Highway To Armageddon Page 8

  Someone else brushes up behind me. I know it’s another stripper when Boom Boom starts to growl.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” the blonde-haired beauty purrs. “The parking lot is behind the factory, deep in the woods. Did you guys really walk all the way over here?”

  “Er, no,” I say, struggling to find my voice. The way beautiful women can make me stumble over my words is embarrassing. “We, uh, had someone drop us off.”

  The girl chuckles and leans in so close that our lips nearly touch. She opens her mouth, and the scent of strawberry gum filters into my nostrils. “You’re cute. Why don’t we go in the back for a little fun?”

  Boom Boom shoves the girl so hard she actually does fall to the floor. She then drags me off yet again, grumbling about how I’m an idiot.

  While Boom Boom searches for someone to place a bet with, I continue looking for celebrities and politicians. I could totally blackmail half these people. If the government found out they were here, they’d go to jail for many, many years.

  I continue scanning faces until I come across one that causes my heart to skip a beat. And my heart nearly stops when the person looks directly at me. I grab Boom Boom’s arm and yank her behind a concession stand.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  I place my finger against my nose. “Shhh. I think I saw Pitbull.”

  Boom Boom’s face turns pale. “R…really?”

  I nod and slowly stand up. Boom Boom does as well. Off in the corner a massive, muscular man is watching the steel cage brawl. A hulking trench coat conceals his body and a hat obscures most of his face. Long, greasy black hair tumbles over his shoulders. He’s no longer looking in our direction; he must not have recognized us.

  “Yep, that’s him all right,” Boom Boom says. “He dyed his blond hair, and you can’t see his robotic arm under his trench coat, but our goggles can see past all that.”

  Pitbull is one of the most successful bounty hunters in the country. Over the years he’s nabbed even more people than Uncle Dagger. Dagger and Pitbull were actually rivals, fighting over the same crooks. That’s why I was afraid he’d recognized me, since our paths crossed quite often. I’m surprised he was able to sneak in undetected. One look under his coat would have revealed who he was. Cyborgs aren’t all that common, and Pitbull is probably the most famous one in America. He must have bribed the guards like we did.

  “C’mon, let’s go find Remy before Pitbull does,” Boom Boom whispers, weaving her way through the massive crowd. I have to jog to keep up.

  We finally find a bookie near one of the exits. He’s in the middle of taking bets from two guys who my goggles claim are high-profile attorneys from Sanctuary 23. They hand the bookie several large bills, and the bookie hands then a receipt. All wagers are made with cash or gold coins so the government can’t track suspicious money transfers. It’s why we emptied our savings and brought along a sack full of gold coins.

  The bookie is a middle-aged bald man with a bushy mustache and even bushier eyebrows. His fancy silk shirt is unbuttoned at the top so he can show off his hairy chest. If he thinks that will help him woo the ladies, he’s sadly mistaken (that is, if you go by the look of disgust on Boom Boom’s face).

  When the two guys walk off with their receipts, Boom Boom saunters up to the bookie and says, “Hey there, handsome. My friend and I want to place a bet.”

  The bookie’s eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets. “Well hello, pretty lady,” he says in a raspy voice. He glances at me, apparently jealous I have such a hot lady friend. His gaze returns to Boom Boom’s chest. “So, how much are you wanting to wager, beautiful?”

  Boom Boom opens her burlap sack. “Two thousand gold coins.”

  The bookie’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. He reaches for the bag, but Boom Boom yanks it back. “Not so fast, buddy. If I’m going to hand over this much money, I want to do it with The Chief.”

  The bookie narrows his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The slight tremble on his bottom lip says otherwise.

  Boom Boom grabs the bookie by his shirt. “I think you do. I’m sure you don’t want me making a scene out here in front of all these people. Not everyone knows Remy is here.”

  The bookie gasps when Boom Boom mentions Remy’s name. He wipes the sweat from his brow and stutters, “F… follow me.”

  The bookie takes off at a rapid trot. Boom Boom and I hurry after him. The bookie climbs some stairs to the top of the auditorium, right outside a club box. The bookie presses his finger against a scanner, and the door slides open. The three of us walk into a smoke-filled room jam-packed with fancy couches, recliners, pool tables, and a smorgasbord overflowing with booze and food. There’s over two dozen people sitting in the room, most of them strippers entertaining older guys who appear to have lots and lots of money. One of the guys in the room is the senator whose son I saw moments before. He has two young girls on his lap, and he’s yakking about how much power and influence he has in Washington.

  The senator looks over at Boom Boom and smiles. “Hey pretty lady, come sit on daddy’s lap. In my world three ain’t a crowd.”

  He then busts a gut laughing at his own words. I clench my fists, seconds away from popping the sleazeball in his mouth, but Boom Boom grabs my hand for like the millionth time and pulls me away.

  The bookie leads us to the back of the club box and places his hand against another scanner. We go through that door and walk down a long, deserted hallway. The bookie stops at another door, places his hand on the scanner, and ushers us inside.

  This room is similar to the box club we just left, but it’s a bit bigger, and there are fewer people. I make out four armed guards, a few strippers, and the Devil himself, Remy Pelletier. Remy is sitting in a chair, watching several holographic monitors sprawled out in front of him. The monitors show live images of the steel cage brawl and the crowd.

  I can’t help but gasp when I first see Remy. It’s like meeting a celebrity for the first time (if that celebrity was one of the world’s most wanted fugitives). He is a tall, slender, 30-something guy with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. He’s wearing a pin-striped suit, and multiple ruby-studded gold rings adorn his fingers. Two stunning strippers cling all over him, but he acts like they’re not even there. He’s too focused on the monitors, watching all the bookies to make sure they don’t screw him out of money.

  The bookie who led us to the secluded room nervously says, “Mr. Pelletier, I brought, ah, two young people who were eager to meet you.”

  Without looking up from his screen, Remy says, “I told you I did not want to be disturbed, Mario. I don’t like employees who don’t follow orders. I would hate to have to… liquidate… your position.”

  Mario’s hands begin to tremble. I can only assume liquidate is being used figuratively and literally.

  “My sincerest apologies, Mr. Pelletier, but…”

  Boom Boom shoves Mario to the side and marches over to Remy. The guards watch her cautiously.

  Boom Boom shoves the strippers off Remy’s lap and spins him around in his chair. At first Remy appears enraged, but that gives way to shock when he gets a good look at Boom Boom.

  “We didn’t come all this way to be given the cold shoulder,” Boom Boom says, plopping down on Remy’s lap. “My friend and I want to place a bet, and we wanted you to manage the transaction.”

  Boom Boom drops the burlap sack of coins onto Remy’s crotch. Remy groans as he picks the bag up. His grimace turns into a grin when he looks inside the bag and says how much we brought.

  “Merci, Cherie,” Remy says in his thick, French accent. “You are oh so beautiful. What is your name?”

  “Marie,” Boom Boom lies.

  Remy smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Ah, Marie. What a beautiful name. In fact, it’s my late mother’s name. She was a very pretty woman, but you… you, my dear, blow her out of the water.”

  “You are too kind,”
Boom Boom says, resting her arm on Remy’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind, but my friend and I would like to watch the fight up here. I prefer company that has some class.”

  Remy smirks and runs his fingers through Boom Boom’s hair. “I concur, Cherie. The people out in the auditorium help me pay the bills, but I wouldn’t invite them into my house.”

  The strippers make their way over to me and start rubbing their hands along my chest and back.

  “You are cute,” one of the girls says.

  “Er, thanks. So are you,” I reply stupidly.

  The girls giggle. Remy stares at me coldly and asks, “And who is your friend?”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Boom Boom says, flapping her wrist. “He won’t steal your women, he’s gay.”

  The strippers step back and frown.

  “Man, all the cutest guys are gay,” one of the strippers pouts before storming to the other side of the room.

  I give Boom Boom a dirty look, but Remy grins as he realizes I won’t be trying to take his ladies. At least, he thinks I won’t.

  Remy snaps his fingers. “Thank you, Mario. You are dismissed.”

  Mario bows his head and exits the room. Remy and Boom Boom continue talking about how awesome Remy is. The strippers make their way over to the guards and flirt with them. I sit in the back and snack on some grapes and apple slices while Boom Boom works her magic. She’ll lure Remy into a false sense of complacency and then, when he least expects it, WHAM!

  I pretend to watch the fight, waiting for the right moment to strike. Wolverine finally takes Stingray down with a knockout punch. The referee outside the cage counts to ten and declares Wolverine the winner. Wolverine raises his hands to the cheering crowd while Stingray is carried out on a stretcher. A few people rush into the cage to wipe down the pools of blood, then it’s time for the main event. The lights in the auditorium dim and a spotlight shines on the heavyweight champion, Abyss, as he stomps down the entrance ramp to menacing music. The crowd cheers even louder than they did for Wolverine, which I did not think was possible.

  I have to admit, Abyss is truly intimidating. He looks to be about seven feet tall and well over 300 pounds. But most of that is muscle. The guy’s thighs are almost thicker than my torso. He must eat steroids for breakfast. His skin is really dark, which is how he got his name, I guess. He almost makes Krystal appear white by comparison. A gleaming gold championship belt is wrapped around his waist. The thing looks like it’s worth a fortune.

  After Abyss plays to the crowd a bit, his opponent comes down the ramp to even more menacing music. According to the announcer the challenger is Sasquatch. Sasquatch is a bit smaller than Abyss, but not by much. He has long, blond hair and a grizzly beard. His chest and stomach are covered in a thick coat of hair as well, making him look like Big Foot’s long lost relative.

  After Sasquatch gets into the ring, the referee signals for the bell and the two monster behemoths go at it, slugging each other in the face and grunting like bears in heat.

  By now everyone is focused on the fight, including Remy’s guards, the strippers, and even Remy himself. Boom Boom glances back at me and touches her ear. That’s the signal. I grab a knife from the table and lunge toward the nearest guard. I’m a split-second from thrusting the blade into the guy’s throat when the front door flies off the handle and hits both of us. The guard and I tumble to the ground.

  The strippers scream and duck under a table as Pitbull barges into the room, his trench coat flapping behind him like a cape. He grabs a guard with his robotic right arm, which is still hidden under his coat. A sickening snapping sound signals that he just broke the poor guy’s neck. The guard slumps to the ground in a crumpled heap, and Pitbull snatches his gun off the ground.

  The guard I tried to attack jumps up and fires off several shots, as do the other guards. Pitbull rolls across the floor and returns fire, hitting one of the guards in his gut. The strippers scream even louder.

  Remy jumps out of his chair, toppling Boom Boom to the ground, and dashes out the back door.

  I run over to Boom Boom and help her up.

  “Are you okay?” I shout over the roar of gunfire.

  “Yes!” Boom Boom shouts, jumping to her feet. “Don’t let Remy get away!”

  I glance at Pitbull, who has just shot the last guard. Boom Boom seizes my arm and yanks me toward the rear door. We sprint out of the room, down a winding hallway, and out the back of the factory just in time to see Remy duck into the woods.

  “Come on!” Boom Boom hollers, pulling ahead of me. I stare in astonishment at her legs, which are moving so fast they blur together. I force myself to speed up so Boom Boom doesn’t reach Remy alone. The guy has been known to kill when he feels cornered.

  Boom Boom reaches the woods first. I shout for her to wait up, but she ignores me and disappears into the brush. I follow her along a well-worn path that twists and turns deep into the forest. With the treetops blocking out the moonlight, it’s nearly impossible to see, even with my goggles on. I trip and stumble on fallen branches and upturned tree roots. I even collide into a tree, busting my nose. But I keep moving.

  I finally reach a clearing in the middle of the forest. Hundreds of cars and motorbikes are parked on the grass.

  Off in the distance Boom Boom weaves through a row of cars.

  “Stop running, Remy!” she shouts. “The gig is up!”

  I keep running until I reach Boom Boom. I’m confused when I see her hurling rocks. But then I look up at the car floating into the sky. Remy glares down at us from the driver’s seat.

  “I should have known you were government agents!” he hisses.

  Boom Boom throws another rock, cracking Remy’s left rearview mirror. Remy whips out a gun and fires, missing Boom Boom by mere inches. I drag her behind a car. Several more shots shatter the car’s window and nick the ground in front of us. The gunfire stops seconds later when Remy flies off.

  Boom Boom slams her hands on the ground. “Damn it, we almost had him!”

  “We’re not done yet.” I tap the side of my goggles. “Krystal, come get us!”

  I wait for a few seconds, then shout, “Krystal! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

  Boom Boom sighs. “She fell asleep again, didn’t she?”

  I kick a rock. “We so need a new partner.”

  “Come on, let’s try and hotwire one of these cars.”

  Boom Boom reaches inside the car with the shattered window and unlocks the door. I hop into the passenger’s side while Boom Boom rips out the wires underneath the steering wheel and puts her thievery skills to good use.

  Rapidly approaching footsteps send me into a panic. “Boom Boom, someone’s coming,” I whisper. We both duck to the floor. A large shadow rushes past my window. Seconds later a car door slams shut and an engine revs up.

  Boom Boom hops out of the car and runs toward the sound of the engine. I stumble after her. We soon reach Pitbull, who has just extended the wings of his brand new Fire Chariot XX.

  “Pitbull, wait!” Boom Boom tears open the back driver’s side door and hops in. I jump into the front passenger seat.

  Pitbull stares at us in shock. He slides his shades over the top of his head, revealing glowing robotic eyes.

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing in my car?”

  I gulp when he bends back part of his steering wheel with his robotic hand.

  I stammer, “Uh… well… you see….”

  “We’re coming with you,” Boom Boom blurts.

  “Oh really? And why would I allow that when I can simply toss you out?”

  “Because you need us,” Boom Boom says calmly. “I placed a GPS chip in Remy’s pocket while I was sitting on his lap. If you want to find him, then you’re going to need our directions. Now shut your damn mouth and start flying!”

  Pitbull growls and presses the ignition button. The car blasts into the air, pushing me back in my seat. The forest below becomes a continuous dark-green blur.

&
nbsp; “Turn right, he’s heading toward Detroit,” Boom Boom says.

  Pitbull makes a sharp right turn, causing me to bump against his robotic arm. It’s so cold it almost burns my skin. Pitbull growls and shoves me off of him. My head bangs against the window. He’s even stronger than he looks (and he looks pretty strong).

  I glance at the red GPS signal flashing across the top of my goggles. Remy has a decent head start, but we’re already catching up.

  “I knew I saw you kids earlier.” I guess this is Pitbull’s attempt at making small-talk. “Your disguises are terrible, by the way.”

  “Yeah, so is yours,” Boom Boom retorts. “He just turned left.”

  Pitbull makes another sharp turn. I crack my head against the window.

  “By the way, I’m not splitting this bounty three ways,” Pitbull growls. “I get at least half. Count yourself lucky I’m being that generous.”

  “Thank you oh so much for your generosity, kind sir,” I say sarcastically.

  Pitbull growls even louder than before, prompting me to shut up.

  We fly through the skies of Detroit in relative silence, save for Boom Boom occasionally saying, “Go left,” or, “Go right.” After about a minute of the awkward quietness, Pitbull says, “So, uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. He was a good man… a worthy adversary. I almost considered coming to the funeral, but… well, you know, I’m not really good in social gatherings.”

  My voice cracks as I say, “Thanks.” I decide not to say anything else. I don’t want to show any emotion around someone as coldblooded as Pitbull. I am stunned he complimented Dagger, though. It almost means more coming from Pitbull, someone who at one point hated my uncle, than it does from someone who always loved him

  Boom Boom points toward the windshield. “There’s his car, off in the distance.”

  Pitbull hands me a gun. “Blast the car out of the sky, but don’t kill Remy.”

  “Duh,” I grumble.

  I roll down my window and aim the gun at the back of Remy’s car, which is now only 200 yards away. I fire my first shot, and Remy’s back windshield shatters. Remy does a nosedive to get away from us. Pitbull dives after him. I yank my hand inside the car and grip the dashboard as we plunge into a death spiral. Remy pulls up 100 feet above the ground and shoots back into the sky. Pitbull follows suit, snapping my neck back.