Authors: Charles E. Yallowitz
The Guardians are beginning to lose interest in Lloyd when the roaring of an engine erupts from the eastern side of the zoo. Monkeys screech from their island while the remaining rhino charges toward the zebras and giraffes. Birds fill the sky as the reinforced fence is taken down by a heavily armored van. A pack of motorcycles and sports cars follow the larger vehicle through the wreckage, all of them honking horns to scare animals out of their path. Bullets ping off metal as the Guardians scramble to defend their territory, but they only manage to take down one of the bikers down before the invaders split into smaller groups. None of the defenders are sure what to do without their leader and they are not entirely dedicated to killing the Metal Minstrels. As the vehicles move further into the zoo, the gunshots become fewer and only one other gang member is struck through her car’s windshield. It is only a shoulder wound, which one of her passengers tends to with a bandana while the others continue firing into the air.
Moving without an escort, the van careens toward the entrance pavilion with the intention of bringing Lloyd into the fight. Tyler clambers onto the roof of the vehicle, knocking on the driver’s side window to let Rose know he is in position. The gang leader leaps onto the pavilion and rolls to avoid slipping into the falling rubble created by the van smashing through the structure. Four of the guards remain at their posts and are slow to react, only one of them fully clothed and ready for a fight. Tyler shoulder rushes the slowest of the Guardians and knocks the woman off the roof before she can react to his presence. The agile man whirls around to slam the butt of his shotgun into the face of another enemy, who crumples into a groaning heap. Cocking the weapon, Tyler hopes the noise scares off the other two enemies, but one of them raises their rifle. The boom of the pink shotgun echoes across the zoo and the blast has enough force to send the dead man toppling into the wreckage. The final Guardian drops his weapon and attempts to retreat, but the van returns to collapse the pavilion section his is standing on. Tyler leaps back onto the vehicle while the entire building crashes to the ground, those inside or on top trapped in the ruins.
“That was awesome!” Lloyd shouts while he hangs out of the sliding door. He shoots random paintballs at any Guardians that he sees, the van moving too quickly for him to know if he is having any effect. “Things seem to be going well. Our enemies are on the run, the scent of elephant dung is on the breeze, and plenty of warm bodies to make cold. Anybody know where Cassidy wandered off to?”
“She headed for the northeast corner on a motorcycle,” Rose answers, skidding the van to a shaky stop. It blocks the road and prevents the approaching carts from getting to the rest of the battle. “We’ll hold them off here. Shouldn’t be too hard. Looks like there isn’t much fight in them. I hope that means things will return to normal once Amur is gone. You should hurry if you want a piece of him.”
Fearing that Cassidy will have all the fun, Lloyd leaps out of the van and sprints toward the distant enclosure. Dead zebras and camels line the road, the carcasses left as meals for the tigers that he can hear roaring in response to the noise. A skittish pack of wolves can be seen inside a gift shop, the predators hungrily watching the lone figure. They refuse to leave the safety of the building and several of them have injuries from being mauled by the big cats. Lloyd nods to the animals as he passes and waves his harmless gun in case they get any ideas. He is surprised there are no Guardians in the area and realizes that not even a boot print or a single piece of discarded trash exists. Sensing that he is already being hunted, the serial killer hurries onto the edge of a wall and clambers to higher ground for a clear view.
“You should have remained hidden like your friend,” Amur states, the man standing on top of the central building. With a whistle, he calls the tigers out of their hiding places and they move closer to the dividing wall that Lloyd is perched on. “She refused to shoot me or my friends. I lost track of her when she forced her way into the building. My most loyal men are inside, so she is no longer my concern. Things have been very quiet in there, which means she is dead.”
“I’ve learned that silence tends to be a bad thing,” Lloyd states before taking a shot at the khaki-wearing man. The blue pellet splatters bleach on Amur’s shirt, causing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “I really need to only aim for the face. These things are useless if they hit anywhere else. Not to stroke your ego, but I’m impressed you’ve lived this long while only using tigers as weapons. Would have thought they’d get mowed down by a gun-toting maniac or an ambitious trophy hunter. I’m even more surprised that one of them hasn’t eaten you in your sleep. Unless they pity you, which wouldn’t surprise me considering your hair.”
“They are my equals and not my weapons.”
“How many tigers have you lost in your travels?”
“Sacrifices must be made.”
“I’ve yet to meet a person who said that and not turn out to be an asshole.”
“These noble beasts-”
Lloyd shoots a red paintball into Amur’s mouth, enjoying the sight of the man doubling over and gurgling in pain. “Are not acting like real tigers. I mean, they’re supposed to be solitary animals and you have them running in a pack like wolves. You did something to them, which doesn’t surprise me since Cassidy already pegged you as a hypocrite. Is it possible to hypnotize or brainwash a wild animal? Doesn’t really matter. You’ll be dead in a few minutes.”
Before Lloyd can move along the wall, Amur draws a flare gun and fires it at the cornered serial killer. The loud shriek startles most of the tigers and causes them to retreat toward their caves, only the biggest one holding its ground. With nowhere else to go, Lloyd leaps into the enclosure and rolls into a crouch. The flare explodes behind him, but he is more concerned with the approaching predator. A crackling from Amur’s direction causes the other tigers to join in the hunt, their bodies stiff and tense.
“Bad kitties. You shouldn’t hunt monsters,” Lloyd whispers with a lick of his lips.
When the largest tiger pounces, the serial killer darts forward and punches the beast in the face. The other animals stop when they sense the aggression coming off their prey, who delivers a kick to the downed predator’s ribs. Taking a deep breath, Lloyd does his best imitation of a roar and feints at the remaining tigers. Unused to a human that fights back so viciously and shows no fear, the confused cats back away and shiver as if struck by an arctic breeze. They retreat entirely when the large one gets back to its feet and roars, receiving a louder reply when Lloyd uses the megaphone. Injured and not wanting to bother with the troublesome meal, the tiger walks by him and uses its tail to deliver a stubborn slap on the side of his head. None of the animals return to the fight even when they hear the crackling and look up to see Amur holding two stun guns over his head.
“What just happened?” he asks himself. He waves the weapons around and tries in vain to regain his control of the snarling beasts. “Why aren’t they obeying me anymore? Stop being afraid! It’s only one man!”
“Yeah, but that one man punched a tiger in the fucking face and roared,” Cassidy points out, the young woman having been quietly lurking on the rooftop. She waves to Lloyd, who is climbing out of the enclosure and heading for the building. “My friend makes an amazing distraction. Though the fact that wild animals find him terrifying is rather unnerving. So, you used the stun guns to control the tigers. I assume you’d come into a new area, isolate the tigers, and keep shocking them until they associated the noise with pain. Kind of like an evil Pavlov dog thing, but I’m not sure I remember that experiment correctly.”
“Are you going to shoot me?” Amur asks, sweat trickling down the side of his head.
“I would, but I need to save my bullets for Nebraska,” Cassidy replies before yanking the Guardian’s binoculars off his neck. Briefly admiring the quality of her new gear, she tucks it into one of her pockets. “I’ll have to settle for turning you over to the authorities.”
“Do you really think the police or the gangs will contain me?”
“I didn’t mean them.”
A burst of pain ripples through Amur’s body as Cassidy unloads her own stun gun into the rogue Guardian. Before he collapses to the floor, she spins him around and kicks him off the roof with all of her strength. She watches to see where he lands, a grin appearing on her face when he bounces off a divider wall and splashes into a pool. Having replaced all of the other animals with his tigers, Amur is left helpless as the beasts surround the edge of the water. Satisfied and anxious to get out of Cleveland, Cassidy heads for the stairs where Lloyd is waiting to applaud her entertaining victory.
“Good idea. If we don’t see him die then he can come back in another adventure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A recurring villain that has a grudge to settle.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be eaten.”
“Maybe he’ll come back hideous and deranged.”
“He’ll come back as tiger shit, Lloyd.”
“Amur will probably want to do horrible things to you since I wasn’t the one who kicked him off a building.”
“Please stop talking, Lloyd. I have a headache.”
Cassidy nurses a glass of milk and indulges in a package of chocolate chip cookies, the combination making her stand out in the roadside bar. All manner of vehicles surround the building that has been built to resemble a Wild West tavern. At least one with large signs made with glow-in-the-dark paint and other modern day conveniences. Darts and pool are being played in a game room that used to be entered through a curtain of beads, the barrier long having been reduced to a single strand. A few barely clothed men and women ply their trade among the crowd and occasionally disappear into one of the second floor bedrooms with a client. The waitresses and waiters routinely get mistaken for prostitutes because they are wearing nothing more than eye-catching swimsuits. Cassidy wonders how they survive the Ohio winters in such skimpy uniforms, but figures they probably switch to something more appropriate. Considering she saw a sign that stated flashing and mooning are only allowed by employees, she has a vague idea of the cold weather outfits. The old-fashioned bartender comes over to offer her some alcohol, but she refuses and trades him a recently found German beer stein in return for being left alone.
Glancing to her right, Cassidy watches Lloyd drunkenly talk about old movies and comic books with a trucker. The burly man downs whiskey like it is water, prompting the excited serial killer to keep up with shots of rum. One of the waiters is perched on the boisterous trucker’s lap, which makes it clear he is a beloved regular. With a terrible slur, Lloyd slips into talking like a pirate and getting his new friend to laugh. The bearded man is happy to pay for the drinks and a constant flow of snacks that range from cheese-covered nachos to what is supposed to be fried calamari. From the smell of the crunchy rings, Cassidy is fairly certain they are closer to chicken than squid. Remembering the flocks of pigeons in the parking lot, she can make a safe guess as to the source of such exotic meat.
Scanning the crowd for signs of the Half-Dead, she leaves Lloyd at the bar and heads for the bathroom. Her nerves have been on edge since leaving Cleveland, every noise from the jeep’s new Giger counter making her sick to her stomach. She is thankful for Tyler and Rose giving them the rare device, but knows that it will only warn them that the assassin is about to attack. It does not help that she has yet to tell Lloyd about the danger, which is causing Cassidy pangs of guilt and worry. For some reason, the man has repeatedly trusted her and now she is keeping a dangerous secret from him. To put her mind at ease, she admits that explaining a Half-Dead to someone who is new to the Shattered States is not easy. After all, they are the closest thing to true monsters that have appeared in the aftermath of the collapse.
“I’ll tell him tonight,” Cassidy whispers as she slips into the bathroom. Finding a couple making out in one stall and a drug party in another, she settles for the third toilet that has been plastered with porn. “All I have to do is make sure he knows how dangerous these things are. I know Lloyd can be crazy, but this is something that should scare him. Just push the fact that they don’t feel pain and are practically animals. What if I try to describe them as zombies and let him think they can infect him? That might make things worse.” A gentle knocking on the door of the stall causes her to snap out of her thoughts. “I’ll be out in a minute! If you really have to go then disturb the sex show at the other end of the row.”
The shadow on the floor moves away, so Cassidy flushes and heads out the door to wash her hands. She immediately notices the busty woman wearing a sexy cowgirl outfit that looks to be one violent cough away from busting at the seams. Not hiding her desires, the stranger is licking her lips and her hazel eyes never straying from the blonde traveler. Leaning on the electric hand dryer, the obvious prostitute allows the smell of her sweet perfume to travel across the room. The couple and the drug addicts are gone, which makes Cassidy even more uncomfortable. Already worried about leaving Lloyd on his own for too long, she dries her hands on her pants and heads for the door.
Passing the cowgirl, the blonde feels a hand grab her butt and she whirls around to throw a punch. Cassidy stops when she sees the woman leaning forward to deliver a kiss, the advance swiftly dodged out of fear of a contact drug. She is caught off-guard by the speed and flexibility of the prostitute, who seems very determined to make physical contact. Rushing for the door, Cassidy finds that there is a padlock on it and guesses the key is with her admirer. Hearing the cowgirl approaching, she sighs and turns around to press the barrel of her handgun against the woman’s forehead. At the click of the hammer, the prostitute’s sultry expression turns into one of fear and she begins shuddering. Warm tears roll down her cheeks, the young woman having known many in her trade who have been killed in similar situations.
“My name is Jezzie. Please don’t kill me. I have two kids and my husband was killed by a local gang. This is all I can do to make sure we survive,” the woman bawls, falling to her knees in order to beg more effectively. She relaxes when the gun is lowered, but notices that the weapon has not been holstered. “A man paid me to give you a good time. He said you looked lonely and kept staring at the waitresses. I’m not very experienced with women, but I thought if you were willing that you would give me instructions. My tongue-”
“Stop! Jezzie, right? Good thing Lloyd isn’t here because he’d have a field day with that name,” Cassidy says, helping the woman up. There is still something off about the cowgirl, but she is unable to put her finger on it. “My mom did the same thing as you, so I can’t be angry or judgmental. We do what we have to these days. Now you’re very beautiful, but I’m not attracted to women. My friend is, so maybe I’ll hand you off to him. I mean, you’ve already been paid and it might calm Lloyd down.”
“You can’t do that,” Jezzie blurts out, leaning away from the scowl she receives. Backing toward the nearest stall door, the woman glances around for a weapon or exit. “The payment was only for you, so I can’t switch customers. House rules . . . We could just sit in here for an hour and talk to make it seem like we did stuff. I’ll even tussle my hair. Maybe you can make some noise to help my reputation?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Only I have the key.”
“Then give it to me.”
“You’ll have to find it.”
Cassidy rubs her eyes in frustration and opens them as soon as she hears movement coming toward her. She sees Jezzie charging with the lid of a toilet tank, the porcelain object heading for the blonde’s side. Wanting answers more than a fight, Cassidy stays out of the cowgirl’s reach and waits for an opening. The swings are sloppy and several of them are made blindly, making it easy for the more experienced blonde to dart in with a stun gun. Jezzie moans and squirms at the burst of delicious pain, but maintains enough control to slam the tank lid onto her opponent’s shoulder. A loud pop tells both women that it has been dislocated, which only succeeds in enraging Cassidy. Kicking the prostitute’s legs out from under her, she pounces on the falling figure and puts her handgun against Jezzie’s eye.
“Okay! I surrender! I mean it this time!” the disheveled cowgirl says, putting up her arms even though she is prone on the floor. Realizing that she has gone too far, she takes a deep breath and pulls a picture of her children out of her cow-patterned cuff. “I wasn’t lying about them. Just hear me out. A gang leader named Jackman hired me to keep you in here. He did think you’d be kept busy with sex, but said that I had to do whatever I could to restrain you. Otherwise, he’d hurt my kids and scar my face. All I know is that he wanted your friend and the trucker. Word is that he kidnaps people in the area and sells them into slavery. The drunker the target, the easier it is for him to do the job. It’s always men too. He thought you were a bodyguard, so he had to get you out of the way. Please don’t kill me or let him know that I squealed. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“He’s probably already done the kidnapping by now,” Cassidy mutters, reached into Jezzie’s cleavage to claim the padlock key. She ignores the woman’s yelp of surprise and holsters her gun before moving away. “Prostitutes always hide keys between their tits. I hope you realize that if I go out there and discover you’re lying again, I’m going to shoot you.”
Cassidy waits for Jezzie to nod and get off the floor, the cowgirl ignoring the wet toilet paper that is on her skin and clothes. Cringing at the dull pain in her shoulder, the blonde takes a deep breath before popping her arm back in its socket and letting the limb dangle numbly at her side. Removing the padlock, she braces herself for the worst and finds that she expects the Half-Dead to be standing on the other side of the door. Instead, she sees that the place is as lively and busy as ever, more so considering a gang of rifle-toting cheerleaders has joined the drunken festivities. The only difference that concerns the young woman is that the trucker and Lloyd are missing, their unfinished drinks and food still on the bar. With a muttered curse, Cassidy moves back into the bathroom and closes the door to face the nervous prostitute.
“It looks like you were right,” she whispers, not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation. It would not surprise her to learn that someone is waiting to jump her in the busy bar. “My friend is gone. Now he could be in the bathroom, but I’ll go along with your story for now. Tell me where I can find Jackman. Preferably alone.”
“Nobody outside of the gang can tell you that,” Jezzie answers, holding up her hands when she hears the click of a gun. It turns out to be the doorknob opening and a stunning redhead wanders in with a drunken smile. “I can point out his men if you’re determined to cause trouble, but you can’t let them know it was me. Please don’t put me in danger.”
“Not a problem since Jackman will be dead or worse when I’m done.”
“You can do that?”
“Let’s just say I have some negativity to unleash. Ugh, Lloyd is starting to rub off on me.”
“In that case, I’ll give you and your friend a good time for a discount whenever you return.”
“No. Just no. Please send me in the right direction and never make that offer again.”
Cassidy notices that the redhead is peeking under the stall, so she draws a knife out of her boot and slams the weapon through the side wall. The shrieking prostitute scrambles into the open, clutching her pasty-covered chest as if she is about to have a heart attack. A rapid series of nods is all the scantily clad local can muster to assure the cold-eyed blonde that she will keep her mouth shut. Plucking the blade from the stall, Cassidy puts on a wide smile and drapes her arm around Jezzie’s shoulders. Messing up their hair, she leads them through the bathroom door and mixes into the crowd as her new friend subtly points at a man in leather. The two women approach the biker and he only has a second to believe it is his lucky day before he feels a handgun slip through his open zipper.
“Should have kept your fly up,” Cassidy whispers, licking her lips and releasing Jezzie. “So I hear you know where I can find Jackman. Take me to him or you’ll have an even bigger mess in your pants. Do we have a deal? Good.”
*****
Lloyd groans and blinks several times, the bright lights surrounding him causing vertigo and disorientation. If he had been a better man in his life, he would be wondering if he died and went to heaven, but that thought never crosses his mind. Touching his body, the serial killer figures out that he is wearing jeans and no shirt. As his headache lessens and his eyes adjust, he sees pieces of furniture meticulously placed around the nicely decorated room. All of the wooden surfaces have been dusted and polished while the twin leather couches smell like they are fresh from the store. Wooden stairs go up to another floor, a trail of empty picture frames along the white wall. Thick carpeting is under his bare feet and his hair is damp from being recently cleaned, the smell of shampoo still hanging in the air. Shifting in the plush chair, Lloyd takes his time examining the beautiful house that is filled with sunlight. There are paintings on the walls and several tiny trinkets that he imagines a housewife would order off the Internet. Legs and lower back aching, he rocks to his feet and notices a sweating glass of water on a coaster. His mouth is sour and dry, so he claims the cold drink and prays it is enough to help him survive what might be the worst hangover of his life.
Groggily walking to a window, Lloyd can see that he is on a suburban street that has remained untouched by the chaos that devastated the rest of the country. The lawn is perfectly mowed and there is a red-shirted lawn jockey holding a lantern in the center. An aluminum mailbox sits near the curb, his last name having been painted on both sides. Shade trees dot the block, some of them with bicycles leaning against them. Lloyd guesses it is garbage day due to there being cans for trash and recycling in front of the houses. It takes him a few minutes of staring at the flowers to realize that there are no cars on the street, but every driveway has at least one vehicle. He does not have much time to think about where he is before the sound of running water draws him to the kitchen.
Lloyd stops in the doorway, his mouth wide open at the sight of the gorgeous woman cleaning dishes. Her slender body is framed by long, black hair that shimmers in the light coming through the curtained window. Her only article of clothing is a white apron, which makes Lloyd wonder if he is dreaming again. The woman dries her hands on a towel and moves to take the apron off, but freezes when she turns to see she is not alone. Instead of screaming and throwing something, she smiles warmly at the dumbstruck man and walks across the clean floor. Her hazel eyes hold an enchanting spark that mesmerizes Lloyd, the sensation becoming stronger when she gives him a kiss on the cheek.