Andrew Roller Presents THE FADING UNIVERSE CHAPTER THREE The boulevard was dark and deserted. A makeshift barricade had been thrown across it in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back the Alameda army; Marvin could make out the bright letters of the word POLICE on an overturned sawhorse, and nearby an armored personnel carrier with an Ontario insignia painted on its side sat useless, its tread torn from the body and tangled between the sprockets of its wheels. Here and there lay a uniformed corpse. "We're back in business," Frankie announced, running forward to strip the soldiers and policemen of their weapons and valuables. "I claim any food that you find on them," Flaherty yelled. "Save any tampons you find for Elsa," Perry said with a weak laugh. Elsa shot him an angry glance but said nothing. Within a few minutes they had sorted through all the bodies. Perry had gone aside and, in an act of mad catharsis, castrated several of the dead. Marvin spotted Flaherty giving a particularly thorough search to one female soldier who had noticeably large breasts. They continued walking; past gutted buildings, boarded up shops and abandoned tenements. Now and then they would stop and peer inside one of the stores, but most had been ruined by fire, their interiors glowing eerily with flickering embers. "Hey, Marv," Harrigan called out. "There's a city bus inside this store!" "We must have found the local city bus dealer," Marvin joked. He peered past the plywood that had been nailed over the storefront window. The beam of his police flashlight fell on a smashed up bus. "It must have crashed through the back of the building," he thought aloud. He directed his flashlight deeper into the shop but couldn't make out the rear wall in the gloom. By this time Harrigan had managed to jimmy the front door open and he, Frankie, and Flaherty were banging around inside the store. "Sure stinks in here," Harrigan remarked. "Quit letting so many farts, Flaherty," Frankie said. "I haven't cut any cheese all day," Flaherty protested. Harrigan gave a frightened shout. His flashlight clattered to the floor as he began battering himself with blows. Frankie dashed over to the man and began beating him with his palms. "Help! Insects," Frankie cried. Flaherty bolted out the front door of the shop. Marvin and Elsa ran inside, Perry hung by the door. A minute later Harrigan stumbled out of the store's murky interior, shaken but safe. "Do you need any help?" Perry asked, purposely tardy in his offer of assistance. "No, I'm O.K., thanks," Harrigan mumbled. "You alright, Harrigan?" Flaherty called from across the street. Inside the store the bus's engine coughed to life. Its one surviving headlight blazed through the gloom of the store, blinding Perry, Frankie, and Harrigan. The bus lurched forward, and burst through the glass storefront a moment later. Marvin opened the front door of the bus and kicked out a dead body. Several cockroaches clung to the corpse as it hit the asphalt. "Climb aboard," Marvin invited. "It costs a dollar, but I'll waive the fee as long as you promise to abstain from anal sex." "Harrigan and I each have a dollar," Frankie said, dropping the money in the bus's coin box. Elsa helped Perry climb aboard, despite the boy's protestations that he could mount the steps himself. "Boy, this sure beats walking," Flaherty said, hurrying over from across the avenue. Harrigan plunked down behind the wheel, folded shut the front door, and with a wheeze, the bus rambled off down the dim thoroughfare. # # # Agile figures sprinted amidst the shadows. "I think we've got company," Harrigan reported. He reached up and changed the cellophane sign on the front of the bus from "15th Street" to "Not in Service." "Leatherjackets," Elsa breathed. "Hey, we need a lift," a silhouette called from the curb. "It's Harrigan!" someone shouted. "Harrigan's the driver!" A salvo of gunfire shattered the windows along the left side of the bus. "Duck down," Marvin commanded. He crouched behind a broken window and returned fire. Gaudily dressed figures, most of them young males, ran out behind the vehicle as it passed and threw Molotov cocktails at it. Explosions rocked the bus. Perry leaned out the back window, shouting curses. Suddenly a convertible rushed out of an alley and came up alongside the bus. "Fuck you, Marvin," one of the passengers shouted, firing a bazooka into the bus. Marvin dove to the floor of the bus as the blast tore off a section of the roof above his head. "Damn, they've picked up some pretty heavy artillery," Marvin muttered. "They ain't so smart," Frankie grinned at him. The dwarf leapt onto a seat and nimbly pitched a concussion grenade into the convertible. A cry went up, the car careened toward the pavement, and a moment later an explosion erupted. The bus sped past the wreckage. # # # "What's that humming sound?" Marvin asked worriedly. He was standing inside God knows who's apartment, on the second floor of a building. It fronted one of a myriad of dingy little streets that crisscrossed the city. Outside their bus lay uselessly on its side, smack up against the wall of the building. Marvin figured the Leatherjackets had never needed Òa lift.Ó TheyÕd used that little ruse themselves, he and Perry, to rob more than one motorist. A dilapidated pickup truck had shown amazing fortitude in pursuing them. And there were other vehicles, somewhere in the distance, following fast. The chase had gone full throttle, high-speed, two Somali-like Òtechnical vehiclesÓ exchanging gunfire back and forth. Except one was a pickup that belonged in a junkyard and the other was a city bus. Together they blazed through torn-up sections of Ontario. It was a dance of death between two suicidal lovers. Harrigan had gotten something of a lead, fought for amidst the twists and turns of the interlocking streets. But their lead wasnÕt much. In the end, it cost them their bus. Well, the cityÕs bus, actually, but whether there was any real ÒcityÓ left now was debatable. Harrigan had lost his balance on the last turn. TheyÕd capsized and slid painfully across the road. Marvin was standing on the capsized bus, feeling like some sailor on top of a yellow whale, when heÕd seen the LeatherjacketsÕ pickup lurch into view. Their vehicle was smaller. It made the turn. Quickly Marvin hoisted Perry up through a window on the side of the bus. Frankie was leaning out a window on the second floor of the tenement, firing at the Leatherjackets. Marvin dragged Perry across the overturned metal bus and shoved him up into FrankieÕs window. The dwarf sniped at Perry for screwing up his aim. Perry complained that the dwarfÕs gun had gone off in his ear. Marvin could see himself getting a metal enema before either of them let him through. Now what? HeÕd gotten inside two seconds before the enema arrived, but where was he? He let his eyes graze the dirty walls. Behind him Frankie was back at dueling with the Leatherjackets. Marvin heard a wail as one of them was hit. ÒWeÕre outnumbered, though,Ó a little voice chirped in MarvinÕs head. ÒGet your bearings and get your ass in gear.Ó Marvin glanced at an old television. The screen was busted. Maybe Elvis had stopped here for the night, been upset with the quality of the programming. Yeah, this place had been trashed even before the Alameda army had come through. They werenÕt in the high-rent district, that was for sure. But then, they never were. Batman, of course, would simply have slipped up to the buildingÕs roof and leapt across to another building. But Marvin wasnÕt Batman. And neither was Perry, for that matter. Perry wasnÕt even Perry anymore. When Marvin first met the boy he was shrewd, calculating, a modern Hitler. Now Perry, like Hitler, had gone insane. When he wasnÕt ranting about some perceived injustice he was laying plans for an impossible conquest. Meanwhile, Marvin kept about the day to day work of keeping them all alive. With a little help from his friends. Frankie especially, too short for most people to notice but absolutely deadly with a gun. A gun taller than he was. And Harrigan, a walking advertisement for everyoneÕs notion of what a child molester should look like, but surprisingly cool under fire. It was HarriganÕs expert driving that had just saved them...again. (While Perry screamed useless insults out the back window of the bus.) Of course, there was Elsa. When she wasnÕt too busy playing Òriot grrrlÓ fashion model. She was O.K. And Flaherty? He seemed more trouble than he was worth. But he stuck doggedly with the group. You couldnÕt get rid of him if you wanted too. Marvin figured as long as someone wasnÕt shooting at you, they were on your side. But now they seemed to have walked into a trap of their own making. TheyÕd fucked up the bus, and now there were Leatherjackets outside, working their way in toward the building. One dwarf with a rifle couldnÕt keep them at bay for long. "Insects!" Elsa screamed from the hall. Marvin ran forward. He found her standing at the top of a staircase, gazing down at the hallway on the first floor. Marvin dashed over to her and peered down. Thousands of black cockroaches covered the floor below. ÒOh, shit!Ó Marvin cursed. Well, one benefit of the insects was that theyÕd keep the Leatherjackets out. But it was like a pact with the Devil. He didnÕt want to get shot by the Leatherjackets. Then again, that was nothing to getting eaten alive by bugs. The black mass below writhed, as if it were some giant beast, sniffing the wind. Suddenly, as if responding to some primal cue, they rushed up the stairs. It was a flood. A flood that flowed uphill, and it was fast. "Frankie!" Marvin called out frantically. The dwarf was still merrily preoccupied with trying to kill his fellow man. His shots rang out the apartment window. ÒHee! Go to mama!Ó Frankie chirped to himself as he offed another Leatherjacket. ÒAnother Leatherjerkoff gone!Ó ÒAnd only twenty million to go,Ó Marvin muttered aloud. Wildly he turned his head to try to locate everyone. Flaherty, Harrigan, and even the enfeebled Perry were shooting their asses up the stairs to the third floor, leaving Marvin and Elsa behind. At the top step Harrigan whirled about, realizing that Frankie wasn't with him. Usually the dwarf could be counted on to be right at his heels. But Frankie loved killing even more than fucking. Marvin dashed into the room and grabbed the dwarf. He scooped him up, like you would a small child. There was no time for dignity, no time to ask permission. He ran from the room and dashed up the stairs to the next floor. Behind him he heard shocked cries from the Leatherjackets. TheyÕd used the capsized bus as a staircase into the second floor of the building. ÒGuess they didnÕt know the building had tenants after all,Ó Marvin thought. The carnivorous kind, smaller than Frankie and much more deadly. Impossible to kill too, outnumbering even the Leatherjackets themselves. As they climbed through the second-story window the Leatherjackets dropped haplessly into the roaches. ÒSo much for the advance guard,Ó Marvin muttered. But there would be more, many more. There were always plenty of Leatherjackets. Marvin glanced over his shoulder at Elsa. SheÕd made it, thank God. Up the stairs while he was in the room with Frankie. She was swatting off one or two hardy little bastards that had managed to catch onto her jeans. The rest of the insects had gone straigt for the Leatherjackets. May as well eat everything on the second floor before going up to the third. Bug psychology. Psychology Today, courtesy of the roaches of the world. Eat whatÕs fallen on the floor before you race up the stairs for more. Bugs didnÕt go for the bone in the river when they were holding one in their jaws. "Gee, thanks Marv, I'd forgotten about Frankie," Harrigan said. Marvin turned his glance away from Elsa. He grinned at his trusty driver. "You almost had to go out and buy yourself an inflatable doll," Marvin quipped. "Do they make inflatable male dolls?" Flaherty asked. "Not for you," Frankie replied. "Sorry." "I resent that!" Flaherty objected. "Marvin, tell Frankie to quit picking on me!" "Oh, go fuck your empty potato chip bag," Elsa snapped. ÒLetÕs get going,Ó Marvin said. Now was not the time for squabbling and backbiting. But then, ÒnowÓ never was. They seemed always to be on the run lately, as if Death had decided their time was up. Was it playing with them, watching them Òtwist in the wind,Ó so to speak? Or was Death just a little slow. After all, centuries of killing could slow anyone down. Maybe the Grim Reaper had developed arthritis. It was chasing them, just not quite fast enough. Not yet. ÒLook for a fire escape!Ó Marvin called ahead. They needed something to get them up out of the hallway on the third floor. The top floor, it was, the tip top floor for this slum dwellingÕs must exclusive tenants. Perhaps there would be a helpful sign. ÒThis way to roof.Ó Or, ÒEscaping insects? Right this way.Ó Someone should make signs like that. ÒIn case of total societal collapse, follow the yellow arrows.Ó As luck would have it, the roof had fallen in. Around the corner, down the hall. Of course, there wasnÕt always supposed to be a roof. Sometimes one floor just merged with another. Now, though, concrete reinforced layers blocked any upward movement, to keep one class of people from Òacting suspiciouslyÓ in the neighborhood of another. Ontario had drawn inward over the years, before the War that had ended its empire once and for all. Then, rebuilding after the War, it had built more walls between its citizens, even more than it had built during the decline preceeding the Great and Final War, as some called it. Now buildings that were supposed to connect the floors often didnÕt. ÒExcellent!Ó Perry announced, upon viewing their route to the roof. It was as if the boy thought heÕd created it himself. In fact, it was Harrigan whoÕd sallied ahead to find it. With Frankie, of course, always with Frankie tagging along, directing the man where to go. Harrigan happily obeyed his beloved dwarf. And together they found things like escape routes made out of collapsed roofing materials. Harrigan and Frankie went up first, with Perry just behind, and Flaherty. Marvin helped Elsa over the tumbled roof slabs, while keeping one eye on PerryÕs less-than-athletic efforts. ÒDonÕt take up mountain climbing, Perry,Ó Marvin thought to himself. Of course, Perry wouldnÕt take up mountain climbing. HeÕd ask that the mountain be delivered to him. Surely Marvin could find a way. ÒAfter all, why do you think I consent to having you in my gang?Ó Perry would ask Marvin, as if his friend remained dismissable at will. As if Perry could just go on without him. Marvin wondered if Perry realized their ÒgangÓ was down to himself, two sodomites, an airhead and a fatso. A few moments later Marvin stepped out onto the rooftop. The gloom of the city spread itself before him. Someone had blasted through here recently, reducing many of the nearby buildings to rubble. The air filters must be working overtime to clear the place. Thanks to the man-made view, Marvin could get some sense of where he was from this vantage point. There were buildings, of course, as far as the eye could see, some merging upward into the floor above, some topped off with a roof like this one was. He thought he saw the Emery building in the distance. There was still a lot of smoke hanging in the air, obscuring everything, distorting it. Garish arc lamps stretched across the ceiling at regular intervals; marching off into the distance. Many were burned out. What little light they did provide seemed to turn the overhanging smoke into wraiths and spirits of Doom. In the glow you could just make out the cityscape, once thriving, now a haunt of Leatherjackets, perverts, roaches, the remnants of a society gone mad. And now there was some new war ravaging Ontario. Some unknown army from far away, come to conquer and kill. As if Death didnÕt have enough victims already. ÒI think we can get across, Marv!Ó Frankie called out in his pipsqueak voice. He and Harrigan were over at one end of the roof, sizing up a new escape route. ÒThank God for a breakdown in city planning,Ó Marvin thought. Someone had built a rickety ladder up into a little hole that was cut into the ceiling above. It was on the next roof over, of course (nothing was free in this universe), but there was a board connecting the two roofs. Worn, wiggly-looking (Elsa might look nice going across it), but Hell they could manage a fucking board, couldnÕt they? Below, Marvin heard gunfire. Or, rather, he let it seep back into his consciousness. The Leatherjackets sounded like they were trying to blast their way through the roaches. Dumb, dumb. (Marvin hoped.) There were cries of agony as some Leatherjackets got shot or eaten. Death throes. Cries of anger and frustration. Marvin let his eyes refocus on the board. Frankie was already on the other side now, scampering over to the makeshift ladder. ÒHey, Marv! I think this thing might go up into a WEALTHY section of town!Ó Frankie called out gleefully, peering up, his voice just audible. TheyÕd built soundproofing into the walls and the roofs, into the very material the buildings were made of, a thousand years ago, to cut down on the echoes youÕd normally expect to get. Walls, roofs, with a ceiling above, voices should bounce all over the place, but they didnÕt. Marvin had to shout to make himself heard by the dwarf. ÒLetÕs hope theyÕve all been killed and we can loot the place,Ó Marvin called back. ÔCourse weÕd need someplace to spend whatever we got. Details, details. ÒMarvin, this will be the beginning of our new offensive!Ó Perry announced to him grandly. He stood with one foot on the board, waiting for Harrigan to get across before he himself went over. ÒDonÕt break it!Ó Flaherty called out. Either heÕd been slow (for once) to get across first and save his own skin, or Flaherty was letting Harrigan test the board for him. Dwarf-crossings didnÕt count when you were a fatboy like Flaherty. ÒWith this offensive we shall have Ontario entirely within our grasp!Ó Perry crowed. There was a manic grin on his face. His hair, uncombed as usual, hung slant-wise across his eyes. Perry swept it out of the way with an exaggerated gesture. ÒDeutschland!Ó seemed poised on his lips. Or something Germanic, anyway. Nazi Socialism. The Power of the Will. ÒIÕll stand on the board while you walk across,Ó Marvin offered. ÒVery well. I shall make my crossing now,Ó Perry said. And off he went, awkward as ever, the board bulging ominously downward as he stepped out. ÒHurry up,Ó Marvin thought. Yet, if he hurried, the boy might plunge to his death. But if he didnÕt, Marvin might have to play host to the bugs. ÒWelcome to our fine rooftop restaurant. Your dinner is served!Ó ÒI should have gone next! I got here first!Ó Flaherty whined at Marvin. ÒThereÕs two ways off this roof,Ó Elsa warned him, edging toward Faherty with a bitchy look on her face. ÒIÕm not complaining, IÕm just pointing out the justice of the matter,Ó Flaherty replied. ÒUnfortunately, Death doesnÕt believe in justice,Ó Marvin said. ### "This shopping mall is under the control of the Alameda army," the Lieutenant announced. "You will surrender your weapons. You are now prisoners of the city of Alameda. Co-operate and you will not be harmed." So they had come out underneath a shopping center. Probably Westminster Mall. Marvin had been wondering what building would require such a cavernous basement. "Here's all our guns," Marvin said, casting his plasma Gatling into the pile of arms. "But listen: we just climbed up from a tenement on the floor beneath this mall, and it was crawling with insects." The Lieutenant's face turned pale. He called two privates over to carry away the guns. Then he hurried off to report to his commanding officer. "This way," a sergeant said to Marvin and the others. A group of half a dozen soldiers, part of a basement patrol, escorted Marvin and his friends to the lingerie department of a Famous Bar store on the first floor of the mall, where they joined other captives. ### The department store shuddered as artillery bombarded the mall. Marvin and Elsa exchanged anxious glances, their hands slipping into each other's palms. "We're under attack," the Lieutenant, suddenly appearing, shouted to the prisoners. "I suggest you take cover!" "Must be the city cops," Marvin said to Elsa as he pulled her underneath a table. "Just so it's not the Leathernecks," she breathed. "Or the mutants," Marvin added. Or one of a hundred other groups inside the sprawling city that would find quick work for any cache of arms that they happened upon. Suddenly the ceiling above them collapsed in a shower of cement boulders and broken plaster. "You O.K.?" Marvin asked Elsa as a snow of alabaster dust drifted down upon them. "Yeah." She coughed. Marvin crawled out from underneath the table. "All I asked for was a refund," Perry quipped when he saw him. Marvin spotted Flaherty's feet sticking out from underneath a rack of women's dresses. "Marvin? Are you still there, Marvin?" the fat boy's voice quavered. Harrigan appeared, dressed in a see-through nightie, with a flowered corselet around his thigh. "Pull your pants on," Marvin told Harrigan. "And get Frankie." CHAPTER FOUR The subway station was jammed with people. Every time a train pulled in they crowded toward it, pressing themselves into the cars. Within moments the train would be filled to capacity. Its metal doors would slide shut and the train would pitch forward into the blackness of the tunnel, leaving hordes of hopeful passengers stranded on the brightly lit platform. Marvin waded through the crowd, Elsa clasping his hand, trailing behind him. A little further back Frankie, Harrigan, and Flaherty followed. Perry, just behind Elsa, passed his hands lovingly over the little girls he passed as the gang wedged its way forward. Anonymous touchings in a crowd by a stranger whoÕd disappeared by the time the girl turned her head to look. They were somewhere in the heart of Ontario, sheep amidst more sheep, with no shepherd around to protect them from wolves. Here on the platform were bespectacled businessmen, librarians, city clerks, all the culturally neutered people so necessary to the efficient organization of a state. They were without weapons. And they were without any survival plan. TheyÕd called 911 and no one had answered. But they still believed in the state, whether it really existed any more or not. The state, like Tinkerbell, MUST exist. And if they stood here long enough and mentally clapped their hands surely it would come into being. Someone would arrive. Someone with a badge, with authority. They would be told where to go, what to do, how to live, and some of them, surely, would have to be told how to die...violators, perpetrators, those that remained uncastrated in modern society. Those that still had Òballs.Ó Marvin was uneasy in such a group. HeÕd grown up in the ghetto, and just by looking at the walls of the subway he could tell he wasnÕt in his element. There was no graphitti here. No incidental scrawlings designed to say, ÒWe rule here, and weÕre not the State.Ó No, here the state ruled. Instead of graffiti there were nicely lettered signs. ÒNo Littering.Ó ÒDo Not Stand in Front of the White Line.Ó But there was a sense of desperation in the crowd. An idea had been let loose, and it simply would not get back in the bottle. It whispered among the people, rattled in their heads, rattled their nerves. If they did litter, would anyone arrest them? And if they...well, it was unthinkable. Did they need a sign now that said, ÒDo Not Rape.Ó ÒDo Not Pillage.Ó ÒDo Not Murder.Ó And if those signs were properly painted up and hung, would anyone enforce THEM? Half an hour passed. Marvin gazed into the abyss of the subway tunnel, waiting for a train. Behind him Flaherty noisily sucked up the foam residue of an empty milkshake. Occasionally, when the murmur of the crowd faded, Marvin could hear a broken pipe dripping water. Marvin shifted his weight onto his left foot. He licked the beads of perspiration off his upper lip. His mouth felt dry, like sandpaper. TheyÕd run with the other captives from Westminster Mall. It had been total chaos. Their crowd had merged with others, and those into a larger mass. People, well heeled and well clothed, with perhaps their last meal already in their bellies, running. Shouting and grabbing and trying to hold on, as rocket batteries echoed over them and into them. Death was loose here, swinging his scythe. Death did not have arthritis now. Marvin had no choice but to seek out the thickest part of the crowd. Use the bodies as protection from all the firepower that was going off around them. Alameda had lost control of the mall, but to whom? And did it matter? Had Alameda merely lost the position momentarily, suffered a setback, and were they now on the attack? Whoever was doing the shooting, it seemed to be coming down on the crowd from all sides. Someone had the bright idea of running down into a subway tunnel, and the crowd followed. Marvin figured they must be about on the level of the Westminster MallÕs basement, maybe five or six blocks over. For all he knew a train would pull in and whoever had gotten control of the mall would be on it, come to round them all up and haul them back. ÒThis is your lucky day, shoppers. The mall is open forever and you get to live there now. Until we decide what to do with you, anyway. Until we restore Òorder.Ó Our order. Just follow our orders.Ó Marvin didnÕt like this, being unarmed and among people like this. It reminded him of Jews being herded off to a concentration camp. Once you got a lot of people together they seemed worth less to somebody with a gun, especially somebody with a grudge. They became just bodies. They became easy to kill. Perhaps fun to kill. Marvin could imagine Perry setting a bomb off among a group of people like this. ÒHi, itÕs time to Die!Ó With a grin heÕd unburden himself of some perceived offence, with luck heÕd cow and enslave the survivors. Well, theyÕd live better then, that was for sure. But right now they had no bomb and they were among the crowd, not outside it. TheyÕd die right along with it if some wiseass did set a bomb off, or started shooting into it. There would be no special dispensation for Marvin and Perry. No Òfree passÓ for fellow bandits. They were faceless in a faceless crowd. A crowd where there were no names, no addresses, just bodies. And the bodies were pressed together, too close, and the people were getting edgy. They were beginning to want to kill each other. The guy next to them who sweated too much, whoÕd stepped on their foot, whoÕd looked at their wife or their daughter. The crowd itself would turn into a bomb if something didnÕt happen soon. Something to relieve the tension. Fortunately, Anacin was on the way. Sometimes drugs do have side effects, though, Marvin worried, as he caught the faint glimmer of steel on steel shimmering in the far distance. He cocked his head. Mentally he began rehearsing how he would handle the situation. HeÕd gotten them close to the edge, in front of most of the people. One thing was for sure, he wanted on that train. He felt like he was in a prison here, like he was in a tomb that maybe somebody had already closed shut. They were going to get on that train no matter what. Around him, other ears perked up, heads turned, everyone heard it now. A train! A low roar echoed from deep inside the tunnel. The crowd came alive. It pushed forward. Relief at last. SOMETHING, anything to relieve the terrible tedium. The waiting. God, they could not wait any longer. A moment later a train pulled into the station, a harsh squeal permeating the heavy air as its brakes engaged. Marvin half expected to see Ringo Star emerge. ÒHullo there,Ó heÕd say, in his proper, clipped British accent. And he could feel the crowd feeling the same thing. Yes, it would be Ringo, and heÕd have a pocket watch. And of course the first item on the agenda would be the proper presentation of tickets. Not that any of them had any, of course, but Ringo would ask for them all the same. A matter of procedure, you know, and fill out this form in triplicate if youÕre without one. Hurry, old boy, people are waiting. We have a schedule to keep. The train's pneumatic doors opened with a dull thud. But there was no Ringo, not even any Leatherjackets. Just millions upon millions of insects. Elsa let out a shrill scream of horror, her ululation joining that of thousands. ### Marvin sat dazedly in a puddle of blood on the floor of the speeding train, his back resting against a pair of metal double doors. He feebly reached up and felt the cloth tourniquet around the bleeding stump of what had been, just minutes ago, his right arm. His thoughts still reeled, one scene dominating all the rest. In his mind Elsa stood just outside the door of the train. Marvin reached out and grabbed her hand. Without warning, the steel pneumatic train doors closed solidly on his arm. Elsa fell against the side of the train as it bolted away from the platform. Then, like a rag doll, she sprawled backward into a seething mass of abandoned people and rapacious roaches. Marvin couldn't believe it. He had positioned himself, Elsa, and the others at exactly the right place on the platform; close to the edge, but not so near to it that they could be pushed off. And they had endured the interminable wait, crushed together in the thick damp air of the tunnel. Marvin shuddered reflexively as his mind's eye pictured the first train as it came in, filled with ebony beetles. Almost immediately afterward a second train had pulled in on the opposite side of the platform. Behind them. Of course. There were two sides to the platform, each with its own track, and Marvin had picked the wrong side. It had been a 50/50 gamble, and (like so often lately) heÕd picked the losing side. Marvin's mind shifted from the rush across the platform to the wrenching pain that had shot through his body when his extended arm, caught in the door and sticking out of the train, had been ruthlessly clipped off by the cinderblock wall as the train passed into the tunnel. "Hey, I think I know who that skinny boy is," a burly passenger said of Perry, who had awakened from a traumatized fatigue and was sitting on the floor near Marvin. "You're right, I know him too," a middle aged man said angrily. "He was on the evening news last night. That kid is Perry, the head of the gang that blew up South Haven elementary school!" "No, you're mistaken," Marvin mumbled, grimacing with pain as he turned his head. "He's just a high school student at Brownbury. Honors, in fact." "And who are you, his mother?" the burly man yelled. "I know a face when I see one!" The loss of Marvin's arm had attracted the attention of the entire train. Someone had bandaged it for him. Someone who claimed to be a doctor. Marvin couldnÕt remember who now, heÕd been dazed, in shock. A face in the crowd. A face among faces. And all the faces had been staring at him. And someone, staring long enough, had recognized Perry now. Marvin felt more trapped than ever, and he was in no condition to fight, to do anything really, except maybe to die. Suddenly the passengers, pent up and with no one to blame for their agony, were in a frenzy. The crowd closed in. Fists began to fly. Blind rage rippled in toward Marvin like some in-sucking whirlpool, and he was at the vortex. It was as if he were sucking in all the hate in the world, and he knew it must consume him. ### Marvin's eyes sprang open. He felt a rush of cool wind all around him. Suddenly he realized that he was falling through the air, plummeting down toward a vast blue ocean. The shoreline, jagged with the metal outcroppings of ruined tunnels, was directly to his right. Above him a train was crossing a trestle. Marvin's mind flashed back to the fight on board the train. Harrigan, Frankie, and Flaherty had managed to beat back the enraged passengers long enough for the train to get out over water. Then they had cast Marvin and Perry out the window. Marvin slipped into unconsciousness for a moment. The shock of cold water woke him as he hit the sea. Above him the train exploded. He stared speechlessly at the pieces of the train as they blew apart and curved slowly earthward. Marvin squeezed his eyes shut as debris splattered on the undulating waves all around him. A while later Marvin was jostled into consciousness by someone bobbing beside him. It was Flaherty. "Boy, we sure got out of that train in the nick of time, huh, Marv?" "Flaherty! You escaped!" Marvin cried. "Yup. Me, Frankie, and Harrigan jumped out just a few moments after we threw you overboard." Flaherty let out a silly laugh. Soon the others joined them. Then they all paddled slowly toward an extrusion of twisted steel that stood above the waves in the middle of the bay. Reseda Island. Once it, along with all the metal corridors that lined the shore of the sea, had been part of a seamless network of tunnels. But during the war a pulse bomb had gone off in this area, gouging out a huge hole, breaking open an encapsulated reservoir. They would be safe on Reseda Island, at least from the insects, for the bugs couldn't cross water. It was impossible for them to infiltrate Reseda from below, either, because water had flooded the portion of the superstructure that sat beneath the ocean's surface. The bugs could try crawling across the wide expanse of serrated ceiling that stretched across the sea, but the drop down on to the uppermost peaks of Reseda would, Marvin hoped, kill them. "Say, Marv, do you think there are any sharks in this water?" Flaherty asked uneasily. "No, just Piranhas." ### Marvin sat wrapped in a wooly blanket in front of a blazing fire. He sipped at a soothing mug of warm ale, reflecting merrily at how quickly Flaherty had swam to Reseda Island, gullibly swallowing Marvin's gibe about the caribes. Perry sat next to Marvin, toasting his bare feet before the iron grate of the hearth. Casey's pub. Located on Reseda Island, Casey's had long been a haunt of the fishermen from the clapboard village of Chatsworth that huddled amidst the mutant-infested ruins along the shore. The bar also catered to a host of undesirables, as its owner was undiscriminating in whom he served. As long as one paid his tab, Casey catered cheerfully to your needs and asked no questions. "Pretty tough, huh Marv?" Flaherty asked. "What is?" "Casey told me Alameda blew up that subway. With a cannon. Apparently they had issued a warning. If anyone tried to leave Ontario, they would be killed." "It's nice to know Alameda keeps its word," Marvin said dully. "Hey, Casey, how 'bout some more ale, pal?" Flaherty shouted. When the robust man had re-filled his mug, Flaherty resumed relating the details of the train wreck, but Marvin had slipped into a troubled sleep. ### When Marvin awoke he was slouched in the same chair. His eyes focused on a mug of hot ale (recently refilled by Casey) and he made to pick it up. Suddenly he realized that his right arm was missing, and the pain and horror of the previous day's events came rushing back. "A group of people just arrived from Chatsworth," Flaherty said, alarmed. "They say the insects penned in a tribe of mutants along the shore and those deformities are heading right this way." "What's that you say?" Casey, across the room, blustered, his face crimson. A fisherman, drenched with rain, replied, "I said the mutants killed four families. Snuck up on their homes without a sound." "Damn bloody bastards!" Casey cried. "Men," Casey announced, addressing his patrons, "I cain't require you to remain, but if ye have any love of God in ye you'll stay and give those foul sewer rat mutants the licking they deserve! Help those debased slaves home to the devil in Hell what spawned 'em!" A roar went up. Men pounded the tables, shouting. The venetian lamps hanging overhead swayed to and fro. Like revolutionary patriots, Casey's customers jumped up and began hurrying about, fortifying the bar and the dock outside, preparing the island against an attack by the mutants. ### The boat rocked back and forth amidst the rippling waves. Marvin hunched in the bow, a blanket pulled over his head to shield himself against the sheets of rain that buffeted the sea. He wondered absently when the storm clouds that had formed inside the large interior of the cavern would dissipate. To Marvin's right the burning methane from Signal Hill, Ontario's oil refinery, cast a bright orange glow over the sable waters. When Marvin had been thrown out of the subway the ocean had been tyndall blue, illuminated by slender arc lights that traversed the roof. Now a power failure had cast the cavern into darkness. Marvin gazed at Reseda Island as the sloop receded from it. Chunks of the licorice monolith were in flames. Casey's tavern overflowed with triumphant mutants, hooting and howling in victorious celebration. The remnants of Casey's customers and the families who had fled Chatsworth retreated in a motley assortment of dilapidated fishing vessels. Marvin's head nodded and a moment later he drifted off to sleep. NEXT ISSUE: "Gran'pa, throw these gays o'erboard into the shit! They won't need to excavate for it if they're swimmin' in it!" ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Free Dreamgirls e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age statement to: roller666@aol.com -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 -Back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop? -or send e-mail to: file.archives@backdrop.com -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A. -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -NEW small Usenet newsgroup: uw.alt.sex.stories -END OF ftp EMISSION