Chapter Thirty-Three

Chuck couldn’t believe he was happy to see Dredd. He was a warm body and he had a gun, which was enough to make Chuck want to whoop with joy.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. Looks like you’re a regular two-man wrecking crew.” He motioned the rifle at the demolished bone pyramid. “That mustn’t have been easy. I used to think about all the hurricanes and such that thing withstood. And it was made by them. Kinda makes you think it didn’t take a genius to build the pyramids. At least back in old Ancient Egypt, you guys weren’t around to make a mess of it all.”

“You knew about it?” Mick asked. He didn’t seem to be as happy as Chuck was to see Dredd.

Dredd nodded, his eyes roving over the destruction.

“Then how come you didn’t put it on the map? Seems like a pretty big thing to miss.”

“Maybe because it wasn’t important,” Chuck said to Mick.

“You think that wasn’t important?”

“You had me hogtied, asshole,” Dredd said. “We weren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

Mick looked at Dredd’s rifle, which was still pointed right at him. “I guess we’re still not.”

Dredd looked down as if he hadn’t realized he was holding a weapon. He shifted it so the barrel faced the ground. “Sorry about that. Can’t be too careful. I didn’t see your faces when I came up on you.”

“You know a lot of Melon Heads his size with their arm in a sling?”

Chuck didn’t like the way things were escalating. Why did Mick look like he wanted to kill Dredd? “Guys, just take it easy.”

“Yeah, Mick, cool your jets. I came to help you. We’re in the same sinking ship. I figured if you don’t make it, I’m next and I’ll have to do it alone.”

“They took Marnie and Vent,” Chuck said. “You think they killed them, or would they take them somewhere?”

Dredd scratched his head. “You never know. Though I suspect if they wanted to kill them, they’d do it right away, especially if it was in front of you. They don’t mess around, especially when they’re hungry.”

A soft breeze rattled the crisping leaves in the deadly quiet woods. It sounded like thousands of teeth chattering. Chuck clung to the hope that his friends were still alive somewhere. Now they had to find them.

He wasn’t sure Mick had blinked since laying eyes on Dredd. A look of distrust was painted on his face.

Mick said, “Okay then, fearless leader, lead.”

Dredd shifted on his feet, started to walk, and turned back. “I don’t think I like the idea of having you behind me, Mick-O. Side by side would be better.”

Mick made a barely noticeable shrug. “Fine by me. Chuck, can you take the box?”

“Sure.”

It was awkward going now as Mick and Dredd struggled to never let one get in front of the other. Sometimes, the game trail narrowed and they had to squeeze together like the Three Stooges wedging their way through a doorway. It would have been comical at any other time.

“Are we getting close?” Chuck asked.

“Won’t be long,” Dredd replied.

“How many times have you been out here?”

“Just once.” He looked back at Chuck. “It’s the kind of thing you never forget. You’ll see for yourself if we make it back.”

If we make it back.

That should have instilled more fear in him, but the words hit him like blank rounds from a gun. Back was funerals for his parents and Heidi, being grilled by cops, school that seemed like it no longer mattered and a future that had been fucked seven ways to Sunday. Back was nothing, other than the satisfaction of knowing they had accomplished what they had set out to do and saved their friends to boot. That moment of glory would be short-lived. And then what?

No, the words only made him sad for a life that he never got a chance to live.

“How many’d you kill?” Dredd asked.

“We’re not keeping score,” Chuck said.

“I’m sure Mick is.”

Mick didn’t answer him. He didn’t even so much as glance at him.

“I heard a pretty big boom and then another smaller one and some shooting. You have a shootout at their pyramid?”

Chuck pushed a branch from his face. Gnats, attracted to his sweat, were forming a second skin. “Mick blew it up when it was empty. Then we found some hiding in this hole in the ground. What was that pyramid, anyway?”

“I always think of it as a kind of school. It’s where they store anything they find and then study it, but not like we do. They had shit from a long, long time ago in there. I don’t know if they find it just digging around, or if they’ve been out here all this time and steal stuff when they can. If that’s the case, they’ve been here for centuries.”

Centuries. Long enough for settlers to come in close contact with the native people, destined to create something new and terrifying.

Chuck said, “I’m surprised none of them came when Mick blew it up. There were a bunch behind us in the dark woods.”

Dredd jumped over a log with Mick in tandem. “That just means you surprised them. They don’t know what to do yet, but they’ll figure it out. If we let them.”

“They’re going to be pissed.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Insane is more like it. You just destroyed what I figure is the cultural center of their hive of freaks. Not to mention their graveyard. Which means we better find them fast. You boys think you got enough firepower to blow them all sky high?”

Chuck was pretty sure they didn’t. It wasn’t worth speaking it aloud.

They walked in silence for another ten minutes. Chuck kept throwing looks at the darkening sky. He figured they had an hour of daylight left. Would an hour be enough? It would have to be.

“Hold up,” Dredd whispered. He hunkered down behind a moss-covered boulder. “I think that’s it right over there.”

Chuck followed where he was pointing. The trees and brush grew very close together here, so it was hard to see much farther than twenty feet. In the murky distance, Chuck spotted a wisp of gray smoke coming from the ground. “Is that the cave entrance?”

Dredd nodded. His expression was anxious and dire. “More like the doorway to the caverns below us. You have to climb down to get inside. It looked pretty narrow the one time I saw it.”

“Did you go inside?”

“Hell no. They may give me special privileges, but I’m not one of them. That’s Melon Head-only territory.”

Chuck lifted the lid off the fireworks box, depressed to see how much it had emptied since they’d set out. “You think we could cave it all in?”

“You could, but that’s only one entrance. I’ve spotted others in the area. I expect there’s a maze of tunnels down there they can just run to and get out.”

Mick finally broke his silence. “Then how do we get their leader?”

“You don’t.”

Mick turned to Dredd with fire in his eyes. “We have to. It’s not like we have a choice. Is he down there or not?”

“Usually, yes. But he’s surrounded by guards, or at least the stronger freaks that never leave his side. You have to kill them first.”

Mick licked his lips and said, “How many?”

“That I don’t know. Maybe six. I think it changes. You have them on high alert now. They’re gonna go all out to protect him.”

A bee buzzed Chuck’s ear. He had to stop himself from slapping at it. He checked the bullets in his gun. Five. Mick was probably lucky if he had a bullet left. He hoped Dredd came fully prepared.

Mick slipped around the boulder and crept closer. Dredd and Chuck tried to keep up with him. They stopped now and again, pausing to see if they’d been detected. If this was the spot where the Melon Heads lived, it was awfully deserted. Though now Chuck could clearly see where the smoke was coming from. There was a rise in the forest floor with an open jack-o’-lantern mouth spewing smoke. What there wasn’t was a Melon Head in sight. Chuck took a quarter stick from the box and squeezed it, waiting.

“Where are they?” Chuck said. The Melon Heads couldn’t all be out searching for them. He looked down, imagining hundreds of Melon Heads scurrying just beneath them like angry moles.

“Fuck if I know,” Dredd said. He rested the barrel of his rifle on his knee and aimed it at the ragged chasm.

Mick suddenly stood and stepped behind Dredd, pressing his rifle on the back of Dredd’s head. “What did you tell them?”

Dredd tried to turn around, but Mick pressed harder against his skull, keeping him from moving his head. “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t tell them anything, man. Now get that fucking gun away from me.”

Mick pulled the hammer back instead. “You came from the wrong direction.”

Chuck said, “What are you talking about?”

“He came from this direction. If he’d been following us, he would have approached from the other side of the pyramid. He’d gotten here before us. Probably warned them, too. So, what’s waiting for us, Dredd?”

Dredd’s finger inched down toward the trigger. Chuck kicked the rifle out of his hands.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Dredd said to Chuck.

“We’ve been making a lot of mistakes the past week,” Mick said. “What’s one more?”

“I’m not the enemy. We’re on the same side in this.”

Mick sneered. “So you tell me.”

Chuck didn’t hear the Melon Head in the trees until it had fallen on top of Dredd, piledriving him into the dirt. The Melon Head grazed Chuck just enough to knock him down. It jammed its knees into Dredd’s back and punched him in the neck. Chuck tried to get up and slipped. He lashed out with his foot, but his heel skipped off the Melon Head’s hip with little effect.

“Get it off me!” Dredd wailed. The Melon Head delivered a series of savage rabbit punches to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him.

Mick flipped the rifle in his hands and swung it like a baseball ball. The wooden stock made a loud thunk as it connected with the creature’s bare skull. The Melon Head raised a fist to hammer Dredd, and then the arm went limp, followed by the rest of its body. Blood leaked from its ear as it slumped. Dredd was quick to flip himself over, his hand going to his neck. Chuck saw a red fist mark that took up the entire side of Dredd’s neck.

Dredd stared at Mick. “Happy now? Do I have to get killed before you realize I’m not your problem?”

Mick looked like he was about to hit Dredd with the rifle, but then he reached out to help him up.

“I’d say thank you, but I wouldn’t really mean it,” Dredd said.

“I still don’t give a shit what you say,” Mick said.

“Then we’re all in agreement and on the same page,” Chuck said. He kept glancing up into the trees. If there was one Melon Head, there had to be others. He felt like setting off a mortar into the thickest cluster of branches and leaves just to see what shook out. “What’s our next move?”

Mick looked back at the cave opening. “We get their attention. Help me with this one.”

They dragged the unconscious Melon Head through the brush and to the entrance of the cave. The feral man was clad in filthy rags and smelled like eons of hot excrement. “Leave it here.” He grabbed a mortar from the box, laid it on the so-called doorstep of the cave, aimed into the darkness. He lit the fuse and stepped away. The mortar exploded with a shower of sparks, its scream echoing as it zoomed into the depths. Flashes of light strobed in the cave when it exploded. Mick straddled the wounded Melon Head’s back and slipped an arm around its neck. He stared at the opening, waiting.

“They like the whole eye-for-an-eye thing so much,” he said. “Maybe they’ll think twice just to save old stinky here.”

A commotion of excited guttural grunts and cries seeped from the cave, along with the sound of shuffling feet after the fireworks display stopped. They were coming. Chuck and Dredd had their weapons ready.

When the first Melon Head appeared, Chuck nearly lost his resolve. Its naked flesh was so pale, it must have never seen the sun. It walked on all fours, a brutal cleft palate bisecting the bottom half of its face. It had white, sightless eyes and a mouthful of rotted teeth, each one Chuck assumed ripe with infection. It was on a leash made of vines.

The Melon Head holding the leash emerged, followed by several others, each with barrel chests, though small in stature. Their fingertips swayed past their knees, their arms corded with muscle and looking as if they could easily crush a man.

Last to come out was the largest Melon Head Chuck had seen. He knew in an instant this was their leader. The alpha male. He was nearly as tall as Chuck and less deformed than the others. If you had dressed him in modern clothes and cut the mat of hair growing from different spots on his head, he might almost pass for human.

Almost.

His eyes were set too far apart and hard, his jaw overly large and square, like a caricature of a WWF wrestler.

More, lesser Melon Heads, men, women and children, clambered out after them, all with vicious looks on their faces. They wanted to rip Chuck, Mick and Dredd apart. Chuck wasn’t entirely sure what was stopping them.

In all, Chuck counted thirty-three Melon Heads at the cave entrance. He knew there had to be more in the woods. He could practically feel them at his back.

Both sides glared at one another for what seemed an eternity. Mick locked eyes with the leader, engaged in a standoff. Chuck looked at the quarter stick and lighter he’d stuffed in his sling. It was one of the sticks with the very short fuse. If he lit it now and tossed it at the leader and his guards, would it go off fast enough to kill or at least maim them?

How would the others react? Would they run from the grisly display or toward him, Mick and Dredd?

Just wait, he thought. See who makes the first move.

He didn’t have to wait long.