STANDARD DISCLAIMER: All characters and situations related to the Escape from New York and Escape from LA films are wholly owned by Paramount Pictures.  The story is mine.

Rated: NC17

DON'T CALL ME  SNAKE

TOMORROW....

In the year 2013, life was the human race knew it, was at an end.

Its arrival was unlike anything anyone had expected. Contrary to the belief of religions across the planet, there was no Armageddon or day of Judgment.  Neither was there a nuclear fireball, or a terrible environmental catastrophe often prophesied by so many.  The age of mankind did not come to a swift demise like that of the dinosaurs.  In fact, one could question if it was an end at all, instead of rebirth.

The end or rebirth, whatever one might like to call it, came almost like an afterthought, like a silent stalker creeping into night.   It was unexpected, completely surprising actually and without any warning whatsoever.  No ominous plotting of politics or some brewing dissent somewhere in the world.  After it was all said and done, when the day had come and gone, the survivors who remained in its wake, were ore astonished than afraid of the days to come.

Most people had no idea what an Electro-Magnetic Pulse was. 

In the days to come, this would change.  They would come to know it very well when their cars refused to move, their appliances lay dead and their telephones and television sets cut them off from everyone else.  Eventually they would come to understand that two hundred years of electricity, internets, cappuccino makers and BMWs were gone.  For the first time in their lives, it was necessary to learn to cook without a microwave, to communicate by some other means other than telephone or computer.  Mankind had lived, but all that made him masters of the planet was gone.

It should have made things simpler, but it did not.

The descent into the dark age was swift.  With the realisation of the catastrophe, came the initial panic and fear. In the United States, the most powerful nation in the world, the deterioration was at its apex.  Its government scrambled to consolidate his realm by force, imposing martial law to deceive people into believing it had some plan to deal with the chaos when it was just as dumbstruck.  The following days were of bloodshed from the enforcers as well as new savages who discovered the power they had now that civilian authorities were in disarray.  In the end, the heavy handed soldiers, armed with terrible weapons, which ironically were the only thing that still worked, imposed martial law and were seen no better than the savages looting and pillaging freely.  The revolt that followed was a taste of things to come.

A new leader was appointed to bolster public confidence in the dying regime, but it did little to stymie the flood of disaster.  Rampant paranoia and fear brought out the savage worst in everyone.  Local government disintegrated as old axioms began to exert themselves on years of civilisation "the survival of the fittest" became a prerequisite of the new future.   The population began scrambling for resources and food.  Without its vast communication network, the government was unable to consolidate any authority over its national boundaries.  People began killing to survive and once that began, it was difficult to stop.  Ordinary citizens armed themselves with weapons, now easily available to all, since high security systems keeping them contained were not disabled.   The death toll began to rise steadily and inevitably the entire infrastructure collapsed upon itself like a house of cards.  Some  would argue that the infrastructure had been in danger of such a demise for a long time.

The Electromagnetic Pulse, or now simply called the Pulse, just moved things along faster.

It was in the depths of the collapse that a group of nameless thugs, whomever they might have been or whatever colours they may have worn, broke into a maximum security containment area.  They found a group of terrified lab technicians who had stayed because they understood the threat they were attempting to contain now that the Pulse had destroyed all their security systems.  It took little effort for the thugs to murder these unfortunate souls, who remained because they still believed in the sanctity of life, despite the carnage beyond the walls of their fortress.  With blood still fresh on their hands, they destroyed the place, exalted by the raw power they now possessed. Driven by rage, paranoia, greed and all the things very much the ideology of the old days, they smashed everything once forbidden to them.  Most of them were high on the drugs they'd looted from the pharmaceutical section of the building, caring little of the words emblazoned on walls everywhere.  They knew nothing of what the place had been before the Pulse, knowing that the building was in ruination and thus ripe for plunder.

The canisters and vials looked like more candy for their addiction and when they were smashed, their glass shards flew in all directions across the steel floor.  Their contents escaping like trapped wraiths, riding the air molecules as they travelled throughout the building, finding warmth in the living bodies around it and allowing it to be carried to the sunshine outside.  The vandals left soon after, unaware of the things they carried, unaware of what they had done.

The building called CDC had little meaning to them.

The virus Ebola Zaire had less.

Once released, the pestilence travelled quickly.  With little effort, it soon mutated and the worst fears of those dead lab technicians came to pass as Ebola took the city of Atlanta with more devastation that an ancient General Ulysses S Grant ever could.  People began to get sick almost overnight and these numbers expanded geometrically as bloody corpses began to appear everywhere. As more and more people fell victim to it, panicked inhabitants scrambled to leave the city unaware that they were carrying Ebola to new victims

Within a month of its escape, Ebola Zaire had reached epidemic proportions.  It was found on the cool beaches of the New England coast, to the heat of the Nevada desert.  Fleeing masses overcame geographical boundaries that once kept Ebola contained.  Its reach had little limitations, although its effects were varying.  Seventy to eight percent of those who captured it died quickly, because Ebola's communicability was a 100%.  Once infected, a victim could expect to die in a matter of days.  Most did die quickly, drowning on their own blood as it began to seep from every orifice.  These would die gasping in agony until the very end.

Some did recover, suffering only an acute fever that dissipated after a few days.  Unfortunately, these were few in number.  In the end, Ebola reached the Canadian borders as well as the Mexican borders and found itself new victims in tow different ends of the continent.  It was highly likely that someone could have formulated a vaccine if there had been anyone to give a damn.

Two years after Ebola had escaped, its last victim was claimed.  Yet its toll on the human race was harsh. The populations of the North and South American Continents had dwindled to a third of what it once was.

If there was any consolation to be found in this calamity, it was the fact that its survivors were left with a deeper appreciation of life and survival.  Most were appreciative of the second chance where so many dead had none.  Small communities began to emerge, some good, some violent and some there were communities at all, but small urban centres where people simply lived. Some areas had les than that.  The numerous nuclear reactors across the nation, robbed of its power supply had reached critical and the following meltdowns destroyed  almost as effectively as Ebola Zaire, if not more.  Its radiated dead,  bleaching their bones in the lethal nuclear winter.

In South America, men who were used to taking control by force and violence, found themselves the new leaders of the second dark age.  Large plantations across the lush, green continent were used to harvest food crops for the first time in almost a hundred years.  Its drug overlords finding out that food was an even more profitable opiate than cocaine or heroine.

Across the ocean, all was silent.

In Europe, the catastrophe had effected the continentals just as badly as it had done in the Americas.  However, Ebola Zaire did  not reach its shores and thus, they fared a little better.  Accustomed to disaster in the wake of three world wars conducted on their home soil, Europeans knew how to handle difficult times.  When the Pulse had come and gone, they had taken a deep breath, clenched their fists and readied themselves to repair the damage.  City states were formed in Europe where there was talk of trading, but these were largely rumour.

In the Middle East, the Arabs and the Israelis returned to their Bedouin pasts.  The lack of western dollars for their oil had crippled them as surely ash their vanished technology.  However, the denizens of the Middle Eastern desert sands were a hardy people and it did not take them long to recuperate.  For the first time in hundreds of years, the Bedouin caravans travelled the desert again. Camels had replaced cars and the oases became the new cities.

Others did not fare so well.  In China, the burdens of its massive population sounded a death knell in the famine that followed.  With the destruction of modern transport, the mysterious oriental nation found itself unable to feed its people.  Food supplies that normally came from foreign shores ceased to exist.  To survive in the modern world China had sacrificed its agricultural past would now die for it.  Meanwhile its neighbour, India, has guarded its borders, protecting their vast rice fields from Chinese raiders.

In Oceania, Australia and New Zealand, both self sufficient countries in all its vital necessities, moved quickly to protect its borders.  Having the foresight to protect itself from the Pulse, it did not descent utterly into chaos and some semblance of civilised society remained.  Although, not enough to help their wounded neighbours.  Its waters were soon mined, its leaders perceptive enough to prevent the massive influxes of refugees from entering its shores.

In the midst of all the destruction and suffering, no one asked the question.

How did it all begin?

Most no longer cared, it was too late to assign blame or ask for retribution.  Some did remember, some who remembered the last time they watched  a television set and recalled a curious drama unfolded before them, prior to the end.  They would have remembered a man and a rescue.  They would also remember an American President on the brink of plunging the world into another war.  They would have seen a President who'd slipped over the edge of sanity as he chose to sacrifice his daughter to the madness of his meaningless cause.

They would remember the man who made the final decision.  A man who never cared about decisions until faced with this particular moment and found the world in his hand, and it was his choice to save it or let it die.  Whether he was a saviour or a murderer, will be for the history makers to decide, if such things are ever recorded again, for he h himself, knew not which he was.

Nor would he have cared.

What he did know, was he had looked at the world in his hands and seen a ten thousand years of civilisation dissolving to a moment, where a president was willing to sacrifice his child in his quest for endless greed and power.  He saw it in that one instance, that humanity had forgotten himself, mired in the filth of powerful men like this.  It occurred to him that perhaps it was time to remember who they were again.

To remember why the human race had been what it was.

Sometimes, when technology and ideology eclipsed the decent heart of what was right and wrong, it became necessary to shut it all off.  And after he had done that, after the Pulse took its place in history, if such things are ever recorded again, when the world slipped into the silence of child prior to its first cry from the womb, Snake Plissken's thoughts were of one thing.

Welcome back to the human race. 

CHAPTER ONE

This was the noblest Roman of them all,

All the conspiracies save only he

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar

He only in general honest thought,

And common good to all made one of them

His life was gentle and the elements

So mixed in him that nature might stand up

And say to all the world, "This was a man."

William Shakespeare

I

The night was deadly silent. 

The road it overlooked, seemed even more silent.

There was a time when this road was a centre of activity.  It an artery that pumped life with holiday makers, truck drivers and just plain ordinary folk.  They all converged together in a community of travellers moving from one place to another, journeying in a seemingly endless cycle.  In those days, the highway was seldom dark.  There would always be light in one shape or form, to illuminated its bitumen surface for all those who travelled upon the road. Sometimes the lights would come from headlights.  Other times, from campervans parked on the side of the road, truck stops along the way or even windblown dust, sparkling from the glow of moving vehicles. There was always the presence of the living then.  Those days were ancient, neither were they steeped in a lifetime away.  There were some that still remembered those days even now, when this road was a main highway across the Great Rockies, taking travellers from Washington State to the Canadas.

Most of those travellers might as well be dead.  Well, most of them were anyway.

The only things that remembered the glorious past with any longevity were the tall, green redwoods that flanked the winding passageway of tar and rock.  In the darkness, their majesty seemed more imposing than awesome. Like an ever looming black tide threatening to overtake that last remnant of the past.  In some ways, it was almost poetic. For centuries' man had ploughed his way through this land in one way or another, raping the land for all he was able to take from it.  Now man was almost as rare as the trees and the forests he almost destroyed.

Once, a traveller could see the lights of the great city of Seattle. Its urban light would illuminate the skies as brightly as a thousand stars as one cast their gaze to the East, above the peak of the tallest conifers.  Tonight, like very night since the Pulse, that magical glow was replaced by a blackness that seem to blind all things to its blanket thickness.  The nights now, were of prevailing and unyielding silences, of dark nights were life was completely still.  It should have been the nights that people could dream of better times with its peace and serenity, instead its resounded desolation and emptiness which felt cold and unsettling.

There was a time, not so long ago when he fit comfortably into the night, when its darkness and isolation did little to effect him.  He was a man accustomed to all the dark and vile things the night had to offer.  Most of his life had been spent on the edge, riding the periphery between chaos and insanity.  Moments like these used to symbolise the rare periods of calm in his life.  Back then, silence and stillness used to mean the interlude from one set of circumstances to another.  Often those circumstances were none of his doing and his life, often a roller coaster ride, never allowed him to catch his breath before throwing him head long into another situation.

Now these interludes never seemed to end.  Throughout the years, he had learnt to accept the loneliness and solitude in the manner in which he chose to live his life.  In the past, he cared for little for anything or anyone, believing the only cause he should be passionate about was his won survival.  There was however one exception. After it, everywhere he looked from that day on, saw the consequences of that one exception staring back at him with an accusing eye.  There were people who reminded him of his actions, some who even pointed fingers of blame at him, though they seldom lived long enough to enjoy the satisfaction of their self righteous arrogance.

It was never wise to get on Snake Plissken's bad side.

The engines of the Harley Davidson Chopper he found abandoned in some nameless town, further back in his travels, roared loudly as it moved down the winding highway. In the silence of the night, the drone sounded unearthly and out of place.  Weaving through the darkness on this open and forgotten highway, it stuck in his mind that he could not recall the last time he had seen another human being.  It was nearly a week since he had seen anything resembling a modestly populated town or even a group of people.  He supposed he could see people if he chose to take a route through the cities, but these days it was best to avoid any previously large metropolitan area.  Local warlords with delusions of grandeur kept their savagery poised to maintain their new found power.  The few cities he had visited had become pits of primal savagery where survival was decided by the weapons of the victor.

Then he had heard about Sanctuary.

Snake still wondered if his quest to find it was a fool's errand. He didn't know whether it existed in reality, or there would be a place for someone like him in a place like that.  The rumours he heard spoken about it, painted a picture about a place governed by decent people who had managed to avoid the warlord trap so many other places had fallen prey.  It was a community where everyone did they best they could, getting by in the wreck of the world.

Snake liked the sound of that.

Perhaps he was getting old.  When he looked into a mirror, he knew he didn't look old, just worn.  An observer would see a man in his late thirties, with dark brown shoulder length hair worn tousled, with an eye patch covering one of two ice cold blue eyes.  He was ruggedly handsome, sporting a perennial day's grown on his jaw with finely chiselled features. Often wearing black leather, Snake Plissken was the stuff of notorious legend and the way he lived his life had made him the stuff of myths. Most people he met had an idea who he was, a few even knew about what he did, most however chose to keep their distance which suited him just fine.  He had enough enemies without having to look out for them past every corner. 

The Canadian border was  about a day's travelling away and Snake didn't need to travel that far.  The Harley was the only thing on the road and had been for the last hundred miles, so Snake could push the cycle at top speeds with little fear of anything getting in his way.  There was still enough gas in his tank to take him all the way to Bellingham, which was just as well because he didn't intend to stop tonight. He didn't know much about this area and saw little reason to look around.

If there was one thing Snake had learned well in the last couple of years, it was the wisdom in selecting a good place to bunk down at nights. With the supplies he had on his cycle, he was a tasty target to a someone who had less.  Nowadays, that category included most of the surviving population. It had taken him two years to get this far up the country and now that he had a destination in mind, he was determined to get there alive.

The day after the Pulse had been an interesting one for Snake.  The President of the United States had demanded his head on a platter, even though the rest of the country was beginning its long descent into hell and resources were served better elsewhere.  With a moment of passing curiosity, Snake wondered briefly what happened to the man.  He had disappeared into the woodwork of hysteria and left the city far behind.  Occasionally he had come across local law enforcement who actually believe there was a justice system left to bring him into and often died in the attempt. This was early on though, when most of the population had yet to realise the magnitude of the changes to come.  They still believed there would be a world left for things like trials and prisons to matter any more.  In some ways, it was almost ironic, considering his history.

Seventeen years ago, Snake Plissken had been arrested for armed robbery at the Federal Repository, the details of which he could barely recount as important any more.  The only thing he did remember of that incident was his best friend Taylor had been shot dead.  Snake had stood by and let it happen, unable to do anything to stop it.

For the crime, Snake was sentenced to life imprisonment in New York State Penitentiary.  While he didn't look forward to his sentence, Snake enjoyed a certain reputation that would have protected him in the instance he actually arrived on the island.  Besides he knew how to bide his time and escape when the moment was at hand. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it.  Fate chose to throw an unexpected card into the game with the crash of Airforce One into the prison.  Snake found himself before Bob Hauke, the supreme commander of the United State Police force who offered him a deal.  At first, Snake couldn't believe his good luck. Hauke was going to give him a glider to fly into New York City and retrieved the President who was being held hostage there.   Snake had never any intention of going through with the plan.  He had given up any loyalty to the god and country long before this.  Agreeing only because he intended to steal the plane and make good another Snake Plissken escape.

His underestimation of Bob Hauke was one of the few mistakes he never quite got over. Who knew the bastard was so sneaky, for a cop? Under the guise of vitamin supplement or some bullshit story like that, Snake allowed himself to be injected by a doctor on the premises.  Not until after the shots were administered, did Hauke triumphantly tell him that he had been injected with explosive pellets that would detonate in 24 hours.  And the clock was ticking.

The maelstrom that followed became a part of the Snake Plissken legend.

Within a space of twenty-four hours, he entered the maximum security prison and found a world of degenerates and thugs.  Street gangs had become the only law in a decaying city of lost souls.  It was a place where women and gasoline were traded and used as the ultimate form of currency.  It was a place Snake had barely made it out alive.  He did what he had ordered to do, bringing the President out of there alive and acquiring the information so necessary for the end of the war raging at the time.

After that, there were Presidential pardons, job offers and all kinds of media attention after that.  He took advantage of some of it, made a few bucks on the side.  His persona and dark brooding manner made him a legend and there were people who always wanted to shake hand with a legend.  Someone even wanted to make a movie but thankfully, by then he had more than enough of his fill of the high life and decided it was time to leave.

When he was far enough away from it all, far away from the cameras and Bob Hauke.  Snake wandered into some out of the place bar in the middle of nowhere, to have himself a beer.  Sitting down in the darkness of the place, lost in anonymity, he drank a toast to those who didn't quite make it out of New York. The unsung heroes whom he would somehow managed to survive. The story of his life.

Though he was pretty mad at Harold Helman, or Brain as he was called in New York, Snake thought wit a sad smile, there was a time Snake considered him a buddy.  Watching him die just minutes away from freedom had hurt Snake when he believed it was impossible for anything to hurt him again.  At the time there was little opportunity for Snake to express grief, especially with the explosive capsules inside him reaching detonation. However, he had few friends in his life, seeing Brain died was as hard as any other.

Then there was Maggie.

Maggie who was Brain's girl.  Maggie, whom he had not forgotten since the day he met her and likely to remember until the day he died.  Maggie had been a gift from the Duke of New York, the self named ruler of the prison.  Until Brain's death, the beautiful and somewhat earthy woman became his constant companion during his tenure in New York.  Something always touched Snake's jaded soul whenever he though about her. While they had shared nothing together or never could have, his thoughts of late had been about her.  Especially during those last moments of her life, when she had seen Brain's broken body die with her dreams of their life outside the prison. He had the impression that it was Maggie's drive and intellect that made Brain as important as he was in New York.  Snake wondered if the asshole knew it or not just how much she did love him.  Maggie had loved him enough to believe that any life beyond the walls of New York wasn't worth living without it.  Even a life of freedom.  Snake wondered what it was like to have a woman care that much for him.

There were other players as well.  Cabbie, the fading old taxi driver who still drove the streets looking for fares and the girl he is spoken to in a gutted out coffee shop in the heart of the ruined city.  None of them had made it out alive.  Meeting him had assured their deaths.  Snake spent most of the night in that bar, in the middle of nowhere, downing beers and toasting them all, knowing that it was cold comfort in the light of day. People rarely stayed in his life for too long and Snake wished that was different too.  He had obtained used to losing people a long time ago, especially after Leningrad.  Nearly everyone he had ever called a friend had died there.  Forty-eight men whom he would shared more than most people did in a lifetime had died in that last mission. Snake knew every one of them, knew their names, where they had come form.   He had awaken in those EVAC hospital days later, with one eye useless. Taylor, his best friend had been at his bedside and told him that the others were all dead and the mission had been a ruse.  Forty-eight men who were his friend had died for nothing. 

So Snake Plissken the war hero came home. 

What was left of home any way.  He came home to find strangers living in his house,  a brand new family invading the Plissken home.  He would discover that his parents were dead, killed in a hostage shout at some local restaurant.  The cops had botched the negotiations and that resulted in his parents being blown away by some two bit hood with too much artillery. After their deaths, the family home had been confiscated by the state and sold. So much for a homecoming.

Their deaths had been the last straw. He had a uniform, a bad e ye, two purple hearts left from a lifetime of service and the deaths of too many people on his conscience. It drove Snake over the edge of what people perceived as normal.  After that he did not give a fuck about anything any more.  Least of all the authorities or the governments who had done this thing to him in the first place.  Being a war hero in a war America, didn't win, didn't make him a hero either.

Now the world outside was no better than New York or Los Angeles. It did not take people long to revert to baser instincts and take up past savageries thinly hidden under the veneer of civility.  The disintegration was almost as complete as if those people had been criminal or moral degenerates.  It only reinforced Snake's notion that there were no good people left, just those who could hide it better.

He travelled up the west coast for the last two years, keeping Canada in mind as a possible destination. With Ebola Zaire running loose around the country, Snake thought it would be wise staying away from populated areas thus reducing his chances of contracting the disease.  Unfortunately there was no real safe place any where from a virus like Ebola and Snake Plissken contracted it almost a year ago.  Despite his precautions, he had inadvertently entered a town in the  midst of an outbreak.  Even though he had vacated the area promptly, he was unable to escape the disease.

For days Snake Plissken thought he was going to die.  He found himself a deserted gas station and collapsed there, convinced he was finally done for.  There was a moment  he had considered ending it with a bullet, sparing himself the agony to come.  Strangely enough, he felt neither rage or defiance at the dying to come, accepting that he had been living on borrowed time for some years now as it was.  However, the desire in him to live was too strong to enable him to depart mortality that way and Snake decided to fight until the very last minute.

After days of dehydration and delirium, after the fever had burned him alive inside out, Snake miraculously started feeling better. A week after it began, Snake found he was able to stand up and actually keep food down.  Somehow, he had managed to become one of those lucky few who contracted Ebola Zaire and recovered with the only mildest of symptoms.   Surviving that ordeal was a watershed moment in his life and decided his present course of action.

Realising how close he would come to dying and how his survival was a second chance,  Snake decided he was not going to waste it.  He was going to find himself a place where he could just live, without danger of some asshole trying to kill him or cut deals.  Snake saw that goal in the Canadian mountains where he could disappear in the good clean air, without people and lots of solitude.

It was not that he did not want human companionship, but the years after the Pulse had not been kind.  There was always someone out there who wanted to kill him on sight, or steal his boots or some other thing he had.  Snake wanted to live where he didn't have to watch his back all the time, although that had become second nature with him.  Occasionally he stopped in a town, shared a night or two with a woman who was willing.  There were always some who was eager to accommodate him. He could have stayed long enough to forge bonds he supposed, but usually the women he came across were more enamoured by the legend than they were of him and his thoughts would inevitably return to Maggie.

He never did have much luck with women.

When he was in the military, he paid for most of them and the last time he had anything resembling a relationship was probably in high school.  After he came home from the war and the subsequent event that followed, his interaction with the opposite sex was fleeting.  Truth was, Snake didn't want an easy lay or a woman who'd look at him and see no difference between him and her last lover.  Nor did he want someone who was more interested in the Snake Plissken legend than she was of him.

He wanted someone like Maggie.

Maggie was a lady, even in New York.  He often thought about her, because he felt that they were kindred spirits somehow.  Maggie was like him, a survivor. Doing what was necessary, with whatever was at hand with a no nonsense attitude that impressed Snake.  He would never see it in any other female since.  There was Taslima, a good looking and exotic beauty he met in Los Angeles, who made a pass at him in a big way after he had saved her life.  If he had not been so pressed for time, he might have been able to get to know her before she died in his arms, less than an hour later.

Christ Plissken, you're getting sentimental.

That thought ran through his mind more than once as he sped down the darkened highway.  There were no longer any cars on the road, so his complete attention the road was not really necessary.  Besides, it did good to be able to reflect on things, especially since there  was little else to see or do on a motorcycle as he continued onward to Sanctuary.

If it even existed.

The man who told him about Sanctuary to begin with, was pretty convinced that the place existed.  He had died soon after their encounter, but what he told Snake was worth the journey.  After all, Vancouver Island was in Canada and Snake was heading in that general direction.  A detour would not be too much of an inconvenience considering that there wasn't anything pressing in his future that he had to hurry.  If the man was on the level about Sanctuary, then it was worth a few days of his time.

According to Garrick, Sanctuary was managed by a group of ordinary people who had somehow escaped the descent into anarchy.  They had built an organised society from the ruins, following the Pulse and Ebola Zaire.  Garrick who possessed an old style valve transmitter radio which was almost ancient in its use of valves instead of integrated circuits had somehow escaped the Pulse.  He received a transmission from someone on the island. The discovery was more of a fluke than an actual directed broadcast and that Garrick had been contacted at all was just plain luck.  He did however learn enough to leave the safety of his Portland home and start towards Sanctuary, where he crossed Snake's path.

His claims for Sanctuary seemed a little too good to be true and Snake was dubious that it was the Utopia it was mean to be.   However, the fact that no warlord or power monger was killing people at a whim did make it attractive.   Although he doubted everything was as harmonious as it sounded, Snake was led to believe that it was a place he could hang for a while before moving on.  A more permanent arrangement would depend on what he found when he actually arrived there.

Putting down roots was likely a knee jerk reaction to almost dying of Ebola those months ago. However there were also other reasons that Snake was looking for a place where he could live his life without fear of anyone or anyone of him. He certainly wasn't as young as he used to be and the crushed dreams and hopes of his youth didn't sting as much as he used.  He certainly wasn't as angry at everything as he was before and after awhile one comes to accept that things are the way they are. He'd lived his entire life saying fuck off to anyone who ever tried to cross him.  It wasn't an unpleasant life.  There were good times, but the bad times were more often the case. He'd spent years dodging bullets, making deals and trying to escape from one place to another, fighting causes he never chose to fight.  When he detonated the Pulse, one of the reasons was because it was the ultimate act of escapism, to screw those who'd tried to screw him and make sure they'd never be in a position to do it again.

Some could say it was overkill

Snake didn't think so.  Besides, he rarely did things in halves. His actions despite the magnitude of its repercussions were not only to teach the assholes a lesson but also to satisfy his sense of justice.  Ever since New York, justice was something he saw very little of and Snake didn't think he was the only one who missed its presence.  When he detonated the Pulse, he wanted a little justice for Maggie, Brain and all those others who had died underfoot of men with power.  Even Utopia, the President's misguided daughter had searched for the same things.  She had actually believed turning over the Pulse to someone like Cuervo Jones would even out the balance.

Snake hoped, with uncharacteristic sincerity, wherever she was, she had found a little peace of her own.

He wasn't afraid to admit that perhaps he was getting a little mellow in his age.  It certainly didn't show.  He still moved through life with an almost disinterested view of everything and a look of indifference which gave him an edge.   On occasion, he even enjoyed surprising people with his depth.  He knew he had surprised Utopia when he released her in the end.  No, Snake Plissken was still Snake Plissken. A hard edged, dangerous son of a bitch who didn't give a shit about much except himself.

Unless he felt like it.

Maybe he wanted to see what Sanctuary was life, more out of curiosity than anything else.  There wasn't much in  him that still had faith in anything, but if for one instance he could see detonating the Pulse wasn't a waste of time for the human race, then the detour would be well worth it.  After so many years alone, seeing what had happened after that fateful decision, he needed to convince himself that it wasn't all a big mistake.  Even if it was, there wasn't much he could do about it anyway.  Fortunately, conscience was not something Snake had trouble dealing with.

Either way, he wanted to kick back for awhile and relax.  After all, everyone needed a vacation now and then. 

Even Snake Plissken.

CHAPTER TWO

I

He crossed into Washington County in the small hours of morning.

The sun started to make its usual appearance over the fringes of the Rocky Mountains when Snake Plissken was less than an hour away from the Canadian border.  Fortunately, the rest of his journey would not take him across the great dividing range that separated the continental United States and Canada. In fact, he would make his entrance into Canadian territories, by way of the sea and small town called Bellingham on the coast.

Once upon a time, he had dreamed of flying to Canada in a stolen Gulf Fire glider. However, travelling through the splendid forests that obscured the States and Canadian boundaries, it seemed so pointless now.  Even though he couldn't see them, he could imagine the abandoned immigration and custom check points that were once heavily guarded by both.  Like everything else to do with the old ways, that too was forgotten, serving as relics of a bygone age.

The irony of it didn't escape him when Snake Plissken drove past the abandoned gas stations, truck stops and neglected streets signs indicative of a major road way, all faded and in ruin. It was a sad reminded to what was now gone.  Snake ignored the nostalgia he felt as he moved past these things, choosing to focus his attention on getting to Bellingham, the heart of Whatcom country, Washington.

He could smell the slight tinge of sea air, intermingling with the fragrance of pine cones and resin.  Even if he couldn't see the ocean, he knew it was just beyond the cover of the tall, red conifers densely populating this part of the countryside.  He didn't have to far go and expected to reach Bellingham in the next hour or so.  There was still no sign of anyone on the road still, although human presence more evident now, by several tell tale signs.

He had passed by several homes that looked inhabited and cared for with smoke rising steadily out of their chimney stacks.  Occasionally a beacon of light would call out to him through the dissipating darkness. All of it was comforting in its own way with an aura of peace that always impressed him about this area.  He could also understand why everyone chose to stay indoors.  It was a cold morning and even though he was well insulated within his long, thick leather coat and flame retardant clothes, he could still feel the cold wind biting in places.

His plans were simple, pending no new situation arose when he reached the town of Bellingham.  He was no stranger to Bellingham, having been here almost a lifetime ago.  It was during the days when he was still a serving officer in the United States Army.  Snake and his best friend Taylor, had taken leave in the coastal tourist town.  Taylor was from Bellingham, born and bred. When they had first met, this place was all the bastard could talk about.

Bellingham was like Taylor. Peaceful and sedate.  It was the type of place where one could go fishing, see bears and all that nature crap that Snake despised so much when he was younger.  He had never been a nature lover, lusting after the excitement of the cities and the adventurers he could find beyond his home town.  When he was still in that game, Snake had thought trees and mountains were put down for cover and not much else. Christ, he had been an asshole in those days.

Youngest man to be decorated by the President, Snake almost laughed in disgust.

From what he remembered about Bellingham, it was a coastal town with an active tourist industry that depended entirely on its national parkland.  There was also a scattering of resort islands off the coast and of course, regular passageway to Vancouver Island.  Even though Snake doubted the existence of boating services still in operation around Bellingham now, those boats should still be there.  Snake had every intention of liberating one for himself.

He reached Bellingham shortly after that.  The last leg of his journey saw the highway winding alongside the jagged edge of the coast and Snake was treated to some spectacular scenery as he neared the town.  Below him, the wind lashed at the cliff face, creating froth as angry waves smashed against rock.  The scent of brine and fish were stronger now, wafting on the molecules of cold air.

Despite the fact the sun was shining clearly  in the blue morning sky, when Snake finally drove into Bellingham, it still felt damp and miserable.  The winter months at this time of the year make everything look bleak and desperate.  If there was any consolation to the awful weather, it was the fact that at least it wasn't foggy as hell, which it was notoriously for doing in this part of the country.

The town was very middle America, even though it was a coastal fishing village in Snake's opinion.  It was one of those places, with one library and a local museum chronicling the first settlers and celebrated a holiday for a historical even important only to them.  As Snake approached it, he could see the abandoned boats, floating across the shore line and wharf where the main fishing and cruise industry used to centre.  Most of these were useless. Obsolete because of the electronic circuitry within their outboard motors.

Snake paid close attention to this as he took the main road into town.  There were obvious signs of the Pulse effects on the town, cars remain motionless, covered in dirt and dust after they wee pushed to the side of the road.  These cars were all in their prime, sleek examples of modern automotive engineering and totally useless, as everyone seventh grader was aware now, because of their electronic circuits.  The fact that the cars were pushed aside was a good sign however, some one had tried to clear the road. This indicated to Snake that the locals did attempt to rebuild some aspects of their town.

The roar of his cycle tore through town as he made his way towards the wharf. People were starting to emerge from various places.  Most of the shops and houses looked deserted, but others were well maintained and the smoke rising out of its chimneys gave away the population of this sleep town.  Like this, it did not look any different from any other quiet country town scattered across the American country side.

A man appeared with a shot gun in his hands. Snake decided to continue onwards nevertheless, choosing to see what the man intended before taking appropriate actions.  The man was middle aged, whose family Snake noticed were cowering through the windows of the house he was trying to guard.  Suddenly Snake's suspicion was disarmed somewhat, because he knew what the man was trying to do.

Pulling the cycle to a halt, Snake moved carefully, showing the man he meant no harm. Snake pulled alongside the man who had not raised his gun to fire, but held it primed in case he made any sudden moves. Snake didn't really believe that there was any real trouble, guessing that man was more probably more afraid of him than anything else. He looked like he had a family to protect and Snake couldn't begrudge him that.

"Easy," Snake replied once the cycle had come to a halt next to the man. Snake brushed aside his long coat because it didn't hurt to show the man that he was just as well armed. A glint of steel from the semi automatic hand gun in its holster around his thigh, was more than enough to convince the man he could protect himself if necessary.  "Easy,  I'm just passing through. I'm looking for a boat."

At that, the man relaxed visibly and loosened his grip on the twelve gauge.  Glancing back at his family, he put their anxious faces to rest with a quick wave.  The man was in his forties, with hard lined hands and face, which told Snake right away he was a fisherman.  Dark greying hair and brown eyes looked at him with obvious relief even though Snake thought he was a little too trusting to take Snake on his word.

"Sorry about that," he apologised, gesturing to shot gun.  "Can't be too careful these days. A lot strange people move through here.  Some are okay, some aren't.  Man's got to be careful of his family, you know?"

"Yeah," Snake shrugged looking around. A few other people had emerged from their homes.  Most of them looked at Snake with a mixture curiosity and caution, but their suspicion had withered considerably since Snake had made his peace overtures.  They were a motley looking bunch, no different from any other than he'd come across in his travels.

"Name's Isaac Ross," The man introduced himself, extending a hand. "You're heading to Sanctuary?"

Snake rose a brow at the mention of the name. "You know it?"

Behind Isaac his wife, a rather dowdy looking woman dressed heavily in flannel and boots, made her appearance with a rosy cheeked boy of ten.  She walked quietly next to her husband with her gaze fixed firmly on Snake.  Obviously finding him a little difficult to rust.

"Yeah sure," Isaac continued, oblivious to his wife's arrival.  "Some of em come down here now and then to get supplies and stuff.  Invited me and the family to join em a few times, but we're pretty happy here.  Most of the time its peaceful and my family has been here for generations.  Too much blood to walk away from."

Snake looked around the place and wondered why anyone would remain in this deserted and forgotten place. He couldn't see how any one could have a sentimental attachment to a set of abandoned buildings, just because their family had lived here once.  The people looked as bleak as the rest of the town,  all wearing dour faces as they carried shot guns to protect this patch on earth.  Earth, no one wanted.  Not intending to waste to much time with the locals and impatient to get a move on, Snake steered the conversation back to his immediate requirements.

"So is there a boat around here I can use?"

They're all down the wharf." The man pointed to the water. "If you can get one going, its all  yours." Isaac quickly answered, looking visibly pleased that Snake intended to move on soon.  Obviously, the town were wary of all strangers and were inclined to help those passing through to be on their way as quickly as possible.  Just being here brought back memories unpleasantly associated with Taylor.  Snake didn't want to linger to much in the home town of his dead best friend.

************

Isaac Ross was right. 

There were a number of boats that were more than sea worthy if they could just get going.  According to the nautical map that Snake managed to find on board one of them, he saw the trip to Vancouver Island would take little less than a couple of hours.  Unfortunately, Isaac had no idea just where Sanctuary was located on the island.  Snake decided he would approach it by the southern tip and work his way up the island by land.

Besides, he was not good with boats.  He knew that all forms of locomotive transportation employed some basic mechanical principles that could be applied to all.  Snake's expertise was mostly with planes, gliders and helicopters, he had very little experience with naval vessels. However, he was still able to find himself an almost ancient, weather beaten and rusted out tug boat.  It used a simple diesel motor that was still operational and quite appreciative of some maintenance.

Within hours of finding it, Snake had managed to take a part the motor and then reconstruct it to a state where it was possible to run and make the tug partially sea worthy.  He spent a few hours of work on it, making it ready to sail and ensuring that every thing was up to scratch. It impressed him that he still maintained most of his skills.  It seemed like the only thing that was in constant use these days, were his weapons skills.

Once the tug was ready, it was called the Sea Witch, Snake said his goodbye, thanking Isaac Ross for the supplies the man was generous enough to provide him with.  He had the feeling Isaac was grateful to see him go as Snake was of leaving Bellingham far behind. Snake could hardly berate him for that, knowing that on first sight, his personal appearance could give cause for concern especially to those who had some idea of his reputation.

After loading his cycle onto the deck of the boat, Snake went to the controls and started guiding the Sea Witch out of Bellingham's seldom used harbour.  The midday sun had began its descent even though it was hard to tell the difference.  Heavy cloud cover kept the day pretty grey and bleak and not even the noon day sun could penetrate the thick blanket of cumulous clouds covering everything.

Despite the weather, the wind was strong enough to be manageable and while the seas were choppy, did very little to hinder his journey across the ocean to Vancouver Island.  He had no difficulty weaving though the small islands that littered the way to Vancouver Island even though it was years since he'd made a sea going voyage anywhere.  During the war, he'd always been airlifted to the target and since the central hub of the Soviet government was deep in the heart of Asia, there was little use of naval travel.

Still Snake wanted to get there before it could get too dark.  Isaac had warned him about drifting boats that were still out there on the water, abandoned when the Pulse rendered them powerless without their motors.  With no power whatsoever, most people had opted to abandon ship, so many of these vessels were still out here, with no marking buoys to warn anyone of the danger the represented until a collision was eminent.

Snake Plissken hated the idea of coming all this way just to drown.

The journey to Vancouver Island did not take as long as he anticipated and the time seem to pass quicker, the further it moved into the day.  By evening, Snake had begun to sight the craggy, rock shore of the island.  The sun had begun to sink into the horizon and the blanket of dark following, promised a pitch black night, since he could not see the sun.  Snake wanted to be well out of its reach before that darkness made its arrival.  Turning the boat towards the shoreline, he skirted the edges of the island, searching for a suitable place to dock.

Vancouver Island was the largest land mass in the area aside from the continent itself.  The smaller islands that he had come across were nothing in comparison to it.  A very healthy population was cable of surviving within its tall coniferous forests, mountains and lakes. Once a popular outdoor camping location, it was famous for its trout filled lakes, plentiful forests and large tracts of land perfect for arable farming.  It was therefore quite conceivable, than an intelligent mind could sustain several thousand people by making use of these natural assets.  He wondered if that was how Sanctuary came to be.

An hour into the dark, Snake found at last, a lone jetty in a deserted part of the forests. He let out a sigh of relief, not liking to be on the boat any longer than necessary.  The night had descended in all its entirety and the horizon was as black as anything.  He looked beyond the bow of the ship and saw nothing except that impregnable black canvas.  Steering the craft gently, the boat drifted towards the wooden jetty, with small waves slapping against the faded hull.  It floated forward without sound once Snake had cut the engine and let it move forward on its own momentum.

The boat rolled gently forward, reaching its destination with a slight bump when it hit the wood of the jetty.  In the waters around the wharf, Snake could see the silhouette of other vessels, floating stationery. It was too dark for him to tell if they were sea going or not.  As it was, there was just barely enough light for him to see a few meters ahead and he was one used to moving around at night.   Fortunately, Snake had brought the necessary equipment to offload most of his gear including his motor cycle.

Once he was on shore with his belongings, Snake climbed on to his cycle and off into the night.

II

He didn't need to ride very far.

Less than a  mile actually.  Snake arrived in the darkened streets of Victoria city, the largest city and capital of Vancouver Island. As Snake pulled the cycle to a halt, he saw a city that hadn't escaped the paranoia that ran rampant elsewhere in the world, after the Pulse.  The buildings were clearly in a state of disrepair, looking no different from New York actually.  There was garbage on the roads, smashed and stripped cars on the sides of road, graffiti covering the walls of most buildings and every indication that this was an urban jungle.  It certainly didn't look like Sanctuary.  It also struck Snake that there weren't any people about.  While he accepted that it was dark and people probably felt safer indoors, especially when there was little light outside, but there was always some trace of a life.   A cat running across the street and some mice scurrying in dark corners was all the life that Snake could see.  As the engines of his bike slowed to a low rumble, Snake found himself in a street that looked like once was a busy neighbourhood.  Not any more however.  The abandoned shops and homes were slipping further into dereliction with each passing moment.

Once again, it reminded him of New York City and that sent an uncharacteristic thrill down his spine.  The intersection was deserted, with cars upturned and some were even smashed out of the way, the indentations and impact marks having scrapped their path to the pavements.  At this moment, Snake was starting to question this whole idea of Sanctuary's existence and wondered why he had been gullible enough to believe in some half assed fantasy.  He sat astride the chopper for a few minutes trying to decide what he ought to do next.

The most sensible thing would be to find someone and ask them what he needed to know, but looking around at the deserted street, made that a little difficult.  He wondered at the lack of lights of any kind.  This was unusual because while he could understand the absence of electric lights, he had not been any place where they didn't employ use of some alternate form of fuel.   Even if it was kerosene, wood or oil.  Despite any amount of devastation, there was always that one fundamental characteristic.  Where was everybody, he wondered.  There was always people around, even if they were hiding in the darkness.   Some were even psychotics and down right crazy, but at least they were there.

After reflecting a few minutes, his attention was captured by a scurrying rat across a garbage strew floor.  Snapping to attention, Snake tensed and saw a running child moving through the night.  The child had been trying to avoid the headlights of his motor cycle, but was unable to prevent himself from being seen.  He froze as it ran in front of Snake, staring at him for an instance like a mesmerised deer caught in the headlight of some car.  Snake regarded the child for a second, making no moves to or from him.  The child was a little boy wearing thick heavy clothes, all to big for him and cut crudely to fit, with grime covering his face.

"Please don't tell." He pleaded at Snake.

"Don't tell what?" Snake asked disinterested.

The child didn't wait around to elaborate, choosing to scamper away into a nearby building. Snake was tempted to follow but he had his own concerns and it didn't look like the kid wanted company any way.  He supposed he would have to go in at some point though, especially if there were people in there.  He needed answers. 

Snake was about to shut his engines down when he heard the unmistakable roar of car approaching fast.  Loud voices, rowdy with rancour and too much booze, sailed above the load roar of a clapped out motor.  These voices put Snake on guard immediately.  Resting his hand gently against his gun, Snake waited coolly as the headlights of the vehicle sped towards him.

The car came to a screeching halt once the beam of light fell on him.  It was occupied by at least three men who were heavily armed and looked like street thugs.  Snake didn't see any reason to get hostile just yet, even though he was poised to react at a moments notice.  If all possible Snake wanted to get some answers.  Like where the hell Sanctuary was supposed to be and if it did not exist, which son of a bitch to kill for sending him on a wild goose chase.

"Who the fuck are you?" The first man demanded. A Latino dressed in a mixture of whatever was available, mostly fatigues and civvies. The most impressive thing about him however, was the weapon he was carrying.

"Hey," the second man suddenly exclaimed in excitement, before Snake could respond.  The man stared hard at Snake for a second, with recognition quickly flooding into his blue eyes. "I know this guy, its Snake Plissken."

"Snake Plissken?" The third one declared and by now Snake had almost ignored paying any attention to what he looked like and more concerned on how he was going to deal with them.  "He's dead isn't he?"

"I thought he was taller." The Latino retorted, never taking his eyes off Snake's face.  "You Plissken?"

Snake ignored the question. "Is this place Sanctuary?" He asked doubtfully.

The question inspired the three to start laughing hard for a few seconds, a reaction which did little to improve Snake's ever worsening patience.

"Sanctuary?" The Latino spoke after regaining his composure. "Pal you're in the wrong place for everything.  In fact, I think the boss would like to talk to you." His features immediately hardened as he raised his gun at Snake.  The others followed suit immediately.  "Get off the bike."

Snake did nothing of the kind.

Suddenly, a can skittered across the road. Its impact on the granite road caught all three's attention with surprise. They swung around instinctively, giving Snake the opportunity to react.  That window of chance was all he needed and Snake used it most effectively.  Going for his gun, he fired both guns, cutting all three down before they had a chance to return fire. All three went down in the jeep they were standing on within seconds. They jerked around unceremoniously, uttering short cries as bullets tore through their chests before collapsing on the seats in a bloody mess.

Snake cursed under his breath, angered by the fact that he didn't get a chance to question them about Sanctuary.  Their responses to his question previously was more confusing than ever. They said he was in the wrong place.  If so where was Sanctuary on Vancouver Island?  Deciding it would do no good to get madder, Snake sat back on his cycle and pulled out a cigarette.  He was about to light it when he paused a moment and looked into the darkness ahead.

"Come on out." He said smoothly.

For a second , there was no response.  Then after a brief pause, the child he had seen before emerged from the shadowy alley where he had hidden away during Snake's exchange with the three goons.  He walked towards Snake gingerly, having decided the stranger would not harm him and was impressed by how well he had handled the three men before.  The boy cringed a bit at the sight of the dead bodies and kept moving onward, forcing himself not to look as he walked past the jeep.  He was no more than ten years old, Snake decided.

He stopped in front of Snake, saying nothing.  Snake could tell he was scared, even though he was trying his level best to hide it.  Despite this, Snake found himself offering the boy a faint smile of reassurance.  "Your timing was okay." Snake replied. "Thanks."

"Are you really Snake Plissken?" He asked with a hushed voice.

Snake nodded. "Yeah I am.  What's your name?"

"Aaron." He answered. "I used to read about you.  Did you really rescue the President of America?"

That was a subject that Snake really did not want to get into, especially with a ten year old. "Its a little past your bed time isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said with a bashful smile. "I gotta get to my dad. You better come to."

"Why?" Snake asked disinterested.

"Cos you killed the Englishman's men! He'll be mad at you for sure.  You gotta to come with me and my dad.  We're going to Sanctuary too."

"So  its real?" Snake asked, motioning the kid forward.

"Yeah," Aaron said enthusiastically climbing onto the back of the bike, where Snake had instructed him to do so.  "Its not here though.  My dad says its up west."

"So what's this place?" Snake asked, ramming his foot down on the pedal and bringing the bike to life under both of them.

"This place belongs to the Englishman," Aaron responded. "This is the Zone."

CHAPTER THREE

I

Sanctuary did exist.

Snake learned this while he and Aaron travelled through the ill lit catacombs of Victoria City, or the Zone as it was known nowadays.  Aaron knew his way around, having lived most of his life here. He was a good guide, knowing from experience after months of hiding, which routes were best to take when attempting to keep under the notice of the Zone's masters.  Snake still couldn't believe his luck.  He had come to this island in the hopes of finding some peace and quiet, after the string of violence situations he had found himself.  Now it looked as if he had just walked freely into exactly the same circumstances.  After killing those three thugs earlier in the night, Aaron had assured him that he would surely want retribution.  If Snake could shoot someone for the mistake, he would have.

The Englishman, as Aaron explained it, was the complete master of the Zone.  Everything and everyone in this territory were subject to the main's will.  If the Englishman said you had to die, then there were people who saw to it that happened.  Aaron and his family had escaped the camps and had been hiding out in abandoned part of the city until they could get in touch with the Underground who would smuggle them to Sanctuary.  Most of the Zone's inhabitants lived out their lives in designated area that had to do with the type of work they were required to perform.  Aaron's family were designated clan up units.  They were required to clean up the city street, removing everything from corpses to damaged vehicles.  It was hard work and their cooperation was enforced by the Englishman's foot soldiers and the weapons they carried.

Beyond that, the boy didn't know much else and assured Snake that his father would be able to answer his questions. Snake hoped this was the case, because he was pretty mad as hell about being caught in this situation, especially when this was all he had been trying to avoid.  Not that he was afraid of the Englishman or anything.  It was just that Snake had seen enough individuals like the Zone's petty dictator to know that they were all the same.  These were scumbags who used force and guns to place themselves on top, subjugating those who were too afraid to fight back and using those who wanted nothing else but to fight.  Assholes like these were often astonished by people who could fight back.

Like he could.

Snake did however, learn that Sanctuary was on the other side of Vancouver Island.  Judging from Aaron's description of events, the Englishman was forced into some sort of territorial agreement with the leaders of Sanctuary.  Aaron didn't know much after that, but it was easy enough for Snake to tell a few things.  The Englishman and all the others like him did not take orders or agree to any kind of treaty unless there was some serous power to be reckoned with.  Those who ran Sanctuary must have been a force of its own, if the Englishman was forced to obey treaty stipulations.

Aaron took Snake through a maze of side streets and dark alleys.  Snake had to admit he was impressed by the child's versatility and that he could make any discernible difference between one darkened crevice from another.  Snake was an expert at urban infiltration and combat, found this terrain to be quiet comfortable, despite the danger. Shadows and black corners did not frighten him and most of the time, he felt more at ease in the night than any other place.  From New York to LA, he'd been chosen for those missions for those very same abilities, that and his desire to survive at any costs.

After the Pulse, he supposed such skills would be a rudimentary survival skill of the new generation borne out of the rubble.

Finally, they arrived at any area that looked less hostile, if such a thing was possible.  There were small fires burning and lanterns lit across the blocks, illuminating dirty windows in myriad of frosty lights.  The bulbs of the street lamps were replaced by hanging lanterns, burning on kerosene lighting up the street as best it could.  The place had an unearthly quality about it, reminding Snake of a darkened Victorian street, in the heart of London's East End.

There were people here, however.  Children were playing games on the grey sidewalk, dressed in a patchwork of ragged clothes, with faces grimy and dirty, while old men warmed their hands over fires made in large bins. They passed bottles of booze around the circle, taking tasty swigs before passing it along.  This looked so much like war torn Russia, it was frightening. He had seen similar scenes before, after a town had been ravished by a battle.  This looked less savage but awfully similar.

At the sound of the Chopper's engines, people looked up and stared at his headlights like frightened animals.  Within seconds, they had scurried away into their homes and their hiding places like frightened roaches.  Snake saw no offence at that.  The men with technology in this place were usually working for the Englishman, why shouldn't they be afraid of him. At Aaron's directions, he drove the motor bike to a kerb, bringing it halt in front of a derelict building on the corner. It was in worse shape than the rest, with holes in its walls and burnt out on the top floor.

Aaron looked at the deserted place and then turned to Snake. "It's okay Snake, they're just scared."

"Doesn't mean shit to me." Snake mumbled under his breath, switching off the bike's engines and studying the surrounding area carefully.  He didn't like it.  Too many places for someone to keep a good eye on you without being seen. Not to mention the layout of the street made it difficult to escape in case of an ambush. He didn't like the idea of what Aaron deemed as safe.

"Come on." The boy urged, hurrying up the steps of the building. "We gotta be inside.  We can't be out, there's a curfew."

Snake said nothing, but his displeasure was apparent by the unmistakable frown on his face.  As it was, he didn't know why he was following this kid.  The smarter thing to do would be to get the hell out of here before anything else happened. He still had a boat out there no one knew about and there was no reason why he couldn't find Sanctuary, now that he knew where its general location was.  Either way, avoiding the Englishman was a good idea he should be following.

Entering the dimly lit building, Snake kept Aaron in view as the kid ran up the filthy corridor.  There were people hurrying indoors at the sight of him and that made him uncomfortable.  He liked keeping a low profile and hated it when he was the focus of so much attention.  It seemed as if everyone knew he was here.

The corridor was filthy, with wall paper peeling of the brick, bits of plaster on the rotting carpeted hallway and ugly smudges of what Snake was sure was human waste and blood on the walls.   There was the smell of dank moisture,  urine and mould thick in the air and Snake took care not to touch anything.  Aaron turned down a flight of stairs that descended into the basement level.  As Snake followed him down there, he found that the basement was worse off than the corridor, if such a thing was humanly possible.   Now Snake was straining to see in the darkness, although he kept Aaron in his line of sight.  Just in case the little shit was leading him into some kind of trap. Snake kept his hand on his holster, making sure he was capable of making a quick draw if necessary.  A handgun would do in a pinch, but Snake could feel the slight pressure of steel resting against his ribcage.  The automatic machine gun he wore in a body belt was fully loaded with multiple clips hidden in strategic parts of Snake's clothes.

Call him a fucking boy scout.

"Aaron!" A male voice cried out as Snake reached the bottom of the stairs.  A sudden crack over his neck took Snake by complete surprise.  The pain stunned him for a second as he reeled, but a second was all that he needed to recover.  Instinctively, Snake could tell where his attacker was coming from and allowed his reflexes to take hold.  Grabbing the man's arm before another blow connected, Snake rammed his elbow into the man's chest and felt bone.  He heard a loud crunch as the man buckled over.  In the background, he heard a woman's scream.

"Snake no!" He heard Aaron scream as he went for his gun.

He paused long enough to see his attacker on the floor, with the woman running to his side.  Aaron was standing in front both of them, trying to use his small body as a shield.  Even in the darkness, Snake could see the boy staring at him wide-eyed with terror. "This is my dad Snake!" He turned to the man, who was gasping for air, trying to recover from Snake's blow to his chest. "Dad, this is Snake Plissken, he brought me home!"

The woman glared at him suspiciously. Her face told a story in itself of harsh living, starvation and desperation. It told the story for Aaron's entire family. "You had a gun!" She declared. "We thought you came to take us back." Her voice was a shrill noise, but it was on the verge of cracking as was her composure.  She turned back to her husband and helped him to his feet.  The man recovered slightly, trying to maintain his dignity as he rose to meet Snake's gaze.

Snake holstered his gun, knowing he wouldn't need it.  Staring into the man's eyes, unflinching, it was obvious that Aaron's father was afraid of him. Eying him with both fear and caution, taking particular notice of the holster and his gun.  Snake said nothing, allowing the man to speak first.

"I'm sorry," the man apologised, handing Snake a hand in gesture of friendship. "When you came here with a gun. I thought you were going to take us back. I just reacted."

"Its all right," Snake replied, although he didn't return the handshake. "I brought your kid here before I head out."

At the mention of escape, the man's eyes widened with life. "You're leaving the Zone?" He exclaimed.

"Yeah," Snake replied, knowing immediately where this was going. He supposed he didn't have to take them, but it was a big boat and he needed some answers as well. "Talk to me about Sanctuary and may be we can make a deal."

*********

It was too dangerous for them to move at night.

At night, the Englishman had imposed a curfew that was enforced by his soldiers who drove around in their cars armed with guns, ready to shoot.  This was mainly to keep better control of the masses, so they would be easily retrievable if required.  This part of town was reserved for the untouchables the Englishman could not use for his workforce. They were mostly old people, orphan children, the retarded and disabled or anyone that could not be put to work in the camps.

Jonah Stone and his family were resident of Vancouver Island all their lives. Before the Pulse, he had been an electrical engineer by trade and it was this expertise that had become such a liability now.  The Englishman maintained a tight control over the skilled professional and artisans by abducting their families and forcing them to work for the family's future safety. It was a situation Jonah was not about to submit to.

Sanctuary was in actuality, Della City.

Della City was a smaller city than Victoria, or the Zone as it was now known.  It had managed to recover from the Pulse faster than the capital.  Despite the ensuing carnage of paranoia and savagery that overtook most of the cities, someone rose up to take control of the situation.  Not only consolidating the remaining law enforcement in the area but brining some semblance of order back to the city.  Jonah did not know specific details about what took place in Della City, his information coming mostly from third hand reports and rumours.  Such rumours told of how Della City still had power.  Beefer the Pulse, Della's main source of power had come from the large hydro-electrical plant located at Della Falls. Sanctuary had used its engineers and skilled tradesmen to activate the plant again.  Before the Zone was born, numerous people had fled from Victoria to Della as the violence grew.

In Victoria, there was no smooth transition. As utilities and the law broke down, the anarchy gave rise to vicious street gangs who were running rampant killing anyone who wouldn't wear their gang colours. Local law enforcement was unable to stem the rising tide until some had either chosen to join or were killed in the onslaught.  The head of anyone wearing a badge soon became trophies for the gangs. People fled into the hill sand remained there, fearful of dying in the crossfire.

When Ebola Zaire came to Vancouver Island, so did a new kind of death.

Since there was little global communication, most of the cities and town that were struck by Ebola had no idea of what it was at first.  Ebola's symptoms were disturbingly similar to influenza, disarming people from the notion that they were carrying a lethal virus.  However, once the first case made its appearance, the death toll began to soar with frightening speed. People from the mainland flocking to the city in search of food and loved ones lost after the Pulse, brought Ebola to Vancouver Island.  With little organisation and no central power in the city, the disease was left to run unchecked through the streets. Soon gang members were executing anyone showing symptoms of the virus, not realising that these could range from haemorrhaging to a slight cold.  Before long, the gangs were killing just about anyone they damn well felt like it.

The disease ran its course after several months with the death of its last victim.

Slowly, shocked survivors began to pick up the pieces. The Skulls, one of the smaller gangs had elected itself a voracious new leader whose name was unknown and liked to be called simply as the Englishman. Under his leadership, the Skulls rose to power and took control of the city.  His success centring mainly on the notion that he had a plan and was absolutely ruthless in his implementation of it.  Despite his brutal and savage methods, his strategy was flawless and his armed thugs herded people together and started restoring a new kind of order.

It was unknown what effects the virus had on Della City.

Six months before, the Englishman had finally decided that Sanctuary as most of the people were tried to escape there called it,  was a threat to his power. As long as it existed, it was a beacon of hope for everyone the Englishman wanted to subjugate.  Shortly after another large batch of people had made a successful escape to Sanctuary, the Englishman led the first raid towards Della in an attempt to capture its leaders and its prosperity.

He was not successful and was forced back to the Zone in a humiliating defeat.  It seemed Sanctuary knew how to protect itself as well.

The Englishman didn't give up so easily, sending Skulls into the opposing territories on several occasions, always trying to win some foothold.  The last incursion saw the total annihilation of the invading force, except for one survivor, who was kept alive specifically to bring the Englishman a statement of demand.

Under the treaty the Englishman was forced to sign, both cities mapped out their territorial boundaries, with the negotiations taking place at a neutral site.  Sanctuary refused outright to prohibit people from entering their territories but would do nothing to encourage them either.  Its leaders stipulated that violation of the treaty would be nothing short of an act of war and Sanctuary would retaliate in kind.  As much as the Englishman wanted Sanctuary, he had to concede his bands of thugs and street gangs were no match for the well-organised group that defended Sanctuary.

For now,  it was a fragile peace.

II

Even though Snake was uncomfortable at travelling by day, Jonah assured him it would be simpler than trying to move around at night. With the curfew imposed by the Skulls, they would be noticed immediately if they were seen outside.  Snake however, was doubtful of this notion and despite his better judgement, agreed with Jonah's recommendation, seeing the man knew this place better than he did. He didn't know why he was still with the Stone family.  While the information provided by Jonah was interesting regarding the politics of Vancouver Island, it was hardly necessary for Snake to make his escape.  If anything, the presence of family would only serve to slow him down.

Yet despite all his reservations, he found himself leaving the building the next day, stepping out into daylight.   By day, the street was no less redeeming than it was at night, except one could only see it better and the added clarity only added to Snake's displeasure.   They emerged unto the sidewalk and Snake was glad to see the bike still where he left it at least.  Even though Jonah had assured him that the family had their own transport to Snake's boat. He didn't like the idea of relying to much on this man to get him out of a tight spot.  Whatever Jonah Stone might have been in a previous life, to Snake Plissken he was just an amateur.

"I managed to get this thing going." Jonah declared proudly as he led Snake to an alley beside the building. "It's not much, but will get us to your boat." An old Dodge truck was hiding behind a dumpster, occupied by a drunken old lady snoring away with a bottle of booze clutched in her frozen hands.  The tarnished red vehicle looked like something out of an old farm yard and barely fit to travel.  Snake kept that observation himself even though he was dubious about Jonah's ability to get it moving.

"Follow me then." Snake replied coolly, deciding that it was way past time that they were leaving.  He walked out of the alley, towards his bike.  Glancing back over his shoulder long enough to see Jonah bundling his family into the vehicle.

The engine of the bike roared to life as Snake brought his foot down on the starter,  its healthy rumble echoing through the quiet street.  A few people stuck their heads out of windows to see what the noise was about, but chose to retreat once they took a good look and Snake and specifically the guns he was carrying.  Behind him, the old Dodge rumbled to life at the same time, puffing out a steady stream of dark smoke from the exhaust and from under the hood.  Its engine was decidedly healthy and sounded like an old man having an emphysema attack after smoking the cigarette he wasn't supposed to have.

Smoke shook his head in disgust, once again rebuking himself for becoming embroiled in this whole sorry mess in the first place.  This was none of his concern and he was placing himself in unnecessary risk by taking on the responsibility of Jonah and his family. However, knowing it did nothing to change things and the sooner he got back to the coast the better.

They had started to move off, when Snake noticed it.

It was something he hadn't realised before because of his preoccupation with his current dilemma.  The old men who were huddled around the garbage stove were gone, so were the children and all other signs of life. This place was lively at last night and Snake found it odd that would be so deserted by day, especially since there was no curfew.  People were staying indoors for a reason. He could see people staring out their windows, their faces frightened. At first Snake thought it was him, but suddenly it occurred to him that something else was doing it.

"Shit." He cursed softly, realising the grievous mistake. 

Almost on cute, before he and Jonah had reached the other end of the street, cars that had been likely waiting for them all morning, screeched out of nowhere, barricading all possible exits. 

Safe, sure." Fucking amateur, Snake thought to himself as he saw at least four cars, two were jeeps and two were sedans.  Those who occupied the cars were a motley lot, distinguishable by the weapons they carried and the skull insignia on their clothes.  Snake's eyes scanned the area and found more cause for annoyance. It was a typical city block flanked on both sides with buildings, with few alleys in between and perfect ambush territory.

"Get off the bike!" The only woman in the group, shouted from the lead car.  She was a sultry beauty, clad in leather, with dark mahogany hair and deep blue eyes. Eyes that were icy cold and harder than any killers.  The supreme confidence in her face indicated that she expected Snake to give up without a fight, since they had boxed him in. 

Snake held his ground, undecided on whether he should abandon the bike and make a run for it, even though the odds were against him.  Even with his automatic, he counted at least twelve of them and not even if he did get most of their number, he wouldn't get them all.  Finally, he realised that he didn't have much of a choice even if it was a big mistake.

Meanwhile, Jonah Stone in the Dodge was watching with rising fear as some of the men in one car started approaching his truck.  Panic more than anything forced him to act.  Slamming his foot on the accelerator, the Dodge leapt forward lethargically, barrelling head on into the two men ahead. A short scream from one was followed by both rolling over the windscreen and disappearing in a blur  In the rear view mirror, Jonah saw their bodies hit the ground hard. His wife had started screaming as his son huddle closer to him from fright.

Snake looked up to see Jonah's truck on the move, as did everyone else.  Taking advantage of the situation, he went for his gun.  Suddenly he heard the loud crack of a gunshot somewhere in the distance and felt an exquisite burst of pain in his chest. He glanced down in time to see blood and flesh erupt from his chest, before the force of it sent him to his knees.  Everything suddenly moved faster after that.  He could feel the searing pain, feel the grinding of teeth as he tried to bear it.  He tried to keep himself from falling, but no amount of will could have kept him upright.  Unconsciously, he knew the shout came from behind.  These assholes were smarter than he had given them credit for. They had staked out the street and position snipers on the roofs just in case Snake had tried to make a run for it.

Weapons fire had broken out in the confusion, mostly directed as Jonah's truck.  Lifting his head, Snake saw Jonah's truck slamming into another vehicle hard, sending it clear across the road, before it came to a halt at the base of a building.  Snake took a deep breath, trying to force himself to his feet, but the strength wouldn't come to him.  His pain was vivid and, even though it was now thready and ragged in its expression.

The Skulls were firing at the passenger cabin of the truck, bullets shattering the already damaged windscreen.  There was a flash of clarity where Snake saw Jonah take one in the head, blood and brain matter erupting on the windscreen and windows.  The man slumped forward, his head still pooling blood as it rolled down the glass. Snake winced slightly seeing that. Jonah was a good man, even if he had been an asshole.  The pick up slowed to a halt a few meters later and the Skulls descended on it like a pack of wolves.

Through the haze of pain, he saw Aaron and his mother forced from the car and cursed that he was no help to them, or himself for that matter. The woman was harder to coerce, since she was sobbing hysterically at her husband's dead body. Snake caught sight of Aaron's vacant look. He saw the blood and flesh on the boy's clothes and knew with uncharacteristic sadness that he had seen that expression a long time ago, on another son's face.

"Get the to processing, Jimenez." A voice spoke near him.  It belonged to the woman who had spoken before.  "The boss wants to talk to this one."

"Sure thing, Miranda." Another voice responded.

Snake could barely move, but he knew he had to.  It was almost impossible.  He knew he was bleeding to death, he could see his own blood pooling before him, could taste it against his lips.  Snake knew he had taken a chest wound and any unnecessary movement could kill him.  However, he could not remain here either.  His thoughts came to a sudden halt when he felt hands around his arms, pulling him to his feet.  Movement was agony, but they forced him upright.

"That damn Jones," the woman called Miranda cursed slightly, examining the wound on his chest. "He was only supposed to wing you Mr Plissken."

Snake didn't answer, glaring into her beautiful face with whatever defiance he could muster.

"We'll I don't suppose it matters anyway." She sighed turning away from him. "As long as you're alive when  the boss decides to kill you."

CHAPTER FOUR

I

Four...five...

Still alive.

Just barely though, just barely. 

Snake didn't notice much during the trip through the Zone, towards the Englishman's central den, except that it was a bumpy ride and he felt each jolt with sliver of pain in his chest.  The woman Miranda had wrapped a makeshift bandage around his chest to stem the flow of blood.  To some extent it worked, but mostly it was trying to cork a dam with a needle.  Snake still felt gushes of blood each time he took a deep breath and it was becoming considerably harder to breathe.  Despite his attempt to maintain a cool demeanour, Snake knew he had to get to a doctor fast, or he wouldn't survive the day, let alone the next few hours. Even though death had become a way of life with him, he wasn't eager to meet it after surviving New York and Los Angeles.  Besides, he hated to think he'd go without taking some of these bastards with him.

"So this is Snake Plissken huh?" Snake heard the man next to him say.

"The one and only." Miranda answered from the other side.

"He doesn't look so tough." He retorted derisively.

Snaked reacted to that remark by going for the man's throat, despite the pain. Deciding the pain was worth the effort of wiping that smug of the assholes' face.  Lashing out, Snake had his hands around the man's throat, applying enough pressure to make him cry out.

"Tough enough for you, asshole." Snake retorted, speaking through a strained voice.  The man was more of a kid really, loud mouth and too cocky for his own good. His frightened eyes showed Snake just how much he was suitably humbled even though he tried to be defiant. His pale skin had broken into a sweat and Snake's reputation showed in his terrified eyes.

The sudden click sounding behind his ear, was a sound Snake was very familiar with.  The cool metal nudged him back and Snake glanced over long enough to see Miranda holding his own gun to his head. Letting go of the man, Snake fell down heavily into the seat, fresh pain coursing through him causing him to wince slightly.  He probably shouldn't have exerted himself as much and expected to be stopped from doing any real harm.  Still it was worth it.

"You fuck!" The boy snapped with renewed confidence, posturing himself now that he had recovered.  He held his gun to Snake's throat, cursing furiously.

"Calm down kid." Miranda instructed giving Snake a sarcastic look. "Mr Plissken was just making a point."

"Yeah right," Kid responded, giving Snake's chest a calculated look. "He's going to be dead soon any way."

As much as Snake hated to admit it, he tended to agree with that estimation.  The convertible finally arrived at its destination, coming to a halt at the kerb in front of Victoria City's council hall.  It was big ostentatious building, with doomed ceilings, Corinthian columns, statues and stained glass windows, all defaced and gratified. It was just the kind of place a would be dictator would choose as his base of operations.  Looking at the place, told Snake Plissken a lot about the Englishman.

They dragged him out of the car and forced him up the large steps. Miranda walked ahead as always.  From her manner, Snake guessed she was one of the Englishman higher ranking lieutenants.  As they continued up the steps, Snake saw all the statues had been damaged. Specifically, the heads had been decapitated and smashed to hide who it was really in commemoration to. In garish letters spray painted across the large and once polished, oak doors that was the entrance to the building, were the words 'End Zone'.

It was so typical Snake thought.  All these warlord types with their delusions of grandeur and misinformed notions of their own importance.  They almost always tried to make people forget that in the real world, they were common scum who used to give local law enforcement a good laugh now and then.  The Englishman was shaping up to be no different. Like the Duke and Cuervo Jones before him, they always cited some higher cause, like freedom or rights deserved to all men, yet they used guns to subjugate the weak.

The Englishman would not doubt say he was bringing order to the city. Snake could almost  hear it now. That killing Jonah Stone and others like him was a necessary evil. Snake didn't know Stone or even cared that much about him for that matter, but Snake remembered Aaron's face most vividly as he was led away, covered in his father's blood and brains.  Snake had seen his eyes.  He knew that kind of anger almost intimately. He knew how it felt to see everything that ever mattered, just disappear and always because of someone else's' fucking cause.

I'm sorry about your parents Mr Plissken, these things just happen.

He realised he was drifting in an out of consciousness, because places were coming and going in flashes.   One moment, he thought he was staring at Taylor, young and naive looking like the day they'd met at boot camp.  Not like later, after the ear and bullets had torn him a part. He didn't remember Taylor ever wearing glasses though.  Another moment later, he was passing by more thugs, more guns, books and statues, carpets and hallways rushed past him, dimly lit by lanterns. Women were walking around, following men like lap dogs, dressed in skin tight outfits, leaving nothing to the imagination.  The perceptions swirling around his head were becoming more difficult to ascertain.

The words `brain asphyxia' was starting to repeat itself in his mind.

Suddenly, it all came to a stop, with him hitting the floor with a new place.  The room stopped spinning, there was sunlight bearing down on him. Snake started to recover a little, the sudden stop adjusting his equilibrium somewhat. Although not by much.  He was dying slowly and he knew it.  They'd taken his weapons away so he couldn't even hasten the process even if he wanted to.  Snake felt carpet against his cheek and a silence that seemed enforced in comparison to the cacophony outside.

Snake rose to his feet slowly, determined that he would not meet his end on his knees. Each movement was pain.  Standing up helped a little, allowing the conundrum of visual images and sounds to find some focus.  For the first time, Snake got a better look at his surroundings.  He was in a large room, with a glass roof that allowed the sunlight to illuminate the pews that were laid out in a semi-circle around a wooden pedestal and lowered floor. There were only a few people present. One of them was Miranda and the other was the Kid.  There were others at the multiple entrances of the room but these were armed sentries.

A man emerged from out of the light and he stood matching Snake's height, his ash coloured hair tied neatly with a strip of leather cord.  His face was hard, almost feral in its intensity, with high cheekbones and harder eyes and lips that hid perfect teeth. In those green eyes, Snake saw a killer.  The kind of killer he'd faced in a thousand situations like this. Someone who'd spent most of his life being a killer and perfecting it to an art.

Wearing a loose flowing shirt, dark pants and high riding boots, he almost looked like something out of a movie set. He walked to Miranda, took hold of her fiercely and pressed his lips against hers hard. Her nails dug into his back and from her reaction, Snake realised that theirs was more than just a professional gang relationship. Miranda was the Englishman's main squeeze.

"I knew I could count on you my dear." The Englishman spoke, his voice was like grating glass before turning to him. "Snake Plissken in the flesh."

"Not much of it unfortunately," Miranda remarked eying Snake disparagingly. "Jones did more than wing him."

The Englishman walked up to him and studied the wound that was slowly killing him with nothing more than a passing interest. "That's alright," he answered Miranda. "I just need him for a few minutes."

"Get on with it." Snake finally spoke, growing impatient with all this posturing and Christs knows what else this little god had in mind for him.

The Englishman rose a brow at Snake's sudden remark. His face curled up into a smile that was anything but friendly. "Your reputation precedes you Mr Plissken, I'm kind of surprised that you're still alive.  Rumour had it that you were dead."

"So I heard."

"Since you're not dead and you're on my island. I take it you had a reason for making the trip here from main land. What may I inquire that is?"

"He was helping some civvy take off with his family," Kid offered. "Probably heading for Sanctuary."

At the mention of Sanctuary, the Englishman's features darkened for a second before the expression of calm returned again. He looked at Snake with surprise, even though Snake didn't miss the look on his face.  "You must be mistaken," he said sarcastically. "This here is the man who brought us the Pulse. He is not a man known for his good deeds, even though I must admit, I should thank you for making us gods with a new kingdom.   Still there was that famous rescue wasn't there? I some how doubt Snake Plissken would be finding haven with a bunch of peace loving fuckers I intend to shortly despatch. I find that most difficult to believe."

Snake heard the laughter all around.

It was becoming harder to concentrate so Snake knew he was getting worse. He heard footsteps walking around him, moving towards Miranda's direction and Snake ran his hand over his face, trying to focus himself.  He tried to run around to see where the Englishman had gone, when suddenly he heard the man's voice in front of him.

"I have plans for Sanctuary Snake," he said casually. "In less than a month, it will become a part of the Zone and I'll have that bitch who runs it. When I bring her people to their goddamn knees in chains, she'll hear their screaming from my bedroom when I'm fucking her!"

Snake almost smiled. Almost, but he had something better in mind.

"So you're telling me you got your ass kicked by a woman."

The bullet slammed into his side even before he had a chance to finish speaking. Hot pain flared from ruined flesh as the bullet tore through his muscle above his hip.  The force of it threw him backwards and Snake hit the floor hard. This time, he didn't have the strength left to get up.  Even though he was still conscious, Snake was aware that this was probably it. He was going to die.

Shit.

"Get rid of this trash." He heard the Englishman say, as he stood over Snake with Miranda's gun in his hand. "He's staining my floor."

II

There was a loud splash and a sensation of falling.

Water swirled all around him. It entered his mouth, stung at his wounds and even seeped through the protective eye patch to reach his useless eye. Snake didn't know where he was for a moment, knowing only that he was just thrown into a body of water. The icy cold water shocked him into coherence, because he remembered little after being shot the second time.

Seeing the direction of the bubbles prompted Snake to follow them and thankfully, the air escaping from his nose and mouth gave him the added buoyancy he needed to break the surface.   He could see nothing except the bubbles because the water was not only murky but also dark.  He needed only to rise a few meters before he found himself breaking the surface.  Taking greedy gulps of air, he kicked to stay afloat and knew he couldn't do that for long.  His chest and side were numbed by the cold water, which was probably the only consolation in this whole miserable situation.

He was at the junction of some kind of underground sewer. Small pin pricks of light indicated the manhole cover in the ceiling above, where he had been thrown in.  The smell hit him almost as severely as the cold.   Snake could smell foul water, waste and other things he didn't care to name.  He saw a ledge in the distance, probably and access way for maintenance staff.  Though covered in slime and other refuse, Snake could make out the thin line of an edge in the darkness.

Slowly, he swam towards it, moving his arms as carefully as possible so that he would not agitate his wounds any further.  He was exhausted and movement was difficult. His weapons were gone and he had no idea where he was. That he wasn't dead yet surprised Snake more than anything else.  Despite all this, he was as mad as hell and wanted revenge so badly that he was willing to survive just to kill that son of a bitch, the Englishman.

Reaching the ledge, he let his weigh rest on the concrete surface, pushing the garbage out of his face.  He coughed up blood and spat the awful metallic tasting bile from his mouth.  He knew he was starting to slip into a bad way because he could no longer feel anything but overwhelming numbness.  He had lost a great deal of blood and was fighting the urge to lapse into sleep.  He didn't know much about medicine but he knew that was dangerous.  With the cold and the loss of blood, he was probably slipping into shock.

What a place to die.

All of a sudden, Snake heard the shrill squealing of vermin, followed by soft scampering sounds.  He raised his heavy head and tried to see from which direction the sound had come.  It was difficult to see.  Each junction looked like the other and the sound had been soft.  Snake's survival training had allowed him to pick it up where it would have been largely ignored by anyone else. However, in this state, he was not much good for anything else.

The squeal disappeared into the darkness but was soon followed by footsteps walking against the concrete floor.  Snake could make out sounds of garbage being crushed underfoot as the person made his approach.  Snake wondered what new threat this was, because he was certainly in no shape to deal with it.

Still he had to try.

Mustering every ounce of reserve strength he had left, Snake Plissken dragged himself out of the water. His wet clothes added extra weight and it was an effort just to slid his bulk over the concrete ledge.  Fortunately, his flame retardant clothes did not absorb much water which was some consolation.  Allowing his black coat to slide off, relieved much of the weight on Snake's body.  The cold however was considerable and it started biting into his skin immediately.

Using the nearby wall as support, Snake moved into the shadows, listening with concentration.  The footsteps were coming from the junction opposite him.  Chances were, the stranger had not seen him climb out of the water. Moving awkwardly into position, Snake stood at the corner of the wall and waited.

The footsteps were definitely coming straight for him and their pace indicated the person was under some urgency to reach him.  Snake had no idea whether this person was a threat or not, but under his present circumstances he was a mad as hell and it didn't mean shit to him any more.

Holding the breath tight and moving into that frame of mind that made him unbeatable at times, Snake Plissken waited fro the quarry to approach.  The person walked straight past him, allowing Snake a large enough window of opportunity to strike. The stranger paused at the edge, looking into the junction and was beginning to turn when he felt Snake's arm tightening around his throat in one fast jerk.

"Come to finish me off?" Snake demanded, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. He fumbled in the man's clothes and found a gun which he took. "What's the matter? Your boss shaky about his shot?"

"No!" The man managed to gasp. "I came here to help you!"

Snake released him, shoving him forward as he levelled the gun and took aim.  The stranger stopped himself from falling into the water. He was wearing an old green army jacket and jeans, Snake observed as he turned around with his hands raised in the air, pleading surrender.

As he turned, Snake saw that he was a young man in his early twenties. With the little light there was in the room, Snake was able to make his features out.  Sandy blond hair, fine chiselled features and blue eyes which looked innocent and naive.  For a minute Snake simply stared because this kid looked familiar. Snake searched his memory for a match and suddenly it was there in front of him.

"Taylor?"

No, it was impossible.

Taylor was dead. Snake Plissken had seen him die about seventeen years ago.  They had tried to rob the Federal Repository. Everything had come and gone smoothly, he and Taylor escaped with the loot and made it as far as San Francisco before they were tracked down.  It was that crime which had him sentenced to life imprisonment at the New York State Penitentiary.  The crime where he had seen them cut his best friend in half in front of him.  He still remembered the look on Taylor's face as the bullets riddled h is body, when he realised the dying to come.  Snake had frozen at that moment, unable to say anything, unable to do anything.  Not even caring when the cops came and took him away.  All he saw was that rising puddle of crimson.

This couldn't be Taylor. Taylor was dead and this man was years younger and he wore glasses.  Snake and Taylor were the same age but the resemblance between this boy and his best friend was eerie.  Could it be his eyes? He'd lost a lot of blood, could he be seeing things?

"No, Snake, " the young man spoke. He even sounded like Taylor. "It's me Tim, remember? We met when you came home with my brother once."

Tim.

Yes, Snake did remember. Taylor had a  kid brother.  A little runt of a thing that spent most of the time buried in his books. "Timothy?" Snake managed to whisper, recalling what Taylor's mother had called the kid.

"Yeah," He smiled pleased that Snake remembered him, even after all this years. "That's me."

Snake leaned back against the wall, letting it support his weight because he could barely stand.  The gun remained pointed though.  It had been a long time since those days and even if Snake did know him, he wasn't about to trust him yet.

Taylor looked at him with concern, estimating just how badly Snake had been wounded and realising with far more clarity than Snake gave him credit, that if those wounds were not tended to quickly, we would die. "Snake," he explained, "when I saw them bringing you through the End Zone, I knew they were going to kill you.  I waited until after I heard the Englishman shoot and then followed Miranda close enough to see where they dumped you. I came as soon as it was clear."

It felt like he was telling the truth, Snake thought, mainly because the Taylor he knew was never any good about lying over anything to him.  Still this was not Taylor, even though the family resemblance was very strong.  However, he had to face the reality of his situation, he did not have a choice to be overly selective of whose help he took.  He either trusted Tim now or he'd die where he was standing, far sooner than if the kid pulled the trigger himself.

"If this is a set up, Taylor's brother or not, I'll kill you." Snake warned, holstering the weapon at last.

Tim let out a sigh. "Same old Snake," he smiled coming towards him. "Trusting soul aren't you?"

"I've been hurt before." Snake remarked as Taylor took his arm and slung it around his own shoulder for support.

"I'll be fine on my own." Snake said uncomfortably as they started walking up the way Taylor had come.

"Snake, you've been hurt bad.  Trust me, I do have a plan for getting out here."

"That'll be a first since I got here." Snake retorted, deciding after a moment that he was to weak to argue further. Besides, despite his reluctance to admit it, using Taylor's support did make walking a great deal easier. "Where are we going?"

"To Sanctuary Snake," the young man replied. "To Sanctuary."

CHAPTER FIVE

I

He smelled disinfectant.

Sharp and acrid, it brought to mind definitive images of things clinical and sterile.  Even in the darkness, that one smell was more telling than anything that could be represented by a visual image.  It immediately associated itself with things like bright white lights and nurse running up and down aisles in pristine white clothes as they stuck thermometers down  your throats and needles up your ass.  Disinfectant made him think of words like hygiene, radiology and Doctor Kildare.

It made him think of hospitals.

Which was precisely where Snake Plissken found himself when he woke up.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a white ceiling above the bed whose sheets he was tucked comfortably in.  For a moment, it all swirled in on him, consciousness that is.  Once the room stopped spinning, he was able to focus a little more clearly on where he was.  Snake tried to remember his last memory before waking up to find himself here.  Most prevalent in his mind were the sounds of gunshots. They seemed to tear through the fabric of all conscious and unconscious memory inside his head.  He remembered the pain of bullets tearing through his skin most clearly and his blood pulsing out of his body in red rivulets and the white hot agony that followed sharply behind.

Instinctively, he looked under the covers of the clean sheets covering his body and examined his chest.  Where he recalled seeing discoloured and broken flesh, there was now  a clean white bandage wrapped around his chest.  The same thing applied to the wound on his side.  The pain was still there but he was familiar enough with the sensation to know that he had been given some drugs to cope with it.  The IV next to his bed pumped nutrients into his veins.  As he scanned the room ahead, he knew without question that he was in a hospital room of some kind.

The last thing he recalled clearly was struggling through the darkness of the sewers under Taylor's guidance and there was some mention of Sanctuary.  He had not paid much attention at the time at what Taylor had actually said, being m ore interested in actually getting there.  He had let Taylor lead him through the maze of tunnels under the Zone.  Some time later, they emerged into the night.  The last conscious thought Snake could recall was that of a car and collapsing into the back seat where he was mercifully allowed to rest.

Now that he was feeling better, Snake sat up slowly in his bed.  He tried not to aggravate his injuries more than he needed to.  On the opposing wall was a window and beyond its glass was  a spectacular view of trees and a well-kept lawn.  It was a bright, sunny day outside and it seemed far removed from any place to be found in the Zone.  Snake could hear voices beyond his room but these voices were soft and marked with the discipline one associated with a  hospital environment.  His clothes and boots, he noticed, were freshly laundered and folded neatly on a nearby arm chair at the corner of the room.  He ran his hand over his face and realised, to his disgust,  that someone had decided to give him a shave as well.

This must be Sanctuary.

Suddenly, he heard a soft sigh on the other side of his bed and Snake looked over and saw a sleeping figure curled up in a chair.  She shifted half asleep, flicking a strand of luxuriously sheeny auburn coloured hair from her face.  Snake simply stared for a moment. She was, in his recent experience, the most beautiful woman, he had seen in a long time.  With slightly tanned skin and soft, pouty lips, she was dressed in a plain t-shirt, figure hugging jeans and a pair of soft sneakers. She was also wearing a white doctor's coat and the stethoscope that hung around her neck, completed the ensemble.

She shifted again, trying to make herself more comfortable in her chair.  This was no easy feat considering the chair was not very accommodating.  He watched her for a moment, curious by her presence in his room but remaining silent because he was enjoying taking in the site of her.  Despite the smell of disinfectant in the room, he could make out the barest whiff of her perfume.  It was s soft and lingering scent, probably floral he decided. Women loved that kind of stuff.  She was at least a decade younger than she was, certainly not more than thirty.  Snake studies the soft lines of her face, the length of her smooth neck, moving down to the sensuous curves of her breasts.  It had been a long time since he had seen a woman like this.  What he and men like him normally referred to as a 'class act'.

Her eyes fluttered open and Snake found himself at the receiving end of a stare from her full, green eyes. She saw up quickly, realising that he was awake and embarrassed that she had been caught like this.  Trying to maintain some air of dignity, she stood up quickly and winced under her breath when her lethargic muscles refused to cooperate.  Her build, Snake decided was small and petite. She was not very tall but she looked as if she worked out.

"Good morning." She spoke first, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she straightened her clothes and ran her fingers through her wavy red hair. "How do you feel Mr Plissken?"

"Better." He answered still staring at her. "How long have I been here?"

"Almost a week." She said automatically. "Taylor brought you in last Wednesday."

"I was out for a week?" Snake exclaimed. He could not believe he had lost nearly seven days without knowing it.  He must have been in bad shape.

She saw the expression on his face and gathered immediately what he was thinking.  "Yes," she nodded gravely. "You're lucky to be alive.  The bullet hit your lung and collapsed it." Her voice switched to its physician professionalism because she wanted to make certain he did not underestimate the severity of his injuries. "It missed your heart by a fraction. If Taylor had not brought you to us, we would be referring to you in the past tense, Mr Plissken."

"Call me Snake." He said lying back into the pillows.

"She smiled at that but chose to continue with her diagnosis of his condition.  "I got you on the table as soon as you arrived.   You had massive blood loss, shock and severe thoracic trauma. The other injury on your side is just a flesh wound. The bullet passed through there without hitting any of the vital organs. You're lucky I was a chest cutter."

"So you are surgeon?" He inquired. There were doctors and then there were surgeons.

"You can call me Kate." She replied. "Now lie back, I need to check  your bandages and see if its time for another dressing."

Snake eased back into his pillows and watched her move the sheets aside, exposing his chest. She examined the bandages carefully before her hand slid across his stomach to inspect the other wound.  As it was, no blood had seeped through the present dressing that pleased her.   Leaning over him, Snake could smell the sweet fragrance of her hair and basked in it for a while. Her feminine scent leapt out at him and he took  a deep breath of her, enjoying the closeness.

"Be gentle with me." He remarked.

Kate stood upright at that. A hint of amusement in her eyes as her gaze met his. For a moment, it looked as if she might have been blushing but it was hard to tell on her tanned skin and Snake was no expert. "You're not what I expected Mr Plissken.. I mean Snake."

"Compared to what?" He asked, deciding to keep his mind of more primitive instincts.  He began to look around to see if there were any of his cigarette in the room.

"Let's face it, your reputation is infamous." She pointed out. "Since you've been here, I've had people constantly on my back wanting to know if you're going to pull through or not.  You're quite a celebrity. Actually I thought you'd be taller."

"The same could be said about you." Snake scowled.

"Touché." She smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," he admitted. He had not eaten since before this whole thing began and he could feel the faint stirring of a stomach unhappy at being fed from an IV bottle.

"I'll get Judy to bring you some breakfast." She nodded before moving to the foot of his bed where his chart was. "What were you doing in Vancouver Island, Snake?"  The tone of her voice indicated that her interest was more than curiosity.

"I came here to find Sanctuary." Snake answered. "Some guy at Tacoma said it was a pretty good place to be.  Unfortunately, he had a bad set of direction."

Her eyes softened at that and the jagged edged of suspicion withered away for something else.  Snake was almost certain it was relief.  "So you came to Sanctuary and walked straight into the Zone." She let out a sigh.  "I wish we could do something about that.  A lot of people hear about Sanctuary through rumours or third hand reports. Many of them try coming here and end up with that bastard on the other side of the Territory.

"Yeah," Snake agreed since he had walked into that same predicament. Once again, the Englishman's face flashed in memory. His face and the bullets that nearly killed Snake Plissken.  "How long do I have to be in here?"

"At least a week." Kate answered firmly, indicating that she would tolerate no argument from him on this matter. She guessed accurately that Snake Plissken was not a man who would agree to a lengthy convalescence but he was not invulnerable and she was not about to treat him as such. "Then we'll see. You've had a pretty rough ride.  You need to rest and recover.  No matter how invincible you think you are, you have stitches that need time to hold firm and heal. Tear them em and I'll have you sedated until they do.  Are we clear on this?"

"Crystal." He replied with no doubt that she would carry out her threat if she believed he was harming himself. "Anybody got a cigarette around here?"

"I do in fact," Kate remarked tapping the top pocket of her coat where a pack was hidden within.  "Unfortunately, you are not having one.  You have a chest wound and for some odd reason, I have this doctor thing about letting you poison it for the moment. You're going to have to try gum until then."

"A cigarette is not going to kill me." He retorted because he wanted one badly. "Baby."

She bristled at being called that. "Not in my hospital." She said to him with ice in her voice. "When  you are discharged, I'll light you one myself but not until then."

Snake let out a sigh of resignation, realising it would not be wise to anger her when she was the most incredible looking female he had ever seen.  Even though he did not like doctors at the best of times, he had a feeling there was more to her than met the eyes. Then again, he could also be thinking with another part of his anatomy.  "Okay, just no needles. I don't like them." He stated seriously.

Kate smiled, finding it very hard to dislike him despite his abrasive manner. Still, she was starting to understand enough about him to know that the Snake Plissken legend was mostly about image.  He  hid everything under that cool exterior and masculine bravado.  "You're a tough guy. You can handle it. I'll try to be gentle."

His eye sparked with mischief. "Is that a promise."

Kate laughed not missing the obvious pass.  Well, he was a man after all.  "I guess you are getting better." She began walking towards the door.

"Why were you asleep in here?" He asked before she had a chance to leave.

She had forgotten all about that. "You're the first person I've performed surgery on for quite some time.  I just wanted to make sure no complications arose.  You're my only star patient you know."

"That's flattering."

She gave him a look and then left.

II

From the middle aged Inuit nurse named Judy, Snake learnt that his doctor's name was Kate Ellison. When Judy served him breakfast that morning, Snake had never thought he would admit that the aroma of bacon and eggs could be so satisfying.  Since he was the only patient in intensive care at the moment, she was able to spend a bit of time with him.  Not that he wanted it but Judy was more than happy to answer any questions he had about Sanctuary. Snake also believed she was somewhat enamoured by Snake Plissken's celebrity.  As he had nothing to do but listen, he allowed her to continue since she was witness to most things that took place in Sanctuary almost from the beginning.

It had almost all to do with Kate.

When the Pulse had been detonated, Kate was just another resident at Della City County Hospital.   She and half a dozen doctors were on duty when the electro magnetic pulse set off by Snake Plissken changed the face of the world as they knew it.  Initially, there was nothing about her that distinguished her any other doctor or person who became trapped by its circumstance.  Kate's main concern at the time was to deal with the massive casualties that were coming off the streets.  Injuries ranged from car accidents, fires, electrocutions, subway's derailment and car accidents.  There was no way to accurately track any of it.

The politics that followed soon after saw the disintegration of law and order and its replacement heralded its birth by an alarming death toll as paranoia and fear set in.  Anarchy had turned people into savages, submitting to their most violent impulses under the justification that the survival of the fittest had to prevail.  By this time, Kate, as if so many others had turned the hospital into the last bastion of sanity left in a disintegrating world.  They found that she was a natural leader. People saw her ability to make quick decisions and were drawn to her whenever they needed answers.

They remained huddled in the safety of the hospital of weeks, using it to protect them form the madness raging beyond its door.  However, after a while, with so many flocking to it for safety, Kate and the fledging Inner Circle was forced to admit that they needed to expand their space.  By this time, Della City had succumbed to the worst possible chaos with the city descending rapidly into outright violence.  Mass shootings, looting's and rapes were becoming the norm.  Seeing that made Kate and her companions aware of what they were up against.  There could be no safety anywhere if this kind of carnage were allowed to continue.  Realising that someone had to do something, Kate and her Inner Circle went out in search of the law, if it still existed.

Avoiding gangs and thugs who were running rampant throughout the city, Kate gathered al the remaining RAMP officers still alive and brought they back to hospital.  Some were badly injured, having struggled to stave off the violence rampaging through the city.  Most were simply reeling from the sudden shift in the order of things.  They were disorganised and confused, unable to cope without a chain of command to direct their efforts to attack the current crisis.  Kate nursed these men back to health and with a growing band of followers, emerged to reclaim the city.

Most people welcomed the return to some form of law and order.  Most were more than willing to follow the lead of someone strong enough to take control of the situation.  Kate Ellison seemed to be that person.  With the consolidation of law and order, Della City began to return to some semblance of normalcy. It took time.  People died on both sides but Kate and others like her, learnt how to use guns.  They learnt how to protect  themselves and organise campaigns as effectively as commanders going to battle.  The reclamation of Della City progressed like a war with battle lines drawn and territories to gain.

Kate had understood one other thing.  In order to bring law and order, it required the cooperation of everyone including the thugs who were causing much of the violence.  Protected by the RMCP, she approached the criminal element and offered them a place in the new society she was trying to rebuild.  These were angry, aggressive people, unafraid to do the deeds most flinched at, she believed. There was no reason to keep them out of everything.  Instead, she asked for their involvement and showed them sympathy and respect when she did it.  Her arguments to them that there was a new dawn to be built and they were needed to make it work, appealed  to those who had been considered outcasts in the age before.  A surprising number chose to accept her proposal.

After that, it was easy enough to get things going again.  The first order of business was to gather all engineers and tradesmen together and devise a method of returning power to their beleaguered city.  Just because the Pulse had destroyed much of their technology did not mean that all of it was useless. There were ways to build a circuit board, etching methods that could be employed to replace electronic methods.  It was no easy task but people were organised to make a start. It was a difficult process and often with disappointing results in the beginning but eventually power was restored in a limited fashion.  Hospitals were soon running and schools were open.

Shortly after this, Ebola arrived.

The appearance of disease in Della City, coincided with the massive influx of refugees fleeing from Victoria City and the Englishman's power struggles.  Reports received from the city told the residents of Della of all kinds of atrocities, massacres, rapes and shootings.  No one in Della could turn these people away and one of these carried Ebola.  It did not take long for the first sign of the outbreak.  Once the symptoms were diagnosed, Kate did not waste time by allowing panic or hysteria to get loose in her city.  The infected were quickly rounded up and kept in a sealed environment observing strict quarantine procedures.  Unfortunately, no amount of quarantine could protect anyone totally from Ebola Zaire.  Kate and the other doctors were forced to treat patients in tight containment suits.  Even with precautions, nearly two thirds of the population of Della City was wiped out.

Once the crisis was over, there was nothing left to do but clean  up and move on.  The dead were mourned and buried. Their absence marked by the scores of empty homes, the deserted school yards and the quiet streets all across the city.  Those who remained went on as always, trying to make do.  Fortunately, more people began arriving from Victoria City, usually after perilous escapes.  Soon, they called Della City, Sanctuary.  The name stayed and Della City was forgotten because Sanctuary was their home now.

The war with the Englishman followed soon after.

It was not a war as such. Although enough blood had been shed on both sides to warrant such a claim.  Angered by all the people fleeing his authority, the Englishmen sent his lieutenants to Sanctuary to demand the expulsion of all escapees from its territory and return them to the Zone.  Kate, with the full support of the Circle, flatly refused. Having heard the horror stories from those who had escaped the Zone, she would not allow anyone to return to a reality of mass detentions, wholesale murder and enforced slavery.  Such horror was too much for the Sanctuary Circle to capitulate to one man's demands to turn a blind eye.

Despite their idealism however, they had to be realistic.  Kate knew that the Englishman had an arsenal of his own. He had street gangs to enforce his will. Even though it offended her sensibilities, Sanctuary did not have the strength to go after the Englishman in his own territory.  She did however suspect that her refusal to comply to his demands would put Sanctuary at threat.  Dealing with thugs and hoodlums had taught her a few things.  She knew enough to recognise that the man was a genuine threat.  Secretly, the Inner Circle instigated several expeditions to the main land, in particular to America where weapons were easily obtainable.  Travelling in large trawlers, they were able to retrieve quite an arsenal of their own.  After several supply runs were made, Sanctuary was more than ready to take on the Englishman.

The first raids took place soon after Sanctuary had refused his demands.  Sanctuary was able to repel them easily.  It became a requirement for almost everyone to learn the use of a gun.  Kate herself included. When the attack finally came in force, the Englishman received an unpleasant surprise.  The actual battle was fought in the thick forests separating the two territories. Using gorilla tactic that they made us as they went, Sanctuary was able to force Englishman back.

Humiliated, the warlord returned home.  Shortly after, Kate offered the Englishman a treaty of non aggression, defining their territories in which they had to remain.  Stung and angry, the Englishman had little choice but to comply.

Kate knew their troubles with the Englishman were far from over.  In Sanctuary, they lived with the knowledge that the Englishman would not be satisfied until they were all dead. More than anyone else, Kate was aware of how much of the Englishman's hatred was directed at her.  Not only was she a woman but she had beaten him at his own game and his rage was murderous.  She understood that his desire to victory would be fuelled by a personal vendetta and the only way to end it with any finality was to kill him.  Neither she nor the Circle was prepared to do that just yet.

The peace between the Zone and Sanctuary was one balanced on a knife's edge. In Sanctuary,  everyone was perfectly aware of how tenuous that balance was.  Each time they took in more refugees, they knew they were opening themselves to Zone's wrath.  Yet there was no way they could turn a blind eye to these people's desperation. 

Beyond that, what else could they do?

CHAPTER SIX

I

Damn, he needed a cigarette.

He had spent most of the time in this hospital bed dying for one, flipping through the old magazines, staring longingly at the glossy Virginia Slims advertisements and wanting to get out of this asylum as quickly as possible.  He gave the latter idea up the first time he tried to stand up on his own.  Despite how well he believed he felt, the pain that cut through him sharply, reminded Snake that most of it was a mask made of pain killers and anaesthetic not quite worn off yet.  Fortunately, this discovery was made in the privacy of his own room, so he was able to struggle back into the bed without anyone being the wiser.  It had been a long time since all he was required to do was rest, so finally he chose to make the best of a lousy situation and just enjoy it.

Judy who was the day nurse, often came by and checked on him. She would change his dressing whenever it required it and gave Snake an opportunity to see how badly he had been hit.  The bullet hole in his chest was replaced by a thin line of discoloured tissue, with angry red welts where the skin was broken.  He had to admire the neatness of the stitches across his skin and wondered how long it would take to heal. To her credit, Snake had to admit,  Doctor Ellison did nice work

Taylor dropped by that evening and in the light of day, Snake saw the resemblance to his best friend was very uncanny.  Little Timothy had all his dead brother's features, from the wide blue eyed look of the boy next door, to the unassuming manner in which he carried himself.  The Taylor Snake knew however, wore his hair long and sported a goatee, which he could never keep from becoming a beard.   His brother however, wore his hair at shoulder length, with a fringe that kept getting into his bespectacled eye.  Seeing him made Snake remember how old he was getting and how much he had missed his best friend.

"Hi Snake," Taylor announced upon his arrival. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," Snake nodded in response. "I owe you one."

"It was nothing." The younger man said uncomfortably, pulling up a chair.  "You would have done the same."

"I don't suppose you got a cigarette?" Snake asked hopefully.

"Sorry." Taylor looked apologetic. "Don't smoke."

Snake scowled unhappily.  "What were you doing up in the Zone?" Snake felt compelled to ask, since conversation was going to have to do in place of a smoke. 

"I gather intelligence." Taylor replied, unafraid of hiding it from Snake. He knew Snake Plissken by reputation and through the few times when Snake accompanied his brother Rob to their home town of Bellingham.  Snake Plissken was many things, but he was not a man who sold out friends. "I hang around the Zone picking up information about the Englishman and anything worth reporting back. That's my job around here."

"You could get your ass shot off." Snake pointed out.

"Yeah," he smiled bashfully. "Someone's got to do it and I'm not the only one around who does it.  There are a lot of our people hanging around the Zone, listening into the news."

Snake remembered something.  Moments before the Englishman had slammed another bullet into him, the bastard had been boasting about Sanctuary. How pretty soon he was going to finish them off and how he was going to have Kate when it was all over.  That seemed to indicate that the son of a bitch had a plan in mind to make this happen. "I think you ought to be listening closer."

He looked at Snake with bewilderment.

"Before he put one into me," Snake answered, "he seemed pretty sure that he'd have this place wrapped up very soon. Sounds to me like the man has got a plan and if you have no idea what that is, you're in a lot more trouble than you know."

Taylor's expression hardened and now the young man looked back at him with eyes that were grave and focused. He looked very much like his older brother at that moment and Snake wondered if those traits included his best friend's  steel.  Of course, the kid was no coward. Doing spook work was no easy thing.  The risks were large enough, not to mention the consequences to himself if they should ever catch him.  In nothing else, Snake had to admire him for that.

"Are you sure about this?" Taylor asked quietly.

Snake's answer was a look.

"Shit," he cursed lightly. "I've been hearing rumours." Then after a moment, recanted that statement. "No, not rumours, more like whisper really.  Something under the surface that no one wants to talk about. I thought it was the usual you know, everyone is shit scared in the Zone. Still," he paused a moment and lapsed into thought. "I should get back as soon as I can."

Snake rose a brow at that. "Back?"

"Yeah Snake," Taylor stared at him with an unassuming smile. "I'm a nobody to the Englishman, hardly someone whose movements are watched closely. I  move in and out all the time and he doesn't know me enough to miss my presence."

Snake didn't share his optimism or his blasé attitude to it all. Still, he had no right to say anything about it either. Even though he felt owed something to Taylor's kid brother and to the fact that the boy saved his life, Timothy was an adult now and required no interference from anyone regarding his destiny. Even Snake Plissken's.  Despite all this, Snake did feel indebted to Taylor for saving his life and felt inclined to return the favour.  Seeing him had reminded Snake about how it had been watching his best friend die and Snake would hate it if it happen to Taylor's younger brother.

"So how long have you here?" I thought you and your folks were living in Bellingham." Snake asked, deciding a change of subject was required.  After Taylor had died, Snake had lost contact with the family, mainly because he was moving from one situation to another.  He was curious however, at how young Timothy had come to be here.

"That's right,' the young man nodded in response. "I was at Berkeley when the Pulse hit," he spoke with no trace of any knowledge that it was Snake who had set off the electro-magnetic wave that had changed all their lives.  Snake felt some relief at that. " I was finishing my degree in Computer Engineering." For a moment, Taylor paused as if remembering that past life was a painful effort.  His eyes glazed over at the loss of what his life could have been instead of what it was now.  The sadness was profound.  "It took me a few months to get back. Things were crazy then, you remember? Martial law, Ebola, Christ knows what else. I got across travelling on horses, boats and even steam engines, you name it." He chuckled softly, but his laugh was hollow.

"They were gone when I got back." He said quietly.

Snake had expected just as much, but said nothing, allowing Taylor to continue.

"The people who were still around in Bellingham told me that Ebola got them and their bodies were put to the torch by the town doctors."  Snake saw grief in Taylor's eyes, almost as fresh as his own once was, whenever he thought about his mother and father.  "I stayed in town for awhile," Taylor continued. "I didn't know what else to do really. One day, Evans and some of the others came around for supplies and asked me if I'd like to come back with them. I thought why not, there was nothing for me around there any way."

"I'm sorry," Snake answered, unable to think of anything else to say. A part of him felt responsible.  Despite the years and the moral justification he used to make himself feel better for what he had done, he still had difficulty facing people like Taylor and others like  him.  When Snake Plissken had detonated the Pulse, it was for many reasons.  Initially, it was the ultimate form of revenge Snake could inflict on those in power who had used him one time too many. Later however, he knew he did for other reasons too.  Like the fact that the rest of the world would not have tolerated the President of the United States holding them to ransom and the war which would result made Leningrad look like a church picnic. No matter how much he detested everything about the States, he couldn't imagine an American run by a foreign power.

He had believed it was time to turn things off.

People had become so fucked up that they didn't even care about what happened beyond their petty lives. Most were too stupid to realise what was happening because they were too hooked into their cable televisions, their flashy BMWs and their information super highway, commercial Coca Cola and Hollywoods inspired dream world. To stupid to realise that the men appointed to run it all were doing unspeakable things. Snake had honestly believed the Pulse was a necessary step because the human race could not progress otherwise.

Still, how does one explain that to someone like Taylor. A high minded principle was going to be very cold comfort after the loss of an entire family or a loved one. He didn't doubt that people who knew believed he was responsible for the loss of more lives than any man in history.  Not simply because he had turn things on, but because it resulted in the carnage that followed in the wake of the riots and Ebola Zaire.

"Hey Snake," Taylor replied, having no idea what battle Snake was having with his conscience. "Shit happens man. It was just lousy luck, but its over now. I mean I've gotten used to them being gone and life in Sanctuary's pretty good. I've got a girl, I've got friends and I even have a job." His optimism made Snake feel even worse.  "Life goes on as they say. Now that you're here, you can see what I mean.  Besides, no one kicks ass like you do."

"Right," Snake said sceptically, feeling none too invincible. "A girl huh?" He looked at Taylor. "Last time I saw you, you weren't old enough to shave."

"Well that was a while ago, Old Man."

"Very funny." He retorted. "Its not the age, its mileage." Snake said coolly. Taylor's manner really was like his late best friend, especially in his ability to put Snake at ease.  Now that Snake remembered it, his friendship with Taylor's older brother thrived because of their opposing personalities. He always seemed to be able to calm Snake down when Snake was too angry to think straight.

God, Snake missed him.

"So I hear Kate's your doctor?" Taylor inquired.

"Yeah." Snake replied, unable to keep the momentary reflection from his voice at the mention of her name.  "I met her."

The kid didn't miss the reaction, no matter how slight it was. Timothy Taylor remembered Snake Plissken well in his youth.  Despite the fact that Snake had seen him as a kid, Taylor had been in awe of his big brother's best friend.  In college, he followed Snake's adventurers closely and knew that there was never any mention of his being connected to any woman, despite all the media hype that followed the New York rescue and later the debacle in Cleveland.  Taylor knew enough about the man to know what his brother thought so much about.

"She's something isn't she?"  Taylor replied.

Snake was not about to let the kid in on any more than he was already privy to.  Especially when it came to Kate Ellison, although the truth be known, there was nothing to let him in on an way.  At the  moment, Snake found her incredibly attractive and that put her in no different position than any other woman he'd known before.

Sure Snake, tell yourself that long enough and you might believe it.

"If you say so."

"Relax Snake," Taylor remarked seeing the man tense up at the mention at her name. Kate must have really had an effect on Snake Plissken, Taylor decided. He wondered how the undisputed though unofficial leader of Sanctuary would have thought about that if she knew.  He supposed if anyone could win Kate Ellison it would have to be someone like Snake. 

"Every guy has thought about her at one time or another, she has that kind of effect on men."

"Not me." Snake said firmly.  The little voice inside of him spoke when he said that.

Liar.

II

Snake didn't see Kate until later that evening.

He'd spent hours talking about nothing much with Taylor, beating him at poker and getting the dirt on how things were at Sanctuary.  More than ever, Snake wished that there were still television stations left. The boredom was beyond belief and if he didn't feel so damn weak from his wounds, he would have been out of here already. Unfortunately, he did feel weak and that left Snake with little choice but to stay put. He'd read all the magazines and old newspapers in the place and he was still itching for a cigarette.  In fact, when she had walked in to his room, Snake had decided that he was going to get dressed and leave, damn the stitches.

Kate walked in looking weary and tired, however he noticed she was packing a six pack of bottled beer which she put on his table.  "How are you doing?" She asked quietly, as she examined his chart at the foot of the bed.

"I'm not doing much." He declared. "You look tired though," he observed.

"I'm always tired." She dead panned as she studied his medical chart. "Well you look okay on paper." She said approving of what she saw there.  Replacing the chart back on its hook, Kate went to the visitor's chairs and sat down before breaking open the plastic holding the six pack together. "You're well enough to have one of these." She answered handing him a bottle.

Snake took it from her and was mildly pleased to feel its icy coolness against his hands. These days, cold beers were a luxury item with the absence of electricity.  He did note however that the beers had been resealed, so it was a pretty fair guess that the contents were from a recent still and not the original product. Nevertheless, he wasn't complaining. It would do for now in place of a cigarette.  "What's the occasion?" He inquired.

Kate smiled wearily, her tired gaze resting on the view outside the window.  "No occasion.  We've been busy today, a new batch of people came across the border today. I didn't have a chance to stop by earlier to see how you were. So, you're my last stop before I head home."

Snake snapped the top of the bottle, allowing fermenting gases to escape with a soft hiss. Pressing it against his lips, he took a long, deep taste.  Even though it tasted different, it was none the less as satisfying as the real thing.  It almost replaced his craving for a cigarette. Almost.

"You bring all your last stops beer?"

"No, I thought you'd be climbing the walls without a cigarette." She retorted, dropping her gaze on him for the first time. "I'm still not letting you have one, but I guessed you needed to take the edge of." With that she took a sip from her bottle.

Snake could  have thought of better ways to take the edge of, but chose to keep those kinds of thoughts to himself for now.  "I still want a cigarette, " Snake replied and then added, "baby."

"I am not your baby." She said haughtily, although she didn't sound offended at all. "Although I can't understand why you haven't pissed me off by calling me that."

"Its my charm." He admitted, his lips curling into the faintest trace of a smile.

"I doubt that." She answered even though she was chuckling a little. "So why do they call you Snake?  Is it because of the tattoo?"

Snake realised she would have seen the famous tattoo when he was under the table and ignored the question. "So you run this place?"

Her mood changed considerably and she sat straight in the chair, obviously uncomfortable about the title.  "You've been talking to Judy." Kate answered, her voice taut.

"She has a lot to say."

"That figures." She said sarcastically. "Look, things were going to hell. I said what needed saying. That doesn't make me Joan of Arc. I am a doctor, that's all I ever wanted to be.  I wish people would stop looking to me for all the answers!  There are a lot more people I couldn't help then the ones I did and I'm sure they'd disagree with my supposed heroics!"

"Don't mean shit to me," Snake said coolly, unaffected by her outburst. "I just asked."

She calmed down after that, feeling a little silly over her reaction.  "Sorry," she said meekly. "It just gets to me sometimes. I mean the way people look at me, always thinking I have the solution to all their problems, which most of the time I don't. I stumbled into this like everyone else here, I mean I don't even carry a gun. Two years ago, I wouldn't have known anything about planning and strategy and yet when the shit hits the fan, they look at me to come up with a brilliant idea to save the day. I mean people look at me and think I'm some kind of role model. Do I look like a funking role model?"

Her response amused Snake more than anything, although he was somewhat surprised to find that his interest in her plight was genuine.  He supposed it couldn't be easy being what she was, especially if it was as she had said, just dumb luck. "Not really.  Although the talk I hear, is most men think of scoring with you."

She stopped short at the remark and looked at him, adequately diffused. Without saying anything further, she started laughing which was a sound that made him smile. After a moment, she composed herself and looked at him again.  "You're not what I expected, you know." The warmth in her voice was genuine.

"What did you expect?" He asked, a brow raised in anticipation of what she would say.

"I don't know." She answered him honestly. "When Taylor brought you here, I was sort of worried. Your reputation precedes you. I thought you would be the kind of man who'd be more comfortable in the Zone than you would be here.   I mean we're not much in Sanctuary, just a lot of everyday people trying to get by.  Let's face it, you're larger than life.  I mean we don't have many famous outlaws in the mix, so I don't know whether you being here was a good idea or not.  Although most people are excited that you're here.  I've had kids asking me if I'm really treating Snake Plissken. I just wasn't sure how we were going to handle you."

It was a fair statement and an honest one, although a sixth sense told him her reservations were slightly abated. "And now?"

"I feel the same way." She looked him straight in the eye when she said this. "But I now think there's more to Snake Plissken than just what's been said.  I mean, why would you come to Sanctuary in the first place?"

"Peace and quiet." Snake answered without hesitation and getting as close to the truth as he was comfortable with at this point.  "Comes a time when a man's got to put this feet up and think. This sounded like the place do it. Didn't know it was going to be such a bitch getting here though."

Turning her gaze away, Kate looked up at the ceiling. "We could use your help here." She spoke, her voice had dropped to a soft whisper. "Most people haven't thought further than you being here, but I can tell you, I've thought about it.  You were a soldier once. Someone whose actually been in a war.  No one here has that kind of knowledge. If you stayed, we could use your help."

"Truth is," he admitted, "I haven't decided anything. I'm not known for my civic duties." Snake was reluctant to get too involved with anything here, not just yet anyway.

"Oh really?" She looked at him. "What would it take for Snake Plissken to care?"

There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but under the circumstances, he could understand the sentiment.  Subconsciously, he believed she'd gone out on a limb by asking for assistance. Snake had a feeling she wasn't prone to making such offers lightly, or to being so direct with someone like him.  Her directness was a refreshing change in comparison to the assholes he dealt with in the past and Snake knew that if he had an awful failing, it was a great difficulty in saying no to women in distress.  Especially one that looked Kate Ellison.

"I don't know." Snake answered finally. "I never came across the situation."

"Well there's no pressure." She said, knowing that any kind of commitment from him was a big step and one didn't rush men like Snake Plissken. That he had come this far to Sanctuary was a good sign and she didn't want to scare him off with demands of more than he was capable of just yet.  "That's not what we're about. I mean we've got every kind here, farmers, fisherman, doctors, builders, cops and crooks. Even if you decide to go, which I hope you do not. You're always welcome back. Just as long as you share a beer with me now and then." She grinned, toasting her bottle at him.

Snake shared the gesture. "Sounds to me like you need the company."

"Maybe," she looked at him mischievously, "I just can't resist that Plissken charm."

"I do that to all my women." Snake replied, staring into her face and wanting very much to known then, what it was like to touch those lips, to feel the heat of her under him as he ran his hands through her lustrous hair and feel that exotic skin.  She was everything Snake looked for in a woman and despite his cool demeanour, he couldn't remain immune to the feelings he felt whenever he looked at her.

"Believe it baby." He said huskily, his eyes m meetings her with suggestion.

She broke the gaze first, swallowing hard as she rose to her feet suddenly.   Snake smiled under his breath knowing for certain that she felt something more than just curiosity about him.  However, the moment was too new and too soon for both of them to pursue it.  Not that he was in any condition to do anything about it anyway.  He found it hard to believe that she was not attached in any way to anyone and unpardonable thoughts ran though his mind of what he would do with her, if given the chance.

"You need your rest." Kate replied, clearly flustered and shaken by the intensity of her feelings. She started moving towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting."

CHAPTER SEVEN

I

After more than week in the hospital, Snake Plissken was more than ready to leave.

Even though he was less than fully recovered, with aches and pains that reminded him constantly of his wounds, he was determine to escape the sterile environment one way or another.  Declining the customary departing wheel chair ride, he chose to leave under the power of his own feet.  He had more than enough of convalescing and the words, 'get some rest' now left a bitter taste in his mouth each time he heard it.  His doctor, Kate Ellison had been less than pleased at this premature release and had been compelled to do so only because Snake had threatened to walk out of there if she didn't.  Finally, she found little chose but to release him before he drove the entire hospital staff crazy. 

Since discharging him from hospital meant releasing him into the Sanctuary committee, the Inner Circle had appointed her his chaperone during his first formative days in the town.  Even though Kate felt Taylor would have been more suitable to the task, it was not possible since the young man had since returned to his espionage duties in the Zone.  Still, it was not a task she disliked since she had gotten to know him quite well during the week he had spent under her care.   They had spent most of the time talking, well mostly it was Kate that did most of it while he quietly listened. In the end, Snake probably knew more about her while Kate knew next to nothing about him. 

As Snake walked along side her, down the clinical white corridor of the hospital, he showed no outward sign of his injuries.  In his dark clothes, he was an imposing figure and Kate could understand how he had come by him fearsome reputation. She stole furtive glances sideways at him as they made their way out of the private wing of the hospital and it was easy then, to understand why his persona tended to strike people as enigmatic.

She knew he was in his late thirties.  To his credit, he still wore the body of someone in his twenties.  Snake certainly looked fit enough.  While she had seen most of him during the operation, it was a different thing to see Snake upright, working his muscles the way they were meant to be.  His shoulder length brown hair had neither a streak of grey in it or promised any to come.  It was necessary for her to look under his eye patch when he was brought in, so she knew from first hand experience that it looked no different from the other eye.  Professionally, she believed he still retained sight in the damaged eye, but the toxicity of the injury made it impossible to remain exposed for very long.  Even his face seemed youthful, despite the five o'clock shadow he always wore and the cool, distracted manner in which he viewed everything.

Despite herself, she was unable to deny the growing attraction she was feeling towards him.  Even though Kate was fighting it all the way, she knew eventually she would succumb to its power.  He was in essence the ultimate romantic hero, mysterious and dark.  Kate didn't need to know him for any great length of time to be aware that he guarded his feelings as fiercely as he guarded his existence.  However, after spending most of the week with him during his recovery, Kate knew enough.

There was more to Snake Plissken than most people dreamed possible.

"How are you feeling?" She inquired as the reached lift which would take them to the ground floor.   Kate still felt some reservation at discharging him so early, even if he did seem to be a good healer. Unfortunately, Snake had made it plain that he wasn't going to stay either way.  Thus, she discharged him with the reasoning that at least then he would voluntarily allow her to look in on him to ensure his wounds recovered properly.  Besides, he hardly seemed the type to pay much heed to doctors advice.

"I'm okay." Snake replied, even though he felt a little stiff under his black T-shirt.  Still, he wasn't about to tell her that though. Knowing her as he did now, Kate would probably want to stick another needle into him or something.  "Where to now?" He asked instead, shifting the conversation away from this health.

"Well," she frowned, undeceived by his tactics. "I'll give you a grand tour of the place if you like, providing you can tolerate my company for a whole afternoon." Kate smiled. "I'll show you around town, get you a place to stay while you're here."

" A place to stay?" Snake looked at her.

"Yeah," she nodded, wondering why he found that so strange. "Since the Pulse and especially after Ebola, we have a lot of houses around here that are unoccupied and fully furnished. After new people started arriving, we decided to let them have a pick of the places available.  What they choose, they're stuck with.  Half the town is still empty, so there are some nice places to choose."

"I haven't decided to stay." He pointed out.

"You still have to sleep somewhere."

He couldn't argue with that he supposed. After all, hadn't Snake come here for just this reason? To find a bit of peace and quiet, at least for awhile?  Snake didn't mind the idea of finding a place where he could kick back for awhile and a place with adequate solitude would suit him just fine.  Who knows, maybe if he did like it, Snake might stay a little longer.  "Okay," he agreed finally.

Besides, at the very least, he'd have the company of a very tasty guide.

Today he noted, Kate was not wearing the customary jeans and T-shirt she wore during her duty hours.  Even though Snake made no mention of his approval in her choice of attire, Snake was pleased at what she was wearing.  Kate unaware of his scrutiny, was wearing a thin cotton dress to suit the warm weather outside.  It hung off her shoulders, accentuating the curves of her body. Snake glanced at her occasionally, enjoying the way her body moved as she walked alongside him.

For winter, it was a nice warm day outside. They emerged into the sunlight and the skies were clear without a hint of grey.  The vibrant colours of morning leapt out at him with contrasting colours of bright green and sky blue.  It was certainly a change after seeing nothing but hospital white the past week.  While the temperature was cool in comparison with the Californian temperatures he had been used to, Snake could still feel a tickle of warmth against his skin. 

Beyond the hospital building, Snake could see Sanctuary City below him.  The town was no bustling metropolis by any means, but it was extensive and spread out over a large enough area to once be a home to several hundred thousand people.  According to Kate, the population of Sanctuary barely passed a few thousand now.  The Ebola virus had cut their numbers as brutally as it had done elsewhere. Sanctuary had only managed to recover better.

The County Hospital sat on top of a hill, flanked by some smaller buildings which once housed more specialised medical services such as optomology and physiotherapy.  It was green all the way down the hill until it met up with a four lane road that lead straight into the heart of town There were people about today, hospital staff moving across the park like courtyard, along with gardeners who worked the greenery in the surrounding grounds.

"Not bad." He remarked, unashamed to hide his admiration. After the past two years, these place was so normal that it seemed almost unreal.  He began to understand why Jonah Stone and his family had been willing to risk everything to get here from the Zone.

"Cynic." Kate retorted, taking the lead as she walked towards the half empty car park. "I've got the use of a car today." She explained. "Most of the time we tend to use motor bikes and bicycles to move around.  We have a gasoline source, but we've got to conserve as much as we can."

The car she was referring to, was a 1954 Studebaker convertible.  Despite its vintage, it looked to have recently undergone some restoration and its maroon colour shone with the glint of a new polish.  The top was down on the car, revealing a polished wood dashboard, looking very much like the day it rolled off the production line.

"We've had to dig up every old car we could find.  This is one the motor pool guys manage to restore. It probably looks better than it runs." She answered climbing into the driver's seat. "I'd like an Italian car myself, but I've never seen one that could survive the conversion." 

Snake said nothing, choosing instead to take a moment to look the Studebaker over, mostly because he was curious as to its make and model.  After a while, he climbed into the passenger seat, content to let her do the driving.

The wind picked up as they drove out of the hospital premises, becoming a strong breeze.  The air was warming up as the noon day sun rose higher in the sky and Snake eased back into the vinyl seats, savouring the ride and the quiet of the moment.  The instances like this were usually rare when he could take a moment for himself during the interludes from dangerous situation to another. When such moments arrived, Snake knew well enough to savour them for as long as it lasted.  He needed one more thing to make it perfect....

Without looking at him,  Kate could hear the man rummaging through the compartments of the car. "Cigarettes are in the glove box." She responded, a faint smile on her lips as she glanced at him with  mischief.

Snake said nothing, but reached inside the compartment and found a fresh pack of some unknown Canadian brand.  Better than nothing, he supposed.  Lighting up for the first time in a few days (unknown to her, he had helped himself to one of the staff's cigarettes during his stay in hospital), Snake was as close as he could get to pure contentment.

"Happy now?" She said sarcastically.

"Just keep driving." He retorted, his lips curling slightly into a sort of smile.

Kate chuckled softly, keeping her eyes focussed on the ahead.  Snake allowed himself to relax, savouring his cigarette and the view.  The wind had carried the scent of her perfume through the air, so he could smell her through the cigarette smoke.  It was a nice mixture.  Her hair was blowing in the wind, giving her a wild tousled look that was great to look at.  Snake tried to remember the last time he had taken a ride in a car with the top down on a nice day with a beautiful woman.

It irked him slightly when he could not.

As they started to penetrate the outskirts of the town, Sanctuary or Della as it was once called, looked like any mid western settlement.  The architectural design of the city was mostly colonial so there was a lot of brick to be seen, especially in the older buildings. The newer homes that skimmed along the coast were mostly stilted, giving  them a panoramic view of Della Falls, the majestic cascade that provided Sanctuary most of its electrical power.

"One of those is mine." Kate remarked noticing his gaze on them. 

Snake had to admit that it was a nice area and he could understand people would like to live here.  It was remote and far enough away from town to enjoy a good deal of privacy.  Considering what he knew of Kate, he could guess why she chose this area as her home.  There was a lot of forest and vegetation to hide the houses, so he doubted she had any difficulty with intruders on her privacy.

"Not bad." He commented. If he was to stay here, he wouldn't mind something like this himself.  Something secluded where no asshole could intrude on him without Snake having a pretty good idea he was coming.  In some ways, it was very defensible.  Not the kind of place where someone could sneak up on him without notice.  Snake liked that idea a lot.

Kate saw his prolonged interest as they drove past the area.  "There are still some empty houses around here." She added. "Not many people want to be too far away from town now that we don't have cars too much.  People who lived out here want privacy, so neighbourly visits are few.  Being the people person that you are, you might find that uncomfortable."

Snake gave her a look.

Kate smiled back innocently. "Come on," she put her foot down on the accelerator and speeded up. "There's a free one, just up the road from here."

Snake didn't say anything in protest.  Truth be known, little of it interested him.  However, she had said he needed to choose a place for himself during his visit here so curiosity got the better of him, to know what it looked like.  As they drove down the gravel road, they occasionally saw people on bicycles, who waved at them as they drove past. For a moment, it reminded him of another place like this, almost a lifetime in his past.  During the days when he lived in a place like this, with a family to care for.  Snake blinked, shaking those thoughts out of his mind like a bad dream.  He didn't want to think of his parents, didn't want to remember that they were gone. It was an open wound he'd never been able to heal, one he'd used to keep himself in an almost perpetual state of homicidal rage.

I'm sorry Lt Plissken, these things happen.

"You still with me Snake?" Kate's voice broke through his reverie.

Snake turned to see her looking at him with concern.  The car had come to a stop in a new place and he had hardly noticed.  They were at a new place, at the foot of a stilted house and judging from its location, the furthest one out.  It sat propped on a point, giving half the house and incredible view of the ocean and the surrounding landscape.

"Still here." Snake said shortly, climbing out of the car.

II

They had to walk up a decent flight of stairs to reach the back porch. Aside from the front driveway, the house was surrounded by tall conifers and a variety of shrubbery that made it difficult for anyone to see into the premises, from the road.  The house was laid out so that the only way to get in would be through the back since the front of the house hung partially over the edge of the cliff face.  It was constructed with a mixture of timber and modern building materials and had a somewhat rustic feel to it.

"There should be keys under the mat." Kate said stepping onto the back porch.  She went on to explain that after Sanctuary's Ebola crisis, numerous homes were left vacant and one of the least preferred jobs at the time, was cleaning out these houses.  Mainly because many people hadn't quite made it to the hospital and their dead and diseased corpses still remained where they had fallen.  When the influx of refugees into Sanctuary had started gaining momentum, a cleaning detail had gone to all the vacant houses and made them suitable for new inhabitants.

The keys sat neatly under the rubber mat in front of the porch's back door.  Opening the door, they both stepped inside and found themselves in the kitchen.  The air inside was stale and it was in bad need or airing out.  However, it was a modern kitchen, furnished in pine with all the necessary appliances and utensils  needed to make it functional.  Snake looked around casually, not really concerned with what it looked like inside, as long as it had a bed and four walls.

Moving through the house, he discovered it to be a three bedroom home, with the master bed overlooking an ocean view through a large picture window.  The walls, on the side of the house facing the ocean was constructed mainly of one way glass, allowing the owner to have lots of light and a spectacular view while maintaining his privacy.  It was fully furnished, Kate said, containing linen and other domestic things which she deemed important but he really didn't give a shit about.

"What do you think?" She inquired after they had seen everything a short time later.

"It will do." Snake answered, lighting up another cigarette.

"Okay," Kate nodded tossing him the keys, which he caught easily with one hand. "Try to contain your enthusiasm. It isn't pretty when you gush."

Snake's look tendered his response.

"Well," she sighed trying to remember the procedure in this instance. She didn't normally deal with the orientation of new arrivals at Sanctuary, but knew there was some methodology to it. "Well have to find Ben Erikson.  He's our Electrical Foreman. He'll hook power up to this place.  There are no real rationing rules, just the usual `turn it off when you're not using it' you know? I don't think he'll be able to do it today though because of where this place is. So," she took a deep breath as she continued, "you'll have to stay at my place tonight."

Snake stared at her with a meaningful glance. "You might take advantage of me." He said with a straight face.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself." She remarked walking past him, becoming used to his mild flirtations by now.  "We better get going if we're going to find him today."

Snake followed her out unable to keep a faint smile off his face.

Women were winsome things, he had decided long ago. They danced around their feelings with that infamous female logic that could sometimes be as sharp as any knife, but could also miss the barn by a country mile.  When he was in college, the women he had known were more concerned with their future careers than anything else. After the military and especially the medal, the women Snake Plissken had met were more interested in seeing him as a prized to be had.  Although his notoriety made him more attractive to them, remembering some of the women in his past. That nameless girl in the Chock Full of Nuts in New York, who had offered herself in return for escape.  Brain Helman's little sister, the Crab whom he encountered at Cleveland and of course, Taslima. Beautiful, exotic looking Taslima, whose biggest mistake was probably meeting him. Since then, there had been many of them and yet they had meant little to him but as a object of lust for a nights distraction.

Kate Ellison was another thing all together.  Women like her didn't enjoy being objects. They took their passions very seriously,  attempted to control them if they could and ignored them when they couldn't.  No woman had been able to move him as much as this in a long time. In the week he had spent in hospital, she came by almost every day to check on his progress and because he was certain, she felt something for him too.  In some insane way, they had connected in a manner Snake had never believed possible.

Usually, it didn't take him long to make his move.  His confidence in his reputation and cool demeanour often did most of the work for him.  However, Snake was perceptive enough to know that such arbitrary moves would not work on someone like Kate. Half the fun with her would be the chase and even then, he wasn't sure what the outcome would be.  If winning her over was what he really wanted because women like Kate did not go for one night stands or a few hours of sex over a cheap bottle of whisky.  If anything made him pause and think for a moment, it was words like commitment, relationship and worse yet;

Love.

***********

Unlike the Zone, Sanctuary's central hub was not a former city hall or any other building of importance.  As a matter of fact, the Inner Circle normally conducted their meetings in a place called the Slice, a small diner in the middle of town.  City hall, Kate explained was now used as an Orientation centre for incoming refugees from the Zone or the mainland. They remained there until they were able to establish their futures in Sanctuary's wider community.

As Snake and Kate emerged from the convertible, Snake saw a town with open stores, teenagers hanging out on the corners or sitting on the kerb, watching passers by, while having a smoke.  Middle aged women peddled by on their bicycles while local kids played ball in the nearby park.  With its tree lined roads and human activity, it almost seemed like the Pulse never existed.  Snake wondered if he had stepped into a time machine and emerged in a scene played out from the past of a simpler time than the one that moulded him into what he was.

The residents of Sanctuary were equally intrigued by him. The children in particular, gawked at them as he and Kate walked by them at an obsolete video store.  Even the adults slowed down as they walked or drove by to have a look at him. Everyone found a reason to pause and stare at him. Well at least they did, until Snake scowled back at them. His low profile manner didn't like the attention.

"Relax Snake." Kate replied as they reached the doors to the diner called the Island Slice.  The Slice was a brightly decorated diner with a tropical island motif, which is was not, having a large island and a palm tree painted on its glass windows.  Inside was Bermuda type table cloth on the tables and the aroma of hot coffee wafting in the air with what Snake was certain was apple pie.  Appropriate he thought, even if it was a little too precious.

The lunch time crowd was in so Snake was given a chance to look at a more diverse selection of Sanctuary's residents.  Judging from initial glances, they came from every possible avenue of life. There were fishermen in flannel clothes, a couple of guys Snake recognised immediately as bikers, some wearing American service tattoos, thick jeans and long hair.  He'd seen a few motorcycles out there and though fleetingly of the Chopper he'd lost in the Zone.  There were also ordinary people, blended together in a curious mixture of every ethnic variation. They all looked up at his arrival, some with suspicion, others with awe and some with curiosity.

Ignoring their stares, he followed Kate deeper into the room.  An amply endowed waitress with the name tag Sherrie, smiled as he brushed past her.  Snake took a moment to admire her fiery red hair and the body under the too tight uniform.  He wondered if she got paid working the tables.

Kate paused at the table situated at the far end of the room, which seemed intentionally secluded.  A group of people sat around it, minding cups of coffee and such, as well as a stack of paper.  "Hi people." She greeted.

A chorus of greeting sounded from the group, made up of four women and seven men.

"This is Snake Plissken." She introduced.

Like they didn't already know, he thought silently to himself.  Snake said little, choosing to respond with a quick nod of his head.  He didn't pay much attention to the introduction but showed enough interest to make them believe he was listening. If it was necessary for him to remember later on, he would work something out.

"We're working on the idea of positioning sentry posts along the border." The tall, black man at the head of the table declared, more to Kate than him. "I thought it would help if we had some advance warning before the Zoners decide to hit." Snake recalled his name was Duke Washington and tried hard not to associate him with the self appointed king of New York City from his jaded past.

"Its a good idea." Kate agreed. "How far along the border."

"We're working that out right now." Jennifer Lopez replied. Jennifer looked about Kate's age but was much plainer looking.  She eyed Snake suspiciously and her dislike was obvious.  "You're the expert Mr Plissken, what do you think?"

All eyes at the table turned to him and Kate was about to intervene  when Snake responded to what clearly was a challenge.  He glanced at the map on the table and noted the points marked for sentry position. "I think you better be prepared to lose a lot of sentries."

"How's that?" Came the reply from an older man, after the gasps of surprise had died down. The man sort of reminded Snake of Bob Hauke and that wasn't good.  Like him, the man called Tristan Evans was sharp featured and had dark, piercing eyes. Cop eyes.

Snake lit himself a cigarette before he spoke, leaving everyone to wait for him to answer.  Kate, he noticed, was more amused than anything else. Exchanging a glance with her, he turned to the others again. "People in the Zone don't give a fuck about your treaty.  They're just bidding their time.  When they break it, they'll come over in force and kill anyone in their way, including your sentries. The Zoners aren't stupid, they're not going to allow sentries time to get back here and warn you."

Washington let out a large exhale.  Lopez turned away and the others shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.  Only Evans held Snake's gaze and right away Snake knew that if Kate was gone, this man could step into her place quite easily as Sanctuary's unofficial leader. Finally, the man spoke. "He's right. We've met them ourselves.  The Englishman has got crazies on his payroll. He'll just cut our people down and move on."

Looking up at Snake, Evans added. "You're pretty good war hero.  Do you have any better suggestions about what we ought to do?"

"Maybe." Snake replied.

This made them look at him again.

"Let me look at the map." Snake asked.

Ben Erikson who was Snake's age and looked like a poster boy Marine recruit, with blond hair and blue eyes unfolded the map in front of Snake. Flattening it out on the table before showing the area which constitutes the border between the Zone and Sanctuary.

Snake examined it for a minute and then realised how green these people were. The closest any of them had ever probably come to any type of military service, was likely to be the cop and cop didn't fight wars, nor did they have any idea how to.  Suddenly, Snake realised why Kate had said that they needed someone like him.  "The border runs through some pretty thick forests and hills. Use the natural obstacles. The Zoners are mostly urban, they like their cars too much so they aren't likely to come through the forests. A patrol would do you better than actual sentry posts.  Where there are roads, post sentries under cover.  If the border is breached, they'll at least get out alive to warn you."

"Not bad." Evans said after a moment, while the others considered his suggestions more carefully. "You're a useful guy to have around, war hero."

"So they say."

"Are you sticking around?" Duke asked.

"I don't know." Snake said truthfully. "Lets just say I'm passing through for the moment."

"Pity." Evans remarked. "You could show us civvies a thing or two."

Snake stared into his eyes. "I still might."

CHAPTER EIGHT

I

They left the diner an hour later.

Kate said little as they walked out of the diner and her silence was unusual.  He was certain she'd have some comment to make after he had spent the last hour giving the Inner Circle alternate ideas to tackle their plans to post sentry guards at their territorial borders.  He hadn't intended to become that involved, but the more they got into discussing the subject, the more Snake found he was able to help.

It had been a long time since he'd actively been involved in planning strategy within a group, not since the war and Leningrad.  Despite his detached attitude towards the whole thing, he couldn't help feel the same excitement that he always had when a good plan was coming together with good ideas.  Even more so, when they took so much stock everything he said.

The more he thought about it, he realised Kate hadn't said much during the hour either.  In fact, she had spent most of the hour sitting back and letting things proceed on their own.   They were halfway down the street and she still hadn't spoken, even though her expression indicated that she was in deep thought.  She didn't look upset or anything, just meaningful and Snake was curious to know what she had on her mind.  Still if offended his cool demeanour to have to ask her.  It might give her the mistaken impression that he cared.

"You're quiet."  He asked finally.

Why did you do that?" She asked, looking at him seriously.

"Do what?" He asked innocently, getting the feeling he would need a cigarette for this subject.

"I didn't think you wanted to involve yourself with us."

"I didn't." He answered shortly, knowing exactly what she was referring to despite her offhanded inquires. "They asked me."

"Sure." Kate nodded looking ahead again. For a moment, it looked to her like he could have been another one of the people who lived their lives in Sanctuary. Except in reality, he felt nothing for them and that angered her.  In some ways it would have been so much simpler if he would just let down his guard and let them show him they were worth knowing.  On some level, Kate knew Snake wanted to be apart of the whole, even though he showed every outward signs of denial.

He was what he was she supposed. A man who lived his entire life travelling at break neck speed, always heading for catastrophe.  Yet, always managing to survive, by barely the skin  of his teeth.  In the past few days, she had started to care for him more than she would like to admit. However, caring for Snake Plissken was about as foolhardy as one could possibly get.   She knew this and told herself repeatedly that it was a very bad idea to begin with.  Snake Plissken came with a  notorious reputation, well known even in Canada.  Before he Pulse, he was someone she'd read about in the newspapers or glanced at in passing curiosity in newspapers.  Never did she have to look at him as a real person, or have cause to wonder why he did what he did.

The Pulse changed a lot of things and now it seemed she found him face to face in her life. He who was a criminal, war hero and a mercenary for hire, not to mention an occasional national hero. Why did she feel like she had some claim on him?  Why did he matter so much to her?

"Where to now?" He asked trying to break the uncomfortable silence .  He was perfectly aware she was pissed off about something, although what that was, he couldn't guess. Besides, who could figure women out any way?

"I thought we'd walk around town a bit.  You need to know where to get supplies, food, beer, that sort of thing." Kate answered.  "There are a couple of stores around here.   We don't use  money because food is rationed and things like cigarette and alcohol are specialty items.  You get what's available."

"From stores?" Snake looked at her.

"Yeah," she smiled bashfully, casting her gaze at a shop front directly ahead.  Its wares were obvious from the smells drifting from the trucks parked alongside of it.  The odour of fish and brine wafted across the street for a short distance.  Men in thick rubber gloves and fishing boots helped to unload plastic crates before disappearing into the establishment. 

Along the street, there were other similar stores. In some essence it was like any busy shop row, except these were ration stops and no money exchanged hands.  They existed because of the community's need for some semblance of continuity from their past lives and because trade was conducted under the principle of an exchange of services. 

As Kate explained it as they walked on, everyone in town did their part. Even the street tough bikers he had seen earlier, performed a function.  Snake found it amusing to imagine what part they could play in a society like.  Surprisingly enough, Kate was soon to inform him that they were responsible for Sanctuary's vehicle pool.  They often travelled around the area searching for all kind of vehicle, restoring and maintaining it after deciding if it was salvageable or not.  The gangs that had run rampant over the area once, were now appointed street custodians and they constituted the bulk of Sanctuary's armed forces and law enforcers.

Snake enjoyed spending the day with her, even though he wasn't about to admit it, he was also impressed with Sanctuary and what they had managed to built here.  He had seen more experience leaders do worse than this and if anything, Sanctuary ought to put them to shame.  Snake even had to admit, he would have been sorry if this place had fallen to the Englishman and become the nightmare that was currently the Zone.  Something inside of him liked the notion of kids being able to play in the grass - unafraid of anything and having a good time.

The sun had started to set in the horizon as the afternoon progressed and he was surprised how quickly the day had gone.  Kate was good company and he found she wasn't fickle like most women although some traits were just genetic and she like them all, had her moments.  He even started to look less like a circus act to the rest of Sanctuary's residents who no longer gawked or stared as hard as they used to.  Which was a relief. 

He was however, starting to wear down a little however,  the stiffness in his side increasing to genuine discomfort but it wasn't something he couldn't endure for awhile at least.  Either way, his pain didn't escape Kate and being a doctor, she reacted immediately.

"Hell, I'm sorry Snake." Kate replied as she saw him swear slightly under his breath."  Come on, we'll head back to my place. I'll even cook for you."

"I'm sick enough." He looked at her with mischief in his eyes.

"Remarks like that will not get you invited to dinner."  She said good naturedly, slipping an arm under to support.  Snake didn't really need her assistance, but he wasn't about to complain.  He liked how she felt against his and was pleasantly surprised that she didn't mind taking such liberties with him.  Like her, he was aware of something happening between them, something that reeked uncomfortably of permanence and the kind of warmth that Snake Plissken found completely out of his depth.  

"Hello Kate." A man greeted them.  Snake had noticed him earlier, crossing the street towards their direction but loss track when Kate started talking to him. The man was slightly taller than him, with thick blond hair, stocky build, probably once a football player of whatever was the favourite Canadian past time.  Certainly some kind of physical contact sport because his nose looked broken several times at least.  His green eyes focused on Snake even though he was addressing Kate.

This guy was trouble, Snake's instincts told him immediately.

"Hello Jack." She answered and Snake picked up instantly on the tension in her voice. Something was up between these two, he decided.

"Jack, this is Snake Plissken." Kate wasted no time in introducing them. 

"I guessed." Jack replied curtly, not hiding his hostility at all.  When he finally cast his gaze at Snake, it was more of a glare than anything else.

Snake chose only to nod in acknowledgment. Secretly, he shifted into the stance he always took when he met people who could be dangerous.  Good ol' Jack was quickly slipping into that category.  Snake stared back  at the man with icy eyes, poised to react appropriately if it became suddenly necessary.  He noticed also, that Kate's hold around him had changed from mere support to something more intimate.   Her fingers had coiled through his and her body pressed up closer against him.  No genius was required to know that Jack was an unwanted suitor.  Snake found the idea amusing and played her game for awhile.  Besides he could see the mounting anger in Jack's face and he kind of enjoyed it.  As it was, Jack's jealousy was more than obvious without her having to exacerbate the situation any.

"Snake is staying with me until tomorrow." Kate continued speaking. "At least until Erik hooks up power to his place."

Jack nodded slowly, his jaw tightening and his entire body fighting the restraint of his control. "I see," he replied coolly.  "You're quite a celebrity Snake Plissken.  I've been hearing all kinds of stories all day about you.  Are even half of them true?"

Snake looked at him without expression, not needing to acknowledge the half assed attempt at an insult Jack was trying to deliver him.  Why did he need to say anything when Kate's rubbing up against him was more effective than any words he could come up with.  There was no mistaking the intimacy she was trying to portray and this grid iron steroid ape was starting to fall prey to its implications.

"I don't know," Snake answered after awhile. "I haven't heard them."

"Oh come on," Jack snorted, barely able to keep civil, but throwing down an unseen gauntlet. "The hero that rescued the US president from certain death in New York City? Not to mention the war hero of Leningrad, even though all you tough guys couldn't beat the Russians at anything. Still I guess they had to give you a medal for something."

Snake wondered if this goon had any idea of what he was playing with.  In his past, Snake Plissken had killed men for less than this.  The only reason he hadn't yet done it, was because this was Sanctuary and he had no gun.  Besides, this guy was an asshole and he didn't annoy Snake enough to warrant wasting his time on this wannabe. 

"Jack," Kate interrupted quickly, before the big idiot did something he couldn't take back.  As much as she thought about Snake, she was not blind to what he had been and really, still was.  He was a killer and it was only god's sense of twisted irony that Snake had a glimmer of  conscience, which was enough to make his actions heroic at times.  All she knew about Jack was that once, he was a nobody and after a Pulse, being an engineer made him somebody.  But not somebody enough to take on a man like Snake Plissken. 

"Jack," she said again, snapping both men out of their testosterone filled aggressions. "It's nice seeing you, I'll catch up with you later."  With that, she started to pull Snake away.

"If you touch her," Jack managed to say as they were moving away.

Snake glanced over his shoulder and said with a half smile.   "I'll be sure to let you know first."

That did it.

Jack barrelled past Kate as he knocked Snake to the ground.

In his weakened condition, Snake was unable to keep the mountain of a man from slamming him hard against the concrete floor.  In the distance, he heard Kate screaming to stop, but the next thing he felt was a blow connecting to his jaw.  Snake's reaction after this was swift.  He was taken momentarily off guard, for not long enough for Jack to keep his advantage.  Rolling hard, he threw Jack off easily and swung one fist into the man's face, followed by another in a quick succession of reactive punches.  Jack made some half hearted attempt to fight back, but it never quite came.  Snake Plissken was too good to let an amateur take him with one lucky punch.

The only reason Jack walked away with his life was because Snake stopped when he felt Kate's hand on his shoulder, pulling him away.  His feelings about her were still an unknown, but he knew one thing without doubt, she'd never understand if he killed this stupid son of a bitch in front of her.  No matter how much he may have deserved it.  Snake turned and saw the fear in her eyes, mostly borne from the realisation that it was her that they were fighting over.  Yet, that fear was quickly approaching the possibility that Snake Plissken was really some kind of murdering psychopath. 

That wasn't something he was willing to let her believe.

Snake looked down and saw a pathetic nonentity scrambling for some measure of dignity as Snake backed away from him, leaving him with his life and a few reminders never to cross him again.  Whatever posturing the man had displayed previously was gone, it lay with the man whose face was covered in blood, but whose injury was more fatal to his pride.  Inwardly Snake knew he wasn't going to remain beaten for long,  Jack was one of those people who would recover and then want revenge.

Blood was gushing from Jack's shattered nose and a small crowd had gathered around, watching the commotion with a mixture of concern and excitement over the break of every day routine.  Snake was well aware of how this looked, what they would be thinking about him, but right now, he really didn't give a shit.  His ribs throbbed painfully and he wanted to be somewhere secluded where he could nurse his injuries away from prying eyes. 

"Get up Jack," Kate ordered unsympathetically.  She was astonished and disgusted by both of them.  Although she knew Jack was lucky to be alive.  People didn't pick fights with Snake Plissken and live.

Jack seemed dazed for a moment, holding his nose as rivulets of blood ran down his hand as he held his nose.  Snake allowed himself a little smile of satisfaction as he walked away from the scene.  Jack didn't seem eager to speak or down play his defeat in the fight, allowing Kate to take charge of the situation.  Kate however, seemed more embarrassed than any thing else.

"Alice," Kate called out, recognising a familiar face in the crowd.  Alice was an older woman in her forties who had heart trouble and thus travelled around with a car.  "Will you please take Jack to the hospital.  Dr Vinh is on duty, he'll take care of this."

"Sure thing." Alice said amiably, sympathising with her dilemma, casting an unfathomable glance at Snake before turning back to Kate.  For an instant, both women acknowledged each other secretly before Alice turned to the matter at hand.  Snake wondered what that was all about.  He could read people well, but sometimes women could be a complete mystery when they chose to be secretive.

"Come on Jack," Alice helped Jack to his feet, before leading him through the crowd.  "I think you've learnt your less on about catching a tiger by the tail." She gave Snake a smile, which he returned with a slight curl at the corner of his lips, as she moved past with Jack.

The throb in his side had started to fade slightly, even though he believed he had injured himself again.  He could feel a gush of fluid and knew that he was bleeding, he just hope he didn't bust any stitches. He didn't relish going back to the hospital again, especially since he'd just gotten out today.  Perhaps picking a fight hadn't been the wisest thing to do, even if Jack had asked for it.  Still, Snake was a patient man, revenge could have come later. Some of his best moments of vengeance in life, took place after he had time to think about it. 

After Jack had left and Snake had moved away from the crowd, the audience began to dissipate now that the momentary excitement was over.  As Kate and Snake began walking back to her car, the last of the stragglers disappeared into the tapestry of the street once more. 

"Alice has got a car." Kate explained, "he'll be okay. It wasn't anything serious."

Snake saw anger in her eyes but he guessed it was aimed more at herself than at him.  She hadn't expected her little game to go as far as it did, but now that it was all said and done, she couldn't deny it wasn't her fault to begin with.  He responded by taking a moment to light himself another cigarette.  Funny, it always seemed like he never quite had the chance to finish one.  The last lay somewhere on the ground, probably still burning despite Jack  knocking it out of his mouth.

"How can you be so calm?"  She declared, riled by his indifference.

Snake took a breath of his cigarette and then looked at her. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Of course  not!" She declared. "Why on earth would I want to mean to beat themselves silly over me?"

"Cause you wanted to get rid of at least one of them." Snake looked at her innocently.

Kate let out a held breath, unable to refute that.  "Let's have a look at you." She mumbled. They had reached the car and Snake was leaning against it for support.

There was momentary alarm on her face as she saw this, because he rarely used anything for support.  The physician in her surfaced quickly, to take control.  Standing against him, she pulled up his singlet to make a quick examination.  Snake was surprised that he allowed to do so without resistance. But then, hadn't that been the case seen they'd met?   She examined the wound on his side and he closed his eyes, feeling her fingers trace their delicate tips across his chest and then his side.

He tried not to enjoy her fingers against him, her breath across his bare skin as she studied broken flesh.  He wondered if she enjoyed the sensation of his body under her hands as much as he enjoyed her touching him.  He could smell the fragrance of her hair and tried to overcome to need to touch her in a way that would leave no doubt of how he felt.  Sheer willpower enforced by years of mastery and calm, kept him from doing so.  God, he wanted her though.  He wanted to feel her thighs around his, his gingers digging into that cascade of lustrous hair, he wanted to taste her erect nipples in his mouth and hear her scream his name in sheer ecstasy when he started to fuck her.

"You're weeping a little here." She remarked, breaking through his reverie, completely oblivious to the thoughts running through his mind.  "I'll need to change the dressing, but we can do that at my place. I just know how much you love hospitals."

II

"What was that all about?" He inquired hours later, over a bottle of wine and an eaten dinner.  They were in the living room of her place, having finished dinner an hour before and had moved to the lounge room with the bottle of wine.  They had sat around drinking, feeling so casual that it almost seemed like they were old friends reminiscing.  He lay relaxing in an enveloping arm chair, while she rested outstretched on the sofa, one had propping her had as she sipped her wine and looked at him.

It was the closest thing Snake could remember in recent years to sharing an evening with a woman, since before the service.  He lit a smoke,  draped one leg over the thick arm rest and relaxed. He couldn't even remember when he ate Italian last and bemused over her ability to cook it among the other things she was capable of.  Outside, the skies bathed the woods and the river in a blanket of indigo from its bright moon, high in the sky.   The twilight kept them sealed within the confines of the three bedroom Spanish styled home.  The days events seemed so far away as they gazed through the large window and saw the scenery beyond.

"Nothing I had any control over," she said unhappily, knowing instantly he was referring to Jack.  To think she had been the reason for a fist fight was mortifying.  She had not meant any real harm to be the outcome, just the hope that Jack might understand that she had no desire to pursue any kind of relationship with him.  Jack had just proved again, he was not so easily deterred.

"Jack has this idea we have a relationship." She snorted with something akin to disgust. "He was one of the original residents of this city and during the Ebola crisis, we got close. Close in the sense that we worked together in the hospital, share a lot of meal together while doing the same dirty work. Later, I had dinner with him a couple of times.  It was all very innocent and I didn't suspect there was any more to it than that. Out of the blue, he just comes out and proposes! What could I do but say no.  Now I can seem to get rid of him."

"I guessed." Snake remarked.

His calm annoyed her. "Does anything ever get to you?" She asked sarcastically.

"Not yet." 

"You're lucky." She whispered.

"So, Jack thinks you're his squeeze." Snake declared.

"Nicely put." She took another sip of wine, as if she needed it to answer this question.

Between the two of them, they had nearly downed the entire contents of the carafe.  Snake was still rather sober, if not a little more relaxed than he normally was.  Compared to some of the things he'd had to drink in his life time.  This was tame.  However, Kate was not a heavy drinker and her speech started to slur a little and she occasionally lapsed into girlish giggles.  He kept his eyes on her, enjoying the view of her thigh, since her dress was hiked up high enough to afford him an eyeful, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the manner in which her mouth moved sensuously whenever she sipped.

"Actually," she continued. "He was a nice guy when he thought there was something between us, although I must admit, most people think he's a bit of an asshole."

"Wonder why?" He mused sarcastically, finding such a claim an easy thing to believe. Jack seemed like one of those assholes he used to know, all talk and not much else. Jack was definitely all talk.

"People could say the same about you."  Kate pointed out.

"They don't." He said casually. "At least not twice." A cold half smile escaped his lips and he saw her shudder slightly.

"Is that how you handle everything? With violence?" She asked. "Ever think about just working it out?"

"Not what I do, baby." He replied meeting her gaze. "Its a waste of time anyway. Most of them always try to fuck with me."

"I wish I had your outlook." Kate admitted. "I don't think I could just do that to people and move on.  You find it so easy."

It wasn't easy, Snake didn't want to say. He didn't enjoy killing, but things had a way of happening.  Especially to him, which usually required him taking drastic action to free himself.  Snake Plissken wasn't a murderer, most of the time, he killed in self defence, but people only heard the body count, not the circumstances. 

Sure, he had a reputation.

He denied none of it.  In the early days, he killed and he'd done everything possible to thumb his nose at the establishment in vengeance for Leningrad and his parents.  Snake was very aware of the course his life had taken, he had been aware of it from the very first.  He apologised for none of it, nor did he waste time with regrets.  Some times in the dark of his sleep, he thought about the people who had died and left him behind.  Their loss deepened the conviction of his life.

Snake saw her staring at him meaningfully.  His eyes travelled down her face and to her neck, moving delicately against her cleavage. She blushed, he was sure, but did nothing to stop him.  Instead, she moved towards him, slowly and full of hesitation. The moment she was in arms reach, he pulled her close to him, completing the journey.  Her eyes told him everything he needed to know as he pulled her down to him.  Snake wanted to make love to her just once, not only for himself, but because she wanted it just as much.

Suddenly, his mouth was on hers. His hands taking her face and bringing her lips closer to his, if such a thing was possible.  He could feel her hands pressing down against his chest, taking care to avoid his wounds.  A soft grunt escaped her, almost animalistic in her desire, as she relished the feel of taut, firm muscle against her palms.  Snake was almost undone by that sound, pulling her down on his mouth hard, until he could hear her heart pounding in tandem with his.  The sound filled the world.

Her mouth opened under him like some sensuous flower, allowing his tongue to probe past her lips, touching her teeth before dancing around her tongue.  His hands moved to her dress, almost tearing open the buttons that hid her breasts from him.  Her bronzed body before him, bare and ready to the touch almost undid his control.  His hands engulfed both round breasts, his fingers finding her nipples with hard caresses.  He let his mouth slide down her neck, holding her shoulders carefully, as he drew a wet line down her cleavage with his tongue.  His anticipation having risen at the feel of her erect nipples rubbing against his black t-shirt.  Her skin was sweet, much sweeter than he'd imagined it to be   All of her was much better than he imagined.  Her scent, her taste and her touch brought out in him a passion for her he'd never believed existed.

As his mouth took one hard rosebud nipple in his teeth, Snake heard Kate moan slowly. A  sated groan that sneaked past her throat, as she pressed her breast against his. His urgency was starting to rise. God, he wanted to fuck her so much.....

"No!" She moved away from under him.

For a moment, he wasn't sure what happened. She stood upright, staring at him like a frightened teenager, her magnificent breasts glistening from his saliva still wet on her nipples.  She covered herself immediately, an expression of intense shame and confusion written in her face.

"I'm sorry Snake," she whispered. "I want you so much it hurts," she looked at him almost to the point of tears. "But I can't let you make love to me because after that I won't be able to stand you being gone.  I won't be able to let you go."

With that, she turned on her heels and disappeared into a bedroom, slamming the door shut behind.  Snake stared after her, astonished and aching that she was gone. He was almost tempted to go after  her and finish what they had started. He was so hard he could barely think.  She had brought him to such a state of heightened desire that he couldn't even remember when he was aroused as much.

Yet in the silence that followed, as the soreness of pent up sexual tension started throbbing at him, the pain brought some clarity to mind.  Part of him was furious that she walked out of him.  He hadn't felt this ridiculous since   he was a teenager and he was not about to solve is problem the way he did when he was fifteen.  Why did women have to place so much importance on one physical act?

Because, a voice inside him answered it almost immediately; he might not able to let her go either.

CHAPTER NINE

I

He saw very little of Kate after that incident.

Snake felt disappointment every time he thought of it, remembering what she felt like, how she had reacted to him and how she'd made him feel.  The soft cries of pleasure, the fingers that started to claw at his back and the sheer desperation in her need for him.  Yet despite all the emotional churning, Snake was forced to admit she had done the best thing for both of them, even it was painful. Because as much as he liked Sanctuary, he didn't know whether he would stay or not.  His plans didn't involve much beyond finding a place to bunk down for a while, away from bullets flying at him and would be demi-gods trying to use his head as a rally cry for their causes.  He knew what she wanted from him and nothing could shake Snake Plissken's resolve more than that desire.

She wanted him to stay for good.  To give it all up for a woman and an idea.  It had been too long since any of those things held any sway for him.  After Leningrad and what awaited him when he returned home, the person he was once, died when he learned everything he had fought a war for, was gone.  Whomever he had been, that stranger whose parents took pictures of him before the high school prom, who drove him on campus when he went to college, who stood there proudly when they pinned that fucking medal on him, that person was dead. In the ruin of that life, Snake Plissken was born.  Snake Plissken who allowed nothing to touch him.

Until now.

She was touching him.  She had invaded the fortress of his inner self and made him feel things again.  Snake didn't know whether to be happy or to put a bullet through her for doing this to him.  In three days, she had done this and he was bewildered by the power she had over him. When he almost made love to her, it had felt so right.  All his life, he'd scoffed at the notion of there being someone for everyone. Yet every moment he spent with Kate shook the foundations of that belief with subtle tremors.  In defiance, he refused to belief such a thing was possible.

Thus he did what he'd always did when he felt the slightest feelings that might trouble him.  He found a drinking buddy and got completely wasted until he didn't give a fuck about anything any more.  Certainly no damn woman.

Snake didn't stay long after she felt.  He lifted her keys and drove himself to his new home (for awhile at least).  Even if it was pitch dark with no power, Snake had slept in worse and lot less comfortable than this.  Even as he lay in bed, far away from Kate, he spent a better part of the night, trying to forget how she felt against him, how she had writhed at his touch and how close they had come to sharing each other. 

That part was hard to get over. 

Nevertheless, he stayed out of her way after than and it was a mutual course for Kate as well.  Both gave each other a wide berth over the next few weeks.  As she promised, there was power hooked to the house in a matter of hours.  In the meantime, Snake traded the car for another motor cycle, courtesy of the local bikers, who were more than happy to provide Snake with another Chopper, replacing the one he'd lost in the Zone.  After that, Snake had spent most of the time riding around the Sanctuary territories, playing tourist.  There was not much to see beyond the great forests and the spectacular coast line, since the land was mostly undeveloped.  Still, it was the peace and quiet he had sought for so long.

Despite his solitude, Snake often found himself with company, sometimes pleasant, other times not.  Tristan Evans had dropped by on occasion, asking him gingerly for advice about Sanctuary's security concerns.  His view point of security came from his experience as a policeman, but he like most Canadians had little military experience.  The war with Russian had been an American effort and Snake was the only person around with any true combat experience.  Evan's question were often made for supposed hypothetical situations even though Evans was slowly working towards, asking Snake what he wanted directly.  In some ways, he reminded Snake of Bob Hauke, although Evans was not devious about his thoughts and his opinions.  The man had come out and declared he considered Snake a criminal but was forced to admit that for everyone, there had to be a time when bygones had to bygones.  The Pulse had rewritten all their histories, given them a blank page to start a new.  Despite his reservations, even Snake Plissken deserved that chance. 

While Snake didn't think much about being given a new page or a new start, he did respect the man's honesty and with that in mind, forged a fragile understanding of each other's boundaries. 

Most of the time, he hung out with the leader of the biker group, Querto.  Querto, a crazy Mexican who'd been in the war and often sounded like he'd gotten a whiff of too much biologic used by the Soviets, had sort of found himself here after the Pulse.  Querto had a way with mechanical things, automobiles in particular, not to mention that he and his compadres were the kind of men who knew how to handle themselves by living on the edge. Kate had made them an offer of  a place they could call home, because as she put it, Sanctuary would never be entirely safe without its predators to defend it.

"I like her style." Querto declared, just after swallowing a mouthful of the rot gut he made in his own distillery. Snake had learned that almost everyone had an alcohol still of their own somewhere.

Snake said nothing, leaving that particular subject well alone.  He couldn't even remember what time it was, except that it was late and he didn't give a fuck about it anyway.  They were all splayed out in what passed for Querto's office, after a long drinking session which started half and hour after he had come to the lot for some gas and didn't show any signs of ending real soon.  The rest of Querto's men ran the lot for the duration and others like Red and Crow had just joined the party some short hours ago.  Querto kept himself in a constant state of inebriation by brewing his own.  The taste of which was barely a notch above the metho drunk by wino's, had a kick to it, once you got over the taste.

Querto lived in a decent type above ground garage pad, converted from police officer or something.  The Mexican loved the irony of it.  It was the central hub of what used to be Della's City's police impound lot.  Here, Querto and his men got drunk, screwed women in wild orgies and threw up next morning with massive hangovers.  Occasionally however, they would make recovery runs, where they drove through the area, looking for cars that were salvageable after the Pulse was done with them.  These vehicles were usually brought back to the lot, where Querto would make them serviceable for the residents of Sanctuary.  Essentially all terrestrial vehicles, came under Querto's ministrations.

"Not a bad piece of ass either." This came from Querto's number two, Crow, a reedy looking man with dirty long blond hair and was in sore need of a bath, since he always managed to look like shit.  "I'd do it in a minute." He remarked taking a swig from his bottle.

"No way man," declared Red, called so because that's what he like to pop whenever he could get his hands on it.  Unfortunately,  that meant that Red was constantly depressed or suffering from a Red induced hangover. "I'll bet she's a dyke."

"Nah!" Querto replied throwing a day old, half eaten sandwich at the gaunt looking man, with his greying hair and beard.  Red was in his forties, hiding his eyes behind sunglasses all the time, no matter if it was night or day.  Snake was starting to believe that exposing Red to direct sunlight would probably overload his sensory powers and blind him.

"She's no dyke," Querto spoke in defence of the lady's sexuality.  "She's got class man, besides just because she don't give you none after you went up to her and asked for it in the back of a Plymouth with a joint, don't mean she's a dyke.  Hell I don't even let you use my bathroom."

These provoke a series of drunken guffaws from all around the room for a few minutes. Snake even joined in on the laughter.  "She's all woman." He managed to remark, once there was a break in the laughing and the room had quietened down again.

Querto looked a him suspiciously.

"You talking from experience man?"

Snake's split second hesitation in responding was all that Querto needed to jump to conclusions, even though in this instance it was one leap that proved to be correct. Before Snake could sum up and adequate response, Querto was already riding on the high with the knowledge.

"Alright Snake!" He exclaimed and the others looked at him with interest. "Did you fuck her my man?"

Snake winced at the remark, wishing he had shut up.  How was it, he could remain absolutely imperceptible to most people about his inner most thoughts, except her?  Christ, he was getting softer already.  The way he was going, she was going to get him killed.  "No I didn't, " Snake said firmly, wanting no mistake to made about this. Things were bad enough with Kate hearing through the grape vine that she had been the subject of locker room bragging.

"Bullshit." Red retorted. "You got the signs man."

"The signs?"  Snake looked at him dangerously. There were signs now?

"Come on." Querto urged serious in his quest to learn more about this tasty morsel of information.  "There isn't a guy in this room who hasn't thought about doing that babe at one time or another.  You're Snake Plissken man, if anyone can get that woman, its you. So come on Snake, you can trust us, did you do her or what?"

Snake shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing all the attention was focused on him.  He wondered what Kate would think if she knew she was the subject of such speculation.  "We got close." He remarked finally, hoping this was not a mistake.  Besides, he needed these guys to tell him he was crazy, that she was just another chick, good to fuck and not much else.

"Did you see skin?" Crow leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation. "Fuck, I'd give anything to get my hands on that set of titties."

Querto rolled his eyes and took another swig.  "Ol' Jack Travis is gonna be pissed."

"Travis," Snake snorted, "I met him."

"Yeah it was pretty much around town, that you wiped the street clean with him.  You score a lot of points in town by doing that.  That is not a popular guy." Red retorted derisively, "Guy's a serious asshole."

"So what happened?" Querto returned to the subject at hand, much to Snake's rising annoyance.  "You and the lady together now?" He inquired further and Snake was starting to get seriously pissed of with it all. He had wanted to get paralytic with booze that he would not be reminded of her, not so that his sex life would become the topic of a forum.

"No." He retorted, giving Querto a look that said clearly, that he had said all he was going to on that matter and it would be wise to leave it alone.

If only Querto were that intelligent.  Instead the Mexican looked at him and added, "You could do worse you know."

Snake didn't see how.  "It's already worse."

II

The next morning, while he was sitting on the steps of his back porch, nursing the worse hangover he could remember in recent memory, Snake Plissken made a new acquaintance.  The man who walked through is back yard was at least six foot five.  Snake had thought Slag, the manic wrestler he had killed in New York was big.  This guy towered over Slag easily and didn't wear his bulk in flab but taut, strong muscle.  Snake supposed he could have objected to the giant trespassing, but Snake was not in the mood for a fight.  Especially with a walking redwood who was just passing through.

When he was close enough to see the man's face, Snake saw him to be a native American.  The man dressed in jeans and a red lumberjack shirt, his long black hair tied neatly in a thong.  He carried no weapon to speak of, disarming Snake's suspicion  a little, although in Snake's opinion, this man could easily kill with his hands. 

The man regarded him for a moment as he passed  by, then paused a moment.  He looked at Snake a little closely and then started walking towards him.  Snake said and did nothing, merely choosing to hold position to see what this guy wanted.  He wished he had a gun on him, but that's something he hadn't got around to acquiring yet.  Since there was little need of it in Sanctuary's.  Still, Snake Plissken didn't need weapons to kill either.

"You're Snake Plissken." The man remarked, with a deep resonating voice.

"What's it to you?" Snake responded coolly.

"I thought you'd be taller."

"Compared to what?" Snake let his eyes measure man's height close up.

"You're right," he nodded. "They call me the Chief." He extended his hand forward.

Snake paused a moment, regarding the man a little closer himself.  Then he met the Chief outstretched hand.  "Whose they?"

"Everyone."

"Is that your name?"

"My real name is Sprinting Gazelle," he replied reluctantly and Snake decided he wasn't joking.

"I'll call you Chief."

The man threw his head back and laughed shortly, diffusing the tension immediately and Snake decided he could get to like the Chief.  "You live around here?" He asked.

"Yeah," the man nodded. "Two miles that way." The Chief pointed towards the direction of the woods. "With my wife and son.  What about you Snake? Are you living around here too?"

"For a while anyway." Snake answered him honestly.

"Then you won't mind if I take a short cut now and then?" The Chief looked at him.

"No I don't mind." Snake replied. "Just keep the dog off my lawn."

Snake saw a lot of the Chief after that day.  He learned the Chief and his wife grew produce on their land, being a part of Sanctuary's Primary Producers.  Even though he was a full blooded Cherokee Indian, the Chief had lived all his life on Vancouver Island with his family.  Before he Pulse, he had been the local Forest Ranger and not much changed for him with the loss of their technology.  In some ways, the Chief and his family were better equip to deal with he Pulse than anyone else.

Occasionally, Snake would meet Mira, the Chief's wife as she walked by with their son Joey.  She was a stunning woman with long hair that hung at her waist with strong arms holding the supplies she was returning home with.  Once, Snake had woken up to find a pie seated on his back porch with a polite thank you note for allowing them passage.  The gesture was touching.  However, it was mostly the Chief that dropped by with his own jug of home brew to share with Snake. This usually meant a whole day drinking fest where they would be throwing up before too long.  After which the Chief would disappear into the woods again.  Sometimes, they would even go fishing although Snake disliked it no less now than he did when he went with his father  a lifetime ago.  Yet, he accompanied the Chief, enjoying the sun on his face while he breathed in the ocean from a boat, being reminded of simpler times.

Life in Sanctuary was laid back all in all.  To Snake, it was like living in a small country town, hours from the real world.  It seemed so remove from all the anarchy beyond the shores of the continent and even closer in the Zone.  Snake's presence here was becoming commonplace with the locals, who were used to seeing him now.  He'd achieved a kind of celebrity status where people knew well enough not to intrude and speak about his exploits from a far.

He had however, run into Jack a couple of times, but the man was wise enough to leave him unprovoked.  Certainly, Snake had made no mistake in his intentions, should Jack decide to cross swords with him again. Snake Plissken was not above killing him if Jack should ever desire a rematch.

Fortunately, Jack Travis was wise enough to stay well away from Snake, which was just as well. 

As the days moved on, Snake became less of a notoriety among Sanctuary's residents.  People began to become accustomed to his arrival in town and with the exception of a few gang kids who tried their hand at  taking  him on, well Snake Plissken knew how to handle them too.

Occasionally he'd get kids who gawked at him, their heads all filled with stories about that fucking New York escape and the legendary cult status that it had given him.  Snake disliked it intensely, so when the kids came up and asked him about it, his answers were short and evasive.  Most took it as part of his legendary demeanour.  That someone like Plissken was supposed  to act that way.

The truth if they had known it, or if Snake had bothered to tell them, would probably surprise them.  Snake just didn't like to talk about it.

He didn't come into town all that often either way.  Snake had come here to find peace and quiet, not to get sociable.  Besides, other than drinking his brains out with Querto and his bunch and sometimes having dinner with the Chief and his family, that was about as much company as he needed.  Of course the one person he really wanted to see, he was smart enough to leave well alone.

Christ Plissken, you have it bad, Snake thought lying in his bed one night. His nights were filled of her, especially when he needed to feel another body next to him and became disgusted with himself when he wasn't satisfied with anyone else but Kate.  He'd actually succumbed to the offers made by Sherrie, a waitress at the Slice.  On occasion, Snake had gone there for a meal when he was in town getting gas or something.  Sherrie was a shapely

young woman with fiery red hair and deep green eyes. He'd been with enough women to know when one wanted him. Sherrie was no exception and Snake had accepted her flirtations.

He slept with her, enjoyed their love making for what it was; a one night  stand and when he left the next morning, they both knew it was for the last  time.  Sherrie merely nodded as Snake said he'd call her, even though both  of them knew he wouldn't.  She had been interesting, but even at the height of the night's passion, it paled in comparison to those few minutes with  Kate.

There was no way he could explain his crazy, mixed up feelings for her. No way he could understand why he cared so much about a woman he barely saw any more except in passing.

There was a word for what he was feeling.

However Snake Plissken hadn't travelled far enough to be able to acknowledge what that was yet. 

  *************

Else where Jack Travis was seething.

Every time he saw Snake Plissken riding down the road in that souped up bike of his, it was all the man could do from getting a gun and killing the bastard. Big bad Snake Plissken, who had captured Sanctuary's attention by condescending to grace them with his presence.  Why was Jack the only one who could see the danger?

Didn't they remember anything?  This guy was a criminal, a no good, low life thug who had been a rampaging psychopath who went on a murdering spree whenever he was let loose upon an unsuspecting public.  Sure he rescued the president years ago, but only because they were going to throw in New York's Penitentiary as well.  His only motivation had been for himself, no one else.  Yet no one in town seemed to remember that.

All week Jack heard little else.

He heard the guys at work, at the oil refinery, talking about Plissken and what'd he done during the war.  Not giving a damn when Jack walked into the room, his face all taped up from where that one eyed bastard had hit him. At the refinery, Jack and his team were responsible for the replenishment of Sanctuary's gasoline supply.  That was an achievement worth talking  about.  It was no easy thing to create a working system where plastics could be reconverted into a crude gasoline.  People should be calling him a hero, not Snake fucking Plissken. 

He heard similar talk in the stores. Women gossiping about what a striking man Snake Plissken was, while teenage girls tittered in their little groups.  He saw teenagers trading Snake Plissken stories they'd heard from their parents while children were role playing the son of a bitch. Everywhere Jack Travis turned, it seemed like someone else was saying what a great guy Snake Plissken was...

After awhile, he heard them stop talking in front of him at work, and the subject of Snake Plissken was not to be mentioned in front of Jack Travis.  Yet, Jack was certain of the sniggers and derisive jibes behind his back. He knew what they were saying even if he never actually heard it.

Jack's pissed, cause Snake Plissken stole his woman.

Jack had seen Kate tonight. He'd walked past the Slice on his way to Ray's Bar on the other side of town.  She was sitting there in the Slice with the rest of the Circle, making their great plans, ruling them like the queen of the roost.  As beautiful and perfect as ever, with not a thought in her head to the pain she had caused him. As he stared at her through the glass, he just got angrier and decided to keep walking.

By midnight, most of Ray's crowds, working stiffs like himself had started  heading home.  Jack knew he was suitably drunk and didn't look forward to walking home, which was on the other side of town.  He stared into his glass of cold beer, watching the sediments rise and float amongst the white foam,  (Ray's brewing process had yet to be refined) getting madder at both Kate and that son of a bitch, Plissken.

God he wanted to kill that bastard.  Then he realised, he wanted to kill Kate even more.

Why shouldn't he?  He thought drinking down the glasses contents in one gulp.

"Gimme another one, Ray." He said loudly at Ray over the counter.  Ray looked up at him wearily, pausing for a moment from the glass he was polishing to put away.  Around them, people were starting to stagger out the door in  greater numbers. A  waitress was sweeping up the cigarette butts and food from the floor, while another was wiping down the Formica tables and chairs.

"Its getting late Jack." Ray, a short, fat man who'd made this bar his retirement after a lifetime in the service as a cook.

"One more!" Jack growled dangerously.

Ray shook his head and turned away to fill the order. Let the bastard drink himself to death, Ray thought, then I can throw his ass out.

Jack glared at Ray as the man turned towards the beer taps.  Just someone else whose taking their piece out of Jack Travis.  Just like that bitch.  He was good enough for her before wasn't he?  Good enough to take her to dinner, give her some manly support when she was tired of being the queen.  He had liked being there for her. People looked up to him, knowing he was her man.  Christ knows, it was hard enough trying to get her return the favour. 

Good enough to be a friend, but not enough to be a lover, he snorted. That's what she thought of him. When he thought about the times he'd tried to get her in the sack and how firmly she crossed her legs, the frigid cunt, Jack worked himself into a murderous rage.  He'd even asked her to marry him and what had she said?

"I'm flattered," she began thinking that it would make him feel any better when she turned him down. " But I just don't feel that way about you."

Did she feel that way about Plissken?  Jack saw how she looked at Plissken,  more importantly, saw how she was dressed for the bastard. Oh, she wanted Snake Plissken to fuck her alright. Jack Travis wasn't blind, he could see what she wanted from the great war hero.  He'd even fought for Plissken for her and lost. Did that even matter to her?  No, she got that bitch Alice to take him to the hospital to get fixed up, while she went off with Plissken. Probably couldn't wait to get her mouth around his cock.

He downed his last beer when he made a decision.

She'll get her own. I'll take her somewhere and show her what its like to have a real man and if Plissken gets in the way?

Well, Jack Travis smiled to himself, I'll take care of him too.

CONTINUED...