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

Sumbitchen gypsies, cain’t trust’em, the stranger thought. He then, as if after a flash of though, laughed and said, “You ain’t so smart, you didn’t chain’ba a round.”

“Don’t have too, it’s an automatic, oh, and look, the safety isn’t on either,” Jasmine answered, smiling.

The smile sent another shiver down his back as he leaned in and took a closer look. He whistled and said, “Sumbitch if’n you didn’t get the drop on me…” Sumbitchen, gypsies.

Jasmine reached over, plucked the pistol from his hand, and tucked it in her belt, and as his eyes followed her hand he nearly stepped back in surprise, she was carrying two pistols on her hip. “Sumfuckingbitch,” he shouted and then thought, sumbitchen, gypsies.

“What’ your name?” Jasmine asked, smiling, almost giggling.

“Toby,” The stranger answered.

“You know, Toby, I’m such a good gal, I’m gonna let you sit up front,” Jasmine said. Her words were in the midst of the same mocking laugh. “You’re’n gonna ease yerself on that bike and put yer arms behind your back,” she continued in the same thick accent. “And I’m gonna do you one better. I’m going to stick this here gun in your belt, and it’s going to be pointing at your balls. You make one move and ka-pow, got it?”

Toby gulped. Sumbitchen, gypsies

In the distance, she could hear the faint roar of another freight train following the previous one. In less than five minutes, the tornado passed maybe twenty yards from where they stood. The roar was horrible and the debris was worse. She saw every imaginable thing she could think of in the funnel, from animals to decayed human bodies.

While Toby swung a leg over the Harley, Jasmine looked around, expecting a partner or two to rush out of the darkness to come to his aid; yet, she saw nothing and heard nothing but the roar. She returned the shotgun to its place in her pack, tightened her the straps, and eased up behind him and cuffed him with his zip lock ties.

“Head on the gas tank, Toby,” She said, gently pushing his head down. “Head on the gas tank or I leave your worthless body here for the next tornado to drag all the way to Canada.”

Toby laid his forehead on the gas tank, mumbling, “And what’cha think ya gonna do, use me as bait to get across the barrens?”

She tucked his pistol between his belt and stomach with the barrel pointed at his crotch. She practiced grabbing the handle and whispering, “pow,” and he flinched each time. The act sent a pain to his groin. He winced.

“Oh, no-no. I want to meet Owen. I want to rape him, brutalize him, kill him, then cook and eat him. And if you’re nice, I might share some of it with you. But for sure my belly and pack will be full,” Jasmine said in a manner, tone, and accent that she remembered her grandmother used when confronted by someone. Her grandmother’s presence usually made the shyer ones slink back and those that were brave gave it a second thought but in the end usually backed off. “I’m also low on money. I can’t spend credits outside the city.”

“Gypsies don’t eat people. You’d steal dem blind, but you ain’t got it in you,” Toby said with a slight stutter followed by a faint slurp.

“Oh, yes we do. We have for hundreds of years. Sometimes we just drank their blood but mostly we feasted. I for one love the taste of a man’s heart.”

“Sumbitch,” Toby uttered. “Goddamn sumbitch.” He shook as if cold. “You ain’t gonna make it.” He chuckled. “He’s got too many men from here to the OK entrance.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Jasmine answered. “But I’m betting I will, and you’re going to take me straight to him.”

Toby slurped drool. Something he apparently did when he was scared.

She then reeled in the string of lights, unhooked it from its battery, and put them into one of the saddlebags.

She kick started the Harley and smiled. It was her first real smile since her father died.

She leaned forward. “Better tighten those thighs, Toby. I don’t want to lose you or let that pistol go off on its own,” Jasmine said in a voice that was turning into a coolness that even she had never heard. “And understand, Toby. If you try something and I can’t get to that pistol, my cannon will blow a hole completely through you. If, that is, it doesn’t explode when it hits you…” She hesitated for a beat for the dramatics… “Believe me when I say this, Toby. I’ll have the cannon out and fired before I hit the ground.”

“Sumbitch,” Toby mumbled as she slowly drove off into the darkness. “Owen will have my heart for lunch tomarra, yes he will…” Then he thought, isn’t that what she said. Oh, sumbitch, she can read minds…

She leaned against him and whispered into his ear, “Mmmm. Maybe he’ll share your heart with me…”

Sumfuckingbitch…

Behind her was the only sanctuary that she had. Behind her was the only family she had. With her, she had a deranged man who would take her to Owen. Certainly, he was no bargaining chip, but superstitious enough to resurrect Owen’s fears from his childhood. Might even be a shield for a couple of minutes. Either way, he was worth bringing with her.

Owen’s id, and a picture of Owen’s dead body, would bring her two hundred and fifty thousand US credits. Credits accepted in all the underground cities throughout the US and would later be accepted in the newly developed US in all states. Money that very few people had.

Alive, Owen was worth zero.

Within five minutes, a new tornado, like a mortician carrying away a body, dropped down and carried away all traces of Jasmine’s tracks as if she had never stood in the grip of Death atop the Nine of Swords.

Through her night-scope binoculars and from a mile out, Jasmine saw the faint glow of campfires. A half a mile out, and with calm winds, she could see the silhouette of shanties, lean-to’s, a few buildings and what looked to be burned out cars and trucks. A quarter of a mile out she stopped the Harley, dropped the kickstand, and then dropped Toby. He fell with a hard thud and exhaled when the impact knocked the wind out of him.

She knelt down. “Make a sound Toby and the second sound you hear will be a bullet,” Jasmine whispered. Toby nodded, then slurped, but said nothing. “How many people are here?” Toby didn’t answer. “Toby, I’m really trying to be nice here. How many?”

“Fif-fifteen men—” He slurped. “Fi-five women. No kids.” He slurped.

“You really need to take care of that slurping problem, Toby. That can’t be healthy.”

“Yes’m,” Toby answered, then slurped. “As— As soon as I can.”

Jasmine removed her binoculars from her backpack and looked at the small, whatever it was—town, village, camp; it was hard to say—looking for guards. She couldn’t see anyone. Although there were small campfires, she didn’t see any people.

“They underground?”

“No. They’s be asleep,” Toby answered sheepishly.

“Toooby,” Jasmine said, dragging out his name as if talking to a child. “You know gypsies have foresight, right? We can predict the future, and we can tell when people are lying. You know that, right?”

“Yes’m,” Toby answered while thinking, sumfuckingbitchen, gypsies. Owen is gonna have my heart for breakfast tomarra…

Jasmine slowly turned, taking a few minutes to look around, looking for anything or anyone. Other than a light wind, sand, and dirt, there was no other movement. She turned back to the town and finally saw a guard. He had been sitting on the other side of the campfire. The glow from the fire blocked him from her vision. He stood and limped over to an old vehicle—she couldn’t tell the make or model—and unzipped and relieved himself. His back arched and he looked up to a dull brown-gray sky. He was dressed in the same old military clothing.