Read Online Highway To Armageddon by Harold Bloemer - Free Book Online
Authors: Harold Bloemer
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Devils
are having a good season. I assume this will be another Sanctuary 7 loss.
Soon we enter the center of the city. Skyscrapers are everywhere now. The
Sanctuary only inhabits a limited area, and tons of people want to live here,
so they basically cram us all into 1,500-foot tall towers. I’m just glad we
were able to purchase a spacious penthouse condo. My claustrophobia would be in
full affect if I was squeezed into some windowless, one-room apartment in the
basement.
We pass a number of casinos, bars, whorehouses, and opium dens as well. I’m
disgusted the government would allow prostitution in the sanctuaries, but at
least the girls are treated much better here than they are outside the walls.
The casinos disturb me for another reason entirely. The country still has a
staggering high poverty rate, even though the Depression started 40 years ago.
One would think people would save what little money they have instead of
throwing it on a roulette table. But the American Dream nowadays seems to be
all about getting rich quick. Everyone wants to live like our wealthy ancestors
in the 20 th and early 21 st centuries. Even though the
odds of winning even a minute amount of money via gambling are astronomically
small, that doesn’t stop people from betting everything for that fleeting
dream.
Finally, after what seems like forever, we reach our apartment complex. It’s
one of the tallest in the city, a vertigo-inducing 1,700 feet tall. Normally we
just land on the roof and enter our apartment that way, but today we have to
park in the underground garage. Lance drives into the basement and parks in a
rare open spot near the back.
Krystal clambers out of the car and says, “Whew, it smells like doody in here.”
“Somebody probably did doody in here,” Lance says, holding his nose. “You know
all the homeless drunks like to hang out in underground garages when the
weather gets bad.”
Lance’s case is proven correct when I nearly step on a homeless man sleeping
near the elevator, covered with a tattered sheet. My heart breaks at the sight
of him. I would give him some money if I hadn’t given it all to Sally and
Dorothy. He obviously has some money, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to afford
the $5,000 monthly fee just to live behind the Sanctuary walls. But that’s
probably all he can afford, hence the reason he’s sleeping in the garage.
Lance sees my eyes beginning to tear up and gently tugs at my arm. He just
doesn’t want me dragging another “stray” into our apartment.
“C’mon Firecracker, let’s go see the kids,” he says, leading me to the
elevator.
On the long ride up to the top floor, I quietly wonder what could have possibly
happened to Dorothy and Sally. If they took the train like I said, they should
have arrived well ahead of us. Could someone have kidnapped them at the
station? Could Big Daddy have hunted them down? I realize it’s best for me to
stop imagining their fates because I’m only upsetting myself.
The elevator dings, snapping me out of my thoughts. The elevator door opens,
and we walk out into the hallway. Our condo is at the end of the hall. Lance
rushes ahead of us. He almost has a hop in his steps. He, like me, loves
nothing more than coming home after a death-defying mission.
Lance knocks on the door since he doesn’t have his key. (He’s still wearing the
complimentary robe from the motel, since we never bothered to stop and buy him
new clothes.) The door flies open a split-second later, and the two cutest kids
I’ve ever known rush into Lance’s arms.
“Lance!!” Blade and Harpoon cry, wrapping their skinny arms around Lance’s
waist.
“Hey guys, what’s up?”
are having a good season. I assume this will be another Sanctuary 7 loss.
Soon we enter the center of the city. Skyscrapers are everywhere now. The
Sanctuary only inhabits a limited area, and tons of people want to live here,
so they basically cram us all into 1,500-foot tall towers. I’m just glad we
were able to purchase a spacious penthouse condo. My claustrophobia would be in
full affect if I was squeezed into some windowless, one-room apartment in the
basement.
We pass a number of casinos, bars, whorehouses, and opium dens as well. I’m
disgusted the government would allow prostitution in the sanctuaries, but at
least the girls are treated much better here than they are outside the walls.
The casinos disturb me for another reason entirely. The country still has a
staggering high poverty rate, even though the Depression started 40 years ago.
One would think people would save what little money they have instead of
throwing it on a roulette table. But the American Dream nowadays seems to be
all about getting rich quick. Everyone wants to live like our wealthy ancestors
in the 20 th and early 21 st centuries. Even though the
odds of winning even a minute amount of money via gambling are astronomically
small, that doesn’t stop people from betting everything for that fleeting
dream.
Finally, after what seems like forever, we reach our apartment complex. It’s
one of the tallest in the city, a vertigo-inducing 1,700 feet tall. Normally we
just land on the roof and enter our apartment that way, but today we have to
park in the underground garage. Lance drives into the basement and parks in a
rare open spot near the back.
Krystal clambers out of the car and says, “Whew, it smells like doody in here.”
“Somebody probably did doody in here,” Lance says, holding his nose. “You know
all the homeless drunks like to hang out in underground garages when the
weather gets bad.”
Lance’s case is proven correct when I nearly step on a homeless man sleeping
near the elevator, covered with a tattered sheet. My heart breaks at the sight
of him. I would give him some money if I hadn’t given it all to Sally and
Dorothy. He obviously has some money, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to afford
the $5,000 monthly fee just to live behind the Sanctuary walls. But that’s
probably all he can afford, hence the reason he’s sleeping in the garage.
Lance sees my eyes beginning to tear up and gently tugs at my arm. He just
doesn’t want me dragging another “stray” into our apartment.
“C’mon Firecracker, let’s go see the kids,” he says, leading me to the
elevator.
On the long ride up to the top floor, I quietly wonder what could have possibly
happened to Dorothy and Sally. If they took the train like I said, they should
have arrived well ahead of us. Could someone have kidnapped them at the
station? Could Big Daddy have hunted them down? I realize it’s best for me to
stop imagining their fates because I’m only upsetting myself.
The elevator dings, snapping me out of my thoughts. The elevator door opens,
and we walk out into the hallway. Our condo is at the end of the hall. Lance
rushes ahead of us. He almost has a hop in his steps. He, like me, loves
nothing more than coming home after a death-defying mission.
Lance knocks on the door since he doesn’t have his key. (He’s still wearing the
complimentary robe from the motel, since we never bothered to stop and buy him
new clothes.) The door flies open a split-second later, and the two cutest kids
I’ve ever known rush into Lance’s arms.
“Lance!!” Blade and Harpoon cry, wrapping their skinny arms around Lance’s
waist.
“Hey guys, what’s up?”
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