Welcome to the Borderlands
- Chapter 35 -
Special Green Glasses Allowed Us to See the Yellow Line on the Road
“When I die I want to meet God and say, what the Hell were you thinking…like what were you thinking?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I see the angel in the marble and carve until I set him free…Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” -Michelangelo
“I get some ideas of kind of what I want to do then whatever it takes to see it through; that’s the way I do it. I treat it like sculpture. I like to see the frame up there and then let it flow; let it happen, whatever comes natural. When you hear the bike breathe its first breath that’s probably the biggest reward…every bike is like a child or work of art, like a creation that goes from dream to reality.” -Kendall Johnson of KENDALL JOHNSON CUSTOMS from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“Roll with the mystery; life’s uncertain. Just be comfortable with that…why fight it?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I have more faith in you than you have in you.” -Paul Cox to Robert Pradke from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF and MATTHEW 14:31
“Trust in God…Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord…No Fear…” -TATTOOED ‘backwards’ on Indian Larry’s neck so he could read it in the mirror.
“I see the angel in the marble and carve until I set him free…Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” -Michelangelo
“I get some ideas of kind of what I want to do then whatever it takes to see it through; that’s the way I do it. I treat it like sculpture. I like to see the frame up there and then let it flow; let it happen, whatever comes natural. When you hear the bike breathe its first breath that’s probably the biggest reward…every bike is like a child or work of art, like a creation that goes from dream to reality.” -Kendall Johnson of KENDALL JOHNSON CUSTOMS from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“Roll with the mystery; life’s uncertain. Just be comfortable with that…why fight it?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I have more faith in you than you have in you.” -Paul Cox to Robert Pradke from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF and MATTHEW 14:31
“Trust in God…Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord…No Fear…” -TATTOOED ‘backwards’ on Indian Larry’s neck so he could read it in the mirror.
It wasn’t long after Larry and I braked to a stop that the pursuing fire truck could be heard laboring up the hill behind us. We’d parked our bikes fifty yards ahead and had run back to hide behind an outcropping of rock above the inside of the curve. The grinding of its gears, the whining of its engine announced the truck’s coming. We could’ve been long gone but for knowing it would be best to end the chase now.
In the short time before the fire truck arrived I had to ask, “I know you used one of the flares to ignite the spilled gasoline on the ramp; but when did you have time to make the other flare into an explosive using your special marinating sauce?”
“I started,” Larry answered, “making the sauce right after Hilts gave the flares to me. You were still asleep and I felt I could rush the process by baking the marinated flare dry in the River Inn’s pizza oven. I’m now wondering if rushing the drying process was such a good idea. Maybe the accelerated drying wasn’t meant to be? Maybe it’s what they mean when they say…drink no wine before its time?”
“Maybe we’re about,” I said, “to find out if you made a mellow merlot or a mistake?”
And as if on cue the fire truck came around the bend but too fast…it wasn’t loaded down with water. And then Larry lit the marinated flare and aimed for the truck’s hood but missed and threw it onto the cab. And when the truck was parallel to where our bikes were parked one of the rifleman reached for the lit flare but knocked it into the small space between the cab and the rest of the truck. And when the same rifleman reached to grab the flare…it exploded and the rifleman’s severed head flew up and by us. And I could have sworn as the head flew by its eyes followed us…shitttt…
Aside from blowing off the rifleman’s head the blast cut the truck’s fuel line and brake cables. Without fuel and brakes the truck began to roll backwards and was soon rolling too fast to jump from and because the blast happened next to where our bikes were parked it set fire to the plastic bodied M109 and blew holes in the almost all steel Raider…shitttt…
In the short time before the fire truck arrived I had to ask, “I know you used one of the flares to ignite the spilled gasoline on the ramp; but when did you have time to make the other flare into an explosive using your special marinating sauce?”
“I started,” Larry answered, “making the sauce right after Hilts gave the flares to me. You were still asleep and I felt I could rush the process by baking the marinated flare dry in the River Inn’s pizza oven. I’m now wondering if rushing the drying process was such a good idea. Maybe the accelerated drying wasn’t meant to be? Maybe it’s what they mean when they say…drink no wine before its time?”
“Maybe we’re about,” I said, “to find out if you made a mellow merlot or a mistake?”
And as if on cue the fire truck came around the bend but too fast…it wasn’t loaded down with water. And then Larry lit the marinated flare and aimed for the truck’s hood but missed and threw it onto the cab. And when the truck was parallel to where our bikes were parked one of the rifleman reached for the lit flare but knocked it into the small space between the cab and the rest of the truck. And when the same rifleman reached to grab the flare…it exploded and the rifleman’s severed head flew up and by us. And I could have sworn as the head flew by its eyes followed us…shitttt…
Aside from blowing off the rifleman’s head the blast cut the truck’s fuel line and brake cables. Without fuel and brakes the truck began to roll backwards and was soon rolling too fast to jump from and because the blast happened next to where our bikes were parked it set fire to the plastic bodied M109 and blew holes in the almost all steel Raider…shitttt…
Special green glasses allowed us to see the yellow line on the road ahead
All the other riflemen remained onboard. Did they think the driver still had brakes and could bring the truck under control?
“Why,” asked Larry, “aren’t they jumping? My plan was just to blow apart the engine so they couldn’t follow us.”
“Maybe,” I answered as I watched the fire truck gain even more backward speed, “they think the driver still has brakes?”
In the time it took for Larry to ask why the riflemen weren’t jumping and the time it took for me to answer the fire truck was moving much tooooo fast for them to jump…and it rolled backwards over the outside of the curve…and in what seemed like tooooo long of a time later we heard it land at the bottom of the hill and explode…shitttt…
“Should we check to see if anyone survived?
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Larry answered as he walked to our bikes. “The M109’s looks like melted cheese and the shrapnel holes in the Raider make it look like a piece of Swiss cheese. Those men were gonna have us for dinner and not as guests. We’ll now have to double up on the Raider, if it still runs, to get to the valve on time.”
“What valve?”
“We’ve got to open a large valve before sunset.”
“What if we open it after sunset?”
“The valve’s a trigger, a catalyst. Opening it creates a vacuum which allows water valves inside the dam to open. The water valves inside the dam are huge and run by solar power. After the sun sets they can’t be opened.”
The old saying, “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, for the want of the shoe the horse was lost, for the want of a horse the rider was lost and for the want of the rider the battle was lost.”…took on new meaning…
Luckily the Raider, while leaking oil and gas from a lot of holes but with no holes in the tires, still ran. High speed curves became the norm and at a pace far beyond my skills. Even at those speeds Larry was holding back to keep me from falling off the back of the bike …shitttt…
We crested the final hill with the sun just above the horizon…amend that to touching the horizon.
Before us was what appeared to be a dam at the end of a vast bay? How big the body of water behind the dam was would’ve been only a guess. Was it a large cove to a giant lake or a small bay to a landlocked sea? I couldn’t tell for sure.
Larry pulled to a stop beside one of the biggest valves I’d ever seen. The valve was at the bottom of a road at the base of the dam leading to the top of the dam. Hemorrhaging oil the Raider’s engine was virtually running metal to metal and hot.
“We’re going to need,” Larry was stating the obvious, “some luck opening this thing. It’s huge and it looks like it hasn’t been opened in years.”
“It hasn’t,” said a voice from behind us, “and it’s not going to be. It’s closed for a reason.”
The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon when Larry pulled out his 44 magnum reason to open the valve. I followed with my 10mm reason. We then turned around.
Behind us was a seven foot man looking more like a troll…let’s face it he was a troll. His hands were the size of shovels. He wore overalls, a work shirt and a brown hat…and some boots that looked to be a size twenty and a smile that held a half chewed half smoked cigar. And I could smell his raw meat breath from where I was standing…shitttt…
“Easy there,” said the troll, “kill me and you’ll never open that valve.”
“We need,” replied Larry and at the same time keeping his pistol pointed at the troll’s chest, “to open this valve to flood out the burrows under the elevated highway.”
“So you’re just gonna flood us out? Ya know,” the troll continued, “we were once folks just like you. We didn’t always live in burrows.”
“You left out the part,” I added, “where you’re trapping and feeding on travelers. You’re even feeding on each other.”
“And it’s making,” Larry added to my addition and eyeing the troll’s abnormal size and shape, “you into mutants.”
“Why,” asked Larry, “aren’t they jumping? My plan was just to blow apart the engine so they couldn’t follow us.”
“Maybe,” I answered as I watched the fire truck gain even more backward speed, “they think the driver still has brakes?”
In the time it took for Larry to ask why the riflemen weren’t jumping and the time it took for me to answer the fire truck was moving much tooooo fast for them to jump…and it rolled backwards over the outside of the curve…and in what seemed like tooooo long of a time later we heard it land at the bottom of the hill and explode…shitttt…
“Should we check to see if anyone survived?
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Larry answered as he walked to our bikes. “The M109’s looks like melted cheese and the shrapnel holes in the Raider make it look like a piece of Swiss cheese. Those men were gonna have us for dinner and not as guests. We’ll now have to double up on the Raider, if it still runs, to get to the valve on time.”
“What valve?”
“We’ve got to open a large valve before sunset.”
“What if we open it after sunset?”
“The valve’s a trigger, a catalyst. Opening it creates a vacuum which allows water valves inside the dam to open. The water valves inside the dam are huge and run by solar power. After the sun sets they can’t be opened.”
The old saying, “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, for the want of the shoe the horse was lost, for the want of a horse the rider was lost and for the want of the rider the battle was lost.”…took on new meaning…
Luckily the Raider, while leaking oil and gas from a lot of holes but with no holes in the tires, still ran. High speed curves became the norm and at a pace far beyond my skills. Even at those speeds Larry was holding back to keep me from falling off the back of the bike …shitttt…
We crested the final hill with the sun just above the horizon…amend that to touching the horizon.
Before us was what appeared to be a dam at the end of a vast bay? How big the body of water behind the dam was would’ve been only a guess. Was it a large cove to a giant lake or a small bay to a landlocked sea? I couldn’t tell for sure.
Larry pulled to a stop beside one of the biggest valves I’d ever seen. The valve was at the bottom of a road at the base of the dam leading to the top of the dam. Hemorrhaging oil the Raider’s engine was virtually running metal to metal and hot.
“We’re going to need,” Larry was stating the obvious, “some luck opening this thing. It’s huge and it looks like it hasn’t been opened in years.”
“It hasn’t,” said a voice from behind us, “and it’s not going to be. It’s closed for a reason.”
The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon when Larry pulled out his 44 magnum reason to open the valve. I followed with my 10mm reason. We then turned around.
Behind us was a seven foot man looking more like a troll…let’s face it he was a troll. His hands were the size of shovels. He wore overalls, a work shirt and a brown hat…and some boots that looked to be a size twenty and a smile that held a half chewed half smoked cigar. And I could smell his raw meat breath from where I was standing…shitttt…
“Easy there,” said the troll, “kill me and you’ll never open that valve.”
“We need,” replied Larry and at the same time keeping his pistol pointed at the troll’s chest, “to open this valve to flood out the burrows under the elevated highway.”
“So you’re just gonna flood us out? Ya know,” the troll continued, “we were once folks just like you. We didn’t always live in burrows.”
“You left out the part,” I added, “where you’re trapping and feeding on travelers. You’re even feeding on each other.”
“And it’s making,” Larry added to my addition and eyeing the troll’s abnormal size and shape, “you into mutants.”
Behind us was a very large man looking more like a troll…let’s face it he probably was a troll. His hands were the size of shovels. He wore overalls, a work shirt and a brown hat…and some boots that looked to be a size twenty and a smile that held a half chewed half smoked cigar. And I could smell his raw meat breath from where I was standing…shitttt…
“You’re gonna need,” continued the troll, “to open this valve before sunset and the two of you can’t. It needs to be open to start the pumps inside the dam.”
“But the good news is you’re gonna help us,” I said pointing my 10mm at his head and then at the valve’s wheel.
“Ok, ok,” said the troll, “but it’ll take the three of us. You two grab hold of the valve’s wheel opposite side. Opening this thing is too big of a job even for me.”
And soooo as hard as the three of us tried…and the three of us realeeee did try and our muscles bulged and the troll farted he tried soooo hard and smell of the troll’s fart matched the smell of his breath and made me wonder what he’d eaten for lunch (maybe he was eating other mutants?) we couldn’t open the valve and we tried until the sun finally set…shitttt…
“Now that the sun’s set you’ve only one other option,” said the troll while wiping his brow with his sleeve, “and there’s no guarantee he’ll help you?”
“Who,” I was still wondering what the troll had for lunch and if he’d actually been pushing against Larry and me on the valve’s wheel to prevent it from opening, “is he?”
“It’s not so much who you need to talk to but what you need to talk to,” answered the troll. “I saw it once, and for the sake of argument, I’ll call it a he instead of it. He lives inside the dam. He may have even built the damn dam and he’s always there. He was there before I came.”
“Where,” Larry asked, “can we find it…I mean him?”
“Just follow this road to the top of the dam. It ends at a huge metal door then pound on the door. Don’t worry you’ll meet him when he answers and he always answers.”
“You’ve met him,” I said, “so why not come with us? Think of it as a way of getting reacquainted.”
“He said if he ever saw me again he’d never see me again.”
“Are you,” asked Larry, “afraid of him?”
“Dam…I mean damned right I’m afraid of him. He’s nearly twice my size and made of metal…”
“But the good news is you’re gonna help us,” I said pointing my 10mm at his head and then at the valve’s wheel.
“Ok, ok,” said the troll, “but it’ll take the three of us. You two grab hold of the valve’s wheel opposite side. Opening this thing is too big of a job even for me.”
And soooo as hard as the three of us tried…and the three of us realeeee did try and our muscles bulged and the troll farted he tried soooo hard and smell of the troll’s fart matched the smell of his breath and made me wonder what he’d eaten for lunch (maybe he was eating other mutants?) we couldn’t open the valve and we tried until the sun finally set…shitttt…
“Now that the sun’s set you’ve only one other option,” said the troll while wiping his brow with his sleeve, “and there’s no guarantee he’ll help you?”
“Who,” I was still wondering what the troll had for lunch and if he’d actually been pushing against Larry and me on the valve’s wheel to prevent it from opening, “is he?”
“It’s not so much who you need to talk to but what you need to talk to,” answered the troll. “I saw it once, and for the sake of argument, I’ll call it a he instead of it. He lives inside the dam. He may have even built the damn dam and he’s always there. He was there before I came.”
“Where,” Larry asked, “can we find it…I mean him?”
“Just follow this road to the top of the dam. It ends at a huge metal door then pound on the door. Don’t worry you’ll meet him when he answers and he always answers.”
“You’ve met him,” I said, “so why not come with us? Think of it as a way of getting reacquainted.”
“He said if he ever saw me again he’d never see me again.”
“Are you,” asked Larry, “afraid of him?”
“Dam…I mean damned right I’m afraid of him. He’s nearly twice my size and made of metal…”
“We need,” replied Larry and at the same time keeping his pistol pointed at the troll’s chest, “to open this valve to flood out the burrows under the elevated highway.”
Larry laughed, “What if we ask politely…I mean if he was nice enough to warn you away maybe he’ll help us?”
I didn’t know if Larry was being serious or sarcastic. What I did know was our mission was getting more complicated.
“You two better get going. Now that the sun’s set your only choice now is to convince him to open the valves inside the dam. He’s the only one that can do it.”
“Why,” I asked, “not just wait for tomorrow?”
“Because now that the sun has set the nice folks, me included, that live in the burrows will be coming for you. We can’t help it; we’re compelled, it’s our nature to hunt after dark. We’ll wait a bit for it to get a bit darker then we’ll be a coming and you don’t have enough bullets to stop all of us. Oh, and if you’re wondering if I pushed against you when you were trying to open the valve…I did.”
“If you’re against us,” I asked, “why are you warning us?”
“I owe you; you could’ve shot me by now but haven’t.”
Larry turned the Raider, which barely ran, around and pointed it up the hill. I jumped on as passenger. No sooner was I aboard than Larry accelerated up the road. We were at the top of the road in less than a minute.
“Here’s,” I pointed as we parked at the foot of a giant steel door, “the door; it’s at least ten feet in height. Which one of us gets to knock…and why didn’t you shoot the troll?”
Larry got off the Raider, which had finally seized its engine from lack of oil, and threw a rock at the door. The rock hit making a hollow sound. He threw another…which hit making another hollow sound.
“Well its official the Raider’s engine is fried, the sun has set and I didn’t shoot the troll because it…it…well it just didn’t seem like the right thing to do.” Larry continued, “How many clips do you have for your 10mm?”
“I’ve four maybe five ten round clips.”
“Empty half of one of them into the door. Do it now!”
Careful to angle my shots for ricochets I fired half of a ten round clip into the steel door…shitttt…
When I was in the eighth grade my mom took me to hear the San Francisco Symphony orchestra play at Golden Gate Park. It was outside on the lawn and we were seated near the front. There was a roll of kettle drums to start the performance, it was deafening. My five 10mm rounds hitting the steel door reminded me of that kettle drum roll.
“Hold your horses, hold your horses, I’m coming. I heard you when you threw the first rock.”
Larry and I kept looking for where the voice was coming from all the while expecting to see a metal giant nearly twice the size of the troll.
“Hey…up here…I’m up here.”
Larry and I looked upwards.
Pressed outwards from inside the top of the steel door was a huge face. It was as if the ten foot steel door was a dark sheet of plastic and the face pressed against the other side made the steel form around its features. The face was strong not cruel and about a foot in height and wore a smile…if metal faces could smile. I felt no ill will directed at me from it.
“I wish we had the dreamcatcher that by design reacts to evil but I’m not feeling any negative energy from the face.”
“Neither am I,” answered Larry. “Actually I’m feeling more of a genuine curiosity, almost surprise.”
And as if in answer to our feelings the metal face asked, “How can I help you two?”
“We need you,” Larry’s answer was direct and to the point, “to release water from the dam.”
“A direct answer;” smiled the large metal face, “it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a direct answer. But why should I?”
“Because we’re soon going to be chased by mutants that live in burrows in the river bed, which doubles as the dam’s spillway, that’s under the elevated highway.”
“Another direct answer,” said the face, “and are these mutants being led by a seven foot troll that smokes cigars?”
“Yes,” I answered. “But how did you know he was seven feet tall and smoked cigars?”
I didn’t know if Larry was being serious or sarcastic. What I did know was our mission was getting more complicated.
“You two better get going. Now that the sun’s set your only choice now is to convince him to open the valves inside the dam. He’s the only one that can do it.”
“Why,” I asked, “not just wait for tomorrow?”
“Because now that the sun has set the nice folks, me included, that live in the burrows will be coming for you. We can’t help it; we’re compelled, it’s our nature to hunt after dark. We’ll wait a bit for it to get a bit darker then we’ll be a coming and you don’t have enough bullets to stop all of us. Oh, and if you’re wondering if I pushed against you when you were trying to open the valve…I did.”
“If you’re against us,” I asked, “why are you warning us?”
“I owe you; you could’ve shot me by now but haven’t.”
Larry turned the Raider, which barely ran, around and pointed it up the hill. I jumped on as passenger. No sooner was I aboard than Larry accelerated up the road. We were at the top of the road in less than a minute.
“Here’s,” I pointed as we parked at the foot of a giant steel door, “the door; it’s at least ten feet in height. Which one of us gets to knock…and why didn’t you shoot the troll?”
Larry got off the Raider, which had finally seized its engine from lack of oil, and threw a rock at the door. The rock hit making a hollow sound. He threw another…which hit making another hollow sound.
“Well its official the Raider’s engine is fried, the sun has set and I didn’t shoot the troll because it…it…well it just didn’t seem like the right thing to do.” Larry continued, “How many clips do you have for your 10mm?”
“I’ve four maybe five ten round clips.”
“Empty half of one of them into the door. Do it now!”
Careful to angle my shots for ricochets I fired half of a ten round clip into the steel door…shitttt…
When I was in the eighth grade my mom took me to hear the San Francisco Symphony orchestra play at Golden Gate Park. It was outside on the lawn and we were seated near the front. There was a roll of kettle drums to start the performance, it was deafening. My five 10mm rounds hitting the steel door reminded me of that kettle drum roll.
“Hold your horses, hold your horses, I’m coming. I heard you when you threw the first rock.”
Larry and I kept looking for where the voice was coming from all the while expecting to see a metal giant nearly twice the size of the troll.
“Hey…up here…I’m up here.”
Larry and I looked upwards.
Pressed outwards from inside the top of the steel door was a huge face. It was as if the ten foot steel door was a dark sheet of plastic and the face pressed against the other side made the steel form around its features. The face was strong not cruel and about a foot in height and wore a smile…if metal faces could smile. I felt no ill will directed at me from it.
“I wish we had the dreamcatcher that by design reacts to evil but I’m not feeling any negative energy from the face.”
“Neither am I,” answered Larry. “Actually I’m feeling more of a genuine curiosity, almost surprise.”
And as if in answer to our feelings the metal face asked, “How can I help you two?”
“We need you,” Larry’s answer was direct and to the point, “to release water from the dam.”
“A direct answer;” smiled the large metal face, “it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a direct answer. But why should I?”
“Because we’re soon going to be chased by mutants that live in burrows in the river bed, which doubles as the dam’s spillway, that’s under the elevated highway.”
“Another direct answer,” said the face, “and are these mutants being led by a seven foot troll that smokes cigars?”
“Yes,” I answered. “But how did you know he was seven feet tall and smoked cigars?”
Pressed outwards from inside the top of the steel door was a huge face. It was as if the ten foot steel door was a dark sheet of plastic and the face pressed against the other side made the steel form around its features. The face was strong not cruel and about a foot in height and wore a smile.
“Because he and his friends are right behind you;” said the giant metal face, "they followed you…come in quickly.”
The door swung in about two feet opening into the darkest darkness I’d ever seen. Taking one last look at the riddled with holes and still leaking oil and gas Raider Larry and I entered. Once inside the door closed. Lights at the top of a long tunnel increased in brightness revealing gigantic pumps lined one next to another disappearing off into the distance.
“The troll’s name is Ronald and he and his friends are already here,” said a small voice from the top of a ladder leaning against the inside of the steel door. “They used you as bait, followed you and knew I’d open the door for you.”
“Well shitttt…the troll said we had some time before they would start to follow us.”
“Hey, it’s ok,” said the small voice at the top of the ladder. “Trolls lie, it’s in their nature.”
“…Shitttt…”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ll just have to make lemonade out of lemons,” said the small man that owned the small voice as he climbed down from the ladder.
“You’re,” I asked, “the metal giant?”
“Yup, that’s me, in person, the metal giant’s puppeteer.”
If Ronald looked like a seven foot cigar smoking troll the man climbing down from the ladder looked like a very old child…the operative word being very old. He was just a few inches more than four feet in height. Once down he walked over and introduced himself.
“Name’s Augustin and we need to start making lemonade before the nice folks outside my steel door realize the door is really a fake. It’s not really made of steel.”
“It looks and sounds,” Larry said, “like a real steel door.”
“Nope, it’s made from a polymer I invented that has the strength of steel, is malleable…but also quite flammable.”
“Augustin Fresnel,” I interrupted before he could finish.
“How did you know my last name?”
“I think we’ve met you before?”
“You must’ve met my twin brother; his name’s Augustin too. We’re often confused for one another. How’s he doing?”
Larry and I proceeded to tell Augustin how we’d met his brother Augustin and what had happened at the holographic city he’d created. We left nothing out and ended our recounting by telling Augustin how his brother Augustin had saved our lives but had sacrificed his own in doing so.
“Well…shitttt…,” said Augustin. “We both got so tied up in our own projects we never got together. I’ll miss him.”
I was still trying to get my mind around how Augustin would miss a brother he never visited; when a series of booming knocks came from the other side of the steel door.
“They’re here.r.rr.r.r.r…,” I said but it didn’t sound funny.
“They’ll be afraid,” said Augustin, “to enter at first. They’ll gather around outside for a few minutes to build up courage then they’ll force their way in. If they figure out they can light the door on fire it will be but a few minutes before they break inside.”
“But you’ve,” Larry asked, “already closed the door.”
“Yes, except for a small one inch crack. I couldn’t close it completely I didn’t have enough time.”
“It’s ok,” Larry continued, “that’ll work in our favor. That one inch crack is how we’ll make lemons into lemonade. We’ll wait until the crowd next to the door is as big as it’s going to get then we’ll set fire to what’s left of the Raider. We’ll not only burn the gas that’s leaked out but what is left in the tank. If we’re lucky the gas in the tank will explode. That’ll slow them down and if it takes out Ronald it’ll probably stop’em…at least for as long as it takes them to eat roasted Ronald and his fricasseed friends.”
Larry then looked at me with a ‘can you conjure look’…
“Don’t ask,” I said, “not even a bicycle, not a…”
“Maybe I can help,” interrupted Augustin. “I’ve never conjured a bicycle but I found an old one at the far end of this tunnel. I use it to ride around inside the dam.”
Larry and I spotted the old balloon tire bicycle in the corner at the same time…dented, rusted but ready to ride.
“Augustin,” I said, “the three of us can all get aboard with Larry on the handlebars, you on the seat and I’ll do the pedaling. We won’t break any speed records but it should get us to other end of the tunnel ahead of the mob.”
“Maybe…maybe not…,” said Augustin as he walked to the crack in the door and lit the largest match I’d ever seen, “but why not be sure?”
“The three,” shouted Larry, “of us can do this…no heroics.”
“Toooooooooo late…,” Augustin yelled as he threw the match through the crack.
At first I thought the match had gone out and then came a fiery woof, followed by large explosion, followed by lots of cursing and screaming…then silence.
Augustin was bleeding from the neck; he’d had been hit by both the fiery woof and the gas tank blast and the steel door a.k.a. polymer door was on fire.
“We gotta,” Larry’s voice sounded loud, he’d already wheeled out the bicycle, “go now!”
“He’s right,” said Augustin from behind us, “you’ve got to go now if you’re to make it out the other end of the tunnel before the flooding.”
Augustin was bleeding from a wound that started at his jaw and ended at his shoulder…it was a fatal wound. He was holding a dead man’s switch with his thumb against it. His thumb was white and pressed tight against the button.
“This burning door is holding them back. You’ve maybe a few minutes to make it down this mile long tunnel before the pumps release the dam’s water and flush out not only the burrows but this tunnel. Go! This switch is the only thing keeping that flooding from happening.”
Balloon tire bikes were not made for speed. Their wide tires limited them. But on the hard packed dirt floor of the tunnel they were in their element. Larry and I made good time.
What I’d suspected I now could confirm. The giant pumps were running. Their low hum was at just the edge of hearing but you could feel their power as you rode past each one. Far behind us there was one last flare of light from the breached door then blackness. I looked ahead. We’d already passed the tunnel’s halfway point and ahead a growing point of light was growing larger.
“They’re in the tunnel,” Larry was telling me what we both knew. “They’ve breached the door, overrun Augustin and are right behind us and gaining.”
“That means Augustin has activated the dead man’s switch to turn off the pumps and release the water.”
And as if on cue the lights and the pumps behind us starting from the steel a.k.a. polymer door began to turn off. Darkness accompanied by silence was following us. Accept the silence was being replaced with the distant but growing closer howling of the mutant mob. The light ahead of us had grown larger becoming an opening out of the tunnel leading to a road climbing into the hills. The howling was gaining.
“I’m pedaling as fast as I can and they’re still gaining.”
“Can you hear that…?
“All I can hear is my out of breath gasps and the crowd that’s growing closer.”
“Can you hear that,” Larry said again, “there’s a roar behind the mob?”
Larry had superior hearing and vision and when he said he could hear a roar behind the mob I believed him…and then I heard it too. And it sounded like the dam had taken a shit and was flushing the waste out this tunnel…and I found I could pedal even faster…and we rode out of the tunnel and into the light of a full moon…and I made a sharp turn to the left and up an embankment…just as the mutants were washed past us…most were already dead.
“No prisoners,” said Larry as he shot two as they tried to gain the high ground. “There’s just a few more and Ronald.”
I emptied my last five 10mm rounds into Ronald’s cigar.
The door swung in about two feet opening into the darkest darkness I’d ever seen. Taking one last look at the riddled with holes and still leaking oil and gas Raider Larry and I entered. Once inside the door closed. Lights at the top of a long tunnel increased in brightness revealing gigantic pumps lined one next to another disappearing off into the distance.
“The troll’s name is Ronald and he and his friends are already here,” said a small voice from the top of a ladder leaning against the inside of the steel door. “They used you as bait, followed you and knew I’d open the door for you.”
“Well shitttt…the troll said we had some time before they would start to follow us.”
“Hey, it’s ok,” said the small voice at the top of the ladder. “Trolls lie, it’s in their nature.”
“…Shitttt…”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ll just have to make lemonade out of lemons,” said the small man that owned the small voice as he climbed down from the ladder.
“You’re,” I asked, “the metal giant?”
“Yup, that’s me, in person, the metal giant’s puppeteer.”
If Ronald looked like a seven foot cigar smoking troll the man climbing down from the ladder looked like a very old child…the operative word being very old. He was just a few inches more than four feet in height. Once down he walked over and introduced himself.
“Name’s Augustin and we need to start making lemonade before the nice folks outside my steel door realize the door is really a fake. It’s not really made of steel.”
“It looks and sounds,” Larry said, “like a real steel door.”
“Nope, it’s made from a polymer I invented that has the strength of steel, is malleable…but also quite flammable.”
“Augustin Fresnel,” I interrupted before he could finish.
“How did you know my last name?”
“I think we’ve met you before?”
“You must’ve met my twin brother; his name’s Augustin too. We’re often confused for one another. How’s he doing?”
Larry and I proceeded to tell Augustin how we’d met his brother Augustin and what had happened at the holographic city he’d created. We left nothing out and ended our recounting by telling Augustin how his brother Augustin had saved our lives but had sacrificed his own in doing so.
“Well…shitttt…,” said Augustin. “We both got so tied up in our own projects we never got together. I’ll miss him.”
I was still trying to get my mind around how Augustin would miss a brother he never visited; when a series of booming knocks came from the other side of the steel door.
“They’re here.r.rr.r.r.r…,” I said but it didn’t sound funny.
“They’ll be afraid,” said Augustin, “to enter at first. They’ll gather around outside for a few minutes to build up courage then they’ll force their way in. If they figure out they can light the door on fire it will be but a few minutes before they break inside.”
“But you’ve,” Larry asked, “already closed the door.”
“Yes, except for a small one inch crack. I couldn’t close it completely I didn’t have enough time.”
“It’s ok,” Larry continued, “that’ll work in our favor. That one inch crack is how we’ll make lemons into lemonade. We’ll wait until the crowd next to the door is as big as it’s going to get then we’ll set fire to what’s left of the Raider. We’ll not only burn the gas that’s leaked out but what is left in the tank. If we’re lucky the gas in the tank will explode. That’ll slow them down and if it takes out Ronald it’ll probably stop’em…at least for as long as it takes them to eat roasted Ronald and his fricasseed friends.”
Larry then looked at me with a ‘can you conjure look’…
“Don’t ask,” I said, “not even a bicycle, not a…”
“Maybe I can help,” interrupted Augustin. “I’ve never conjured a bicycle but I found an old one at the far end of this tunnel. I use it to ride around inside the dam.”
Larry and I spotted the old balloon tire bicycle in the corner at the same time…dented, rusted but ready to ride.
“Augustin,” I said, “the three of us can all get aboard with Larry on the handlebars, you on the seat and I’ll do the pedaling. We won’t break any speed records but it should get us to other end of the tunnel ahead of the mob.”
“Maybe…maybe not…,” said Augustin as he walked to the crack in the door and lit the largest match I’d ever seen, “but why not be sure?”
“The three,” shouted Larry, “of us can do this…no heroics.”
“Toooooooooo late…,” Augustin yelled as he threw the match through the crack.
At first I thought the match had gone out and then came a fiery woof, followed by large explosion, followed by lots of cursing and screaming…then silence.
Augustin was bleeding from the neck; he’d had been hit by both the fiery woof and the gas tank blast and the steel door a.k.a. polymer door was on fire.
“We gotta,” Larry’s voice sounded loud, he’d already wheeled out the bicycle, “go now!”
“He’s right,” said Augustin from behind us, “you’ve got to go now if you’re to make it out the other end of the tunnel before the flooding.”
Augustin was bleeding from a wound that started at his jaw and ended at his shoulder…it was a fatal wound. He was holding a dead man’s switch with his thumb against it. His thumb was white and pressed tight against the button.
“This burning door is holding them back. You’ve maybe a few minutes to make it down this mile long tunnel before the pumps release the dam’s water and flush out not only the burrows but this tunnel. Go! This switch is the only thing keeping that flooding from happening.”
Balloon tire bikes were not made for speed. Their wide tires limited them. But on the hard packed dirt floor of the tunnel they were in their element. Larry and I made good time.
What I’d suspected I now could confirm. The giant pumps were running. Their low hum was at just the edge of hearing but you could feel their power as you rode past each one. Far behind us there was one last flare of light from the breached door then blackness. I looked ahead. We’d already passed the tunnel’s halfway point and ahead a growing point of light was growing larger.
“They’re in the tunnel,” Larry was telling me what we both knew. “They’ve breached the door, overrun Augustin and are right behind us and gaining.”
“That means Augustin has activated the dead man’s switch to turn off the pumps and release the water.”
And as if on cue the lights and the pumps behind us starting from the steel a.k.a. polymer door began to turn off. Darkness accompanied by silence was following us. Accept the silence was being replaced with the distant but growing closer howling of the mutant mob. The light ahead of us had grown larger becoming an opening out of the tunnel leading to a road climbing into the hills. The howling was gaining.
“I’m pedaling as fast as I can and they’re still gaining.”
“Can you hear that…?
“All I can hear is my out of breath gasps and the crowd that’s growing closer.”
“Can you hear that,” Larry said again, “there’s a roar behind the mob?”
Larry had superior hearing and vision and when he said he could hear a roar behind the mob I believed him…and then I heard it too. And it sounded like the dam had taken a shit and was flushing the waste out this tunnel…and I found I could pedal even faster…and we rode out of the tunnel and into the light of a full moon…and I made a sharp turn to the left and up an embankment…just as the mutants were washed past us…most were already dead.
“No prisoners,” said Larry as he shot two as they tried to gain the high ground. “There’s just a few more and Ronald.”
I emptied my last five 10mm rounds into Ronald’s cigar.