Crawford smiled at this and lowered the drill. The bad guys always like it when they think they’ve outsmarted you.
“Bring them both,” Crawford said.
Crawford’s Skylark was sitting in a yard behind the main building. It had been landed in the exact spot where we were supposed to deliver the whiskey. Skeet and I were hustled aboard. We went quietly. For now. Crawford knew we’d have a much better chance of escaping once we were away from the freight depot and he didn’t take any chances. He filled the Skylark with as many armed guards as he could pack in there. Some of them had to stand.
As everyone settled down, one of Crawford’s minions leaned in close and whispered something to him.
“Hijacked?” Crawford asked.
“It just dropped off the grid,” the man said. “No contact with the driver.”
“Didn’t we deal with that gang?” Crawford asked.
The minion nodded. “We haven’t lost a truck in months.”
Truck hijackings weren’t uncommon – thieves like the fact that you can just take the rig and its cargo and drive it away. Even a crook like Crawford must suffer an occasional loss. Hopefully, he’d think this one was the same as all the others – and not connected in any way to us.
“Give it another hour,” Crawford said. “If he doesn’t report in, send a team out to look for it.”
Crawford looked at me and I pretended I hadn’t been listening. I was hoping that the missing truck he was talking about was the one that Harmony had taken.
There was no point attempting to hijack the Skylark mid-flight – there was hardly enough room to breathe never mind fight. We would have to wait until we were on the ground. We didn’t have to wait long. It was only a ten-minute hop from the city over to the squash field where the trailer had been stashed.
The Skylark settled down on the side of the highway and Crawford’s men shuffled out. They formed two lines outside, creating a corridor between the hatch of the Skylark and the back doors of the trailer.
“My old man used to grow squash,” Crawford said as we stepped out into the night. “I hated the stuff. Still do.”
I nodded as if I could give a squit. Skeet was looking around nervously, as well he might. There had been no opportunity for me to talk to him and let him know what had happened since the roadhouse – or what might be about to happen next. The fact that I only had a vague idea of what might be about to happen made me nervous too.
“It’s not locked,” I said, nodding towards the trailer.
Crawford waved two of his men to go and open it up. The men approached it cautiously. I didn’t blame them.
The doors were swung open. I couldn’t see anything in there but darkness. If the whiskey had still been in there, it would have been stacked to the door. The darkness was a good sign.
“Get a light in there,” Crawford said.
Someone tossed a big LED torch to one of the men by the doors. He switched it on and swung the beam inside the trailer.
“There’s nothing...”
There was something. A big metal something. It exploded out of the shadows in the trailer. Floyd. He was armoured and he was armed.
“Down!” I threw myself at the ground and pulled Skeet down with me. We buried our faces in the dirt.
Crawford’s men opened fire and I heard the impact of explosive charges against Floyd’s steel plates. Some exploded and some ricocheted off and blew up harmlessly in the field. Something warm and wet splattered the ground around us. Thankfully it was pumpkin flesh not human.
Floyd was armed with a zap gun and it was much bigger than the one I carried in the Trekker. More of Doogal’s work, I suspected. At close range the zap gun could cause burns, but at this distance it would just disrupt the working of weapons and the human nervous system. Crawford’s men were at risk of temporary paralysis and unconsciousness – and possibly incontinence – but nothing worse.
“Get back to the ship!” Crawford shouted.
I crawled off into the longer grass and Skeet followed me.
“Smells like Halloween,” he said as more scorched pumpkin rained down around us. There was a crazy grin on his face. Adrenalin high, I was feeling it too.
We ducked our heads as the Skylark took to the air. Clouds of dust, leaves and twigs swirled around us. And then there was silence.
“Floyd?” I called. “You all right?”
“They scratched my armour,” he said.
As if anyone would notice, I thought. I was smart enough not to say this out loud. Skeet and I got to our feet and brushed off the mud, bits of grass and pumpkin seeds.
Floyd’s armour was blotched with circular shapes that looked like little black suns. Other than that he didn’t look to have been damaged by the gunfire. I looked around us. The ground was churned up but all of Crawford’s men were gone – dragged back on board by their comrades.
“No fatalities,” Floyd said, “in case you were wondering.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Skeet said. “Both of you.”
“Please tell me we don’t have to walk back to town,” I said.
“No, just up to the farm,” Floyd said. “The Trekker’s there and so is the truck.”
“Truck?” I asked, noting the singular.
“The other one is already in place just waiting for a driver,” Floyd said.
I smiled. It sounded as if everything was going according to plan. Floyd set off into the darkness, a light on his chest casting a dim light on the ground. If he was following a path, I couldn’t see it.
“Any word from Harmony?” I asked.
“What do you think?” Floyd asked.
Harmony was good at her job but she wasn’t used to being a team player. We’d had communication issues with her in the past.
“She’ll be there,” I said.
“Right,” Floyd said. “Again and for the record, I will say that we shouldn’t put all of our eggs in her basket.”
“We haven’t,” I said. “We all have our parts to play in this.”
“Why do my parts involve getting shot at?” Floyd asked.
“Because you’re good at it,” I said.
Floyd stomped off ahead saying nothing.
“That was pretty good thinking, getting yourself captured so you could rescue me,” Skeet said.
I blushed. This would have been embarrassing even if it was true. I didn’t want to disillusion him by explaining that it wasn’t. Never demoralise the troops the night before a battle.
Chapter Fifty
We spent the night at Doogal’s yard. I should have been too nervous to sleep but exhaustion overcame me. I didn’t open my eyes until dawn’s light came shining in on dusty beams.
Skeet didn’t look like he’d slept. His face was pale and the left side of his jaw was still swollen.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“About the same as you, I reckon,” he said.
“Do I look that bad?”
“Worse,” Skeet said. “Does this hotel have room service?”
“I’m afraid not,” Floyd said. “We’ll have to get takeout. Doogal took our money and headed off to spend a night in the town.”
“In the town or on the town?” Skeet asked.
“Is there a difference?” Floyd asked.
“Oh, yes!” Skeet said.
A skinny yellow robot walked into the barn. I’d have drawn my pistol but he was carrying two paper sacks that smelled like breakfast.
“I sent him up to the truck stop,” Floyd said.
Floyd had a new sidekick. That was cute. It was a ten-mile roundtrip to the drive-thru. Not that the robot would have cared. But Floyd must have sent him out long before we were awake. That was very thoughtful of him.
“Thanks,” I said, accepting one of the bags. “Who’s your new friend?”
“We need another driver, remember?” Floyd said.
“I’ll do it,” Skeet said.
“I would
n’t advise it,” I said. “There’s likely to be a lot more shooting today.”
“What he means is, robots are expendable,” Floyd said, pointedly.
“No, it’s just that you’re easier to repair,” I said. “Do you know how much it costs to put a human brain into a new body?”
“Too much,” Floyd said. “No human brain is worth the effort.”
“I take it we have a plan, then?” Skeet asked, his mouth full of bread and sausage patty. I think he wanted to try and change the subject.
“He calls it a plan,” Floyd said.
“Don’t mind him,” I said. “He’s never at his best in a morning.”
Hmph! Floyd said. He stomped outside to where the Trekker and two of the trucks were parked. His new friend followed him.
“Give us a minute,” I said to Skeet. “I need to talk to Floyd about the plan.”
I left Skeet munching away on his breakfast.
Outside, Floyd had the trunk of the Trekker open and was sorting through the tools.
“Just once I would like my new body to be an upgrade,” he said.
“Next time, I promise,” I said. “We’ll use whatever we get from Flint.”
“How much did you promise Harmony?” Floyd asked.
“Half of my half,” I said.
“Do you think she’ll put out for that?”
I looked at him and shook my head in disbelief.
“Me neither,” Floyd said.
“We need to get your social protocols updated,” I said. “You spent too much time on a military ship.”
“I’m beginning to wish I was back there. Here, use this to open my chest cavity.”
According to the map on the Trekker’s screen, Doogal’s was only twenty-three miles from the city limits. The spot on the docks where we were supposed to deliver the whiskey was five miles beyond that. Twenty-eight miles in total. That’s all we had to cover before the noon deadline. Even if we’d been driving in rush hour traffic it would only take an hour or so. It was a little before nine so we had three hours and change. Piece of cake.
“They’re going to be waiting for us,” Skeet said.
I nodded. “They’ll have a roadblock somewhere this side of the city limits.” I pointed at the map. “Probably here at the bottom of the hill. I’ll be in front in the Trekker and you’ll be behind me with the truck’s blast shields down.”
“You think they’ll open fire on us?”
“What do you think?” I asked.
The skinny yellow robot that now held Floyd’s brainbox would leave first. He was already in the cab behind the wheel of a truck and trailer we’d bought from Doogal. I gave him a friendly wave and he ignored me. Floyd didn’t like his new body because it didn’t have battle armour.
Next out was the other robot that was now wearing Floyd’s old body. He was squeezed behind the wheel of the second of Doogal’s trucks. I didn’t wave him off – I didn’t feel I knew him well enough. And I didn’t want to get too attached to him – though I’d never tell Floyd that.
Then it was just me and Skeet and the third truck. Or rather, the first truck. Our original one. It had a trailer attached to it again but the whiskey wasn’t in it.
“Ready to roll?” I asked.
“Ten-four,” Skeet said. He climbed up into the cab of the truck. He looked at home behind the wheel.
I climbed into the Trekker. We left Doogal’s yard and headed out, back towards the highway – and our destiny.
“What’s the plan?” Skeet asked.
“We head for the city and hope for the best,” I said.
It was more like a blockade than a roadblock. The vehicles were three-deep right across the highway and a hundred yards into the scrubland on either side. Crawford’s Skylark sat on the asphalt behind the blockade and next to it was a glossy black gunship with big cannons on either side and a massive machine-gun slung underneath. Quite the welcoming committee.
We’d stopped the truck and the Trekker on the brow of a hill and were looking down at the obstacle.
“No way around,” Skeet said.
“Only way is through them,” I agreed.
Skeet took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
“I want to wait until the news cameras arrive,” I said.
“You want your death to be broadcast live?”
“I don’t plan on dying,” I said. “Having the cameras here will discourage the police from doing anything unconstitutional.”
“Do you think the news crews will show up?” Skeet asked.
“I told them to be here by ten,” I said.
“Of course you did.”
Right on cue a truck from the New Grimsby news network trundled down the highway from the city. Two big camera drones hovered above and behind it, filming their approach. The drones were Bobby-Ray’s. The news truck wasn’t the only vehicle coming out from the city.
“Did you send for an audience too?” Skeet asked.
“No. I guess those are folks who have been following Bobby-Ray’s show,” I said.
The presence of the news crew and the other vehicles had the desired effect. The police officers stowed their weapons and pulled their vehicles back from the front line. They took up positions as observers – they would only intervene if something illegal took place.
In the absence of police leadership, Clem Crawford was going to have to direct the action. And in theory at least, he could safely decide to do nothing. All he had to do was sit there and wait. As long as I didn’t reach his depot in the next two hours, he’d won. If anything was going to happen this morning, it was up to me to make the first move.
“Time to move in,” I said.
“If Crawford’s men open fire, do you think the police will intervene?” Skeet asked.
“Reluctantly,” I said. “And slowly.”
“If that gunship opens fire, the truck will disappear in a fireball,” Skeet said. “If I used that cannon you’ve got back there, I could probably knock it out of the sky.”
Floyd’s cannon was locked in the Trekker’s trunk and I intended that it should stay there. “We’re not shooting down the gunship,” I said.
“It’s going to be a very short fight,” Skeet said.
Everyone on the roadblock and the crowd that had built up on either side of the road behind it were all waiting for something to happen. So was I. I was holding off making a move in the hope that we’d hear from Harmony. I had a weird feeling of déjà vu. Probably because I had been here before. Last time she’d been late. Very late. And I had to admit that this time there was a very good chance that she wouldn’t show at all.
“It’s the final day of Quincy and Floyd’s cross-country challenge and you join us live here at the city limits where there’s currently a stand-off between the truckers and the authorities. A hush has descended as everyone waits to see who will make the next move.”
Bobby-Ray was broadcasting a bird’s-eye view of the scene from one of his drones. It felt weird being at the centre of an unfolding news story with live pictures and commentary. If there was going to be a next move, it was up to us to make it. Luckily I’d included one in the plan.
“Something’s happening,” Bobby-Ray said. “There’s another vehicle moving in at speed. Look closely at your screens, folks. Is that what I think it is?”
The sound of the truck’s air horn got people’s attention. Everyone turned. A truck and trailer was driving down the highway from the direction of the city. It was identical to the one Floyd and I had driven across the country and so, of course, everyone thought it was us. The robot driving the truck didn’t look like Floyd – that would have been too much to ask.
“Is that the skinny yeller feller?” Skeet asked.
“Yep,” I said. “Let’s move out.”
“What if they open fire on both trucks?” Skeet asked.
“The news crews would probably wet themselves with excitement,” I said.
“But seriously,” Skeet said, “what
is the plan?”
“I was thinking that you would race down the hill in our truck towards the front of the barricade and the other one would accelerate towards the back of it,” I said. “When everyone scatters, we’ll break through and head for the city. As long as the two trucks don’t hit each other.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Skeet said.
“Maybe,” I said. “Head down there and stop when you get within a hundred yards of the barricade.”
“Where will you be?” he asked.
“Behind you.”
As the two trucks moved in on them, those manning the middle of the barricade were fidgeting uncomfortably. They were trapped between big rigs moving at speed. Nervous glances as heads whipped to look behind and then back to the front. A few abandoned their posts and scattered.
The two trucks slowed to a halt. It looked like a stand-off between the two rigs with the roadblock between them.
“What now?” Skeet asked.
“Tradition dictates that they should open a channel of communication,” I said. “They can’t blow us up until they’ve made at least some attempt to negotiate.”
“That’s reassuring,” Skeet said. “What’s the best-case scenario?”
We both knew what the worst case was. Boom!
“They’ll tell us we can drive into the city unimpeded,” I said. “If we unhitch the trailer and leave it here.”
Skeet nodded. “That’s what I’d do if I was them.”
Floyd’s voice came over the dashboard speaker. “The gunship just powered up its engines,” he said.
“They’re just trying to get our attention,” I said.
“Let’s just hope no one gets trigger-happy,” Skeet said.
“Yeah,” I said. Floyd and I had both seen how one shot could spark off a major gun battle. I wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happening. There were too many innocent bystanders down there. I hoped Crawford and the New Grimsby police department would take that into consideration too.
The dashboard screen signalled that a message was incoming. Crawford. The header said he wanted us to talk on an encrypted channel so I flipped communication onto an open public one so Bobby-Ray and the news crews could listen in too. Crawford’s face filled the screen.
Road Rage Page 32