Chapter Thirteen

effect from Skullfucker Mike's blood. He couldn't think of any other times he'd slept that long, although he also couldn't think of any other times he'd survived a drone attack and an intentional car crash in the same minute. Meret. He cursed and then called out Reggie. He looked over to the cot the journalist had been sleeping on. It was dark in the little room Nana Yazi had provided. He could see the outline of Reggie's empty cot and not much else. The room was just one tin by

tin section of an old shipping crate. Manny knew the only things in the room besides their cots were a table with a built in coffee maker and a pair of folding chairs. Manny sat up owned as every palpable thing in his body popped and then rose to his feet. As he stumbled to the door, his deck started to populate with messages from friends and family back in Austin. By the time his hand touched the knob, there were more than fifty translucent messages hovering at the edges of

his field of vision. He blink selected a mass response template, filled it with the names of everyone who had sent him something, and typed out an update not dead details later. He almost sent it, but then he noticed one of the names, Ayisha Martinez, Oscar's wife. He could only see the first few lines of the message without opening it, but what he saw made it clear she was terrified

for her husband. Manny De selected her from the list and sent the mass message off to everyone else, and then scrolled through his messages until he found Oscar's message stack. The other fixer still hadn't said anything, not since the assault had begun. Many opened up Aisha's message. He tried to read it, he really did, but his brain wouldn't let his eyes focus on the words. His heart started to pound, his gut curdled, and instead of reading it,

he typed her a quick response, I'm alive. I'm so sorry, but I don't know where Oscar is or if he's made it out, And then he typed a sentence he knew instantly he'd regret. I will do everything I can to find your husband. Then he sent the message and stepped out of the room into the dying light of the late North Texas afternoon. Rolling fuck unspooled around him. It was crowded, or at least more crowded than it

had been yesterday. Dozens of people and non human people were packed onto the gantry ways and into the sundry buildings added around the rollers and up on the spires. One building that jutted off the rear roller looked like a carousel ride, with little rocket ships instead of horses. It appeared to function as a spinning bar. Drunk people rode little ships while bartenders in the middle kept them

liquored up. Someone shoved by him, a heavily chromed person with three tails, each topped by the fully articulated and seemingly sentient head of a cat. One of the cat heads belched a small puff of fire at manny As where we passed. He shook his head and squeezed his way over to the main roller. It helped little to pretend he was just pushing his way onto the Austin Metro.

While he walked, he noticed a message from Reggie. He blink clicked it open and heard Reggie's voice in his ear at the rooftop bar, drinking my way through some research. Fund me when you wake up, I'm onto something. Of course, Manny had already been on his way there before he'd seen Reggie's message. That was the simple reality of British journalists. If it was possible for one to be drinking, that's what they'd be doing. The walk took about ten minutes.

He crossed a combination of gantry ways, staircases, and even one webbed net. The bar was packed when he arrived, but it was easy enough to pick out Reggie. Both his holographic screens were up and active on the bar top in front of them. He was seated next to Skullfucker Mike, and they were deep in conversation when Manny walked up. Hey, brother, Reggie said, you've been out for a long time. Yeah, Manny said, nothing like that's ever happened to me before. How long were you out? The

journalist thought for moment and then answered, odd. Guess like a day he said, Mike told me that's not weird. Yeah, the chrome man chuckled. All medicines got side effects, My weird ass blood is no different. Y'all. Cute little humans ain't made for it. Schoolfucker. Mike and Reggie were both clearly drunk, and just as clearly not as drunk as they planned to be by the end of the night. Mike flashed a grin at Manny and offered a hug

that the fixer accepted awkwardly. Guy, it's good to see you, Mike said, I gotta tell you, I'm kind of jealous of your nap. I miss sleep like that with all this chrome in me. He waved a hand vaguely over his head. I can't get exhausted like that anymore. You miss it when it's gone. I gotta drink like thirty of these fucking things. Mike gestured to the half full drink in front of him. It looked like a pina colada, a strange incense. The odor wafted it up from it

just to pass out like a normal person. Reggie was drinking the same thing. He offered his half full glass to Manny, these things are the best man vodka and opium colattas. They got a little bit of th HC in them too. Mike at it in a high sing song voice. Manny waved them off. I'm good, thanks, I just woke up a minute ago. I probably shouldn't immediately take three different drugs. Reggie and Skullfucker Mike both looked at him like he was an alien. Weird, they said

at the exact same time. Mike laughed and Reggie looked back at his screen as a push notification popped up with a cheery shitting tits. He cursed Manny and skullfucker Mike leaned into the screen. The notification was a newswire update with a journalist who must have been embedded with either the SDF or Austin's forces. The title said, at all as the Heavenly Kingdom prepares for another assault, SDF and Austin abandoned WACO. I'm not surprised they're pulling out,

Mike said. Your people are good enough fighters on a normal day, but the SDF s built to dominate a bunch of squabbling militias. They were never going to hold off a sustained assault from a real army. The sleep was fully banished. Now Manny was awake, and the gravity of what had happened over the last few days sank in again. Amid and de Shaun, We're probably dead, so was Mr Perrone an Oscar. Holy shit, Holy shit? What am I going to tell Ayesha? And then the darker,

more selfish thoughts. Am I going to have time to fly out of Austin? How the hell did the martyrs turn into a real fucking army overnight? He asked, with more fear in his voice than he meant to display. Well, Reggie said as he gestured to a series of curated social media posts from people in and around Siadad de Muerta. Best as we can figure, they sort of stole most of the Republic's army. There are reports of entire units of Republic soldiers, thousands of fight us turning at once.

He gestured to a live, updating political map of Texas. It was a map Manny consulted regularly. The Heavenly Kingdom's territory was outlined and read. There was a lot more read on the map today. It seemed impossible that Sancharados, Manny breathed, Galveston. Yeah, Reggie gave a grim nod. Fell about ten hours ago. Heavenly kingdoms pushing into the Lake Houston suburbs right now the holding position Nan Dallas, though digesting the gains, still ain't gonna be long before they

hit Austin. Mike said, maybe a week, maybe two. Many stood there for a moment. He thought about his father, his friends. He thought about the house where he'd grown up. In the view of Austin Sprawl from his roof, He imagined golden cross banners flapping in the breeze above burnt out buildings. He pictured gallows filled with people strung out along Sixth Street. A knot of nausea started to build in his belly. What will you do, Emmanuel? He heard

mister Perrone's voice echo in his conscience. Many shook the dead man's words away. I need to get back home, he insisted. Is there some way you can get me a ride? Schofucker. Mike took a long pull from his drink. He squinted it, Manny, and the chrombed man's eyes focused. One iris looked a lot larger than the others. Mike swayed a bit in his seat, but he seemed lucid mostly. And what are you gonna do in Austin, he said, pick up a gun and die fighting, unless you're hiding

some serious mods under that skin. I don't think your help make a rat ship worth a difference. I know I'm not going there to fight. I need to what fly away, Go to fucking California. Try your luck in Europe. Mike shook his head. You've got a chance to actually do something. Help us get our people out of Dallas, and we can fuck the Kingdom's advance, maybe even throw him back. Many thought about it, sighed, and said, I

think I do need a drink, skullfucker. Mike nodded. He pointed over to a table lined with a dozen different beer taps. The normal stuff, self service. I recommend the Wheat Hayes. Pretty mild, but it's good for stock humans like yourself. Many got up, grabbed a glass from a dispenser at the edge of the bar, and walked over to the beer table. Each keg had a thick strip of white tape across the front. The only details given

about each beer were vague, almost allegibly scrawled names. Many found two labels that both looked like they might say, wheat Hayes. He picked one at random, then headed back to the bar and sat next to Reggie. Mike looked impressed for some reason. Good choice, he said with a nod. Manny took a sip. It was really good, a mild pale ale with just a hint of sour. He leaned in and looked at the maps and scrolling updates on reggie screen. The journalist finished writing down a couple of

notes and shook his head. I'm really sorry, man, truly, he gestured towards the live map. This is so fucked. You're gonna stay here to cover the fall, Mike asked. Reggie shook his head. He looked frustrated. Got a message from my editor a bit ago, and they're trying to work out an extract for me. Gonna send a team at here to drive me west to El Paso. I guess it's not safe to fly out of Austin right now, so he trailed off. The three of them drank in

silence for a minute. Schoolfucker might gulp down the last of his glass and ordered another, along with three shots of bourbon. Manny started to turn down the shot, but it was soon apparent that Mike wanted all three shots for himself. He downed them all in the space of around a second, belched loudly, and then returned to staring at Reggie screen. Fuck, he sighed out again. Fuck it he fuck fuck. Manny was halfway through his beer when

Donald Ferris approached. The old documentarian wore a burgundy velvet waistcoat underneath a slightly battered but well tailored tweed jacket. He had a glass of probable whiskey at his hand and the soberst eyes Manny had seen that day. Hello, the gentleman school funcker, Mike, getting caught up on the latest catastrophes. All way yep, said Mike, how you been. The older man shrugged and took his seat at the table. He gulped his whiskey and looked down the table at Manny.

It was strange to see an actual old person this close up. The creases on his forehead and around his lips were so deep they could have been carved with a knife. There were spots on him, a clear sign he'd taken no juven treatments at all. His face had a deep, craggy richness that lent every word, he said, a certain vague majesty. Donald Ferris spoke, and Manny felt compelled to listen. You can hope this. You know who was stuck negotiating with the kingdom now, and they are

most recalcitrant. But the fucky quite a second, Reggie interrupted, fuckyans really. Donald and Mike exchanged a look, then a laugh. Donald replied, the city's not exactly famed for consistency. Almost any collective now and you can think of would be appropriate. He took another sip from his glass and set it down on the bar top with a clack. Donald Ferris leaned in at that and eyed the glasses. He rotated it around on the table. He tapped it again, smiled,

and looked back up to the group. Now, young man, let me explain why you should go risk your life on a daring and dangerous rescue mission. Manny grunted and shook his head reflexively defensive. I'd rather not talk about it right now, if that's cool, he said. I just woke up. This place is ridiculous, and I'm not going to decide to go into terrible danger because some old man gilt trips me at a bar. Suit yourself. Donald smiled, I can't imagine how stressful this is all bidden for you.

I'm a little surprised you'd choose to trip balls at a time like this. What do you mean, Manny asked, with growing anxiety. That's a white haze, right, I think Mike said it was a wheat haze, but I couldn't really read the labels. Shit, Mike cursed, while Donald Ferris fought back a laugh. What, Manny asked, Mike should have warned you. The wheat haze is normal alcohol. The white haze packs about two hits of the surgic diethyl acid. Put pint be anxious, not in. Manny's gut began to

pound in pulse. He looked to skullfucker Mike, furious. What the funk man? Mike winced, he looked genuinely rueful. I'm really sorry, he said. I'm not used to it making a difference. Most people here take two or three hits acid with their breakfast cigarettes. Oh shit. Manny slumped forward and put his head in his hands. He started to hyperventilate. The edges of his vision blurred, and Manny couldn't tell if that was from the drugs. Kicking in or just

a consequence of his own panic. He could feel Oscar's face hanging out just at the back of his mind, afloat on a river of guilt. He didn't want to know what a headful of acid would do with those feelings. I gotta get back to the room, he said, I can't handle that. Donald put a hand on his shoulder. He was stronger than Manny would have guessed. You've got a headful of surprise, I said, boy, the last thing you need is to sit in a dock room and

stew with your demons. He exchanged another look with skullfucker Mike and said, brain breakers ought to be kicking off right now. That's the place for a man in your condition. But started Manny, what the hell is that? Reggie asked, Wait, Manny continued. Donald ignored him and replied to Reggie, it's the best damn party on the continent, or at least the best one humans can attend and survive. I don't really want to, Manny started. Scoffucker Mike added his hand

to Manny's shoulder. You really do trust us on this. In the end, scofucker Mike and Donald convinced him to go. Reggie surprisingly opted to stay at the bar and continue his work. He said he was close to something. Manny really wished he chosen to come along. He didn't know the journalist well, but Mike and Donald were complete strangers. Manny was not looking forward to the drugs kicking in. He also was sure a giant rave room was the

best place for him to be when they did. As they approached it, many realized he'd seen the structure when they first arrived at the City of Wheels. Brain Breakers was a three story cube at the top of Rolling Fox highest gantry. The cube appeared to have been knitted together from long strands of black metal. Multi colored light pulsed inside it and bled out through the gaps and the knitted metal of the sides. Schoolfucker Mike led them down the gantry towards the cube. There didn't appear to

be any kind of entrance. The wall on this side was the same knitted steel as every other side, but once they reached it, Mike simply stepped into the wall. The woven metal writhed like something alive and curled back to admit the big post human. The metal tendrils caressed Mike's body. As he walked through, Manny flashed a questioning look at Donald. De it feels nice, he explained Manny side, exasperated and furious. Is this whole damned city built around

drugs and fondling? Yes? Donald grinned, a spidery old man grinned. Now inside with you, many sides swallowed and walked up to the wall. The metal, which felt surprisingly soft and warm, slithered around him, and mother of god, it felt good. That might have had something to do with the acid percolating in the back of his brain. The sensation was a cross between being tickled and being caressed. He was reminded, uncomfortably of his mother's stroking his forehead when he had

a fever as a child. And then he was through. It took him a moment to realize he was breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. It was then that Manny got his first view of the interior of Brain Breakers. It looked a little like a space station designed by m c esher with a drunken hr Geiger as the contractor. There were a half dozen different stages protruding at various levels from the walls. Three of the stages were currently occupied.

One performer was an enormous, seemingly sentient xylophone that pranced about on stage, playing itself with eight knob and arms. Another stage held four human looking individuals. They were all naked, and they were all fighting. Many watched and slack jawed awe as they punched in and kicked and choked each other. Every impact sent a chorus of warbling sounds pouring out from speakers at the base of the stage. The longer

he listened, the more hypnotic the music seemed. The third inhabited stage held what looked like a normal d J booth with a presumptive person behind it. Manny guessed that was the source of the bass, heavy rhythmic pounding that filled the square. The remaining stages were empty for now, but the place was so full of sound that Manny

couldn't imagine two more acts making things any louder. It was chaotic and confusing and a little uncomfortable, but after a few seconds, Manny started to pick up on an overarching rhythm. All three acts were making very different music at very different paces, but somehow it all tied together. The inner walls of the place were covered in projection art. Giant human sized silhouettes stalked the walls, floor, and roof. At times, they moved so fast they looked almost like

wisps of smoke. But here and there one would stop long enough for Manny to get a solid look. He saw several different figures. A tall, muscular but androgynous person, a small, lithe young woman, a broad squat man with a bald head. They danced around each other, flittering up and down the walls. Their pace in the nature of their motions varied depending on the tempo and pitch of the music nearest to them. It was mesmerizing. Manny stared

for what felt like minutes. The sensation of his body faded away from him, and his vision tunneled in on the dancing figures. Their dance had looked joyous and sensual at first, but the longer he watched, the more frenetic it seemed. The more danger he spotted in their jerking limbs, the arc of their necks, the uncontrolled way they spun round and into one another. Anxiety started to build in the pit of his stomach. And then there was a person beside him, Mike, Hey, Buddy. He grinned. The other

man's pupils were the size of dinner plates. He clenched and ground his teeth back and forth. It o'kaiefa, put a hand on your shoulder. Uh sure, Manny said, surprising himself. Cool Mike smiled and did so. His hand felt supportive, comforting. How you liken the party? Manny really wasn't sure it

was beautiful here. Now that skullfucker Mike had pulled his attention from the dancing silhouettes, he'd started to focus more in the crowds of people dancing and drinking and fucking across the assorted dance floors, cuttle spaces and bar tops of brain breakers. Most of the celebrants were visibly chromed.

He saw a woman with six arms, a couple of things he could only describe as dick centaurs, a man with the head of a dolphin, and countless people in bizarre costumes built of light and fur and liquid metal. It was hard to tell how much of this was real and how much of it was the drugs. The acid was hitting his head pretty damn hard. Skullfucker Mike squeezed his shoulders and brought Manny back again. The fixer blinked and then finally responded, it's a good, good, fucking great.

Let's get you some whippets and head over to the fireworks table. They're about to open it up fireworks inside. Mike laughed. It's hardly a party without explosives, brother, Just go with it in so many did. He and Mike did some whippets, which meshed gloriously with the acid. Then they stood up on stumbling feet and headed over to the fireworks table. Things seemed to be just getting started

over there. Manny inspected a few different brightly colored explosive toys before something burst next to his ear, and he looked up to see skullfucker Mike firing a massive Roman candle towards the musical, punching people on the stage. The sound of it, Holly hell, the sound it might have been the most compelling thing his ears had ever heard. The acid is definitely hitting hard now, Manny thought, Holy funk,

Holy funk, what is this? The rest of his night faded into a blur of lights and music and strange, indefinable sense memories. It was disorienting and exhilarating an equal measure. Hours went by the acid faded, and eventually Manny found himself on a bunch of cushions, sitting around a table with Skullfucker Mike and other Fuccians. He couldn't remember any of their names, but after a few minutes of relative lucidity, Manny was able to piece together that they were all

friends of the people who had been captured. One of the men, a bearded guy with multi jointed fingers the length and with the rulers, reached over Manny to grab a beer. He pulled it back, took a sip, and settled into his seat. My favorite memory of Marigold, he said, it's from back when we were still building this city, right after we stole the bagger. She got a hair up her ass that there ought to be a big purple clubhouse at the top for folks to do cocaine

in and watch sunsets. I remember she strapped an armed little wood to her back, grabbed a can of spray paint, took a big rail of meth, and just started climbing up the center spindle like she was gonna do the whole damn job herself. She got fucking stuck two thirds of the way up, just hanging out there with her panties in the breeze, screaming like a scared cat. Mike laughed, I remember that me and Topez had to climb up in freer and then she climbed the rest of the

way up and started laying down boards. Fingerman nodded, yeah, I remember when I climbed up there. An hour or so later. She's all frantic and fiddling with nails and bolts and turned to funk, but like making progress too, And I asked her, Marigold, why are you doing this? This ain't a one person job, and she said, I know, but unless I start building it, it'll never be real. There was quiet for a while. Many could feel the pain in the pause and see it on everyone's face.

He didn't want to say anything. He was pretty sure there was nothing worthwhile he could say. But then he spoke, anyway, can you tell me about the others, the other two who were captured. Another of Mike's friends, a tall black woman in a bright blue shark Onesie nodded and replied, Rick's a little dude, great painter and a pretty good pyrotechnician. He's no kind of fighter, but he's got a real sweet way about him. He puts people at ease, so he goes out on a lot of these delegations to

be a good face for the city. Marigold is always the main negotiator, but we sent Tulli out too. She's newish to the city. Used to be an activist in Albuquerque before the king took over and started boiling people. She's a good talker. We had her studying under Mary so she could pick up some of the load in the future. They're all good people, Fingerman added, Marigolds saved my life a few times back during the revolution. She helped found this place. It started out as just a

big caravan RVs and mobile hydroponics units. She'd find isolated communities bring him food and such. No government was much use back then, so for a lot of folks, Mary's caravan was the line between life and death. Yep, said skullfucker Mike. She's the one who found topaz in me. After the boss went missing. We were pretty lost, doing a lot of freelance violence, but not making anything, not building a damn thing. Marigold told us her vision for this big, stupid city got us hooked on the idea.

Many noticed tears at the corner of Skullfucker Mike's eyes that felt somehow wronged him. Someone so powerful and inhuman shouldn't be able to cry and make it look so normal. But there he was crying. And then, for the first time in the trip, the thing Manny had most feared happened. He thought about Oscar. He remembered a picnic he'd taken with the Stringer, his wife, Aisha, and their two kids. It had been a lovely spring day, one of the dozen ish days a year in Austin where the air

felt good on your skin. They drank cheap beer and eating hot dogs and watched the kayakers roll along the Colorado River. I sent him out there, and now he's probably dead. You know there's something else we share, Mike said, his voice low and somber. We've both spent way too much of our lives feeling helpless. Manny cocked a disbelieving eyebrow up at Skullfucker Mike. Yeah, the chrombed Man chuckled. I know what you're thinking, but you'd be surprised how

often the fancy hardware doesn't matter. Mike's face twitched and more tears poured down his face. He took a deep breath, fixed Manny with bloodshot puffy eyes, and spoke again. We all spend a lot of life helpless, so when you have a chance to do something to make a difference for someone personally, I recommend you fucking take it. Manny woke up the next day feeling out of place and vaguely unstuck from time. He could hear Reggie snoring on the next bed. The room was very dark and it

was impossible to tell what time it might be. Manny thought about activating his deck, but decided against it. There was something almost nauseating about the thought of being flooded with the outside world right now. He stood up and went outside to wander the spindles and gantries of rolling Fuck for a while. At one point a man walked by with a plateful of breakfast burritos, and so Manny

had breakfast. A little while later he found a self served coffee house stationed next to one of the Fondle boats, and so he had coffee. He was just starting to think about turning on his deck and welcoming in the world when Donald Ferris found him. Manny, my boy, I hope your ascid hangovers not too bad, Manny shrugged. I actually feel all right. It was a it was good and help me sort some things out. The older man smiled. I'm genuinely happy to hear that. There's nothing like a

headful of acid to help you see what's important. Now. Listen, I hate to interrupt your morning, but there have been some developments. None a Yazzie and I need to talk to you. Manny went with him back down into the main roller in that weird conference room where they'd met on his first in the city. There were more people there now. Nana Yazzi sat in the same spot at the end of the table. Reggie was there fiddling with

one of his screens. Schuffucker Mike sat next to him, and then at the other end of the table was a large black dude Manny had never seen before. He was muscular, but in the lean, wiry way of a construction worker or a particularly swollen hobo. He had a long, gaunt face with prominent sheet bones and an oft broken nose. His hands were big, there was something menacing about them, but his face was the least threatening thing in the world. His eyes were litted, half, focused and dreamy. His jaw

was just a little slack. He had short hair, stubble really, and a patchy six day beard. He looked stoned. Welcome, Nanny, said Nana Yazzi. She gestured towards the big man. This is Rowland. If you choose to help us rescue your people, he'll be your escort into the Heavenly Kingdom and your escape plan. Donald shut the door behind them, walked around to the other side of the table and sat down next to Nana Yazzi. We've tried to give you. I'm in space on this, he said, but I'm afraid both

of those things are running out. All our intelligence suggests the Heavenly Kingdom is very close to another roll out assault. They'll move on Waco in four or five days. It could be outside of Austin in a week's time. You are free to make whatever call you want, or offer to fly you to Austin. Still stands, Miho, said Nana Yazzi. But I am afraid we need you to make a decision. Now, I'll do it, Manny said. Almost everyone looked surprised. Donald coughed.

Nana Yazzi's eyes went wide. Reggie did a double take. Schoolfucker. Mike just smiled and nodded at Manny. Roland didn't look as if he'd been affected in any way. In fact, Manny was pretty sure he was drumming along to some music only he could hear. It might have been Ronnie James Dio's Holy Diver. Hey, I'm Robert Evans. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope you enjoyed the chapters to come. You can find the free e pub of every chapter and eventually the whole book at a t

r book dot com, complete with illustrations. If you want to support me in writing the sequel, you can crowdfund me at After the Revolution the Sequel at go fund me. Just type and go fund me after the Revolution the Sequel. Um. I'd like my books to always be free, so I'm just going to try to crowdfund the next one and see how that works. So After the Revolution the Sequel on go fund me. You can also find the community of fans of this book online at our slash after

the Revolution on Reddit. So after the Revolution the Sequel on go fund me and our slash after the Revolution on Reddit. A t r book dot com for the whole book thanks