Highway To Armageddon Read online

  “I hope that missed Caesar,” Boom Boom says, her back against one of the massive iron legs of the assembly line. “We need to take him down alive.”

  I nod in the darkness. This is the reason Krystal and I allowed ourselves to be captured in the first place. Maxwell thought we were after him. What an idiot. His $100,000 bounty would maybe cover our expenses for a couple months. We need a more lucrative reward… like the one million dollar bounty sitting on Caesar’s head.

  “We’ll help Krystal in a minute.” Boom Boom uploads another round of ammo into her machine gun. “First we need to clear the weeds.”

  Boom Boom fires into the rear of the factory. Bullet casings cascade out of the gun and clatter to the ground. Some of them bounce into my leg.

  I snatch a handgun from Boom Boom’s utility belt and fire off several shots of my own. Since I don’t have any goggles on I have no idea if I’m hitting anyone, but it makes me feel useful.

  “Where did you get the machine gun?” I shout over the roar of gunfire.

  “From the guard I killed on the roof!” Boom Boom replies

  “Oh,” is my response.

  Caesar’s goons suddenly stop firing. Boom Boom peeks over the top of the assembly line and curses. “Crap, they’re getting away!

  Boom Boom dashes over to Krystal and snaps her chains with the wire-cutter.

  “Took you all long enough!” Krystal cries as soon as she’s free. “I saw my life flash before my eyes. I never realized how horrible it was!”

  “Let’s roll,” Boom Boom growls.

  We sprint toward the back exit, hopping over crumpled bodies lying in puddles of blood. Most of the gangbangers are dead. A few are not.

  I shouldn’t feel queasy hearing the shot-up mobsters moan in agony. They’ve raped, tortured, and killed countless people. A lot of them were around my age. Some were younger. Still, I hate seeing people in pain. I block out the screams and keep running.

  We reach the back of the factory and skid to a stop. The back door is wide open, but I’m hesitant to dash outside. We could be heading into an ambush.

  “Can you see what’s going on?” I ask, gasping for air.

  “No,” Boom Boom grumbles. “I’m not getting a signal from our mosquito. I think it got destroyed in the crossfire.”

  We cautiously step outside. I swing my gun toward the right and Boom Boom swings hers toward the left. Krystal stays in the back since she’s not armed.

  “Oh crap, I think that’s them!” Boom Boom points toward a dozen insanely expensive Lightning XL convertibles zooming off toward the horizon.

  “Look, an extra car!” Krystal shouts, running toward a Lightning XL parked about 100 feet from us.

  “Krystal, get back here!” Boom Boom shouts.

  Krystal ignores her and opens the front door. “Wait, what’s that beeping sound?”

  “It’s a car bomb!” Boom Boom cries. “Get away from it!”

  “Aww hell!” Krystal runs toward us like a woman possessed. Boom Boom and I dash away from the car as fast as we can. A split-second later a deafening explosion sends us all flying through the air, colliding into the walls of another abandoned building.

  It takes me a few seconds to regain my bearings. The ringing in my ears drowns out all other sounds. I lift my head and stare in horror at the raging fireball that used to be a $200,000 car. Krystal is about a dozen yards away from me, face-down on the ground.

  “Krystal…,” I grumble, crawling to my hands and knees.

  “Krystal?” Boom Boom cries, kneeling over her prone body. “KRYSTAL!”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. “Is she…”

  Krystal coughs and pushes herself up.

  “Krystal!” Boom Boom and I exclaim at the same time.

  Krystal sits up and shakes her head. “I am getting too old for this crap. I need a new job.”

  “You and me both,” I say with a sigh.

  We all sit down on the ground and look up at the sky. By now Caesar and his goons are long gone. Even if we found another car to steal, we’d never catch up to them.

  “Well guys, our dream of taking a couple years off from bounty hunting just went down the toilet,” Boom Boom says. “I guess it’s back to picking up small-time crooks.”

  “We have bigger problems than that,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” Boom Boom asks.

  “Caesar isn’t going to forget what we tried to do. He’s going to come after us.”

  Krystal and Boom Boom nod solemnly. They know I’m right.

  We just signed our own death sentences.

  Chapter Four: Boom Boom

  I look out at the countryside as Lance speeds along at nearly 60 miles an hour. The cool breeze blows my hair back, and the air is still full of moisture from yesterday’s storm. The fresh country air does wonders in calming my nerves.

  I yawn and stretch my arms. We’ve been driving for what feels like forever. After our botched apprehension of Caesar last night, we stole a car from some shady junkyard. It’s not a flying car, of course, so we have to drive it the old fashioned way. It makes me feel sorry for my ancestors. Flying is so much faster.

  We drove for a couple hours last night before stopping at a rundown motel for some much-needed rest. None of us got much sleep, though. The motel was crawling with bed bugs, Krystal swore she saw a mouse, the beds were covered in stains (I don’t even want to know what kind), and we were constantly jerked awake by an unending cacophony of gunfire and police sirens. We left at the crack of dawn and have been driving ever since; all the way up Ohio, through southeast Michigan, across the bridge to Canada, and all the way up toward Sanctuary 7, outside the ruins of Toronto.

  The overcast sky is growing darker and darker with each passing second, alluding to the coming dusk. Lance turns on his headlights to illuminate the darkened street.

  “You can tell we’re close now. We’re starting to run into traffic,” Lance says.

  I look around and sure enough, there are several cars off in the distance. A few speed past us on the opposite side of the road. There are even more cars up in the sky.

  We drive for a little while longer. Pretty soon the massive walls of Sanctuary 7 pop up over the horizon.

  By now we’re driving past the hundreds of thousands of tents and stick huts that make up the Sanctuary 7 slums. Even though it’s dark, tens of thousands of people stand off to the side of the road, peddling trinkets, produce, and home-made clothing. Several outdoor bazaars are cram-packed with people. Children sit off to the side, begging for money. I have to look away. Otherwise I’ll break down and cry if I’m forced to look into their emaciated faces.

  Some of the people walk across the street, completely oblivious to oncoming traffic. Lance constantly slams on the brakes, causing us to lurch forward in our seats. Krystal curses up a storm, but Lance keeps his cool. He knows these people have it rough, and he has no desire to add to their suffocating misery.

  I shake my head in wonder at all the people that are out and about. The Sanctuary houses about a million people, but the population of the slums is estimated to be well over ten times that. Sometimes I wonder why people choose to live here. Crime is nearly 100-times more prevalent outside the Sanctuary walls than it is on the inside, and the poverty rate is a staggering 99%. But I do suppose it is slightly safer in the slums of a Sanctuary city than it is in a non-Sanctuary city (like Cincinnati).

  Speaking of the Sanctuary, it’s now beginning to tower over us. I look up at the walled city in wonder. It never ceases to amaze me. The Sanctuary walls were made to be impregnable, and for the most part they are. They’re well over 1,000-feet high and 100 feet thick. They’re made out of some weird, nearly indestructible compound that’s supposed to be stronger than pure diamond. Thousands of cannons and machine guns jut out of the walls, read to vaporize any army stupid enough to attempt an invasion. Hundreds of guards line the top of the wall. And of course there are thousands of hidden cameras keeping an eye on the surrou
nding slums.

  There are only four heavily-defended entrances to Sanctuary 7, and they’re all tunnels that lead underground. No one is permitted to fly over the city walls. If any vehicle flies too close, it will be blasted out of the sky.

  We’re now only a few miles from the entrance to the underground tunnel, and traffic is already backed up. Lance tries to speed up to close the gap between us and the car we’re behind, but he’s too slow. A flying car drops right in front of us, nearly clipping our front bumper. Lance curses up a storm and lays into the horn. The driver in front of us sticks his hand out the window and gives us the finger.

  When we’re about a mile from the Sanctuary, traffic essentially stalls. We now have to wait as each and every car in front of us is searched by the guards at the checkpoint. And of course there are always a few people who forget the password, which holds us up even longer. Those unfortunate people are usually taken away for further questioning.

  I totally understand why the guards are so cautious; the last thing any of us want is a Canadian or Chinese terrorist smuggling explosives behind the Sanctuary walls. Still, it’s a major pain in the ass having to go through this every time we leave or enter the city.

  After about an hour we finally reach the checkpoint at the front entrance. There are four booths lined up in front of the tunnel. All four booths are covered in bullet-proof glass, and each booth has an armed guard inside. Two of the booths straddle the entrance part of the tunnel, and the other two straddle the exit.

  After the jerk who cut us off is waved through, we take his place in between the two guards. A silver, Frisbee shaped robot hovers over us, beeping and blinking its little red light. After it realizes we are not smuggling in chemical, biological, or nuclear weapons, the robot flies back on top of one of the checkpoint booths, waiting for the next car.

  The guard on our left leans out of her booth and smiles. It’s Becky, a good friend of ours who lives in our apartment complex. She’s in her early 20s, but she likes to hang out with us because she thinks we’re ‘cool’. (Her words, not mine.)

  “Hey guys,” Becky says, brushing her auburn bangs out of her eyes.

  “Hey Becky. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” Lance says, doing his best ‘player’ impersonation. I see him smiling in his car door mirror. He just can’t help but hit on girls. I think it’s in his DNA.

  “What’s crack-a-lackin’, Becky?” Krystal blurts. She and Becky do a fist bump and some crazy handshake I’ll never be able to replicate, even if I spent hours studying it.

  “I’m having a party next Friday. You guys should totally come. My friends love you!” Becky says excitedly.

  “Sounds like a blast,” Lance says. “We’ll try to make it as long as the ole ball and chain over here lets us.”

  Lance jabs his thumb at me, which I immediately smack away.

  “Yeah Boom Boom, don’t book us a mission that night,” Krystal growls. “You always make us miss fun things.”

  “Well excuse me for making sure we have enough money to pay our bills,” I snap.

  Lance, Krystal and I suddenly start bickering. Becky laughs and says, “You guys crack me up.”

  The guy behind us honks his horn. The guard in the other booth looks up from his holographic computer screen and says, “Wrap it up, Becky. You’re holding up traffic.”

  Becky frowns. “Okay guys, you know the rules. What’s the password?”

  Even though we’ve known Becky for years, we still have to go through the same security clearances as everyone else. I’m sure cameras are watching her. If she doesn’t follow proper Sanctuary security protocol, she’ll be in huge trouble.

  “Crap, I always forget this one,” Lance grumbles, stroking his chin. “It starts with an S, I know that much. And it’s some lame battle from World War 2. Uh… Stalker…? Silo-grad…?”

  I sigh and say, “It’s Stalingrad! It’s been the same password for two weeks now!”

  “Whatever,” Lance says nonchalantly. His carefree attitude really irks me sometimes.

  “Don’t worry, Lance, you won’t have to remember Stalingrad any longer,” Becky says, glancing at her holographic computer screen. “Starting tomorrow the password is Passchendaele.”

  “What?” Lance and Krystal shout simultaneously.

  “It’s a major battle from World War 1,” I say matter-of-factly.

  “Your nerdy ass would know that,” Krystal says. Lance snorts as he tries to stifle his laughter. I simply narrow my eyes and scowl.

  Becky goes on to ask where we’re coming from. Lance and Krystal give a quick rehash of our mission. They don’t go into too much detail, though, probably because the jackass behind us keeps honking his horn.

  While my partners are talking, Becky pulls up our files on her holographic computer. I’ve done this enough to know what she’s doing. She’s cross-referencing the reason we gave for leaving the Sanctuary. If our reasons for leaving and entering don’t match up, we’re pulled into a room for further interrogation. I’ve never had to endure it myself, but from what I’ve heard it’s not particularly pleasant. Like I said, the Sanctuaries take safety very seriously. It’s why people pay thousands of dollars a month just to live on the streets.

  The guy behind us lays into his horn again. It’s his loudest and longest honk yet.

  “Quit your yakking and move!” the guy shouts, his fiery red face poking out of his window. “I have a freaking wedding to go to!”

  The guard in the other booth flaps his wrist. “Seriously guys, wrap it up. You’re inducing road rage.”

  Becky gives us an apologetic look. “Okay guys, you can go.”

  Lance puts the car in gear and starts to drive off. I suddenly remember I never checked to see if Dorothy and Sally arrived.

  “Wait!” I shout.

  Lance slams on the brakes. The car behind us nearly hits our back bumper and goes on another cussing rampage.

  Becky steps out of her booth and walks over to us.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you happen to see two girls come through here?” I ask breathlessly. “They would have been on foot.”

  I point to the long line of people about 100 yards away from us, waiting to enter the pedestrian tunnel.

  Becky frowns and shakes her head. “Sorry Boom Boom, but I’ve been working this entrance all day. I can look them up in the database if you like.”

  “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” I say gratefully.

  Lance cocks an eyebrow. Krystal slaps her head and hollers, “Damn it, Boom Boom, tell me you didn’t invite some more strays to our penthouse. You know we can’t afford guests!”

  “They’re not strays!” I snap.

  “But they’re hookers?” Lance asks.

  “Well yes, but…”

  “Omigod, Boom Boom, you know we can’t help every prostitute you come across,” Krystal gripes.

  I feel my cheeks flush, but I bite my tongue. Krystal continues grumbling about how my heart is bigger than my brain. Lance, however, doesn’t say a word. He knows how I feel about seeing young girls used and abused. He’s nowhere near as judgmental as Krystal, and for that I am deeply grateful.

  Becky puts on a pair of goggles so she doesn’t have to run back to the computer in her booth. I can see the green light emanating from behind her shades as she scans the Sanctuary’s database. “So what are your friends’ names, Boom Boom?”

  My heart sinks as I realize my response may not be very helpful.

  “Well actually, I’m not entirely sure. I mean, I know their first names… Dorothy and Sally… but I didn’t catch their last names. And Dorothy and Sally could be their street names, not their real ones, so…”

  Becky strokes her chin as the green light from her goggles grows brighter. “Well, I’m looking at all the people in the holding room, which is where they would have been detained until you arrived to claim them, but I don’t see any young girls that fit your description.”

  “Can I check?” I
ask as a sense of helplessness washes over me.

  Becky removes her goggles and uneasily says, “Er, yeah, I guess.” She hesitantly hands them to Lance, who passes them to me. I notice the other guard scowl at us from his booth. Becky is probably violating protocol by giving us access to the Sanctuary’s database. I hope she doesn’t get in trouble.

  I slip the goggles on and my vision is instantly flooded with green light. I use the computer chip we all have installed in our brain to telepathically navigate the Sanctuary’s network. I soon reach a video feed of the holding room. It’s built to hold up to a thousand people at one time, but there’s only about 40 people in it at the moment, including four armed guards. I scan all the faces, but Dorothy and Sally are nowhere to be seen. The sense of helplessness deepens.

  I take the goggles off and hand them back to Becky.

  “Sorry for holding everyone up,” I say gloomily.

  “It’s okay, Boom Boom,” Becky says. “Sorry I don’t have better news. But I’m sure your friends are alright.”

  We both know that’s a lie. Something bad happened to Dorothy and Sally, and I’ll probably never see them again.

  Lance pats my thigh, something he always does when I’m in a despairing mood. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel a little bit better. Maybe it’s just the human contact from someone who truly cares about me.

  Lance speeds off into the tunnel. The honks and shouts grow fainter and fainter until they disappear completely. The silence is music to my battered eardrums. But that doesn’t come close to compensating for the unease I always feel when I’m in tight, enclosed spaces. The tunnel is actually pretty wide, but it reminds me of a giant, underground tomb. I glance up and wince at the sight of all the nerve gas cannons popping out of the walls. And even though you can’t tell just by looking at it, it’s common knowledge that the ceiling and walls are lined with explosives. If an army were ever dumb enough to attempt an invasion, they would be gassed, then buried alive under tons of rubble. The logical part of my brain knows I’m being ridiculous for imagining noxious gas and debris raining down on top of us. But the paranoid part can’t help it. I clench my eyes shut and take deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm my nerves.