They burst through the exit and into the parking lot, not far from where they’d left the Zhiguli. In their wake spilled a mob fleeing the next wave of flying bullets. After running past a few rows of cars, Lorinda and Stimpy stopped and huddled behind a tall van. “Good shooting,” Stimpy said.
“You liked that?”
“I did. Very quick thinking. You didn’t lose your cool. And minimal peripheral damage. I wouldn’t have thought of it!”
“Oh.” She felt pleased. “Thanks —"
“You got us out of there fast. Now put the safety back on.”
“Right,” Lorinda said, flipping the safety on. “My adrenaline….” She patted her heart.
“Now we need to find a green Xiaomi Lumberjax crew-cab,” Stimpy said. “Should be right around here somewhere.”
“Is that it?” Lorinda indicated a shiny, new-looking, sickly chartreuse pickup several slots over from where they stood.
Stimpy pushed a button on the fob Sluggo had given him. The truck’s lights flashed and the first five notes of the Xiaomi jingle blasted from all eight of its loudspeakers. “Afraid so,” Stimpy said.
The first of the fleeing Psychedelia customers were already speeding away, honking their horns, far more likely to be injured in a parking-lot crash than by a stray bullet. Lorinda and Stimpy looked around. There were plenty of people who might see them.
“Fuck it,” Stimpy said. “No one’s looking.”
Abandoning their old-person shuffle, they sprinted to their garish new ride, set their big automatics on the back-seat floor, and took their places in front, with Stimpy at the helm. He stopped the truck just behind the Zhiguli, and popped the trunk lid with its remote. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said as he jumped out.
“What are you doing?”
“Our guns.”
After scooping up the remaining weapons from the Zhiguli’s trunk and placing them carefully next to their machine guns, he closed up the Zhiguli, placed the key fob on top of the car’s left rear tire, got back behind the wheel of the truck, and drove warily toward the exit.
“So much shooting everywhere we go,” Lorinda finally said. It had been a good half-hour since either of them had said a word. “I don’t think my heart rate will ever get back to normal.”
“I guess you don’t see much shooting in the bubble of Perfecton.”
“Not too much.”
“It’s different out here in the real CCSA,” Stimpy said. “Good thing Sluggo and Nancy were standing near the emergency exit.” He smiled. “Well, not really standing. Dancing. Well, if you call that dancing —"
“That was deliberate? Being near the door?”
“Oh, yeah. We always meet near an exit door if we can. You never know when you’ll have to make a run for it.”
“Who exactly is we? I mean, who’s behind we?”
Silence from Stimpy.
“All right,” said Lorinda, “let me ask it this way. Who pays for all this? All these cars, this fancy truck —”
“Most of the cars are shit,” Stimpy interrupted.
“Still! The hotel … the pizza … that gas station … your fancy communication system. All of it. It’s kind of a big deal. Who pays?”
Stimpy nodded. “Okay, it’s a fair question. But I can’t answer it until you’re out of this country. And then I won’t be able to answer it because …”
“You’ll still be here,” she said softly.
He nodded, his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel.
“But why? So secret!”
He sighed. “Think about it. If we don’t make it … if I don’t get you out of the CCSA, you’ll end up in custody. That woman —”
“Janelle Stark.”
“Right. And others just like her.” He paused dramatically. “And you’ll talk.”
She waved a hand and scoffed. “No I won’t. I won’t tell them anything.”
“You won’t want to. But they don’t ask politely. You get the picture?”
The image of that monstrous, sadistic thug Skippy flitted across her consciousness. Lorinda looked away and gnawed her lip as she considered this for about two seconds. “Fuck,” she said. “You’re right. I should have figured that out. Sorry for asking.”
“No, no! Ask anything! Just don’t always expect an answer.”
She smiled and curled up in her seat. “It’s funny. That’s what my father always said. ‘Ask me anything.’ And I did. And he always had an answer. Turns out most of them were bullshit.” She flipped down her sun visor to see if it was one of the fancy ones with a mirror. It wasn’t. She flipped it back up. “Okay, one more question. What’s your real name?”
Stimpy laughed.
The sun was starting to set behind them when they came upon the first golf billboard. It was electronic and animated, and showed nothing but a giant Donald Trump as a slim, muscular superhero repeatedly, and with perfect form, swinging an oversized driver and sending a glowing white ball soaring off into the distance. A startling voice boomed inside the truck: “Congratulations! You’re on the road to the President Donald J. Trump Memorial Christian Golf Course and Beautiful Residences!”
“That’s where we’re going?”
“I told you,” Stimpy said. “Golf.”
“What the fuck —”
He held up a silencing hand. “You’ll see.”
Lorinda thought for a moment. “Speaking of Trump,” she said, “When you made that comment about Donald Trump Junior? How the Nazis thought he’d be their messiah?”
“And I said that didn’t turn out so well. Let me guess. You don’t know how it turned out.”
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NEXT: Chapter Thirty-Seven. In which our heroine hears a ghastly story on the way to the enclave of golf.
PREVIOUSLY in THE SPLIT!
Chapter One. In which we meet our heroine and her dainty little gun.
Chapter Two. In which Lorinda demonstrates her bartending virtuosity.
Chapter Three. In which our heroine receives a promotion and prepares to celebrate.
Chapter Four. In which our heroine proves herself an immoral citizen of the CCSA.
Chapter Five. In which our heroine goes to church.
Chapter Six. In which Lorinda contemplates her future, ignores Pastor Doug, and gets something unexpected from Emmie.
Chapter Seven. In which Lorinda learns something that threatens her big dream.
Chapter Eight. In which our heroine freaks out.
Chapter Nine. In which our heroine says the forbidden word as an unwelcome visitor arrives.
Chapter Ten. In which two unpleasant men perturb our heroine.
Chapter Eleven. In which our heroine seems to have found a solution to her problem.
Chapter Twelve. In which that black truck follows our heroine all the way to Austin.
Chapter Thirteen. In which Lorinda lashes out.
Chapter Fourteen. In which our heroine gets a taste of life in the big city.
Chapter Fifteen. In which our heroine meets a fellow bartender and has a drink.
Chapter Sixteen. In which Lorinda once again takes a swing with her little pink gun.
Chapter Seventeen. In which our heroine prepares to escape.
Chapter Eighteen. In which our heroine gets in a truck with a couple of slightly scary strangers.
Chapter Nineteen. In which our heroine learns that she’s got a long way to go.
Chapter Twenty. In which our heroine spends a night in a gas station.
Chapter Twenty-One. In which our heroine learns about the enclaves of the CCSA.
Chapter Twenty-Two. In which our heroine learns way too much about the enclaves of the CCSA.
Chapter Twenty-Three. In which our heroine experiences liberty run amok.
Chapter Twenty-Four. In which our heroine’s escape is disastrously derailed.
Chapter Twenty-Five. In which our heroine finds herself back at the gas station.
Chapter Twenty-Six. In which Stimpy, on the road to Revelation, reveals Ren’s real name.
Chapter Twenty-Seven. In which our heroine manages not to crash the car as she learns more about CCSA enclaves.
Chapter Twenty-Eight. In which Lorinda and Stimpy enter Revelation.
Chapter Twenty-Nine. In which our heroine has pizza for the first time and readies herself to be an old fogie.
Chapter Thirty. In which our heroine finally gets to experience the Rapture Ride.
Chapter Thirty-One. In which our heroine’s long-awaited Rapture Ride experience is interrupted by some unwelcome visitors.
Chapter Thirty-Two. In which our heroine triggers the Rapture…or something.
Chapter Thirty-Three. In which Lorinda and Stimpy slip out of Revelation under cover of pandemonium.
Chapter Thirty-Four. In which our heroine trades arms for freedom.
Chapter Thirty-Five. In which our heroine does a bit of tactical shooting.
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