Brian Steele - 4POCALYPSE - Four Tales of a Dark Future

Jasmine stood and paced the small office. “Can you get me maps and pictures of what it looks like out there now? And the last known coordinates of where he’s supposedly located?”

Herne sighed. Sat down and dry washed his face. “I could have you arrested, you know, for disobeying orders.”

“But you won’t,” Jasmine said with a smile. Although a grown woman, and a woman to be feared, she then went to him and sat on his lap buttering him up and digging into his soft spot and pulling on his heartstrings. “I’ve known you all my life, Uncle Baul. And, I know under that gruff is a man I love more than anything else in the world, a man that my parents loved and adored… a man who is my mother’s brother and my father’s best friend… why would you want to stop me?” She kissed him on the cheek, and then hugged him. “I need to stop this, and it’s not just for the bounty… It’s for dad. He would want this… He would let me go.”

Baul knuckled tears from his eyes, coughed again, then said, “I’ll get you anything you want and everything I think you’ll need.” He chuckled. “You’ve been doing this crap since you were two years old. You know Dooriya is gonna kill me when she finds out I’m helping you.”

Jasmine stood and paced the small office again, thinking. She then turned back to Herne and said, “I’ve already spoken to Aunt Doori.” He started to say something. “I didn’t want her to tell you, or influence you. I wanted you to help me on your own.”

“And she’s for it?”

Jasmine nodded. “She suggested the gypsy disguise for only she and God knows why. A premonition, I suppose. She wants me to be the helpless and absent minded gypsy with a deck of tarot cards.”

“Oh, damn. She read your cards, didn’t she?” Jasmine didn’t answer. “The death card?” No answer. “Oh, fuck…”

“Can I go with you?” Officer Jim Long asked, watching as Jasmine tugged on a vest with two narrow holsters sewn on the inside in the back, one holster on each side. Her grandmother, a ROM Gypsy who migrated up and down the Midwest like a goose in search of a warm place to settle, had worn the vest. The holsters had originally been pockets used to pilfer goods when grandma shoplifted her nightly meals. Her friend, Tank, had altered the vest to not only support the weapons but he also added a thin liner that would help keep her warm.

Beneath the vest was a rawhide leather shirt and to compliment the shirt, Jasmine wore black leather pants with rawhide patches sewn across her ass cheeks, inner thighs, and knees. She wore two pistol holsters and two sheaths that held throwing knives. She then shoved a specially designed semi-automatic Mossberg pistol grip shotgun into the right shoulder holster, and then a specifically designed grenade cannon in the left shoulder holster in the back. Then a semi-automatic Glock in each holster on her sides, and finally she shoved two knives, specially designed for throwing, into the final two sheaths. She then wrapped around her neck and down her chest, two specially designed ammo belts, buckled them, and fastened them to the waist belt that held clips in pouches wrapped around her waist.

She turned. Knelt down a couple of times, and then darted across the room and up the wall before flipping over. She turned to Jim Long and smiled. “Come at me,” she said in a teasing manner.

“I haven’t heard, but has hell frozen over?” Long said in a somewhat jocular manner.

“Come on, silly, I want to make sure I can still move around. This gear is adding a few pounds and the Mossberg and cannon feel a little bulky.”

Long leaped at her and found himself on the floor. He looked up at the smile that he had secretly fallen in love with. A smile that made his day but broke his heart when he saw the pain she was living with every time they found a body wasted by the drugs from the Last Pharmacist. Although he openly voiced his disagreement, he knew he would never be able to stop her. He also knew she wasn’t going to let him go with her.

“Well?” he asked as she pulled him up. “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a nod. “Much better than I thought. Remind me to thank Tank when I see him. The man is brilliant at designing clothes and weapons.”

“Semi-automatic shotguns, no pumping, just pull the trigger. And the frigging cannon is a hoot,” Officer Long said with a laugh. “I can’t even imagine how he did it.”

Jasmine grinned and said, “He is the master of weapons, that’s for sure.”

“And anything for his Jasmine,” Long continued in a jealous tone.

She laughed as she pulled on a jacket often worn by gypsies. She then spun around, and as she turned, she pulled both shoulder guns and pulled the triggers. Two loud clicks echoed. She then shoved the shoulder guns back into their holster, whipped out both Glocks and pulled the triggers. Then, while shoving the Glocks into their holster she kicked over Jim’s head.

“Like frigging dancing, babe. You move like a frigging gypsy dancing around a camp fire.” She hugged him. “But I’d feel better if you took me with you.”

“I know you would, but you’re the only one who knows who Baul and Doori are, and they’re not getting any younger.” She kissed him. “I need you here, and I want you here when I come back. Besides them, I need someone here for me to come back to.” She looked at him for a long moment. “I need you to want me to come back as well.”

He grabbed her and held her so tightly he almost felt like he was going to break her. “How could it be any other way?”

Although she had insight, she never imagined that this would the last time she’d ever kiss Jim.

Sitting at the dinner table, Dooriya turned over another tarot card. She mumbled a faint, “Huh,” two times before she turned over the next card. She looked up and said, “I think it’s a family… go out of your way to help them, they’ll remember.”

Jasmine nodded.

“Hmm. A Knight… There’s a young man—.”

“Oh, no. No young man. That would break Jim’s heart.”

“He’ll survive. I don’t like the little whiny ass anyway. You can do better,” Dooriya said with a chuckle, swiping her hand as if shooing away a fly. “You’ll need that family later. Understand? They’re a key to this whole thing… I don’t know why but it’s important.” Jasmine nodded. “Oh, shit, your uncle’s home. Not a word. He was so pissed when he got home last night I thought he was going to have a coronary.” Jasmine sighed. “He doesn’t want you to go, Jaz, and I don’t blame him. I’m scared to death.”

“I’ll make it.”

“Honey, the cards aren’t in your favor. That death over the nine of swords shows you’re surrounded, and you’re… you’re down on the floor, and… And, believe me when I say this, I love you as much as he does. You shouldn’t do this… You’re also the only person I know who has inherited your grandmother’s gift,” she chuckled, “And puts up with my weird crap.”

Jasmine smiled as she dropped her chin on the crook of her elbow, falling into deep thought. Even though she knew her odds were extremely low that she’d be back, she had to try. The bounty was at ten million dollars in US credits and a choice of five acres of land and a home built to any desired specifications, anywhere in the planned reconstruction of the US. She had heard the Hawaiian Islands, although nearly devastated during the impact and subsequent volcano eruptions, had safe places to live. She wanted so much to have a small villa built, a place for her, and her aunt and uncle. She wanted to feel the sun on her face, and she knew Baul’s health was slowly deteriorating. He was nearing underground life expectancy and had a year, maybe two to live.