This week our very own Cajun Cop, JumpOut, tazers the whacked-out world of Mild Max.  Next week Elm lends her talents to this ongoing political satire novel.

Chapter5: Escape from the Kill Zone

Seeing no immediate danger above ground, I cautiously eased myself out of the sewer. I turned back to give my new pistol wielding lady friend a hand up. I’m nothing if not a gentleman. Immediately a terrified look
surfaced on her tough, yet feminine face. She screamed and was yanked back into the darkness of the sewer.

“Holy shit!” I said out loud, as if someone would hear me. A flash of questions hit me momentarily. Who was this chick? What did she want with me? Why shouldn’t I leave her to whoever or whatever just caused us to prematurely part company? Okay, so I’m nothing.

Well, the only way to find out the answers to these questions would be to follow her into the blackness. I wasn’t doing anything at the time, and this was the first broad I had seen in a while that I might be interested in rolling around naked with. What the hell, right?

With my mind made up, and set on violence, I reached into one of my jacket pockets. I keep a couple of flashbangs for emergencies, and this seemed a grand occasion to burn one.

I banged the hole (sorry but these are the kind of bad internal puns that surface when you’ve worked too long in a city where flitters do all manner of distasteful things in public, but will publicly behead you if you dare utter a joke that offends them). I made sure there was a round chambered in my boomstick, and entered the -suddenly and
briefly illuminated- sewer.

When I jumped down into the sewer, I took a quick look around in the quickly dying light of the spent bang. I could see in the distance a figure lying on the dank sewer floor and my damsel in distress running back toward me.

When she reached me, I fired a round down the tunnel where she came from in hopes of slowing down any possible pursuers. I helped her up to the surface, and moved the manhole cover back into place.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“No thanks to you, you freakin’ moron! I told you to shut the fuck up!” She shouted.

“I just saved your shapely ass! A little gratitude would be nice.”

“Saved me? You think your flashbang saved me? I’ll have you know that I can take care of myself, and that it was a well placed brachial stun, and a well placed bullet that saved my, as you so colorfully put it, shapely ass. All your flashbang did was give me a mark to run to, and for that thanks, but it was your loud mouth that got me in that situation in the first god-damned place.”

“Whatever.” I mumbled in a tone that sounded like a whimper from a dog that had been kicked too hard…or not hard enough. “What do you want with me, and where in the hell are we going, anyway?”

“I’m taking you to see my employer.” She replied.

“Well, that answers a lot.” I said, with the sarcasm of a crippled, Vicodin addicted doctor. “Who is your employer, and what do they want with me?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.” She grumbled. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get the hell out of here in case those beastly fuckers, can open manhole covers.”

We started walking. “Who says I want to meet your employer? What if I don’t want to go?” I asked. Not that the answer would have mattered.

“Jesus! What are you, like seven? Do you ever stop asking questions? Are we there yet?” She mocked in a tone reminiscent of an annoying child. “The answer should be evident, Mr. Observant policeman. We know you were going to leave the city. So did they apparently. You know the dangers out here. If you want to hack it alone, fine. If you come with me to meet my boss, you’ll have someone of a capable sort who has an interest in keeping you alive, at least till we make our destination.”

She stopped. She lifted a white tarp she was using to camouflage a shallow pit covered with plywood. Beneath the plywood were two, small dirtbikes laying on their side.

“Where did you get those?” I bubbled in amazement. “Wait, who is ‘we’ and who are ‘they’?”

She stood her bike up. “These will outrun the Segways, and huffys.” She stomped on the kickstart. The engine growled with all the ferocity of a chainsaw on steroids. “Now shut the fuck up and follow me.”

If you are interested in writing a chapter, to help Max along his southward journey, please head to Mild Max.

Category: Political Humor Tags: Climate Change, Global Cooling, Mild Max Novel, Political Satire