Mackie attempted to bring a pistol up from behind the motorcycle but Raines fired first. A third eye appeared in between the others. The bounty hunter’s head jerked and his body went limp.
Raines scanned the horizon. It would be just her luck to discover that more bounty hunters were closing in. But no, the only scavenger in sight was a turkey vulture riding the thermals above. Dinner was served.
Raines stuck the pistol into the small of her back, and went to get her siphoning kit. It took forty minutes to transfer the gas from the bikes into a jerry can, and pour the precious liquid into the 4X4. The truck was red. Or had been before years in the hot sun. Now it was pink. Raines called her Ruby.
Once the refueling process was complete the needle on the gas gauge floated a bit higher. Raines estimated that the Mackie brothers had “donated” about two gallons of fuel to her supply. And, since Ruby got a miserable sixteen miles to the gallon, that would provide Raines with thirty-two miles worth of range. Enough to reach a gas station.
It took the rest of the morning to reach the town of San Manuel, Arizona, where the county sheriff would receive Striker’s body--and notify the Republic of Texas. The republic was one of five independent countries that rose to replace the United States of America in the wake of the plague spread. The others included Atlantica, the New Confederacy, the Commonwealth, and Pacifica.
The sheriff and his deputies were housed in what amounted to a fort. The eight-foot-high walls were made of steel reinforced concrete, the guard towers were equipped with M61 Gatling guns, and the facility was surrounded by a dry moat. Why? Because the Republic of Texas was founded on Libertarian principles, that’s why.
“Less government is better.” That’s what proponents of the philosophy liked to say. And the consequence was fewer schools, less medical care, and sketchy law enforcement. The country’s reliance on bounty hunters was a natural extension of that. The people who were running the Republic of Texas figured hell, why pay for federal marshals and state police when bounty hunters are so much cheaper?
It wasn’t unusual for the courts to try fugitives in absentia using whatever evidence was handy. And, assuming the defendant was found guilty, to place a price on his or her head. The worse the crimes were, the higher the bounty. At 10,000 nu bucks the reward for bringing Striker in was a respectable though not remarkable sum.
That’s what Raines was thinking as she drove Ruby across the drawbridge. Then she had to clear a checkpoint before passing through the gate and entering the compound.
The complex included an admin building, a jail, and a barracks for the deputies. A sign pointed the way to the so-called “Redemption Center.” The name was apt since it could refer to “the payment of an obligation,” or “salvation from sin through Jesus’s sacrifice,” either of which could apply. Since there weren’t any other vehicles Raines was free to pull forward and park. A sign said, “Ring for Service,” and she did.
Kathy Striker’s body was strapped to Ruby’s cargo rack so Raines had to climb up and free it. The corpse was covered by a thick layer of white dust—and was starting to draw flies. A portly deputy appeared as Raines freed the last strap. His name was Pib Burns, and they’d done business before. “Hey, Mel,” he said cheerfully. “What have you got for me?”
Raines lifted the body up to the point where she could tip it over. Striker landed face down in front of Burns’ strangely shaped cowboy boots. The impact produced a puff of dust. “Kathy Striker,” Raines said. “Bank Robber extraordinaire. Bounty number 76492.”
Burns eyed a data pad. “Yup, that’s a match. It looks like Striker robbed two banks and killed a guard. You know the drill. The lab will check to see if a DNA sample from the body matches what we have on file. If it does the reward will be deposited in your bank account. If it doesn’t a price will be placed on your head. Got it?”
“I’ve got it,” Raines agreed, as she jumped to the ground. “You want a hand?”
“That would be right friendly of you,” Burns replied. “I’ll take her shoulders, you grab her ankles.” The so-called “fridge” was large enough to accommodate four bodies on slide-out trays. Two slots were occupied, so they dumped Striker into the third drawer. Then it was time to get a receipt from Burns, climb into Ruby, and head home.
Except Raines had no “home” other than the hotel she was staying in. That was because she traveled a lot, and a home would make her vulnerable to people like the Mackie brothers.
Raines had chosen to stay at the Red Saguaro. It wasn’t fancy, but the rooms were clean, and the hot water was hot.
After checking in, and dumping her belongings in room 103, Raines went to dinner. The restaurant was two blocks away. And Raines liked the combination of Tex-Mex food and country western music. Raines’s favorite seat was in the back where she could eyeball the front door.
After a chicken burrito and two bottles of Mexican beer, Raines returned to the motel. The night passed peacefully. When she awoke, she made her way into the bathroom for the daily confrontation with herself. Half of her face was human, and more than that, beautiful. Everybody said so.
The other half was covered with light blue scales. They trickled out of her hairline, flowed around her left eye, and down along the side of her nose.
Then the scales cascaded down over her chin and onto her neck. And there was more. The bounty hunter’s right eye was gray, while the left was violet, and partially obscured by a reptile-like nictitating membrane.
Snakeskin. That’s what people called Raines behind her back. And, even though she lived in a redzone with mutants who had problems of their own, the name hurt. Her condition, their conditions, were the result of a terrorist attack perpetrated by a man named Al Mumit (the taker of life).
Back in 2038, Al Mumit had used seven-hundred and eighty-six Shaheed, or martyrs, to deliver a bioengineered bacterium called Bacillus nosilla to the Kaffar (unbelievers) all around the world. The carriers had been chosen because they looked western or were clearly innocent. Like babies.
After entering their target countries, the Shaheed sought out sports arenas, music events, and transportation hubs. Any place where Bacillus nosilla could spread. The results were everything Al Mumit had hoped for. Thousands fell ill and they communicated the disease to others. People like Tom and Marla Raines. By some miracle they survived even as millions died. But, when Marla gave birth, it was to a thing. A snakeskin.
A tear escaped from the human eye and trickled down her cheek. There was reason to hope however. The norms who ran Pacifica had some very skilled doctors. Every mutant knew of someone who had been treated there.
Unfortunately, operations like the ones Raines required would cost at least half a million nu. And she had 152-thousand stashed in the bank. Make that 160-thousand, thanks to the donation from Kathy Striker.
And that was why Melody Raines was a bounty hunter. It was going to take a lot of money to erase her face. Each morning began with the same ritual. After wiping the tears away Raines would brush her teeth and go to work. And someday, when a new face appeared in the mirror, the killing would stop.
After checking out of the motel Raines drove Ruby to Jo-Jo’s truck stop at the edge of town, where she instructed the manager to check the 4X4’s tires. The restaurant was on the other side of the parking lot.
Some of the locals knew Raines and said “Hi,” as the bounty hunter made her way to a table in the back. Raines ordered breakfast, and was sipping a cup of coffee, when a stranger approached the table. He had wispy hair and what remained of a horn that protruded from the center of his forehead. “Ms. Raines? My name is Alan Peavey. Jo-Jo said I should talk to you. Can I have a moment of your time?”
Raines eyed him over the rim of her cup. “That depends on what you plan to do with it.”
“A man named Thomas Cray took my daughter,” Peavey replied. “And I’m trying to get her back. But Cray controls the town of Bliss, and he has bodyguards.”
“Sorry,” Raines said. “I’
m a bounty hunter. What you need is a gunfighter, or a group of gunfighters. Ask around. You’ll find them.”
“I have,” Peavey said. “But I can’t afford them. That’s why I came to you.”
“It’s like I said,” Raines replied. “I’m a bounty hunter—and I don’t do charity work.”
Peavey nodded. “I understand. But there’s a fifty-thousand nu bounty on Cray’s head. So, if you capture him, or kill him, you’ll get paid. And I’ll get my daughter back.”
Raines considered it. Fifty-thousand nu bounties were rare… And fifty-thousand would make a nice addition to the face fund. But why hadn’t she heard of Cray? And why hadn’t one of her competitors capped the bastard? Still, it wouldn’t hurt to listen. “Sure, have a seat.”
“Thank you,” Peavey said, as he slid onto the seat across from her. When the waitress arrived, Raines saw the way that Peavey was eyeing her breakfast. “Are you hungry?”
Peavey nodded. Raines turned to the waitress. “Mr. Peavey would like to order breakfast. Put it on my tab.”
Peavey ordered a modest meal of bacon and eggs with toast. “Okay,” Raines said, as the waitress walked away. “Tell me about Cray… Why haven’t I heard of him?”
“His real name is Joel Wazinski,” Peavey replied. “And he’s wanted for murder, theft, and rape among other things.”
Raines had heard of Wazinski. Every bounty hunter had. A lot of her peers called him “the Wizard of Waz,” because of the way he’d been able to remain on the run for what? Five years? Something like that. The man was like smoke. Here one moment and gone the next. “I’ve heard of Wazinski,” Raines allowed. “But no one knows where he is. That’s why he’s alive.”
“Except I know where he is,” Peavey said.
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“Cray is running a religion,” Peavey said. “Except it’s more like a cult. The members have to do what Cray tells them if they want to achieve enlightenment. Once they do, their deformities will disappear. That’s why I went. To get rid of this.” Peavey brought a grubby finger up to touch the stubby horn. It had been amputated leaving a stub.
We’re two of a kind, Raines thought, as she sipped her coffee. “Okay, you went to some meetings. What happened after that?”
Peavy’s food arrived and he hurried to butter a piece of toast. “The meetings were held in secret,” Penn told her. “And most of them were led by students called Chelas. They told us that the master would come and he did. We couldn’t see him though. He was wearing a mask, air tanks, and a rubber suit.”
Raines frowned. “Air tanks? What for?”
“Cray was a mutant,” Peavey answered. “But after years of study he achieved enlightenment—and his normal body became manifest. But it made him vulnerable to Bacillus nosilla. That’s what he claims.”
“So he came to the meeting,” Raines said. “Then what? How does your daughter figure into this?”
“It was my fault,” Peavey said miserably. “We live out in the desert. I didn’t want to leave Lilly home alone. So, I took her along. And everything was fine until Cray arrived. When Cray spotted Lilly, I knew he wanted her. He said she’d been chosen, and took us to the town of Bliss. It had another name before the cult moved in, but that’s what they call it, and the locals go along. Once we arrived Cray told me that he was going to marry Lilly. But she’s only twelve! And Cray has two wives already.”
Raines felt a rising sense of anger. Somebody needed to bring the bastard in or, failing that, kill him. “I’m sorry,” Raines said. “You said that Cray wanted Lilly from the moment he saw her. Why?”
“Lilly has an extra kidney,” Peavey answered, “but she looks normal. And she’s pretty. Like her mother was.”
Raines nodded. Normal women, and women who looked normal, were quite valuable in the redzone. So much so that men would pay high prices for them, or in some cases, steal them. “So Cray took you to Bliss. But you’re here.”
“I ran away,” Peavey told her. “And they’re looking for me. But I’ll take you there,” he promised. “I’d walk into hell itself for Lilly.”
“Finish your breakfast,” Raines said, as she turned to her data pad. “I’m going to check on a few things.” It took less than five minutes to verify that Wazinski was still on the loose. And the bounty had risen to sixty-thousand nu. The decision made itself. Cray was going down.
Once they finished eating, Raines led Peavey out of the restaurant and across the parking lot. Two dozen big rigs were parked there. It was dangerous out in the boonies, so all of the trucks had DYI armor and bolt-on weapons.
Long haul trucking was like bounty hunting in a way. The rewards could be high, but a single mistake would put a driver in the ground.
Ruby’s tires had been repaired, and she was ready to roll. The bill totaled 426 nu. That was one of the reasons why most wannabe bounty hunters went out of business in a matter of months. The overhead was high.
After paying the bill, Peavey took Raines to the old airstream trailer where he and Lilly lived prior to meeting Cray. Everything Peavey needed went into the knapsack/bedroll combo that he threw into Ruby’s backseat. Then they were off.
Raines was in no mood to talk, but Peavey was, and started to interrogate her. “So,” Peavey said, as he pointed to the badge. “What’s up with that?”
The badge was pinned to the driver’s side visor—and a memory of days gone by. “I was a cop,” Raines told him. “In Tucson.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Peavey replied. “You had to learn somewhere. Why did you quit?”
“To make more money,” Raines replied. “So I could fund an orphanage in Prescott.”
“That’s wonderful,” Peavey said enthusiastically. “More people should do that sort of thing.”
“Yes, they should,” Raines agreed. “Now shut up. I have some thinking to do.”
It took the better part of two hours to reach a point where, according to Peavey, they were roughly five miles from Bliss. Raines pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. “Okay,” she said, “you’ll have to hoof it from here.”
Peavey frowned. “Why?”
“Because they’re looking for you,” Raines reminded him. “Right,” Peavey said. “That makes sense.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Raines said drily. “I might need some help. Take this radio. Turn it on every hour on the hour around the clock.”
“I don’t have a watch.”
Raines sighed. “Okay, leave it on all of the time. The batteries are new, and should last for three or four days. Do not, I repeat do not, call me. I will call you. Understood?”
Peavey nodded. “Understood.”
“Good. Do you have some food?”
Peavey nodded. “Enough for three days.”
“All right. If you haven’t heard from me by 6:00 PM on day three, then I tried and failed.”
Peavey looked worried. “What should I do then?”
“Find another sucker. Now get going.”
Peavey walked away, paused to look back, and disappeared into a ravine. Raines pulled back onto the highway and continued north. According to Peavey the cult had established a checkpoint a mile from town. And he was correct. An awning was stretched over the road to provide shade. There were two vehicles in front of Raines, so it was necessary to wait before pulling forward.
The cult’s security people had shoulder length hair and Celtic facial tattoos. They were dressed in nearly identical pullover shirts with jeans. A woman stepped up to the window. A snake-like tongue flicked in and out as she spoke. “I need to see your invitation if you’re here for the wedding.”
Wedding? Was the woman referring to Cray’s wedding to Lilly? That seemed likely. “My name is Raines, Melody Raines, and I’m a bounty hunter. Have you seen this man?” Raines gave the woman a flyer. “His name is Percy Kraven, but he’s probably calling himself something else. I heard he was in Bliss.”
That wasn’t true of course, but it didn’t matter. Kra
ven could be anywhere. The woman shook her head. “No. I haven’t seen him.”
“Okay,” Raines replied. “But I’d like to look around. Kraven is a dangerous man. He might hurt someone.”
The woman nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll give your poster to Monitor Hughes. He’ll keep an eye out as well.”
Raines didn’t know what a “monitor” was, but figured Hughes was similar to a marshal. Raines felt a sense of relief as she drove away. The next task was to figure out how to take Craven into custody or kill him.
After passing a doublewide and a row of dilapidated houses, Raines saw the Come-On-Inn motel. It consisted of five cabins and the sign out front read: “Full.” Because of the nuptials? Probably.
Ruby passed under a newly constructed archway with the name “BLISS” centered on it shortly thereafter. The town’s previous name of Waterville was nowhere to be seen. The old two- and three-story buildings were draped with white and purple bunting, containers of artificial flowers hung from the retro lampposts, and a heart made of intertwined twigs dangled over Main Street.
Raines’s thoughts turned to Lilly. She was only twelve years old, and people of Bliss didn’t seem to give a shit. Why? Did Cray have the town by the balls? Or were the locals that callous? Some of both perhaps. Raines felt sorry for the girl.
When Raines saw a sign for The Antlers Hotel, she pulled over and went in. The lobby was delightfully cool and home to some ancient furniture. The animal heads on the walls included a buffalo, two mountain goats, and enough deer to form a herd.
A cyclops was waiting to greet Raines at the main desk. The retro bowling shirt and short hair suggested that he was a local. His single eye blinked blue. “Good afternoon… How can I help you?”
“I need a room.”
“I’m sorry miss, but we’re full up.”
Raines placed a fifty nu note on the counter and left her hand on it. “This is for you if you find a way to squeeze me in.”
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