Red Star Sheriff

by Timothy Purvis

  “You really should have,” a voice cooed from behind them.

  The Guard paused with binders in hand and started to turn at the voice. Two poofs echoed out and a bullet tore through their helmets as if the material were little more than paper. Blood splattered all over Amelia who had twisted just in time to see each man’s head erupt under the gunfire. She leapt backward, hands in the air, and nearly fell over a chair. It rolled in front of her as she came to a stop behind it. The two Guard hit the ground with sickening wet thuds. Sonoros turned, saw the carnage, then his eyes went to Nielson. She’d never seen a man move so fast as he leapt up and over the reception counter breaking a few panels of dividing glass in the process.

  Amelia kept her hands held up, trying to not to show any fear. Nielson flashed a predatory grin. She was reminded of a desert manger in that moment and a chill went up her spine.

  “You should have gone home, Ms. Lynch,” he cooed, menace heavy in his words. “Left Sonoros to me. Actually, I’m feeling generous. You can leave, if you wish. Seeing as how you’ve discovered what kind of man he really is. Cowardly and self-serving. Why bother with him further? What can protecting him possibly do for you? Or are you still feeling like a momma bear? Willing to reach for that peashooter again and try your luck once more?”

  She narrowed her eyes, steadied her resolve. “I won’t be reaching for my gun.”

  It was empty anyway. Though she had no intention of telling him that detail. Nielson’s grin broadened.

  “You see there, I knew you were a reasona—”

  Amelia kicked the chair in front of her with all the force she could muster. It zoomed forward taking Nielson by surprise as its seat slammed into his lower knee. A loud crack echoed out and he flailed over the chair’s backside, crumpling to the ground in loud protests of profanities and howling pain. She twisted in the same moment, racing for the reception counter. She jumped up on a table, via a chair, then leapt over the counter to land roughly where she saw Sonoros duck down. He was still there, arms wrapped around his knees and trembling like a scolded puppy.

  “Come on, you miserable son-of-a-bitch!” She grasped him firmly by his arm. This time, he offered no resistance.

  They raced towards the exit across from them. Nielson let the curses fly as he stumbled to his feet, saliva flying from his mouth. He fired at them, blasting off several panels of ornate glass dividers. They managed to reach the corridor barely evading three shots burying into the doorframe.

  “Your family makes very poor decisions, Lynch!” She heard Nielson calling after.

  She ignored him and guided Sonoros down the hall. They came to a stairwell, and she pushed him forward. Sonoros gave a sniveling cry bordering on hysterical scream. He picked up his robe hem and gripped it tightly as they rushed down the stairs.

  “Where do we go!? What do we do!?”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure that out! Just keep moving!”

  She was frantic as the thoughts careened through her mind. She had no idea what they were going to do. She was out of ammunition, so her gun was useless. So far, only luck and surprise had been their ally. They would need more than that moving forward if they were to survive. Maybe, she considered, if they were fast enough, they could hit the front foyer before he found them. If they were fast enough.

  The feeling of dread was more pronounced than ever.

  “Go faster! Don’t trip!” she shouted at Sonoros, struggling to follow her own advice.

  NIELSON HOBBLED FORWARD towards the reception counter. His knee felt dislocated causing him to swear profusely. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they made a stairwell and ran downward. Definitely not going that way, he figured. He gripped the side of the reception counter where he rested beside a ledge. Then, marshalling his resolve, rammed his knee into the counter wall. The knee cracked back into place.

  “Fucking Wastelanders!” he howled and took a moment to gather his wits.

  He stood straight, tested his ability to stand on the leg. It hurt like hell but bended as evolved. “So be it, Ms. Lynch. Have it your way.”

  He checked his clip. Two bullets left. Probably more than enough, he mused, but elected to switch the chamber out for a fresh clip just in case. Clicking the clip into place, he holstered his gun and went back to the lifts, whistling a sardonic tune.

  Reaching the lift, he hit the summon button. The doors slid open and he entered. As the elevator lowered, he reflected on the mission he’d been given. He hated Mars. With a passion. The people were arrogant and/or stupid. The cities too round and phallic looking. The air too clean and sanitized smelling. Outside of the Wastelands, all the domains were too prissy and important acting. Everybody he met acted like they were the most important person ever. And everything they said was must hear news.

  Nope. Give him Earth. Where the pollution was thick, the people fearful, and the whole world was a bulky, gritty mess. He’d been trained by the Conciliates to assassinate leaders, disrupt societies, be a general—but secret—menace. Not play bodyguard to some reckless general without a clue in his body about what the actual mission was to be accomplished. That got him to thinking.

  Why didn’t Lee tell Berricks we were the vanguard to invasion? Sure, we were supposed to stir up some rebellious activities, but it was never needed. We were really just to stay put until his say so. Create some chaos while you’re there, he told me. But don’t worry the general over it. Let him look for his daughter. Let him think we’re waging a pressure campaign to divide a civilization. But, why not tell the general the plans? None of this makes sense! Almost a year now! Get in orbit. Then go after a book I heard about. It’ll be fun! Nielson rubbed his aching knee and growled to himself, gritting his teeth. Now, I’m chasing after some asshole senator and a fucking hunter’s shitass hellspawn! Oh, Elliot, you’ve got to find yourself another line of work, mate.

  The lift binged and he straightened, then pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. The doors opened and he stepped out into the great hall of the main foyer. The four-story window down the stairwell rose up to an elegant height where the sleek architecture of Hinon design was on full display. Eight pillars rose up as well to meet the ceilings. Here, two pillars held up a small section of ceiling covering the corridor ringing the building. In the foyer beyond the hall, six other pillars ran down the stairwell. Each equidistance from one another. All rising higher the lower down the lobby they went. The two tallest nearest the entrance and rising up the full four stories to collide into the ceiling high above. Above him were three more stories worth of corridor balconies overlooking the foyer. The guardrails there rimming thick, mounted safety glass.

  He limped forward to a column nearest him. He’d wait on the other side of it, because this was where they were coming. He was certain of that fact. The young woman was clever, but fairly linear in thinking, he’d come to conclude. So linear in fact, he never anticipated her leaping out of a window on the ninety-seventh floor, or her kicking a chair before her into his knee. He should’ve seen all of that coming, of course, he considered. Because she was simple. And kicking a chair was the most simple act.

  He wouldn’t underestimate her again. No, he had the reports on her. Where she went. Whom she met. What she did. And she rarely came to the Praetorium. and when she did, it was usually just to arrange a meeting with a senator, or to grab lunch with one of her girlfriends on the first level.

  No. She’d read where her situation was and make the best, most logical decision. Try to beat him to the foyer and escape via the front doors. Linear. Straight and to the point. Less fuss that way. A good, simple way to live life. And he was a little envious of that. In his line of work, he had to think three dimensionally. Consider every angle of attack (something he’d been lapsing on lately while dealing with Wastelanders. Those people didn’t think logically, let alone rationally). Yet, occasionally, as he had so recently been reminded, the best way through a problem was via a simple solution. And young Ms. Lynch was a master in that
regard.

  Nielson leaned against the pillar facing the great window beyond. The stairwell was only a floor from this perspective, the stairs leading down to the front entrance where a series of doors, sliding standard and revolving plasmic, waited eager constituents who had ideas for policy or needed some sort of help in their districts. He needed to sit down as his knee was throbbing viciously. However, that would have to wait until his current problem was solved.

  Simple problem to solve. With simple means. A bullet. The thought made him smile as he stared out to the skyline in the distance. The buildings were red-orange silhouettes broken by specks of light where windows still showcased lit rooms. Now that he thought about it, he’d never really taken the time to smell the proverbial rose on the side of the road. Never taken the time to appreciate the architecture of any given city or location. Sure, he observed well enough. Remembered everywhere he’d been. But to actually pause and to think, ‘What a beautiful skyline’, that had never been on his mind. Until now. Strange I should think about that now. It really is elegant architecture, isn’t it? A shame to spoil it with bloody corpses. Oh well. That’s for the janitorial staff to worry about. I think tomorrow, I’m going to put in for some vacation time.

  RED STAR SHERIFF… Aidele let the idea of it spin around in her head. Her world was still spinning after the revelations Grandfather had sprung on her. All that mom went through… But, would my following in her footsteps be worthwhile? Okay, I’d have a title, something the Council couldn’t ignore… However, the time, I just don’t have the time…

  She walked, no destination in mind. Just a need to ruminate and work through the clawing doubt rising to the surface. The Council had declined to pursue Berricks and decided it was best to ignore the Union presence. But, if she went after Berricks herself, how would the Union react? Would they retaliate against Hinon? Of course, if invasion was the plan that was a moot point. Would they sue the government for her head? But the most pressing thought that washed over her with such suddenness was did she still want to even go after the man? She and her family had already suffered enough and now she wondered if Grandfather hadn’t just been right from the get go and she still itched for a fight? Looking for that thrill she got racing across the Wastelands like a bat out of hell?

  Aidele found herself on a bridge walkway. One of the many encircling the Praetorium pavilions. It was nearly dark now, likely just past seven, she figured. And the lights surrounding this bridgeway showed a flat grey surface with hand railing on one side and a series of bleachers aligned along a wall to the other. Almost as if the builders had intended spectators at random intervals to stare down upon government proceedings in awe. Even though all they could possibly see was the lush landscape surrounding the massive domed building at the center. The bleachers weren’t very wide, though. Maybe a few dozen feet then they were broken up by lounging spots and eateries. Some choicely placed storefronts built into the tall walls rising up and barely dividing a series of high-rise apartments from the overlooks themselves.

  She saw one eatery two bleacher sections down with light streaming out its front windows invitingly. Whoever owned it, likely still hoping for late evening wanderers to happen across them.

  She turned towards the railing and rested her forearms over the edge, hands clasped. An eerie silence pervaded the landscape. A dry, yet cool, wind flowed over her and the city. However, it was hardly enjoyable. It had an artificial feel to it, not like the breezy atmosphere of the Wastelands. And something else was missing as well. There were no animal calls. No insects buzzing and chirping. No birds singing their songs. No barking of mangy mutts. Even the voices of people seemed gone. It was a bright, sparkling city. Bathed in every neon color imaginable with a vivid dark red sky (black directly overhead) where stars peaked out, glittering as they had for eons. And the trees on the pavilion below barely swayed under the subtle winds being generated.

  Under the stillness, under the silence, under the stagnant smells of a city allegedly always in motion—there was no life. Not one soul walking and laughing that she’d seen in her self-imposed musings. Not even the rippling rainbow phenomenon present in the Wastelands shielding networks. It was all just a perfectly sanitized realization of what a proper domain should look like.

  She hated it.

  All she wanted to do was go home. Yet, there was no home to go home to, she realized. Berricks had seen to that. She let her head drop to her forearms, her hat brushing her hands. What am I going to do?

  A whirring buzz echoed through the air and she lifted her head back up. A zipcoach zoomed overhead and towards a transit terminal across the pavilion nearest the overlook she stood upon. From this vantage, her view was unhindered by any of the foliage laid out all across the various lawns. What she saw made her furrow her brows. Three people exited the coach. Two men and a woman. A woman she’d know anywhere, even at this distance. Her powerful gait was just too unique to her.

  “Fucking bitch…” Aidele muttered seeing Asta Lynch guide the men (one a tall and tanned Wastelander who she was certain was Drevan Polk, the other a young man with cream colored skin looking very much like a city kid) towards the main foyer of the Praetorium. “Whatchou doin’, Lynch? Come ta Aquila Mons lookin’ fer a pardon fer yer crimes? Don’ think they give much care ‘bout us Wastelanders.”

  Yet, her snide remark felt hollow. She wasn’t even sure she felt angry at the sight of Lynch. What’s wrong, girl? Lost a taste for hate towards Berricks or a fight with Lynch? …Mind’s a total fuck job right now… No, there was only the sensation that something was very wrong. However, that wrongness had nothing to do with Lynch herself, or even so much about Berricks. Rather, it was the way Lynch was hurrying up the foyer stairs. An urge to follow came to Aidele and she couldn’t say why. Only search out a stairwell to hit the pavilion below and cross over to the Praetorium.

  AMELIA SHOT OUT of the stairwell doors guiding Sonoros across the foyer. The front entrance was clearly in view as they wasted no time for words sprinting like their lives depended on it. Amelia was fairly certain that they did. Sonoros huffed loudly behind her. The man obviously rarely exercised, if ever. Her own heart pounded viciously, though. Freedom was just down those stairs. A poof rang out and pain shot up her thigh. Her left leg gave and she hit the floor, hard. Sonoros screamed and only went quiet when a voice called out.

  “You didn’t actually think I’d let you leave did you, Sonoros?”

  Amelia looked back over her shoulder from where she fell and was now holding her screaming thigh. Nielson stepped forward from where he’d been standing in wait beside a support column. She gritted her teeth and chastised herself. Of course, he was waiting! Could’ve gone anywhere in the building, but, no, he knew exactly where you’d run, dumbass! She wouldn’t let the pain cause her to cry. She wouldn’t give the weasel the satisfaction.

  Nielson smiled pleasantly, holding his gun towards them. Sonoros sniveled and fell to his knees. He raised his hands up.

  “Please! This is a mistake! I don’t know why the general sent you! I was just trying to help! The president got my word about the journal, now didn’t he?”

  “You really are pathetic, senator. That you didn’t anticipate this is exactly why I was sent. And you, Ms. Lynch. I keep giving you chances. And you waste them on this pitifully useless man. A pity you die tonight.”

  I hope somebody blasts that stupid grin off your face… Amelia thought and collapsed down onto her side. There was nothing else for it, all of their effects were for nothing.

  I really should’ve left the office ten till…

  NIELSON STOOD THERE, weapon trained. The girl had gone down quickly. Better than he could’ve hoped for. Now, Sonoros had no further protection. It was an absolute pleasure to see the man groveling on his knees like the coward he really was. It was regrettable young Ms. Lynch felt such loyalty to the fool. Now she had to go too, and that gave him one less bargaining chip against old Ms. Lynch and company.

  Oh well. T
hese things happen. He trained his gun on Sonoros’ head. The man cringed, tears flowing down his face. But before Nielson pulled the trigger, he was distracted by the sudden appearance of three people racing up the stairwell. Two with weapons drawn and aimed at him. All of them he knew. Lynch, Polk, and their son. Nielson threw himself to the floor and rolled head first back towards the column and behind it just as a volley of bullets ringed the pillar and the floor he’d recently occupied.

  Running footsteps clacked off the marble floor as the scowling visage of Asta Lynch came to the top step, her raging voice ricocheting off every wall. “Why ya hidin’ now, Nielson!? Come on out’n let’s finish this fer good! Come on out’n play mah game, ya mangy manger!”

  Nielson attempted to get a bead on her from around the pillar but her and Polk’s gunfire was quicker than he anticipated and was forced to duck back behind the column.

  “See you two managed to escape your cages, Lynch,” Nielson called out. “And after all of our hospitality, too.”

  Two more bullets blasted away stone from the column on each side of him. “Big talk fer a scared li’l shit! Tol’ ya bafer, ah’m gonna kill you! Looks like ternite’s yer lucky night! Come see if’n ya got what it takes ta stan’ toe ta toe wit’ me, wit’out yer army, ya li’l pissant!”

  Nielson sighed and rested the barrel of his silencer to his forehead. “Can I assume Ms. Wilson is somewhere nearby as well, then?”

  “Ah don’ know what happened ta Aidele, but yer boys done took down that lab, awright! And them wit’ it! That what ya wanna hear? Yer troopers led by Thompson done went’n got ‘emselves kilt! Ha! Jus’ you’n me now, hunneybunch! Come on out, we’ll talk it over!”

  “With all due respect, Ms. Lynch. I don’t think there’s anything you have to say that I want to hear.”

  He was trapped behind a pillar with two gunslingers eager for his blood and no real good options at hand. It was only a matter of time before they flanked him. Likely after they made sure the girl was safe. Then, that would be that. He needed a plan and he needed it fast. A throbbing pain made him wince and he rubbed his knee. What a fucking day…