The Only Hope for Me Is You

“I’m sorry, I-I just...I felt faint!” yelled Cyanide Suicide. I nodded.

“You okay now?” She nodded back a slight look of concern on her face, I could see she was looking for the Dracs, as was I.

“Stay here” I continued, “keep hidden, I’ll be back in a minute." We both had noticed that the guns had stopped, there was nothing but the acid winds that blew painfully across our faces. I stepped out into the blistering light, using my one free hand to cover my face since my aviators were failing again and using my other which contained my gun, to pull down my bandana and lay my mask to rest on the top of my head. There was nothing, not even tumbleweed. Why would they just give up like that? Dracs never gave up. Or maybe…they didn’t-

Before I could continue my train of thought I was on the floor, sand pouring into my mouth and down the back my throat but there was something else, a sharp pain stinging across the back of my head, everything went black, and then a small glimpse of light. Oh no not again, I had been having these flashbacks frequently and have been getting more and more frequent, we could swear they’ve started drugging the air we breath. What has this world come to? And then I remember, how it all began…

I’m not from California, I was born in England, a British Killjoy is a rare occurrence in somewhere like California, but I had no choice to move when it happened. My parents were killed by a SCARECROW. We used to hide Killjoys in our basement, I came home one day to find everyone dead. Imagine, walking into your house and finding your parents dead, all the Killjoys you had befriended, dead. So I ran, I had no idea what else to do, I took all the money I could gather, and I ran. It took me 10 days of walking and 6 taxis to get to California, not to mention having to be a stowaway on a BL/IND shipment ferry, but I had someone expecting me when I arrived in the States.

I clambered out of the stale taxi, my joints aching, I let out a small moan as I got out because of the pain, I chucked some credits at the driver and thanked him.

“Fucking finally” I sighed, I stepped forward from the car as it pulled away, choking me in sand, I coughed and sighed under my breath

“Oh yeah, real nice…prick.” Now where was I? I know I’m in California but where? I knew nothing about my surroundings; I grew up in England, how am I supposed to survive out here? I turned, looking for any signs of life, to be honest it looks like England, just with more sun and less people.

“Jesus…” Before I could rant more I spot a diner in the distance which produces an instant smile on my face.

“Hell yes!” I say, a little too loudly, but I didn't care; I was starving. I ran for the diner faster than I thought I could. I practically threw myself into the diner, disrupting everyone in there, although there are only two people.

“Sorry…” I say, stopping myself before I fall over. I shuffle awkwardly to the counter and focus my eyes on the menu, everything was out of stock apart from coffee.

“Um…ahem.” I say to get the waitress’s attention, she was washing up crusty plates, not making any difference, about to ask her the point of doing that, she turns and smiles and toothless smile.

“Can I help you, love?” She says, she’s small and chubby, not a typical American like I pictured, all tanned with blinding white teeth and over use of perfume. She was the complete opposite.

“Um, yes. C-could I have, please, um, a coffee…and uh, do you have any food?” I ask. She reaches under the table and brings her hand up to produce a tin. I bend over slightly to read it, it has a BL/ind logo on, that automatically puts me off; so they had reached California too.. great. But I’m so darn hungry I grab the tin.

“Thank you.” I say, and reach into my pocket to produce some credits. She puts her hand out.

“No love, you look like you need it.” I reluctantly put the credits back, smile at her, thank her and make my way to the nearest seat. I then realise I have nothing to open the tin with, then I remember I have a small pen knife. I unzip my tattered jacket, and just touching it released a stampede of dust and sand. I look around the diner to check that no one’s watching; the waitress has gone back to her pointless washing up and everyone else’s eyes are completely vacant.

“The pill…” I think to myself, then continue retrieving the knife, I pull it out and open it up, jabbing at the tin under the table for dear life, quite literally, I finally get it open. I give a small victory cheer under my breath and claw at it, not bothering to use a fork or even my taste buds, just stuffing in as much as I can.

“Have a better day!” say the subtitles on an old television on the counter, but all I can hear is some sort of foreign language. Japanese maybe? The waitress jabs at the buttons, the white noise comes back for a second and then my eyes are greeted by a man in a suit, with his hair in a weird comb over, a news report, I haven’t seen one of those in years.

“We interrupt this program to bring you a new report,” he began. I looked around; why was I the only one watching? I shake the thought and continue to listen.

“As many of you will know, the SCARECROW unit has been on the look out for a girl who rebelled against Better Living Industries at her home in Britain. Here is the most recent photo of this suspect.” I stop breathing, eyes widening. It’s me, the girl on the photo, me. It’s a photo of me with my parents with a huge smile; we were in a park having a picnic, the day before the fires. I can’t seem to find my breath. Ever since I ran away, I’ve been one of the most wanted people by BL/IND.

“Just in, the girl has supposedly been sighted in a diner near Zone four in California.” The man continues. Hang on a sec, a diner, I’m in a diner. I glance outside the window and see a sign that states ‘Zone 4’. I glance back over to the television and notice that the waitress has just finished a phone conversation which ended with the words, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave”. She reported me. What do I do? The only thing I can think of in a situation such as this, something I’ve been doing for a while now. Run. And keep running as long as I possibly can.

I take out my pen knife again, and slowly stand up. “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell them., I swear.” She edges closer towards me.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, love.” I glance around the room, looking for an escape route; there’s no other door than the one her big body is blocking and then my eyes catch a small hatch near the counter, a dumb waiter. That must lead down to the basement.

“Alright.” I say, “you can have me,” I slowly put the pen knife on the floor and kick it over to her, as soon as she bends down to retrieve it, I put my escape plan into action. I jump over the table and slide straight into the door of the dumb waiter, with a lot more style than I had expected. I press a button as I hear a loud “OI!” chasing after me, the door shuts just in time and I let out a long needed breath.

I think through what I can do and the only thing I can think of is to run away from here, as fast as I can. Suddenly the dumb waiter comes to a halt which startles me. I open the door and dust rushes into the small space, I cough and flap around my arms to rid of it. I spot an open window and head straight for it, clambering out I’m practically blinded by the sun. As I slowly get back my vision, I realise I’m in the shit. Two white cars with the BL/ind logo have stopped in front of me, out of them came six tall men dressed completely in white, with black boots and Draculoid masks covering their faces. Before they can shoot I run, I hear them shouting and doors slamming and I know they’ve gotten back into their cars, I hear the screech of tires and the sounds of heavy footsteps closing in on me.

“I’m going to die, this is it...” I think to myself, I run but am tiring, I can feel my legs wobbling beneath me, I’ll fall and they’ll get me.

“Shit!” I scream as I feel a tug on my leg which sends me tumbling down a hole behind a bush, I feel something crack as I try to let out a scream but get a mouthful of leather instead, a strong hand is gripping my waist and I think I’m going to die. I remain like this until the Dracs run past, I hear mumbled words like “Where did she go!” and “Oh fuck, he’s gonna kill us”. I breath heavily through my nose which is riddled with sand and I try to work out who has captured me.

“You okay?” I jump a little as I hear a high voice ask me a question. I’m not at all ‘okay’ but I nod nether the less. I struggle from his grip and turn to face my captor. It’s him, I’ve seen his face before but I can’t make out the name. That dark curly hair, the black jacket with the flag on the back stamped with a giant spider and various decorative patches of colour, that one eye patch and huge combat boots.

“…Jet Star…” I say without realising. He gives me a gruff smile and climbs out of the hole. I sit there, staring in a amazement, gaping at him. He stands up, brushing his jacket of dust and sand.

“Well, you can’t exactly stay in there all day...” He offers me his hand, I close my gaping jaw and take it as he tugs me out of the hole. He stands me up, analyzing me for injuries, and then I realise the pain in my ankle and loose my footing, luckily Jet Star catches me.

“Woah!” He says as he steadies me. “Come here,” he puts his arm around my waist to support me, “let’s get you sorted out..."

I hop over the bush and we come to a clearing, I see an old vintage car.

“Is that yours?” I ask,

“Well, I share it.” He helps me over and opens the door for me as I clamber in, wincing from the pain in my ankle, he gets in beside me.

“Thank you, by the way,” he glances over at me, “you know, for saving my life and all.” He chuckles.

“S’okay. Oh and uh, sorry about your ankle,” I look at him and then down at my foot.

“Nah, it’s fine” I say as I wince again.

“Yeah, looks it,” he starts the car and drives off.

We arrive at a sort of shack, he gets out and wanders to my door, opens it and then lifts me out, supporting me again.

“You live here?” I ask, looking around, there’s nothing there but desert and a shack plunked right in the middle of it.

“For the time being.” He answers. Before I have time to think it over I hear shouting coming from the shack and a figure runs out.

“Jet Star!” It says as it stops in front of us. It’s a man, tall, blonde and skinny with a red jacket stamped with a Kobra on the chest, he wears a yellow shirt with black stripes and brown fingerless gloves, just like Jet Star's. This was the one they called Kobra Kid.

“Who’s this?” He asks, taking his hands out of his pockets and running to the other side of me to help.

“I don’t know, she was being chased by Dracs, so I helped her.”

“My name’s Electronic Joker” I say, because I know using real names isn’t aloud with Killjoys in the Zones.

“Oh right, uh that’s who she is. I’m Jet Star and that’s Kobra Kid,” he says, pointing to himself with his free hand and then to the other helping me too.

“I know” I say, chuckling. “You guys are like the most wanted Killjoys ever...”

“Why thank you!” said Kobra Kid, chuckling to himself.

Jet Star boots open the door with his foot and places me on the nearest sofa. I look around, taking in my surroundings and then I realize where we are.

“Wait…” the two look at me and then to each other. “This is Dr. D’s shack, isn’t it?” I say with a huge grin on my face.

“Yep, sure is,” says Jet Star as he lifts up my leg to rest on his thigh, he takes off my shoe and sock and wraps a bandage across it, then places back the shoe and sock.

“Thank you,” I say and he pats my leg and puts it to rest on a cushion.

“We’ll have to get you kitted up,” he says as he rifles through a chest of clothes and lays out some red skinnies, black combat boots, a black and white checked shirt, a multi-coloured racer jacket and a purple bandana.

“And how’s this for a mask and a gun?” he says as he hands me a purple masquerade mask with silver glitter circles and a purple and white gun with zig zag patterns along the handle.

“Awesome!” I say.

“Made by my friend, who I’m sure you’ll meet soon..."

”Hey guys,” my thinking is interrupted by voice, a small man and a man with bright red hair enters the shack. Fun Ghoul and Party Poison. Jet Star walks over to Party Poison and knuckle touches him,

“Who’s this?” Party Poison asks him.

“I rescued her from some Dracs, her name’s Electronic Joker.”

“Nice” he says and shakes my hand, “Party Po-“

“She knows” says Jet Star, nodding at me.

“Ah, right. Well, it’s Gerard actually.” He smiles at me and sits next to me.

“Mikey,” says Kobra Kid, who’s playing around with an old record player.

“Frank,” says Fun Ghoul who sits next to Gerard, and salutes me.

“Ray,” says Jet Star, as he hands me a bottle of water. I took it gladly, and sat there, looking at the four most notorious Killjoys in the world, recovering from my injuries as they talked about what they were about to do next.

"We just sent Cyanide out to patrol not too long ago.." Gerard said, cracking his neck. "Once Joker's healed up, she can join her. I wondered who this "Cyanide" person was...I had never heard of a killjoy by that name, but I was always open to meeting one of our own.

After what seemed like hours of getting to know the Killjoys, hearing their unbelievable stories of how they keep annihilating BL/IND, someone came back through the shack door, and everyone looked over, including me. She was about Frank's height, with red skinnies, a yellow and white striped tank, with a green vest and bandana, and a red masquerade mask, similar to Gerard's. She was wearing black combat boots, and holding an orange gun, with black and yellow stripes and the Japanese sun on the body of it. She coughed, took her bandana off, and holstered her gun, and put her hands on her hips.

"Hey guys," she said, smiling. Gerard got up and walked over to her.

"Hey, Cyanide," he said, winking. "You're just in time...we got another one." He pointed at me, and Cyanide looked over at me.

"Hey," she said.

"Hello," I replied. "I'm Electronic Joker."

"Cyanide Suicide." Fun Ghoul stood up.

"Well, now that you've officially met...it's time for you two to go out on patrol again.

"BUT I JUST GOT BACK, FRANK!" Cyanide complained, throwing her arms in the air. "Seriously?" Frank laughed.

"The more we are safe, the better..." is all he said, and Cyanide nodded, frowning. Ray looked over at me.

"How's your ankle?" he asked. I moved it around, wincing slightly, but it was nothing too painful.

"I think it's all right..." I said, trying to stand up, and stumbled slightly. I saw everyone wince, but I straightened myself up, and gave them all a thumbs-up.

"We're good!" I said.

"Alrighty!" Gerard exclaimed. "Now off you two go..." I walked over to Cyanide, and she smiled at me. We waved at the others, and they waved back.

"See you soon, you two..." Gerard said. "Keep Running." We nodded, and turned to walked out the door.

"Hey." Cyanide said.

"Hi." I replied, and we walked out the door into the vast desert which was California.

"Where are you from?" Cyanide asked as we walked down the deserted highway. "I'm a local motorbaby..." I smiled.

"I'm not..." I trailed off, and Cyanide looked at me funny. I continued. "I'm from overseas...Britain, in fact."

"No shit!" Cyanide exclaimed in wonder. "That's a hell of a trip!" We walked further down the highway, reaching an intersection.

"You have no idea..." I said quietly, remembering all I had just been through. Suddenly, I saw something move in the bushes.

"Don't move...they're here..." I said, grabbing my gun. Cyanide did the same. We both put our bandanas up and masks on, preparing for the ambush we were about to face.

And now we are at present day.