Soul of the Reaper: A military Scifi Epic (The Last Reaper Book 11)

by J. N. Chaney

  Jacob started forward. “Yeah, sure. There is a solar farm on the north end of the pond. Not big but pretty good. Tom fixed that too. Tripled the output. Not a lot of people need stuff charged here, so you can probably use one of the plugs. Just don’t call anybody an outcast or thief. Don’t think too many are thieves, but even if they are, they don’t like to be called that. Might stab you or something. Unless you run. But you probably don’t run away much. I do. I run away all the time. Just a kid, you know.”

  “At least he can hold up his side of a conversation,” X-37 said. “He is a surprisingly good source of information, without your needing to ask a single question.”

  I didn’t respond to my LAI. Once upon a time, the kid’s rambling would have annoyed me. After the last few days, I found it relaxing. Go figure. And all I had to do to get a break was call someone a big word no one used.

  Except Elise’s father. He’d use the biggest words possible to sound more important than he was. I hadn’t thought of him since he disappeared back into the Union, mostly because I had no use for the man. Elise, on the other hand, would have been pure gold right now.

  Tom and Bug were like family, even if I’d already lost them. If Elise were here… things would be different.

  One old lady sat next to the charging stations, watching a two dimensional movie on a small screen. She warned me away with a look, then turned her back as far as she could without unplugging the device. I searched for a guard or technician and found each of the six panels unattended.

  “Looks like Tom’s work. Cleanest place in the camp,” I said.

  “Can’t believe you know Tom Singer. Can’t believe a lot of stuff about you, Hal. Aren’t you glad we came here? I’m glad those bullies with clubs and hammers turned us away. They don’t have nothin’ this good on their block. I snuck in there more than once, so I know,” Jacob said.

  “Do they turn everyone away?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but they really didn’t seem to like us, did they?”

  I plugged in the computer. “Their loss.”

  “Now what, Hal?”

  “You go home, get some sleep, and eat a good breakfast. I’ll contact you for the next move,” I said.

  “How are you going to do that? You don’t know where I live. And I told you not to come there because you’d scare everyone.”

  “Tell me the location, and I’ll figure it out. I’ll remember the directions.” I tapped the side of my head, which probably confused him no matter what he pretended to understand. He didn’t know what an LAI was even if he believed I was a Reaper and had heard of the tech we used.

  Somehow I doubted he would hang around long if he really thought I was the Butcher of Dreadmax or the Slayer of Yansden. I might have been one, but not the other. Briggs had mutated into the Slayer. Not me. I needed to stop thinking of all the people who got me from Union space to Maglan. My stomach dropped at the memory. I wished I could download my memories into a computer and carry them in a backpack.

  “You’re not listening,” Jacob said.

  “Sure I am, but tell me again.”

  “I said I should stand guard. You could sleep because you look like you need it and I’m not tired. No one will notice I’m gone. I leave all the time. Gone for days. That’s the way it is in the old town,” he said.

  “Posting a sentry would be useful, Reaper Cain.”

  I tapped my fingers together to acknowledge X, then gave Jacob a stern look. “Okay, but no chattering. No wandering off unless it is to go home. And wake me up if anyone comes close.”

  “Great! You can count on me.” He stood at attention, facing away from me, then crossed his arms to appear more intimidating.

  “Just relax, kid. Wake me in two hours,” I said.

  “I am on the job.” He saluted and stood tall.

  X-37 began the next stage of neural integration. At this point, I thought he was transferring historical data and minor algorithms. Maybe I could sell the computer in the morning.

  That’s me. An optimist.

  “Hal?” Jacob asked.

  I opened one eye. “Has it been two hours? Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Fifteen minutes, I think. But you better wake up now,” he said, fear in his voice.

  A crowd surrounded the little solar farm near the water. Three men stood over me, with plenty of reinforcements behind them. Beyond that delightful crew of tattooed thugs was a crowd of onlookers.

  “You’re not supposed to drain the charge at night. Got to let the sun do it’s work. What are you, stupid?” the leader asked. An arrow tattoo pointing down marked his left cheek.

  I flipped up the control display screen on the panel I was using. “Ninety eight percent charge with a point zero five drain per hour on this one. Looks like Tom Singer optimized the output. Leave me alone. I’m not hurting anyone. In the morning, I’ll be on my way.”

  He shook his head. “There’s a fine.”

  “I’m sure there is.” These guys were already boring me.

  X-37 activated a combat scan and posted data in my HUD as I stood.

  “I like your chest plate. Howard likes your boots. Mini wants your belt and your backpack,” Arrow Face said.

  “Mini is a woman,” X-37 said.

  “Thanks, X. Don’t care right now.”

  “What was that? You mocking me?” Arrow Face demanded as he stepped forward with his fists clenched.

  I punched him in the solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. He crumpled to the ground. Howard and Mini lunged forward but hesitated when they saw the look on my face. Neither of them backed down, but they started to circle. Looking for an opening.

  Arrow Face groaned, cursed, and fought his way to a standing position. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes and veins popped on his forehead and neck.

  “Scan completed,” X-37 said. “There are two persons of interest in the crowd, Roadkill, the girl you rescued at the bridge, and a dangerous individual in a hat. I am unable to see his face, but the way he stands marks him as someone ready for any level of violence.”

  “Thanks, X. Super helpful,” I said.

  “Sarcasm detected. I will take this to mean you have the situation well in hand,” X said.

  “I knew you were trouble,” Arrow Face said. “Where’d you get that armor? Steal it? We ain’t thieves in Old Town. Don’t want your kind.”

  “You should point out that he sure acts like a thief, or perhaps a robber,” X-37 said.

  “Not helpful, X,” I said, moving to maintain distance between my three circling enemies.

  “What the hell are you talking about!” Arrow Face said. “I’m fucking tired of you muttering under your breath. You crazy or just disrespecting my crew?”

  “All I want is a nap, a little power for my computer, and to leave,” I said. “Come at me, and I’ll defend myself.”

  “You started this,” Arrow Face said.

  “He did not!” Jacob shouted. “You’re a bully!”

  Arrow Face swung a backhand at the kid, but I was there first, catching him by the wrist and ripping his arm behind his back like I would pull it from his shoulder. He tried to spin out of the hold, but I had him. When he tried to kick backward, I dumped him on his face, stepped back, and kicked him in the ass hard enough to punt him halfway to his friends.

  The crowd oohed and aahed. Some cursed me. Others laughed and cheered.

  “They are entertained,” X-37 said.

  “Of course.” I focused on the other two and saw the rest of this gang stepping forward, most of them with weapons.

  Chains were popular. One had the axe from a fire truck. I let X-37 inventory the rest of their weapons as I focused on the first row of trouble makers.

  “Use your rifle, Reaper Cain. They won’t stop until you kill some or all of them,” X-37 said.

  “Too many people in the background. I can handle this crew,” I said.

  “You have a reasonable but not certain chance of success. I recommend le
thal force. Just don’t miss. Projectiles penetrating their bodies will be traveling much slower when they impact the crowd, and they should know better than to spectate in such a travesty of justice,” X-37 said.

  “You’re a blood thirsty LAI today,” I said, deciding that Howard was the next guy who needed my attention, just as soon as I kicked Arrow Face’s ass one more time.

  A man with a wide hat stepped from the crowd. I couldn’t see his eyes, but the staff he carried looked solid, and X was right, he carried it like he knew how to use it.

  Three of the local gang members backed away and vanished into the crowd.

  Arrow Face came at me.

  I delivered a spinning back kick to his chest, dropping him for good this time. He’d probably live, but I didn’t care. The guy was definitely done fighting tonight.

  The man with the hat turned in a slow circle, then pulled the staff apart to reveal a long handled sword and scabbard.

  More of the gang retreated. Arrow Face recovered only to stare wide-eyed at the man in the wide hat. He backed away, motioning for his crew to do the same, but they were already running.

  I studied the figure. A tingle of recognition went up my spine as I noticed glow strips braided into dark hair, body piercings, and tattoos. Plain, flowing clothing covered the extravagant body art—like this guy belonged to the Order of the Sword Saint.

  He turned, studied me like I was a dangerous animal, and said nothing.

  “Path? Godsdamnit it’s good to see you,” I said. “Thanks for helping a brother out.”

  “We are not brothers.” He turned toward the thinning crowd, putting his staff back together without looking at what he was doing. “You are a replica. I shouldn’t have intervened.”

  “Why did you, Path?”

  “They are bullies, but they didn’t deserve to die. Sometimes they fight off raiders,” he said.

  “Tom and Bug helped me.”

  He stopped but did not turn.

  “Help me get to my estate, then find Elise,” I said.

  He turned slowly. “She is beyond your reach. Threaten her, and I will kill you as I have many others of your brood.”

  “Fine. I didn’t want to do this.”

  He stepped back into a fighting stance, hands ready to draw the blade from the staff that concealed it.

  I removed a crumbling cigar and nursed it to life. The foul smoke made me want to take X-37’s advice and ditch the habit, but I stuck to my plan.

  Path didn’t move or speak.

  I spread my hands and blew smoke into the air. “Look at me, Path. Smoking a cigar. The clones didn’t smoke. And let’s be honest, I’m way better looking.”

  “My analysis shows he is neither impressed nor convinced,” X-37 said.

  Jacob coughed as my smoke cloud drifted over him. The lady watching her movie cursed me.

  “Tom and Bug will vouch for me,” I said as I dropped the cigar stub and crushed it with my foot.

  “Doubtful, but I will help you find them and decide what to do next,” he said.

  “Perfect! We’re getting the band back together.” I stuffed the computer into the backpack and started after him. “Nothing can stop us now!”

  The sword saint didn’t crack a smile.

  30

  Path led the way without explanation. We moved through the orchard, or what was left of it, as people drifted home like a crowd after a large concert. Only one figure, a young woman by her profile and grace of movement, went the wrong way through the crowd. She reminded me of a ship cat pretending an abundance of confidence but ready to dart away if necessary.

  “That young woman wishes to speak with you,” X-37 said.

  “Who is it X? I’m tired of these surprises. Do your job,” I said.

  “There are twenty-seven traits identifying her as Roadkill, the girl you liberated from the cannibal stronghold near the bridge between here and Maglan City,” X-37 said.

  “Can you make her go away?” I had been hoping it was Elise or Tatiana or anyone but another tagalong. Wishful thinking wasn’t a Reaper habit. I wondered where I had picked it up.

  “She is smaller than both of those women, who are not large,” X-37 said. “You will see her hair is still mostly shaved once she drops her hood in an effort to surprise you.”

  “Get over yourself, X. You’re shit at predicting human behavior,” I said.

  Roadkill dropped her hood, smiled broadly, and spread her hands and fingers. “Surprise! I made it.”

  “Good job,” I said. “Now take Jacob back to his parents. Maybe they have a place for you.”

  “Harsh,” she said. “I forgot you were a jerk.”

  Path looked over his shoulder. “You might be the Reaper. He always attracted desperados, mavericks, and strays.”

  “All it took to gain your confidence was a random kid with no sense?” I asked. “Glad you made it, Roadkill. Seriously. Now get out of here before this gets dangerous.”

  Path made no further comment. I didn’t think he had suspended his disbelief entirely. Or at all.

  “You need me. Who’s going to show you around? Him?” She pointed at Jacob.

  “I know where I’m going, Shavey Head! Go back to your tent,” he said.

  “Can we run for it while they argue?” I asked.

  “This option has less chance of success than you might assume.” X-37 said. “I recommend you retain a shred of dignity and face your problems rather than flee them.”

  “Not helpful, X.” I knew my LAI was right, but I had to ask.

  “I have a solution,” Path said.

  “Hit me with it.”

  “I will take us in a larger and larger circle until they grow tired,” Path said. “Then I will suggest we sleep. We can slip away and leave them in relative safety.”

  “Good call. Let’s do it,” I said, watching the juveniles argue like rival siblings.

  “She won’t leave,” Jacob complained.

  “I told both of you to leave,” I said. “So deal with it. Trust me, this won’t be the adventure you think.”

  “I’m staying with you,” Roadkill said.

  Jacob jumped between us. “Me too. She’s not even from here.”

  I silenced them by slashing the air with my hand and turning away. Breaking eye contact could end a conversation if done correctly.

  Path took us through every corner of the old city. None of the locals stared for long, and no one blocked our progress. The sword saint was the ultimate escort. I was glad to have him back, even if he didn’t believe who I was. Bug had come around. So had Tom.

  There was always a chance.

  By the time Path was done with his tour of the old city, I wanted to take a nap.

  “We rest now,” he said. “I will stand guard.”

  “I can do it,” Jacob and Roadkill blurted at the same time.

  “You will sleep now,” Path said. “No arguing.”

  Ten minutes later, the kid and the teenager had claimed spots on the opposite sides of our camp, curled up in blankets from Roadkill’s pack, and were snoring softly.

  “Do you need to sleep, clone?” Path asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “Your face is a mask of exhaustion.” He paused. “But you are stubborn.”

  “Guilty as charged, but I’m also charismatic and dependable.” I winked. “I can explain why I have my arm and my eye. Give me a chance, and maybe we can help Elise fight the Oroth and Scheid and whatever other bullshit is plaguing the universe.”

  Path’s response betrayed zero emotion. Enduring his gaze was like having a sword blade pressed to your throat, knowing the steel meant you no harm but would kill you instantly if its master commanded.

  “There is no need to explain,” he said. “You are a copy of a flawed but generous man.”

  “Generous? I’ve been accused of worse.”

  “The Halek Cain I knew never did anything for himself, other than submit to his vices, which were transitory things that meant no
thing.” He paused, never one to rush a statement. “He sought no power, no fame, and no wealth. When he claimed not to care, he instead put his life in danger to save strangers.”

  “Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect,” I said. “Listen, I have pieces to the puzzle you don’t—and we need to be on the same page.”

  “Then tell me what you know.”

  “Doctor David Scheid was a scientist on the Reaper project, but he got fired. He, and probably the Union even though they claimed to have exiled him, made clones to experiment on. The man you knew was the only one who survived all the shit they did to him.”

  “Other Reapers had cybernetic arms, eyes, and nerve-ware,” Path said. “You do not.”

  “Clones of other test subjects subjected to the cybernetic augmentations after they were tested on early volunteers,” I said. “Or regular subjects who were brought into the program only after the technology was proven on my clones.”

  Path flinched, his legendary self-control faltering. “Do you have evidence?”

  “I’m the evidence.”

  “You’re just another clone.”

  “No, Path, I’m the original,” I said, really believing it for the first time.

  Anger crept into his expression, something I had never seen before. “Do not talk to me—unless you wish to die. My eyes tell me you are what you are, a copy of Halek Cain. You mock his memory with such claims.”

  I motioned away from the sleeping children.

  He strode toward the distant walls without looking back.

  “Follow him, Reaper Cain.”

  “Not sure I want to, X.”

  “Please explain.”

  The answer was hard to formulate. I concentrated on my environment, knowing that I was distracted and likely to get killed the moment I let my guard down.

  “Reaper Cain, are you well?”

  “No, X. I’m not sure it’s worth it. My friends think I’m a monster. I’m running around in fucking circles. And my damn head hurts.”

  “You are a monster, Reaper Cain. Nothing has changed,” X-37 said. “Fatigue and dehydration are contributing to your physical misery and moodiness.”

  “I’m not moody.”