Take the All-Mart!

CHAPTER 15: STRATEGY





“Origin.” Bob’s chin rested on the back of the Wound’s front seat as he stared out the windshield between Trip and Rudy. His voice was breathless with longing. “Isn’t it... wonderful?”

Bernice answered his question by shoving the stun baton into his side and chuckling as he convulsed back.

“For a shantytown, yeah, I guess.” Trip lit a cigarette and shrugged.

The Wound idled at the edge of a five mile-wide stretch of barren concrete, at the center of which hulked the massive city of Origin. A mile wide, it was a maze of hovels with walls made out of repurposed shelving racks covered with a mishmash of clothing remnants.

“Looks like a fortress designed by Giger and filmed by David Lynch.” Rudy lit his calabash. “You sure she’s in there?” he asked Trip.

“Nope.” Trip glanced into the rear-view. “Bernice, how’s your confidence level? Roxanne in there somewhere?”

She shrugged at him. “How should I know?”

“Woman’s intuition, maybe?”

“It’s on the fritz.”

Trip jogged his head out at Origin. “But that is in the direction they took Roxanne?”

“Maybe,” Bernice said. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Leave her alone, dude,” Rudy said.

Trip grunted. “Bob? Any thoughts?”

“If they took her to the Voice, the Voice is there.”

Trip tapped ashes out his window. “Where’s ‘there’? I mean, specifically?”

“The Hub.”

Rudy pointed with his pipe out at the city and a quarter-mile thick tree-like structure at its center, branches rising to the ceiling and intertwined with it. “That central tower?”

“Yes,” Bob said. “It is the heart of the All-Mart.”

“How’re the defenses?”

Bob leaned forward, keeping a wary eye on Bernice. “I’ve never been inside, but any that live within Origin would gladly give their life to protect it.”

“Of course they would,” Rudy said.

“Which brings us to the second item on the agenda.” Trip flicked his cigarette out through the window and reached under his seat. “Strategy time.” He came back up with a battered Monopoly box in his hand. Rudy scooted up against the passenger side door to make room as Trip opened the box and laid out the board between them on the seat. The two halves of the board were held together with duct tape.

The game pieces and faded paper money were all lumped together loose in the box. Trip picked the Cannon out and placed it on Go. “This is us.” He scooped up a handful of houses and hotels and scattered them randomly across the board. “This is everybody else. Except Roxanne.” He picked out the Shoe, put it in the center of the board. “This is Roxanne. We go in guns blazing, shoot everything that isn’t Roxanne. Strategy achieved.”

Pipe clenched thoughtfully in the side of his mouth, Rudy examined the board. “Could use some slight refinement.”

“Okay...” Trip said, whisking the Shoe from the board, “instead of this shoe, Roxanne is now...” He scanned the box until he found the little Scott dog, picking it out from under a hotel and plopping it onto the board. “This Terrier. Done and done.”

Rudy nodded, pursed his lips. “You don’t think maybe — just maybe — a full-frontal shoot’em-up might be a bad move here?”

Trip’s left eyebrow went up. “When is a full-frontal shoot’em-up ever a bad idea?”

“Since about always. Especially now — we don’t know the size and capability of the opposing force. All we do know is, it took how many shots to put down Bob? And it didn’t even kill him.” Rudy glanced back at Bob. “No offense.”

Bob shrugged. “None taken.”

Trip huffed. “We took down plenty of zombies easy with the Wound back there.”

“Sure... Shoppers,” Bob said.

“You have something to add, Bob?” Trip asked.

“Shoppers aren’t as resilient as Associates. They don’t regenerate as fast as we do.”

“It’s mostly gonna be associates in Origin, right?” Rudy asked.

Bob nodded. “Shoppers aren’t allowed. Just the luckiest Associates and Security.”

“The big brutes?” Bernice asked, her voice wavering as she looked at Rudy.

“They’re big,” Bob said, “but they’re not brutes. But they are much tougher than Associates. I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side, especially the one I’m married to.”

Rudy gave Bernice a nod and turned to Trip. “Given all that... maybe we want to just take a slightly less blow-everything-to-hell approach here.”

Trip scowled. “You mean just drive up to the front gate and knock, ask if Roxanne can come out and play?”

“Yeah, why not? It worked for Dorothy.” Rudy put his calabash in the ashtray. “Think about it. We’ve been in here half a day now. Haven’t seen one security guard. Nobody’s been chasing us. Nobody’s tried to intercept us. If they were gonna turn us into zombies, you think they would have made the effort by now.”

Trip shrugged. “Maybe they’re just luring us into a false sense of security.”

“Why would they do that?” Bernice asked.

Trip smirked at her through the rear-view. “It’s funnier that way?”

“We haven’t been attacked,” Rudy said.

Trip sat back. “Trust me, once we start shooting, we’ll be attacked.”

“All I’m asking is, no guns,” Rudy said. “Unless they shoot at us first. Okay? I feel bad enough about having to shoot Granny already.”

Trip sighed. “You’re still worried about karma, aren’t you?”

“We’re — you’re — building up quite a heavy karmic debt-load.”

“Thought you wanted to be around when the universe sent me my bill?”

“Priorities change.” Rudy glanced briefly into the back seat at Bernice before looking at Trip. “Just, no guns, okay?”

“You’ll see... they’ll attack us.” Trip reached for the Monopoly board. He folded it up — counters, houses, hotels and all — and shoved it back into the box. “But if it’ll shut you up for a few precious moments, the strategy is hereby amended. No guns.”

“But you’re still gonna insist on charging straight into the place, aren’t you?” Rudy asked.

Trip slipped the box back under his seat. “I’m not big on knocking at doors. My knuckles get scuffed.”

Rudy shrugged with his eyebrows. “Okay, fine, but if that’s the way we’re gonna do this, can I at least get out and check some stuff first?”

“Vishnu’s summer house,” Trip said. “We come all this way to kick ass and chew gum, and right when we’re about to run out of gum, you want to buy a new pack?”

“Wound’s taken some hits the last couple days. Not to mention doled out a few.”

“She can take it.”

“Sure, but the whole granny zombie’s elbow thing has me spooked. What if there’s another weak point?”

Trip fingered the patch cord connecting him to the car. “The Wound’s telling me she’s fine.”

“I dunno.” Rudy put his hand palm down on the seat between them. “I’ve been feeling a weird vibration through the seat the last ten miles. Felt like the rear left wheel — like a shopper got caught in the axle or something, rattled around, did some damage.”

Trip scowled and blew smoke out the window. “It’s fine.”

“Right,” Rudy said. “How’s your leg feeling?”

Trip’s head snapped around in surprise. “It’s fine,” he said, knocking on his right knee. “Never better.”

“Your left leg.” Rudy pointed with his chin. “Any soreness in the ankle, perchance?”

Trip’s head canted to one side. “Now that you mention it... It’s nothing. I twisted it when we pinned those zombies chasing Bernice.”

Rudy smiled, crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s feedback through the man-machine interface is what it is.”

Trip growled. “I know haptic feedback when I feel it. This isn’t. The Wound’s peachy.”

“Any other aches and pains? Like in your chest — “ Rudy thumbed towards the front of the Wound “ — or your right side, ‘round your pelvis? You know, where the Wound dinged herself up good?”

Trip’s hand unconsciously pressed against his chest. “I live a pretty rough and tumble life.”

“Dude...”

“Fine,” Trip said. “How long?”

“Five minutes.” Rudy reached between his legs and grabbed his toolbox from under the seat. “Just to check some stuff, make sure she’s in fighting shape.”

“Make it three. They’re gonna notice we’re here sooner or later.” Trip watched Rudy get out of the car, then smirked back at Bob. “Okay, Bob, you too.”

“What?”

“Out.”

“Why?” Bob asked. “I don’t know anything about cars.”

“Too bad, ‘cause then there might be a reason to keep you around.”

Bob nodded. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Go on.” Trip gestured out the open passenger door with his cigarette. “You can walk the rest of the way.”

“But —”

Trip un-holstered his elephant revolver. He popped the revolver’s chamber open, extracting the spent casings with his thumb and fingertip. He let them drop to the floorboard. “You’re lucky I’m not asking you to pitch in for gas.”

Bob pushed the passenger seat up with his chest, hesitantly slipped one leg out of the car. “Aren’t you gonna untie me, at least?”

“What am I, your mother?” Trip fished around in an inside-tux pocket until he found the special .85 caliber bullet he was feeling for, the ceramic one with the blinking tip. He slipped the fancy bullet into the pistol and closed the chamber. “Look, the last thing we need is you reverting into a zombie at the most clichéd second possible ‘cause we forgot to zap you in all the excitement. Scoot.” He twisted around, pointed the revolver at Bob’s nose. “Now.”

Bob grunted, and got out of the car. Getting out from under the Wound, Rudy stood and watched the zombie walking off and mumbling to himself, then got back into the car.

“How’s it looking?” Trip asked.

“Good thing I checked — had to shore up a tie rod. If that had snapped while we were at speed, goodbye Wound.” Rudy noticed Trip’s revolver was out. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about no guns?”

Trip grinned, pointed the revolver out the window and up at the ceiling.

He fired, straight up, then pulled the pistol back in.

Bernice clapped her hands over her ears. “What was that all about?”

Trip holstered the revolver. “It’s for later.”

Rudy gave a slight nod, looked past Trip at Origin city. He frowned. “Assuming there is a later.”

“You’re such a pessimist.”

“I am what a lifetime of your company has made me.” Rudy turned back to check on Bernice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, nodding like she almost believed it.

“I can spit you up some custom mix.” Rudy tweaked his nipple. “Keep you calm but alert.”

“I’m good.”

“Seriously, it’ll be fine. We do this kind of thing all the time. And we haven’t died yet.” Rudy undid the buckle on his spiked helmet and took it off, handed it to her over the seat. “Just in case.”

She took it and strapped it on, thanking him with a smile that made him melt.

Rudy blushed, fluffed out his squashed fez. He settled it onto his head and turned to Trip. “Well, what you waiting for? Let’s get this over with.”

Trip stared out over the steering wheel, unblinking, his mouth screwed up in a half-smirk. He raised a hand, one finger up. “Shush.”

“What?” Rudy asked.

“Oh... nothing.” Trip pointed the finger at the dashboard GameGear display. “Just, we’ve got company.”

Rudy stared at the display. A little rectangle representing the Wound was being surrounded by dozens of blue dots in a slowly tightening ring.

In the back seat, Bernice gasped. Rudy looked out the open driver’s side window past Trip while reaching blindly for the shotgun on the dash.

The Security zombies were huge, imposing. Eight foot tall, their hardened skin glistening in the fluorescent ceiling light. They weren’t carrying weapons, but it didn’t look like they needed to. Their hands were giant, rough things, like boulders made of blue-green flesh. And there were dozens of them, and more coming up behind them. “Where the Shatner did they all come from?” Rudy asked.

Trip shook his head. “They just popped up on the sensor out of nowhere. — Grab something, we’ll drive our way out of this,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Or at least take a few of ‘em out, trying.”

“Yeah, that won’t be necessary, Trip.”

It was a woman’s voice.

Roxanne’s voice.

Coming out of the gnarled lips of the Security zombie gliding up to the driver’s window.

The zombie bent low to look into the Wound. “They’re just here to escort you,” Roxanne’s voice continued. “We don’t need a repeat of the Woman’s Casual Wear fiasco, do we?”