Freelancers: Falcon & Phoenix

by Thackston, Anthony

  “You tackled the guy through a five-story window.”

  “Yeah, well. It happens.” Falcon doesn’t look at her.

  She holds her cuffed arm up, forcing his to follow. “That doesn’t just happen. I probably just lost my amnesty here. I want to know why.”

  Falcon glares at her. “I had a sister. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Phoenix looks at him, curious to know the rest but thinks better of asking. Whatever happened, like the Emperor said ‘It’s in the past’. Right now the most important thing they can do is get as far away from the Capital City as they can. With so few vehicles and people in the road, Phoenix floors the accelerator.

  Two guards stand watch at the rear city gate. “Maybe they haven’t heard yet,” Phoenix says as she slows the car. “Keep your head down.” She stops the next to one of the guards and smiles. Recognizing her immediately, the guard returns the expression and waves her through.

  Falcon raises his head and turns around to look out the back window. “Political amnesty, huh?”

  “Not anymore, I’m sure.”

  “At least it came in handy one more time.” Falcon watches as the guard goes into the guard shack and picks up a phone. Almost immediately, the guard starts waving his arms, wildly. The other guard raises his gun and aims it at the little car. “You were right.”

  “I’ve been right about a lot. What are you talking about?”

  “Your amnesty. I think you did lose it.”

  Phoenix checks the mirror and sees both guards aiming their guns. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  Falcon continues watching the guards. The speed of the car isn’t creating enough distance fast enough. He turns to Phoenix. “Give me your gun.”

  “You’re not getting my gun again.”

  Falcon looks back at the guards. Just before they fire, a truck with massive wheels bursts through a building near the city gate. Splinters and chunks of debris fly off in all directions. The guards run for cover. Their hands cover their heads as pieces of the building rain from the sky. The truck’s tires hit the ground and it bounces, slightly. Once on solid ground, the monster tires turn in the direction of the road. Straight for Falcon and Phoenix.

  Falcon’s eyes go wide. He recognizes the truck. “Daken.” He turns to Phoenix. “Can’t this thing go faster?”

  6

  Phoenix looks in her mirror and sees the giant vehicle skid on the road behind them. “What is that?”

  “It’s a monster truck—floor it!” Falcon looks ahead for anything that might be useful. Short of a tank or vehicle of similar size, there is nothing.

  “It is floored!” Phoenix looks back in her rearview mirror. The only thing she can see is the fast spinning tread of one of the tires on the giant pursuit vehicle. “The tires are bigger than this car,” she mutters.

  Daken maneuvers the truck to come up along Falcon’s side of the little car. Falcon notices the dimming sunlight out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see one of the monster wheels only feet from the window. The truck swerves closer to them. Phoenix whips left to avoid an impact.

  “This thing won’t make it off road,” Falcon says.

  “It won’t make it under those tires, either,” Phoenix tells him. She tries to pull ahead but the small engine is putting out as much power as it can. If Daken wanted to, he could easily roll right over them.

  The truck swerves at them again, and again Phoenix cuts the little car to the left. Its nearly worthless tires roll just to the edge of the road.

  “He’s playing with us.” Falcon grits his teeth. “Give me your gun.”

  “I told you—”

  “You want him off our backs?”

  Phoenix watches the massive black tires. It’s all she can see in the passenger side window. She shifts in her seat to better reach the gun in her holster. Moving her arm down brings Falcon’s arm with it and she draws her gun to hand it to him.

  Falcon rolls down the tiny window and sticks his arm and head out. He points the gun up toward the driver’s side window of the massive truck. He can barely see Daken for their difference in height. Daken looks down and sneers at Falcon. He moves the truck closer to the small car, forcing Falcon back inside for fear of being crushed. As the monster tires move away, Falcon tries again. He aims the gun and takes a shot. The bullet hits the truck but not the driver. He fires again. Same effect. Changing tactics, he aims at the nearest tire and pulls the trigger. The bullet just bounces off.

  “He’s got steel walls,” he tells Phoenix.

  Daken slows to let the little car ahead of him. Falcon follows the truck as it maneuvers behind them. “We’re better off getting out and running.”

  “Through that?” Phoenix points ahead at the road. It’s littered with old world debris. Fallen billboards, furniture, electrical poles and burned out vehicles sit on the sides and middle of the road.

  “Why doesn’t the Emperor clean this up?” Falcon asks.

  “Who cares!” Phoenix navigates what seems like a maze of junk. She cuts the car right and left, having to make sharp turns to get through. Every second away from a straight shot brings Daken’s monster truck that much closer to them.

  Phoenix looks over her shoulder and sees the giant truck being slowed down by the debris. It’s a small comfort that the truck is rolling over everything in its path. But at least it gives them some window of breathing room. “If this thing doesn’t go faster, that’s gonna be us, the second we get out of this debris field.”

  Falcon looks in his side mirror to see the truck come down on the shell of a car. The rusted out body is crushed under the weight of the monster tires. He turns around to the back seat, desperately looking for something that will give them an upper hand. A small cloth loop sticking out of the top of the back rest grabs his attention. Falcon reaches for it with his right hand, pulling his cuffed arm toward him. The move pulls Phoenix’s arm toward him as well, forcing her to turn to the right, nearly colliding with the destroyed remains of an eighteen wheeler. She quickly recovers, narrowly avoiding the crash. Falcon grabs the loop and pulls it. The back rest folds forward, revealing a long cylinder.

  “Falcon.” Phoenix points forward with her right arm, forcing him toward the dashboard. He turns to see the debris clearing. She turns to face him. “We’re out of time.”

  Falcon quickly grabs the cylinder. He takes a second to look it over.

  “Is that a bazooka?” Phoenix asks.

  “Yeah.” He puts the weapon on his shoulder, forcing Phoenix’s arm up as well. “Steady it.”

  With three hands on the weapon, Falcon aims it at the quickly gaining truck.

  Daken looks down, through the little car’s back windshield. He slams on his brakes, distancing himself from his prey.

  Falcon hits the trigger button. The front windshield is blown out at the rear blast of the weapon. The back windshield is blown out at the shell of the weapon. The projectile flies straight for Daken’s vehicle and, although it’s too low to the ground to hit the truck directly, it’s not worth taking the risk. Daken jumps out of the truck as far as he can. He hits the ground and rolls as the bazooka shell just taps a part of the right rear tire. It explodes, taking the truck with it. Daken continues rolling as far as he can while the monster truck rises off the road.

  Falcon and Phoenix watch the large vehicle flip over, landing upside down in a fiery heap. They don’t even bother to try and see Daken as Phoenix returns her attention to the road and keeps the little car floored. Falcon drops the bazooka onto the back seat. That was the only shot, anyway.

  “We’re gonna need a better car,” she says.

  “Yeah. I’m not going through that again.” Falcon turns back around in his seat.

  “I know of an outpost not far from here.”

  “I know it, too. Probably better if we just skip it.”

  “We’re not making it out west in this thing. Besides, you see all that?” She motions toward the horizon out of her window. Dark storm clou
ds fill they sky as far as they can see. “I’m not driving this through that.”

  Falcon hands her back the gun. “You might change your mind about that after the outpost.”

  “People don't like you, there, either?”

  “Just the one.”

  7

  Two steel barrels are all that make up the entrance to the Freelancer Outpost. Flames dance inside the rusted drums as some people stand around them for warmth from the cool wind moving in with the storm.

  The little car slowly creeps between the barrels. Those standing around them snicker as it passes.

  “No, this isn’t embarrassing. Not at all.” Falcon smiles half-heartedly through the window.

  “It got us here. That’s all that matters,” Phoenix tells him.

  They pass by a wooden sign that says [HONOR THE DEAL]. “The rule to live by,” Falcon says.

  A few buildings make up the small outpost. Three of them are selling gear and weapons. Two more are a fuel station and a bar/hotel. The rest are remnants of old businesses and homes. All of them boarded up except for those whose only remains are the concrete foundations. The place still serves the same purpose it did in the old world—a little stop off to grab a quick rest between long distance travels.

  Phoenix stops the car in front of one of the shops. A plastic, sun-faded sign sits on the chain link fence. The only words still recognizable are [FINE AUTOS]. Falcon and Phoenix open their doors and both try to get out but the handcuffs stop them. Each turns to the other, expecting to be followed out on their side. Phoenix jerks her arm and Falcon relents. He crawls through the short car and exits out of the driver’s side.

  Two cars rest on the other side of the fence. One is smaller and looks like it could be fast. The other is bigger and probably carries more fuel.

  “One for me, one for you?”

  Phoenix turns to him. Her eyes say, ‘Don’t you dare.’

  “Then I would suggest the faster one,” Falcon says. “Just in case we run into more problems.”

  Phoenix drags him toward the fence. She looks at the large man standing between the two vehicles, arms folded across his chest. “Hey. I need a car. Where’s the Dealer?”

  The guard points toward the bar. Phoenix looks back at the building. Just as on the street in the Capital City, people mill around outside of the bar/hotel. Some are more drunk than others. A woman and a man trade hard punches in one another’s stomachs like some kind of game.

  “Maybe we should just wait here,” Falcon says. “I’m sure the Dealer will be back, soon.”

  “He’s playing the Trader’s Game,” the guard tells them.

  “So he’s gonna be a while,” Falcon says, dejected.

  “Let’s go.” Phoenix steps forward and tugs on the cuffs. Falcon digs in his heels. “What’s wrong with you? Who’s in there?”

  “Better you don’t know.” He steps in closer to her. “Let’s just jump the fence. Jump this guy. And jump the car.”

  Phoenix looks at the guard. He’s twice the size of Big Wang. And not just because of his oversized stomach.

  “Are you trying to get me banned from this place, too?” She looks back at Falcon. The fear in his eyes is genuine. And if he hadn’t already put her through so much in one day, she might be tempted to feel sympathetic toward whatever his plight was and wait for the Dealer to come to her. But he has put her through so much and she wants to get on the road as fast as she can. The quicker they’re in and out, the quicker they can get ahead of the storm. “We don’t have time for this.” She jerks at the cuffs, pulling Falcon forward.

  “Fine…Maybe she’s forgotten.” He steps forward to keep pace.

  The bar is nearly full of people conversing and carrying on. Some tell stories of their lives in the old world. Others tell harrowing stories about contract pursuits. Falcon overhears those, specifically. He rolls his eyes. Half of them are embellishing the events to make them sound more harrowing than they were. Others tell stories that are less exciting than the tellers remember them. Some of the tables have people playing various games of skill and chance, with weapons on the table as wagering items. And some people are just making deals or trading goods with one another.

  Falcon does his best to keep his head down. His eyes dart around the room. There are few people in here that he would call friend. Many of them are outright enemies of some sort. But his biggest concern is on the person he can’t see. Fortunately she doesn’t seem to be around and no one else appears to recognize him…yet.

  “There he is.” Phoenix pulls Falcon to a table at the back of the room. Five chairs circle the table but only four people sit around it. And only one of them matters to Phoenix. The man in the wide-brimmed hat. The Dealer.

  Phoenix steps around to the empty chair. “I need a car.”

  The Dealer doesn’t look up as he shuffles a dirty deck of playing cards. “What’s wrong with the little box you drove in here? Seems like the perfect size for you.”

  The others at the table laugh.

  “It’s fine. I just need more room for my hat.” Phoenix takes a jab at the Dealer. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

  The front of the man’s hat moves slowly up to reveal the Dealer’s shark-like features. He looks at Phoenix then at Falcon. A glint forms in his eyes and he leans back in his chair.

  “You gonna sell me one or not?” Phoenix asks.

  “That depends. You got something I want?”

  “I’ve got currency.”

  “So do I.” He pulls out three large stacks of paper money and sets them on the table. “Mine’s in all the colors, too.”

  Phoenix looks down at the bricks of money. It’s more than she’s accustomed to seeing. Her eyes move back up to the Dealer’s. “You need a job done? I’ve got skills that—”

  “Lacy! Get your fine ass over here, girl.” The Dealer reaches a hand out and a woman walks over to him. She wears high heels and a pair of tight denim cut-offs. Her top is a loose fitting button-up shirt. The top three buttons are gone. The Dealer pulls her into his lap. “This is Lacy. She’s got skills, too. Are your skills as good as hers? Maybe we can find out, later.”

  Phoenix reaches down for her gun at the insult.

  “Go on and get us a room. Fix it up real pretty, for me,” the Dealer says, pushing Lacy back to her feet. He smacks her on the rear as she walks away. “Skills? Hell, everyone in this fine outpost has skills.” He looks back at Phoenix. “But I’ll tell you what. You do have something I want. And it ain’t currency and it ain’t skills.” His eyes slowly move to Falcon.

  “This guy?” Phoenix tries to play off Falcon’s importance. “This guy’s not worth a vehicle.”

  “Then you won’t mind trading him for one. Seeing as how I’d be getting the raw end of that deal.”

  Phoenix and the Dealer stare holes through one another. He knows who Falcon is and he knows she needs a car. She knows he’s not going to give her a car without having to give up her prisoner. She shifts her gaze to Falcon. “Is there anyone who isn’t after you?”

  Falcon wishes he had a good answer. But all he manages is a tired exhale.

  “I’ll tell you what.” The Dealer tosses two cards face down toward the empty chair. He places two more in front of himself. “You play me at this game and see what’s what. If you win, you get whatever car you want and you get to keep your contract. If I win, I get your contract and you go upstairs and let Lacy show you the ropes. Literally. I’ll even give you a crutch.” He points at Falcon. “Seeing as how you two are joined at the chain, he can help you if you need it. Though I gotta say, ‘ol Falcon’s never been much for the games of chance.”

  “You’re telling me.” Phoenix looks at her prisoner. “How do you play?” She sits down in the empty chair.

  “Simple math. Closest to twenty-one wins. You get twenty-one. You win. Face cards and aces are worth eleven. Everything else is its own value. These are pretty high stakes so we’ll play three of five.” The Dealer holds out his hand. “We g
ot a deal?”

  Phoenix looks at the offered hand then down at the cards lying face down in front of her. She takes the Dealer’s hand and they shake on it.

  8

  The Dealer looks under his cards. Phoenix follows along. She sees a total of fifteen. He flips his cards over, revealing thirteen.

  “Seeing as you got the partner, you won’t mind if I go first.” The Dealer takes one card from the top of the deck. It’s a five. “Think I’ll stay.”

  Phoenix flips her cards, revealing a thirteen. She takes a card from the deck. It’s a seven.

  “Yes,” Falcon says.

  “Beginner’s luck.” The Dealer sweeps his cards to the side. Phoenix does the same. Two more are dealt for him and two for her. They both look under their cards before flipping them over.

  The Dealer takes one card. Then another. Twenty.

  “You either match him or get twenty-one,” Falcon says as he stares at the twelve in front of Phoenix. She draws a card from the deck. Three. She draws another. Seven. Bust. The Dealer smiles as he slides his cards to the side.

  “Why don’t you deal this hand?” The Dealer lays his hands flat on the table. Phoenix takes two cards off the top and slides them to her opponent. She takes two and pulls them in front of herself.

  The Dealer looks at his cards and immediately flips them over. “Look at that.” He laughs as the Ace and Queen stare up at the ceiling. “That’s gonna be you and me, later.” He winks at Phoenix.

  A cold shudder goes down her spine.

  “Honor the deal,” Falcon says.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Phoenix tells him through her clenched jaw.

  “I wanted to steal the car, remember?”

  Phoenix flips her cards over, revealing nineteen. She pulls one more card. It’s a five.

  The Dealer leers at her as he slides two more cards her way. He looks at his and flips them over. Another twenty-one. “Sorry, girly. It just ain’t your…Day.” His speech slows as Phoenix flips her cards over. An ace and a King. Push. “Ok. Ok.” They both slide their cards to the side.