CHAPTER 09 YEAR 37, MONTH 08 NARRATOR: FIREBIRD This year I was on site at Damnation Valley long before The Gathering even began. I was gonna find who I had to find and fight who I had to fight and sell all the Firebuddies I could. I parked in the same place where me and John always parked so we'd be able to trade places. A military truck appeared in the distance. It was towing a folding radio tower. I got out of my car and waved. The truck pulled up. The Swede climbed out of the driver's side. Deadline jumped out of the passenger side. "What's buzzin cousin?" he asked. I hugged both of them cunts. I pointed to Deadline and told Swede "I found your news guy. It was the Twinkie on the chair that tipped me off." Swede gave me the official story. Deadline was poisoned and needed time to recover. The Cult Of Catmeat shipped him off to Uranium Springs in a crate of potatoes. A mad scientist started using him for experiments. Firecracker rescued him. I include this bullshit story only for the sake of completeness. The truth is that the WCC has a skunk works out in Uranium Springs and they don't want anyone to know about it. Deadline had a camera on him like the one he'd had in Uranium Springs only smaller. "How many photos can that thing take in a second?" I asked. "There's no film to advance so it's quick as a bunny" Deadline answered. "I just need a place to put all that data." "Was that a digital audio recorder you left for Firecracker at The Cannibal Run?" Swede explained that one. "That's a project I've been working on." He pulled a little box out of his pocket and pressed a button. The box started talking in his voice. "I'm The Swede and I've got what you need. This is Bob Crosby And The Bobcats with Way Back Home." "I can't be everywhere at once" Swede said. "And I sleep sometimes too. Sometimes we even sell an ad." "If you let me borrow those tonight I'll have a working digital movie camera by tomorrow morning" I said. "I'll hook them both up to a Firebuddy. It has all the space we'll need. We'll be able to store and edit and transmit digital video all over the world." I pulled my new Firebuddy 2 out of my backpack. That's right you fuckers. It fits in a backpack. You thought I'd been slack? I'd gotten my new factory up and running in no time. Mohawk Asshole's factory was producing ripoff Assholebuddies but they were last year's model and the quality control was shit and nobody wanted them. Mohawk Asshole stole my factory and let my ideas wither and die. Not sexy. Skelli stole my ideas and added her own smarts to them. Sexy as fuck. By midnight I had the digital movie camera working. When morning came we tried it out. I'd mounted it on a cart. Each of the components was portable on its own but the combination of all three wasn't. Not yet. The first digital film footage of the Epoxyclypse timeline is of me and Swede and Deadline in Damnation Valley sitting around telling the story of our invention. Yeah I know it's not literally "film footage" anymore but that's what I'm calling it. "Motion pictures" is too long and I wasn't gonna use the thing to make goddamn TV shows. I was gonna make fucking movies. We were gonna give them back their heroes. No way I was destroying my car for my movie though. Why did John even suggest that? He's supposed to be telling the story of my life. John can destroy his car if he wants. My story's not gonna end like that. My story's gonna be different. The next vehicle to arrive at The Gathering was a Holden Sandman. Nice one too. I hadn't seen one of them since I'd left Straya. As it got closer I could make out some words on the side of it: MS INDUSTRIES WHAT'S LEFT O'SYDNEY AUSTRALIA I stood up. Mad Skelli got out of the van. The sun was rising behind her. And would you look at her. The next generation. A goddamn captain of industry. "I've missed you" I said. "I don't even know who you are anymore" she replied. "Last time you saw me I wasn't myself. It's a long story. You wanna read it?" "I'm just here to sell computers. What happened last time doesn't matter. What matters is that you were gone for ten years." She hugged me. Her smile was distant but her embrace was intimate. I was about to learn some kind of lesson so it was a good thing that at that moment an arrow fell from the sky and ripped a gash out of my leg. We looked up to see a dust cloud billowing in the distance. Mohawk Asshole was cruising our way in a buggy with a heap of cars behind him. He'd brought friends. Wait. He doesn't have friends. Well except for that one Skelli bumped off. He'd brought mercenaries. Deadline said "Those guys are looking for trouble. We'd better burn rubber. Can you walk?" Thunk. Another arrow. This one hit the Firebuddy that was powering our movie camera. "Fuck off" I shouted into the distance. "We're trying to make history here." "I can walk" I said. "I'm deciding if I'm going to." Thunk. This one? This one hit my badass car. "Gather round everyone" I said. I hopped over to my car and opened the boot. Skelli's face lit up. She grabbed the biggest gun I had. MAG58. "Nice" I said. Huh? Yeah I still had them terrorist guns. Heaps of ammo too. How many people did you think I murdered in my youth? What kind of a monster do you think I am? Swede chose the L1A1. "A man who knows his guns" I said. Deadline grabbed the FP45 Liberator. Mass produced by General Motors at a cost of two dollars each. Single shot. Bolt action. The only gun in history that may never have actually killed anyone. "Ok" I said. I grabbed the PSG1 with a bipod and scope and laid on the ground. "Take out the leader with the mohawk" I said. "The rest of them will back off as soon as they realize they ain't getting paid. Let's facefuck this fuckface." Then a school bus pulled in between us. Deliberately blocking my shot. It was joined by several more cars. The first tribe of Gathering attendees had arrived. They got out of their cars and surrounded us. They were not going to let us have it out. There was no single person in charge telling us we couldn't fight. It was just a rule we all lived by at The Gathering. We were being detained by a gang of temporary pacifists. "No fighting at The Gathering except for in The Cage" someone said. They grabbed me and put me in handcuffs. See what I mean when I say anarchy and government ain't so different? Since the fight was really just between me and Mohawk Asshole they were gonna have me and him duke it out in The Cage that night. They would have thrown us in right then and there but The Cage wasn't put together yet and my leg was fucked up. They had a medical truck and a security truck. First I was gonna visit one then I was gonna visit the other. A doctor in the medical truck fixed up my leg. Yeah I had to pay her. Doctor ain't gonna doct for free. Then they dragged me to my cell in the back of the security truck. I had a cellmate. Good thing we were both chained to the walls. "Little Shit" he said. "Mohawk Asshole" I said. He laughed. "Is that what you call me? I like it. How long ago was it that I killed your family?" "Let's see. I've had my badass car for... thirty seven years now." "And in all that time we've never had a chance to talk." "Sure we have. I drive by. You yell something like 'That's my car' or 'I'll kill everyone you love.'" "And you say 'Attachment leads to suffering.'" "Those were my mother's last words." "Were you attached to your family?" "Were you attached to your car?" "That car was the first thing I ever expropriated. I took it from the CEO of an oil company." "You have excellent taste. I love every minute I spend in that car. It's like it was made for me." "Do you know why I killed your family John?" He knew my name. That caught me off guard. "My family... was collateral damage in a senseless war." "Senseless war? You don't know do you? I killed your family on purpose. I was trying to kill you too. I was trying to kill all of you." I tried to keep my cool but it wasn't working. I was burning with blind rage. I couldn't believe that in a battle of who could stay calm the longest the one who was winning was the asshole who spent all day fighting and yelling. There was no way I'd be able keep my wits about me in The Cage. But hey it would be worth dying in there if I got in one good hit. He continued. "I spent my childhood in Chile. Did you know that?" "No" I said. "Did you know that your mother was an adviser to Pinochet?" "Yeah. She was the Chicago Gal." "Do you know what Pinochet did to the people of Chile?" "I heard things." "I didn't hear anything. I didn't see anything. To this day I don't know what Pinochet did. I don't know because one day my parents just disappeared." "I can only imagine how much it must suck to be an orphan." "I killed your family because your family killed my family." "My mother didn't kill your parents." "She influenced the policies of the man who did." "His economic policies." "She was complicit in the deaths of thousands and the torture of thousands more." "She saved Chile's economy." "Chile didn't need saving. The people of Chile wanted to rule themselves." "The socialists wanted to rule the people of Chile." "The socialists were democratically elected." "Democracy is just two foxes guarding a henhouse. Inside the henhouse is a goose that lays golden eggs. The two foxes and the goose vote on whether to break the golden eggs so they can have omelets for brekkie." "So you're a fascist then? Like your mother?" "Fuck no. She wasn't neither. She just taught me that you shouldn't vote to have your government take shit away from people." "We seized the means of production from those who would exploit the efforts of the poor." "What are the means of production?" "Factories. Infrastructure." "Productivity is more than just poor people's efforts plus rich people's factories. If you put me on the guillotine you'd better save my head cuz you're gonna need it." NARRATOR: JOHN Firebird and I had planned to trade places earlier, but he hadn't shown. Now, trading places would either happen accidentally, or I wouldn't see him until our next planned meeting. I was concerned because I knew Mohawk A**hole would be at The Gathering looking for him. The crowdfunding campaign for the full-length movie had hit its initial goal of $5,000 before Wasteland Weekend had even begun. That meant, at the very least, I'd be headed back to Australia in a few months to shoot another scene. After the premiere of my short film at the Wasteland Film Festival, I stayed for a while answering questions about my plans for the full-length film. Lots of people said they'd donate. Lots of people offered to help. I was thrilled and terrified. I had taken every step with intention, but I still felt like I was being swept up in something beyond my control. Giving up control is my greatest fear. I don't like admitting that. I hate even writing that sentence down. I'd gotten permission to shoot a scene for my film during Wasteland Weekend. I was going to have Firebird and Mohawk A**hole face off in The Cage. Wasteland Weekend had its own version of the Thunderdome so we planned to shoot the Cage fight scene there. Christine was in attendance again this year. She volunteered to operate the camera. Bruce had flown in from the other side of the world to party with us and perform in the Thunderdome scene. When Bruce saw my car, he teared up. "That's my car," he said. He gave it a hug. It would have been a nice moment, but in the larger context, it was kind of creepy. Night had fallen, but the Thunderdome was lit up bright as day. A crowd had surrounded the dome, flowed onto it, and spilled over it. Everyone was everywhere, and everyone was screaming. Bruce and I took our places in line. I've always hated fighting, whether for real or for sport. I've always thought that martial arts bouts, boxing, and even football should be outlawed. I can't stand watching that stuff, even on TV. I know the participants sign up for it. But there are some rights that a person can't sign away in a contract. The right to not be assaulted should be one of those rights you can't sign away. But Thunderdome was downright primal. Atavistic. It spoke to a part of me that I thought had evolved away. I'd never seen anything like it. In every bout, two people are strung up with bungees and launched at each other. The weapons are bats covered with foam, but they look real enough and they can still leave a mark. One woman kicked her best friend in the eye. Another woman got flipped upside down, and her face was dragged through the dirt. One guy dislocated his thumb. The best strategy in the Thunderdome is to fly at your opponent spread eagle and grab them with your legs, leaving your hands free to beat them. If they end up turned around or upside down, it's all the better for you. Bruce and I were hopped-up on adrenaline. We didn't speak. We growled. We snarled. We hissed. He was seriously starting to scare me, but I could feel my fear making me scarier, too. Maybe he's as scared of me as I am of him. He should be. He was older than me. Maybe he'd break a hip out there. I was gonna send him to the nursing home. They strung us up on the bungees. A tense moment. Then they launched us into the dome. I pinned Bruce with my legs and started thwacking him with the bat. He was turned in such a way that he could barely thwack back. I could see the fear in his eyes. I was out for blood. Suddenly the bungees were gone. The dome was gone. I was in a big box made of chain link fencing. A crowd of spectators surrounded the box. I felt like I'd been shot in the leg, and I could tell I had a broken rib. Something struck me in the arm, hard. I'd swapped timelines with Firebird. I was at The Gathering. I was in The Cage. Mohawk A**hole was in here with me. And I was losing. Both of us had baseball bats. There was no padding on these bats. Mohawk A**hole came at me. There's a time for fighting, and there's a time for flighting. I ran. Not that there was anywhere to go. I lapped the perimeter as fast as I could. I changed directions. When he cornered me, I jumped over him, or dove under him. He got me in the shoulder and I dropped my bat. The referee separated us and returned my bat to me. That's good, at least there are some rules. Then his bat hit me in the face and I was on the ground. A string of bloody saliva dangled from my mouth. I looked up. Skelli was outside the fence cheering. "Cut his balls off for me! Give them to me! I want his baaallls!" I hoped she was cheering for me and not against me. She'd made it to The Gathering again. She'd finally found Firebird. He'd finally found her. I couldn't let this be the end. I owed it to them. Firebird and Skelli deserved a second chance. I stood up. How could I beat a man who had once ripped the steering wheel out of a truck with his face? What were my strengths? I'm quick. I'm great at running away. Too bad there was nowhere to run. What were his weaknesses? He sometimes fell asleep while driving. That couldn't help us here. What else did I know about him? He's indestructible. He wants his car back. He's prone to fits of uncontrollable rage. Oh, wait. That might work. I'll make him angry and defeat him like a bullfighter. Distract him, anger him, evade him. Wear him out. Wait as long as possible to make my move. "That's a real great car you used to have," I said. He roared and swung his bat. I dived out of the way. "Yeah," I said. "That's one sexy car." Whoosh. His bat flew by me again. He was gaining strength, but losing accuracy. The less accurate he was, the easier he was to avoid. "Ooh, so sexy." The problem was I couldn't think of what else to say. I had to improvise. "I had sex with your car," I said. He froze and gave me a weird look. Then he started trembling with rage. He screamed. He threw his bat down and started furiously chasing me. The referee was trying to give him his bat back. "I penetrated its tailpipe! I sucked its shift knob! I licked its steering wheel! And you know what? It loved every second of it!" Finally he tripped over his own feet and fell. I turned around and readied my bat. He turned and looked up at me. "John?" he said. "Bruce?" "Where are we mate?" Mohawk A**hole and Bruce had traded places too. "Trust me. Play dead." I gave him a theatrical glancing blow with the bat. He stopped moving. The referee counted to ten. Knockout. The crowd wanted more. "Kill, kill, kill," they chanted. I whispered to the referee. "Do I have to kill him?" "You don't have to. But you can, if you want to." "I don't want to." "Then drop the bat." "Oh, ok." I dropped the bat and threw my hands into the air victoriously. The crowd erupted in applause. And then I was back in the Thunderdome at Wasteland Weekend. They were taking me out of my harness. Bruce's harness was empty. Messing with your phone is generally frowned upon at Wasteland, but people make exceptions. Christine ran up to me, hugged me, and showed me her phone. Our fundraising campaign had hit $500K. "I really want to be excited right now," I said, "but I'm worried about Bruce. Where did he go?" "He ran away," she answered. I sprinted to my camping spot. My car was gone. Mohawk A**hole had taken my car and was running free in Tomorrowland. Bruce was stuck in Epoxyclypse.