A Route of Wares: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure: Hollow Island Book One

by Daniel Coleman

  “Throw her things back in the bag,” added Nash, “along with an apology. Or you’re going to see Wizard and lizard gizzard blown against that wall.”

  In the edge of the field of his vision, Nash saw John Wayne appraising him. “You went with the rhyme, huh?” he muttered. “I guess it wasn’t horrible.”

  Nash shrugged, self-conscious about it now, but unable to take it back. “I thought about rapping it, but that was probably over the top.” Nerves made it hard to be casual, but he was trying to keep things lowkey.

  For almost two months Nash had lived on a nearby island in the Culebra Training Center. In addition to gene therapy and implantation of his mechanical eye, he’d learned some fighting techniques, and received some gun and first aid training. Suddenly lacking in his skillset was knowledge of exactly how to deal with a situation like this one, and even the details of what exactly the laws here said.

  But this woman was being pushed around and Nash couldn’t help but see his sister Karolina in her. Someone was trying to push her around and take advantage of her just because they were stronger, just like people had done to him and Karolina their whole lives. This was what he’d come to Hollow Island for.

  The Snake pulled his hands out of the saddlebag as if they were two smaller snakes and slunk toward the newcomers with sinewy movements. As Nash watched him approach, both tattooed hands bobbing in the air in front of him, a bio came up—a name, followed by the word BOUNTY in capital letters. Before Nash could see any more, the other man caught his attention. He had released Chiel, and she fell limply to the ground. He also walked slowly toward Nash and John Wayne.

  “That’s close enough,” said John Wayne pulling his gun.

  Nash followed suit, and took a moment to verify the Lead setting even though he didn’t want to. John Wayne was aiming at the Snake, so Nash covered the Wizard. Both men came to a stop. The Snake man blinked sideways eyelids and grinned a predator’s smile.

  His companion flipped a coin in the air and caught it without looking at it. “Nothing to see here, Rangers.” He flipped the coin again, this time toward Nash.

  Nash watched it coming and kept his finger off the trigger so he didn’t accidentally pull it when his other hand closed around the coin. Watching the men closely, Nash snatched the coin from the air.

  It was a kilo, the second biggest coin on the island. While he still didn’t have a good grasp of the value of money here, he knew that was a sizeable amount. Well that hadn’t taken long to get offered his first bribe.

  “I’m not for sale,” said Nash, tossing the coin at the feet of the man who’d offered the bribe.

  The man didn’t watch it coming and let it clink onto the street unnoticed. His dark eyes had fire in them now. No, not fire. Lightning. “I said, nothing to see here, Rangers. Take the party somewhere else.” He snapped his fingers and a spark of electricity flashed in his hand. A sharp crack split the air as he did so.

  So, the Wizard’s endowment had something to do with electricity. That explained how he’d stunned Chiel.

  “That looked like a threat you just made to my young pard,” drawled John Wayne. “Which frankly pisses me off. You got two choices now. Handcuffs, or a body bag.”

  The Wizard motioned with his head and the Snake started forward slowly.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” said John Wayne.

  The Snake continued forward, his head down as if trying to hypnotize them with the intricate eyes tattooed in the center of his crown.

  “Well,” said John Wayne casually. “It’s your funeral.”

  Nash didn’t want anyone getting killed today and took a step forward. At the same time, the Snake stopped, apparently believing John Wayne was ready to pull the trigger. With his free hand, Nash reached back and yanked the handcuffs off the bottom of his flatpack. “Turn around.”

  The Snake’s mouth opened slowly, revealing two prominent fangs. A throaty hiss filled the alley air as a thick, bifurcated tongue emerged from between the fangs and whipped the air in Nash’s direction.

  “That thing is gross,” said Nash. “Looks uncomfortable, too, but not as uncomfortable as a bullet in the face.”

  The Snake man’s hiss quieted and to Nash’s surprise, his hands went behind his back.

  “Good,” said Nash. “Now turn around.” Nash’s heart was pounding, but he started to think this encounter might actually end without anyone getting a bullet in the head.

  The Snake had other ideas. Slowly he pulled his arms back around to the front, revealing a cobra in each hand. The snakes’ hoods were flared out and they hissed as their heads bobbed to take in the scene around them.

  Where the hell had he been hiding those?

  “Oh, fig no,” said John Wayne. His gun went off twice, so quickly it almost sounded like a single shot. Nash’s bones shook and his ears rang. The bullets had passed within centimeters of him, and Nash caught the strong smell of burnt gunpowder. Echoes of the blasts rebounded off the walls of the alley.

  The Snake man was left holding two headless snakes, bodies whipping brainlessly in the air. Nash caught himself staring at his trainer dumbfounded. Those shots, that fast and that accurate were impossible.

  Yet there were the two snakes, missing their heads entirely. The Snake man was looking from one side to the other, his eyes widening in rage. Screaming a hiss, he dropped the lifeless cobra bodies and … struck. That was the only way Nash could describe the speed of his movement as the Snake man flashed forward with his fangs bared.

  Instinct and a decade of MMA training took over and Nash brought his free hand into the temple of the lunging Snake, stunning him momentarily. As Nash took a step back to bring his gun up, two thin bolts of electricity split the air, coming toward him from the direction of the Wizard. One bolt bit Nash on his gun wrist. Instantly his arm from the elbow down was dead. Not tingling or asleep, but completely lacking feeling as if he’d never had a forearm. His gun fell to the ground and he heard John Wayne’s gun clatter against the street as well.

  That certainly made the fight more interesting.

  The Wizard went toward John Wayne as Nash grabbed the stunned Snake’s forearm, using it to spin around behind him and wrap one arm under the chin. Rear naked choke, one of the most advantageous positions in mixed martial arts, and a move you could pull off passably with only one and a half working arms. Even better, with Nash on the Snake’s back, the weird creature didn’t have a chance to use those nasty fangs, which had to be poisonous. Nash would bet his shiny new eye on it.

  The Snake’s skin wasn’t tattooed after all; it felt exactly like snake scales. Whatever this guy was, he’d gone through some significant genetic engineering to get to this point.

  The Snake tried to wriggle free. His motions were quick and almost boneless, but Nash had too much experience locking in the hold.

  Nash sunk his hand deeper into the fold of his free elbow and squeezed. In less than six seconds, the Snake would be unconscious and Nash could cuff him then help John Wayne with the Wizard. The cobra pattern on the Snake’s bald head was eerily realistic, and it looked like the false eyes were blinking at him.

  That wasn’t his imagination! Two dark pits had opened in the back of the Snake’s head. Nash couldn’t look away from the strange sight. He squeezed tighter, hoping to incapacitate his enemy and get away quickly.

  A burst of green liquid shot from each eye pit, splashing across both of Nash’s eyes and half his face. Fire erupted across Nash’s entire world, and his eyes burned like they’d been plucked out, injected with flesh-eating acid, then reinserted.

  A scream of pain tore from Nash’s throat and he lashed his head back and forth trying to clear the stinging as if he could shake the venom from his face. The pain was more excruciating than anything he’d ever experienced, but he didn’t release his grip.

  Nash wasn’t sure if the sound of sizzling skin was his imagination or if the venom was in fact eating away layer after layer of skin and eye tissue. If Nash’s hand
s were free he would use his fingernails to scrape all the skin off his face and rip his own eyeballs out.

  The Snake went limp. The sensation of having someone pass out in a chokehold wasn’t unfamiliar to Nash, though in competition and sparring, his opponents almost always tapped out before getting that far.

  Nash let the man fall from his grasp, then went to his knees and raked his sleeves across his face. Thankfully, removing the venom caused the burning of his skin to subside slightly, but there was little he could do about his eyes. Hollow Island didn’t have eyewash stations conveniently located wherever chemicals were used.

  Fresh pain burned through Nash’s eyes as he blinked to try to clear the venom. The world was entirely black. Even his titanium eye wasn’t giving him anything. It must have gotten fried by the acid just like the real eye. Nash imagined one short-circuiting eyeball and one scarred, shriveled eyeball peering from his own sockets. The pain burned from both sides and he kept blinking against it. If he had any hope of ever getting his vision back, he needed to clear the poison from his eyeballs.

  Footsteps approached from the direction John Wayne and the Wizard had been. They were unhurried, which gave Nash hope that John Wayne had subdued the Wizard and could help him cut off all of his face skin and gouge his eyes out to make the pain stop.

  “I told you there was nothing to see, Ranger,” spat the Wizard, close enough to Nash’s head to let him know that John Wayne was out of the fight. “Now you’ll never see anything again.”

  Nash raised his hands in a defensive sparring position to protect his head. As soon as the Wizard spoke again, Nash would lunge and rely on his grappling skills to either choke out the Wizard or break both of his arms. It was long odds for sure.

  Maybe there was a chance they could all get out of this without any more fighting.

  “Let’s call this a draw,” said Nash. “In fact, I’ll give you the TKO. Just get your Snake and walk away.”

  The evening was silent and dark. Both eyes felt as if someone had held them open, sliced them with a dull knife, then poured lemon juice in them. Distant market sounds reached the alley, so he knew his ears worked. Had the Wizard taken the offer and left?

  Something hit Nash in the gut, hard, like a baseball bat. Nash found himself curled up on the ground, groaning and clutching his stomach, trying to breathe and trying to not vomit at the same time. That was a kick, he realized.

  As Nash blinked, he thought he could see a faint glow if he looked into the sky. Maybe he wouldn’t be completely blind for the rest of his life.

  Shoes scuffed the pavement and a dark shape blocked the brightness in front of his face. When Nash felt like the man was in range, he struck out and landed a glancing blow with his fist.

  A cough and a chuckle. From a different angle, the Wizard said, “You have some fight in you.” He kicked Nash in the ribs, sending him flipping around onto his side.

  Nash either had to grab the man and subdue him or get his gun back. Doing a quick and dirty approximation of where the gun fell and where he was now, Nash scraped his hands along the asphalt in search of his weapon. At any second, another kick would come. Nash would grab hold for everything he was worth.

  His hand brushed against something metal and he dove on it with both hands. Hopefully it was his own gun and not John Wayne’s. Guns were biometrically imprinted and could only be used by the Ranger who they belonged to.

  Both hands wrapped the gun and as Nash brought it around in the direction he thought the Wizard was standing, a kick hit him in the wrists and sent the gun flying. He heard it slide too far away to go after at the moment. Nash’s only hope was grappling, so he dove in the direction of the kick.

  It was a perfect lunge. Nash wrapped both arms around the Wizard’s thighs.

  Ideas flashed instantly through Nash’s mind.

  Gouge an eye, rip his balls off, break his neck!

  His body was already moving, acting according to the reflexes he’d honed. Nash lifted the Wizard off the ground over his shoulder. He would slam the man to the ground so hard, there would be a Wizard-shaped indentation in the asphalt.

  “Enough,” said the Wizard with the authority of an incantation.

  Nash felt a pinprick in his neck. His entire body lost sensation and he collapsed to the ground like a marionette with cut strings. The Wizard landed on top of him. Nash only knew that because his face was pointed in that direction and he saw a dark shape push off and detach itself.

  At least the pain was gone completely, gloriously. Nash’s eyes were open but he couldn’t even move his gaze. Completely paralyzed. The roof of a building was outlined against the faint swath sky behind it.

  So much for taking his time and learning the ropes of Hollow Island. Nash had failed in record time.

  2

  Stupid Overpowered Ranger

  << 39 – Number of distinct Castes confirmed to date.

  - hollowisland.com/stats >>

  A thousand times in his life, Nash and his sister had been helpless children, shuffled around the foster-care system, completely at the mercy of the bureaucracy. Lying on the street of Hollow Island at the feet of an enemy felt like every powerless moment of his life so far compounded into a single instant. At least his sister was somewhere far away on Hollow Island, and not right here suffering with him. His failure wouldn’t hurt Karonlina today.

  The outline of the tall Wizard loomed over Nash, all shadows and silhouettes. “I don’t like you!” He punched Nash in the face. From the jarring changes in vision and sickening sound of head on stone, Nash assumed his head bounced on the pavement, but still he didn’t feel a thing.

  The man circled him, staring down. “Stupid—” he kicked Nash somewhere below chest level. “Overpowered—” another kick, probably in side, “Ranger!” He kicked Nash in the cheek sending his head flopping around again.

  The world spun and he thought he’d pass out, but there was no pain at all. It was like watching some special effects from faraway on the hollows, and for a moment, Nash wondered if he’d dreamed the whole, short Ranger adventure. When the world came back into focus, Nash discovered his head had lolled to the side, facing the rising form of the Snake. He could still only make out forms, but the lithe shape of the Snake man was easy enough to identify, and he imagined the Snake man shaking off his own stars.

  So this is how it ends.

  That Snake is probably going to unhinge his jaws and swallow me. At least Nash wouldn’t feel a thing as long as the paralysis didn’t wear off.

  Footsteps paced away from Nash and the larger outline went toward the smaller, skinnier outline and helped him the rest of the way up. “I’ve never seen anyone take you down, much less dominate you like that. The Mongoose, that’s this Ranger’s new nickname.” The Wizard’s tone was slightly awed, slightly mocking. He knew the battle was over and was having fun with his buddy at this point.

  The Wizard and Snake turned their heads toward Nash. The Snake opened his mouth and a series of susurrant sounds came out.

  The Wizard seemed to understand the general idea. “How hard did I hit them? The cowboy will be down for at least ten minutes. The kid got a lot more juice. I freaked a little and gave him everything I had left. If he ever walks again he’ll be lucky, and he won’t do it without a limp. I wouldn’t be surprised if his spinal column exploded out his rectum from the jolt.” He kicked Nash somewhere on the leg. “Look. He pissed himself. Been a while since I made someone do that. Buggered his nervous system for sure.”

  Never walk again? And on top of it all, Nash had pissed himself for the whole world to see. This day just kept getting better and better.

  The Snake said something else in his slurred manner.

  “The kid, I mean, the Mongoose I’ve never seen before,” answered the Wizard, walking out of Nash’s view. “Might be too new for us to make any money off of. That old Ranger, the cowboy, he’s a decent one, as far as Rangers go. I’ve heard he can be easy to work with.” When he came back into
Nash’s view, a coil of rope hung from one blurry arm. “Here, you do that handcuff knot in one end and I’ll do it in the other.”

  More words came from the Snake man’s mouth.

  “No, I don’t want to use their handcuffs,” said the Wizard. “If the keys turn out to be imprinted to them specifically, it will make it tricky down the road. Just tie this.”

  Nash wanted to close his eyes and take a few breaths while they went to work on the rope, but his eyelids wouldn’t obey. He still couldn’t tell if they were going to kill him, eat him, sell him, or just let him lie here in a heap until he starved to death. He didn’t want to roll over and die, but all the fight in the world wouldn’t do him any good if he couldn’t so much as move his eyelids.

  Okay, Nash. Time to use your endowment.

  With glaring clarity, he realized he should have asked back in training when they’d made him a Jennie how to make it kick in. Every Ranger was genetically modified in one unique way, given one gift that set them apart, along with at least one weakness or physical flaw. He suspected John Wayne’s quick, accurate shooting was due to his endowment.

  Speed healing. Possibly the best endowment Nash had ever heard of, and according to the scientist who’d modified him, he was the first immigrant to receive it. He didn’t mind being the guinea pig for a chance to be able to heal at two or three times what unmodified people could.

  The problem was, he had no idea if it actually worked. Or if he was supposed to do something to make it kick in. They’d only finished his genetic modifications a few days before he immigrated, and he hadn’t had any injuries since then to try it out on.