Danger's Race

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Danger's Race Page 14

by Amanda Carlson


  Looked like things were going to escalate quickly from here.

  The man moved forward, raising the gun, positioning it at Walt’s temple. “We know you’re hiding them,” he said. “Admit it.”

  The other, aggressive man was bolstered by his pal. “Yeah, admit it,” he echoed. Then, without warning, he whipped his arm back and punched Walt in the stomach.

  The old man doubled over with a loud whoosh, wrapping his frail arms around his middle as he gasped for breath.

  Both men had their backs to me. I stood soundlessly, easing my HydroSol air gun out of its holster with my left hand, my right already positioned outward. A bullet from this would create an air bubble that would blow up the heart.

  Once Walt was standing mostly upright again, the contemplative guy said, “We don’t want to kill you, but we really need those two back. And that’s not even accounting for the craft sitting out by the dunes. What are you hiding from us, old man? I’m going to give you five seconds to answer before I put a hole—”

  “Me.” My voice was icy. “He’s hiding me.” My guns were leveled, one on each man, as I made my way out from behind the table.

  Both men reacted predictably, turning quickly, their arms swinging wide. I edged to the right, needing them positioned so that their backs were to the hatch. They obliged, moving their arms to follow me.

  “Who the hell are you?” the belligerent man shouted. “What have you done with our militia members?”

  “Your members are safe,” I assured him. “We didn’t take them. Our paths just happened to cross. But the way I see it, everything happens for a reason. Ever heard of karma?” A look of confusion passed over each man’s face.

  Very slowly, the calmer of the two swung his gun back toward Walt.

  He knew what I was willing to protect, and it wasn’t myself.

  I would’ve been nervous had I not known what was lurking behind him, opening the hatch as we spoke. This man could feasibly kill Walt before I could kill him, and he knew it. He thought he had the upper hand.

  He thought wrong.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I’ll kill him, then I’ll destroy everything in here. All the stuff you want,” the man threatened calmly. “Return our members to us, and no one has to die.” He could’ve ended with right now. But it was implied.

  When I encountered men who didn’t know me, most of the time they figured that because I was female, I was gullible, a pushover, or not gritty enough to make tough choices. I’d been known to play this angle up from time to time.

  This was one of those times.

  To make it seem more legitimate, I added a small tremor to my hands, allowing my weapons to shake. “Please don’t kill him,” I implored, cracking my voice at the end. “He’s too valuable. I’ll do anything.”

  The confident man took a bold step forward, his gun still trained on Walt. I could read in his face that all the other plausible ideas of who I was when I first drew my weapons were falling by the wayside as he took my new words and cowering demeanor and assimilated them into the situation.

  “Get down on your knees,” he ordered, testing me. Then he nodded to the other man. “Strap the old man up in a chair until we finish this. We’ll deal with him later.”

  I hesitated for a few seconds before complying. It was enough for him to take a step toward me, swinging his gun on me. “I said get on your knees.”

  Bringing my arms up into a surrender pose, I began to ease downward. “Okay, I’m going,” I said. “But you promised not to hurt him. You have to keep your—”

  “Quiet,” he snarled as he stormed toward me. “Drop your weapons.” This one was fond of violence. His mouth quirked in a smile at the prospect of my not acquiescing. He had me where he wanted me. I had submitted.

  I eased my guns onto the ground.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. When I didn’t answer, he stopped in front of me, swinging his fist toward my face, about to teach me a lesson.

  At the last possible moment, I grabbed hold of his wrist and stood in a rush, using the momentum to wrench his arm toward me, giving him a solid headbutt. As he recoiled, I kicked the gun from his other hand and spun him around, holding him secure with his forearm cocked behind his back, my Gem at his temple.

  I wished I could see his face as he realized what had been waiting behind him.

  He gasped audibly in the face of Case’s pulse gun, which was mere centimeters from his left eye. Case’s other weapon was trained on the militia man who stood, his mouth agape, in front of Walt.

  The guy I was holding immediately began to struggle. “You’re not going to want to do that.” I gripped his arm tighter. “First, I break this, and then it gets worse from there. How many in your militia?”

  “Fuck you,” he ground out. I wasn’t surprised he was refusing to cooperate. It was his pal we would get information from, not him.

  Case stalked toward the other guy, obviously having heard the entire interaction and coming to the same conclusion. “Sit,” he commanded the man. When he still stood there looking unsure, Case cracked the butt of his weapon across the top of his head.

  “Ow!” the guy whined, grabbing his head as he sat with a thump next to Walt.

  “We want information,” Case told both men, then addressed the guy in the chair. “And you’re the one who’s going to give it to us.”

  “The hell I am—” Case used his fist this time, crashing it into his jaw. The powerful blow sent the guy flying backward to sprawl on the ground. Case was over him a moment later, a large boot settled on his chest.

  “See that?” I told the guy. “If you don’t cooperate, you die, and your friend dies.” It was important to show force now, to ultimately get them to answer our questions.

  “You think I care?” he snarled. “It’s you two who are dying. And it’s going to be painful. We specialize in that around here.”

  Unsurprising. “I bet. You also specialize in beating women, don’t you? That’s why it was so easy for you to believe I was frail and useless. I bet it kills you to be restrained so easily by a female.” Predictably, he started to squirm, giving me no choice but to do as I’d threatened.

  I broke the bone cleanly, knowing where to apply the greatest amount of pressure.

  He screamed, one of his legs giving out beneath him. He was heavy, but I had him braced against my shoulder. Forcing him to stand, still holding on to the broken limb, I whispered, “I warned you what was going to happen. Apparently, you weren’t listening.”

  Across the room, Case ordered the other guy to confess. “How many in your militia?”

  Before the man could answer, a noise came from the back of the room.

  Knox stumbled out of the hatch, Daze trailing behind him. The kid had a cut on his cheek, a line of blood rolling down his face like an angry tear. There’d been a skirmish. I swore under my breath.

  “I’ll tell you,” Knox said, breathing heavily from his efforts. His hands were still secured behind him, but his clothes were ripped. Daze had tried to restrain him, which made me proud. “There are twenty-nine of us. Six are under the age of eighteen. These two”—he nodded at both men—“report to two others above them. If they go missing, there will be no negotiation. They will bomb you and be done with it.”

  “Thank you, Knox,” I said. “But we weren’t under the impression there would be any negotiation once it got to this point.” The guy I held whimpered in pain, because as I spoke, his body was jostled. “We’re committed now.”

  Knox appeared confused for a moment. Then he nodded, understanding that there was no going back for any of us. He’d chosen his side. He leaned his head toward Case’s captive. “That’s Tim, and he’ll want you dead no matter what happens.” He reluctantly glanced my way. He was fearful of the man I held, my Gem still locked at his temple. That told me all I needed to know. “That’s Curtis, and he will pretend to negotiate and then kill you at the first opportunity.”

  The guy in my arms stopped m
oaning. “He’s right. You better kill us, bitch. I’m coming for you the moment—”

  I struck him across the head with my Gem.

  He crumpled against me, and I slid him to the ground, stepping over his body, shaking my head. I glanced at Case, who still had his boot on the other man’s chest. “How do you want to work this?” I asked. Case appeared apprehensive for a moment. Almost as if he was trying to figure out what he thought I wanted to do, not what he would do.

  Finally, he answered, “We keep them alive until we assess the situation. Knox can provide us with a map of the town and who the key resistance players will be. There are at least six children, and they have to be considered.” He was correct on all counts.

  “It’s going to take both of us to take on the militia,” I said. “That means we have to leave Daze and Knox in charge of things here.”

  Case glanced between the two men. “We’ll need to ensure they’re tied securely.”

  Walt ambled forward. “I might have something to keep them docile while you’re away.”

  I peered at the old man as he made his way to a table, reaching to open a drawer underneath. He didn’t look any worse for the wear from his encounter. In fact, he appeared energized.

  He withdrew a bunch of beakers and jars filled with different-colored liquids, setting them on the counter. Then he held one up to the light and swirled it around. It had a blue tint to it. “I’ve been perfecting this for a long while now.” He looked pleased.

  “What does it do?” I came forward, squinting into the jar. “Are those teeth?”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “No, no. Those are shell fragments. The outer covering of crustaceans that inhabited the seas long ago. They help stabilize the chemical compounds.”

  I gazed closer, remembering Gia’s box in my pocket. I drew it out and lifted the lid, shaking the contents around. Walt peered into it as well. “Are these shells?”

  “Why, yes, they are,” he replied. “I have the tribe pick them up for me, in exchange for the slurry.”

  I turned around, glancing at Knox. “You were coming here, weren’t you?” I asked. “You were collecting shells and were coming here to ask Walt for help. Did you think he could aid you?”

  Knox immediately shuffled his feet, his gaze landing on Curtis, who was still out cold, his broken arm positioned at an odd angle. His expression went from uncomfortable to angry in less than a second. He met my stare, drawing himself up. “We were going to ask the old man if he had something that would take someone out.”

  “Poison?” I asked. “Or a weapon?”

  Knox shrugged. “Anything that couldn’t be identified. Poison or drugs. Something like that.”

  My gaze darted to where Knox had gestured at the blue solution in Walt’s hand. “What is that?” I asked Walt.

  “It doesn’t kill,” Walt said. “It just makes the person more…amiable. But I do possess what the child is referring to. I would never resort to using it without just cause, however.”

  I turned back to Knox. “How bad is it that you needed to come here to find a means to kill someone? Be honest with me. I need to know what we’re up against.”

  “Things have always been bad, but manageable, I guess.” He didn’t sound convinced, and I didn’t blame him. Bad was always bad. Manageable was a state of mind that kept you sane. “Recently, the leaders of our militia have been in negotiations with another group north of here. They are really…nasty.” He’d uttered the last word on a breath as he crossed his arms, likely to keep himself steady. “When they first came here, they killed two people just to prove a point. And they did it—with knives. Small ones. If Jorgen, our leader, agrees to merge with them, our lives will become infinitely worse.” He had to be talking about the militia we’d flown over in what used to be South Carolina. They were definitely staking their claim. “Me and Gia…won’t live through it.”

  “Militias like the one we’re talking about don’t usually ask for permission to take over,” I said. “Why is there any negotiation at all?”

  “Jorgen and a few others know those guys,” he said. “The militia said they were giving us a ‘courtesy’ by asking. But we all know it’s just a matter of time.”

  The man underneath Case’s foot began to struggle. Tim had been quiet up until now, probably too scared to make a fuss, knowing we’d retaliate with force. “He’s not telling the truth,” Tim whined. “We’ll all be better off with them! They provide more protection.”

  From who? And did he really believe that? Of course he did.

  “And women,” Tim went on. “They have more than us. That bitch he’s with is one of only five we have, not including children. There’s no way for us to procreate.”

  Procreate was a lie. These assholes didn’t care about making more people. They didn’t have enough women to rape. Five out of twenty-nine.

  My heart skipped a beat for Gia.

  I met Knox’s eyes. They said it all. Guilt, remorse, love, and sadness flitted over his features in the time it took to blink.

  He focused a hard gaze on the floor in front of him.

  Disgust flowed through my body. I cursed this world. Why did humans have to be so cruel?

  A loud oof sounded from my left.

  I glanced over to see that Tim was now unconscious. Good. The bastard was lucky he wasn’t dead. I turned to Walt. “Go ahead and give the two guys who are out cold that stuff, and we’ll tie them up.” I nodded to the blue solution he’d set back on the table. Then I addressed Knox. “I need names and descriptions of all the people who live here. Those who you consider good and those who will cause the most problems, and I need it quickly. We’ve already wasted enough time. People will come looking for these two sooner than later.”

  Knox appeared frightened, his face crumpling.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “There’s only a handful of people who are good,” he replied.

  “And?”

  “It won’t be enough.”

  “Enough for what?”

  “To defeat them,” Knox said.

  “Them who?” I asked.

  “The militia up north. Its’ too big and strong. They’ll just keep coming.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gia scowled at me. I was trying to remain unfazed in the face of her disdain, but it was a challenge. Time was ticking. “I’m sorry you’re still pissed off I drugged you,” I told her. “I had no choice. You were uncooperative. If you want me to treat you differently, be cooperative, like I’m asking.”

  We were all set to leave the dome.

  Curtis and Tim had been given a dose of the blue stuff, something Walt had named Quell, and were secured. Both men were awake, but unmoving. They seemed sleepy and content, actual smiles on their faces. I hope it lasted. Walt had said he’d used it only a few times, but he had more than enough for another dose and was going to keep a constant watch, backed up by Daze and Knox—and Gia if she decided to cooperate.

  That was still up for debate.

  “I don’t believe you,” Gia said.

  I leaned forward. We were sitting in a pair of chairs across from each other. She had woken up ten minutes ago. “What’s not to believe?” I said. “You and Knox, from what he’s told us while you were out, sound like the perfect pair to be in charge of the new tribe once we’re gone.” The new tribe would consist of the remaining scientists and anyone Knox deemed trustworthy. We’d decided to incarcerate the rest until we returned with reinforcements from the city. It was the best plan we had.

  Conveniently, this tribe had some sort of building they used regularly to jail people who pissed Jorgen off. He sounded like a lovely leader.

  Gia sputtered, rolling her eyes. “And once you come back, you’re going to shuttle us back to the city with you? Just like that? We won’t owe you for any of it.” In Gia’s world, there was always a cost, and most of the time, it was steep. That was my world, too, except when I dealt with
my crew. Right now, Gia, Walt, and Knox had become my responsibility, just like Daze—and anyone else who decided to go with us. But these guys didn’t require the same kind of sustainer/sustainee relationship. They were adults.

  “Your payment is keeping the scientists safe from both your militia and the militia that’s trying to infiltrate from up north,” I told her. “It’s a huge job. In fact, it’s so large that once you get to the city, I will arrange a place for you to stay and stock you with the necessary supplies.” I was making it up as I went along, but the Emporium was big enough to house a big group until we figured out better accommodations.

  “Why us?” she asked.

  She wasn’t making this easy on me. It was clear nobody had ever trusted her with much. “While you were asleep, Knox gave us a rundown of every member of your group. He said there are only a small handful who are against merging with the militia up north. You two, a woman named Bree, and two or three others—not counting the kids. Is he telling the truth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think someone else in the group would do a better job than you two at keeping everyone safe? Maybe Bree, perhaps?” I had a hunch that giving Gia power would transform her, which was my goal. This girl was being given a chance to turn her harsh life into something worthwhile. I was going to do everything within my power to make it happen and make her see it could happen. I just needed to do it quickly.

  “Shit, no,” she said with an accompanying lip curl.

  “Will you be able to protect the tribe against the militia up north?”

  “Of course.” Her tone was arrogant.

  Perfect.

  “Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” I told her. “You just confirmed that you’re the right person for this job, and we need the position filled. You will be compensated for your trouble once we get to the city. Are we done here?” I made a move to stand.

  She narrowed her gaze at me as I stood, moving the chair out of my way with a foot so I stood in front of her. “How do I know you won’t double-cross us and leave us behind?”

 

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