Authors: Charles E. Yallowitz
“Never say that to me again. Let’s go before I waste more ammo.”
“All I’m saying is that I hate when somebody uses a patriotic or nearly patriotic title because it’s catchy, but the subject matter has nothing to do with the nation in question,” Lloyd explains, pausing only to take a drink from the canteen he took off Noah. Placing the container under his seat, he is careful not to cut himself on his extensive knife collection. “Now I’ll admit that I’m not into politics and my personal history means I can’t vote. Do people still vote in this country or is that a thing of the past? Doesn’t matter because my point here is that it’s wrong to toy with a person’s nationalistic pride and emotions. Most people love their homes, so it’s cruel to use that connection against them. I’m all for pain of the body and causing fear, but the human mind is so fragile that it kind of hurts to see it break that way. Did you know that you can actually see a person mentally snap if you look in their eyes at the right moment?”
“I don’t even have the energy to repeat my side of this argument,” Cassidy moans, placing her head on the steering wheel. An ear-wrenching grind wakes her and she stops to adjust the gears, fearing that this is the time the jeep will die. “Let’s leave this conversation in the past. We need to find a way to get the car fixed or we’re stuck walking with all the supplies. Neddy will never sell to me again if he finds out how quickly I trashed this. Maybe we can find a mechanic in a nearby town and make a trade.”
“Or we could ask that fat guy eating a bucket of hamburgers,” Lloyd suggests, pointing at a man across the street. He waves to the stranger, who is wearing a tan robe and holding out a wooden pendant that is shaped like a book. “Then again, I don’t like the look of his clothes and he keeps smiling. I made a list of post-apocalyptic clichés that we need to run into and already checked off the previous ones. Crazy cult is number four and I don’t feel ready for that. Why are you getting out of the car? Don’t give him any donations, but take any pamphlets that he offers because we’re running out of toilet paper!”
Cassidy ignores her companion as she nears the heavyset, bald man and holds out her hands to show she is unarmed. The stranger merely smiles wider and moves his robe, revealing a padded baseball bat on his hip. Even with the weapon on display, the young woman knows she could easily win a fight with the traveler. He is obviously out of shape and wolfs down burgers as if he fears they will be stolen any second. Then again, the man seems very confident in his simple weapon and his unflinching smile makes her wary. Glancing at his feet, Cassidy sees that he has no shoes and his callused skin has become raw and bloody. Remembering what his pendant means, she quickly thinks of a way to fit him into the jeep that is already stuffed with supplies.
“Do you need a ride, Brother of the Page?” she asks, part of her wondering if her offer will cause them to head in the wrong direction. “My name is Cassidy and that’s . . . Lloyd. Not sure where you’re heading, but we’re going west. At least until our vehicle breaks down. Still we can take you along to give your feet some rest. I think we have some socks that you can take, but nothing in the way of shoes.”
“And what would you ask for in return?” the man replies in a soft, warm voice. He notices the condition of the jeep’s hood and a wisp of smoke coming from the engine. “I apologize, but my long travel has made me forget my manners. I am Brother Awry of the Library. My head is full of stories and I am returning to Cleveland to deposit them. Perhaps one of my brothers and sisters can help with your vehicle. We have many books on cars and there are mechanics all over the city. It is one of the few places blessed with minimal damage and a quick recovery after the riots.”
“I did hear that Cleveland made out better than most, but also that it’s become infested with gangs,” Cassidy replies, waving for Lloyd to join them. She shakes her head when he steps out holding two knives, the killer making no attempt to appear harmless. “I’m sorry about him. He’s always on edge and we’ve had a lot of bad luck since leaving Long Island. To be completely honest, I broke him out of Rikers Island in New York and he has no idea what’s been going on out here. But I promise that he means you no harm.”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Lloyd states once he gets across the street. He is about to say something else when Awry offers him a cheeseburger, the meat dripping with juices. “Sorry, but I only eat burgers on Tuesdays. Bet that odd reference went over everyone’s head. Anyway, I’ll play nice since you don’t seem like a threat. Not sure why a Friar Tuck cosplayer would be wandering around out here, but I’ve got a barely clothed vampire chick on my shirt, so I shouldn’t judge.”
Cassidy laughs nervously and takes Lloyd a few steps away from Awry. “This man is a Librarian.”
“Without glasses or long hair that he can flip to become super sexy?”
“Please tell me you don’t think every librarian moonlights as a stripper.”
“Of course not. Some of them don’t get paid when they have sex.”
“Go back to the car.”
“But-”
“Go back to the fucking car!”
Lloyd snarls and looks like he is about to take a swing at the glaring blonde, but he stops and immediately blows her a kiss. Jogging back to the jeep, he gets in on the driver’s side and rummages through the backseat. With a laugh of success, the unstable man turns back around with the megaphone in his hands. Closing the door and taking a seat against the tire, Lloyd calmly waits for an opportunity to bark his comments from across the street.
“I expected a serial killer to be more violent and less . . . entertaining,” Awry states when Cassidy returns to speak with him. He gobbles down another burger and pouts when he sees that there is only one left with a piece of onion dangling out of the bun. “I don’t like onions, but beggars cannot be choosers in this new world. That is why I will accept your offer even if your vehicle and companion are heavily damaged. Perhaps this was fate. Fictional stories talk of strange coincidences and I find that they occur in real life as well. Two strangers meet and follow a path to a lifetime of marriage. You stay home on a whim and learn there was an accident that you would have been involved in.”
“Get to the point!” Lloyd announces over the megaphone.
“I’m going to apologize right now for everything he does in the future,” Cassidy whispers after turning her back on the jeep. “Pardon me for rushing to the point, but it kind of sounds like you need someone like us in Cleveland. Maybe we can make a deal that can help with our dwindling supplies and vehicle repairs. That is unless I’m reading your talk about fate the wrong way.”
Awry’s smile flickers for an instant, but Cassidy considers that it might be because the gluttonous Librarian is out of food. As much as she respects his order, the young woman is slightly annoyed that the man appears to have never felt the sting of starvation. Memories of going days without food rise to the surface of her mind, but they lead her to realize that it has been a long time since she suffered true hunger pangs. It strikes her as a possibility that Awry grew up in a similar situation and is simply making the most of his new position. She has heard of Librarians being paid for stories with pleasurable things such as women, food, and anything else that does not distort their memories. Being an order that prides itself on gathering knowledge, it is considered an insult to offer alcohol or drugs to one of their ranks. With a small shrug, Cassidy decides that she has nothing to lose and possibly a few useful items to gain. If anything, having a favor owed to her by a Librarian could come in handy.
“What is it that you need help with?” she asks, cracking her knuckles and rubbing her sore neck. She gives a thumbs up to Lloyd, hoping he keeps his mouth shut for a few minutes. “Gas, water, food, and repairs to the vehicle will only be the beginning. Though it depends on what you need from us. It’s rare that a Librarian accepts the help of a person like me. Not sure any of you have ever been willing to hire a man like Lloyd.”
“We can discuss my request during the drive to Cleveland,” Awry says, accepting Cassidy’s offered arm. He lets her guide him to the passenger side door, which he squeezes through and tries to get comfortable while Lloyd is cramped in the back. “All I will say for now is that you are correct about there being gangs in the city. Yet they are what keeps Cleveland together and safe. What I will ask you to do is prevent them from going to war. More can be explained once we reach our destination.”
“Interesting,” the blonde states as she struggles to start the engine. The jeep roars to life and she pulls back onto the road, a low hum making her worry. “I can tell you right now that this job is going to cost you more than car repairs and supplies. Hope your order is ready to owe these two wanderers a favor.”
*****
Standing at the street corner, Cassidy stares at the lakeshore building that is on the other side of a concrete clearing. A garden is in the center of the circular area, half of it an attempt at nurturing vegetables and the other an array of flowers. The distant structure is like nothing she has ever seen before with the more visible part a glass pyramid and a square tower on its backside. Blocky additions are on the right hand side of the building, which has been covered in vivid pictures that make Cassidy think the residents keep changing their minds about the decorations. Coming off the left and sitting on Lake Erie is a circular structure that is adorned with a patchwork of old concert posters. With the warm and calm weather, there are people fishing along the shore and in small boats, which are meticulously tethered to pylons to avoid floating away. Far in the distance, the outlines of military vessels can be seen waiting to stop anyone from trying to escape into Canada. Not wanting to dwell on darker times and how the rest of the world is going on without her, Cassidy turns her gaze back to their destination. Milling about the building’s entrance are at least thirty people, who are dressed in a variety of outfits that range from tight leather to a simple jeans and t-shirt combination.
“This is going to be awesome,” Lloyd whispers, bouncing on his toes. Not having a shirt to perfectly fit in with the locals, he keeps glancing at the image of a muscular, albino biker on his chest. “I always wanted to come here. That’s the problem with being a wanted man. You have to hide and stay away from the fun things in life. Don’t even get me started on trying to get a taxi or finding food. It almost made me want to turn myself in.”
“Weren’t you caught at the Bronx Zoo?” Cassidy asks, subtly checking the gun beneath her pea coat.
“Yes, but that was to see the baboons. Totally worth it,” the grinning man replies, waving to the distant gang members. Two of them hurry back into the building, signaling for the others to keep an eye on the strangers. “I think they saw us standing here in the open. Our master plan of kindergarten level stealth has failed. Now we must fight or talk our way to victory. Please let me take option one. Uh, why do you keep scowling at the building?”
“I just don’t get it,” she admits while scratching her head. Noticing a pamphlet sticking out from under a discarded box, Cassidy wonders if the place is still open to the public. “The Metal Minstrels are supposed to be one of the strongest gangs in Cleveland, but I see no defenses on this building. They’re vulnerable from the water and the street. That glass is too easy to break and they haven’t put any barricades up. These people can’t possibly be protected solely by their reputation. I know Awry said they could be arrogant and were more interested in living a comfortable life than causing trouble, but this looks downright lazy. What’s with the odd name too?”
“I’m guessing somebody is developing a fear of getting sued over copyright infringement as our story progresses,” Lloyd replies with a shrug. Stretching his arms over his head, the killer gets closer to the gang’s territory and sits on a flat-topped pylon. “Never mind. They could have traps or use a tactic of baiting enemies inside to maintain a home advantage. From what we’ve been told, only the smaller gangs fight over territory while the bigger ones focus more on maintaining the city. The Metal Minstrels, which does have a nice ring to it, might not have any real threats to worry about.”
“Then why do they need people like us?”
“Because we needed an obstacle in Ohio to overcome.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t have more than one adventure in each location when involved in a journey tale.”
“I’m just going to pretend that makes sense and approach the people with guns.”
Cassidy tucks her hands into her pockets as she heads for the nervous gang members, their eyes locked on the strangers. She tries to keep their attention on her, which gets easier when Lloyd raises his arms. Most of the locals are armed with clubs, chains, and knives because of the difficulty in finding bullets. The few with guns remain in the back, but refuse to lift their weapons until they know there is a real threat. Without being challenged, the intruders get within swinging range before the nearest gang member pounds his metal bat on the ground. Stopping at the wordless warning, Cassidy pulls a wooden book out of her coat pocket and presents it to a woman with a long chain coiled around her arm. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, but the sensation only makes the young woman excited and more aware of her surroundings instead of distracted by fear. This heightened awareness becomes stronger when the Librarian symbol is accepted and the mob parts to let the one with the baseball bat lead the two travelers toward the building.
Chains and a sturdy lock are removed from the inside of the doors, allowing Cassidy and Lloyd to enter into the surprisingly clean museum. There is clutter on the floor and bags of garbage collected from their latest party, but the surfaces show signs of being recently scrubbed and polished. Unlike other landmarks around the country, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has been preserved by those who have claimed it as their home. Only a few display cases have been broken into and destroyed, the items taken by overzealous gang members. The gift shop has been turned into an armory, which is guarded by a shotgun-carrying man in zebra-striped pants and a leather jacket. With all of the levels and fixtures above their heads, the travelers find it impossible to get a clear view of everything or discern how many people are watching them. It is obvious that an intruder would be blind to any danger from above until they reach the middle of the pyramid where stairs lead to the second floor. Perched on elevated platforms, at least five snipers are relaxing next to their readied weapons. The barrels of their guns are delicately placed against one of the pyramid’s panes of reinforced glass, which can be flipped down by the press of a remote control. As she is led deeper into the hideout, Cassidy notices wired explosives at several key points that will bring this part of the structure down. She smiles and silently admits that she was wrong about the place being unprotected. If anybody ever fought their way inside and the Metal Minstrels believe they will lose, the gang can simply collapse the building on their enemies’ heads.