Vicious World - The Fist and the Eagle

Chapter 4

        Danger and I climb over some rubble from a downed brick building as we make our way to Dread Park. The block we’re in is very quiet, which is a shock, since it had been filled with Tribals for as long as I can remember.

        I step on a twig and a small flock of huge ash-whitened blackbirds shoots up into the air about ten yards away, leaving ash motes and black feathers floating lazily in a strip of sunlight. Startled, Danger takes out his submachine gun and takes down one of them, gunfire echoing off the buildings and through the air.

        “Jesus, Danger,” I say, heart pounding from both the birds and the bullets tearing through the silence, “You should have at least warned me.”

“Tell that to the birds,” says an equally stirred Danger, “Besides, now we have dinner.” 

        He walks over and picks the huge bird up, the feathers falling off as he runs his fingers against them, revealing the scarred, mutated skin, “Uh, you can have that if you want,” I say, turning my head away from the grotesque animal, “I’ll stick with my grains and other stuff that isn’t irradiated.”

        “Suit yourself, man,” he says in an almost delighted tone. “More for me.” He places it in his bag and we continue on, past the downed buildings and charred trees. More giant blackbirds are perched atop buildings, watching us closely, yellow eyes burrowing deep into our own.

        Dread Zoo, the park directly after, is just up ahead. A sign hanging over an opening in a fence marks that. Next to the entrance is a sign with a nuclear radiation warning, and attached to that, a piece of plywood that says, “Danger, turn back!”

        “Oh, look. Someone left something for me,” says a snickering Danger, “Guess I’ll see you when you get back, Mikey!”

        I roll my eyes, “Get ready. Check your ammo. And here,” I take out my pistol and two suppressors, “We’re gonna need these.”

        Danger and I twist on our suppressors and get in a crouching position, safety off. Time to enter the most dangerous place in all of Brooklyn.

        The first stretch is in front of us, crawling with escaped insects from the entomology section of the zoo. We go along the fence and stay as far away from the giant cicadas, better known to the York wasteland as tree-mongers because they can consume an entire tree in just a pack of two in seconds, and aren’t afraid to do the same to anything else that moves. Their high-pitched chirping is their only real form of defense against a gun, and can even deafen anyone within a ten meter radius, so obviously we want to keep away from them.

        I hear Danger beginning to inhale and exhale deeply, and my eyes go wide as he lets out a huge sneeze. The chirping stops and we stand perfectly still.

        “Guess I should have stifled that, huh?” whispers Danger, which is followed by an eruption of chirping and the beating of the tree-mongers’ wings.

        “Yeah, you should have held it in!” I say, running for a nearby exhibit building and bursting in, locking the glass door behind us, “Look!” In front of us is a dark room, partially lit by a small lightbulb that reveals a suitcase and several first-aid boxes. Realizing I had yet to heal my shoulder, I take out a Synstem and inject it into my arm. Fresh relief comes as my wound closes up completely, but after the pleasure comes the feeling of sickness that can only be radiation poisoning, and I get a bit woozy.