Legend of Mace (22 page)

Stitch nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Make sure it remains clear out here. Get to the roof and take out the rocket launcher.”

Stitch quickly pulled a vial out of his pocket and dumped a small amount of powder in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep whiff. His eyes watered for a second as the drugs burned through his nasal passages. He needed to be sharp if he was going to avoid any traps.

“Give me some,” Razor said. Stitch tossed him the vial.

The ground-floor window right by the second crater was blown out, so Stitch moved carefully up and through it. The hotel was dark inside, and his mind instantly threatened to derail him as the infection and effects of the drugs created weird illusions all around.

After a few seconds his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Keeping his eyes trained on the floor, he slowly shuffled forward. He suddenly heard steps run across the floor above. He paused as sweat oozed down his large, wiry frame, and he watched imaginary specters float across the ceiling. He shook his head to clear them, then scanned the lobby as best he could. He barely made out the sign ahead. It was an arrow. The stairs were to the right.

“Rooms 213 and 245 are clear. If you see him, shoot the fucker,” Bowie said, feeling completely alive. He was a warrior. He embraced this life.

“Where are you going to be?”

“Right here for now,” Bowie said, nodding his head at the room door in front of him. “I’m going to keep track on these two sides.” He pointed behind him towards the right side of the hotel.

Entering room 213, Roger still moved carefully, afraid of an unreported bomb. Staring out the glassless window, he picked up the radio. “Jade, any other sign of the bikers?”

Jade immediately lifted the radio off her belt. “I’m on the ground,” she whispered. “Headed your way. Don’t shoot me. If I see anything, I’ll radio it in.”

“We’re covering the second floor,” answered Roger. “So far, no sign.”

“Okay, let’s keep radio silence for now,” Jade whispered again. “I don’t want it giving me away.”

Creeping up the stairs, Stitch paused as a step creaked. Oily sweat continued to ooze from his pores, streaking dirt down his face. He pulled a small plastic pill bottle out of his inside vest pocket and popped the lid. He fished out two pills and swallowed them dry. He loved mixing the pharmaceutical grade speed with their homemade shit. It added a smoothness to the rough ride. It was getting a whole lot harder to find the good shit anymore.

Continuing slowly up the stairs, Stitch pulled his Colt .45 with ornate 24k gold slide. It was his favorite pistol.

Scanning the area outside his window, Bowie saw no movement or activity. After making sure his assessment was correct, he gave an all-clear over the radio and took off for the room on the other side of the hotel.

As he turned the corner, Stitch appeared up ahead out of the stairwell door, aiming the pistol directly at his chest. Bowie stopped and his breath briefly caught in his throat. The guy looked crazy. The thick beard and long, greasy hair gave him a ferocious appearance.

Staring at the ornate weapon, Bowie said sarcastically, “That’s an awfully fancy gun.” Pulling out his large hunting knife, Bowie’s heart pounded against his chest as he waved it at Stitch. “You don’t look man enough to take me by hand,” he taunted. “Good thing,” Bowie continued, “because I’d carve you up good, sissy boy.”

Watching him in amusement, Stitch lowered his gun and placed it on the floor. Shaking his head, he moved slowly towards Bowie, pulling out his straight-razor and letting it dangle by his side. “You got more balls than brains, kid,” Stitch said as he approached. “I’m gonna shove that knife right up your ass.”

Bowie’s body tingled with anticipation. He believed he could take him. Believing he was invincible, he’d use his small size and quickness to his advantage. “The bigger you are, the harder you’ll fall, asshole,” Bowie stated boldly.

The bravado enraged Stitch. “Last mistake you’ll ever make, you little fuck.” Stitch suddenly charged. He took up most of the hallway with his size. The blade hung open by his side.

As Stitch barreled towards him, Bowie sprinted forward as well, his primal scream filling the hallway. As soon as they were about to make contact, Bowie slid on his butt and slashed Stitch across the left calf as he slid between his legs.

“You little motherfucker!” Stitch yelled as he spun around quickly, slicing the blade down. The knife cut deep into Bowie's cheek and sliced up his face to the top of his forehead. It missed slashing through his eyeball by an inch as Bowie turned his head away from the blade. Blood seeped down Stitch’s calf as Bowie scrambled to get back to his feet, pressing his hand against the gash. Blood flowed through his fingers. The cut was deep and the skin flapped open.

Hearing the commotion somewhere on their floor, Roger and Tom both immediately rushed out of their rooms into the hallway. Traveling down different corridors, it was hard to gauge where everything was taking place.

Stitch charged again, but Bowie could barely see from the amount of blood flowing from the cut into his eyes. He took off towards the stairs as panic filled him. Keeping his hand clamped against his face, he felt like throwing up. He'd screwed up big time.

Roger turned the corner just in time to see Bowie disappear in the stairwell followed closely by the big, crazy-looking biker. Climbing up the stairs quickly, Bowie scrambled to keep ahead of Stitch. 
The calf wound slowed Stitch down just enough to allow Bowie to stay ahead, but as anger surged through him, Stitch gained ground. “I’m going to fuck you to death!” Stitch yelled crazily as he reached for him.

Blood flowed from the wound and Bowie struggled to keep his hand pressed against it. Stitch momentarily slipped on the stairs as his foot came into contact with the slick plasma that leaked all over the steps.

Bowie reached the fourth floor landing as Stitch caught up again, slashing at his back with the blade. Bowie
 dove for the paper bag that housed the bomb as the blade sliced deep into flesh.

Bowie cried out as he yanked on the IED and the tripwire tore loose. The pipe bomb instantly exploded, blasting outwards. The building shook from the detonation as Bowie and Stitch instantly disintegrated in the blast.

Roger was almost to the stairs when the explosion went off. He turned his head as plaster and concrete blew out the doorway of the stairwell.

Tom stopped, trying to keep balanced as plaster fell from above his head. A second later another explosion ripped through the hotel, followed by another, as the exploding bombs created a chain-reaction. The hotel was going to fall.

Roger burst through the door of the closest room and raced towards the window as more plaster fell from the ceiling and walls. Another blast rocked the hotel as he missed stepping on a mine by inches. He reached the window and jumped. He fell swiftly towards the ground, fifteen feet down. He braced himself for impact as the ground quickly rushed up. Landing on soft dirt, he bent his knees at first impact then extended them as soon as he hit the ground, rolling onto his side. The Walkie-Talkie smashed as he hit the ground and he winced as it dug into his hip. 

Looking up at the hotel from the ground, his first thought was for Tom and Bowie. Another explosion blew out the wall of the room he’d just jumped from. He rolled away as a huge piece of concrete landed inches away from his head.

Scrambling to his feet, he tried to assess his injuries as he moved swiftly away from the hotel. He didn’t think anything was broken.  “Tom!” he yelled out as the building started to pancake.

Rocked by the explosion, Tom fell to his knees as he tried to navigate quickly through the corridor. Struggling to get back to room 245, he didn’t want to risk entering a room wired with explosives.  The floor beneath him began to give way and he tried to outrun it to no avail. He felt himself falling as the hotel shifted and the floors started toppling down on top of each other.

Free-falling, the world seemed to spin in circles as dust shot up from underneath him and covered him in its thick, suffocating blanket. He felt completely disoriented as he fell on something slanted and rolled continuously until he slammed against a large object. It was the hotel lobby desk. Having no idea which direction was up, he remained still as everything crashed around him. More explosions from upper floors shot debris outside in a wide arc.

Tom couldn’t breathe from all the dust that filled his lungs. As more wood, metal and concrete came crashing down, a small pocket developed around him. The thick lobby desk served as a buffer, saving his life for the moment.

As Jade ran guardedly towards the hotel, she jumped as the first explosion went off. Subsequent eruptions caused her jaw to drop as she witnessed the hotel start to crumble. Not knowing what else to do, she stood dumbfounded as a tidal wave of dust and debris flew rapidly towards her. All she could think of were the men inside as she dove for the ground and tried to cover herself up. Everything turned black and the dust cloud roared over and past her. Closing her eyes, she waited for the force of the dust to settle down.

Inside the camp, everyone was stunned as they watched or heard the hotel explosions. The ground shook under them as the building gave way and pancaked to the earth. Woody was on the radio immediately, continuously trying to reach Roger or Tom. Not expecting a response, he was completely surprised when Tom’s voice squawked over the Walkie-Talkie. “I’m buried somewhere in the rubble. I can’t tell how hurt I am.” In shock, he hadn’t yet felt the half- inch steel rod jammed through his side.

The radio crackled and Jade answered right back. “I’m almost there, Tom. I’ll find you. What happened to Roger and Bowie?”

There was a long pause. “I just don’t know,” Tom said quietly.

Dawson’s wrists were bound tightly together in front of her. “Not so tight!” she complained as Mace finished the task. Standing directly in front of her, Mace got right in her face. “I should slit your throat right now. Shut your trap and do what you’re told.” He assumed she was the big biker’s girl and might prove useful if things got squirrelly. He also needed information and had the feeling she was a big talker.

“Start walking,” he growled.“I’m going to stay right behind you.” His eyes appeared ice-cold as she watched him. He didn’t like the look on her face. “You make any type of stupid move and I won’t hesitate to gut you, understand?”

As tough as Dawson was, the fight momentarily left her. She felt exhausted and weak. “I’m not gonna do anything,” she said in compliance. “Just don’t make me walk. Please. I could just ride behind you. I won’t do anything stupid.”

Mace glared at her. “You tried to kill me twice. Why should I trust you?”

“Hey man, you win. You killed my friends, shot off my tit, and it really fucking hurts!”

She thought seduction might soften him up. “I’ll do anything you want,” she said. “I could make you feel really good.” She gave him a seductive look and lightly licked her lips.“When was the last time you had your cock worshiped?”

The thought of sex instantly sent tingles through Mace. Despite his condition, he’d never thought of straying. He’d only come across a handful of women over the years, anyway. Despite her unfortunate boob accident, drug use, and nomadic lifestyle, out here Dawson was still an apocalyptic babe.

“Trust me,” he said, “You don’t want to go there.” He thought about how rough he could get with Jade. With someone new, he’d probably destroy them. He felt sick and turned on at the same time. It made him angry, close to furious. "Tempt me again and I swear you’ll regret it,” he growled.

“I won’t. I promise,” Dawson said as she stared at the look on his face. A moment later she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So, if you’re not into pussy, that mean you're into dudes?"

Mace lifted up one of the Harleys and climbed aboard, firing it up and ignoring her. “Get on behind me,” he said, “and pray you don’t fall off.”

“Honey,” she replied as she climbed on behind him, “I ride dicks for a living. One thing I can do is keep my balance with something wedged between my legs.”

Mace felt a rush of sexual excitement and wanted to shut her up before he lost control. He jolted the bike forward, expecting her to fall off, but her words held true. Her thighs gripped the seat like a pro.

Halfway towards camp the explosions started at the hotel. Mace squealed the bike to a stop when the building started to crumble. “Holy shit,” he said, staring at it in shock.

“Maybe you lost some friends, too?” Dawson whispered seductively in his ear. “All this death just makes me want to fuck.” She continued to play the only card she knew despite the warning.

A slew of emotions overtook Mace and his head spun with thoughts of lust and violence. He could feel her one breast rubbing against his back. She was almost fully naked, and the dirt that covered her body stimulated his senses. He knew what needed to be done.

He rolled the throttle hard on the Harley and the front wheel briefly left the ground as the bike shot forward. Dawson immediately tumbled off the rear of the bike, smacking her head solidly against the ground. Mace stopped the bike and looked back.

Dawson twisted around as she tried to recover from the impact. She let out a low moan.

“I told you not to tempt me,” Mace said angrily from the bike. “I am an honorable man.” As soon as the words left his lips, they felt like a lie. The rage burned inside.

“Honorable man?” Dawson chuckled through gritted teeth. She bit her lip to keep from showing him pain. “You’re a fucking psycho killer.” Looking up at him, her eyes appeared cold but playful. “I know you want to fuck me or it wouldn’t bother you so much.”

“What I want and what I’m willing to do are two completely different things.” Mace said gruffly, his features unreadable. “And it looks like you’ve now got a long fucking walk ahead of you.”