The pipe itself blew apart, and was shortened to no more than a foot off the ground. A two-foot long shard took off from the conflagration like a rocket, heading straight at Richard, traveling a few feet off the ground. He heard a whistling sound as it flew over his head. The shard caught Pig directly in the chest, and tore through his body effortlessly. He was thrown several yards back and lay on the ground flopping for a few seconds like a dying fish, with one end of the shard protruding from either side of his body.
The fitting itself had blown thirty or forty feet into the air. Richard had almost forgotten about it, but looked up in time to see it plummeting earthward. From his position it was impossible to judge where it would land, and in any case he didn’t have time to get out of the way.
In a panic he followed its trajectory. It not only missed his companions, but missed any of the people standing around, finally striking the ground with a sickening thud and embedding itself like a fallen meteorite into the pavement.
An enormous discharge of gasoline vapour now erupted from the shredded stub of the pipe, producing a deep roaring sound. The air above the pipe mouth swam within the swirling fumes. The stench of gasoline was overpowering.
Richard rose to his knees and glanced behind him to check on the others. Danny stood next to Swallow who, guarded by Peachy, knelt on the ground and stared into nothingness. Danny was unguarded. Carrie and Lacy were some distance behind, also rising to their knees, still guarded by Hammer. They were stunned, but unhurt.
Crack struggled to his feet. Richard’s heart thumped against his ribcage as he saw that Crack’s gun had fallen from his belt and lay on the ground a couple of yards away. The gun was on the side away from Richard. Crack hadn’t noticed it was missing.
For several seconds, Crack stood staring at the flaring vapour, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Finally a sneering smile formed on his face, and he took several steps toward the escaping gas. Richard quickly hauled himself up, his mind racing, trying to calculate how to reach the fallen gun.
Chuckles, lying only a few yards from the blasting column, also slowly struggled to stand. The giant was stunned, barely able to make it to his knees. Mansur lay on the ground. There was a spot of blood on his forehead and he wasn’t moving.
Crack strolled to within arm’s length of the flare, his features bizarrely distorted by the churning gas. He held out a hand into the vapour jet and watched as it swirled around his fingers. His image was surreal, as if he was fading in and out of existence. He turned back to face the others.
Nobody else had noticed the gun.
“Well,” Crack yelled above the roar of the escaping gas, “it looks like circumstances are about to change for me – change very much for the better.” He scanned over them then sniffed at the air laden with the stench of gasoline.
“You, on the other hand…” he continued, gesturing expansively at Richard and the other prisoners, “Be thankful you were here to witness it first-hand – the beginning of a new era!”
“What about your promise?” yelled Danny.
Crack laughed. “You really are a hoot, you know that? Too bad you won’t live long enough to learn from your mistakes."
Crack reached for the gun in his belt. It wasn’t there. He scanned the ground around his feet and finally spotted it. It was his last chance. Free of Pig’s grip, he charged.
Crack dove for the gun. Richard was a couple of yards away when Crack wrapped his fingers around it. Richard leapt forward and landed with his right foot on Crack’s hand. The gangster screamed but jumped up still holding the gun. Richard’s injured right arm exploded with pain as they wrestled for the weapon. It was only a matter of time until he lost this battle.
Crack fought to maneuver the gun in Richard’s direction. He fired several times, but the shots missed as Richard held his arm in check. One of the shots struck the pavement and ricocheted into the still-flaring gas pipe, producing a spark. With a breathtaking rush of wind, the gas-flare exploded into a column of fire, like an enormous flame-thrower, blasting straight into the sky with a deafening roar.
At the sight of the flames, Crack screamed and shrank away in terror. In an instant the ruthless killer was cowering like a child. He collapsed to his knees and dropped the gun to the ground as he covered his face with his trembling hands.
Richard saw his chance. He dove for the gun, grabbed it, and staggered to his feet. He backed away with the gun in his hand. Crack now stood between him and the flaming column. He pointed the gun at Crack but hesitated, reluctant to execute the terrified, cowering gangster in cold blood. In seconds the opportunity had passed; Crack snapped out of his trance, jumped up and leapt toward him. Richard squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore a gash in Crack’s left arm. Crack paused and grasped the wound, blood gushing around his fingers.
His face contorted in fury, he screamed, “I’ll teach you to fuck with me!”
He flew at Richard. Richard fired again. The bullet ripped into Crack’s right shoulder, and the bulbous head of the octopus tattoo began to spout blood. The impact knocked the gangster off balance, and he stumbled backwards toward the flare. A horrifying scream issued from Crack’s lips as his head and shoulders descended into the firestorm. There was a sickening reek of burning flesh as he re-emerged with his hair and clothes on fire.
A dreadful grin on the horror that was now his face, Crack lurched back toward Richard. Richard fired once more, hitting him squarely in the chest, and once more Crack was driven off balance and back toward the flames. For several seconds he fought to remain upright, teetering back on his heels and waving his arms desperately at his sides. He finally lost the battle, shrieking in terror as he collapsed and descended forever into the raging inferno.
A low rumble began to emanate from somewhere far below the base of the pipe. Richard could hear it rolling from deep underground toward the surface. Something between an intense vibration and an audible sound, it traveled slowly up the pipe from below and the mutilated stub began to tremble as the pressure approached the open air.
“Hit the dirt!” Richard yelled to the others. He dove to the pavement. The ground shook as if they were in the midst of an earthquake, and the pipe stub vibrated like a gigantic tuning fork. A circular patch of earth around it flexed upward like the skin of a giant bubble as the pressure neared the surface, and the stub was thrust farther and farther upwards.
Finally the earth around the pipe tore apart. A massive explosion blasted what was left of the pipe to pieces with an ear-splitting boom, and a fireball mushroomed into the sky around the opening. It shot straight up, dragging the flames with it. The raging flare was instantly extinguished, and the gas jetting ceased.
There was an eerie silence. A tiny bird twittered somewhere in the distance. Crack’s horrifying remains lay smoldering on the ground. Only a tiny wisp of smoke rose from the gaping hole where the pipe had once stood. Nobody moved for several seconds. Chuckles finally began to stir and dragged himself to his feet. His hair was singed, and he’d suffered burns, but he was alive. Mansur had regained consciousness, and now staggered to his feet and pointed his gun at Richard.
“Give it up,” said Carrie, who was standing behind him with a gun in her hand.
Richard glanced back and saw the body of Hammer lying where Carrie and Lacy had once stood. Mansur flinched as Carrie thrust the gun into his ribs. Lacy, who was standing beside Carrie, took Mansur’s gun and held it on Chuckles.
“It’s over, Mansur,” said Richard. “Take what’s left of your crew and clear out.”
Mansur nodded resignedly to Chuckles and they started walking. Richard turned to find Peachy, but Peachy lay on the ground where he’d been guarding Swallow.
His throat had been slit.
“Behind you!” Carrie yelled.
Richard turned and stared. Standing behind Danny with Peachy’s gun in his hand, was the little kidnapper, Swallow.
“The treasure does not belong to you!” He screamed. “You are trespassers! Interlopers! God himself promised me these riches. Nothing can stop me from claiming them for my own!”
Swallow had the fixed stare of one for whom reality has lost all meaning.
“Drop your weapons!” he screamed, pointing the gun at Danny.
Reluctantly, Richard, Carrie, and Lacy did as he ordered.
“We’ve got no quarrel with you,” said Richard. “We don’t care about the gas. You take it – just let us go…”
“It is God’s judgment that you all must die.” said Swallow, matter-of-factly. He jammed his gun under Danny’s chin. Richard began to move, but Swallow thrust the gun upward and he stopped in his tracks.
Swallow glanced to his left. Suddenly his eyes widened and terror spread over his face. From out of nowhere, Zonk appeared and trotted toward him and Danny.
“Get away!” Screamed the kidnapper. “Be gone, hound of Satan! Torment me no more! I will send you back to Hell!”
He moved his gun from under Danny’s chin to fire on the dog, but by now Zonk was so close he couldn’t line up a shot. Danny, still with his hands tied, ran at Swallow trying to knock his gun away.
“No!” yelled Richard.
Swallow quickly overpowered Danny and hurled him roughly to the ground. He stood and hesitated, as if deciding whether to shoot the boy or the dog first.
Richard scrambled to retrieve his gun. He picked it up from the ground, but before he could stand, a shot exploded nearby and he looked up. An expanding blotch of red had blossomed on Swallow’s chest.
The little kidnapper paused for a moment with his mouth open, as if unable to believe that he could actually be harmed. Finally, Swallow’s fingers uncurled from around his weapon and it dropped from his hand. Without a word, he toppled to the ground like a falling tree and lay still.
Richard scanned to his right. Carrie stood holding a smoking gun in both hands in front of her.
Richard cast around him. Lacy stood next to Carrie, and now held a gun on both Mansur and Chuckles. Both she and Carrie were covered with scrapes and bruises, but otherwise unharmed. Danny staggered to his feet, bruised, beaten, shaken up, but alive. Tears ran unabashedly down Richard’s face. It was truly over. He stumbled over to Danny and embraced him.
“Thank God!” he said, his voice breaking as he hugged his brother.
A New Beginning
The massive rectangle of the Wal-Mart compound was barely visible below from the hilltop where Richard and Carrie sat by the fire. Behind them stood the battered, scraped, but still operational Black Cherry. Richard felt relaxed and content. In fact, it occurred to him, he was more relaxed and content than he’d ever felt before in his life. He pulled Carrie closer and they lazily watched the flames lick over the burning logs.
“I was thinking…” he said casually.
“You were thinking…” echoed Carrie.
“What do they have at the compound in the way of schools?”
“Schools? Not much – once in a while a few of the better educated will put on an informal teaching session. The kids have lots of chores to do. They don’t have much time for education.”
“Still - we can’t just let the knowledge and achievements of our civilization fade away and disappear…”
“No offense, but look where that knowledge and those achievements have gotten us.”
“It wasn’t knowledge that got us there, it was human greed and stupidity. Maybe I’m a hopeless optimist, but I still believe that with knowledge and experience come wisdom.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We could start a school – for the compound.”
“We? As in you and me? So you’re not going back to the College? You’d be throwing away a pretty desirable job. We’re not rich, after all. Don’t you remember? The army confiscated McAllister’s cache.”
“They got the big one – but…”
Carrie sat up straight and turned to him. “The gas station!” she said. “I’d totally forgotten about that!”
“I didn’t tell the army about it, and I don’t think anybody else did either. Crack’s dead. Mansur and Chuckles are in the slammer for the foreseeable future. I don’t see why we can’t just claim whatever’s there. It could keep our little community solvent for a long time – if we manage it properly. Anyway, Vancouver’s dying – it just doesn’t know it yet. The gasoline from the cache will help, but not for long. Out here is the future. I’d rather throw my cards in with that future, but we’ll still need schools – and schools are something I know.”
“It sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this.”
“Yeah – I even came up with a name. What do you think of ‘James Keller Memorial School’?”
Carrie’s eyes clouded over at the suggestion. “I like that name,” she said. “But where would we live? You’re not proposing that we stay on at the compound?”
“With Doyle still gunning for us?”
“I can handle Doyle, but I don’t know if you could handle the plunge in lifestyle after living in that palace of yours in Vancouver.”
“Does everybody out here live in the compound?”
“A few brave souls have occupied some of the abandoned houses nearby. They do their own policing and still have close ties to the compound.”