Highway To Armageddon (34 page)

           
Krystal gives Lance the ‘evil eye’ before flapping her wrist and proclaiming,
“Y’all ain’t got nothing to worry about. There ain’t any good shows on tonight
anyway.”

           
Surprisingly that
does
assuage my fears.

           
“We need to make sure these guys don’t go get help after we leave,” I say,
unlatching a grenade from my belt.

           
Krystal peers at me over the top of her shades. “Girl, what’s your crazy ass
about to do?”

           
I twirl the grenade around in my hands. “I’m taking out their RV. I suggest you
back up.”

           
Everyone runs to the edge of the clearing. I pop open the hood and yank the pin
out of the grenade before dropping it into the engine. I slam the hood back
down and run toward the woods. I just reach the bushes when an explosion
rattles my eardrums. I turn to find the front of the RV on fire. Thick, black
smoke billows into the night sky.

           
“Boom Boom doing what she does best,” Arrow says with a smirk. “Making a
boom-boom.”

           
“Nice, Arrow. That was
almost
clever,” Krystal says.

           
“Alright, enough fooling around,” I bark. “Let’s do what we came her to do.
Krystal and Dorothy, go get the car ready.”

           
“Yes sir,” Krystal says with a sarcastic salute.

           
Krystal and Dorothy disappear into the brush. The boys and I hustle our way
toward Dresden. It’s already after 11:30 and the city gates are about a mile
away. We need to haul ass if we want to rescue Machete before midnight.

           
We thrash through the forest, tripping over fallen branches. This part of the
wilderness looks to be relatively untouched by the storm, but some of the
branches were torn off by the fierce winds. We finally reach the settlement
about ten minutes later. The clock on my goggles says it’s 11:40. We’re cutting
it close, like usual.

           
We dash up to the city gates, tripping over our long robes in the process. My
hood keeps slipping off my head, forcing me to hold it with one hand.

           
A massive, 20-foot tall brick wall surrounds the city. The entrance is blocked
by a swinging gate made of vertical steel bars. Hovering over the gate is a
glowing red sign that reads
Dresden
.

           
We approach the guard shack just outside the gate. The shack is encased in what
appears to be bulletproof glass. The guard is wearing a gray uniform that bears
a striking resemblance to the ones worn by Nazi officers during the 1930s and
40s. It even has a swastika emblazoned on the front. I find his outfit even
more offensive than the white robes we’re wearing.

           
The guard is guzzling a mug of beer. A machine gun dangles from his shoulder. I
gulp as we step in front of him.

           
The guard is still slurping his booze like there’s no tomorrow when Lance
clears his throat and says, “Er, excuse me, Mr. Nazi Guard.”

           
The guard drops his mug and unslings his gun, pointing it at us though a small
opening in the front of his booth.

           
“Halt!” The guard shrieks in German. “Wer geht da?”

           
Lance turns to me and shrugs.

           
“Don’t look at me,” I whisper. “I know some Spanish, French, and Chinese, but
German is definitely not my forte.”

           
Lance turns back to the inebriated guard. “Hey bro, this is America. We speak
English here.”

           
Spoken like a true red-neck racist. Lance is a better actor than I thought.

           
The guard blinks at us several times before slurring, this time in English,
“What are you all doing coming up to the gates at this hour? Everyone else is
inside celebrating ‘Racial Purity Night’.”

           
I can’t believe they actually have a name for their weekly atrocities. The
guard says it with the same nonchalance one would have announcing ‘Ladies
Night’ at a bar.   

           
I hesitantly reply, “We were, uh, doing a little hunting. You know, looking for
immigrants in the forest. Can you please let us in? We want to see the… er,
lynching.”

           
I almost can’t get the words out of my mouth. I can’t even
pretend
to
enjoy such a thing. I must be at least somewhat convincing as a genocidal
racist, however, because the guard presses a button, causing the steel gate to
slowly, creakily swing open.

           
“Alright, didn’t mean to hold you up,” the guard says. “Come in, come in!”

           
I step through the city gates and look around in bewilderment. It’s like I’ve
entered a different world, where white supremacy reigns supreme and no one
dares stay out in the sun too long for fear of resembling their darker-skinned
enemies. There are thousands upon thousands of white people in the streets,
drinking beer and waving Confederate and Nazi flags. Most of the Dresden
citizens are wearing white robes and hoods. Others are skinheads, with leather
jackets and swastika tattoos on their arms and bare chests. Still others
resemble the guard at the gate, wearing Nazi-replica military uniforms. They
look like they could have walked right off the cover of a World War 2 history
book. Even more disturbing, though, is the sight of hundreds of children
dressed in brown shirts. This is a sign they are members of Hitler’s Youth, a
Nazi-era organization for children that was recently resurrected over in Europe
(and now apparently here in America). It sickens me to no end to see innocent
children indoctrinated in the studies of hatred and senseless prejudice. It
would be ironic if this contemporary version of Dresden suffered the same fate
as its Third Reich counterpart. Indeed, there’s even a plaque in the front of
the settlement memorializing the firebombing of the German city back in 1945.
If only karma were a real thing.

           
As we make our way through the congested streets, another thing becomes
shockingly apparent. Over half of the people in Dresden have blonde hair and
blue eyes. I had heard this was happening in Europe, but I didn’t realize it
was occurring here as well. To make Adolf Hitler’s dream of a ‘racially pure’
society a reality, the Neo-Nazi’s have started using genetic engineering to
manipulate the embryos of all their pregnant women, so that their children are
born without debilitating birth defects. They also alter the genes that control
hair and eye color, as well as skin tones. It’s a good thing my bright red hair
is hidden under my hood. I’d stand out like a blazing fire in a sea of ice.
Lance, on the other hand, would fit right in. (Physically, not personally, of
course.) Still, I can’t help but resent Lance for being the poster child of
what every Neo-Nazi wants to look like. My hatred for Neo-Nazis runs
that
deep.

           
Despite all this, however, even a place as horribly morbid as Dresden has its
charms. The village has elaborate fountains in the middle of the streets that
shoot water way up into the sky. Some of the fountains have cute statutes of
baby angels spitting water out of their mouths. Quaint cabins with huge bay
windows are off on the sides of the streets, sticking out of grassy hills. Most
of the cabins have vibrant flower beds and vegetable gardens. If it weren’t for
the people who lived in Dresden, I would actually consider moving here. I’m so
used to being surrounded by towering skyscrapers that the wide open spaces and
one-story buildings are a refreshing change. My claustrophobia would become a
non-factor in such a place.

           
The air soon becomes filled with the tantalizing smells of schnitzel,
bratwurst, sauerkraut, Bavarian pretzels, and beer. My mouth waters, reminding
me how hungry I am. None of us have had a decent meal in days. I’m definitely
feeling the effects of it. I’m fatigued and a little light-headed, and my
stomach is in a perpetual state of discomfort. But I do my best to ignore the
pain. What I wouldn’t do for some pain pills, though. I wonder if Lance is
going through withdrawal like I am.

           
I side-step a few puddles in the middle of the street. That’s the only sign a
ferocious storm blew through just hours before. The clouds have cleared up so
much that I can see the stars.

           
I’m so busy looking out for puddles that I nearly collide into a statue. I
glance up and groan. It’s a 20-foot tall marble statue of Adolf Hitler giving
his infamous Nazi salute. If I had a bazooka on me I’d blow it to bits.

           
There are several other statues on the side of the road. Most of them are Nazis
from the 1930s and 40s, like Josef Mengele, Rudolf Hess, Adolf Eichmann, the
‘Bitch of Buchenwald’ Ilse Koch, and countless others. There’s also a statue of
the First Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, Nathan Forrest, and the president
of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis. Last but not least is the 40-foot tall
statue of the current Fuhrer of Neo-Nazi Europe, Sarah Coulter. ‘Fuhrer’
Coulter is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed tyrant that makes the ‘Bitch of
Buchenwald’ seem like a saint in comparison. I quickly move away from the
statues so I’m not tempted to riddle them with bullets.

           
I rush over to Arrow, who has pulled ahead of us. On the way I ponder the
absurdity of the three leaders of the most powerful empires on Earth being
women, and yet they like to wage war like their male predecessors. There used
to be an old saying back in the 20
^th
and 21
^st
centuries;
if
women ruled the world, you wouldn’t have wars, just a bunch of countries not
talking to each other
. That humorous saying turned out to be half right.
Now that women rule the world, countries don’t spend too much time talking, but
boy do they still like to fight.

           
“What exactly are we looking for?” I ask Arrow.

           
“A prison or concentration camp,” Arrow replies coolly, sidestepping two kids
in brown shirts chasing after some other kids pretending to be ‘undesirables’.
“I’m guessing she would be held…”

           
“Hey guys, what’s this?” Lance points to a monstrous crowd that has gathered
near a field.

           
We walk over and peer over the tops of all the white hoods in front of us.
There are at least 10,000 people standing around, maybe more. Off in the
distance is a wooden stage with several nooses hanging from a steel bar. Hovering
over the illuminated stage is a holographic clock counting down to midnight.
Right now it says we’re one minute and twelve seconds away.

           
“It’s the lynching,” Arrow says. “We’re too late.”

           
Even though I’m still annoyed with Arrow, I can’t help but rub his back.

           
Lance offers his support, too, in a gruff, indirect way. “If they bring her
out, I guess we’ll just have to fight our way through the crowd.”

           
I glare at Lance from under my hood. “You expect us to take on 10,000 drunk,
unruly white supremacists all by ourselves?”

           
Lance shrugs. “Sure, why not? Could be fun.”

           
I roll my eyes and turn back to the stage. When the countdown clock drops under
one minute, the crowd starts counting down with it. The enthusiasm from the
blood-thirsty crowd increases dramatically the closer the clock gets to zero.

           
“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five…”

           
I gasp in horror as a holographic screen up

in the sky shows two cute blond boys
cheering the coming executions. It’s a sight that sickens me to no end.

           
“…three… two… one!”

           
The clock strikes midnight and fireworks explode off in the distance,
decorating the night sky with fragments of red, blue, and green light. I barely
hear the KA-BOOM of the fireworks over the fanatical crowd. I’m ashamed to be
part of such a spectacle.

           
After the fireworks die down, Dresden’s Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard takes the
stage and does the one-handed Nazi salute. 10,000 arms pop into the air and
respond in kind. Lance, Arrow and I reluctantly raise ours so as not to attract
suspicious stares.

           
The Grand Wizard bellows, “Hello, Dresden! Are you ready to party?”

           
The tsunami of cheers that follow suggest yes.

           
“That was some storm earlier, huh?” the Grand Wizard says, his voice booming
through his headset. “Some of you were afraid we’d have to cancel tonight’s
festivities, but as you can plainly see, not even an act of God can stop
‘Racial Purity Night’!”

           
The cheers grow louder. I wonder if this is what Hitler heard after he
delivered his genocidal diatribes to thousands of screaming supporters.

           
The Grand Wizard flaps his hands and the rowdy crowd grows eerily quiet. “Now I
know all of you fine people would love to hear me talk all night, but that’s
not what we’re here for. We’re here to celebrate our Aryan superiority. And
what better way to do that than with a good old fashioned lynching?”

           
The crowd roars again. The Grand Wizard goes on to give a sick but impassioned
speech about how they’re not monsters for doing this, that they’re simply
trying to preserve Aryan dominance. He then rants about how ‘undesirables’ are
taking all their jobs and land, and how they’ve tainting the gene pool with
their ‘defective and vile DNA’. It’s hands-down the most disgusting garbage
I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard quite a bit of trash in my day.