Deadman - Book 3 Chapter 60: Dead Presidents

I ran for my motorcycle, pausing only to gently run my hands along Gus’ side before ripping a chunk from him to eat as I ran. He wouldn’t mind, I’d’ve expected him to do the same had I been the one that died. My motorcycle was untouched, sitting under the tarp right where I’d left it. I put in the key and turned it, the engine’s roar as it came to life cut off as I immediately gunned it. I didn’t have my pack, my sword, or anything else, but they also wouldn’t slow me down.

I considered that Mercy may have been lying. That this was yet another part of the myriad traps she’d set for me, but I didn’t think so. I could’ve used my Lie Detector ability, but I didn’t have the presence of mind to use it after I’d been drowned, shot, smashed, and exploded. Still, I believed she was being honest, and even if she wasn’t I didn’t have much of a choice, but to head to Pott’s and do whatever I could to warn them. I’d seen the crater the Remnant’s weapon had created at the bunker, it was the same as the beam that had created the Cut. If they hit Pott’s with it, everyone there would die instantly.

I chewed through the strip of meat I’d torn from Gus, aware in my hindbrain that he was one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted. It made sense, I’d fed him meat from across the wastes, and he lived in a particularly high rad zone. I was grateful to him, not only for the meal he was providing me with, which I sorely needed after the battle, but for saving me from Graves. I’d been blown up, shot, stabbed, and hacked to pieces, but drowning may have worked on me.

I felt a brief sharp pang of loss in my gut as what had happened just hit me like a truck. The length of my drive gave me nothing to do aside from worry, and mourn. I’d lost my home. A lifetime of work on maps, and journals. A library of books I’d collected and bought, some of which I knew would never be replaced. The boat itself, the project of many hard years of hauling materials, repairing it, and making it my own. Gus, a silent companion with whom I’d shared more time than almost anyone or anything else in the wasteland. I’d created a little jewel for myself that was all my own, and it had been taken from me. I shook my head, trying to physically shake the sadness from it, and put my focus back on the road. I had to focus on saving Pott’s. On reaching Deux, Mama, Nix, and everyone else who was simply going through their day, none the wiser that soon their home would be wiped off the face of the earth.

I wove between old hollowed out cars, sped over ruined portions of road, and kept my attention fully on moving forward. Unfortunately, even as I watched everything fly by, I still felt as if I was going too slowly. I was too worried I wouldn’t make it before midnight, when the polls would close and an official president would be decided. I pulled up the R.A.S. and moved over to the voting portion. On it was a breakdown of the vote so far.

Mama: 49.2%

Masters:48.8%

I ignored the remaining names on the list as their proportions were so minor that they didn’t bear mentioning. Mama was in the lead. It looked like between Pott’s, the Horde, and maybe even the disaffected people in STAR territory she had a solid chance of winning. Master’s desperation made sense. I hadn’t met the man many times, but it was clear that he felt the presidency was something owed to him. Leah’s words had confirmed as much, and the lengths he’d been willing to go through to cement himself as the frontrunner showed he’d be willing to pay or sacrifice anything to make it happen. In spite of all that he’d done though, Mama was still in the lead. He’d overplayed his hand too much, been too separate from the wasteland he sought to claim, and now a true local was in the lead.

I twisted my handle, eking out a bit more power from my motor. If things looked too grim he may order his strike even sooner than Leah had told me it would arrive. When I was almost halfway to Pott’s, my engine began to sputter as I ran out of gas. I had a canister strapped to the side, but when I looked at it, I remembered I hadn’t had a chance for a refill. I’d foolishly put off the task for the next day.

As I slowed down, I began to hear other engines approaching, and doing so rapidly. I smelled blood, gunpowder, and tobacco. I smiled, it seemed like I’d have a bit of luck today after all.

The raiders came into view quickly, just as my bike was slowing to a complete crawl. There was a truck that had clearly been stolen from the Iron Horde with a .50 cal in the trunk, and two smaller cars armored heavily and covered in ridiculous medal spikes. The raiders themselves had eyes nearly blood red from redeye use, and their muscles pulsed in the telltale sign of Blitz.

They whooped and hollered as they circled me, slowly closing in until they stopped and got out of their vehicles, approaching me. I let them, noticing that they were too high to think of simply gunning me down with the .50 cal.

One of them approached, closer than the others, wearing heavily dusted goggles and smiling in a way that displayed four well rotted teeth.

“Now what’s a Deadman doing with a bike like th-”

I activated mass freeze and stopped him and the others dead in their tracks. I stepped forward and pulled his pistol from his waist and calmly gunned down each of them with a single bullet to the head. I didn’t have time to enjoy myself. I hopped into the truck, and checked to find that it had a nearly full tank of gas. I got out and hopped into the bed. I tore the .50 cal out of it with a screech of metal and tossed it to the side. I then threw my bike into it, turned the ignition on the truck, and slammed my foot onto the gas, shooting it forward.

I selected the truck because I wanted to be able to take my bike with me, and of the three vehicles I was certain that it had come from the Horde, and recently. That meant it was likely the best maintained of the three of them. I wasn’t as comfortable driving something with four wheels as I was with two, but I made do, I didn’t have time to siphon the gas from it to put into the bike, nor did I have the materials to do so on hand.

I drove, finding myself actually grateful for the truck as I went. It may not have the maneuverability of the bike, but it handled rough terrain well, and I was able to move through deadzones much more quickly than I’d expected. Before long, Pott’s came into view. It was pitch black out, but the city itself was well lit with multicolored lights, and even at the distance I was, the smells of feasting hit my nostrils. They were celebrating the near completion of the election.

I drove straight toward the outer domes, and was met by a sudden powerful blast of Cerberus fire. It shredded through the trucks engine, my right leg, and one of the back tires. I slid to a stop, and kicked open the door, rolling out as I raised up my hands. I was a good distance from the domes, but they must’ve recognized that I was a deadman because the shooting had ceased.

I ran forward toward the dome, ignoring the pain in my leg as it healed. A squad of deadman militia ran out to meet me.

“Donovan!” exclaimed one of them. I recognized him as the man who’d stood at my trial and thanked me for saving him. The one who’d carried the body of his friend back here to Pott’s.

“I need to get to the honored dead. Pott’s needs to evacuate.”

“What!? You’re exiled, you can’t come into the city! I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, not threateningly, just to get his full attention. “Listen to me. The minute the election is over, the Remnants are planning on firing a weapon down on Pott’s that will destroy the entire city.” I pulled up the R.A.S. “We have less than an hour to move thousands of people. GET MOVING!”

He looked at me, and nodded, looking at the other militiamen. “You heard him. Notify the others on patrol and have them move in a pattern inward, letting people know what’s happening. GO, GO, GO!”

I nodded at him. “I’m heading for the Mausoleum.”

He nodded at me. “The Honored Dead are all there celebrating the election results.”

I ran into the city, drawing confused or angry looks from the deadmen and women in the streets as I passed by. I couldn’t blame them. Not only was I an exile. My clothes were in ruins, my mouth stained with blood, and I likely reeked of gasoline.

I reached the Mausoleum and found a large crowd gathered there. I considered pulling my pistol and firing it into the air to get their attention, but I didn’t want to risk a panic and a stampede. Instead I pushed through to the center, and there I saw Mama, wearing a warm yellow robe, and glowing from her victory. When she saw me, her eyes widened, as did Solomon’s as he saw me.

“What are you doing here, Exile!?” He roared with such volume that the party came to a halt immediately around us.

Julian, wearing a white robe and nursing a drink, stepped closer to us, as did Jim and Kit.

I looked at all of them. “The Remnants are planning to destroy Pott’s. They have a weapon, of the same kind that created the Cut. They’re going to fire it the second the election is over, maybe sooner.”

Mama took a moment. Just moment to consider my words. A momentof silence from her and the crowd, as she appraised the state I was in and absorbed everything I’d just said. She looked into my eyes. “Go to Deux. He’s at his station. I think most of the city is tuned in to listen to his commentary. Have him get the word out as soon as possible.” She turned to a nearby undertaker. “The children, get them to safety NOW!”” She turned to Solomon, but he had already moved to a White Robe and started giving orders. She nodded then started going to anyone in authority and giving more commands. Kit yelled to a few clothed in green to go and empty out the food storehouse and Bloodmanes. Julian hollered to a white robe to follow him into his lab to save what data they could.

I didn’t wait around to hear any more, instead making my way toward Deux’s house. I hadn’t been there since the last time I needed to steal coffee back from him. It had an additional dome built on top of the original one, with a ladder leading up to it, and a massive tower of metal on top of that. At the top of all of it flew a Radiation Revolution Radio flag, high and proud. I leapt up the ladder, climbing it two rungs at a time, and threw his door open.

He jumped in his seat, spilling hot coffee on himself as he stood and pulled a pistol on me. “Jesus Donovan, I’m way too high right now for people to sneak up on me.” He shook his head. “Wait, Donovan? What the fuck!? Why are you here?”

“Deux. The Remnants are going to destroy Pott’s when the election is over. Send out a warning, NOW!”

Deux didn’t even hesitate. The smile dropped from his lips for the first time I’d ever seen in a long long time, he quickly and calmly turned off the music, removing a record, and bringing his mouth to the microphone, while flipping a switch. “Everyone, LISTEN UP! The Remnants are planning to fire on Pott’s Field imminently and destroy it. Please evacuate. Don’t grab anything but the people you love. GO!”

He flipped the switch back, and his voice began speaking, giving the same message he just said on repeat. He looked up at me. “Let’s go. We can move house to house to clear people out.” I checked the time, we were down to less than forty five minutes.

We hopped out of Deux’s studio, and both leapt to the ground rather than wasting time with the ladder. We began moving house to house in a simple pattern. Most people we encountered had heard the message from either the broadcast or someone else and were already on their way out. As we moved we slowly became separated from one another. Deux knew a number of people who had difficulty moving who he wanted to prioritize helping, and I used my nose to locate those who seemed isolated or immobile.

I had to resort to threats and screaming a number of times to get people moving. Even literally throwing people from their homes in several cases, but once they were out and saw others moving, they tended to get a move on. All along I was keeping my eyes on the countdown, watching it tick down to less than thirty minutes, then twenty, then fifteen, then ten I took a deep inhale, and could tell that the majority of people had made their way out, but I still smelled Deux. I wasn’t sure how far we’d need to get to avoid the blast, so I ran for him following my nose.

I found him running through an alley near the edge of the north end of the Pott’s. He looked at me, but didn’t stop running.

“Miss Tasha is over this way. She can’t walk. If we reach her, I can carry her out.”

I nodded, falling in line behind him, I could smell the woman, she seemed to be the only one left in the city. We had less than five minutes left.

I felt an odd kind of pressure in the air, and Deux and I stopped in our tracks. There was the scent of Ozone and a slight red tinge to the air around us.

He looked at me and shook his head. “Well. I guess we’re not making it to Tasha.” He smiled, looking at me and throwing up devil horns with his hand. “I love you Donny, rock on for me.”

I leapt at him desperately, trying to cover him with my body, then we were struck by the hammer of god.