Nolan's Ark Page 13

  “Campaigning’s not going well so far,” she said. “Is it? One mass shooting and a hanging.”

  “Not the sort of thing you see on Fox News,” Kasey said.

  Shirley dragged on the Marlboro so hard that her sunken cheeks practically met in the middle of her face. Then she turned her head to the side, blowing a subtle cloud of smoke in Blaze’s direction. Kasey didn’t know if the gesture was intended as a deliberate accident. She hoped so.

  “Yeah well,” Shirley said. “I hear Rage wants the celebrity endorsement turned up several notches. Apparently we’re lousy cheerleaders and it’s all our fault.”

  “Guy’s a dick,” Kasey said. She said it quietly so Blaze wouldn’t hear her badmouthing his man crush.

  Shirley flicked ash into an empty shot glass on the table.

  “It’s nothing new,” she said. “Politicians have been using famous people as glitter for years. And by God, Rage needs a lot of sparkle tonight. This fucked up campaign of his is going down like a fat kid on a seesaw. It’s not enough for us just to be up there waving and smiling alongside him anymore. Now he wants us to give speeches. To write and prepare speeches. Can you believe that?”

  “He’s the worst President ever,” Kasey said. “Why don’t you tell him to shove it up his ass?”

  Shirley’s head jerked towards the window. “Have you seen the alternative? What’s your name darling?”

  “Kasey.”

  “Have you seen the alternative Kasey?” Shirley said.

  Kasey stared longingly outside. “Better than being stuck in here.”

  Shirley was already halfway down the cigarette. This was sprint smoking at its finest. The next one was out the pack, lying on the table next to the matches and waiting to go. “Where are your people Kasey?”

  “Dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re alone?”

  “I’ve got a friend somewhere,” Kasey said. “But I don’t know where.”

  Shirley glanced at Blaze. The Chief-of-Security continued to pour Jack Daniels down his neck, both hands wrapped firmly around the bottle. His raspy breathing was so loud it sounded like it was coming through a PA.

  “So he owns you now?” Shirley asked.

  Kasey shook her head. She leaned across the table, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  “If he puts a hand on me I’ll kill him.”

  Shirley stabbed the remainder of the cigarette into the shot glass and immediately lit up Marlboro number two. She offered the pack to Kasey then pulled it away quickly with an embarrassed smile.

  “Don’t mind me sitting here do you?” she asked.

  “No,” Kasey said.

  Quite the opposite, she thought.

  There was a pained smile on Shirley’s face as she held the cigarette in between her index and middle fingers. Ordinarily the smell of cigarettes made Kasey want to barf but tonight she barely noticed it.

  “Be smart kiddo,” Shirley said. “Want a little advice from an older head who’s been round the block? Do whatever it takes to get through this. You can always run later when it’s a good time but today’s not a good time. Right here, right now…well you’ve been out there. Yeah? It’s been what? A couple of hours since the attack and already the world’s gone feral. Didn’t take much to flip the switch did it?”

  “Be smart?” Kasey said. “Is that what you’re doing in the bedroom down there? Is that what they call it nowadays?”

  The urban Athena mask slipped for a second to reveal a frightened woman sitting opposite Kasey.

  “I want to see my family again,” she said.

  Kasey nodded. “Husband? Kids?”

  “Sister,” Shirley said. “My younger sister. She was at the Paramount Party too but we lost track of each other and after the attack well, I looked for her. Almost didn’t get on this damn bus. I’m still kinda hoping she’s on the other one, the blue one that Jezebeth Black took.”

  “Shirley and Lisa Fontaine,” Kasey said. “The Fontaine sisters. I read an article about you guys not so long ago. She’s the one who plays Viking Chick in the Retaliator movies right?”

  “That’s her,” Shirley said, her face lighting up. “She’s heavily pregnant too, which means…”

  “BLAZE!”

  It was Mickey the driver. “BLAZE! You better get up here right now. We got a problem on our hands. A big fucking problem.”

  Blaze stared down the yellow brick road for a second. Then he groaned and took a hearty swig of JD before screwing the cap back on and tossing the bottle onto the couch. As he stood up he slapped himself hard on the face – not just once but several times. Just one of those slaps would have knocked the average man into oblivion.

  The Chief-of-Security tied his loose buttons and walked towards the driver’s cabin.

  Shirley and Kasey both leaned out of the booth, watching as Blaze spoke with the man behind the wheel.

  “What is it?” Blaze said.

  “Left hand window,” Mickey the driver said. “Take a look at what’s riding up our ass.”

  Blaze went over to the left side and pushed his face up against the glass. His face wrinkled into a tense grimace.

  He walked over to the bottom of the stairs. Cupping both hands around his mouth, Blaze yelled up the staircase, loud enough for everyone in the Los Angeles region to hear him.

  “SIR! You’d better come down and take a look at this.”

  “Be right there,” Rage’s muffled voice replied.

  Blaze straightened up his tie as he waited for the President. He also flattened down his collar.

  The clatter of shoes thumping off the staircase made Kasey wince. Everyone and everything on this bus was so damn loud.

  Rage and a small cohort of Secret Service descended to the lower deck. As they gathered in the aisle Blaze mumbled something in the boss’s ear. With a couple of agents shadowing his every move, Rage went over and peered outside.

  “Goddamn it,” he barked, stepping back with his hands on his hips. He stood there for almost a full minute in silence.

  “This is all I need,” he said eventually.

  Kasey and Shirley exchanged confused glances.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Shirley asked.

  “Don’t know,” Kasey answered. “But I’m going over to the window to take a look. You coming?”

  “You bet.”

  Kasey slipped out of the booth and Shirley followed. They crept quietly over to the window, not wanting to be noticed by anyone down front.

  Kasey heard it before she saw it – the waspish roar of engines in the distance.

  “Oh shit,” Shirley said. She was the first of the two to look out and she strained her head to the left, trying to get the best possible view. Despite the trepidation in her voice, she burst into a fit of laughter, dropping onto the couch next to Blaze’s discarded bottle of Jack Daniels. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

  Kasey nodded as she took in the view. But she sure as hell wasn’t laughing.

  A fleet of bikers was catching up on Jaws. They were mostly clad in faded torn denims, smothered in brightly colored patches on their arms and over their hearts. There were about fifty in total, maybe more. They came in fast, riding Harleys and with long dirty hair flapping in the breeze. With the horizon ablaze in the background, Kasey had the feeling she was staring at an army of ghost riders riding straight through the gates of Hell.

  “Arm yourselves!” Blaze commanded.

  The suits rallied fast, rounding up their people and getting organized for battle. Urgency swept through Jaws like a tidal wave. Somebody yelled to the crowd, reminding the Secret Service agents to make sure that all pistols and semi-automatics were fully loaded.

  Rage stayed at the window, staring outside with a thoughtful look on his face.

  Mickey the driver leaned his head into the aisle.

  “President Rage,” he said in a slightly panicked tone. “If I’ve got this dashboard figured out like I think I have then grenades are all set to go. Port side on your mark. I drop a few turtle shells and this fight will be over before it begins.”

  Rage shook his head.

  “No.”

  Blaze hurried to his boss’s side. “Sir? Would you rather use the side guns?”

  Rage wagged a finger in the air – the parent educating the child. He turned around to face his Chief-of-Security and the huddle of Secret Service agents gathered around the driver’s cabin.

  Kasey and Shirley were also watching up the back.

  “Opportunity presents itself in many forms,” he said. “Often it comes in the form of a threat. Those people out there, they respect confidence and I respect that. More importantly, I can use it.”

  Before Blaze could respond, Rage turned to the driver’s cabin.

  “Mickey,” he said. “Stop the bus and don’t do anything else until I say so. Understand.”

  There was a moment’s pause.

  “Sir?” Mickey said.

  “I said stop the bus.”

  There was a faint shriek from the brakes as Jaws slowed down. Meanwhile the motorized hum of the biker clan got louder.

  The troubled expression on Blaze’s face was clear for all to see, even from where Kasey and Shirley were positioned up the back. Kasey for one was enjoying the big bastard’s discomfort.

  “Sir, I don’t like this.”

  The President gestured to the small army of black suits crammed onto the lower deck. They formed a neat line down the aisle.

  “I thank you for your service,” Rage said. “All of you. But this is what’s going to happen – I’m going out there to speak to those men. Alone. Now if anything goes wrong, by all means lay waste to them and do so by any means you see fit. But in the meantime, hold
tight. Just trust me on this one. Okay? Mickey, bring her to stop and keep your ears peeled.”

  “Yes sir.’

  Jaws rolled to a stop in the middle of the road.

  Shirley pulled the nearest window open, just a few inches. “I don’t want to miss this,” she whispered, throwing Kasey a wink.

  The collective growl of the bikers fizzled to a quiet purr. Now that the MBT had stopped the riders took up their positions with some of the bikers pulling up at the front, acting as a single-line roadblock and preventing Jaws from going any further. Others parked at the side of the MBT, others at the back.

  Jaws was surrounded. The bikers had executed the maneuver swiftly and with clinical perfection.

  They remained perched on their Harleys, waiting. All the faces outside were blank and patient.

  “Open her up Mickey,” Rage said.

  Kasey heard the folding doors hiss open.

  The President exchanged a final, curt nod with his troopers. Then, without a word, he stepped outside to face the biker army.

  Kasey and Shirley turned their attention back to the window.

  Rage, completely cut off from his people, was walking towards the small army that had pulled them off the road.

  “He’s got balls,” Shirley said. “I’ll give him that much.”

  One of the bikers, an older man in his sixties with mean eyes, cropped gray hair and matching stubble, stepped off his bike – a slick black and silver Harley with gleaming ape hanger handlebars. Kasey figured this guy was the leader. He had a seen it all, done it all, don’t-fuck-with-me face. A burning Stars and Stripes patch stood out on both elbows of his denim jacket. What impressed Kasey most of all however, was his neck tattoo – a giant skull wearing a medieval style battle helmet.

  “I’ll be damned,” the biker leader said, coming forward to meet Rage halfway. He extended his hand and Rage took it. “The President of the United States. And you’re all alone. Well that is a surprise.”

  Shirley and Kasey moved their ears closer to the window. Apart from the two men talking outside it was deathly silent everywhere else, including inside Jaws.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Rage said. He spoke in a clear, calm voice.

  “I’m Eddie Knox,” the old biker said in deep raspy tone. “And these folks right here are my brothers – The Grim Lords. Say I hope you don’t mind us riding alongside you chief. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted say, well, that’s a hell of a good-looking machine you got there. Just the thing for a night like this – for the great reckoning. Huh?”

  “It’s a fine machine alright,” Rage said. “Just like your bikes are all fine machines.”

  “You like our bikes?” Eddie said, pulling out a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket. His tone was overly cheerful. Overly friendly.

  “Very much,” Rage said.

  Eddie smiled, showing off a set of yellow protruding teeth. He lit up and took a heavy drag of his cigarette, blowing a trail of smoke in the President’s direction.

  “Motherfucker,” Blaze growled from behind the door of Jaws. His pistol was loaded and ready. The Secret Service agents were all crowding the aisle at his back, standing silent. Waiting for the order.

  “I tell you what,” Eddie said, glancing over Rage’s shoulder at Jaws for a second. “Seeing as how you’re the President and all, how about I give you one of these bikes? You know, as a gift from the Grim Lords to you Mr. Rage. A token of our support. Any bike you choose, any one at all. I mean that. You can even have mine if you want it. Hell she’s sick of carrying my fat old ass anyway.”

  “That’s very generous of you,” Rage said. “But I’m sure you gentlemen will be needing every…”

  “Not at all,” Eddie said, taking a step forward. “I insist. I want you to pick a bike.”

  He pointed at Jaws and grinned.

  “And in the spirit of fair trade oh great chief, the Grim Lords are going to take possession of that big red beauty over there. Oh yes sir. Aren’t we boys?”

  The Grim Lords reached into their hard cases and pulled out a small arsenal of pistols, shotguns and semi-automatics. They pointed everything at Rage.

  Blaze’s nostrils flared wide. He looked like a human bomb waiting to go off. His hand was up, waiting to signal the troops at Rage’s command. Kasey wondered if Blaze’s twisted heart could take much more.

  “Fair trade,” Eddie said. “One Harley for the red beast. If you think you’re getting a raw deal I’m sure we can find you a woman or something. There’s plenty running around tonight. Easy pickings. What do you like? Blonde? Brunette? Or is it true what they say about you sir? Do you prefer your women with a dick? Because that can be arranged too.”

  Kasey winced. Outside, the silence was unbearable.

  “I must say no,” Rage said. His voice was surprisingly calm. “Thank you but no. It’s impossible.”

  A black curtain descended over the biker leader’s eyes. “Nothing’s impossible,” he snarled.

  “It is,” Rage said. “You getting your hands on this vehicle. That’s impossible.”

  The President lifted a hand in the air.

  “Mickey.”

  Kasey heard a sharp click that coincided with a faint rumbling sensation in the bowels of Jaws. Like the beast was waking up underneath her. Then she heard the chilling whirr of the gun barrels, which were on the Grim Lords in a flash. The left gun pointed at Eddie and his men while the right barrel propelled itself forward several feet, taking aim at the platoon of Lords acting as a roadblock out front.

  Mickey laughed behind the wheel. “Dumb fuckers.”

  There was a sudden clatter above Kasey’s head. She heard a barrage of footsteps thundering over the roof. It was only then that she realized Blaze and the SS were no longer standing in the lower deck aisle. Kasey had been so fixated on the Rage and Eddie standoff outside to notice that Rage’s soldiers had crept to the roof in silence. Kasey pictured the scene up there, Blaze and his soldiers perched at the edge of the roof, their collective firepower trained on the Grim Lords.

  “Oh this is going to get ugly,” Shirley whispered.

  Kasey pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

  Rage walked past Eddie, towards the rest of the bikers.

  “Everyone dies Eddie,” Rage said. “That’s probably what you’re thinking now isn’t it? Time for the big shootout between yours and mine. Go out fighting. Go out on your shield with the boys in a blaze of glory. And yet you know now, perhaps for the first time in your life as a street soldier, that you’re beaten. Still, you’re thinking about fighting anyway. Aren’t you? It’s okay, you can say it. I admire that kind of fight in a man.”

  Rage turned around, extending his hands towards Jaws.

  “But the thing is Eddie,” he said, “everyone doesn’t die. Just yours. You don’t understand the firepower that’s pointing at you right now. If you did, if you’d seen this beast called Jaws at work, then you’d tell your boys to lower their weapons. Because if they don’t, I swear to God they’ll be dead within twenty seconds. All of them, including you.”

  Eddie’s long, dirty fingernails scratched at the stubble on his face. He tossed a worried glance back at his comrades.

  “Be smart Eddie,” Rage said. “Play the game.”

  Slowly, the biker leader raised a hand in the air, signaling his men to lower their weapons. They did it quickly.

  Eddie laughed and Kasey heard the shaking in his voice. “You’re everything they said you were Mr. President sir,” he said. “And a whole lot more besides. It took balls to come out here like you did. Alone.”

  Rage nodded, a half-smile creeping onto his face.

  “Thank you Eddie,” he said. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  Rage walked over to the Grim Lords, hands clasped behind his back. Kasey was reminded of a painting she’d once seen of Napoleon inspecting his troops before battle.

  “I see something beautiful here before me,” Rage said, looking each and every biker in the eye as he walked down the line. “Despite the ugliness of a single night I see something beautiful. Something alive and strong. What do I see?”

  The President smiled.

  “Soldiers. I see the makings of a great army for the new America that will rise from the ashes of tonight. With victory in the election tonight Eddie, I’ll be the official leader of the new America. And with Washington in ruins and Congress, I can pick and choose my people at will. I can rebuild to my liking.”