Highway To Armageddon

353 Pages·2014·1.07 MB·English

by  Bloemer Harold

HIGHWAY TO
ARMAGEDDON
By: Harold Bloemer

HIGHWAY TO ARMAGEDDON©2014 by Harold Bloemer. All rights reserved. No parts of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, without written permission from Highway To
Armageddon Entertainment, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and
reviews.

First Edition
First Printing 2014

SUMMARY: Young bounty hunters hunt down the world’s most wanted terrorist in order to avert a
nuclear war.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

WARNING: THIS NOVEL CONTAINS CONTENT THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL
AUDIENCES. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED
Chapter One: Lance

Cincinnati, 2150

“Lance, what the hell are you doing?”
I glance at Krystal. She has her hands on her pudgy hips and impatiently
taps her right foot. I can’t help but notice all the bullet holes running up and
down her Kevlar vest.
“What do you mean what am I doing?”
Krystal narrows her beady brown eyes. “Don’t do that, acting like I’m
stupid. You were staring off into space.”
Yeah, I tend to do that a lot. When you’re in Hell, it helps to day-dream.
“We got a mission to do. You do want to pay for this month’s rent,
right?”
“No, I want my cousins to get evicted from the Sanctuary so they can be
raped and killed by bandits.”
Krystal punches my shoulder. “Don’t get smart with me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. I learned long ago it was better to apologize to Krystal
than start up an argument. I’ve seen her kill a man with her bare, manicured
hands. She isn’t someone to mess with.
Krystal whips out her sunglasses and presses a button on the side. A few
people in the bread line give us funny looks. I can’t blame them. It’s cloudy and
drizzling. They’re probably wondering why we’re wearing sunglasses. They’re
also probably wondering why we’re armed with guns, tasers, knives, tear gas
canisters, handcuffs, and grenades. We have so many weapons hanging from our
belts and strapped to our backs that we sag under the weight.
Krystal spends several minutes scanning the faces of all the people in
line. It’s a time-consuming task. This is one of the busiest bread lines in
Cincinnati. 30,000 people come here everyday.
Krystal sighs. “I don’t see him. Are you sure he’s here?”
“Why are you asking me? You’re the one who dangled his mother from a
bridge and threatened to drop her unless she gave him up.”
Krystal sticks out her bottom lip. “Don’t act all high and mighty. If it
wasn’t for me doing all the dirty work, we’d never catch any of these thugs.”
Krystal turns back to the line, which snakes around the block and goes on
for miles. “The crazy old broad must’ve lied to us. She said he came here every
evening at 5:00. I knew I should’ve dropped her.”
I nudge Krystal in her side. “You see that old woman over on the left?”
“Yeah, why?”
I nudge her again. “Don’t stare. I think that’s him.”
Krystal nods. When you’ve worked together as long as Krystal and I
have, you pretty much have a psychic bond. We bicker a lot, but when it comes
time to catch a crook, we don’t have to say a word.
Krystal and I slowly make our way toward the ‘old woman’, who has just
left the line with half a loaf of moldy-looking bread. The ‘woman’ has her back
turned to us, but she must sense we’re coming because she suddenly takes off at
a full sprint.
“Ah hell, I do not feel like running today,” Krystal groans as we take off
after our target.
The ‘old woman’ tears off her robe and wig, revealing a grungy man
underneath. The man turns around for the briefest of moments. I’m ready. As
soon as I catch a glimpse of his face, my sunglasses project a transparent image
in front of my eyeballs. A picture of Theodore Maxwell materializes, and a
computerized voice inside my head says, “Perfect Match. Theodore Maxwell,
age 47, five-foot eleven-inches and 155 pounds. Wanted for the attempted
assassination of Cincinnati Mayor Johnny Jackson. Bounty is currently
$100,000. Proceed with caution.”
“It’s definitely him,” I shout over my shoulder.
“Well shoot his ass!” Krystal shouts.
“No!” I shout back. “If we kill him we only get half the bounty!”
Theodore spins around and fires off several shots. Krystal and I duck for
cover as bullets whiz past our heads. People on the street scatter like
cockroaches exposed to daylight.
I pull out my gun. “Maybe shooting him isn’t such a bad idea.”
We take off after Max, who has just entered a crowded marketplace.
Krystal and I try not to knock people over, but at times we can’t help it. I feel
horrible about knocking over an elderly woman, and I’m sure Krystal feels bad
about knocking a little kid into a puddle. At least, I hope she does.
We’re starting to gain on Maxwell, and he knows it. Out of desperation
he knocks over food carts. Apples and oranges roll toward us, causing us to
stumble. I glance back to find Krystal chomping on one of the apples.
A man shouts, “Hey, that’s $5.00!”
“$5.00?” Krystal cries, still chomping away. “That’s highway robbery!”
We finally exit the marketplace and enter a dark alley. I hear Maxwell’s
feet pounding the pavement, but I can’t see him. Krystal grabs the back of my
shirt and yanks me backwards.
“What are you doing?” I snap. “We’re going to lose him!”
Gasping for air, Krystal says, “That alley is a dead end, fool. We’re
running into a trap.”
I click a button on my sunglasses, and a map of the area pops in front of
me. I press the button a few more times, narrowing the search parameters until
the map shows me the alley. Krystal’s right, the alley is a dead end.
“Damn,” I mutter. “What should we do?”
I notice several dirty children huddled in front of an abandoned building.
Krystal must see them, too, because she puts her hand into her pocket and pulls
out several gold coins. Still looking at me, she flips the coins over to the
orphans, who squeal with joy. I can’t help but crack a grin. Krystal likes to act
like a badass, but deep down inside she has a huge heart.
“There went the rest of my money,” she says with a sigh. “Now we have
no choice but to go after the asshole.”
Krystal and I activate the night-vision function on our goggles. It’s still
daylight out, but the alley is so dark it would make a blind person feel right at
home.
We cautiously enter the alley with our guns drawn. I scan the left side
and Krystal scans the right. The alley is narrow, but we still manage to walk
side-by-side.
I eventually come across a wooden door that’s propped open just a crack.
I tap Krystal on her shoulder and point. She nods and mouths, “Do it.”
I unhook a flash bomb from my belt, kick open the door, and throw it
inside. A split-second light, a blinding flash of light illuminates the entire alley.
Krystal follows up by tossing in a smoke bomb. We both jump back and wait for
our prey. I’m shocked when four young children stumble out, coughing and
gagging. The kids are soon followed by Maxwell.
Krystal shoves the kids out of the way, grabs Maxwell by his long, dirty
hair, and bangs him against the wall.
“You’re under arrest, sucker! You have the right to get your ass kicked if
you so much as make a peep!”
Krystal seriously watches too much 21st century television. Apparently
back in the day you were supposed to recite something called “The Miranda” to
criminals when you arrested them. Nowadays criminals were lucky they weren’t
shot in the head.
Max tries to brush Krystal’s hands away. Krystal knees him in the
stomach.
“Don’t touch me, fool! I don’t want your cooties!”
Krystal bangs Max against the wall again… and again… and again. She
finally stops when I touch her arm. “Let’s try to apprehend him alive, okay?”
Krystal snarls. “You always gotta take the fun out of this, don’t you?”
Max stammers, “Please… I… I’ve done nothing wrong! Let me go!”
Krystal bangs Max’s head against the wall a fifth time. “Shut up! We
know you tried to kill Mayor Jackson! Now I can’t really blame you. The guy’s
an idiot. But we can’t be having unhappy voters whacking their elected officials
all the time, can we?”
I just realize the four kids who stumbled out with Max are standing
uncomfortably close to us. They have their arms crossed, and their eyes are
narrowed into hateful slits.
“Um, Krystal?”
Krystal bangs Max up against the wall a sixth time. “Now we know you
didn’t act alone. You’re too damn stupid to pull off an assassination attempt. I
can tell just by looking at you. Who are you working for? Are you in cahoots
with that slimeball Caesar Dominguez?”
“No, I… I didn’t do anything!”
Krystal slams him a seventh time. “Don’t lie to me!”
I glance around and notice the four kids have inched even closer. And
they’re not alone. Another six scraggy looking kids enter the alley. They’re
holding bats and metal pipes. I recognize two of the kids immediately. They’re
the ones we gave money to.
“Um, Krystal?”
Krystal slams Max an eighth time. “You are with Caesar, aren’t you?
He’s behind all these political assassinations, isn’t he?”
“No!” Max sputters. “I… I work alone!”
Krystal slams Max a ninth time. “A-ha! You just admitted you were
behind the assassination attempt!”
I ignore the kids for a second and quietly admire Krystal’s brilliant
interrogation tactics. She can get anyone to admit to anything.
“No, I didn’t mean… I….”
Krystal slams him against the wall a tenth time. “What did I say about
lying?”
I glance around again and feel my face turn white. The kids in the alley
have doubled in numbers. And they’re inching closer with each passing second.
I hear quiet mumbling and look up. Dozens of other scraggy looking
kids line the rooftops towering over the alley. But these kids aren’t armed with
bats and pipes. They’re holding stun guns, swords, and rifles.
I grab Krystal’s shoulder and shout, “Hey!”
Krystal shrugs out of my grasp and slams Max up against the wall an
eleventh time. “Quit bothering me, Lance. I got this scumbag right where I want
him.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
Krystal turns around and narrows her beady little eyes. “What do you
mean?”
I gesture to the dozens of heavily-armed orphans surrounding us on all
sides.
“I think Max has us right where he wants us.”
Krystal’s dark face turns almost as white as mine.
“What the…?”
The kids down in the alley continue closing in on us. The ones up on the
rooftops keep their weapons aimed at our heads.
We turn to find Max grinning like a sadistic madman. His teeth are
yellow and crooked and have food chunks stuck in them.
“We’ve been waiting for you two. You’ve been a thorn in Mr.
Dominguez’s side for quite some time now.”
Struggling to remain calm, I say, “So this was a trap?”
Max continues smiling. “But of course. I knew you would come after me.
Did you really think my apprehension would be so easy?”
“Is this because we captured Caesar’s son and nephew?” Krystal asks.
“Because it’s not personal, it’s just business.”
“I don’t think that excuse works with mobsters,” I whisper.
Rubbing the back of his bruised head, Max says, “You have two options.
Commit suicide now, or suffer a slow, torturous death.”
Krystal suddenly bursts out laughing. I always knew she was mentally
unstable.
Max scowls and brushes Krystal’s meaty hands off his tattered shirt.
“Why are you snickering? You should be trembling in fear.”
Still chuckling, Krystal says, “You think Lance and I are scared of a
couple scrawny orphans? I’ll blow all their heads off with…”
Krystal stops in mid-sentence. Her face once again turns white. I look
down at her right hand, which is patting her leg. Her utility belt is gone. I reach
for my gun and feel nothing.
“Looking for this?” asks one of the orphans. He holds up my utility belt.
My weapons dangle in the air.
“You little son of a…”
Krystal lunges for the orphan, which turns out to be a horrible mistake.
The orphans pounce on us like a pack of lions on a couple of injured zebras.
Sharp pain shoots across my face and stars flutter across my eyes. I fall to the
ground as dozens of bats and metal pipes pound me like a steak being
tenderized. More stabbing pain explodes throughout the rest of my body. I barely
hear Krystal’s screams over the shouts of the orphans. Then everything goes
black.
Chapter Two: Boom-Boom

I smell the pervert before I hear him.
“Hello pretty lady, how much?”
I lift my goggles and glance out my car window. A dirty old man with
long, greasy hair leans against my door, staring directly at my breasts. My boobs
are covered in bullet-proof armor, but that doesn’t stop him from breathing
heavy. He smells like a mixture of whiskey, vomit, and crap. Still, he smells a lot
better than the last three guys who hit on me.
“Sorry dude, but I’m not a hooker. Now get off my car before I sever
your wrist.”
I whip out my knife and hold it over the pervert’s hand, like the dangling
dagger of Damocles. The pervert backs away, allowing me to roll up my
window. I proceed to lower my goggles back over my eyes. My vision is now
tinted green. I press a button on the side of the goggles. A quasi-transparent
screen pops up, followed by a bird’s-eye view of Lance and Krystal patrolling
the busiest breadline in Cincinnati.
The robotic mosquito we bought a few weeks ago is definitely worth the
money we spent on it. It allows me to search our target from the safety of my car
while Lance and Krystal do all the dirty work. Since I’m not in harm’s way I can
remain calm and collected, allowing me to give a more analytical, reasoned
assessment of any given situation. Of course, most of the time my hot-headed
partners ignore my advice and I have to swoop in at the last minute to save their
hides. Sometimes it sucks being the brains of an operation.
I tilt my head. The mosquito follows my movement and flies directly
over the breadline, scanning faces for Maxwell’s bio-signature. Even the people
wearing bandages and headscarves aren’t safe from my mosquito’s all-seeing
eye. The mosquito uses a combination of infra-red and x-ray vision to peek
underneath anything obscuring an individual’s face.
The mosquito suddenly homes in on someone. At first glance it appears