Tris leapt flat on her chest before the massive weapon discharged.
At least he let me finish. She pulled the Beretta from her hip. “The last thing he’s going to expect is for me to pop straight up.”
Tris crawled for a few feet while searching in vain for the nerve to risk presenting a target.
“Tris!” shouted Kevin.
Boom.
The sound seemed different. Not aimed at her. She shoved herself up with all the power she could force out of her arms. Compared to her body weight, her strength launched her off the ground. She landed on her feet and yanked the Beretta out of its holster. The sniper aimed at something to the left. At over a hundred yards’ range, the trajectory line created by her cyberware looked more like a rainbow than a bullet path. She raised her arm at a near forty-five-degree angle and fired four shots in rapid succession, each going off before the muzzle flash of the previous shot faded. Four copper-jacketed slugs spiraled through the air, inches apart. The sniper whirled, not trapped in slowed time. Tris threw her weight to the side.
Boom.
A large, pointed slug drilled toward her while her bullets dive-bombed the sniper.
Four slugs mushroomed into the distant figure’s chest, almost on top of each other. The incoming round tore a slice across her ribs, three inches under her right armpit. Tris hit the ground on her left side, clutching the wound. The sniper fell to his knees; nothing pierced, though it seemed the wind had been slammed out of him.
Ignoring the pain, Tris got up and ran. Searing pain melted to furious itching as the Nanites in her blood got to work on the cut. I’m alive. Fuck you. I’m not an android. I’m not going to die. She let go of the bloody rip and pumped her arms and legs in a sprint trying to put as much distance as she could between her body and a sniper’s bullet. The Beretta stayed in her hand only because putting it away at a full run was impossible. It couldn’t kill the sniper through the laminate composite armor. Hell, her AK wouldn’t even breach that stuff, though the slug would at least break ribs.
Kevin’s voice rang out in a brief yelp. Her heart skipped a beat, but it sounded more like he’d tripped than been shot.
She daydreamed about pumping fully automatic fire into the asshole trying to kill her, grinning with psychotic glee at the thought of inflicting so much pain on someone. Her long strides devoured the terrain, and she headed for a hill that led to the road.
Or so she thought.
At the top of the hill, more forest waited. Trees in every direction, and somewhere nearby came the rushing sound of water. Somehow, Kevin had found an entire forest southwest of Chicago.
Bang. Bang.
Tris screamed and hit the ground. Nothing struck close by, and she realized the rapport was too quiet to have been the sniper’s rifle. Fearing another shot any second, Tris clambered to her feet and surged forward, seeking low ground and cover. The thick woods masked the sun, or maybe she was too scared to find it. She darted in a random zigzag pattern around trees and shallow channels between mounds, hunched over in an effort to present a low profile.
One thought took over her mind―hide.
40
Hunting the Hunter
“Tris!” screamed Kevin.
He leapt off the side of the road into the woods, racing toward the crack of a heavy rifle firing. Arms raised to deflect branches and vines, he ran toward his best guess of where someone crashed through the underbrush. The downward angle of the hill flattened out for about twenty yards before he struggled up a sharp incline for a couple feet before it leveled off again.
Kevin stumbled on loose dirt at the top of the hill, grabbing a tree to keep from falling as a vine running over the ground tangled his feet. A glint caught his eye; he looked up at a slim black-clad figure in an Enclave body suit and full helmet less than fifty yards ahead of him, pointing a massive rifle at his face.
A short burst of gunfire would’ve wet his pants if he hadn’t already dealt with that. The sniper’s body blurred, huge rifle going from pointed at him to ninety degrees left in an instant. Fire belched from the muzzle break. A wicked slap rang out, echoing in the forest, and the sniper fell to his knees, sagging forward as if he couldn’t breathe. Copper spots appeared on his chest―bullets.
Kevin surged ahead, running at him.
When the rifle whipped up, he let off a yelp and dove behind a tree. He crouched against the base of a trunk wide enough to hide him, and probably stop a bullet. Once footsteps crunched, jogging away, he risked a peek. The black-clad figure rushed off to his relative northwest, though for all he knew at that moment it could’ve been south. Kevin let the sniper get far enough away where he hoped he could remain undetected, and slipped out from cover.
One hand on his .45, he hurried along in a gait not quite running and not quite stalking. The sniper took a sudden left. A splash of white drew his attention to Tris, so far away she appeared only inches tall. She’d emerged at the top of a hill, and spun around, clearly lost and disoriented.
The sniper swiveled and raised his rifle at her.
Kevin tore the .45 from his hip and squeezed off two quick shots. The thin man spun and leapt to the right, diving out of sight into the trees. Kevin glanced in the direction he’d seen Tris, but the thick mass of green branches had engulfed her. Gun up, he rushed ahead to where the sniper had gone down.
I think I hit him at least once.
He hesitated by the tree where the man had paused to aim at Tris. After a two-second breath, he jumped around and aimed at… open ground.
Fuck.
Kevin froze, looking for the gun about to kill him moving only his eyes. Finding nothing, he crouched behind the nearest tree and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Pathetic,” said a female voice. “You’re not even worth a bullet.”
He jumped back as half the tree he hid behind shimmered and went from bark texture to flat black. At this range, the sniper seemed no taller than Tris. She lacked a rifle, but pointed both fists at him. Sparks crackled over her forearms as a rapid series of spitball like noises broke the silence.
Sharp points stabbed all over his chest and face. Lightning exploded across his vision as every nerve fiber in his body seemed to ignite at once. The next thing he knew, he lay flat on his back, unable to move or breathe.
The sniper took a step to the right and dug the long rifle out of a pile of leaves. Kevin moaned. She sighed and poked a finger into her left forearm. Another wave of crackling pain danced over his chest.
Blue sky became purple.
Blackness.
41
With Friends Like These
Tris leapt over a series of head-sized stones spanning a wide, but shallow creek. She slipped in the mud on the far bank, windmilling her arms to keep balance while careening around a rapid turn. After another few minutes of running and weaving among trees, she couldn’t bear the thought of going another inch. Her gait came to a loping halt. She spun in a quick circle, seeing nothing but forest. Panic refused to release its grip on her brain, and she stumbled ahead for another thirty or forty yards before collapsing on all fours.
Her lungs burned; she lost track of how long she’d been running, but her body refused to go on. The irony of it bubbled up in a laugh, which she clamped a hand over her mouth to arrest. An android wouldn’t get tired. She crawled a few feet more and took cover in a spot where three trees sprouted from the ground at almost the same place. Not wanting to risk her stark white hair giving her away, she rolled flat on her back and tried to gasp for air while making as little noise as possible.
Pain along her side had faded to a mild itch. She hid her face in the crook of her right elbow, focusing on getting her breathing under control. Eventually, she went from ‘someone shoot me’ to merely exhausted. Aside from the chirping of a few birds, the woods remained deathly quiet. Tris didn’t dare move. Kevin had stopped shouting, though the sniper had also ceased firing. She hadn’t heard a gunshot in enough of a while to entertain the though
t she may have gotten clear.
No. I don’t trust it. Stay down.
A snapping twig made her jaw clench tight. She kept still until indistinct furry figures emerged from the trees. Tris sat up with superhuman speed, Beretta raised at a stocky, dark-haired man wearing a tunic and shoes made from what she guessed was bear fur. A thinner man of fairer complexion, with light brown hair stood a little behind and to his right. Both carried machetes and stared at her as though she’d make a fine dinner or wife.
Her finger tensed on the trigger, but she hesitated. A gunshot would give her away. “Go away,” she whispered.
“Jeeble, Marvin, and Joseph,” said the stocky man, hand over his chest. “Ya dun scared the beshibbits outta me.”
“Easy, Miss.” The thin one raised a hand. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Tris squinted. “Like I’ve never heard that before…”
“Serious. You lookin’ in a bad way.” The larger man smiled a half-toothless grin at her. “You need help or anythin’?”
“Where am I?” She kept the Beretta up.
“’Bout a mile an’ a half… maybe two miles from the stone place.” The thin man pointed behind him. “You don’t wanna go there though. Bad, bad, bad.”
“Yeah.” The heavier man nodded. “Stone place full’a stupid dead. They ain’t know they dead, so they keep on livin’.”
She tried to remember the road Kevin had been on. “How do I get to… Street 107?”
Both men shrugged.
“There’s a big lake right next to it.”
“Oh.” The big man pointed a little to his left. “Head that way. South.”
“Hey, D… if’n she’s got a gun… what’s she runnin’ from?” The thin one squinted.
“Aw shit.” The other man pointed. “Bigger gun.”
Both men hit the dirt.
Tris didn’t bother looking and took off at a full sprint an instant before a rifle shot rang out. Dammit. Weary muscles protested after only a few seconds of running. She navigated a steep but short downhill, fell into a somersault that bounced her right back onto her feet, and kept following a tunnel-like section of trees with a heavy canopy for about sixty yards. A spray of red flashed in front of her seconds before she heard the shot.
Boom.
The taste of dirt filled her mouth. Her brain processed the flavor and texture of soil before the pain in her back registered. An attempt to breathe filled her mouth with the metallic taste of blood. She dragged herself forward a few inches before her body quit, and her cheek hit the ground. A dull throbbing ache accompanied the sensation of cold air entering her body from a hole that shouldn’t be there. The bullet had passed clean through her chest, though by some miracle missed her heart. Short-lived relief died as the horrible internal itch of Nanites swarming around her left lung triggered a scream in her mind.
Leaves crunched behind and left, growing louder.
She tried to gasp ‘please don’t’ but only spat out a bubble of blood.
Black boots and the tip of a rifle moved into her vision. “Damn, you’re actually a lot prettier than I thought you’d be. Shame.”
Tris coughed and rolled onto her back, staring up at a slender figure standing over her. A smooth black helmet covered the head, gleaming with the reflection of sky and trees. Scuff marks on the chest hinted at where 9mm rounds had failed to penetrate. “W-why? Please… don’t. It’s…”
An electronic chirp emanated from the sniper’s general vicinity, and the helmet disassembled itself into several dozen segments―bands and panels that disappeared behind her head into the armor’s back plate, revealing a jet-haired woman likely in her early twenties. She had the same paper-white skin as Tris, but her amber eyes glittered with annoyance.
“You don’t have to…” Tris clutched her hands to her chest, an inch below her left breast where the bullet had exited. Pins and needles inside grew maddening. She screamed, forcing blood to ooze between her clenched teeth. “Data is fake.”
“I’m not here to ask questions.” The woman squatted and laid the rifle on the ground. “It’s an awful waste of ovaries, but I’ve got to take your head back to the Enclave.”
“No… there’s no data in my head. It’s bullshit.” Tris coughed. “It was music. A band called ‘The Cure.’ Nathan’s a sadistic bastard. I have nothing that’s a threat to them.”
The woman gazed into the trees. “I can’t stand being out here in the goddamned sticks. The sooner I finish my job, the sooner I can get back to civilization.”
Tingling gave way to burning. Tris grew dizzy trying to breathe with one collapsed lung. Red foam slid down her chin. She propped herself up on her elbows, but between choking on her own blood and having run her muscles to jelly, her body refused to move.
“Can you maybe act a little less pathetic? This isn’t exactly easy for me either.”
“How can you want to go back there? It’s not as bad as they say it is out here.” Tris fought for a few rapid breaths. “They need to open the doors. Why would you want to be told who to marry?”
The sniper shrugged, not quite looking at Tris. “I’d rather have healthy children than pick some guy I fall in love with now only to have that fade to disinterest or resentment later. The way we do it is better. Neither of us goes into it with any expectation beyond propagating. Love? That’s what affairs are for.”
“You…” Tris cringed as electric tingles wrapped around her lung, as if fingers of lightning squeezed it. Tears leaked out of her eyes. “Oh, God, it hurts so much.” She gasped. “Do I know you?”
“We were in fifth through tenth grade together. You sat at the desk to my right.” The sniper stared at the ground. “Your nanites are getting close to finished. I better get this over with before you get up and start running again.”
“Zara?” Friends was a bit of a stretch, but she remembered trading text messages during class with her. They’d both have gotten in trouble, but somehow never managed to get caught. As if the Enclave couldn’t stand people having friends… or emotions. Tris’s arms gave out, and she fell flat on her back amid the damp leaves. That’s gotta be Nathan… made her come after me. “People out here aren’t hostile to technology. Think of all the good the Enclave could do for the world. It’s the seed of civilization. They should be spreading it, not keeping themselves shut off. They’re misguided. If the doors stay shut, they’re dooming humanity.”
“We’re safe inside. I… I just do what they tell me to do.” Zara grabbed at her right hip and drew a fourteen-inch blade from a thigh sheath. “Sorry, Tris. This philosophical stuff is way over my pay grade.”
She grasped a handful of Tris’s hair and lifted her head to expose her throat.
“Don’t.” Tris shut her eyes.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A noise like a punted goose came from Zara, and she collapsed.
Leaves crunched. Tris forced her head up. Kevin stormed over, .45 pointed at the sniper’s inert body.
She’d never seen him looking that infuriated. She held her side and whined.
“Guess I’m over feelin’ bad about shooting women.” Kevin took a knee at her side. “Tris… Shit… are you okay?”
“I…” She gasped, swallowed blood, and managed a weak smile. “Ow. Looks worse than it feels.” She coughed. “No. I lied.”
Kevin glanced at the inert sniper. “Feels like I should say something here… You know, like in one of your ‘historical documentaries.’”
Tris reached a hand up. He took it in his left, keeping the .45 pointed at Zara.
“It hurts so much… I’m alive.”
At the sight of a tear on his cheek, she tried to sit up and hug him. He held her down. “Wait. You’re in no shape to move yet.”
“Okay.” Tris closed her eyes, listening to her racing heart. “I’m not gonna die, but I could eat a whole dust-hopper right now.”
42
Second Chances
Kevin leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Guess what. You’re not an android.”
“Yeah.” She wheezed. “I figured that out while pissing.”
Zara moaned.
Kevin stood, and shot her again. The slug hit armor between her shoulder blades with a loud slap that echoed back over the gunshot and then bounced off the trees. “Son of a bitch.”
He leapt up, took a step, and kicked her over on her back, pointing the gun at her unarmored face.
“Stop!” Tris’s attempt to yell sounded feeble. “Kevin…”
“Sorry, Tris. You’re too damn nice.”
“I went to grade school with her. Please don’t make me watch.”
“So close your eyes.”
“Kevin…” She whined.
He lowered his arm―and shot Zara in the chest. A little blood seeped from the woman’s lips. “Damn armor.” Kevin plucked another one-inch metal cross with sharp barbs at each end from his arm. Where the two barbs met, a small antenna sat in a tiny pit of glowing violet gel. He flicked it into the weeds. “I hope that hurt. What I’d love to do is cover this bitch with those fucking lightning spider things and spend an afternoon hitting that button over and over again.”
Tris rolled onto her side. “If we kill her, we’re no better than they are.”
He sighted over the .45, trying to decide which of her eyes to put a slug in. “I never claimed to be.”
Rustling behind him made him look. Tris, grunting, wobbled upright. He whirled back to finish off the sniper, but Tris threw her weight onto his arm, causing another slug to hit the woman in the gut. Zara’s eyes bulged.
“Where was this high-minded idealism with Neon?” He shifted Tris to his left arm and helped support her weight.
“That piece of shit was a slaver. He deserved both bullets I put in his head.” Tris wheezed.
Kevin grumbled. “I thought I was the one that’s supposed to have issues hurting women.”
“She’s still young. She can have kids. Humanity can’t afford to lose her.”
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 36