Pursuit of the Apocalypse (18 page)

“Persistence pays out in the end.” Mr. Christopher smiled. “Pity I won’t have the woman’s head, too. But it’s mostly you they’re after anyway.”

“Where is Erica?”

Mr. Christopher crossed his arms and looked toward the ceiling as he speculated. “You see, now I have to decide. I could easily tell you she’s dead. Which would probably destroy you emotionally before the bears destroy you physically, which I would enjoy, I think. But I could also tell you that she’s still alive and hoping for you to save her. Which will make you feel worse when you’re about to die, and I’d like that too. I can’t decide which I’d enjoy more. I guess I’ll have to decide which sad look would go better on your severed head.”

“You might think you can keep a secret. But your ego never could. Since you’re not gloating, it’s easy to know. She’s alive and it’s bugging the shit out of you that your plans are unraveling. Your perfect plans that got you stuck here in a cell. Instead of out there in control.”

The bounty hunter laughed and produced a slow clap. “I guess we’ll have to go with option two then. She is alive, Librarian. She ran off into the woods because these idiots couldn’t watch a Tom and Jerry cartoon without something getting by. She got out and jumped in the river. A really cold river. Half the guards are after her. But, don’t worry. If she’s not dead, I’m sure they won’t kill her. Some lucky guy will get to buy her and put a brand on her.”

“Ever since I first saw you,” Jerry said. “I wanted to punch you. When you first came out from behind your minions I wanted nothing more than to punch you in the face. At first I thought it was because you were trying to kill me. But, it’s not that, is it? You’re just really, really punchable, aren’t you?”

“You can think whatever you like of me, Librarian. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to die soon and then everything will be fine.”

“Do you really think killing me is justice?”

“I don’t really care.”

“Do you think I was wrong to protect those people from a life of slavery or death at the hands of your tyrant?”

Mr. Christopher stood up and moved back to the cell door. “Honestly, Jerry, I don’t think anything about you. Or your girlfriend. I don’t care about either of you. In the quiet moments all I think about is the money and nothing else. You mean nothing to me.”

“Oh, that hurts. I’ll have to find a way to make you think about me more.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Mr. Christopher said. “When I give them your head and they give me all that money—I’ll try to think of you then.”

“How could you assholes lose an entire biker gang?” The angry woman’s voice sounded worse in the bricked-in basement. Tinnier. Angrier. It carried all the way down the hall and into the cells.

“Sorry, Carrie,” a man responded.

“It’s like you make up new ways to give me the red ass,” Carrie said.

Another man jumped in. “We ... we didn’t meant to give you the red ass—”

“Shut up!” she screamed. “You don’t get to talk about my ass! It’s disrespectful, you fucking retard.”

“Sorry, Carrie,” he said.

Carrie and four armed men stepped in front of the cells. She turned to Jerry. “So, you’re going to die. For crimes against the peace and tranquility of the state of Tolerance you will face trial by bear where you will face almost certain death by bear.”

“Almost certain death?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, you’re going to die. But, in the very slim chance you live, you’ll earn your freedom ... as a slave.” Her laugh could kill hopes, dreams, and probably children.

“Uh, Carrie.” One of the armed men tapped her on the shoulder. “We’re supposed to call them life assistants.”

The woman turned slowly to the guard that had corrected her. “Did you just say something to me?”

The guard looked away. “No.”

“No? That’s funny, ’cause I could have sworn you said, ‘Carrie, I want to fight a bear today.” She screamed, “Didn’t you?”

“No. I didn’t say anything.”

Mr. Christopher interrupted the stare down. “I for one am excited to see justice served. Now if you’ll just release me, I’d love a front row seat to the trial.”

She smiled. “We’re happy to oblige you. In fact, you’ll get bear-side seats to the whole thing.” She snapped at the guards, “Get them out of here.”

Christopher backed away from the cell door. “You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I certainly do possibly,” she said as she mocked his pompous posture with an exaggerated swaying at the hips. “You broke the peace too, asshole. You two committed the crime together, so it’s only fair that you face the same punishment.”

The man from Alasis protested, “If you put me in there you can kiss any sort of agreement you have with my people good-bye.”

Carrie made a kissy face. “Mwahh.”

“You’re being foolish, woman. Without the aid of Alasis, your people will starve. Without our protection you will cease to exist.”

“Without you we’ll be fine.”

“How can you say that? Your people are so lazy and they can’t even handle an insult without the need of three months worth of counseling.”

“Well, Mr. Concerned, we figured we’d just kill you and not tell Alasis about it. We hate to make them worry about you.” She barked at the guards, “Didn’t you hear me? Get them out of there.”

The guards opened the cell doors and dragged the men into the hallway. Carrie smiled as she held up a single pair of handcuffs. “Crime together,” she said as she slapped a cuff on Jerry’s left hand. “Die together.” She locked the other bracelet on Christopher’s right wrist.

Mr. Christopher held up his wrist to examine the shackles.

“Where’s that confidence now, Chris?” the Librarian asked.

Mr. Christopher grabbed at the cuff and tried to pull it off his hand. “Oh my God. Oh my God. What are we going to do?”

The Librarian smiled and punched Mr. Christopher in the face.

The man tried to run, reached the end of the handcuffs, bounced back and took another blow to the face. This continued until one of the guards stepped in and put a hand on Jerry’s wrist. “You’re going to want him conscious.”

Carrie shook her head and turned to leave. “Men,” she said as she walked away with disgust in her voice.

TWENTY-THREE

Erica closed her eyes and let the hot water wash over her face. It was gravity fed from a solar still on the roof, but it was a hot shower nonetheless. It was hardly steaming hot, but it was enough to finally warm the chill from her body.

She shut off the flow of water and dried off with a towel Martha had warmed by the stove. Then she dressed in the shower behind the privacy of the vinyl curtain. Modesty had gone out the window with the end of the world, but hiding behind the curtain gave her a few more minutes to pretend that she wasn’t locked inside a cabin with three bears and a woman who, though she seemed nice enough, was obviously batshit insane because she lived in a cabin with three bears.

Leaving the safety of the shower curtain behind, she took a deep breath and stepped into the cabin just in time to see Paddington, Winnie, and Murderbear sitting down to dinner. The three bears were seated back at the table while Martha was in the kitchen spooning up bowls of what could only be described as gruel.

The slop was lumpy white and appeared to be more chalk than liquid. It hit the bowl with a wet smack that made Erica’s stomach jump from across the room. It didn’t even look like food. It may have been papier-mâché; she couldn’t be certain it wasn’t.

Martha looked up from the ladle. “Did you have a nice shower, dear?”

“I did, thank you. What you’ve done out here is nothing short of amazing. I mean, hot water ... out here?”

“Nature gives us most of what we need. And what it doesn’t,” Martha held up a bottle of wine, “the bears can steal for me.”

Erica laughed and nodded at Martha’s invitation to share the bottle.

“Come sit down. Dinner is ready.” She set the bowl of gruel on the table in front of Paddington. “And, don’t worry, it’s not this.” She returned to the kitchen and pulled a foil covered casserole dish from the oven.

Steam burst from the dish as Martha pulled back the foil, and the cabin quickly filled with a smell that delighted every ounce of hunger Erica had. Potatoes, peas, carrots, and some form of meat she decided to enjoy first and ask about later.

Martha pulled out a corkscrew and set to work on the wine. She poured two glasses and gestured to the table. “Please sit, dear. It’s been a long time since I got to serve proper company.”

Murderbear grumbled at the comment.

“Oh stop it,” Martha said. “We don’t often get guests. Mind your manners.”

Murderbear grumbled once more and turned back to his gruel.

“Don’t mind him, dear. Have a seat.”

Erica sat opposite the three bears and thought nothing of it when Martha joined her at the table and set a steaming plate in front of her.

Paddington sat before his dish but wouldn’t touch it. He just stared at the bowl of gruel and gave a low growl.

“Hush, Paddington. We have company.” The older woman poured a glass wine for each of them. “Cheers to you.”

“Thank you. For everything,” Erica said and tapped her glass to Martha’s.

The older woman took a long sip and savored the taste for a moment before setting the glass down. “So, what is the plan? How do we get you back to safety?”

Erica dug into the food with an uneasy balance of ravenous hunger and manners. She was careful not to speak with her mouth full because Paddington was staring and had barely touched his gruel. “I have to make it back to Texas. If I can get home to New Hope, I’m certain my husband will find me there.”

“A husband? Isn’t that wonderful. I didn’t see a ring.”

“It was a rather quick on-the-run kind of ceremony.”

“And you’re certain he’s trying to find you?”

“I am.”

“Because some men are horribly selfish cowards, you know. I’ve known my fair share of men, and I can’t think of many that would risk an adventure across this godforsaken countryside to save anyone but themselves.”

“This one is different.”

“Aren’t they all? Or they appear to be at first, don’t they?” Martha smiled warmly. “I’m sure he’s wonderful. But, what makes your man so special?”

Erica smiled to herself. She had fallen in love with him for the man he was, not the man the world knew him as, but for the first time she realized she was with one of the few celebrities left in the world. She’d never been able to tell anyone. They’d been hiding for so long from their fame because it was the kind of famous that brought trouble. But, she knew she could tell Martha. “He’s the Librarian.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, dear. Not many towns have a library anymore. Very few made it through the first winter. The paper was a little too tempting, I suppose. Makes great tinder and, if you roll it tight enough, it can burn for quite a while.”

“No,” Erica chuckled, “he’s not a librarian. He’s the Librarian.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, dear.”

Erica knew she’d feel foolish explaining it at this point. “It’s ... it’s just what some people call him.”

“I see. Well, there are worse things to be called.”

“No, it’s a ...” Erica chuckled. “It’s no big deal. I just thought you might have heard of him.”

“Well, I don’t get out much except to walk the bears, and as you can imagine not a lot of people come running up to me looking to gossip.”

“No, I imagine it would cut down on the small talk.”

“It really does.” Martha nodded. “Murderbear hates small talk.”

Erica stared into her casserole for a long moment. “Jerry is a good man. I have no doubt he’s looking for me right now. But I don’t know how he’d ever find me here. If I can make it back home ... he knows that’s where I’d go.”

“That’s a long way.”

“I know. But I’ll make it. I have to.”

Martha grabbed Erica’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We will do everything we can to help.”

Winnie grunted and shoved an empty bowl across the table. Erica smiled as the bear picked up a napkin and dabbed at its face.

Erica laughed. “Are you sure these bears aren’t at least a little above average?”

“No, dear. Anyone can seem smart if they practice enough. Problem is most people don’t want to put the time in. Especially when it comes to things like manners.”

Paddington growled again and pushed away a full bowl. The gruel slopped onto the table as it threatened to spill.

Martha pushed it back in front of the bear. “Clean your bowl, Paddington.”

The bear growled louder and shoved the bowl away again.

She set the bowl down once more. “Don’t be that way, Paddington. You don’t hear Murderbear complaining.”

Indeed, Murderbear’s entire attention was focused on getting the gruel out of the bowl. His paws dripped with the white mixture and he licked at the drippings.

Paddington let out a fierce roar and swiped the bowl from the table. It smashed against the wall and shattered, leaving a splat of dripping gruel to run down the wall.

Martha sighed. “Do you still think they seem intelligent, dear?” To Paddington she said, “Fine, now you have no dinner. Are you happy now?”

The bear was not happy. A massive paw reached out for the dish in front of Martha.

The woman slapped Paddington’s paw.

This drew a startled bark from the bear.

“You’ve forgotten your manners, young man,” Martha lectured. “We do not reach!”

Paddington roared.

Martha roared back, but it was not enough to cow the beast.

Paddington stood and knocked the table on end, clearing the area between the bear and the older woman. Gruel and casserole flew across the cabin.

Erica leapt from her seat and rushed to the cabin door.

Winnie was unfazed as she continued to wipe her face.

Murderbear growled and went searching for his displaced bowl of gruel.

“That is enough, Paddington! We have a guest here, and you are being disrespectful. This behavior is unacceptable. Go to your corner!”

Paddington lunged forward and tackled Martha from her seat. Within moments the woman was dead.

Erica wanted to scream but was afraid to. She slid the bolt from the door as Paddington roared and shred the vest the woman had made for him.