, Mike!” Shane argued as he followed.

Jerry slid over the front counter and moved through the kitchen. He soon found what he was looking for and called to the others. He directed them up a ladder that led to a panel in the roof. “Up here!”

Shane went first and bashed the hatch open.

Jerry watched the Aztecs crash through what was left of the plate glass window and fill the dining room. The counter slowed them for only a moment.

Shane called down as the last of the group made the roof and Jerry scurried up the ladder two rungs at a time.

He rolled on to the roof as Josh and the kidnapper heaved an AC unit across the roof and dropped it on the access hatch. There was no other way up to the roof. They were trapped. But they were safe. Jerry sat to catch his breath.

Shane sat next to him. “Great. I’m trapped in a Burger King with a princess and surrounded by man-eating mutants.”

“It could be worse,” Jerry said.

“I don’t know,” Shane said. “I fucking hate Burger King.”

FOURTEEN

This particular Burger King had never known such a crowd. Built long after the Beanie Baby and Pokémon fads had faded, it had never once experienced a rush. Now that it was serving human, it drew quite the crowd.

The wails had kept up all night long and the refugees on the roof were feeling the lack of sleep. If the screams had fallen into any kind of rhythm, sleep would have been possible, but their shrieks were so distinctly horrible that they did not even blend in to the noise of a crowd.

Jerry looked over the edge of the roof at the rabble below. If he looked hard enough he could see the men and women the beasts had been. Their clothes barely held at the seams and were so soiled with dirt and age that every garment, no matter its original color, had turned to the same shade of filth.

The young man that had stolen the princess was named Aaron. He had not left the girl’s side since they made the roof. The group had done little to try and separate them. In fact, the group had done little at all but sit and listen to the wailing.

For a lack of anything else to do, Shane paced the roof. He gestured to the young couple. “So, what are we going to do about these two?”

“Just try it, asshole.” Aaron didn’t bother standing up to deliver his threat but he tapped the sword across his lap.

Shane laughed. “I’m pretty sure I can handle you, pretty boy.”

Jerry gave up on finding sleep. “Nobody is handling anybody. Our best bet is still to head back to the bus.”

The princess shook her head. “I’m not going back.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” Jerry said. “But it’s the safest place.”

“You take her back to that bastard and she’s as good as dead,” Aaron said. “You might as well just kill her now.”

“He sent us to rescue her, smart guy,” Joshua said. “Why would he want her dead?”

“Oh, please,” Anna said. “You’re not a rescue party. You’re a PR stunt. Nothing more. That prick doesn’t want me back. He wants me dead. He needs me dead.”

Jerry looked at the princess. “The king told me that your death would start a war.”

“He’s right,” she said. “My father would kill him.”

“Your father?” Shane asked.

She stood and stretched out her arms before twirling once over the town. “He’s the king on this side of all the crazy. His royal majesty, the great and honorable Rodney.”

“I didn’t get the feeling that Elias wanted a war,” Jerry said.

“Rodney?” Joshua muttered.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Aaron said. “He’d lose.”

“What do you know?” Josh jumped to his feet. “We have the bravest knights in the world.”

“Our knights have guns, you dumb shit,” Aaron said.

Anna explained. “My father is a little less strict about historically accurate weapons. Why do you think you were sent to bring me back? If my dad finds out how they treat me …”

“War again,” Shane said. “I get it. So why would the prince want you dead?”

The princess curled her lip and tucked her chin. It was a look every man knew. Shane had asked a question whose answer should be obvious. “I’ll give you a minute to think about it. It should be fairly obvious, if you don’t pass out from exhaustion first.”

Shane pointed back at her. “I don’t like you.”

“The prince wants the war,” Jerry said.

“That’s what you’re getting from this?” Shane asked. “Why would he want a war he can’t win?”

“Because the prince has the guns. His Dog had no problem firing on the men on the train. The prince is probably sitting on a stockpile, just waiting to overthrow the king and take over with the promise of winning the coming war.”

“Overthrow the king?” Young Josh wasn’t buying it.

“That makes sense,” Shane said.

Josh threw up his hands. “Overthrow his own father?”

The princess laughed. “Elias, or, aka Greg, isn’t anyone’s father. Robert was just a kid playing the prince at the fair. They figured it just made sense for him to keep playing the same role.”

“I don’t care who he is,” Josh stomped over to the girl. “We were sent on a quest to bring you back and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’m not going back.” The princess leapt to her feet and held up her sword. Aaron stood beside her.

“Both of you stop.” Shane stepped between the two and pointed to the edge of the roof. “Did you forget about them? We have to get to the bus. What other choice do we have?”

Aaron didn’t move. “We’re going to Farmington. Her father is there and will keep her safe. That’s all I care about.”

“You want us to travel the rest of the way through Aztec?” Shane asked.

“We’ll stay off the highway,” the princess said. “We can make it.”

“We?” Shane shouted. “You’re not going anywhere, except back to Silverton.”

Aaron lifted his sword. “Try it.”

Shane bent down to grab the katana he had set against the wall. Jerry grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the ground. “Skip it. You’re both tough, all right. But we’re going to help them get to Farmington.”

Shane jerked away. “You’re not buying this shit, are you?”

Jerry nodded. “We’re going to help them.”

“Why?” Shane threw up his arms. “Because it’s the right thing to do? It’s chivalrous? You’re starting to sound like those idiots back in the castle.”

Jerry said nothing.

“Doing the right thing died out with the rest of humanity,” Shane yelled. The group of Aztecs wailed in response. Shane rushed to the edge of the roof and screamed back at them.

Jerry didn’t raise his voice. “We take her back, she dies. A war starts. More people die. Maybe me. Maybe you. Maybe Brae. If we help them, we avoid all that.”

“And where does that leave us?” Josh asked. “They’ll kill us for helping her get away.”

“How will they know?” Jerry asked. “They’re sitting back in the bus. We’ll tell them we couldn’t find them.”

“Then it’s back to the mines for me. You’ll join me, and Brae will keep …” Shane’s voice trailed off.

Joshua began to laugh.

“What is it?” Jerry asked.

“Nothing.” Shane cast a threatening look at the kid before finishing. “It’s just not what I want.”

“We can figure all that out when we get back. And, you may not believe me, but my fate will be much worse than yours.”

“Then why?” Shane asked.

Jerry smiled. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Shane huffed.

“Turn back if you want,” Jerry said. “But I’m going to help them.”

“You’re right.” Shane sighed and nodded. “You’re right. And, like I told your wife, I’ve got you. So I’ll help your dumb ass do this.”

Jerry stood and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Shane, I promise you I will do everything possible to keep everyone out of the mines. Mostly because I don’t want to end up there myself.”

Shane laughed. “Look at you … a tough guy. How many times have I had to save your life already?”

Jerry smiled and shrugged. “I’ll make sure it was worth it.”

“Forget that. How are we going to get off the roof?” Shane asked.

The pair stood and looked at the frenzied mob that had gathered around the Burger King.

Jerry shrugged. “We’re going to need a distraction.”

“To hell with both of you!” Josh screamed and raised an axe above his head. “You’re traitors to the crown! I’ll kill both you myself.” The conscript charged at Jerry screaming an inhuman shriek that blended with those from below. The crowd below echoed his bloodlust.

Before Jerry could move, Shane shoved him out of the way and caught the ax as it dropped toward his head. He spun the young conscript around and pushed him back.

Joshua stumbled and crashed into the knee-high ledge that ran the perimeter of the roof. He teetered only long enough for his expression to show that he realized full well what was about to happen.

The mob of mutants didn’t let him hit the ground. A broken neck or cracked skull would have been a blessing. They caught him mid-fall and began their feast as the young man screamed for mercy that no one was willing deliver.

The princess screamed and ran to the far side of the building with Aaron close behind her.

Shane and Jerry watched as Josh disappeared in a flurry of pale hands and bared teeth.

“There,” Shane said. “A distraction. It was nice of him to volunteer, don’t you think?”

“Hey,” Aaron called from across the roof. “They’re leaving.”

The two men joined the couple on the far side of the Burger King and watched as the Aztecs moved away from the wall where they had faithfully screamed all night long. They moved as one towards Josh’s fading screams.

“Go.” Jerry pointed to a dumpster below and threw a leg over the edge.

Aaron grabbed him by the shirt and held him back. “You’re nuts.”

“The group by the river is still down there.” Jerry pointed to the bridge. “One may be enough to keep them occupied.”

“I’m not confident in maybe,” the young man said.

Jerry pulled his shirt free and dropped onto the dumpster lid. There was arguing between the two men on the roof but he could not make out the words. The princess said something and the two men quickly dropped to the dumpster. They helped the girl down and hopped to the ground.

Jerry put a finger to his lips and ducked into the next building.

It was doubtful the town of Aztec had ranked high on any prewar target list. It hadn’t taken any direct hits and the buildings remained mostly intact. But, as they moved behind and through the structures, it was obvious that the town had not escaped the panic and looting.

Store shelves were empty. Windows were smashed in. Almost every store had a burnt trashcan, the skeleton key of the apocalypse, near the shattered remains of the front door.

They moved quietly, careful to avoid stepping on the glass that littered the floors. They ducked behind counters or shelves whenever they heard a wail approaching. They were few and far between, and the creature responsible passed quickly on its way to the feast of Joshua the conscript. The boy was a hero after all.

“This shouldn’t be this easy,” Shane said.

“You want to go back and try again?” Aaron asked.

“Shut up, you little shit.”

The princess shushed them both and stayed closed behind Jerry as he navigated the streets, parking lots and buildings of the New Mexican town. The farther they went, the safer they felt. Aztec sightings dwindled to nothing as they reached the edge of town.

“That kid must have been delicious,” Shane mused. “I haven’t seen a single mutant.”

“We’re not there yet,” Aaron said. “We’ve got to get back to the river.”

“We have people meeting us downriver just south of town,” Anna added. “They can take us the rest of the way. Then my father can help us.”

Shane shook his head but followed as Jerry led the group from the highway back towards the Animas. They moved quicker as wails began to grow in the distance. There was obviously not enough conscript to go around. He wondered if the mutants could remember. Did their minds work well enough to recall seeing more food running about their town? Mutants came in varying degrees of stupid. These were so animalistic that he doubted they could remember much of anything.

A bottling plant was the last facility at the edge of town before the river. The parking lot was massive and the open space made Jerry nervous. They had gotten lucky so far and this would be the perfect setting for it to run out. If the creatures came now, there would be nowhere to hide. He ran as lightly as possible and found what cover he could, ducking behind the delivery trucks and cars that had been left behind.

Asphalt turned to dirt and then the dirt turned to shrubs as they approached the riverbank. They had made it through town.

Shane was the first to the top of the bank. He waved the group over. Aaron ran to join him. Jerry was about to move when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned.

For the first time since they had pulled her from the boat, the princess’s eyes were soft and kind. They had lost their murderous edge. She spoke softly. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

Jerry smiled. He took a deep bow with an outspread arm. “After you, m’lady.”

Anna returned the smile, curtsied and ran to the river’s edge.

The gunshot dropped her before she topped the bank.

Aaron screamed and rushed to her side. He took her into his arms and held her, but there was no response. The bullet had passed through her chest and out her back. Tears filled his eyes as her death became real.

Jerry ran to the river and looked for the shooter.

Across the river, the man in black stood and dusted the desert from his leathers. He said nothing, but gave Jerry a small wave and a smile as he slung the sniper rifle over his back.

The water was cold but Jerry rushed through the light current and up the other bank. The sand was loose and difficult to climb. He took handfuls of dirt and clawed his way to the top.

An engine roared to life and Jerry found nothing but a cloud of dust waiting for him. The jeep turned back on the road through Aztec and the Dog laid on the horn as he passed through the town.

Jerry rushed back across the river and found Aaron still holding the girl in his arms. He screamed through tears. “Who was it? Who did this?”

Jerry hung his head. “It was the prince’s man.” He looked at Shane. “The prince did this.”

Aaron sobbed. His tears turned to rage. He stared at Shane. “Do you believe me now, asshole?”

Shane shrunk back. “Well, yeah. Now it’s pretty obvious.”

FIFTEEN

Erica awoke in her clothes and slowly opened each eye bit by bit in an attempt to outfox the sun that was trying to kick in the window.

The night was a blur. There were drinks. There was laughing. There was a … bard? That couldn’t be right. But she definitely remembered someone telling stories with a lute—tales of knights and kings and damsels. Oh, there were so many damsels.

These fantastic stories of triumph over ogres and giants and intelligent beasts blended together in Erica’s head with the more unreal confessions of the women that had taken her out to the tavern.

Each had their own sordid tale of survival that had led them to the beds of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks. They had done what they had to in order to survive the wasteland and they were still doing what they must to get by. There was no shame among the friends, only understanding. They weren’t proud of their place in the kingdom, but they were safe from the horrors of the outside world.

Like so many, they had found themselves alone after the world fell apart. Erica and Brae seemed to be the only exception. They had each found someone in the aftermath that was more than a companion. They had both found a love that they would cherish until the end of the world again.

Brae gushed for hours about Shane: how wonderful he was, how caring, how understanding and how strong. His band toured the small villages and communities back east playing for food and supplies. They had rocked her town of Hope’s Landing and she had fallen madly in love.

She would never leave him, she said. Even when they were forced out of Knoxville, she refused to leave his side. And he would never leave her. Even with what she had been forced to become.

From there the evening became mostly tears of regret and homesickness until the other girls ordered more drinks. They were there for her. They would always be there for her because, “Girls had to stick together.” There would be a hundred losers like “Sir Tom Thumb,” but they would always have each other.

By the end of the evening, Brae felt better and Erica couldn’t feel a thing. That changed in the morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she drank so much. She rolled forward and felt everything rush to her forehead. She groaned from the pain.

“Brae?”

There was no answer. And there was nowhere the girl could be. The apartment was a single room and a bath, and from her place on the bed she could see the bathroom was empty. That was, unless Brae was sleeping in the tub. Erica took a deep breath and rolled out of bed.

They were heavy steps, but they got her to the small en suite where she found a note on the bathroom mirror from her new “bestest ever friend.”

Jen,

I can’t thank you enough for last night. No one has ever listened to me like that. You are a true friend. To say thank you, I let you sleep in. Hannibal needed to go out so I took her for a long walk. Enjoy the silence.

Love your bestest ever friend, Brae

Erica looked at her watch. It was half past ten. She couldn’t remember the last time she got to sleep in and her head hurt so much that even remembering caused her pain. She looked back at the bed covered with a pile of blankets. They were inviting her back into their warm embrace and she smiled. She could sleep in. She wasn’t going to waste it. Jerry would most likely return today. She could tell him what she had learned and they could be on their way. The girls were nice and it was good to have girlfriends again, but she wanted to leave this bizarre place right after she got some more sleep.

She rolled into the blankets and rocked back and forth until all the openings were sealed against the cool air of the apartment. Closing her eyes, she did her best to picture nothing and it was wonderful. She wanted to enjoy the silence of the room and her own thoughts.

The pounding on the door ruined everything. She grumbled as she found her way out of the blankets again. Ten thirty was technically sleeping in, but a few hours more would have been perfect. The pounding continued. It had to be Brae. Erica opened the door.

Sir Thomas of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks looked so pissed that it actually covered up the stupid.

The man made her sick. The stories about him had been prolific the night before. She squinted against the headache. “Brae’s not here.”

“I’ll wait.” Tommy pushed her aside and stepped into the room and shut the door with a snap.

It sounded like a gunshot in Erica’s head and she placed her face in her hand.

“Late night.”

“Yeah, it was. We …”

“I wasn’t asking. I was saying you had a late night. And, from what I hear, it was all on me.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Sure you do. You and your new friends were living it up. I heard all about it. There was drinking and laughing. So much laughing. And I seemed to be the star of all the jokes. What was it the girls called me? Two-Minute Tommy. That was it.”

Erica didn’t say anything.

“That was a funny one,” Tommy said as he strolled around the apartment examining Brae and Shane’s few possessions. “Tiny Tommy. Another of my favorites.”

Erica looked around the apartment in search of options. There was the door and a window. That was it.

“One girl called me Tommy Salami. I’m not sure what she’s getting at there.”

Erica was in too much pain to be frightened. “She said you smelled like salami.”

“Is that so? Do you believe that?”

“It was probably more the rhyme that made her say it.”

“Hmmm, I see. She likes rhymes. Like a little kid. I guess that’s where Sweaty Palm Tom came from as well.”

“No, she said your palms were really sweaty. Like scary sweaty.”

Tommy turned and glared at her.

“She said she thought it might be a condition.”

Tommy raised his voice. “People sweat during sex. They get excited. They sweat. It’s completely normal!”

Erica shrugged. “Okay.”

“It’s not okay. You girls called me a lot of names!” He shouted them out. “Two-pump Tommy. Tommy Cries for Mommy. Half-man. Stumpy Joe.”

Erica raised a finger. “In her defense, she was calling someone else Stumpy Joe.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she said you were smaller than Stumpy Joe.”

Tommy shot her a sarcastic half smile and continued. “Sir Shrinks-a-Lot. Sir Gal or Lad. Sir Cialis. Blue Pill McGill.”

Erica shook her head. “Yeah, I didn’t really get that one.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “My last name is McGill.”

“Ah. It makes sense now.”

“Yeah, that one was pretty clever.” Tommy smiled. “Tom Thumb. I thought was a good one, too.”

“It means your dick is the size of a thumb, Tommy.”

The smile faded and the anger returned. “It’s Sir Thomas. Not Tommy, Sir Thomas. If you’re going to stay here, you’d better get with the program, girl. You will treat me and the other knights with respect befitting our station.”

His voice hurt her head. “I’m not sure we’ll be staying.”

A different smile appeared on his face. There was no kindness in it. “Oh, so you haven’t heard the great news then?”

“What are you talking about, To … Sir Thomas?”

“You’re a widow.” The evil grin broadened and Tommy raised his voice knowing that it would hurt her head. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

His words moved slowly through the hangover fog and she didn’t really process them. “What are you talking about?”

“The call came in just a little while ago. Your man didn’t rescue the princess. The search party is dead. So not only are you a widow, you’re not a citizen. But you are here. Which means you’ve got to start earning your keep.” Tommy undid his weapon belt and set it by the door.

Erica backed away. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe, whore.” Tommy lurched at Erica.

Erica’s reflexes had not had as much to drink as she did. Her elbow shot forward and caught the man across the top of his nose.

The blow was enough to send him staggering backwards and reaching for his face. He pulled his hand down and looked at the blood on his fingers. That evil smiled returned. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

Tommy rushed across the room and threw his full weight into her. This sent Erica into the wall and shook the old building. She bounced back into his arms. The knight wrestled her to the ground, climbed on top of her and pinned her arms above her head.

“What do you think? Do you think your friends were lying about me?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t care, Tommy. Please let me go.”

He ignored her pleas. “Well, why don’t we take a look and see?” Tommy spit his threat down the side of her face.

Erica winced and tried to get free, but the knight was too strong.

“It was always going to end up this way, you know? Your man was never supposed to come back. None of them were. Now there’s no tough guy here to protect you. No monster of a dog. It’s just us. Just the helpless damsel and the big bad knight.” Tommy grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and moved a hand to his pants.

Erica twisted and squirmed to get free. His grip was fierce. But as he struggled to undue his pants with a single hand, his palms began to sweat profusely. It had to be a condition. No one had that many sweat glands in their hands. In a matter of seconds his palms became slick and Erica tore her hand free.

Tommy’s attention had turned to the stubborn button on his pants. Now his head snapped up to see he had lost his hold. His face went pale and confusion grew in his eyes. He released Erica and rose to his knees.

Erica backed away on elbows and heels as the knight realized his other hand was stuck to his thigh with a knife.

Tommy tried to stand on weak legs. Blood stained his pant leg and the patch grew larger in rhythm with his heart. He looked at Erica but couldn’t say anything.

“Try and remember what he told you about the hand,” Erica said.

Tommy mustered a deep breath and pulled the knife from his leg. It was surprising to see how much blood it was holding in. It ran down his leg and began to pool at his foot. Sir Thomas Not the Longest screamed and raised the knife to strike.

Erica jumped to her feet and dove out of the way as he charged.

He was weak from a loss of blood. He was shaky from the shock of seeing his hand pinned to his thigh with a knife. He was stupid to begin with. All of this together with his momentum carried Tommy across the small apartment, through the window and down to the street below.

Erica, minding the broken glass, leaned out the window to see if he lived.

The pool of blood-stained snow around the man told her more than any chalk outline would.

A crowd gathered quickly. They looked up and saw her. They called the knights and pointed to her.

Her head still hurt like hell.

SIXTEEN

Funerals were a selfish affair. That hadn’t changed.

Friends and family gathered to grieve and arrange the burial while the person who did all the dying got little say in the matter. Sure, there was the last will and testament, but after quarreling over the specifics of the inheritance, dealing with escrow and holding an estate sale, who had time to follow such specific instructions?

Flowers were brought in. People cried. Coffee was had and life went on.

After the majority of the world died, funerals became a rarity. The survivors looked at cities filled with bodies, decided it would simply cost too much in flowers, and moved away rather than deal with the smell.

Out in the wasteland, a person stayed where they fell because chances are that whatever caused them to drop dead in the first place was probably still around and most likely still hungry. In dire situations like these, the funeral was boiled down to those remaining in the party shouting, “I’ll remember you,” over their shoulders as they ran away.

If they died somewhere safer, the ceremony was extended to a more formal, “We will never forget you,” before the party turned its back and walked away.

If they died in town, they would be buried to keep from stinking up the place.

But, generally, they weren’t a princess. Royalty still enjoyed the solemn affair, flowers and an obituary. Organs played, a choir sung and people said nice things about them before they were buried and immortalized as a statue, a portrait or a halfway decent caricature.

“I’ll remember you, Anna,” Aaron wept. She had been wrapped in a sheet of plastic and covered with desert sand to hide her from the Aztecs long enough for her body to be recovered and taken back home.

Jerry and Shane stood watch as the young man cried over her grave. “I’ll come back for you. I’ll come back and we’ll take you home. I promise. You deserve better than this. You deserved better than him.” He leaned over the grave and gently kissed the dirt. Then he spit the dirt out of his mouth and wiped what couldn’t be spit out on his sleeve.

Jerry put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “She’ll be safe here until her father can come get her.”

“Probably,” Shane added. “Can we go now?”

Jerry turned. “Shane … please.”

Aaron ignored Shane’s comment. “I hope you’re right. I can’t stand the idea of those monsters finding her.”

“She’s safer than we are,” Shane said.

“You?!” Aaron turned but did not rise.

“Yeah. Us.” Shane pointed to Jerry. “Me and him. We failed to rescue your precious princess, so there’s nothing waiting when we get back. No citizenship. No feast. Just the mines.”

“They just murdered the love of my life!”

A wail carried on the air from somewhere beyond the bottling plant. It was a single voice but it wouldn’t be long before more joined in.

Shane crossed his arms. “There’re worse fates, kid.”

“How dare you. I lost her!”

“I’ve got to go back to the mines!” Shane screamed. “Do you have any idea how terrible it is down there?”

“I don’t know, I imagine it’s like the void left in my soul from the murder of the woman I loved. Dark, bleak and cold. Is it like that?”

“You don’t know anything! It’s not cold at all. It’s hot. You never stop sweating. The air is so thick with dust that you take in a breath and spit mud. The pounding of the rock echoes in your head long after it stops. There’s never a moment of silence. No peace. The guy next to you smells. And the guy next to him smells even worse. It’s like working in a giant armpit. And if you’re lucky enough to die from the exhaustion, you get rolled out of the way to rot so the king can have his precious gold. You don’t get a fancy funeral like this.”

Aaron sprang from the ground and caught Shane under the chin with his fist.

The tall man stumbled back on weak knees but saved himself from collapse and came back at the young man swinging.

The exchange of blows was frantic. Each landed a few punches before the pair collapsed to the ground. Shane rolled to the top of the struggle and drew back his hand.

Jerry grabbed him around the chest and pulled him off the kid before he could strike and tossed him to the ground.

Shane came up with fury in his eyes.

Jerry turned his back. “He wanted her dead all along, Shane. We were never supposed to come back.”

Shane threw up his hands. “So what do we do now?”

Jerry helped Aaron to his feet. “We go back. We go back and we stop the prince from overthrowing the king, and I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Two of us? Against an army of knights?”

“Maybe not.” Jerry turned to Aaron. “What do you say? Are you up for some old-fashioned revenge?”

His fists still clenched, Aaron looked from Shane to Jerry and relaxed. He nodded slowly.

“Three of us?” Shane asked.

“For starters,” Jerry said. “We go back to Farmington with Aaron. He explains what happened, and King Rodney rallies his army to help and I can’t believe I just said that either.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Shane kicked a rock and moved to get his gear.

“The girls are in trouble, Shane. We have to get back and save them.” Jerry turned and bent to gather their belongings. He handed Aaron his sword and dropped the two hatchets into his belt. “We don’t have any choice.”

“You may not have choices, Jerry,” Shane said as he appeared behind Aaron. “But I do.”

Aaron screamed as the tip of the rusty katana grew from his chest. His death was quick. The young man’s face grimaced in pain and then relaxed. His body dropped to the ground as Shane withdrew the blade.

Jerry dropped to the ground and felt for a pulse knowing he wouldn’t find anything.

“You really do try and save everyone, don’t you, Jerry?”

The wailing grew from a single shriek into a horrible chorus. They were closer than before.

Jerry rose to his feet and watched Shane wipe the blood from the blade. He was smiling.

Shane shook the blood from his fingers. “I know who you are. Brae told me. Jerry the Librarian. And, more importantly, I know what you’re worth. So I figure I’ll kill you and claim the bounty. You see? I always had another way out. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted this to work out. I wanted to save the princess, return a hero and then turn you in. But if this is the way it has to be, that’s fine too.”

“You saved my life four times,” Jerry said.

“And it was a total pain in the ass every time. For such a legendary badass, you sure need a lot of babysitting.”

“Why bother?”

“If you died on the train or around any of the idiots we came here with, it would look pretty suspicious if I cut off your head and put it in a bag. These Middle Ages people are weird, but even that’s pushing it. But now that we’re alone, I’ll just take your head and be on my way back east.”

“What about Brae?”

“What about her?” Shane asked. “She’s a whore.”

“That’s not cool, man.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I mean—yes, she is a whore. But, I’m not calling her names. She’s a whore. Whoring is what she does. It’s how she earns her keep in the kingdom. They stuck me in the mines and they stuck her in bed.”

“We can still save her.”

“She’s been with every guy in the kingdom. Do you have any idea how they look at you when your wife is everyone else’s good time? Do you know what that does to a man? I haven’t been able to touch her in years.”

“You can get past this. I’m sure she did it for you.”

“What kind of sick logic is that? I loved her once. But it’s hardly worth risking my life going back, storming a castle—the valiant knight rescues the princess, Jerry. Not the harlot.”

“You’re hardly the hero here, Shane.”

“I can live with that.” Shane attacked. The katana with a thousand nicks whistled as it whipped through the air.

Jerry leapt back and drew the hatchets from his belt as Shane pulled the sword back against his side.

Shane stabbed the rusty point at Jerry’s stomach. The hatchet deflected the strike. Shane stepped backed quickly as the second hatchet tore the air in front of his face. He pulled the blade over his head and brought it down on top of the shorter man.

Sparks erupted from the collision of steel as Jerry crossed the hatchets to catch the sword’s blade. He pulled the tools tight and twisted his weight over the blade. He spun, turning his back to his opponent and following through to the side of Shane’s head. Shane fell away as Jerry wrenched the blade from his hand.

Shane stumbled back toward the parking lot on the edge of town and fell to his back. Jerry was between him and the fallen blade. Shane smiled. “What now? You don’t strike me as the kill-an-unarmed-man type.”

Jerry backed away, stepping behind the katana. “Pick up the sword.”

Shane propped himself up on his shoulders and shook his head. “Your moral code is going to get you killed, Jerry.”

Jerry backed up farther. “Pick it up now!”

“And what if I don’t?”

Jerry ran forward and leapt into the air. Shane fell back to the ground and crossed his arms in front of his face, assuming that his forearms were hatchet proof.

Jerry sunk a hatchet into the creature’s left shoulder.

The scream was deafening. The Aztec’s right hand reached out with nails like talons and grabbed Jerry’s right wrist.

He felt the nails break the skin and he fought back a shriek of his own as he swung the other hatchet into the beast’s ribs. Jerry pulled the weapons free and turned to face several of the mutations as they began to wail, and Shane finally began to catch on.

He heard Shane scrambling to get the sword as another creature came at him. This one had been a middle-aged woman before her humanity had been trumped by madness. Her hair was long and stringy in patches. Bald spots covered the rest of her head. Her teeth were spotty, as well. She led with those and tried for Jerry’s neck.

He tried not to see who she was before. He tried to ignore the flash of humanity in her eyes as the rusted edge of the hatchet separated her neck and shoulder, but it was there. They appeared just human enough to make a man think they could be reasoned with and cause a swell of guilt.

The woman fell to the ground and bled to death in front of him.

There was no time for regret as a group of three rushed at them next. Two came for him and the third peeled off to try and eat Shane. One was an older teen while the other still wore the remnants of a safety orange traffic vest. Jerry sent the teen sprawling and focused on the road crewmember. He was built like a water barrel and, despite the starvation that drove them all mad, he did not look as if he had missed too many meals.

Jerry swung and his hand was caught. The man in the safety vest wailed as he pulled Jerry closer and threw him to the ground. He rolled over as the teen pounced on him and pinned him to the ground. Jerry held him back with a forearm. His other arm was trapped at his side. All he could do was chop at the kid’s ankle. If it hurt, the creature didn’t show it. They screamed incessantly, so his wailing was no help.

The kid still had his braces. They were caked with rotted flesh and dirt, and they stank more and more the closer they got to his face.

Jerry turned his head to gain another inch of distance and saw Shane pulling the sword from the third member of the group. “Little help?”

Shane looked at him and moved out of view.

The wailing stopped with a wheeze. A sound of surprise escaped the teen’s swollen lips as he was torn from Jerry.

Alliances changed faster than anything in the wasteland and Jerry expected Shane to help him to his feet. They would fight off the mutants together and then go back to trying to kill each other—a standard deal in the wasteland.

But it wasn’t Shane. Safety Vest held the teen by his neck and squeezed as the kid tried to wail.

Jerry scrambled back from the skirmish.

The teen tore the flesh from Safety Vest’s arms as his wails were choked to nothing. Blood flew everywhere. The teen’s foot was still lying on the ground and the stump flailed as he tried to get free from the bigger beast.

Shane tore through two more of the wailing Aztec’s with the katana as the teen’s body dropped to the ground. The monster in the safety vest turned his eyes on Jerry and shrieked. His wail was like a storm siren as he charged.

Jerry did his best to get out of the way.

Safety Vest did not attack with the same reckless abandon of the others. His approach was more cautious and calculated. It could explain his weight. This one seemed smart enough and brutal enough to get what he wanted over the others.

Jerry held the hatchets firm in his hands. It was instinct telling him to throw them at the approaching threat. It screamed, “Throw it at him! He’ll go away. And if it doesn’t work, throw the other one. Then find something else to throw. Just don’t let that big bastard get any closer!”

The voices made sense, but Jerry did what he could to ignore them. He stood a better chance with the miniature axes in his hands. He knew this. But as the creature drew closer, he desperately wanted to throw them both and run away.

The mutant in orange didn’t lunge like the others. He didn’t lead with his appetite. He swiped a bloody arm like an awkward right hook.

Jerry blocked the swing with his forearm. The strike hit like a wall of water. It was slow but the force nearly pushed him off his feet.

A left swing followed and caught him on the shoulder. It knocked him the other way. Jerry dropped under the next blow and brought the hatchet down on the mutant’s boot.

Jerry swore as the blade bounced harmlessly off the boot. He should have known they’d be steel-toed.

The foot came up and caught him across the chest. The mutant wailed as the kick sent Jerry back three or four feet and put him on his ass.

Jerry rolled backwards to gain several more feet of distance, sprang to his feet and threw the hatchet.

It stopped the shriek. But only long enough for the creature to study the hatchet embedded in his shoulder.

Jerry could tell the creature didn’t think much of the wound. It certainly didn’t make him happy. The beast grunted and stomped forward. Jerry threw the other hatchet. It missed. He started looking for something else to throw.

He reached for a rock but the hand was around his throat before he could get his fingers on it. He’d fought tough guys before. He fought men twice his size, but none had ever lifted him from the ground with such little effort.

The mutant’s forearm felt like coiled rope but gripped like steel. Jerry tried to pull them free at first but, as his feet left the ground, he found himself trying to hold himself up so his neck didn’t snap.

The massive hands began to squeeze and Jerry’s vision started to fade. There wasn’t much time.

Jerry stopped fighting the arms and twisted the hatchet from the mutant’s shoulder. What had to be immeasurable pain didn’t register on the creature’s face. Jerry could even swear he thought he saw it smile.

The beast stopped smiling as the hatchet cleaved his face in two.

Jerry backed away and surveyed the battlefield as the monster collapsed to the ground. Shane had killed the final two Aztecs and had turned his attention back to collecting his bounty.

“I’m going to start a new band with the money. Maybe I’ll call us the Headhunters.”

“You don’t have to do this, Shane. You can still make this right.” Jerry looked around at the slaughter and saw the young man dead on the ground. “Well, you can’t make the thing with Aaron right, but you can still help me save Brae.”

“I’ll find a new girl,” Shane said. “The city is full of them and every chick wants a rock star.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Like I’ve been telling you since we met, Jerry. I’ve got you.” Shane held the katana like a Louisville slugger and ran forward.

Jerry stood his ground.

Shane jumped over the fallen road crewmember and swung with every intention of separating Jerry’s head from his shoulders with a single blow.

Jerry dove forward under the blade and somersaulted to the dead monster. He pulled the hatchet from the monster’s face, spun and threw.

Shane caught the hatchet with his face and toppled forward.

Jerry sighed, picked up the sword and retrieved the hatchets. He looked west down the river towards Farmington then back to the dead boy and the princess’s grave. That wouldn’t be easy to explain. He hung his head and turned back towards Silverton.

SEVENTEEN

Erica had never been in a courtroom. She had always kept her nose relatively clean and led a low-key social life prior to the end of the world. She’d never even been called for jury duty. After everything ended, justice became a much less formal affair and was meted out with fewer robes and gavels and forgoing the court all together. All she knew of courtrooms was what she saw on TV.

Countless shows had taken viewers into ornate courtrooms as roommates battled over water bills, cable bills, electric bills, rent-to-own bills and who ate the last of the leftover Moo Shu pork. Full of wood paneling, tall ceilings and more flags than an Olympic ceremony, these network sets made a mockery of the ones she saw on cable news. Real justice happened in drab civic buildings that were little more than boxes painted calming shades of blue.

The one constant was that in every case the judge sat elevated above the court and looked down upon the defendants. But it was nothing like the scene before her.

Behavioral psychologists claimed that the human eye was drawn to color. Through countless tests and experiments, it was determined that bold shapes and bright splashes of color would command the viewer’s attention first and foremost over all else. Erica doubted that any of these tests were ever conducted in a room with a twenty-foot throne made of discarded mining tools.

She stared up at the monstrosity wondering how anyone could sit, much less climb, the seat without impaling themselves on the exposed points of steel. She wondered how anyone could devote the manpower and materials to create such a gaudy seat of power. And she wondered how it could be conceived, built and installed without anyone bothering to measure the room beforehand. After that, she noticed the colorful banners placed around the room.

A small man in a large cloak entered the room with a certain drama that would have silenced the room had he not tripped on the ill-fitting garment. There was a short round of sarcastic applause as the man stood and cleared his throat. The small man looked like a drawn curtain in the folds of his cloak, but his voice was more than big enough for the room. “All rise.”

The applause ended and silence overcame the room as those present rose to their feet.

The man in the cloak stood before a tapestry that mostly covered a doorway. Erica could see the king behind it waiting mostly patiently as the man in the robe announced him.

“Introducing His Majesty Elias, protector of the realm, defender of the faith, enforcer of all that is good, conqueror of the rabble, the sinister and those who threaten peace, architect of peace, engineer of civility, conductor of prosperity, champion of right, punisher of wrongs, judge of those things in between, friend to all, nemesis of evil, benevolent ruler of the Five Peaks and undisputed champion of the handsomeness contest.”

The king entered and leaned towards the scribe.

Erica, shackled to a small table at the front of the courtroom, was close enough to hear.

“Maybe we should lose the last part,” Elias whispered.

“Of course, sire.”

Elias took a step towards the throne, had a thought and stepped back to the scribe. “Or move it up and end with the benevolent ruler bit. I think it might sound better that way.”

“Of course, sire.”

Elias didn’t bow. Kings don’t bow. He walked with a majestic strut to the foot of the throne, looked up and paused.

Erica heard him sigh before beginning the long climb to the top of his seat. It would be inaccurate to say he settled in, but there was a fair amount of shifting, twisting and one “ouch” as he took his place above the court.

The king nodded and the man in the robe spoke once again.

“Bow before your king.”

Erica turned and watched as the crowd bowed. The courtroom was full. This was theater to the populace. They weren’t here to see justice done. They came for the show. Citizens of all classes lined the rows. Even Sandra and the girls were gathered together in the back of the room. Erica made eye contact with them and they turned away. Only Brae held her gaze. There was something reassuring in the eyes of a friend.

The scribe had moved behind a small podium. “The defendant will now rise.”

Erica stood as far as the shackles would allow. By design, it was not her full height. No defendant could stand full and proud before the court of the king.

The scribe made the accusations. “Jennifer of the Outlands, you stand accused of murder of a Knight of the Realm. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Erica cleared her throat and spoke clearly. “I do, Your … Honor? If it pleases the court,” she knew enough about courts to begin with that. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Your town is beautiful. You have everything here. You have security. You have prosperity like I haven’t seen in years. But you’re so bat-shit crazy about this kingdom stuff that you’re treating others like peasants. Humanity spent hundreds of years overcoming this. Why would you want to go back to such a dark time?

“You have the resources here, the people, the organization to bring civilization back to the world, but you insist on this pageantry and nonsense. I’ve seen a glimmer of what was before the end in the people here. You have the might and the means to take good to the world. Call it your duty. Call it your quest. Call it whatever you want, but how can you sit here and condemn others to a life of misery as you sit upon your very weird throne when you are capable of so much more?”

There was no outrage from the courtroom. No whispers. Nothing. She had seen Jerry give these kinds of speeches a dozen times. She knew there was always lull before the roar. But it never lasted this long.

She cocked her head. Any moment now, those who knew her to be right would begin to stir. Whispers would become cries. A rhyming slogan would be crafted in mere seconds and the crowd would begin to chant. They would demand justice. They would demand equality.

Any minute now.

She turned to face the crowd and saw no passion in the expressions. What the hell was wrong with these people?

The king’s Hand spoke, “It’s not often the defendant opens by offending the throne. We shall tack that on to your list of offenses, but, for now, how do you plead to the killing of Sir Thomas, Sergeant of Arms of the Kingdom of the Five Peaks?”

Erica looked up at the king. “The bastard was a rapist … uh, Your Honor.”

The crowd gasped. She assumed it was more at the nerve of the words than the accusations. Everyone had to know what kind of man Tommy had been.

The Hand cried, “You will not besmirch the name of a guardian of the realm!”

“I’ll besmirch the shit out of him,” Erica snapped. “And while I’m besmirching, I’d like to add that you’re all idiots. You could be so much more, you could rebuil …”

“Silence!” Elias boomed. “That world is dead. It didn’t work. It was devoid of honor and loyalty. It was a world of ease. There was too much in the hands of too many. It was a world where people fought for nothing, because they needed nothing.

“You condemn our ways, but our ways work. Our ways are just. Our people are safe and work for what they have. This gives them more than material goods. It gives them honor. That’s what destroyed the world before ours. It wasn’t the bombs or the gas or the bugs. It was complacency.

“Everyone had all that they needed. They wanted for nothing. Everyone was equal and that was the problem. A world with equals is a world without order.

“We have order and order leads to happiness. It is honorable to struggle. It is honorable to rise above others. Tommy was an idiot. But he was a loyal idiot that had risen through the ranks with honor.”

A cough from the audience interrupted the king. A snicker followed.

Elias glared into the crowd for a moment before continuing. “You stand accused of murdering an honorable man. What say you?”

Erica’s mouth hung open. She searched for words. “I … I don’t know what to say. I thought you were a bunch of fantasy nerds. I had no idea you were all shit nuts. My apologies for the confusion.”

“Enough!” The king rose from his throne. His head displaced an acoustic tile and knocked his crown askew. He fixed it and delivered his verdict with a calm but firm voice. “For your crimes, you will be sent to the mines.”

The crowd in the courtroom began to chant. “For your crimes. To the mines. For your crimes. To the mines.”

There was the rhyming chant. Erica knew they had it in them.

The double doors at the back of the room burst open and the Dog’s presence filled the room before he stepped through the doorway. It seeped into the room as a cloud of fear and darkness. A dozen knights rushed past him. Each brandished a rifle and they rushed to surround the court. The Dog pointed to the king. “Seize him.”

“Guards!” the scribe shouted and rushed from behind his podium, elbows out to keep the billowing robe from his feet. “You can’t come in here …”

The fist burst from the man in black. There was a sickening crack as the scribe’s head twisted violently. He collapsed to the ground in a pile of cloth like a child hiding beneath the covers. He could have been out cold, but he was most likely dead inside his cloak.

The treacherous knights moved quickly to intercept anyone else bold enough to stand against them. A pair of guards rushed through the tapestry to answer the scribe’s call. They were immediately disarmed and thrown to the ground with a rifle in their back.

Two of the knights rushed to the base of the throne, tried to climb and retrieve the king, couldn’t work the steps and shouted at him to come down.

Elias stormed carefully down the throne a few steps. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The princess is dead.” If Elias walked with a swagger, it was only fair to say the young prince walked with a strut. He came into the room with all of the flourish a flowing robe of royal purple would allow. This was a tremendous amount of flourish. It was clear he had been practicing.

The crowd gasped at the news and the gossip mill fired up. Neighbors in the courtroom whispered what a horrible thing it was. Others argued it was the princess’s own fault. No, it was obviously the fault of whatever killed her. Whatever that turned out to be. The churn of gossip overpowered the prince’s explanation until the Dog fired a shot into the acoustic tiling of the great hall.

They grew quiet before the report’s echo faded.

The prince moved to the foot of the throne and turned to face the crowd. He cast an accusing finger at the king and spoke. “The princess is dead. Her body lies on the border of the Desert Kingdom. War with the south will soon be upon us and our great King Elias has let it happen.”

The crowd erupted with like-minded accusations.

The prince let them build for a moment before he shouted, “His failure to act has put us all in jeopardy! Our king has grown weak.”

“How dare you!” Elias tried to rush the prince but was seized by the two knights at the base of the throne. “How can you men do this to me? I am your king!”

Prince Robert spun with enough force that the purple robe lifted from the ground and brushed the king across the nose. “It’s time for a new king!” He smiled at Elias and began to climb the throne. He had been practicing this as well. “It’s time for a strong king. Someone who is willing to do what must be done to protect our kingdom. Someone who can lead us in this time of war against Rodney and his men. I want vengeance for my murdered wife. I want safety for our citizens. I want a future for the Kingdom of the Five Peaks.”

Elias struggled at the arms of his captures to get free. He’d beat the young man to death if not restrained.

The prince stood atop the throne with enough room to raise his arms. “Elias has failed us all! He has betrayed us. He refused to send knights after my wife. Instead he sent criminals. How can we trust a man like that?”

A hand went up in the front row. The man in black slapped it down and growled. “It was rhetorical, Steve.”

The prince rolled his eyes in a practiced, regal fashion and continued. “I will lead us to victory in the coming war! And I will expand this great nation. Elias has been hesitant to expand our borders.” The prince smiled. “He has become complacent.”

Elias lurched and yanked his right hand free. He decked the knight on his left and charged toward the throne. “You traitorous bastard!”

A pair of knights grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Shut it, ‘Dad,’” the prince said, heavy on the sarcasm.

“You ungrateful little shit.”

“Whatever, Greg,” the prince said and waved to the knights. “Take them to the mines.” He turned and sat upon the throne. “And someone get me a cushion.”

Knights loyal to the prince pulled Elias and Erica from the courtroom. Several knights loyal to the king were brought as well. The scribe did not move.

The procession of prisoners was led down the street towards the mine. Bound by a short length of rope, Elias and Erica were in front of the line. Elias leaned in close to her. “So much for your great warrior. I guess everything I heard about him was wrong.”

“Tommy said he was dead,” Erica said.

“I’m pretty sure they would have told me that,” Elias said.

Erica smiled. She had suspected Tommy was lying, but it was nice to have confirmation. “Then he’ll be coming for me.”

Elias laughed. “Last I saw him, he had nothing but a broken down car and that bear of yours. He’d need an army to get through our gates.”

Erica laughed and shook her head.

“What?” Elias asked.

“You’d be surprised at how fast he can raise an army.”

EIGHTEEN

They had not been hard to find. Jerry had followed a trail of smoke into the forest not far off the tracks into the heart of an old mining camp. The mountain men, women and children had stared blankly at him as he wandered up the ruts of the path through the town.

They were dirty and bathed in filth, but it was nothing compared to the mutants of Aztec. There seemed to be an acceptable level of disgusting that no one dared cross. It was somewhere barely above repugnant. But their clothes were not rags.

They didn’t look hungry. Their skin wasn’t drawn. Their limbs weren’t frail. They wore the reported starvation surprisingly well. This was a good thing considering how many times something had tried to eat him in the last day.

No one screamed at his presence. No one ran away. They studied the stranger that had wandered into their camp. Then someone recognized him from the train and everything got louder.

It never ceased to amaze him how fast a mob formed. It was the opposite of asking for volunteers. It started with a “you bastard,” a quick explanation to one person within earshot, and then the people poured from tiny cabins like the huts were clown cars dropping off their fare. They amassed before him and began to scream and hiss. No one rushed forward. No one broke from the mob. They pressed forward with a steady march.

His hands were empty. He had left the sword behind. The large duffel on his back was zipped shut and offered no threat. Jerry held up his hands and backed away. He never tried to speak during the genesis of a mob. They had their own priorities: threats had to be issued, insults had to be hurled, suitable punishment had to be debated and agreed upon. Not only would it be rude to interrupt, trying to speak over this phase of the mob angered them. Worst case, it made them begin the whole process over again and he simply didn’t have time for that.

He let them back him up against a boulder at the edge of town. As expected, they paused. No one was sure why this was. But they always paused. Jerry always felt it was the mob’s way of giving the condemned a chance for last words before they tore him apart. If that were the case, he would have to choose them carefully.

“First of all,” Jerry said, “let me apologize if I killed any of your friends or loved ones.”

They didn’t rush. That was a good sign. But they started growling. That was less encouraging.

“Tie him to the rail!”

“Throw him in the canyon!”

“Drown him!”

“Tie him to the rail!”

“You already said that, Sarah!”

“I really like the idea!”

Jerry raised his hands above his head and motioned for a calm that wouldn’t come. “All of those sound like perfectly good horrible deaths. And, considering our first encounter, very fitting. Especially tying me to the rail, very poetic.”

“Thank you,” Sarah yelled. “See, Rob?”

“But before we get to killing me, I’d like a chance to speak. When we met yesterday on the train, I didn’t know you. I didn’t know a thing about you. I had no idea who you were as a people. All I knew was that you were trying to kill me. I didn’t know your story. I didn’t know your struggles. I didn’t know your dreams.”

“And you think you know that now?”

Jerry nodded. “I know more. I know you’re probably not really horrible monsters and that Sarah dreams of one day tying me to a railroad track.”

“Wow,” Sarah said. “He’s right.”

“Yesterday we were people thrown together in an unfortunate situation. I tried to stab some of you. Some of you tried to stab me. Is that something we really want to dwell on?”

A man in the front of the crowd growled, “You stuck a hatchet in my shoulder.”

“Oh, that was you? Sorry about that,” Jerry said. “But I’m really glad you didn’t die.”

The man sneered. “I should kill you right now.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t he?” another in the crowd asked.

“Because we want the same thing.”

“Oh yeah? You want you dead too?”

“The prince.” Jerry let the answer hang in the air. “You want him taken out. I need him taken out. I think together we could take him out. If anything, I think that should make us friends.”

Watching a mob think was an interesting thing. Individuals arrived at their conclusions sooner than others. Whether it was instinct or courtesy, they let others arrive at their own before speaking. Jerry watched the quickest thinkers’ expressions turn from decision to patience to a look of frustration as the stupider people caught up.

“What makes you think we care about that piece of shit?” The words were meant to sound tough, but it was a legitimate question from a woman in the middle of the mob.

“First of all,” Jerry said, “you called him a piece of shit.”

Someone elbowed the woman in the middle of the crowd.

“Second, he’s about to take over the kingdom, if he hasn’t already, and any deal you have with Elias is sure to die with him.”

A large man, too round for a desperate cannibal, moved to the front of the mob and pointed a finger at Jerry. “What makes you think we have a deal with that tyrant?”

“Because you’re fat.”

“Hey.”

Jerry ignored him. “Here’s my guess. You’re not really cannibals.”

“Maybe we are,” a mother in the front of the crowd didn’t seem too convinced. The baby in her arms wailed. Who brings a baby to a mob?

“Then why don’t you eat me?” Jerry suggested.

“There is no need for that kind of talk, mister,” she scolded, and then blushed as the context caught up to her. “Oh, I get it.”

“Maybe I’ll eat you,” the man with the gimp arm growled.

“No, I don’t think so. After spending the day in Aztec, I’m confident I can spot a cannibal. And I don’t see anyone here that fits the bill. You’re better than that. You’re a good and decent people. I can tell.” Jerry turned and climbed to the top of the boulder.

The mob did nothing to stop him. The mother in the front rocked her baby to stop the crying.

Jerry stood and looked over the crowd. “I can tell by looking at you that you’re good people. Kind people. Families. Friends. But Elias needed an enemy. He needed a boogeyman. Monsters and ogres. He needed a troll under the bridge to protect the citizens from so he could maintain control of the kingdom. So he found you.”

There were no arguments from the crowd beneath him.

He continued. “He lets you rob a train every now and then to keep you fed and clothed. I think he sends morons to protect it. You make off with some food and your legend grows within the castle walls. You’re the monsters in the woods. You’re the boogeyman for an entire kingdom.”

“You could probably dial down the name calling a bit,” a woman said.

“And then he chases you. But, you escape. He forms search parties. He sends armies of knights and volunteers into the woods to find you. But he never has. Why do you think that is?”

“We’re too smart for him,” said one man to a rousing cry of cheers.

“I followed the smoke from your fires down a well-worn logging road and walked right into the middle of town. How well do you think you’re hiding?”

“He’s scared of us,” another said. The mob believed this as well.

“I think you’re right,” Jerry said.

The mob patted the man who said it on the back.

“I think he’s scared you’ll die off. I think he’s scared he won’t have a ghost story to tell his people. But more than that, I think you’re hungry. I think you’re tired. I think you think you’re in hiding. I think you’re doing everything you can to get by.

“I think you’re the good guys. I wish I could have seen that before all the stabbing, and for that I’m sorry.” Jerry hung his head.

The mob was silent. It was thinking again. Jerry watched the decisions arrive on the brightest. This time they didn’t hesitate and the man with the wounded arm spoke up, “It’s okay.”

“Really?” the woman next to him asked. “He tried to kill you!”

“Well, yeah, I mean. I was kind of trying to kill him first.”

Another woman protested. “He killed Kevin!”

“Is anyone really going to miss Kevin?”

There was a collective shrug and the mob turned back toward Jerry.

Jerry clasped his hands and mouthed the words thank you to the crowd.

“So what now, smart guy?”

Phase One had been to claim the mob and convince them not to kill him. With that done it was onto Phase Two. Pissing them off again. “If Elias is deposed and the prince takes the throne, I’m worried the free ride is up. That kid isn’t looking to keep the peace. He’s looking for war. And, from what we all saw on the train, he’s not going to put up with you raiding the train anymore.”

“We weren’t expecting the guns,” a man in the crowd said.

“If the prince takes over, you can expect a lot more. He’s not the romantic that Elias is. He wants blood and war and he’ll be coming for you.”

“What does it matter? You can’t get the prince. He’s back on the inside and he’s not coming out.”

Jerry nodded. “We have to storm the castle.”

The crowd laughed at this. The baby in the mother’s arm reacted to the crowd with a chuckle of its own.

“We can do this.”

One voice spoke for the crowd. “The hell we can.”

“I have a plan.”

“And they have knights, and walls.”

Jerry pulled the duffel bag from his back, unzipped it and dropped it to the ground in front of the boulder. It rattled when it hit the ground and the barrel of a shotgun spilled out. “I also have guns.”

A few men from the crowd stepped toward the bag and pulled some of the weapons out. One man cradled a shotgun and looked up at the man on the rock. “Who are you? Why should we trust you?”

“My name is Jerry and I’m a post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior.”

There was a buzz in the crowd as the people in front passed the information to the people in the back. There was recognition. They used the word librarian several times. They had heard of him. They knew he was a wanted man. He hoped they weren’t greedy.

There were no cries. The crowd grew silent until the man with the shotgun asked, “You really think this is going to get us into the castle?”

“No,” Jerry said. “We’re going to need one more thing.”

NINETEEN

They had marched the prisoners northeast for a couple of miles along an old state road. They stopped briefly near Boulder Gulch as more prisoners were brought to join the ranks. Those loyal to Elias had been found quickly, stripped of their weapons and brought to the line.

Their ranks doubled in size but brought the total number of prisoners to no more than thirty. It was evident that more were loyal to the kingdom than their king. Allegiances shifted quickly when faced with the idea of toiling in the mines.

The column was forced to march again. Road signs that had once advertised guided tours of the Old One Hundred Mine had been altered to let travelers know they were approaching the Five Peaks Mine and that all tourists would be executed.

The column passed another gulch and neared the mine. And the first sign of the mine came into view. High above the ground on the side of the cliff face sat a massive wooden lodging house.

They had marched in silence aside from Elias’s constant threats of revenge and mutterings of self-pity. Here was Erica’s first opportunity to change the subject. “Is that where the miners used to live?”

The king seemed happy that someone was finally acknowledging him, though he grumbled his answer. “They still live there. You’re looking at the kingdom’s prison. Our new home.”

“I thought they lived in town,” Erica said.

“Those criminals? I never let them near town without a guard.”

“Even the ones that volunteered? You’re despicable.”

The king laughed, but it was full of mockery. “No one volunteers for the mines.”

“But …”

“But, no one,” Elias said. “Even if they did, I’d never send an innocent person down there.”

“You must have a pretty lose definition of innocent,” Erica snapped.

“I think you’d be surprised how close it runs to yours, my dear.” The king looked up at the lodging house for a long moment. His face grew firm. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but don’t be fooled. It’s nothing but killers and criminals in there.”

“And now us.”

The king smiled. “You forget. You’re a killer.”

She didn’t want to talk to him after that. She marched in silence until they reached the mine’s entrance. The guards weren’t surprised to see the king in chains. The prince had obviously made his allegiances long before, and they smiled as the group passed.

“Welcome to hell, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said to great laughter.

“Et tu, Gerald? Et tu?”

“Yep. Me, too, Greg.” Gerald the guard tipped an imaginary cap and waved the column inside.

People had been digging in Galena Mountain for more than one hundred years. The most recent entrance was seventy years old and reinforced with concrete. Erica wondered how far in the modern technology went and how much farther Elias had his prisoners dig.

They were marched into the darkness past a placard noting the passageway as the American Tunnel. Tourist signs were still posted on the wall and Erica read them as she passed. She felt the breath leave her when she read that the American ran five miles into the earth. Her chest constricted and she was breathing heavier than necessary.

A string of electric lights lit the tunnel only enough to see the steps in front of her. Complete darkness may have been better. She listened for sounds, but there was nothing coming from beyond her sight. It was worse than the darkness.

The king must have felt it too. He spoke to her again, but his voice was warmer than before. He whispered, “What did you do? Back in Texas? What did you do that earned a price on your head?”

“I thought you knew everything,” she whispered back, but even that sounded loud in the silence. Their conversation could be heard by all and she didn’t care.

Elias shrugged. “Enemy of the state is such a broad brush.”

“We stood up for ourselves. Our people were the targets of terrorists and slavers. And when they came for us … we did what we had to. We did what was right.” She thought of New Hope and the family she had left behind. Her temper flared. Doing the right thing had gotten her here. In the dark. In the silence. She snapped, “We stood up to people like you. And for all that we had to run. For that I’m here in a hole in the ground.”

Elias sighed. “I was only trying to do what was right. I wanted nothing more than a place people could feel safe. I never thought it would turn out this way.”

“Yeah, who would have thought declaring yourself king could go so wrong.”

“I never declared myself king. The people asked it of me. People I knew and cared about turned to me. Maybe it was a silly reason. Maybe it was because they were used to it. But they asked me to keep them safe. What would you have said?”

Erica turned away. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

Elias answered slowly. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“You were going to send me here. Because I defended myself against a man that tried to hurt me. You pretend you’re just and fair. And you have the nerve to stand there and say you were doing what was right. I’m sure you knew what a piece of shit Tommy was. But he was one of yours, so I would be here whether there was an uprising or not. Don’t try to make an ally out of me, Your Highness.”

Elias started to respond but thought better of it. He hung his head and marched as far ahead of her as the chains would allow.

They marched forever. The air grew hotter and thicker. Sweat began to build on her brow. It felt like she was choking on ash. Every breath was gritty and dry. After a half hour of walking, they veered to the right. The rails gave way to a dirt pathway and rafting timbers that appeared to be made of hope.

“Hey, Greg,” the guard’s voice boomed, but Erica couldn’t tell if he was shouting or not. “What do you think?”

The guard directed a flashlight at a sign posted to the wall before the entrance of another tunnel. It read Elias’s Vain.

The king read it and replied, “I think you misspelled vein.”

“No, we didn’t.” The guard’s white smile was brilliant in the low light. His laugh was unbearable.

The group was led down Elias’s vein. The timbers here looked tired, the lights were farther apart, and the heat was oppressive. Erica could barely breathe.

Finally, there was sound ahead. She’d hoped for voices—proof that life could exist this far under a mountain. But the only sound was the endless clanging of hand tools against rock. There was no rhythm to the miners’ work. There was no steady sound, just a cacophony of clanks and grunts.

This stopped as the new prisoners came into view of the inmates. For a moment it was deathly quiet again. Erica noted that she even missed the sound of wind, though she had never noticed it before. But there was nothing but the breathing of tired men.

Their escorts began removing the chains.

“Here you are, Your Highness,” the guard said as he undid the shackles around Elias’s wrists. “Enjoy your stay.”

The guards laughed and made their way back up the tunnel toward the surface.

The inmates began laughing, taunting and booing all at once. Spit flew in all directions as the miners hawked black phlegm at the knights and the king.

The whistles were directed at Erica.

“Holy shit! They finally sent us a girl!” A miner dropped his pick and rushed from his place at the rock towards Erica. Sweaty and panting from the heat, he reached out his hands to grope the woman.

Elias dropped him with a single punch across the face and the miner collapsed to the ground and slid off into the darkness.

For a long moment, no one moved. Slowly the miners began swinging their tools gently from side to side. They tapped the heavy instruments across the palms of their hands until they built a steady beat. Then it stopped. The tension was thicker than the air.

“To me, my knights! Protect the lady.”

The miners rushed. Before any could reach her, the knights that had stayed loyal to the king surrounded Erica and formed a wall two thick between her and the prisoners.

Some of them fell. All of them fought back. And, in a matter of minutes, it was over. Erica was still within a wall of knights. Each now armed with a pickaxe or shovel taken from the miners.

The prisoners backed away to the wall but did not work. Several were dead from the skirmish. Others were wounded.

Five knights had fallen in the initial rush and the others were tending to them.

Elias thanked his men before checking to make sure Erica was all right. “Did they harm you?”

“This king thing is really who you are, isn’t it?”

Elias puffed out his chest. “There are worse things to be. As long as my men and I stand, we shall protect you.”

Erica nodded. “You wear it well. Anyway you can rule our way out of here?”

His chest deflated. “They’ll be waiting for us at the entrance with their damn guns. Any rush on the gate will be a disaster.”

“Is there any other way?” she asked and received nothing but a blank stare and an “I dunno” from the king. “There’s got to be another way,” she said.

One of the miners laughed. “If there was any way out of this hell, we would have found it long ago, you dumb bitch.”

Elias waved to a knight. “Sir Geoffrey, come here.”

The largest knight in the ranks stepped forward. “Yes, sire?”

Elias pointed to the prisoner that had made the comment. “Beat him.”

“Yes, sire.”

Erica sat against the wall as the king paced, stroked his beard and thought over the sound of the beating. She was exhausted. A ten-mile trek was nothing she wasn’t accustomed to, but here in the mines the heat took its toll. She closed her eyes and pictured a cool breeze in an open field with plenty of daylight and fell asleep.

TWENTY

The water station wasn’t far from the camp—a point Jerry made to reinforce the idea that the mountain men weren’t as hidden as they thought. Five of them moved down the hill using the trees for cover though there wasn’t much to hide from. The majority of the station crew was hiding from the cold inside a small cabin. White smoke fluttered out of the chimney and there was no telling how many men were crowded around the cabin’s stove.

Only one guard was outside and wasn’t so much patrolling the area as pacing quickly to keep his blood flowing. He stomped from one end of the cabin to the other keeping his chin down and hiding behind the large collar on his jacket.

The group moved behind a snowdrift at the tree line. Jerry peeked over the top for a moment and slid back down between the other four. “The guard just moved behind the cabin. Someone has to take him out.”

JJ was built thick and quick to volunteer for the raid team. He mumbled behind a thick brown beard as he climbed to the top of the drift. “I’ll do it.”

He took aim with the rifle.

Jerry grabbed JJ’s ankle and pulled him back down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take him out.”

“Not with the gun,” Jerry said. “They’ll hear you.”

“So I’ll shoot them, too.”

“No,” Jerry said. “We have to do this quietly.”

“Guns aren’t very quiet, man.”

“That’s why I’m saying don’t shoot him.”

JJ shook his head. “So why’d you even give me the gun?”

Jerry sighed. “Just go down there and knock him out.”

JJ frowned through the beard and started to climb the drift again. He stopped at the top. “Can I at least hit him with the gun?”

Jerry put his face in his hands and nodded as JJ climbed the snowdrift and slid down the other side. He pulled his hands away from his face and found the other three men from the team staring at him.

A man named Kyle was a little older than JJ and not nearly as thick. He acknowledged the frustration in Jerry’s expression. “Nobody really likes him because …”

There was a crack and thump and an, “I got him!”

Jerry closed his eyes tight and said, “Shit,” under his breath. When he opened his eyes, Kyle was still staring at him.

“… He’s kind of stupid.”

Jerry led the team over the drift and down towards the cabin as five men rushed out into the snow. They were unarmed and not expecting an attack. The mountain men made short work of the crew without firing a shot.

The men from the woods fought hard. They were hungry for revenge. There were years of frustration behind every punch, every tackle and every kick at the unconscious guards. Jerry let them have only a couple before instructing the men to bring the crew back into the cabin.

They bound the men and found a rack of keys hanging on a nail on the wall. “Someone grab those keys and open the carriage house.”

Kyle grabbed the keys and the men followed him outside. Jerry looked around the spartan office. He had expected the illusion of castles and kings to end at the castle walls, but even here he found no guns and little technology aside from a two-way radio and an electric light.

He was about to go after the team when the radio crackled to life. “Water station. This is engine nine. We’re on schedule and about twenty minutes out. We’ll be needing to top off the tanks.”

Jerry picked up the transceiver and pressed the button to speak. “That’s good to hear, engine nine. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Jerry set down the mic and stepped outside. The carriage house doors were already open and Jerry walked along the spur into the building. The team was standing around their target with their mouths hanging open.

Jerry looked at the train car and smiled. “That’s the one that we’re looking for.”

Kyle patted Jerry on the back. “Good plan. Good plan.”

“Thank you, Kyle.”

The car impressed JJ as well, but his thinking got the best of him. “Some plan. This thing won’t push itself. Where are you going to get a train?”

Jerry looked at his watch. “It will be here in eighteen minutes.”

TWENTY-ONE

Erica awoke with a start. She gasped and jerked and hit her head on the wall of the mine. She choked on the air and remembered where she was. She began to panic. How long had she been asleep? How could she have even fallen asleep? She wasn’t safe here.

She looked around the tunnel. Nothing had changed since she passed out. The knight’s still held the tools as weapons and the miners were lined against the wall. They made no move toward the king or his men.

The beating had stopped. The miner that had lunged for her was curled up with his back to the group. She could see his back move as he took in deep breaths, so she knew they hadn’t killed him.

She noticed bruises on several other prisoners but could not remember if they were there before she fell asleep. Had there been another struggle? Had the king’s men beaten them? Or was it just a matter of life in the mines?

She could hear Elias speaking but she could not make out the words.

Erica stood and stretched out the kinks that came with sleeping on the floor of a mineshaft. She nodded to the knights that took notice and made her way towards the king’s voice.

The lights provided enough light to work by but were also a reminder of how impossibly dark it was deep in the earth. She moved from the cast of one bulb to the next, speeding through the shadows in between.

The king and five of his men were at the end of the tunnel drawing in the dirt with a stick. They spoke in hushed tones but she could hear the ebb and flow of a debate. Once she stepped closer, she realized they were making a plan to retake the kingdom.

The king was the first of the group to see her. “Ah, there’s our Sleeping Beauty. Are you feeling better, my dear?”

Erica nodded and wondered if the king could see her roll her eyes in the dark. “Thank you, Elias.”

The king nodded. “Call me Greg.”

“Thank you, Greg.” She looked at the scrawling in the dirt. “Making plans?”

“Yes, we’re pretty certain we can retake the town with minimal force if we can just kill that son of a bitch Robert.”

“Your son?”

Elias shook his head. “That’s not … he’s not …” he sighed. “I’m done playing make believe. Things will be different from here on out. But first we have to kill the prince. And we don’t think that will be a problem.” He stepped back to give her a full view of the map on the floor. “Once we get to the town’s wall, we enter through a secret passage known only to me. If we go in the dead of the night, we can remain unnoticed as we move throughout town. We’ve identified those loyal to Robert and those whose loyalty is a matter of convenience. Once his true soldiers are taken out, and he’s killed, there should be no trouble retaking the throne.”

“Which—” one of the knights prompted.

“Which,” Elias continued, “I will then abdicate to a democratically elected ruler.”

“Sounds like a great plan, Greg.” Erica didn’t care that the king had learned a lesson. She didn’t care he was growing as a person. She just wanted outside. “So how do we get out of the mine?”

Knights of legend were known for their stoicism. They would face death or dragons in the eye and never flinch, never frown. Erica realized only now how easily stoicism could be confused for dumb looks. Every man in the circle looked at her with a blank expression.

She rolled her eyes again. “Sounds like a great plan, Greg.”

Elias pointed to the crudely drawn map on the floor. It indicated the mineshaft, their location and several exes. Elias explained these. “Some of the prisoners were kind enough to share what they knew. There is a large contingent of guards at the entrance. They are now undoubtedly armed with firearms, or we might have a chance. There is another group here halfway up the American Tunnel between the exit and where we are now.”

“Elias’s Vain,” Erica added.

“Yes,” Elias said with more than a little grit in his teeth. “Thank you for reminding us all. Even this small group, armed as they are, would mow us down.”

“There aren’t any other tunnels?” Erica asked.

“Hundreds of them,” Elias said. “People have been digging in the mountain for more than a century. But the prisoners have never found the one that leads out.”

“So there is another way out?” Erica said.

“There’s another way in,” one of the knights explained. “They’ve encountered animals down here. Every now and then a mountain lion wanders in. It could have come from some other path. But just because it could get in, doesn’t mean it could get out.”

“But there is another path to the surface,” Erica said.

“Okay,” said the knight. “But how do you plan on finding it? Do we just wait for another beast to wander in and ask it directions? We have to attack the guards.”

“No, we have to wait,” another began to argue and it set the debate in motion again. Every one of them had an opinion as to what should be done, and every one of them was convinced they were right.

“Well, boys,” said Erica as she backed away. “This is where I came in.” She walked back up the tunnel to where she had passed out. The prisoners watched her with lustful eyes but said nothing. The beating of her attacker must have been severe enough to turn the rest into gentlemen.

She sat against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. It was too low, too close, and she could feel herself begin to panic so she looked at the ground. It reminded her of the ceiling so she looked at her hands. When that didn’t work, she closed her eyes and focused on breathing. After a few deep breaths, a voice spoke to her.

“You’ll get used to it.”

She opened her eyes. It was one of the prisoners. He repeated himself. “The tightness. You’ll get used to it.”

A knight took a step toward the man. “What did we say about speaking to the lady?”

“Relax, Lancelot.” The prisoner picked at the dirt under his nails. It would be a lifetime to get them clean. “I was just trying to help.”

The knight raised the shovel. “Do I need to help you shut up?”

“No,” Erica said to the knight. “It’s okay. Let him talk.”

The prisoner smiled at the knight and continued. “You get used to it. You get used to walking hunched over and breathing this dust … you get to where the outside world scares you, you know. It’s just so big and open. Down here it’s …” he searched for the word for a long quiet moment before shrugging and saying, “… safe.”

“Safe?” Erica asked.

“Sure. You’ve got a mountain on every side of you watching your back. You’ll never freeze to death. You know where you stand down here. It’s safe.”

“What about the mountain lions?”

He smiled. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Where do you think they come from?”

“Who knows? They probably built their den in an old tunnel thinking it was a cave. But then they got trapped and went looking for an escape. Who can blame them?”

“Must have been pretty scary.”

Again the prisoner shrugged. “It was exciting. Not a lot happens down here, you know. The first one that showed up, one of the guys got so excited he tried to make the cat his pet.”

“What happened?”

“He died horribly. He died from cat.” The prisoner smiled. “He was an idiot. But at least it only got him. The second one killed three of us.

“It came in the dark, you see? Lights out. We were sleeping. One of the boys feels the thing’s nose on him. He wakes up thinking it was one of the boys playing a prank. So he punches it. Right in the nose. You’ve probably never punched a lion in the nose before. It’s not a good idea.

“The thing went nuts, tearing into anything it could find in the dark. The screams were horrible. They bounced all over the walls; it was like a mad house before the day’s dosage kicks in. It was a nightmare. We had to fight it in the dark. We thought we had it, but, by the time the lights came on, it was gone.”

“So this happened some time ago?” Erica asked.

“Wednesday.”

“Did it die?” Erica asked. “Will it come back? ”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” His smiled turned wicked. “You’ll be dead long before a cat can get you.”

The knight stepped in between Erica and the prisoner. “That’s enough out of you!”

“Enjoy your moment, Lancelot. You’ve got the shovel now, but just wait until lights out and we’ll see how big you are.”

The knight took two quick steps forward and struck the prisoner in the mouth with a fist. The prisoner didn’t make a sound until he spit his front tooth out onto the mine floor. The knight smiled. “I’ll listen for the whistle,” he promised.

Lights out? They were going to turn the lights out? She knew she’d go mad. The dark, the deep, the heat and knowing there was an angry mountain lion somewhere in the mines … how could she handle lights out?

Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. The knights argued. The prisoners stared and Erica focused on breathing. By doing this she had started to feel better with the space. She focused on steady breaths. Not too deep. Not too fast. Shallow and slow enough to get more air than dust. She had fallen into a comfortable rhythm when the lights went out.

Confused calls came from the knights as they tried to answer what happened, but it was soon clear that even knowing wouldn’t help.

The prisoner that had been so chatty had the laugh of a boogeyman. “I’m coming for you, Lancelot.”

She had never known a darkness like it. There was nothing. She held her hand in front of her face. The dial of her watch glowed faintly from what little sunlight the luminous dial still held. She tore it from her wrist and threw it away.

“I saw that, girl.” It was the man that had come for her before. “I know right where you are.”

The tunnel erupted in sounds as the prisoners sprung their attack. Even a vast amount of experience in the dark meant very little. Dark was dark. It didn’t matter how used to it you were. But the enemies had certainly found one another. Grunts and screams filled the tunnel as they clashed.

Erica backed against the wall and pulled her knees to her chest, praying that the lights would come back on and that the knights still had control.

A hand seized her ankle and pulled her into the middle of the tunnel. She felt a hand on her chest. It was calloused and rough. The other hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed. She felt someone near. Hot panting breaths hit her face. The prisoner’s voice was a rasp against nails. “Wasn’t it nice of them to turn the lights off for us?”

Erica screamed, but it did no good. They couldn’t find her in the dark. She was at the mercy of the monster. She began to wonder how far away the prison guards were. Where was the stupid x in the dirt? Would they even care enough to come?

She heard the pounding of feet from farther up Elias’s Vain. At first she thought they were the guards. But they were soft and padded steps galloping through the dirt and dust of the fallen rock. It growled.

The sounds of the struggle slowed. The prisoners heard it, too, and called to one another. “It’s back.” “Get together.” “Over here. Come find me.” “You find me.”

The man on top of her relaxed his grip and pushed himself up. She could hear the fear in his breathing.

The beast drew closer with tremendous speed and began to growl.

She heard the weight of the beast launch on her attacker and the man began to scream. He screamed as the beast tore into him.

It lasted for less than a minute. His screams grew weaker with each second until they ceased all together.

There wasn’t a sound in the tunnel.

The beast stopped growling.

Erica heard it turn towards her in the darkness. She put her hands up in front of her face. She knew what was coming next.

The animal’s hot breath covered her face. She felt the nose on her cheek as it sniffed. She took its head in her hands and began to cry. “I missed you, too, girl.”

Chewy barked and Erica moved. She found the dog’s collar with her hand and held tight as the mastiff led her up the branch to the American Tunnel.

A light danced in the dark and a timid voice called, “Hannibal? Hannah? Where’d you go?”

“Brae?” Erica whispered back and the beam from the flashlight found her face in the dark.

“I swear that dog can find you anywhere!”

Erica gave Brae a quick hug and took the flashlight the girl offered her.

“Follow me,” she pointed the light farther into the American Tunnel. “Hannah found a way in.”

TWENTY-TWO

Those that survived the end of the world awoke to a great opportunity. A lot of people had died and that was sad, but a lot of the people that died were the people that had stopped many dreams from coming true. Security guards, loan managers, traffic cops, the Federal Aviation Administration—people and organizations that were there to say, “don’t touch that,” “you can’t go there,” “you can’t afford that,” “you need a license to fly,” and various other party-poopers had lost their power when everything blew up.

Despite the bombs, dreams were coming true everywhere. Financial woes were no longer an excuse not to drive a Lamborghini. And, since there was no one left to suspend a license, there was no good reason not to drive it at two hundred miles per hour. If you wanted to fly, you only had to get in a plane and try. If you felt Washington’s portrait needed finishing or that he might cross the Delaware faster with an Evenrude, all it took was a tube of paint and a little time.

But, even though the world had become every survivor’s oyster, there was one dream that still eluded many.

There wasn’t a little boy on earth, before or after it blew up, that didn’t want to drive a train. Through the eyes of a child, it was the perfect job. You got to go fast. You got to push buttons and pull levers. You got to yell at everyone and tell them what to do. And you had to yell. An “all aboard” spoken with an inside voice was useless. You had to yell. But more than anything, you got to pull the whistle.

Jerry’s inner little boy pulled hard on the cord that diverted steam from the boiler to the train’s whistle. White steam burst from the pipe and the train screamed. Jerry grinned and imagined what Erica would think when he told her he’d stolen a train to save her. She’d probably scold him for bragging, he decided. He pulled the whistle again and leaned out the door to smile at two of the mountain men that were standing outside.

They looked disappointed and he couldn’t figure out why. They had the train. They had an army. They had a chance. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Kyle said.

“Yeah,” JJ added. “It’s nothing.”

“What the hell is wrong?” Jerry asked again. “We just stole us a train and it looks like someone kicked your dog.”

They said nothing.

“C’mon, the plan worked perfectly.”

“Yeah, well, so what?” JJ said. “It’s easy to steal a train when it’s standing still.”

“Right,” Kyle said. “Try stealing it when it’s moving. Then you have something to toot your horn about.”

“Why would you try and steal it while it’s moving?” Jerry asked before he realized what they were getting at. “Oh. Look, you guys shouldn’t feel bad. You’ve got your own train now!”

JJ and Kyle looked away.

“C’mon, Kyle,” Jerry said.

Kyle spit on the ground and kicked at it with his boot.

“JJ?” Jerry said. The man wouldn’t turn. “JJ?”

The big guy finally acknowledged his name. “What?”

“You want to blow the whistle?”

“What? No, I’m okay.”

“Come on. Come up here and blow the whistle.”

JJ gave up the pout and smiled. “Okay!” He fell rushing up the steps of the train.

“Watch your step, now,” Jerry said and gave him a hand into the engine. He let the large man past and pointed at Kyle. “You’re next.”

Kyle smiled.

JJ grabbed the cord, took a deep breath and was about to blow the whistle.

“JJ, wait!” Jerry yelled.

The large man let go of the cord like it was a hot stove. “What?”

“You can’t blow the whistle without yelling, all aboard!”

JJ leaned out the door and yelled. “All aboard.” Kyle began to hop with excitement. JJ laughed, ducked back in the engine and pulled the cord. The whistle screamed. JJ screamed along with it. Kyle screamed, too.

JJ gave the whistle three long blasts before he was willing to let go. But the screaming didn’t stop. It came from everywhere.

Jerry stepped to the engine’s door and watched as the entire mountain man community emerged from the woods. They screamed like a train whistle and rushed towards the engine. They waved what guns he could supply. The rest waved crude weapons and tools, but it was an army unlike any the kingdom had ever seen. They were so excited to see the train that Jerry could barely hear Kyle yelling at him from the ground.

“Hey!” He started to wave and the motion caught Jerry’s eye. The man looked concerned.

“What is it, Kyle?”

“I still get my turn, right?”

Jerry let Kyle have the honor of yelling the official all aboard and announcing their departure. He did it with enthusiasm and the army of woodsmen loaded into the rail cars.

Jerry pushed the throttle forward. The wheels spun several times before finding purchase on the rails, and the engine lurched forward. There was a loud bang as it pushed into the car ahead of it and the sound was echoed many times as those behind caught up.

He gave one more blast on the horn and they were on their way. He looked out the window and wished he had an engineer’s cap.

TWENTY-THREE

They stumbled through the dark as fast as the beams from the flashlights would allow. Erica fell several times over the rail ties and broken rock. Every time she hit the ground, Chewy rushed to her side and tried to help her up by placing her large head under her arms.

Brae tried to move them faster. “Hurry. They’re sure to get the lights back on soon.”

“That was you?” Erica said. So far, running was all she knew of the escape plan.

Brae’s answer was interrupted by shots from the guards. The girls turned to look back down the tunnel and saw several beams of light scattering along the walls.

“C’mon,” Brae grabbed her hand and pulled her faster down the tunnel. “It’s just ahead.”

They ran along the tracks for another minute before veering to the right into a side tunnel. It was smaller than the American in height and width. Brae ducked under a barricade that had been erected to protect tourists and moved into the dark.

Erica hesitated to follow.

She still couldn’t see the guards but they were closing in. Once the lights came on, they would be caught.

Brae’s hand extended from the darkness. “C’mon, Jen. It’s okay.”

Chewy nudged her forward and Erica ducked under the barricade. The dog followed.

The tunnel lowered quickly. Erica found herself crawling over fallen rock. Brae was kicking up so much dust that the beam from her flashlight was almost useless.

The dust choked her breathing. The walls were too close. She couldn’t see Brae. The guards were getting closer. She could hear their footsteps now. She didn’t have much time. She had to get out. She had to get back to the main tunnel. She thought she could hide and escape later.

“I can’t do this,” she said and turned back toward the tunnel. The earth shifted beneath her as she crawled. She could see the guards’ flashlight beams dancing on the wall outside the side tunnel. She had to hurry.

The lights came back on. The guards were there. There were several of them. She was staring right at them and they at her. Erica froze. Chewy stood between her and the armed men.

“Come out of there,” one guard said. He raised a pistol at her to make his point. “Now.”

The gun went off as one of Elias’s knights collided with the guard and knocked him from view. The bullet ricocheted off the wall not far from Erica’s head and careened into the dark corners of the mineshaft. The knights jumped the guards from behind and got the upper hand, but gunshots filled the tunnel with chaos. Elias appeared at the end of the tunnel and saw Erica.

“Go,” he said and waved her on. “We’ll hold them here.”

Erica turned and crawled towards Brae’s shouts. It wasn’t long before she saw the flashlight beams trying to cut through the dust.

“Jen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she yelled into the dark.

A hand reached out and grabbed her own. Brae pulled her deeper in to the tunnel. There the dust had settled and Erica could see again. Brae hugged her and smiled. “I thought we’d lost you.”

Erica didn’t know what to say so she just shook her head.

“It’s this way. Stay close. It can get confusing.”

The sounds of the struggle faded quickly as Brae led her down a series of tunnels that broke off from the main passage. They worked their way through the dark for five minutes before Erica noticed it didn’t feel so dark. It was coming from somewhere besides the flashlights. She could see Brae without shining the light on her.

“Is this it?”

Brae moved to the side of the tunnel and leaned against the wall looking up. “This is it.”

Erica rushed to her side and looked. A few feet off the ground was the entrance to another tunnel. Dug not by hand but by a trickle of water from above, the tunnel ran at an angle towards the surface. Somewhere in the distance above, she could see sunlight. Her world got bigger, and for the first time since entering the mine she wasn’t focused on her breathing.

It took both of them to lift the massive animal, but the girls helped Chewy into the tunnel first. The dog worked her way up the slope with Brae and Erica right behind her. Several times the mastiff began to slip but Erica was there to catch her. Erica grunted a few times as Chewy’s excited tail caught her in the face. There would be bruises.

It was farther to the top than it looked, but the women persisted in their climb and reached a cave on the side of Galena Mountain. There had been no sign of their pursuers. Even if the guards had emerged victorious in the battle with the knights, the path they had taken was so dizzying that Erica doubted they could follow.

Brae must have felt the same confidence. “I think we can rest for a bit.”

Erica pushed her way past the girl. “Fine, but I get the seat near the door.”

Brae smiled and let her through.

Chewy followed and set her head in Erica’s lap once she had settled in. The dog, winded from the climb, panted. It looked like she was smiling.

Erica smiled back and looked outside the cave. The outdoors had never looked so good. She took deep breaths of cool air free from mining dust and held them in as long as she wanted. The fresh open air revitalized her more than any amount of rest could. She realized she had been quiet for some time. “Thank you, Brae. Thank you for coming after me.”

“We girls have to stick together now, don’t we.” The woman smiled. “Besides, it was Hannah’s idea. She followed you right out of town and didn’t stop until she found a way to save you.”

Erica looked at the dog in her lap. Her big brown eyes always looked sad. It was the nature of the wrinkles on her coat. Now they looked up at her as she scratched Chewy’s head. “Thank you, girl.”

The mastiff let out a small woof and pushed her head farther into Erica’s lap.

“Besides, I couldn’t leave you there,” Brae continued. “You mean too much to Jerry. Did he ever tell you how we knew each other?”

Erica shook her head and Brae smiled sheepishly.

“I don’t blame him for that. It must have been awkward. Meeting the ex always is.”

“The ex?”

Brae nodded and then put her hands up in defense. “Don’t worry. It was a long time ago. We were over way before the end of the world.” She laughed at this. “But you know how it is. Girl meets boy. Girl loses boy. World blows up. Girl finds boy in a post-apocalyptic kingdom of dorks … it’s the classic tale.”

They both laughed at this.

“What I’m saying is that Jerry and I were a lifetime ago. But when you have a history with someone, you just never lose it, right?” This drew a thick silence. “When he showed up with you, he just looked so happy—like me and Shane. I lost everybody, Jen. Everybody. Jerry is the first person I’ve seen since the Crappening that I knew before. And I want him to be happy just because I can make a friend happy. I miss that feeling.”

Erica smiled. She felt the sting of a tear at the corner of her eye and wiped it away.

“Don’t you start crying! Then I’ll start crying and we’ll be here all night like a couple of old girlfriends. We’ve still got a walk ahead of us before we’re really free.”

“Where to next?”

“There’s a place in the forest—Shane and I agreed that if there was ever trouble, and we were separated, we’d meet there.” Brae moved to the front of the cave. She pet Chewy on the head and looked out onto the mountain. “I’d say this counts as trouble. The boys will meet us there.”

“Brae? I have to ask about Shane.” The king’s words about the prisoners had stuck with her and she had to know. “You told me he was working in the mines to earn his citizenship.”

“That’s right.”

“The king told me there were no innocent men in the mines. No volunteers. Nothing but criminals.”

Brae looked sad and sat on a rock across from her. “He killed a man. He killed a man protecting me.” She hung her head. “He’s in there because of me.”

Erica reached out and put a hand on Brae’s arm. “Don’t …”

“No. I … I was being selfish and silly. Like I always was, and … he saved my life. But they found him guilty. I couldn’t leave him, so I did what I had to so I could stay here and find a way to save him right back.

“I’m sorry I lied about it. It’s hard to tell people your husband is a criminal.”

“Don’t apologize. Besides, it sounds like he’s a hero to me.”

This made Brae smile. “He is. He really is. He’s my hero. He’s my stupid knight in shining armor.”

Erica stood and Chewy jumped back onto her feet. “Then let’s go see our knights and get the hell out of this screwed up town.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Her name was Kára. She had died once before. Her name was Sirún then, and she had died of sadness after losing a true love. Her name now meant the wild, stormy one, and nowhere was this more evident than in her eyes. They burned blue like the tail of a comet screaming across the heavens. They raged as she fought back the beasts of legend and myth with a mighty sword and lethal whip. She had stood for many years, but she was about to die again. This time it would not be from the sadness of a cursed and lost love. This time a desperate man was going to ram a train into her tits.

Five hundred yards of open field separated the forest and the gaudy gates of the kingdom. Jerry had stopped the train a mile before and let the army off. They moved silently into the woods and made their way to the edge of the forest where they would wait for the most obvious signal ever devised.

Only Jerry, Kyle and JJ stayed on board the train as it built its speed back up. At full throttle the smokestack blew soot, ash and steam three hundred feet into the air and the whistle blew louder than they had ever heard it. And ahead of it all, the steel blades of the rotary plow spun at a blinding rate and led the charge toward the castle.

The plow itself looked like a train with the mouth of a caterpillar. Designed to eat snow too deep for a blade, the locomotive was given teeth by a power driven ten foot steel disk. With this monster, followed by the weight of a locomotive and an entire train, Jerry was sure they could get Kára’s bra open.

The plan was that simple. Steal a train and run it through a castle wall. The three men in the cab would jump clear of the inevitable carnage as the army charged across the open field in the resulting confusion. They would then all pass through the Valkyrie’s cleavage and take the castle back from the evil prince, and he still couldn’t believe he had to make a plan like that.

The train burst from the edge of the forest at a speed the engine had never seen, and Jerry pulled on the whistle for several long blasts. He smiled at Kyle who was not amused. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Fine,” Jerry said and stepped aside. “You can have your turn.”

Kyle chuckled, “Thanks,” and pulled on the whistle. A smile grew across his face.

“My turn next, Kyle,” said JJ who rang the bell while he waited for his turn.

“It’s important to enjoy your work,” Jerry said as he leaned out the door and looked at the castle wall through a pair of binoculars he had retrieved from the truck when he went for the weapons. He smiled. The confusion was beginning to take hold.

Knights lined the walls, shouting and pointing. There was no patterned movement. None ran for the mounted crossbows that lined the wall. A few unslung their rifles but looked to another knight to see if they should fire. Jerry smiled. It was Sir Erik.

They were two hundred yards out when the shooting started. It was hurried and didn’t last long before the men started scrambling from the wall. The shots never even touched the steel plate of the engine.

Jerry tapped Kyle on the shoulder and yelled over JJ’s turn at the whistle. “Time to go!”

Kyle tapped JJ on the shoulder to pass the message on.

JJ yelled at him. “It’s still my turn, jerk!”

“It’s time to jump, idiot.”

“Oh.” JJ gave the whistle one more blast and stepped to the door.

Jerry handed each a rifle as they stepped outside. He followed out into the cold.

When he looked at the ground, it was clear that the train was going faster than he had thought. It hadn’t seemed so fast on the High Line, and he had figured a little more speed wouldn’t be too bad, but now he really, really didn’t want to jump.

“You sure this won’t kill us?” Kyle screamed over the wind.

“No,” was all Jerry could answer. He pointed to the gate, “But I’m sure that will.” He took a long step and aimed for the softest piece of snow he could see in the blurring landscape.

The landing hurt like hell. The snow didn’t help as much as he hoped it would. He dropped the rifle as his feet hit and did his best to roll off the momentum. He found several rocks hidden by the snow. They bruised his arms and back and legs. The snow eventually stopped him and he sat up to look for the other two men.

JJ and Kyle were limping towards the holes in the snow that hid their guns. Relieved that everyone had lived up until this point, Jerry high-stepped back through the snow to his own rifle. In the distance he could see his army making their way up the tracks.

He turned back to the castle just in time to see the train plow into the Valkyrie’s chest.

Sparks flew fifty feet in the air and the steel of the plow scraped against the shipping containers. The flying white tigers bearing the Valkyrie were erased in that flash.

The engine steamed on and the containers buckled. Physics took over from there and the entire wall shifted as forty cars worth of force plowed through. The lower containers buckled. The wall collapsed towards the train, covering the wreckage and preventing any kind of entrance.

The knights climbed back on to the wrecked wall and began to seek defensive positions. Jerry could see Sir Erik issuing commands. Carter and the unnamed knight from the bus were a part of the loyal guard.

“What the hell, man?” JJ yelled. “It didn’t work.”

“It should have worked,” Jerry said. Sure, he didn’t know the math, but he figured one train would be able to take out one measly wall. But now that train sat beneath the wreckage.

“You told us you’d get us in!” Kyle screamed. “We believed you!”

“It should have worked!” Jerry screamed back as the bullets began to fly their way. How had a damn train running at full speed not open the gates? How would he get to Erica now? The snow jumped around their feet in tiny bursts just before the boiler exploded with the force of more than a ton of dynamite.

The blast knocked the three men off their feet and back into the snow. Wall and knights scattered away from the explosion and the bullets stopped.

Parts of the kingdom’s unbreakable defense began dropping in the snow between them and the town.

“He was right,” JJ said. “It worked.”

“May have been a little overkill,” said Kyle.

There was a cheer from behind them as the army rushed forward into the breach. They met no resistance and moved into the town. Jerry and the two mountain men who were supposed to be the first inside ran to catch up.

They hadn’t looked like much on the train. They hadn’t looked like much in the woods. But given the right motivation, a half-starved band of refugees made for a pretty impressive sight.

Jerry crossed through the wreckage of the train and the castle gates to see the army of mountain men earning the reputation the king had created for them. They fought like crazed woodsmen. They fought like cannibals.

The citizens ran. They had never been forced to fight for themselves before and they weren’t about to ruin a perfect record. Men and women fled from the streets. They ran into their homes and hid behind locked doors and drawn curtains leaving nothing but the knights to protect them.

Jerry was relieved to see the cowardice of the citizenry. Fewer people in the streets meant fewer casualties. Only the knights were left to face the rage of the woodsmen.

The king’s men met the invaders willingly. The knights fired from defensive positions designed to protect food stores, armories and the noblemen of the town. They found themselves frustrated in this as the army of woodsmen refused to play along.

Whenever the mountain men ran into guarded opposition, they simply moved on and found something else to shoot at. These invaders had no objective. They were storming the keep as expected. They weren’t targeting the warehouses. Their goals were chaos and confusion and they found it everywhere.

There was one target. If they could take the king, whoever he happened to be at the moment, the men beneath him would collapse. Jerry was sure of this. The king was all that mattered. But if he saw the Dog or Sir Dominic, he was going to shoot them, too.

The three men had stayed on the outskirts of town and worked their way north through the kingdom’s neighborhoods until they reached the edge of Cement Creek and were forced closer into town. Gunshots rang out two blocks over as the battle raged, but all was quiet for them. He’d been relieved that they made it this far into town without having fired a shot, but he could tell JJ was disappointed.

Jerry dropped behind a fence and peered around the corner. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see JJ with a furled brow. “What is it, JJ?”

“You told me I could shoot things.”

“You will.”

“I’d better.”

“You’ll get your chance in a few minutes. Look around this corner.”

The large woodsman peered around the corner. “What am I looking at?”

“Do you see the bell tower? That’s where the king is holding up. It will be well guarded. There’s going to be plenty to shoot at.”

“Then let’s go kill us a king.” JJ stepped around the corner.

Jerry grabbed him by a long scarf and pulled him back. “Not yet.”

JJ turned and knocked the rifle from Jerry’s hand. He threw the man against the fence and put a shotgun barrel under his chin. “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you.”

Kyle threw up his hands. “You see, JJ. This is why no one likes you.”

Jerry looked at Kyle. “This happens a lot, does it?”

“Well,” Kyle said, “stuff like this.”

Jerry looked JJ in the eye. There was a focus in an intelligent person’s eyes—a degree of sharpness that was directly related to how well they saw and understood the world around them. It told him how much a person would be willing to believe. He was pretty sure he could promise JJ a puppy and it would be enough. But it would seem mean. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, JJ. I’m really good at this kind of thing.”

“You just seem like a lot of talk so far.”

Kyle tapped JJ on the shoulder. “Um, JJ, he’s got a gun pointed at your stomach.”

“The hell he does,” JJ said. “He hasn’t moved.”

“And one at your junk.”

JJ looked down and saw the twin Colt .45s aimed just like Kyle said. He lowered the shotgun. “Please don’t shoot my junk.”

“I don’t want to shoot anyone’s junk. It makes me uncomfortable to even talk about it.”

JJ backed away and Kyle tried to change the subject back to overthrowing the kingdom. “So what do we do?”

Jerry leaned back around the fence and surveyed the area. There was a garage across the street from the courthouse that housed old construction equipment. From there they would have to cross the street and the courthouse lawn, which meant spending a lot of time as a target.

JJ whispered, “I think he was really going to shoot my junk.”

Kyle shushed him. “I think you’re right.”

JJ stayed shushed for only a second. “I like my junk.”

“Don’t we all? Now shut up.”

“You like my junk?”

“No, I mean I like my … shut up, JJ!”

Jerry ducked back behind the fence. “We’re too exposed here. There’s a building complex north of the courthouse. We should be able to get closer from there. If we get in the creek and stay low and close to the bank, we should be able to get there without being seen. From there we can storm the castle.” Jerry hung his head. This place was so dumb. He couldn’t wait to get Erica and get out of there.

“Then shooting, right?” JJ asked.

“Then shooting, JJ.”

The three men worked their way back to the edge of Cement Creek and stepped down the shallow bank. It wasn’t much to hide behind, but they stayed as low as they could and made their way upstream.

The creek passed under a bridge. From there they could see the courthouse and some of the fight being waged in the street. Several of the king’s men were firing down Elias Street from behind an overturned car.

JJ smiled and climbed and readied his gun.

Jerry shook his head.

“But, they’re right there. And they’re not even looking.”

“You’re going to shoot them in the back?” Kyle asked.

“I’m not going to ask them to turn around.”

“You can’t kill them,” Jerry said. “They’re too far away.”

“No shit. That’s what the gun’s for.”

“You’d want a rifle for that, JJ.”

JJ looked at the gun in his hands. “What’s this?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “That’s a shotgun, moron.”

JJ slapped the gun with the back of his hand. “Well, I don’t want this then.”

“Then why’d you pick it?” Kyle asked.

“It looked cool.”

Jerry moved up on the creek bed until the group was behind the building complex neighboring the courthouse. He moved up behind one of the buildings, peered around the corner and waved to the other two men to follow.

He ran to another building before they caught up and repeated the maneuver until he could see the entrance and the five guards in front of it. JJ and Kyle arrived next to him and put their backs against the wall.

Jerry spoke softly but did not whisper. He did not want to be misunderstood. “There are five knights in front of that door. Each is armed and ready to kill. Are you two ready for this?”

Kyle nodded his answer. JJ grinned.

“I’ll step out first and take the two on the left and work my way right. JJ start on the right and work your way in.”

The big man’s grin grew even bigger.

“Kyle, you focus on the middle. After that take anything left standing.”

The two men nodded.

“Let’s go.” Jerry stepped away from the building and swung wide, giving the men behind him room to get clear. He dropped the knight on the left before they could respond, targeted the man to his right. He pulled the trigger twice and put him down. The knight in the middle had raised his gun but fell before he could aim. The one next to him had the stock to his shoulder before feeling the impact of two of Jerry’s bullets.

Kyle and JJ came around the corner. JJ screamed a battle cry as Jerry dropped the final knight at the door.

JJ kept screaming and waved the barrel of the shotgun looking for anything to shoot. His war cry turned into profanity when he realized there was nothing left to point his gun at. “Aaaaaaaaahdammmit!”

Kyle looked at the fallen guards. “Damn, you are good at this.”

Jerry said nothing and crossed the lawn to the door of the courthouse. He examined the knights quickly and didn’t recognize any of them. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. “Are you guys ready?” He turned around and found JJ holding one of the knight’s rifles by the barrel.

“This is a rifle, right?”

“Yes,” Kyle said.

JJ strapped it across his back and picked up another. “And this?”

Jerry nodded. “Also a rifle.”

“Good.” He dropped the shotgun on the ground and started back towards the neighboring buildings.

Kyle ran to stop him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going back to the creek.”

“But …”

Jerry waved Kyle back over. “Let him go, Kyle. We could use the distraction.”

Kyle shrugged and joined Jerry on the steps of the courthouse. They nodded to one another and stepped inside the door. Once the prince was captured, he could get Erica back.

TWENTY-FIVE

They had heard the train crash and the explosion. The boom bounced off the five peaks and played on for a while. It stopped all of them mid-stride. Even Chewy’s ears perked up.

“What was that?” Erica had stopped running and turned toward the sound.

“They probably blew the mine,” Brae said. “Shane always told me the mine was wired to blow in case there was an uprising. Kings hate uprisings.”

“If it was in the mine, do you think we’d hear it like that?”

“I don’t know. But obviously we did. Come on. We have to keep moving.”

They’d run for miles. Erica wasn’t unaccustomed to it, but the terrain made her legs weak as they dodged trees and ran over hills. They had dashed down the mountain and made their way to the Animas. The trio had followed the river until finding a shallow enough place to cross. Her feet were still numb from the water. Now they ran through the forest like rabbits scurrying from prey.

She could barely catch her breath, but managed a gasping, “Are we almost there?”

Brae slowed and panted for a moment before she could even answer. She gave up and nodded the response. The girl put her hands on her hips and stumbled on.

Erica and Chewy followed her into a clearing where Brae opened her arms, smiled and collapsed to the ground. “This is it,” she managed as she heaved breaths full of cold air.

Erica found a rock that had managed to keep the snow off and sat. She put her hands on her knees and leaned back to breathe. The sun was losing its power over the trees. It would be dark soon.

“Come here, Hannah,” Brae clicked her tongue and called to Chewy.

As the dog answered the call, Erica began to wonder if the dog had learned her alias or would simply go to anyone willing to pet her.

Brae wrapped her arms around the tired animal and gave her a big hug. “You’re such a sweet girl. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

Chewy licked at the girl’s face causing her to laugh.

Erica laughed, too. “She really likes you.”

Brae smiled and stood. “I know.” Brae stepped away from the mastiff. “She’s as dumb as you are.”

Chewy began to growl and Erica noticed that Brae had slipped a rope around the dog’s neck during the hug. She started to stand.

“Don’t bother, Erica,” Brae said as she pulled a gun from behind her back.

Erica’s hope sank as she sighed her disappointment at the situation.

Brae smiled and called into the woods, “Dom!”

There was the crunching of snow from somewhere beyond the clearing and one of the knights stepped out from behind a tree.

The man had dark hair and a darker smile. “You got her.”

“Of course I’ve got her. I told you she trusted me.”

“You bitch,” Erica said.

“Don’t be mad at me. It’s not my fault you’re gullible. You bought my story right from the start.”

Erica shook her head. How had she fallen for this? She didn’t trust anyone. But the town and this girl—everything had worked together to get her to let her guard down. “How much of it’s true?”

“Let’s see.” Brae put a finger to her lip and paced around the clearing. “I’ve told you so much, it’s kind of hard to keep track.”

“Did you know Jerry from before?”

“Well, that part is true. Except, I fibbed a little. I dumped him. And he never got over it. If we’d have had more time here, I’m sure he would have dropped you in a week. He could never get enough of me.”

Erica hung her head.

Brae laughed. “See, Dom? I told you she’d believe anything.”

Dom laughed as well.

“I saw your pictures, stupid. Everyone is looking for you.”

“Are you even really a whore?” Erica smiled back and saw the flash of anger she was hoping for.

“Oh, that part’s true,” Dominic said and began to laugh even harder.

Brae turned and screamed at the knight but kept the gun leveled at Erica. “Shut up, you pig!”

In two giant steps, Sir Dominic crossed the clearing and backhanded Brae into the snow.

Erica tried to leap, but Dom covered her instantly with his own gun. He shook his head at his prisoner but spoke to the girl on the ground. “Don’t let your tongue get you into any more trouble, whore. This is your big chance. You don’t want to screw it up now.”

Brae wanted to sob. Erica could see it on her face. But she’d spent too many years pretending to be tough to let that happen. She rose from the ground and found a seat. She kept the gun leveled at Erica.

Chewy strained at the rope until it began to choke her. The mighty dog reluctantly sat and growled with less intensity.

“So, what’s next? You just wait for the boys to show up and jump Jerry? It won’t work.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Brae cooed and looked at Dom. “The boys are dead. Nobody is coming.”

Erica looked at the knight. “What is she talking about?”

Brae didn’t let him answer. “The Dog killed the princess and left Shane and Jerry in a town full of crazed cannibals between two armies that would be trying to kill them.” She shook her head. “They’re not coming back.”

Erica tilted her head. Now was the perfect time to stop believing this whore.

Brae insisted, “It’s true.”

“So what’s all of this about? Without Jerry, they’ll never pay.”

Brae shrugged. “Half is better than none.”

“What happened to this girls stick together shit?”

“Oh, we’ll stick together, E. All the way back east.”

“Don’t expect me to do your hair.”

“You’re so funny, E. I always liked that about you.”

Erica would normally sit in silence, but the smug look on Brae’s face drove her to talk.

“I don’t believe you.”

Brae gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. What will I do?”

“If Shane was dead, you’d be in tears. Unless you’re just a cold heartless bitch.”

Brae chuckled. “You were thinking I was the hooker with a heart of gold?”

“If Jerry was dead, you wouldn’t be sitting around here waiting to spring a trap.”

Brae beamed a smile Erica wanted to put a fist through. “We’re not waiting to spring a trap.”

Dominic sat on another rock well away from the snarling dog. “We’re waiting for someone.”

TWENTY-SIX

Blood mixed with purple tunics in heaps on the floor. There had been enough knights waiting inside the courthouse to empty the rifle magazines three times and enough left over that Kyle had to start shooting as well.

Jerry dropped the empty rifle and drew a .45 from inside his coat. He pulled the hammer back and stepped around the corner towards the great hall. The doors to the chamber were open. There was no guard at the entrance.

“Do you think he ran?” Kyle asked.

He didn’t think so. The gunfire outside was getting closer and closer to the building and it couldn’t all be JJ. The prince could have fled within the building. But he couldn’t picture the kid giving up the throne that easily. “We’re just going to have to look and see.”

“You should totally do that,” Kyle agreed and waved a hand toward the door.

“You’re not coming?”

“Oh, I’ll come, but you should go first.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very sure. You should.”

“Because it’s usually the second guy in the door that gets shot,” Jerry explained.

“Really? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Really. It happens all the time. Are you sure you don’t want to go first?”

Kyle looked down the hall at the open doors and back to Jerry. “No, it’s fine. He’s … he’s probably not even in there, right?”

“No. I think he’s in there. And I’m pretty sure he’s got his Dog with him.”

“What kind of dog?”

“No, the Dog is a man. He’s the prince’s Dog. That’s what they call him.”

“Why? Did he piss on the prince’s rug?” Kyle asked with a smile.

“That’s not funny, Kyle.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just saying that there are probably no less than two men in there waiting to shoot anything that comes through that door. And I just want you to make sure you want me to go first.”

“I …”

“I wasn’t done yet,” Jerry said.

“Sorry.”

“Knowing full well that it’s usually the second person through the door that gets shot at. Because I’m not going to feel guilty.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“And you still want me to go first?” Jerry asked slowly.

“Yes. I think …,” Kyle thought some more, “… I think I do. Yes.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Jerry looked into his eyes. There was the sharpness that he couldn’t find in JJ’s earlier. Kyle was bright enough to think things through. He had thought this through and figured Jerry was wrong. There would be no convincing him, so he nodded and turned towards the door.

He began to pick up speed. He wasn’t lying. It was almost always the second guy through the door that drew the gunfire. Almost always. Jerry sprinted to the doorway at an angle and slid across the polished marble floor, only it wasn’t that polished and he didn’t actually slide. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the doorway and looked into the throne room. The prince sat on the throne. The Dog stood before it with two revolvers drawn.

The Dog laughed and raised the weapons to fire.

Jerry said, “Shit,” and tried to kick his way to cover.

Kyle screamed as he came around the corner.

The Dog fired twice and knocked Kyle to the ground.

Jerry got his feet under him enough to dive in the courtroom’s audience seating. Blue fabric and white foam exploded all around him as the Dog turned the guns on him.

Kyle moaned and got to his feet long enough to collapse behind what little cover the chairs offered. He left a trail of blood behind him as he dragged his way towards the wall. He bumped a chair and the chirp it made drew a moment’s gunfire from the Dog.

Jerry jumped to his feet and began to fire back.

The Dog dropped to the ground and slid behind the partition that separated the audience and the court.

Jerry fired at the wooden panel trying to guess where the Dog would be. Wood splintered and cracked and he blasted several holes along its length.

The prince hadn’t moved. He sat laughing in his throne.

Jerry kept an eye on the young man, but he made no move for a weapon. He didn’t move at all. He kept his hands on the arms of the throne and a smile on his face.

The Dog’s voice was ragged but it carried fine in the courtroom. “I must admit I’m a little surprised to see you again. I can’t even begin to imagine how you made it back here.”

“I caught the 10:20 from Durango,” Jerry said and loaded a fresh magazine into the Colt.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t remember your name.”

He didn’t? He had to be lying. He had to know who he was.

“I do remember telling you, you might be worth a bullet.”

“I’m touched.”

“I’m thinking I was wrong.” The Dog’s hand appeared around the corner of the partition briefly as he slid an object down the center aisle of the courtroom.

It came to a stop a few feet from Jerry. The sword wasn’t ornate. It wasn’t designed to hang on the wall of a study or man cave. The scabbard was built to be functional. Jerry suspected the blade was built to kill.

“I think I’d rather kill you up close where I can see you.”

“I see. You must be out of ammo.”

Another volley of gunfire tore up the chairs around him and Jerry dropped flat to the floor. Once the firing stopped, he heard the empty casing dropped to the floor. “Nope. I’ve got plenty of bullets. I just want to remember this.”

Jerry looked over to Kyle. The man wasn’t moving. If the Dog or prince tried something while he was unarmed, Jerry would be on his own. He looked at the sword and the gun in his hand. He sighed. He had to end this quickly.

“All right,” Jerry said. “I’ll kill you up close.”

The Dog laughed. It was a terrifying laugh—full of humor but devoid of life.

Jerry crawled to the sword and pulled it to him. He rose slowly.

The Dog stood from behind the partition with his guns at his side. The man was a beast and the sword on his back could reach him from halfway across the room. Jerry didn’t stand a chance.

The two men held out their guns, barrels to the wall and dropped them at the same time.

The Dog walked to the base of the throne and pulled the massive broadsword from his back. Swinging it around his head, the thrum of the blade caught the acoustics of the room and boomed. The Dog brought the blade back over his shoulder and waved for his opponent to approach.

Jerry pulled the scabbard from the sword and threw it into the row of chairs. He tested the weight of the sword in his hand. It wasn’t for show. It was for killing and nothing else. Jerry set the sword in his left hand and flourished the blade. He then stepped towards the Dog, drew the other .45 and put two bullets in the brute’s chest.

The man was still standing when Jerry reached him, but all the fight and most of the life was gone out of him. The man in black dropped the broadsword as Jerry arrived at the base of the throne.

“I figured I’d just go ahead and waste the bullet.” He fired once more, pushed the man to the ground and pointed the gun at the prince.

The prince jumped and tried to stand but he put his head through the ceiling tile. His crown fell from the throne while he tried to get out of the ceiling. He sat back down and quickly scooted a few steps down the throne. Once free of the roof, he stood and shouted, “Don’t shoot.”

Jerry shot him in the right shoulder.

The impact and the prince’s flinch threw him over the arm of the throne and brought him crashing to the ground. He stood on shaky legs and tried to get his bearings.

“Where is she?” Jerry shouted.

The prince oriented himself and turned to face Jerry with a stunned look on his face. “Who?” he asked.

Jerry fired again. It was the right arm again. The bone would be ruined. He would never shake hands properly again. “Stop shooting me!”

“Where is she?” Jerry screamed. “Where is Erica?

The prince moved to his right and began to whine. “I don’t know who Erica is! Please stop shooting me.”

Jerry put another bullet in the left arm. “Where’s Jennifer?”

The prince fell back against the wall but stayed on his feet. He was now in tears. “Why are you looking for all these women?” The prince drifted to his right, leaving a trail of blood on the wood panels.

“Where’s my wife?!”

“I don’t know who you are!” the prince cried and rounded the corner. “You’re the miner from the train. I don’t know your family tree!” He slid along the wall until he was standing in front of the tapestry.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Shaking his head violently, the prince took half a step back.

“How can you not know?” Jerry asked.

Prince Robert’s face twisted in pain as his chest puffed out. He tried to grab at his heart but his arms were useless. A silver blade shot a foot through his ribs. The prince’s face went slack and he collapsed to the ground. The sword stuck through his back pulled the tapestry with him, revealing the doorway.

“Because I never told him.” Elias’s large frame filled the doorway. A knight stood on each side of him with a rifle leveled at Jerry’s chest.

Jerry had never lowered the gun and he wasn’t about to. He made this clear by leaning closer to the king who was now looking down the barrel.

Elias didn’t move. “Erica is safe. She took refuge in the woods. My men saw where she entered and they can take you there.”

Jerry lowered his gun. “I’m pretty sure I don’t owe you a thank you.”

“No. You need to thank that buffalo of yours. She found us in the mines. She and a woman named Brae. She’s with her now.”

Brae! Erica couldn’t know not to trust her. “She isn’t safe. Take me to her now.”

Elias looked surprised, but he didn’t hesitate. “These men will go with you. Go, now.” He gestured for the two knights to lower their guns and stepped aside to let Jerry through the passageway.

“You shouldn’t have killed him. He could have confessed and stopped the war with Rodney.”

“No,” said Elias. “I’ll talk to Rodney. Even if it means my life.” He looked at the dead man on the floor in front of him. “I like the prince better this way.”

Jerry turned to the knights. “Show me.”

They raced out of the building into the snow and he followed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

There was the sound of an engine in the woods and the crunch of rubber tires on snow. It was the first sound she’d heard since the explosion.

“He’s here.” Dominic stood and cast a glance towards the noise.

The engine died and a car door opened. It shut a moment later and there was the lighter sound of boots in the snow. Mr. Christopher stepped into view a moment later. He stared at Erica for a long moment and smiled before speaking. “Where’s the other one?”

“Dead,” Sir Dominic answered.

“Dead?” Mr. Christopher walked through the clearing and took a seat on a fallen tree. “Dead wasn’t the deal.”

Dominic didn’t flinch. “That’s how it played out.”

Mr. Christopher spoke again to the knight but never took his eyes off of Erica. “You have the head?”

“He was left for dead,” Dominic explained. “No one could have made it out of there alive.”

Mr. Christopher smiled. “Then he’s alive.”

“There’s no way …”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Dominic, for being so rude to disagree, but Erica here and I know this man much better than you do. And he’s not dead until his body is buried or burned.” He turned towards the knight. “And, quite honestly, I’m not even sure that will stop him.”

“Sir Dominic, if you don’t mind. And I’m telling you, he’s dead.”

Erica saw Mr. Christopher roll his eyes before correcting the knight. “And I’m telling you that there is smoke coming from your castle and gunfire coming from inside the walls. These are his trademarks of a sort. So you can tell me all day that he’s dead, but I’m not going to believe it until I have his severed head in my hands.”

Sir Dominic was at a loss for words. He was trying to speak, but he had nothing but an empty mouth.

“Don’t you agree, Erica?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll see him again.”

Mr. Christopher smiled at her. It was a horrific smile, appearing kind, sweet and gentle. But she knew there was no humanity behind it. His calm demeanor and proper diction were the hallmarks of a gentleman, but there was nothing but monster inside.

“Good,” Brae broke the silence. “That means we can still get the full reward.”

“The full reward?” Mr. Christopher asked. “But you only did half the work.”

“We brought you the girl,” Dominic said. “If what you say is true, he’ll come for her.”

“It still seems I’m doing most of the work.” Mr. Christopher stood and turned to face his accomplices. “I think it would only be fair if we renegotiated the terms.”

Brae took the gun off of Erica and pointed it at the man in the white suit. “I think we stick with the original terms.”

Mr. Christopher shook his head. “No guns.”

“Oh, I’m afraid so,” Brae said and pulled the hammer back on her revolver.

“Do it quietly.” Mr. Christopher turned to them and smiled at Erica once more.

Chewy had lain quietly, letting out only the occasional growl whenever Brae or Dom had wandered too close to Erica. Now she jumped to her feet and began to bark.

Two men dressed in white snowsuits stepped out from behind the trees and rushed Dominic and Brae before the couple could react.

Brae died with her skull caved in and her lifeless eyes open towards Erica.

Dominic turned to fight and took a knife in the stomach and an axe head to the neck.

Mr. Christopher pulled a leather pouch from inside his jacket and tossed it to the two men. “You’ve redeemed yourselves, gentlemen.”

The two men removed the white hoods that had kept them concealed in the woods. Erica recognized them as men from the mob in the marketplace. One of them winked at her.

Mr. Christopher moved behind her and bound her hands with a tie wrap that was too thick to snap.

Chewy struggled at the end of the rope. It tightened around her neck but she refused to stop pulling. The rope was taut enough to strike a note.

Mr. Christopher lifted Erica to her feet and pushed her towards the car. “We’re in for a long ride together, Miss Erica. I can’t wait to hear your life’s story.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get all the way to the end. It’s going to be a little longer than yours.”

He ignored the remark and reached inside his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to one of the men. “Kill the dog. Put this in its collar.”

“No!” Erica screamed and tried to rush towards Chewy.

The dog was at the edge of its breath trying to get to her.

“And no noise,” Mr. Christopher said. “I’ll be listening. I’m going to need a head start.”

The two men nodded and drew their knives.

Erica broke free of Christopher’s hold and dashed towards Chewy. She wasn’t sure what hit her, but she collapsed in the snow inches from the dog. The last thing she felt was Chewy’s tongue on her face.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Jerry heard the barking. He heard the screams. He heard an engine turn over and left the knights behind.

They had led him to the trail and now he only occasionally glanced at the footprints in the snow as he raced towards the sound of his true love screaming like he’d never heard.

Branches slapped him in the face and tore at his arms, but he pressed on, moving so fast that he turned every slip on the snowy ground into forward progress. There was more barking and more screaming. This time it came from men. He couldn’t run any faster so he ran harder. Every footstep crushed through the snow and found the ground beneath.

He entered the clearing to find blood and bodies everywhere. Brae was dead. Dominic was dead and lying in a pool of his own blood. Another man’s face was missing and a trail of blood led out the other side of the clearing.

Chewy lay at the end of a rope in a mound of red snow. He could see her labored breathing in puffs of mist rising from her snout.

He dropped to his knees and slid to her side.

The rope that held her to the tree was cutting into her neck. He pulled a knife from his belt and worked furiously to cut it free.

“God, let it just be the rope.”

The last few strands snapped from the tension and he worked the noose from around her neck. Her fur was wet with blood. Her face was covered in blood so fresh that it was still red and not yet sticky to the touch. He hugged her and felt her body for any other wounds. She was so wet from the snow that he couldn’t tell.

Quickly the breath returned to her. The mastiff stood and turned her nose on him. It was warm beneath the blood.

“Are you okay, girl?”

Chewy barked and hacked. She bounced away a few feet and turned to make sure Jerry was following her.

He was back on his feet and running after her as the dog ran out of the clearing. The pair ran out of the woods to a logging trail. There was no sign of the vehicle but the smell of diesel hung in the air.

Jerry dropped his head and fell to his knees. Erica was gone.

Chewy barked quietly and seemed to sense the defeat. She walked back over to Jerry and sat down next to him. She put her bloody head in his lap and looked up at him with sad eyes.

He must have sat on the trail for five minutes before he heard the knights arrive in the clearing. They recognized the girl and the former Sir Dominic. They didn’t know the third man. Who could without a face to recognize him by?

He let them gasp in horror. He let them try to piece together what happened. He sat in the road with his dog’s head in his lap while they followed the trail of blood into the woods.

He didn’t move until one of the knights dropped a sheet of paper in his lap and said, “There’s a note for you.”

It was covered in blood but still legible. The penmanship was neat and precise and easy to read:

Jerry,

I figure it’s time for you to chase me for a while.

See you soon.

Mr. Christopher

Jerry stood. He looked at the note one last time and let it fall to the ground. He turned back to the castle and called to his dog.

She followed.

- THE END -

* * * *

The Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warrior
will return in Pursuit of the Apocalypse.

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OTHER WORKS
by Benjamin Wallace

DUCK & COVER ADVENTURES

Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors: A Duck & Cover Adventure
Last Band of the Apocalypse: A Duck & Cover Adventurette
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Terrors of Tesla (The Bulletproof Adventures of Damian Stockwell)

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The Big Book of Dumb White Husband

Dumb White Husbands vs. Zombies: The Zomnibus
The Dumb White Husband’s Guide to Babies

other books

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UnCivil: The Immortal Engine
UnCivil: Vanderbilt’s Behemoth

short stories
How to Host an Intervention
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Pilgrim (A Short Story)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Benjamin Wallace lives in Texas where he complains about the heat.

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Table of Contents

- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT