The bug-eyed Smeeg leader pulled his souped-up scooter along side me, mouthed "Pull over, bitch," and pointed for emphasis.
I replied with a different finger before hitting the turbo boost. The Interceptor's horses cranked to near stampede, my back crushed hard against the driver's seat foam cushions, and we left the Smeegs sucking dust.
Ahead, open road all the way to Chica-Town. Walls towered on either side of the highway. Atop these stood the cluttered ruins of Old World 'Burbia.
Hell to drive through.
The highway was clear as winter night skies, thanks to Marik's Power-Plower gang sweeping most of the trash medianward. I miss those guys. Of course, I showed props to the fallen Sisters when I passed any destroyed Chica-Town Interceptors.
A short time later, the Overhot Light flashed on the dash, and I grudgingly cut the boost. In my mirrors, a dozen angry Smeeg cycles revved and roared, gunning for my go-juice and passenger.
Mara had hidden in the passenger side foot well when the Smeegs caught our trail. Since breeding stock shouldn't talk back, the Smeegs had taken Mara's tongue, so when she asked, 'Are they gonna get us, Betty?' it sounded like "Rhe-unnah-geh-uh-Behee?"
"They won't get you."
The Smeegs had made Mara's smile a nasty thing. They liked their girls to be pretty, so she still had all her auburn hair and her sparkling aqua-colored eyes. They didn't like fighters, so they'd busted Mara's teeth and yanked her fingernails.
If they caught us, Mara could expect her hamstrings cut. I knew my fate.
Smeegs sure as stink didn't like speedbunnies breaking into their HQ, snatching breeders and riding away. Especially when that speedbunny was a nineteen year old, Chica-Town girlie in a black leather Screw-You-niform like myself.
Yeah, 'Screw-You-niform'. Mara's name for our dyed dark as night rabbit skin jackets, cow skin pants and mud hole stomping boots.
As in, 'Screw you, buddy. Respect the uniform.'
Another warning chimed when my main tanks ran dry. The onboard dianalys automatically switched consumption to the twin twenty-gal aux juice boxes in the Interceptor's trunk.
My mind ran two hundred miffs in a forty miff zone. Anyplace around I could ditch these rad-heads?
Well, I thought, there's always Sideshow.
My laughed must've freaked Mara out, because she started whimpering like a terrified dog. "It's okay," I said. But was I truthful?
Sideshow.
The Smeegs would have to be crazy to follow me.
It gave me the shakey-weebles just to consider gunning their neck of the 'Burbia. What about them? They were exposed on those cycles. Spike-laden armor or no, they were easy pickings for Sideshow's menagerie.
After a couple more miles, I saw my turnoff. The Old World sign had been weather blasted blank, but a New World Wisdom had filled it in with spray paint.
An arrow pointed up the exit ramp. Above this, "Sideshow." Underneath, "Only Fools Drive Where Angels Fear to Tread."
I made as though to pass the exit, then turned the wheel at the last instant. My tires crunched grass, glass and gravel and jounced up onto the ramp.
A couple of the Smeegs went ass over handlebars copying my stunt driving. If I was lucky, their buddies would stop to guzzle go-juice or swap rides.
At ramp's end, I hung right.
Great gray monoliths leaned awkwardly against one another, ringed by overgrown near-jungles of shrubbery and budding grass, colorful wildflowers and stunted looking trees. Alleyways wound off into nightmare darkness. No cars on any of the streets, but at least the streets were drivable.
My mirror showed maybe eight unsettled Smeegs in pursuit. Stupid rad-heads.
Mara curled up tight as possible. Not yet fourteen and willowy meant she managed a fairly compact human ball.
"Hang in there, Sis," I whispered.
A Smeeg bullet punched through the back window, buzzed my left ear and exited through the windscreen.
I laid on the horn. Only the dead can pretend they don't hear a Chica-Town triple blat, and even they've been known to jump.
In moments, I saw shambling shadow shapes emerge from alleyways and buildings.
Chicas didn't stick around long enough to see what the menagerie looked like. It was enough to know they existed only twenty-five miles from our home. People who saw Sideshowers up close never went home again.
Heaved stones and cinderblock chunks rained on my Interceptor, dinging his steel body and further spider webbing the windscreen. I considered hitting the booster but decided to conserve juice. The one place I didn't want to end up dry was in Sideshow.
Instead, I drove defensively and kept the needle up around sixty-five miffs. I'd trained out to one-seventy, but that was on highways.
The Smeegs fared worse than me.
Low-tech artillery knocked cyclists off their bikes. Lumbering figures shrouded by clouds of filth stormed from the shadows and foliage, snatched victims and then withdrew.
Suddenly, a hot pink elephant filled the road ahead of me. Its armored sides heaved with heavy breaths. Its ears were studded with grommets and spikes. A pair of automatic shotguns replaced its tusks.
Two figures atop it used straps and levers to control the beast.
The shotguns roared. I was driving straight into them. Windscreen exploded around me. Molten hornets stung my arms, chest and face. The hood blasted up, blinding me.
I ran on memory. Street went straight after the elephant. A turn off'd been maybe sixty yards down.
The hot pink nightmare zipped past the passenger-side window.
If I got to the turn, I'd be home free.
Something landed onto the roof of the car. A dagger punched through the steel an inch beside my head and then twitched. No dagger at all, this was a finger.
I braked hard. My unwanted passenger flew forward, slamming the hood shut before rolling onto the concrete ahead.
Behind, the elephant turned for another potshot. I gunned forward. Well, tried to. Awful noises came from the engine. The car jolted and shuddered like a flu victim.
My unwanted passenger stood up, and I saw my first Sideshower up close and personal.
It was naked, pink fleshed, humanoid. It twitched and shivered as though alternately being shocked or frozen. Its face was a featureless mess of wrinkles and sagging skin. Limbs hung from its body like willow branches, terminating in sausage-shaped digits tipped with nasty looking claws. One limb had three 'fingers', the other only two. The missing digit was stuck in my roof, severed but still wiggling.
Just as I was about to break out into a full scream, the elephant guns coughed thunder, and a lot happened in short order.
The aux juice boxes blew open. Sparks from the now exposed wiring harness set the fuel off. The rear half of the Interceptor exploded. Heat, noise and shrapnel flooded my compartment. The car's duff lifted. The front bumper acted like a hinge, and the car flopped underside up. The Sideshower up front didn't move before my roof squashed it like a bug.
When I got my bearings, I was upside down, damn near deaf and in unbelievable agony. Being stuck front seat in an exploding car had made me extra tasty-crispy.
Still, I was alive and not on fire. The rest could be salvaged later. As I struggled to release my belt, something thumped underneath the roof.
That Sideshower was still alive?
Then, the earth trembled. The elephant was approaching. I had to--
Where was Mara?
When I turned to look for her, pain shot up my neck.
Another tremor from the approaching elephant knocked me back into reality. Mara was not here. If I was still here when that thing arrived, I'd become paste.
The belt finally released, dumping me onto the roof. I shoved open my door and squirmed out, biting back screams at every movement's brush with agony.
Mara?
I turned the wrong way and explored whole new avenues of misery. My whole body locked up. Light filled my eyes, not from an external source. No, this came from inside, straight from the heart of my own pain.
Muffled noises surrounded me. Approaching steps crunching the gravel. The elephant's earthquake steps. And Mara spitting what invectives she could.
"Leave her alone," I wailed, but I could do nothing to help myself when yellow shapes came for me.
Something heavy hit my head, extinguishing my lights.
#
A bucket of water brought me around.
I was in a concrete room large enough for me and the dozen yellow rubber suits, dark plastic screens and black rubber gloves surrounding me. Except for the water dumper, they kept assault rifles trained.
"Who the hell are you people?" I asked.
"We ask the questions." Water-Boy's voice was monotone. "Who are you?"
"Betty," I said. "From Chica-Town."
"Why were you driving through here?" Water-Boy was apparently the only one with a tongue.
"Didn't you see the Smeegs chasing me?"
"Who was with you?"
"What happened to her?" I asked.
The leader of these lemon heads tried to repeat his question, but I cut him off. "Mara is my sister. I didn't break her out of Smeeg Central so she'd get eaten by mutants, all right?"
Lemonhead-One said, "The Mutts took her to the Meat Pits."
I didn't like the sound of that. "I have to get her out."
He gestured for the others to shoulder their weapons. "No one escapes the Grinders."
"Grinders and Meat Pits." I shook my head. "Look, all I know is--"
Mistake to try standing. Pain returned in a white hot flash, reminding me that though it had been absent, it was still my master. At least my hearing was somewhat restored.
"I understand your frustration," Water-Boy said. "We have lost many to that place, but we must survive to salvage unfortunates from Mutt-Attacks."
Mutt-Attacks? Cute.
"Look," I said. "I know you won't understand. I pledged to do everything I could to get Mara home."
"Many Chica-Town specimens have said similar things. None succeeded."
Specimens? "You mean you 'salvaged' others?"
"Every Mutt-Attack, we try. Sometimes we succeed. Usually not. We have heard of your home before," he said. "Women from that place call each other 'Sister.' Sacrifice this girl to the Pit. You have more 'sisters'."
"Mara is blood. I can't leave."
"We can show you entry to the Pits but cannot go with you."
"Are there any wheels in this town?" I asked. "When I get out with Mara, I'm sure I'll need a pair."
"Such optimism," he said.
"Do you have a name?" I asked. "I can't keep thinking of you as 'Water-Boy' or 'Lemonhead-One'."
"I am Deerk," he said. "'Lemonhead-One'?"
"Maybe I'll explain when I get back. About those wheels?"
"Do you mean an automobile?"
"A car. Jeez, you talk like a computer."
"Should you succeed in your operation, we will have transport prepared for you."
"Something fast and fully juiced," I said. "I've plenty of asphalt to zoom in zero timescale."
"We have something that fits your specifications." He paused. "Do you require pain relief?"
"That," I said, "would be nice."
#
Whatever they injected me with killed all sensation of pain. "The duration is simply hours," Deerk said. The bad news was I couldn't gauge pain levels of any kind while under its effect. When it wore off, I could very well die from accrued shock downloading at once.
"Thanks," I said.
He nodded.
"'You're welcome'," I prompted.
"You are welcome?"
"Great," I said. "Now show me the way."
#
They brought me down a flight of stairs and through a fire scourged hallway of shattered steel shells. Ashes and dust rose with our footfalls.
This hallway terminated in a hole, which opened onto a man-made cavern. Not a sewer, this was much larger. Lines of steel broke the ground. Deerk handed me a flashlight and a pistol.
"Follow this passage," he said. "You'll smell the Pits before long. Beware the Fomor. It knows no loyalty."
Meat pits. Grinders. Now, 'Fomor'? "Is there anything I don't have to watch out for?"
"The third rail," Deerk said.
"And what is 'the third rail'?"
"You're standing on it."
I looked down. My boots were on one of the steel lines.
"Once," Deerk said, "it was electrified. That world is no more. Do not fear treading the third rail."
"Thanks bunches."
"You are welcome," Deerk said.
Ha-ha.
#
I have never felt so alone or small as I did in that darkness. My tiny light did little to reveal the passage. Several shapes, like tabby cats with bone white tails, skittered away from the edge of my illumination. Rats, maybe?
I considered running back, accepting Deerk's wheels and driving as fast as possible out of Sideshow. Then, I recalled my pledge to get Mara home.
Before long, I found an open grave.
Old bones lay scattered in the dusty filth, and a single mound of carefully arranged skulls. my hand shook as I panned the light around. Nothing living remained.
When I walked past the mound, I saw that those skulls were all similar in one respect: each had a hole through the brow as wide as my thumb.
I kept my limbs as close as possible. If I could have curled up into a ball and still kept moving, I probably would have tried.
The shadows around me seemed full of irradiated ogre-men and flesh hungry ghouls. Imagination, you say? Well, maybe in Chica-Town, but in the heart of Sideshow?
After I was maybe twenty yards away from the graveyard, I heard something in the darkness back there. A great hiss, as of something large exhaling. Perhaps in slumber.
Only pure willpower kept me from screaming and running away.
A half mile later, when I was beginning to calm down, I smelled offal and mineral oil.
These came from several openings along the lowest edge of the passage walls, which turned out to be ventilation for a series of steel platforms, twenty feet below. These platforms were dedicated to the slaughter, grinding and preparation of flesh. Tanning racks stood alongside whirring machines among shadows cast by smoky torches. Rat, canine, feline, human. Every conceivable source of protein was present.
I had found Deerk's 'Meat Pits.' Seen from above, those platforms did look like pits arranged inside labyrinthine passages of old machinery and plumbing. Dozens of Sideshowers worked among them.
How was I supposed to find Mara in such a place? A day spent searching probably wouldn't be enough. If I started sneaking around, I had no doubts that I would be discovered and added to the menu.
Lost as to where to begin, I squatted and watched the industrialized horror.
After almost an hour, I lucked into witnessing a prisoner delivery. Three Smeegs in chains were being led from a dead end passage.
Was Mara there, too?
There were vent holes around the entire perimeter, three looking over that dead end alone. I searched those specific ones out. Two of the holes had been filled with concrete. The last one was barred by pipes so old and rusty that they practically fell apart when I touched them. A little work cleared my way through.
The dead end passage held a whole hell of a lot of electrical lines and a trio of steel cages. Only one cage contained any living prisoners. A Smeeg with a brilliant blue Mohawk shared space with Mara. She lay at the back of the cage, and I wasn't sure if she was dead or not. The Smeeg sat beside her, stroking her skin and hair. Suddenly, she lashed out, and the Smeeg retreated.
Alive.
I could save her.
Except for that big lock on the cage and the two Sideshowers guarding the area.
I didn't trust the pistol's stopping power to get me through this. What could a bullet do that being squashed by an Interceptor couldn't?
Suddenly, an alarm sounded in tandem with an obnoxious belching sound. One of the machines blew boiling lubricant out a valve at its apex. Mutants scampered to tend the thing. The mineral based oil they pumped through these beasts seemed less effective than crude.
Might a little sabotage distract the Mutts long enough for me to free my sister?
I took a moment to study some of the nearby machines. These nasty looking things hissed and growled and chomped as they operated. Were these Deerk's 'Grinders'? Their purpose was a mystery, but some of the components were not.
I recognized them well from my studies of engine theory. Lubrication feeds. Combustion cylinders. Thermal couplers. A primitive exhaust system. Little to no protective shielding.
These devices were cobbled together by machinist madmen. A well-placed bullet could do serious damage.
I moved to another vent hole and aimed for one of the big Grinders. When I had position, I squeezed off a round. With all the noise down there, the shot went unheard.
The machine belched steam. A needle jumped from white to red. Alarms blared.
Mutts beat feet like mad, and I hurried back to the prison view. The guards hadn't moved.
I had more bullets.
Another vent. Another shot. This time scalding hot, translucent fluid sprayed a whole section of drying meat. More alarms. More frenzied activities.
One of the guards left.
A third vent. Two more shots. Electric fireworks. Alarms and rushing.
No guards left.
No time to waste, but no ladder either. I used natural handholds, slipped once and caught myself. Still had to drop the last half dozen feet.
I bent my knees but landed hard. Thanks to Deerk's med-shot, I felt no pain. Finally down, I discovered why so many power lines filled this section. A junction box for a rather large electrical array filled the wall I'd come down. Essentially, it was a bunch of fat power lines connected to a couple of rusty looking U-shaped switches. Some were thrown, most weren't.
I hurried to the cage. The lock was rusty but sound. I put a bullet into it with no effect. Used two more before it fell free.
Turned to see how much time I had.
The cage door slammed into me. The Smeeg shoved past, hotfooted for the passage and then ran right into a returning guard. Put up a hell of a scuffle.
I admit, by then, I was only paying partial attention. My focus was on reaching Mara. Pulling her to her feet. She fought me until her eyes met mine. Recognition.
I said, "Can you climb?"
"Be-ee, I wih fawah yew." Betty, she'd said, I will follow you.
I led Mara to the vent I'd come through. "Go." I pushed her up.
She moved, but with difficulty. The Interceptor's crash had been terrible for her. Hell, we were both messed up, I was only functional because of Deerk's medicine.
Different alarms wailed.
We had zero chances to escape unless I took a little bit of insurance. I hurried to the junction box and threw the rest of the switches. The air reeked of ozone and hummed with current. Elsewhere, I heard transformers blowing and the crackle of raining sparks.
Behind me, the Smeeg's cries suddenly cut off. A glance told me enough of his fate. He was only so much twitching meat stretched between Mutt claws.
The Sideshower raced forward. I jammed the pistol in my pants and leaped for the handholds. Climbed for freedom.
"Out the hole," I shouted. Mara scrambled as told; I was hot on her heels; the Mutt was on mine.
Once out, I squirmed around onto my butt. The Mutt's head filled the opening.
"Respect the uniform," I said and put my boot where its face should've been.
Skin gave like thick pudding. Squished like a cow patty. Still, my kinetic payload reach something solid because the Mutt fell back and away, hitting the ground with a sploosh.
More Mutts were en route.
Flashlight on, I led us toward Deerk's hole.
Soon enough, the Mutts filled the passage behind us. For the most part our pursuit remained quiet and relentless, but every now and again, I smelled burning, heard the sudden sounds of commotion. After a couple of these, I peeked and saw not one but two waves of mutant flesh. They were parted right down the middle, filling different halves of the tunnel, as though fearful of meeting in the middle ground. Then, I saw why. Shapes, black and crispy in the flashlight, huddled on the tunnel floor in that middle ground. Fried Mutts atop Deerk's third rail. Was it now live?
One of those switches I'd thrown must have activated it. Blind luck had kept us safe, so far. Then, I found Mara stepping a little close to it. "Stay off that rail," I said, indicating the death line with the light. Even through her terror, she heard me. Thank goodness for that.
Near the bone yard, I heard another monstrously large exhalation from the unseen, slumbering giant.
At some point, I decided I had to wake it.
Once past the skull mound, I started screaming messy murder. Mara added her own wordless huffs to mine.
Different sounds filled the dark behind us; the giant slumbered no more.
A groan became a whirr, which grew louder than a turbine engine. Something massive shifted. Hissed like hydraulics, squeaked like rusty hinges.
Maybe, I thought, we shouldn't have wakened it after all. I hoped the Mutts were closer and that It hated us both equally.
No time to see. Only time to run.
Sounds of destruction behind us. Meaty thwacks and throaty screeches. Lots of dead Mutts.
Then It came for us.
Deek's hole was only twenty yards ahead. Mara tripped on her own feet. I pulled her up. She fell again.
I turned the light behind us.
A twenty-foot tall horror filled the passage.
Six shiny, hairless legs sprung from a loathsome globule of dark flesh twelve feet long. Gleaming red eyes on narrow stalks peered at us, while viscous fluids dripped from thin needles, which poked from its underside like a score of awful nipples. Was it mechanical or biological? Seeing it, I could not say for sure.
I had no voice to scream.
The thing bore down on us faster than any car I'd ever driven.
A dozen guns roared in the darkness behind us. Deerk's people.
The creature paused. Retreated a step.
Suddenly, yellow rubber slid up beside me. "We'll carry her," Deerk said, calm as ever. "We must hurry."
There was no way we'd make it. It was startled for a moment, but I knew It would come again soon. The gunshots caused zero damage. What could stop It?
The third rail. If that didn't kill it, then... Well, I didn't know what would.
No conductors with insulated handholds spontaneously materialized. So, how could I connect the thing to the rail? A little bait might lure It down. Use the beastie's own legs or needle teats as a conductor. Then hope for the best.
I ran toward the beast, and it suddenly seemed much more massive. It hissed with rage, came for me, feet crushing the tunnel floor much too far away from the rail.
Then, the monster was over me, and those syringe teats dribbled their bile on my cheeks and in my hair. The stuff smelled nasty, like wine gone to vinegar, and it was warm and slick, like motor oil. It squatted for me, aiming to impale me, as it had the Mutts.
I ducked and rolled, too slow. A needle scratched across my shoulder, tearing through my Screw-You-niform as though I wore little more than tissue paper. Still, most of the goop spilled on the ground instead of into me. It practically bounced up, then came down again, faster this time, trying to nail me. I was ready this time and hit the floor fully prone. The teats hit rail before they hit me, and the air filled with a new sound as hundreds of volts of high amperage pumped through that sucker. It shivered in place, rattling so loud I thought it might shake itself to pieces.
I spent all my willpower trying not to pee myself. I wondered if It would crush me or ground through me first. Would I feel my own death or would the world end without a single sensation?
Neither. The thing ripped free of the rail. Launched toward the ceiling. Landed on the tunnel floor almost ten feet away, loud as a full crate of dynamite detonating. Yet, still It stood. It moved. It was still quite alive.
I think I muttered some vulgar equivalent of "No freaking way..." as I readied myself for another charge.
Thankfully, the beast had other ideas. Plenty of other prey awaited It. The Mutts must've sounded better than another 'lectric jolt.
I returned to Mara and Deerk. I grabbed her legs, he held her shoulders, and we toted her like a loveseat.
Once through the hole, Deerk said, "The third rail?"
I nodded.
"What you did was truly amazing."
"Thanks."
"You are welcome."
"How about those wheels?"
