Mega Post-Apocalyptic Double Bill Read online

  Becky tapped Eda on the shoulder. “You mean those archers?” she said.

  She pointed towards a huddle of three warriors standing about thirty feet away from the crater, crouching and firing arrows into the crowd of Children. They were advancing towards Lex and the others, moving away from the trees.

  “They spilled out after the first shot,” Becky said. “I think the coast is clear.”

  “But there might be more,” Eda said, looking warily at the foreboding wall of firs.

  “We’re going to have to take that chance,” Becky said. “Come to think of it, how do we know these girls aren’t on our side? They just saved our lives didn’t they?”

  “Trust me,” Eda said, shaking her head. “They’re not on our side.”

  Becky tilted her head.

  “You know them?” she asked.

  Eda nodded. “This isn’t the right time to talk about it.”

  Eda and Becky tackled the steep incline and crossed the winding road. They jumped the metal barrier and pushed through the fir trees, coming out by the genteel ghost houses on Riverside Drive. From there, they pumped their arms and legs, running eagerly to the river like two aquatic creatures floundering on dry land.

  They trampled through the mini-forest at the edge of the riverbank.

  “Shit!” Becky yelled, looking towards the water.

  The canoes were drifting away. They were moving in an easterly direction at a very slow pace with the nearest one about ten to fifteen feet from the bank. Three paddles floated gently on the calm surface of the Passaic.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Becky said, punching at the air. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming after them yet.

  “It was the warriors, “ Eda said. “They must have ambushed the Children’s camp after we were gone. I guess they traveled down on the last boatload, then probably killed whoever brought them here and didn’t secure the boats.”

  Somebody screamed in the background.

  “Jesus,” Becky said. “We need to get out of here.”

  She looked at Eda with a hopeful expression.

  “Can you swim?”

  Eda bit her lip. “I swam once when I was young,” she said, “In a river much smaller than this. Actually I wouldn’t really call it swimming.”

  Becky raised an eyebrow. “What would you call it?”

  “Drowning.”

  Becky managed a weak laugh. She pointed to the nearest canoe.

  “We just need to reach that one okay?” she said. “You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that a lot of people are going to be coming after us Eda. If we can’t get to one of those canoes, we’re screwed.”

  “Yeah,” Eda said in a flat voice. “I know.”

  A pause.

  “You can do this,” Becky said.

  Eda stared at the dirty brown water.

  “Sure.”

  With that said, Becky leaned forward over the riverbank. She took several deep breaths and then dove headfirst into the Passaic River. There was a light splashing noise – it sounded like a bird dive-bombing the water. A few seconds passed. Eda began to panic, to suspect that something had grabbed Becky under there and pulled her down into the dark depths.

  A head popped up out of the water. Becky twisted into position, then her arms cut through the surface as she swam towards the nearest canoe.

  She stopped halfway and turned back towards land.

  “C’mon!” she called out to Eda. “It’s alright.”

  Eda glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. Warriors, Children – they would show up sooner or later on the riverbank. Nothing yet. Then she turned back to the water, heart racing, and with sheer force of will, blocked out all memories of her near drowning incident as a child. The panic. Being pulled down into the darkness. The certainty of death, it never happened.

  Her mind locked onto the position of the boat on the water. Then she took a deep breath, followed by another. Slowly, she leaned forward over the grassy bank and stared at the unwelcoming river.

  “I can swim.”

  Eda closed her eyes. Then she dove into the water and in contrast to Becky’s landing, it sounded like another Uncle Sam bomb crashing into the Passaic.

  A rush of cold filled Eda’s body. She found herself in an alien world with very little visibility. Her mind barked out a series of hundred miles per hour commands – don’t panic, move your arms, kick! At the same time, a small, frightened voice reminded Eda that she couldn’t swim. And the voice wouldn’t go away. What was she doing in a river for God’s sake? Nothing – neither reassurance nor panic could prevent her body from sinking now.

  Eda moved her arms and legs. She did what she thought was right – plowed and kicked with her limbs and yet it only made things worse.

  A deep churning noise filled her head. The river was inside, choking her.

  Panic slipped away after a moment or two. If this was drowning then it wasn’t as bad as Eda had always imagined it to be. Not if she stopped fighting and just let go. Surrender. It wasn’t cold, in fact it was warm and comforting somehow. Everything would be over, including her worries. No more warriors. No more Uncle Sam.

  Let go. Let the water fill your lungs then.

  And yet something wouldn’t let go. Eda found herself clawing relentlessly through the water, reaching for the surface again. Reaching for daylight. Her fingers grasped at the cold liquid like it was a piece of rope she could use to pull herself back up.

  There was a sudden jarring sensation. Space and time ceased to exist and for a few moments, Eda was outside of herself. Watching herself drown. Then something hard bumped into her and brought her back. Now it felt like she was floating instead of sinking.

  And then she broke through the surface, gasping for air. It was like waking up from the worst nightmare she’d ever had. The murky light of the sky was right there over Eda’s head again, having replaced the dark, grotesque roof of the river.

  She was in the middle of the Passaic River and there was a canoe floating immediately to her right. Becky was in the water and she was pulling Eda towards the boat. She had one arm wrapped around Eda’s waist and the other was dragging through the surface, bringing them closer to the boat.

  “Climb up,” Becky said, when they reached the side of the canoe. She was gasping for breath as she spoke. “Grip the edge and push yourself over.”

  Eda reached up but in her panic, she pushed the boat instead of grabbing a hold of it. The boat bobbed away from the two women, daring them to try again.

  Becky cursed, then pulled them closer. Eda coughed relentlessly.

  “Reach up and grab the edge,” Becky said. Then a new panic filled her voice. “Jesus Christ. Eda…those women, they’re at the edge of the river. They’re coming after us. C’mon, please. I need you to grab the edge of the boat Eda. Holy shit!”

  Eda heard a splashing noise in the distance. When she turned her head the other way she caught a brief glimpse of the warriors swimming towards the other boats, which were about fifty feet away from where Eda and Becky were.

  Eda reached for the canoe again.

  The boat swayed towards her too fast and it knocked her off balance. With hope fading, she tried for a third time and with Becky’s help, Eda hurled herself into the canoe with such force that she landed on the wooden base with a yelp.

  Becky climbed into the boat effortlessly and grabbed the paddle. There was only one in the canoe.

  “Oh shit,” Becky said, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were alight with terror. “What did you do to those women Eda? What the hell did you do?”

  Eda sat upright, coughing ferociously.

  “Long story,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  The warriors were swimming towards the other canoes – an abandoned fleet of four that were scattered further up the river. Eda counted around nine or ten warriors in total, including Lex. The chief warrior cut through the surface of th
e Passaic like her life depended on it.

  “Can you row this thing?” Eda said, turning to Becky.

  Becky nodded, keeping her eyes on the river.

  “Fortunately that’s one thing I can do,” she said. “Don’t worry about it – I’ll get us out of here.”

  Becky paddled hard, plowing the wooden stick through the water in long, deep strokes. The canoe took off at an impressive speed. Eda felt a wave of fresh hope rising up inside, but she didn’t allow herself to get carried away.

  “I swear to God Mike,” Becky said. “I’m going to Boston. I’m going there for both of us and I’ll find Pam, dead or alive.”

  As Becky talked to herself, Eda could smell the river all over their clothes. It smelled like shit and dirt and puke all wrapped into one foul super-odor. It was in her throat too; she could taste the Passaic like she was still in it.

  “I hate this swamp,” she said.

  She coughed again, keeping an eye on things at their back. Further downriver, the warrior pack had already climbed into one of the vacant canoes, leaving the other three to drift. They’d overloaded the boat, which with any luck would slow them down.

  Eda was about to inform Becky of this when some of the Children appeared at the riverbank. There were about thirty at least. Most of them had pulled their gray robes off and Eda could see their camouflage colors once again, blending in perfectly with the earthy shades of the Meadows.

  Eda couldn’t see Baldilocks. She imagined him back at the crater, still hopping like a man trapped on hot coals, yelling orders, demanding that Uncle Sam’s Sinners be captured and brought back to face justice.

  Seconds later, one by one, the cult members dove into the river. They made it look graceful and effortless, like they were returning to their natural habitat.

  When they surfaced in the water, the Children began to swim towards the remaining canoes.

  9

  Becky was a strong rower. As well as her natural skills with a paddle, the adrenaline rush fueled body and mind, giving her that extra surge of emergency power to push the canoe through the water with superhuman strength. This, along with the head start they had over their pursuers, both the warriors and Children, gave Eda and Becky a fighting chance.

  Eda sat next to Becky while land flashed by on either side. While Becky kept her eyes out front, Eda concentrated on the progress of their pursuers. The warriors’ canoe was an angry dot on the horizon. Their overcrowded boat, powered by a single paddle was betraying their ambition. As for the Children, Eda couldn’t see them but she knew they’d also have overloaded the three canoes and would have a hard time of building speed. With any luck, both parties would impede the other’s progress, buying the two Sinners time to escape.

  From a distance, Eda could see two of the archers up on their feet, pointing their bows to the sky, shooting arrows at something behind them. Eda heard a cacophony of angry shouts, battle cries in the distance.

  That’s it, she thought. Kill each other.

  She turned back to the front, at least a little relieved.

  “Where are we going anyway?” she asked.

  Becky shrugged.

  “Back to camp?”

  “Is that a question?” Eda said, looking at the other woman.

  “Guess not,” Becky said. She was breathing in a slow, deliberate manner. It looked like she was fully in control of herself and Eda was impressed by her composure. She wondered briefly about Becky’s past but this wasn’t the time for a get to know one another discussion. There would be time for that later.

  “If we can get back to the Children’s camp,” Becky said, “I might be able to find my way back to the Two Bridges Road.”

  “The Two what?” Eda said.

  “It’s a road north of the Children’s camp,” Becky said, with a quick shake of her head. “That’s all I know. It’s a long shot but if we can find that road we’re back in business. And by back in business I mean we’re out of the Meadows and home free. Some of us anyway…”

  Becky’s eyes glistened. Survival instinct had pushed grief aside, at least for now.

  “You know where we get off here?” Eda asked.

  Becky pursed her lips and took a long and intense look at their surroundings. “For the Children’s camp?”

  “Yeah,” Eda said. “This damn swamp – it all looks the same to me.”

  “I think so,” Becky said. “It’s a little cove-shaped bay on the river, right? There’s a bunch of trees overhanging the water and there’s one of them in particular that looks like it’s almost horizontal. You could lie on your back and sunbathe on that mother if you wanted to.”

  “I remember it,” Eda said. The horizontal tree that Becky was talking about was pretty distinctive. Its gnarled, purplish-blue trunk extended from the bank, leaning towards the water in a gravity-defying manner. When she’d first seen it, Eda had imagined lying on that trunk and letting her arms slide down to caress the cool water.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Becky said. “We can’t be too far away. We’re getting out of here, alright? If it’s the last thing I do I’m going to find that Two Bridges Road, walk the rest of the way to Boston and I’m going to find Pam.”

  Becky’s entire body was trembling.

  “Pam is Mike’s twin sister?” Eda said. “Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What will you say to her?” Eda said. “If she’s…alive.”

  “I’ll tell her that Mike never forgot about her,” Becky said. “Because he never did. He never stopped loving or missing his sister. Twins, damn it. I’ll tell her that he was on his way back to Boston to find her. And I’ll tell her why it took us so long, I’ll tell her about little…”

  Becky stopped. She made a loud, hacking noise that sounded like she was clearing something stuck in her throat.

  “About little what?” Eda asked.

  Becky’s face was a block of stone.

  “Just keep your eyes peeled Eda,” she said. “Okay? We can’t afford to miss that little harbor.”

  They sat in silence. Eda was overjoyed to see no sign of either the warriors or the Children behind them. There was only an empty view stretching out at their backs, and it was hard to believe in that moment that Eda and Becky weren’t the only two people in the swamp. Under other circumstances, it would have been a blissful journey through a forgotten, unspoiled world.

  The Passaic River was a permanent chocolate brown color. Tall trees stooped over the edge of the riverbank, their image barely reflected in the dull surface of the water. As Eda sat in the canoe, searching for the Children’s harbor, she realized that the entirety of the Meadows consisted of mostly two colors – green and brown. It was like she was traveling through a watercolor scene painted by an artist from the nineteenth century. Eda had seen those types of paintings in the old Met museum in New York. She’d always marveled at how she could smell the damp earth just by looking at them.

  “No sign?” Becky said, glancing over he shoulder.

  “Nah,” Eda said. “They’ve put too many people in the boats. With any luck they’ve overturned. I don’t know if the warriors have ever done this kind of thing before. Not much call for canoeing skills in the middle of Manhattan.”

  “So who are these women?” Becky said. “What did you call them – warriors? What the hell are they doing here in the swamp chasing you like this?”

  “I think they want to take me back to New York,” Eda said.

  “No shit.”

  “It’s either that or they’ve come here to kill me.”

  “What did you do to them?” Becky asked. “Are you a runaway or something?”

  “No,” Eda said. “They let me go. I was free to walk and I walked. It doesn’t make any sense for them to come after me like this. Haven’t really had a chance to ask them and I don’t want to for that matter.”

  Becky took another look downriver. With the coast clear, she held her paddle arm aloft, stretching her exhausted muscles and taking deep lun
gfuls of fresh air. She wiped a pool of sweat off her forehead and closed her eyes.

  “Hell of a workout,” she said.

  “I’ll paddle for a while,” Eda said.

  Becky opened her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not as easy as it looks,” she said. “I just need a minute and…”

  But Eda reached over and snatched the paddle out of Becky’s hand before she could finish the sentence.

  “Don’t be a martyr,” she said. “I can do it.”

  Eda budged over, swapping places with Becky so that she was at the far side of the boat. She gripped the wooden handle and plunged the paddle into the water, using long, deep strokes like she’d seen Becky do. Right away she realized it was harder than it looked. Much harder. The canoe swayed to the side, no longer under human command. Eda was taking it closer to the riverbank.

  “What the…?” Eda said.

  Becky didn’t say anything. She sat poker-faced, not moving.

  Eda squeezed the handle tighter, stabbing the water angrily in a bid to correct their course.

  She stole a worried glance behind her. A barrage of voices drifted up the river like a rolling fog. Men and women’s voices – all intermingled in one dissonant roar, coming closer.

  “I fucking hate boats,” Eda said, plowing the paddle through the water. There was little grace in her stroke and the canoe continued to rebel against her touch. “I hate rivers too. And I hate swamps most of all. If I make it out of here Becky, I don’t ever want to see any more boats, rivers or swamps in all my life. I’m making that promise to myself here today. I’m a city girl damn it.”

  Becky gently lifted the paddle out of Eda’s hand. They switched places and she resumed her position as rower.

  “When you make it out of here,” she said. “Thanks for the break Eda.”

  Becky corrected the runaway canoe and a few minutes later, sat bolt upright on the bench. It was like she’d sat on something sharp.

  “I see it!” she said. She poked an elbow into Eda’s arm. Eda looked up and saw a tiny little bay tucked into the edge of the riverbank. The familiar hanging trees leaned far over the edge like old friends waiting for the two women to return.