Anhur

by Wayne Marinovich

  Roger pointed to a truck that stood outside the main entrance. ‘It’s in a reasonable condition, and it is filled to the brim with weapons and ammunition. It costs more than the last order though.’

  ‘What do you mean it costs more?’

  ‘The price was forty per cent more than last month.’

  ‘What? I employ you to get me the best deals on the black market,’ Rebus said, tightening the grip of the gun. He raised it slowly.

  Roger looked at the gun and took a small step back, his hands raised to waist level. ‘You killed my last NAG captain. The new one I’m working on will take a while to cultivate, and it’ll take even longer to get him down to the previous prices. That is black market commerce for you.’

  Rebus screamed and spun away. He walked towards Enyo and Skink. ‘Roger, get these fucking prisoners away from me before I kill the lot of you.’

  The people in front of him needed no further encouragement. They scurried out of the huge factory doors and disappeared.

  ‘Skink. You have your filthy ear to the ground. Is Roger telling the truth?’

  The man fidgeted, his eyes flashing from Rebus to Enyo. ‘Yes, he is. It seems the new captain is also trading with a new northern gang that has moved in on the edge of Bisons territory, called the Patriots or something.’

  ‘When? I thought the Bisons were in control of all their territories?’

  ‘Seems they are being stretched thin like us,’ Skink said. ‘I hear one of the Bison generals defected and set up his own crew.’

  ‘Is your source trustworthy?’

  Skink looked at Enyo again.

  ‘I’ve heard the same thing, lover,’ Enyo said.

  ‘Fuck. This is not good news.’

  ‘Why, boss?’ Skink said.

  ‘It means that we have to start looking to other captains or gangs to trade with. That takes time and investment.’

  ‘I don’t think now is the time to start looking at other supply lines. There isn’t enough time to cultivate the trust or instil fear up and down the chain,’ Enyo said.

  ‘I know that, but we cannot afford to suddenly start paying forty per cent more simply to appease a greedy middleman. We don’t have enough cash or vouchers for that.’

  ‘We cannot let them know that we can’t afford the merchandise,’ Enyo said.

  Rebus clenched his teeth and slapped Enyo with a left backhand, her face jerking to the right. ‘Don’t tell me things that I already know.’

  ‘You could look into the bounty being offered for the Hooded Man?’ she said as she rubbed her cheek.

  Rebus turned to face her. ‘I want to slit that fucker’s throat in front of all those who glorify him. Why would I do a deal for the man who killed our Luka?’

  ‘We need a lot of money very quickly, and this might be a way,’ Skink said, looking at Enyo, who raised her eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

  Chapter 23

  Greenback, Tennessee, USA – 2043

  ‘Looks deserted, boss,’ Smithy said, lowering the binoculars. He kept looking at the town that was several kilometres away, a shimmering silver and blue haze in the distance. ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  Gibbs grunted his agreement as he stood behind the green spotting scope. Placed on a tripod, it was more powerful than any of the binoculars they had in the truck but took longer to set up. The rocky outcrop on the small hill they’d climbed, served as good cover for the two men.

  ‘No dust plumes about so they’ve either hidden away or have moved on,’ Gibbs said, standing back from the scope.

  ‘Do you think they’ll continue southwest for much longer? We’re a long way from the NAG forces. I thought they may have circled back by now.’

  ‘There are a ton of vehicle tracks that we’ve crossed, and even more down there near the town. Rebus might have turned back, and we just missed it.’

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ Smithy said, picking up a small bag to pack the scope into.

  ‘Aye. Let’s get cracking so we can hit the town at the heat of the day,’ Gibbs said, turning to walk back down an old dusty path.

  Smithy followed Gibbs down towards the waiting truck and van. The path was cluttered with faded litter that had lain undisturbed for decades. The occasional cigarette box lid flapped in the wind as they stepped carefully over the fallen rocks that had rolled down the side of the hill.

  ‘Smithy, I want you to ride with Fingers and Blondie,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘What? No way.’

  ‘Suck it up. It’s your turn.’

  ‘Ah, thanks. Leave me with the frikkin farmers.’

  ‘I’m staying with the truck, so I need you to use your wonderful way with people to start gauging what sort of blokes they are. Can they handle themselves? Can they be trusted? You know the drill.’

  ‘Okay, but the next group of strangers are yours to babysit. Unless they’re hot women.’

  ‘Sure thing, you perv.’

  ‘A man has needs, and you and I are both in need of female company.’

  ‘Plenty of time for that once the 38s are destroyed,’ Gibbs said as they reached the bottom of the path and walked through the scrub and sand to the waiting vehicles.

  Smithy glanced upwards, and Warren gave them a thumbs up before disappearing down through the roof turret. Stuart stepped from the truck side door. ‘Is it safe to go in? Is Rebus still there?’

  ‘Hard to say for sure. There was no movement about. Jump back inside, and let’s get prepared,’ Smithy said.

  Gibbs stopped next to Stuart. ‘I want you covering the right-hand side of the truck as we approach.’

  A smile broke out on the boy’s face. Smithy forgot how much he resembled Christina. It must still be so painful for Gibbs every time he looked at his son, the constant reminder. Smithy had fond memories of the strong young woman who’d fought alongside him. A smell started to fill Smithy’s nose, and he blinked. Fingers was nearby.

  ‘Mate, we have to get you to a bath. You bloody stink.’

  Fingers laughed. ‘We were a little busy back in the enclave in case you’d forgotten.’

  ‘No one could forget that smell. It’s a lethal weapon,’ Smithy said, turning back to Gibbs. ‘Boss, we could send Fingers in alone. He’ll flush out any self-respecting gang lord.’

  ‘You can discuss that plan as you sit in the van with them,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Some say you’re a tyrant,’ Smithy said. ’I’ll stick with bastard.’

  ‘I know. Head around to the west side of the town and approach the middle plaza from there. We’ll take the east and work our way to you. Be careful and don’t get distracted. Show these boys how to check for boobytraps. It’s not just the 38s that lay them. If Floodlanders have been in that town, they could’ve left the gang lords a few nasty surprises.’

  • • •

  The stench of rotting corpses overpowered even Fingers’ body odour. A gang dumping site was probably nearby. They liked to pile up bodies in the places they’d camped. Smithy sat with his scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth. The open window helped, but that allowed the dust and heat inside. Dark clouds were building on the horizon as they drove on a small tarred road that wound its way to the town of Greenback in old Tennessee. Smithy hoped it would rain, but these clouds were like the women of his dreams. There for but a brief instant, then gone before he could buy them a drink.

  ‘Pull up here, Blondie,’ Smithy said. The van slowed as they pulled up to a four-way intersection.

  ‘Looks deserted,’ Fingers said.

  Smithy looked at a small wooden house that was set back from the road. A burnt-out pickup was parked outside. The clanging sound that came in through the open window was from a rusty 95 North road sign.

  ‘Keep your eyes peeled for any movement. Fingers, scope out the row of shops to the left of the house. Blondie, look for movement at that old bank building. People were here not too long ago.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘That Ford pickup is s
till smouldering. Burnt itself out in the last twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Bloody heck, I wouldn’t even have seen that.’

  ‘Keep the van running and let’s just sit here for a while,’ Smithy said, pulling the scarf back over his mouth. He looked out at the small house and then back to the town sign where seven people had been crucified on the eight-foot wooden fence that ran along the main road. It looked like a whole family. Hessian twine had been used to tie arms and the upper bodies to the fence, their feet bent and folded under them. The adult male’s pants had been pulled down, and he had been castrated, as was the younger male. Three females were naked and covered in blood, ravens sat on their heads, picking at their eye sockets. The smallest child was strung up, and nails had been used in her wrists and elbows. She had her head smashed in from the right side, her jaw hanging broken to the left. Smithy swallowed hard and looked back down the main road. These gangs had to pay.

  ‘That doesn’t make for pleasant viewing,’ Fingers said.

  ‘You think? Just watch the shops. Any movement?’

  ‘Not a sign of anything.’

  ‘Grab your weapons. And let’s go over to that old bank first.’

  ‘Why?’ Blondie said, chambering a round in an old Beretta.

  ‘It’s the one place I would have chosen. Set back from the road so a little more secluded.’

  They exited the van and fanned out as they walked to the bank building.

  Smithy heard the distant thud first. All the men stopped and turned to face the small house. A scream from a woman got Smithy moving. His adrenaline skyrocketed, and he raised his SA80 as he turned towards the house. Fingers walked up next to him, a pump-action shotgun out in front of him. The small veranda of the house had dirty white garden furniture littered around it, and a chair was overturned near the single wooden step that went up to the door. The grass in the front garden had grown long then died off. As they walked, Smithy heard another scream, then a laugh from a man.

  ‘Take it slow, gentlemen, and remember the booby traps. No more talking. Take prisoners if you can. You know how the boss loves prisoners,’ he said in a hushed voice against the stock of the SA80.

  A creak in the wooden step brought them to a halt. Muffled voices. Smithy held up a fist and listened. A whimper from the woman and then more laughing. Smithy held up three fingers and then walked forward. The front door was ajar, and he knelt in front of it, waiting for the others to move up behind him. As he pushed the door with the muzzle, it swung open partially, letting in light. Leaning to his left, he scanned what was the main corridor, sweeping the SA80 from left to right. Fingers came up onto his right shoulder, Smithy signalled to enter and go right. He would follow and go left. More laughter from inside.

  Smithy stood up, the two men entered, and he hugged the left of the corridor, then swung his SA80 into the first room. A living room. Furniture had been tipped over and drawers dumped on the floor, contents were strewn around. Piles of magazines were stacked next to a small coffee table on his left. An old TV with a cracked screen was in front of the dirty lace curtain that covered the main window. He stopped and stared through the window, waiting for movement outside the house. They could easily be outflanked and surrounded while inside.

  A creak from behind him and his adrenalin jumped a notch. The laughter stopped. Whispering and then a voice. ‘Is that you, Taylor?’

  Smithy felt the adrenaline pump as he turned around and saw Fingers come out of the other room, his eyes wide. ‘Sure is. You finished yet?’ he replied in a similar southern drawl.

  Smithy nodded and walked out of the room, turning left to head down the wooden corridor. Silence was pointless now.

  ‘What are you talking about, you idiot? We’re only just starting. You’d better get here if you want some of her,’ the voice said from the next room on the right.

  Smithy felt the hair on his neck rising. A small grin appeared as he stopped at the doorway. Looking through the hinged section of the door frame, he could see there was nobody behind the door. His finger rubbed the trigger slightly, and he walked through. When he swung the door open with a hard nudge of his shoulder, it smashed open against the wall behind it and revealed three men. They had a teenage girl tied to the bed, which was in the centre of the room. It had a dark, wooden headboard with a blue blanket covering the mattress. The man who was sitting on a chair near the door took one of Smithy’s swinging boots to the face, as Smithy jumped to the left, letting a round off at the man who was standing at the furthest window. He rocked back into the yellowed lace curtains, his mouth dropping open as he stared at the intruder. He still had his Sig in the holster when Smithy put another three rounds into his chest. The gang member fell sideways onto a wooden dressing table, sinking to the floor.

  The man lying on top of the girl rolled off her and jumped to the ground, tripping over the slumped gang member. A loud retort ripped through the room as the shotgun blasted a hole in the man’s chest. Smithy stared at the girl’s naked body for a second, forcing himself to look away. Fingers showed no such restraint and stood staring, lowering the shotgun.

  ‘Fingers, take this other piece of shit to the main lounge by the door. Tie him up there and take him out to the van.’

  Fingers stood staring at the girl, so Smithy walked into his eye line. ‘Move it.’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he replied, placing the shotgun barrel on the side of the man’s temple. ‘Come on then, buddy, let’s you and I go have a chat.’

  The man struggled to his feet, blood seeping down his nose. His eyes flicked from Smithy to Fingers.

  ‘Get him out of here and try not to kill him. Gibbs will want to interrogate him,’ Smithy said, as he walked over to a wooden standing cupboard next to the window. He pulled the door open to about an inch. No tripwires. Inside, he reached up and grabbed a thick blanket. Turning around, he laid it over the girl. He looked into her tear-stained eyes, and she stared back at him.

  ‘Everything is going to be alright, love.’

  She nodded and watched him as he untied her hands and feet.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Fifteen next month,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s awesome. What is your name?’

  ‘Grace.’

  ‘Hello, Grace. You can call me Smithy. Is there anyone else here in the house. Your family?’

  Her eyes lowered, and tears welled up in the corners. Her lips trembled.

  ‘It’s okay, Grace. You can come with us, and we’ll get you to an enclave to see a doctor as soon as we can. I have water and bread in the van if you’re hungry.’

  She smiled a little and wiped the long black hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears.

  ‘That’s settled then. I’m going to pick you up. Slip your arm around my neck,’ he said, reaching forward and lifting her. She was built like a canary and weighed nothing. Turning to the door, he saw Blondie standing there. ‘Now, Grace, where is your room? Blondie here is going to pack up some clothes for you.’

  She pointed to a door further down the corridor. ‘Come on then, Blondie. Shake a leg. Get Grace her clothes.’ The blond man nodded.

  ‘You speak funny,’ Grace said.

  Smithy laughed as the adrenalin rushed from him. ‘I sure do. You’re going to meet a few more people who speak like me.’

  Fingers was standing in the main doorway. ‘You’re going to meet the Hooded Man, little lady. You heard of him?’

  She nodded and looked up to Smithy. ‘He’s a good man, ain’t he?’

  ‘He is,’ Smithy said, walking out the front door and stopping next to the van. Yes, Gibbs was a good man alright. That was the reason he’d followed him on the mission to the USA, never to see his own wife and child again. He missed them, but if he’d stayed in the UK, he’d have probably died of the virus just like them. Looking across to the bank, then right to the old shops, he saw no movement.

  Fingers and Blondie followed behind him, and as he reached the van, Grace saw the prisoner
sitting behind the truck. His eye was swollen now too. She squeezed Smithy’s neck and pulled herself closer to him. ‘I’m not getting in there with him.’

  ‘He’s tied up, Grace, and I won’t let him lay another finger on you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not going to go in there with him.’

  Smithy looked into her dark eyes and then back to the prisoner. Walking over to Blondie, he handed Grace to him. ‘And behave yourself like a gentleman, Blondie.’

  Walking around the back of the truck, he went down onto his haunches and looked at the man. ‘Now, mate, where has your boss Rebus got to?’ The man stared back at him through swollen eyes. ‘You will talk, you know. The Hooded Man gets everyone to talk. You might lose those fingers and your penis in the process, but you’ll sing like a bird once he goes to work on you.’

  The prisoner’s eyes widened.

  ‘Tell me where Rebus is, I might let you go. You’d be a burden on our resources.’

  ‘Fuck you, arsehole.’

  Smithy looked back at the girl. It wouldn’t be pleasant, them all cramming in the van. Pulling his Glock, he placed the barrel on the man’s forehead. ‘Last chance, sunshine.’

  The man stared up at him. Smithy stood up and walked over to Fingers. ‘Shoot him between the eyes. Strip him of his gang colours and leave him naked in the road for the buzzards.’

  Fingers smiled. ’Be my pleasure, boss.’

  ‘Blondie, put Grace in the passenger seat. Time to go and find Gibbs,’ Smithy said.

  ‘We’re not going to look for these gang members’ vehicle?’ he said, lowering her into the van.

  ‘Let’s get her back to the truck first.’

  • • •

  The row of larger trees that lined the suburban street still had green leaves on them and hadn’t been hacked down for firewood. Rusty fuel-driven cars lined the streets, bullet holes in each one from overexcited young men getting to grips with an outlaw lifestyle. They drove up a little further and pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned Walmart. Gibbs and Stuart were standing near the side of the truck, covering Smithy’s approach. Warren was the first to recognise them and moved away from his position behind the machine gun on the roof, swivelling it to the side. Driving slowly, they parked up behind the truck. Smithy could see Gibbs’s eyebrows rise when he caught sight of the girl in the front seat. Smithy squeezed out from behind the driver’s seat and out into the blazing sun. He’d hardly noticed the heat for a while and reached into the door to pull out a bottle of water.