Knights of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 2) (19 page)

“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.