The Adjusters

by Taylor, Andrew

  “I hope this leads somewhere!” Henry yelled as they took a sharp turn. If anything, the drive seemed to be getting narrower…before it suddenly opened out onto a main road. Henry struggled to keep control, gripping the wheel hard, but it was more luck than anything that got the truck on the road and headed in the right direction. The tyres squealed as they burned rubber along the tarmac.

  Then they were heading away from Trooper Dan’s house as fast as the truck could carry them, which was about 40kph. Henry leaned his head back and took a deep breath. The head of the axe was still sticking through the door – it had been wrenched from the cop’s hand as they sped away. He looked round at Fox, who was focused on the road ahead with great intensity, knuckles white on the dashboard.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  Fox nodded. “I’m okay. I just…” Her voice trailed away, as if she’d just thought of something terrible. Her eyes darted to the rear-view mirror. “He’s in the back!”

  Henry jerked round in his seat, looking through the back window into the empty back of the truck…

  There was nothing there. He took a deep breath. “He’s not there.”

  Fox laughed, a little manically. “Sorry. Getting paranoid.”

  They took another corner fast. Henry was riding the gas hard, trying to put as much space between them and the cop as possible. He wondered just how much Trooper Dan had in him. The wound to his hand had been serious, but he’d shown little sign of pain. Had he been adjusted as well? The cop’s resilience reminded him of their fight with Steve. An implanted SPIDIR would have allowed him to shut off the pain, but how long would it be before the blood loss caused him simply to collapse? Henry took another glance through the back window, half expecting to see the police cruiser in pursuit, but the road was empty. He looked up. No sign of the helicopter in the sky either. Perhaps they’d got lucky.

  “Henry!” Fox exclaimed.

  He looked round in time to see the headlights of a cop car speeding towards them. For a second he thought it was the trooper, but then realized there was no way Dan could have come from that direction. Also this vehicle was white with blue markings, more like the patrol cars he was used to seeing in the city. He watched the tail lights recede into the distance in the side mirror. But then the car stopped and began to pull round. Red and blue flashes lit up the dark sky.

  “It’s following us!” Fox said. “Why is it following us?”

  The randomized whup-whup-woo of the siren grew closer as it sped back up the road after them.

  “Well, let me see,” Henry said. “They just passed two kids driving a forty-year-old pickup with an axe sticking out of the passenger door. I think they might have noticed.”

  Fox shot him a glance. “Do you think they’re with Malcorp?”

  Henry considered as he watched the cop car grow huge in the mirror. “No. Those are city cops. I can tell by the colours on the car.”

  “What does that mean? They could be working with Mallory too.”

  “Maybe,” Henry said. “Or maybe they’re just passing. They’ll have a radio. We can call for help.”

  Fox nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

  “PULL OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD NOW,” a cop’s voice blared from a speaker set into the front of the pursuit vehicle.

  “We can’t outrun that car,” Henry said.

  “I hope you’re right about them,” Fox replied as he eased off the gas and brought the truck to a halt by the side of the road. Behind them, the patrol car stopped a good ten metres away.

  “Just stay there,” Henry said to Fox before opening his door and stepping out with his hands raised…

  “FREEZE!” a lean, thin-faced cop screamed from the other car. He was halfway out of the passenger door and already had his automatic in his hands. “Police officer! Hold it right there or I will shoot!”

  “Please!” Henry called back to the cop. “We need help! We’re being chased!”

  The driver’s door of the patrol car opened and another officer, much stockier than the first, emerged. He had a shotgun in his hands and crouched down, using the door as a shield.

  Henry went on, “There’s this crazy—”

  “STOP TALKING AND LISTEN CAREFULLY!” the thin cop bellowed in a voice that made Henry shut up immediately. “Get on your knees and place your hands on your head. Do it now!”

  Henry did as he was told. As he kneeled down, he glanced at Fox through the open door. Although she looked as terrified as he felt, she still managed to roll her eyes at him as if to say told you so.

  “Who else is in your vehicle?” the cop yelled, keeping his gun trained on Henry, even though he was kneeling as instructed.

  “My friend,” Henry said.

  “Tell her to put her hands on the dash and keep still,” the cop ordered.

  “Keep still,” Henry said to Fox.

  “Yeah, I heard,” she replied, placing her hands where the cop could see them.

  Satisfied that they were complying, the thin cop said something to his partner and then started walking towards the pickup, all the while keeping his gun trained on Henry. As he approached, Henry saw that he was indeed a city cop – dressed in a different uniform to the brown Newton County trousers and shirt that Trooper Dan wore. A gold name tag on his chest read Myers. He gave the pickup a wide berth as he approached, looking into the front at Fox before turning his attention to Henry.

  “Do you know you’ve got an axe sticking out of your vehicle?” he asked.

  “Uh, yes sir,” Henry replied. “I do.”

  “How old are you two?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Little young to be driving, don’t you think?” Rather than waiting for a response, the cop asked, “What’s that on your shirt?”

  Henry looked down at the front of his T-shirt and saw the flecks of blood all over it from Trooper Dan’s hand, drying to a dark red now. He winced as he said, “It’s blood.”

  “Your blood?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Her blood?” Officer Myers asked, nodding at Fox.

  “No, sir,” Henry replied. “It was this cop…”

  “A cop?”

  Henry shot a desperate glance at Fox, who shook her head slightly.

  “He’s crazy,” Henry went on. “His name’s Trooper Dan, but he’s insane. We were in his house…”

  “You were in the cop’s house?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Breaking and entering?”

  “No…we…”

  “How’d you get his blood on you?”

  “He…” Henry swallowed heavily. “He got shot. But it isn’t what you’re thinking…”

  Officer Myers moved fast, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from his belt and moving behind Henry. “Don’t you move a muscle,” he ordered Fox as he snapped the cuffs over Henry’s left wrist, pulled his arm down his back and then cuffed his right wrist to it.

  “You’ve got this all wrong!” Henry protested. “We’re in danger!”

  Myers grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “In danger? Well, don’t worry, kid. We’re gonna lock you up in the back of our patrol car where you’ll be real safe. Your girlfriend too.” He turned to Fox. “Get out of the truck nice and slow. Then start walking towards my partner with your hands high as you can. Got it?”

  Fox nodded. She opened her door and began walking as she’d been instructed. Myers started leading Henry in the same direction, keeping a few paces behind Fox.

  “What’s your name, kid?” asked Myers, who seemed a whole lot more relaxed now his prisoner had the cuffs on. Henry told him his name. “Well, you’ve got some explaining to do, Henry.”

  “I’m trying to explain!” he protested. This wasn’t going at all as he’d hoped. It looked like the cops were going to put them in the car and drive them right back to Newton and into the waiting arms of John Mallory. And who would they listen to then? The kid with blood all over his T-shirt or the billionaire businessman? He could almost ima
gine Mallory’s words…

  They’re runaways, officer… Problems with drugs… Delusional… Yes, we’ll take very good care of them from now on…

  “Please, you at least have to make a call on your radio,” said Henry, knowing he was running out of chances to convince them.

  “You’ll get to make your call at the station,” Myers said. Fox was now standing with her hands on the hood of the patrol car. Henry met her eyes and gave an exasperated look.

  “Great,” she said. “Take us to the city…”

  “We’re taking you to the nearest sheriff’s office,” Myers said. “Which I’m thinking would be the Newton County department.”

  “No!” Henry said. “Not Newton! Trooper Dan’s in charge there!”

  “Who’s Trooper Dan?” the other cop asked, speaking for the first time.

  “The insane cop!” Fox persisted. “You have to listen to what we’re…”

  Her voice trailed away at the sound of another vehicle. They all looked round and saw the blinding headlights of a sandy-coloured police cruiser appear a few hundred metres down the road. It stopped, as if the driver was deciding whether to approach or not.

  “That’s him!” Henry said. “That’s Trooper Dan!”

  Myers opened the back door and bundled Henry inside. “Sit in there and stay quiet if you know what’s good for you.”

  Henry twisted round to protest – it was difficult trying to sit down with his hands cuffed behind his back – but Myers simply slammed the door in his face. On the other side of the car the second cop opened the back door and, taking Fox’s arm, pushed her inside.

  “I ain’t gonna cuff you,” he said more softly. His name badge said Clifton. “But if you cause any trouble, I will. Just sit tight and it’ll all be okay.”

  Fox began, “But…”

  “Leave this to the professionals, huh?” He slammed the door.

  Fox turned to Henry. “We have to get out of here!”

  “I know,” Henry said, looking around the inside of the car. There was no handle on his door – it could only be opened from the outside. And with the cuffs on, he wouldn’t be getting very far anyway. He looked through the back window. Trooper Dan’s cruiser had started moving again. It rolled to a halt ten metres down the road. The driver’s door swung open and the huge cop unfolded himself from inside. Although it was the middle of the night, he was wearing his mirror shades to hide his crazy eyes and had a jacket zipped over his bloodstained shirt.

  “Oh, my god,” Fox whispered as they watched the trooper greet Myers with a smile and a wave of his good hand. He approached the patrol car and as he came closer, they saw that his left hand was now covered in a fresh, white bandage. The driver’s door of the patrol car was open beside the cop called Clifton, so they could hear the exchange between the trooper and Myers.

  “Howdy,” Trooper Dan said. “You boys are kinda outside your jurisdiction, ain’t ya?” His voice was suddenly like a country hick – not too smart, but very friendly.

  “You can say that again,” Myers said with a laugh. “Our sergeant sent us up here on a wild goose chase. Some reporter went missing. Guy called Stuart Richardson. Ever heard of him?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Trooper Dan said coolly.

  “Turns out he’s the mayor’s nephew, so the whole world has to stop. Sent us over here in the middle of the night to check out the GPS on his iPhone. Dumb idiot probably got lost in the woods up here.”

  Through the window, Henry watched Trooper Dan grin and shake his head like he felt Officer Myers’s pain. It was a great act. And, as before, if his damaged hand was giving him any pain now, he was expert at hiding it.

  “We tried calling the Newton sheriff’s office, in fact,” Myers went on. “There was no answer.”

  Trooper Dan shrugged. “I’m pretty busy.”

  “We’ve been trying to call for two days,” Myers said. Suddenly there was an edge to his voice.

  “Hmmm,” Trooper Dan said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you boys’ names.”

  Myers introduced himself and Clifton and rattled off the name of their precinct in the city. But Trooper Dan wasn’t really listening. Instead he started looking directly at the back of the patrol car, checking out Henry and Fox in the back. When Myers finished, rather than offering his own details, Trooper Dan just stared at his prey.

  “Have you hurt yourself?” Myers asked.

  “Huh?” the trooper said, as if he’d been disturbed from a trance.

  “Your hand. That looks nasty.”

  Trooper Dan held up his bandage as if he’d forgotten it was there. “This? It’s nothing.”

  “What happened?”

  “Looks like I owe you city boys a drink,” Trooper Dan said, ignoring the question. “You’ve picked up a couple of runaways I’ve been huntin’ all over these woods.”

  Myers glanced back at the patrol car. “Runaways? You know one of them is covered in blood?”

  Trooper Dan looked at him. “Blood?” He shook his head. “God knows what kids get up to these days…”

  As the trooper continued to spin the standard yarn about runaway kids and drugs, Fox let out a little gasp, as if remembering something.

  “What is it?” Henry asked.

  “I found this in the house!” she said, pulling Richardson’s wallet from her jeans. “It belonged to that reporter!”

  She leaned over the passenger seat and waved it to get Clifton’s attention.

  “I thought I told you to…” Officer Clifton’s voice trailed away as he took the wallet from her and opened it. Stuart Richardson’s ID cards were plain to see. “Where’d you find this?” he asked.

  “In that cop’s house,” Fox said.

  “Hey, Sam!” Officer Myers called out to Clifton. “Looks like those two belong to the trooper here. Want to get them out and put them in the back of his cruiser?”

  Clifton was silent for a moment. Henry and Fox looked back again to where Trooper Dan was standing, still glaring at them from behind his mirror shades.

  “Perhaps we should call this one in first,” Officer Clifton said, tossing the wallet on the dash of the patrol car and shifting the shotgun in his hand.

  “You sure?” Myers asked, and once again Henry sensed a silent understanding passing between the two cops.

  “Yeah…I’m sure,” Clifton replied. He climbed back behind the wheel and snatched up the radio mic from the dash. “This is patrol fifty-one calling mobile dispatch, come in…” All that came back was static.

  “Please, you have to un-cuff me,” Henry said, leaning forward. “You don’t know what Trooper Dan’s capable of...”

  “Just sit tight,” Clifton said. “We’ll deal with this.” He spoke into the mic again and got nothing back.

  Outside the car, Trooper Dan was getting impatient. “What you got to call this in for? Those kids are my problem, not yours.”

  Myers looked at him apologetically. “Procedure. My partner’s a real stickler for procedure. You know, sometimes I think he wouldn’t take a leak without filling in a form.”

  “I know the type,” Trooper Dan said with a sympathetic shake of the head. “Let me tell you what I think of procedure…”

  He pulled a gun and calmly shot Officer Myers in the head.

  In the back of the patrol car, Henry and Fox recoiled in shock as the sound of the gunshot reverberated across the road. Officer Myers seemed to fall in slow motion, pitching to one side, his skull practically obliterated by the force of the bullet at close range. Trooper Dan’s spare gun was an automatic that was much smaller than the Magnum but no less lethal. As Myers hit the ground, Trooper Dan turned towards the patrol car and fired.

  The back window exploded. Henry and Fox ducked down as Officer Clifton, breathing fast and with beads of sweat pricking his forehead, leaned in to the front seat. A second bullet ripped through the vehicle, punching a hole in the windshield.

  “Get us out of here!” Henry yelled. But instead of driving the c
ar, Clifton leaped out with a shotgun in his arms. He fired twice in quick succession, but his hand was shaking and the bullets flew way off target. He kept on moving to the cover of a ditch on the other side of the road. Trooper Dan fired after him.

  In the back, Henry and Fox exchanged panicked glances.

  “What do we do?” Fox asked above the noise of another round of gunfire.

  Between the front seats Henry could see the key chain dangling in the ignition. Attached to it were a couple of smaller keys – undoubtedly for the cuffs.

  “Get those keys,” Henry said. “At least I can slip these off my wrists.”

  Keeping as low as possible, Fox reached through to the front and grabbed the keys from the ignition. As she got them, Henry stole a look through the back. Trooper Dan had retreated to the cover of his cruiser and was slotting a fresh clip into the automatic. Meanwhile, Officer Clifton fired his shotgun more steadily now, hitting the front of the cruiser, but missing his target.

  “Here,” Fox said, fitting the small keys into the cuffs. Henry almost laughed with relief as they sprang open. He turned round and grabbed the keys from her.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, squeezing through the gap between the front seats. He fitted the keys into the ignition and put his foot on the gas. The engine turned over easily, not like the truck. Through the open driver’s door he saw Officer Clifton crouched in the ditch across the road.

  “Get over here!” Henry called out to the cop.

  “Stay where you are!” Clifton called back. “Do not move!”

  Henry shook his head. “He’s going to kill you!”

  Clifton rose from the ditch and fired the shotgun at the cruiser once more. “I said—”

  A bullet from Trooper Dan’s gun hit Clifton in the throat and he staggered back into the ditch, out of sight.

  “Just go!” Fox cried from the back.

  Henry floored the gas and the patrol car roared away so fast the driver’s door slammed shut. Easing himself into the seat behind the wheel, Henry struggled to keep control as Trooper Dan fired after them down the road. At least one bullet hit, shattering a side window.