Nolan's Ark Read online

  “And?” Eagle Boy said.

  “My parents both lived long and happy lives,” Nolan said, sitting forward in the driver’s seat. “My sister’s still alive somewhere, last I heard. She’s got two kids.”

  “That’s some fucked up shit man,” Axel said, sounding genuinely outraged. “How in the hell did they get away with that?”

  Nolan smiled at the boy. “You’d be surprised at what rich and powerful people can get away with Axel,” he said. “I sure as hell was. They also said they’d bury the story after a few weeks. That eventually no one would care and that I could even avoid prison and get on with my life. All if I took the rap. Said nothing to no one. So that’s it – I became the villain and everyone else thought I was responsible for killing my girlfriend and my unborn daughter.”

  “Jesus,” Viking Chick said, both hands on the bump. “I’m so sorry Nolan.”

  “The newspapers crucified me,” Nolan recalled. “At least for a while. And Vicki’s family disowned me. I disappeared, shacked up in a friend’s apartment in New York. The goons were right about one thing though – the stories did disappear. After a couple of weeks there wasn’t a word written about that car crash. Not a single word. That wasn’t a surprise I guess. Campbell didn’t want anyone asking too many questions. As for me, I don’t remember how I got through those first few weeks after getting home. The worst thing was being banned from Vicki’s funeral – that hurt. And there was a service for my daughter too that I couldn’t get near. They called her Emily. They’re buried beside each other in New York.”

  It was Axel who broke the stunned silence. “How the hell does a person cope after that?”

  Nolan shook his head. “I don’t know, I just dropped out. Didn’t train, didn’t do anything except sleep. I moved from New York to LA not long afterwards. Threw everything into fighting. I trained all day and all night like I was possessed – fighting was the only thing that mattered because it controlled the anger. When I wasn’t fighting I was mad. So I fought a lot. When I eventually became champ the crash story resurfaced again but by then the Internet was in full swing and there were alternate theories about what happened that day. A lot of people guessed rightly that Campbell was off his head on drugs and that he was the one to blame. He was dead by then and his womanizing and cocaine habit had leaked out.”

  “He died?” Axel said. “You never saw him again?”

  “He never spoke publicly about the crash,” Nolan said. “Not one word. In the end, he died in bed surrounded by his family. Beloved by all. In the meantime I became the best fighter in the world. As well as unarmed combat I trained extensively with firearms and in swordsmanship – it was my therapy I guess. I turned myself into the perfect killer and it was never enough. Everyone I ever hit in the cage I saw Campbell. Even on Goliath, every zombie I ever killed, it’s him. But in reality, the man got away with it.”

  “You never got married?” Viking Chick asked.

  “I lived alone after Vicki,” he said. “That’s why I kept winning fights. No distractions.”

  “A life with no love,” Viking Chick said. “That’s sad.”

  Nolan smiled. “Well not exactly,” he said. “About eleven years ago, long before Hollywood came knocking at my door, I lived next door to this woman called Jane Corbett in LA. She was a good woman. Well Jane’s Rottweiler had just had a litter of six puppies and the ones she hadn’t sold yet were in the yard one day, fenced off within this little wire enclosure. One of the pups, he was about three and a half months old at the time, managed to escape and being the inquisitive little guy he was, he found his way through a gap in the fence. That brought him into my backyard. He found me sitting on the step and the rest is history…”

  Nolan glanced at Axel and the Retaliators.

  “That enough?” he said.

  Viking Chick nodded.

  Nolan scooped up the samurai helmet off the floor. He put it on his head and then refastened the bandana over his nose and mouth. It was still damp with sweat.

  When he was ready, Nolan fired up the turbine engine and pulled Goliath back towards the center of the road.

  Chapter 12

  Kasey and Shirley Fontaine were glued to the window as Jaws made its way along Hollywood Boulevard.

  Outside a growing crowd of people accompanied the slow-moving MBT on its westward crawl. These ‘supporters’ were followed on the road by a procession of smaller vehicles – cars and vans mostly, which trailed behind Jaws like a disjointed tail stretching back almost half a mile. Some of the bystanders on foot waved towards the roof of Jaws as they walked, others whooped and cheered. But most kept their heads down, plodding along like death row prisoners closing in on a date with Old Sparky the electric chair.

  Hollywood Boulevard had come out of the attack relatively unscathed. The damage Kasey saw out there – broken windows, ransacked stores and burned out cars for the most part – had little to do with fighter jets and everything to do with the local neighborhood scumbags having fun.

  Shirley tapped Kasey on the arm. She pointed outside at the old Fonda Theater – an ugly, rectangular building with a list of upcoming attractions listed out front. Rock bands mostly.

  “I sang in there once,” she said. “With Lisa. We had a band called…wait for it…”

  “The Fontaines?” Kasey said.

  “Good guess.”

  “Yeah.”

  The Grim Lords had proven themselves to be exceptional shepherds. They’d rounded up more people than Kasey would have believed possible in the ghost town that Hollywood had almost become. The bikers had flushed all these poor bastards out of every hiding place and dragged them to the Walk of Fame to vote in the world’s dumbest and worst timed election.

  Now they surrounded Jaws like the MBT was giant, four-wheeled god. And Kasey was still squirming at the fact she was inside looking out on these poor souls. God, they must hate her.

  A group of young women of about college age ran along the left side of Jaws. They bounced on their toes like wild-eyed cheerleaders, hands high above their heads.

  “VOTE RAGE!”

  “RAGE FOR PRESIDENT!”

  Shirley nodded at the long convoy of cars and vans that followed the marchers like a funeral procession.

  “Poor bastards,” she said. “They thought they were the lucky ones. They had cars with wheels still attached and that was their ticket out. I guess they bumped into the Grim Lords at the last minute. Now they’re voters and I bet you they don’t get to leave with their cars either.”

  Kasey felt her heart sink.

  “He’s going to win isn’t he?”

  “He’s already won,” Shirley said. “Unless Jezebeth Black turns up with Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad and The Beatles, she doesn’t stand a chance of winning. The Grim Lords have brought a lot of sheep out tonight and all the sheep are voting Rage. It’s either that or get slaughtered. Jezebeth Black doesn’t have the numbers to win.”

  “She’s probably dead already,” Kasey said.

  “Maybe.”

  “FONTAINE!” a man’s voice yelled from upstairs. It was one of the Secret Service agents and it sounded to Kasey like overenthusiastic Pete from earlier, who had become the chief rouser, patrolling the lower and upper decks for lazy celebrities who weren’t pulling their weight. “Get your skinny ass up here on the roof with all the rest of the stars! Everyone’s up here working and you’re down there doing jack shit. Get moving!”

  Shirley winced.

  “Coming!”

  “And bring the girl with you,” Pete added. “It’s a nice touch. Makes it look more family friendly up there.”

  Shirley and Kasey exchanged bewildered glances. But there was nothing else to do except get up there and show face with Team Rage. They climbed the stairs together and landed on the upper deck apartment. In the center of the aisle, a wooden ladder stretched up to the sunroof.

  “After you,” Shirley said.

  Kasey sighed and put her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Through the gap in the ceiling she saw a cloudy, starless sky waiting for her. She could hear them up there, clapping and singing and acting like everything was all right in the world. Of course they were acting – that’s what actors did and Rage must have known they had the chops to pull it off.

  “Hallelujah!” somebody roared up there. “Who y’all voting for tonight?”

  “RAGE.”

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “RAGE!”

  “Yeeehaaa!”

  Kasey climbed the ladder, making her way slowly onto the roof.

  A fierce gust of wind welcomed her outside. Hot, clammy wind. Kasey straightened up and wiped a thin layer of dust off her hands. Rancid flavors in the air slipped down her throat, almost making her gag.

  Hollywood Boulevard smelled like a chemical factory on fire.

  Shirley came up next. Both woman stood frozen for a second, adjusting to the surroundings as Jaws – the RageMobile as some were already renaming it – crawled along Hollywood Boulevard at twenty miles per hour.

  The roof of Jaws was like a TMZ journalist’s wet dream. There were movie stars everywhere, A-listers, B-listers, as well as singers, models and other familiar faces from the entertainment industry. Kasey thought she recognized a famous game show host standing beside Rage – one of those older guys with a sharp suit and perma-grin. Who Wants to Be a Trillionaire or some garbage like that.

  They were all putting on their happy faces.

  Shirley Fontaine walked over to the edge of the roof. She waved at the reluctant voters on the street.

  “VOTE RAGE!”

  Kasey went over there, giving the older woman a puzzled look. “What the hell are you doing Shirley?”

  “Wave darling,” Shirley said, nudging Kasey
on the arm with her elbow. “Just smile and do what they expect you to do.”

  “No,” Kasey said. “I shouldn’t even be here. I was kidnapped.”

  Shirley nudged her again, a little harder this time. “That sack of shit pedophile is watching you,” she said. “And if you don’t make his boss look good he’ll hurt you darling. I know the type. They want a happy kid out here tonight, be a happy kid. Do what it takes to stay alive, remember? Live now, run later. You might even get a shot to run tonight before he calls you to him. In the meantime, survive moment by moment. Would you rather be down there on the street with them?”

  “Yes!”

  “No you wouldn’t. You’re just a kid Kasey, you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

  “Oh man,” Kasey said, watching the Grim Lords roughing up the voters on the street. They were laying into the poor bastards, encouraging those standing nearby to be the most enthusiastic cheerleaders they could be. Others in the crowd, their faces as white as sheets, tried to ignore the violence. They kept moving towards the Walk of Fame, shuffling along with their heads down.

  “I can’t be here,” Kasey said.

  Shirley looked at the girl. “You ain’t waving sweetheart.”

  Kasey put a hand over her mouth and backed off from the edge. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

  Shirley matched her retreat, putting a hand on Kasey’s shoulder to steady the girl. Kasey locked her arm around Shirley’s waist, like it was the only thing between her and her worst nightmare.

  They both grinned and waved to the crowd.

  “Vote Rage,” Kasey said.

  Rage and Blaze walked from one end of the roof to the other, basking in the glow of certain victory. With tight-lipped smiles, they acknowledged those on the ground with the occasional wave of the hand.

  Not long afterwards Jaws came to a stop. So did the fleet of motorcycles and all the other vehicles. They’d reached the voting point in the heart of the Walk of Fame.

  The Grim Lords zipped back and forth along the road, stirring up the massive swarm of bodies that surrounded the MBT. The crowd responded with a series of slow-building chants that gradually picked up steam.

  “AMERICA! AMERICA! AMERICA!”

  “VOTE RAGE!”

  Rage stepped forward, megaphone in hand. The celebrities on the roof parted reverentially, like Moses was present up there with them. This was their time to earn that spot on Jaws and to make sure it stayed theirs for the foreseeable future.

  “My fellow Americans,” Rage said. “Let us be honest, first and foremost. They hurt us tonight. The bastards hurt us good. They took something precious from all of us but I can assure you ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of any losses you’ve experienced, that our enemies will be eating radioactive dust for decades to come. And if they ever get back on their feet, which is a big if, they’ll come begging America for forgiveness.”

  “THREE CHEERS FOR PRESIDENT RAGE!” Eddie Knox hollered. He was perched on his classic Harley with his hands resting on the ape hanger handlebar, watching from afar as his overzealous brothers worked the crowd up to an acceptable level of Ragemania.

  “HIP HIP!”

  “Hooray.”

  “HIP HIP!”

  “Hooray.”

  “HIP HIP!”

  “Hooray.”

  Rage tapped his heart in appreciation.

  “We called an election tonight,” he said, signaling for silence. “I know the timing is confusing but it’s important that we did what we did regardless of whatever insults and accusations have come our way this evening. If we don’t elect a leader for tomorrow’s America we risk all out anarchy and self-annihilation. If you elect me as President, I pledge to travel the length and breadth of our great nation, personally overseeing the recovery of our wounded communities. And I’ll be accompanied on my travels by an emergency police force that will wipe out any anarchy in its infancy. I promise you – no fear. You will walk the streets of New America and feel safe.”

  “YEAAAHH!” the Grim Lords howled.

  The crowd joined in.

  “My fellow Americans,” he said as the noise faded. “I’m very confused. It appears that there’s no sign of my opponent in this election, Miss Jezebeth Black.”

  “BOO!” some of the bikers yelled.

  “Now there’s two possibilities here,” Rage said. “Either Jezebeth has given up on you all or she’s still trying to find someone who’ll vote for her.”

  Weak laughter trickled out of the crowd.

  “Maybe she got lost!” Eddie Knox shouted from across the street. “Ha-ha-haaaa!”

  Kasey’s urge to throw up hadn’t gone away. But she was distracted when she heard a strange noise in the distance.

  She shifted left, tuning Rage’s speech out and staring down the long and dark road. There it was – a pair of bright white headlights in the distance. Like a dragon’s eyes, working their way closer.

  “Here she comes now!” a voice in the crowd called out. “Jezebeth Black’s coming! She made it after all.”

  A horn blared in the distance. If it was indeed a dragon showing up on Hollywood Boulevard it was an angry one, roaring over and over again. Screaming broke out from the edge of the massive crowd. There were people back there running, scattering in all directions and defying the threat of the Grim Lords.

  “What’s going on?” Shirley asked.

  Kasey didn’t answer. Instead she pushed her way through the crowd, hurrying over to the back end of Jaws. Shirley ran alongside her. When they reached the edge they stood there, both of them gazing out wide-eyed towards the disturbance further back on Hollywood Boulevard.

  “What is that?” Shirley said.

  It was chaos. The people on the street ran for their lives as if this incoming monster was prodding them with an electric rod. To hell with the Grim Lords. Something much bigger and scarier had just turned up.

  “Get out of my way!”

  It was a flustered-sounding Rage. He pushed his way through the knot of celebrity cheerleaders, working his way towards the edge of the roof. There was a look of righteous indignation on his face.

  Blaze followed, his pistol drawn and ready.

  “Jezebeth?” Rage said, narrowing his eyes upon seeing the bright headlights up ahead. “Well I never. She made it. Perhaps I underestimated her determination to sit in the White House.”

  “No sir,” Blaze said, looking as if he’d been slapped in the face. “That’s not Jezebeth Black coming our way.”

  “What are you talking about Blaze?”

  Blaze turned slowly to his boss, his eyes dark and troubled.

  “When we left Paramount,” Blaze said. “Jezebeth Black was in Kong. Remember sir? Kong was blue. That is one of the MBTs but it’s not Kong. That’s the silver one. That’s Goliath.”

  Rage gasped. The words, when they came, tripped out of his mouth with uncertainty. “Goliath?” he said. “But…”

  “Yes sir?”

  “If that’s Goliath,” Rage said, “who the hell’s driving it?”

  Chapter 13

  Goliath plowed through the terrified crowd.

  Nolan’s sledgehammer fist pummeled the horn and the MBT belched out its crude warning. People, cars and motorcycles – they were all in his way. They had seconds to get the hell off the road or get turned into sludge.

  “Move!” Nolan yelled. His voice was a muffled roar behind the bandana. In between honking the horn he shook a fist at the slow movers acting like deer in the headlights. They’d smiled when they first saw him, just like with Jezebeth’s followers. Then they realized that Goliath meant business and their joyful expressions had shriveled to ones of terror.

  Nolan followed the proceedings outside with interest. Those who fled ran towards the side streets in a bid to escape and were immediately pursued by small platoons of Hell’s Angels wannabes on Harleys, trying to steer the runners back towards Hollywood Boulevard.

  All of these things, no matter how interesting, were blurry extras at the far edges of Nolan’s vision. Secondary snippets of information. His sole focus was on getting through to Jaws. Rage was over there somewhere. He was one of those human-shaped specks on the roof gazing over at Goliath from afar.