Authors: Jeremy Mac
The
streets are vacant. Although there’s a curfew it’s way too early in the morning
for anyone to give notice to Mongoose and Max being out, other than those
policing the perimeter and most of them have become so lax in their duties from
a long night that they don’t notice them sneaking down the street.
About
a half block away from the gate Mongoose checks left and right to locate all
the gate guards. Only two; one is on the high planks of the gate wall, hunkered
down behind it, steadily dozing off and paying little attention to anything,
the second one is down by the gate door, sitting in a chair, head down, chin to
chest.
Another long boring night for the gate keepers.
Mongoose mapped out how he would do this several days ago (during the day) but
he anticipated for the guards to be at least half alert with maybe even a
couple more of them on post. This is going to be almost too easy.
Mongoose
whispers, “Max,” and the dog
glances
up at him.
Mongoose points a finger at him and gives the order, “Stand guard.”
Max
stands alert. He will not move an inch unless he senses danger or if Mongoose
is in trouble.
With
Max’s watchful eyes on him Mongoose sneaks off to the farthest side of the
gates wall, to the corner by the office where he was required to leave his
weapons. He doesn’t need them at this very moment. He has something else that
will immobilize both guards quite nicely. He brings this out of his pants and
quietly comes up behind the guard sitting in the chair and a second before he
brings the lead pipe down on top of the sleeping man’s head, he freezes. The slightest
movement rings alarm out of the corner of his eye.
Another
guard, strolling atop the wall surrounding the perimeter to the right, holding
his rifle in crucifixion fashion, across his shoulders, behind the neck, head
down, clearly tired and bored, up walking around and trying his best to stave
off sleep and hold out until his shift is over.
Mongoose
ducks down behind the guard he is about to clobber. Max’s head twitches upward
at the guard, a low rumble in his throat. Of course Mongoose is too far away to
hear this, as is any guard, but he knows the low growl is there nonetheless.
Mongoose
waves his arm low, getting Max’s attention, and points directly to the ground,
a signal to “Stay and stand down”.
The
growl ceases but he keeps a direct stare on the guard up above and on his
master.
The
guard ambles a few more paces and without breaking stride he turns on heels and
heads back toward the way he came. Once he is out of sight Mongoose takes a
gander around once more, listens for any sounds, and when he is satisfied that
all is clear he bonks the guard on the noggin. He makes
a
“
ungh
”
sound but never moves.
Mongoose
glances up at the guard on the top planks and sees that he remains clueless. He
will need to take care of him differently. It will be tactless but effective.
That’s the idea, anyway.
The
shoes he wears are soft sole, he doesn’t make a sound climbing the ladder or
when he crosses the wooden planks, heading swiftly toward the guard. About
fifteen feet away, almost there, he plants his foot on a board that creaks so
loudly when it takes his weight it sounds like an old wooden door opening into
the hollow of an abandoned house.
The
guard stirs. Mongoose doesn’t hesitate for a
second,
he rushes ahead, wielding the pipe in both hands over his head.
The
guard doesn’t know what hit him.
Mongoose
leaves their rifles, thinking that when the poop hits the fan the guards may
just be rousing from la
la
land and he will want them
to be able to defend themselves.
He
goes to the gate office, it is locked, but it won’t be for long.
The
early morning slate gray sky foretells of an ominous beginning.
Those
far beyond the high walls of The Pinnacle, the dregs of what was once known as
the City of Cities, are yanked from their sleeping dreams and those who are
already of the woken world, although far from their visual ability to actual
see it so they visualize it in their minds eye, take their attention northward.
For once again, and barely over a month later, the siren wails throughout the
city.
In
a matter of seconds swarms of men and women pull on their clothes and make
their way to the arsenal. Lathan and Taya meet James in the hall.
“Maddick’s,”
James says. “They’ve invaded.
Came right through the front
gate as if someone let them in.
We’ve got to stop them from penetrating
any deeper.”
In
the arsenal higher ranks bark their orders at lines of battle-men who are given
their weapons and are exiting the building.
Lathan
takes a pistol and turns to Taya. “Take this. Go back and find a good place to
hide and stay there until I come for you.”
“No.
I’m going with you.”
“Taya,
don’t argue with me. You’re going to get hurt or worse if you go out there.
Please, just do what I say. Now go.”
Taya
grabs hold of him and kisses him hard. Holding him tight she says in his ear,
“Please be careful. I love you.”
Down
in the parking garage Lathan dresses for the occasion with guns, knives, and
his sword. He punches the gas and the Battle Durango roars out of the entrance.
The Pinnacle’s guards are everywhere, shooting their rifles and making their
way toward the gate. Everyone quickly moves out of the vehicles way as it
speeds down the street. Three more vehicles with heavy artillery machine guns
mounted on them follow Lathan.
Coming
from the opposite direction is an army of half-mad Maddick’s shouting and
shooting blindly into the buildings, their own war machines entering through
the gate. The vehicles behind Lathan fire off rounds from the big guns mounted
on them, tearing apart several men up ahead and spraying red mist on the
Durango as it passes by them. Someone gets his head blown off and blood and
brains splatter across the windshield and Lathan turns on the wipers and wiper
fluid to clear it away. The Maddick’s bullets do nothing to the new and
improved SUV, he runs through many of them who foolishly stand their ground to
shoot directly at him but their bullets ricochet off the glass. The outside
body is riddled with holes but nothing pierces the armor within it.
The
Maddick’s war machines come up fast, heading straight for Lathan. The gunmen on
the vehicles flanking Lathan take aim and one of the Maddick driver’s is hit
and swerves over into a building, crashing into the building wall, sending it’s
gunman soaring over the truck’s cab his head bursts against the wall like a watermelon
upon impact. Lathan hits the gas and sails through the gap this creates,
leaving the remaining vehicles to a jousting-like match, only with big guns for
lances and automobiles for horses.
Holding
his fast pace Lathan quickly scans the gate and those among it. He steers
right, knocking a half dozen Maddick’s out of the way, and turns the SUV with
the driver’s side facing the perimeter wall, providing him with cover. Lathan
comes out blazing hand-cannons, instantly taking down another half dozen. He
grabs a grenade, waits for the right moment, pulls the pin, and throws it. It
lands in the cab of a truck pulling through the gate. The driver and passenger
look down at the floorboard, then at each other, and scramble to get out but
the grenade explodes before they are able to open the doors, blowing them to
bits. This creates a road block. Another vehicle behind the truck rams into its
tail end and tries to push it out of the way. Lathan throws two more grenades
and the blast tears the vehicles entire front end apart.
The
dust isn’t even settled when the Maddick’s take to their feet and pour in
around the exploded vehicles, charging in like an army of ants.
No
more grenades.
Here
you are smart guy, right smack-dab in the middle of it all. What’s next?
Dozens
upon dozens of Maddick’s rush in and scatter like water through a broken dam.
Many invade by way over the perimeter’s wall, overwhelming the guards there
with rapid fire and throwing up their grappling hooks and scaling the walls.
Some come through the alleys for sneak attacks. They go deeper into The
Pinnacle, destroying the markets, breaking into buildings and homes, shooting
down civilians like dogs, terrorizing women and children. Stabbings and
mutilations are incessant. The siren stops its wail only to be replaced by the
screams and lamentations of hundreds of wounded and war cries of those who
fight.
The
Maddick’s surprise attack is working in their favor but The Pinnacle’s fight is
strong with the advantage of more fire power. It never should have come to
this, a battle of this magnitude, these people should have been doomed, but the
siren went off and forewarned them at the last minute. That siren should have
never sounded off, but somehow it did.
Vincent
halts after coming through the gate, a cold yet pleased gleam in his eyes as he
takes in the chaos, his creation. The Pinnacle’s armament is remarkably
sufficient in their readiness for havoc. No matter, because so are they.
Vincent
draws his pistol and shoots the first person he sees in the head. The masked
man appears behind him, the twin short swords strapped to his back, a pistol in
his belt and a rifle in his hands, his left forearm in a cast. He searches for
only one man, and as if the gods answered him, he hears a roaring engine and a
powerful vehicle comes soaring by. He sees the driver clearly - the dark
swordsman.
The
masked man takes a step forward, then halts, regarding Vincent who then gives
his loyal comrade a simple nod, and the masked man is gone. The masked man’s
personal team follows; seven of the deadliest and most feared of all the
Maddick’s personally trained by the masked man himself. They tear through
anyone in their way, blowing them away with their guns or knifing them down.
One of the seven is shot twice, once in the chest and once in the neck and
falls dead to the ground. Another is shot in the thick muscle of the leg but
keeps going as if it is a mere flesh wound. Others follow, pushing onward to
reach The Pinnacle’s center and beyond, to wrench its heart from its soul and
tear it apart.
Baring
yellow teeth and eyes wide Vincent yells out into the battle.
“Get
out, you twit! Can’t you see it’s blocked up there? Nothing’s moving!”
“Why
is it blocked?” Bruno asks.
Pan
regards him as if the question really annoys him.
“Well,
gee, I don’t know, let me think. Maybe it’s got something to do with the
explosion that happened a minute ago!”
Bruno’s
brow furrows as he glares at Pan. “Why you always got to talk to me like that?”
“Like
what?”
“Like I’m stupid or something.”
Pan
rolls his eyes and sighs.
“See.
That’s what I’m talking about right there. You act like everything I say or do
is so stupid.”
“Well,
maybe,
that is just how you do act.
Ya
ever
think of that?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s
how it is?”
“That’s
exactly
how it –”
Pan’s
words are cut short by Bruno’s huge hands as they wrap around his neck, choking
off his air. Bruno pushes him back into the corner of his seat, knocking him
back and forth as he squeezes the hell out of his throat. Pan’s eyes bulge from
his sockets while making little squeaking, hacking sounds, all the while trying
to worm his fingers into his lunatic buddy’s death grip to free himself but it
is no use, Bruno is too strong. Having to resort to something else, Pan reaches
out for anything that may help and grabs the first thing his hand finds on the
dashboard. He starts hitting Bruno in the head and face with it over and over
but Bruno is unfazed and if anything it causes him to tighten his grip.
“What
the hell is wrong with you two?” A voice hollers through the passenger side
window. It’s one of their
henchman
on his way into The
Pinnacle who happened to notice the two at each other’s throats. Well, Bruno is
at Pan’s throat and all Pan seems to be doing is pissing Bruno off even more by
slapping him in the face with a flyswatter. “You’re wasting all this time and
energy on each other when you could be in there, taking it out on them! Let’s
go!”
Bruno
releases Pan and Pan takes a huge gasp of air, rubbing his neck and throat.
Both sit silently, facing forward, expecting the other to say something but not
wanting to be the one to say it first.
Finally
Pan says, “I’m ready to kill something now.”
“Me too.”
They
jump out of the truck and a pleased smile curves Pan’s cracked lips for two
reasons when he steps through the gate: One, it’s his first step inside
The Pinnacle, and two, to see it fall.
Pan
is about to join in the carnage when he sees someone familiar. He grabs Bruno
and points in the distance. “Look familiar?”
Bruno
squints.
“That little bastard.”
Pan
tells him what the plan is and Bruno growls his approval.