by Logan Jacobs
“No, bad Lord, that’s why we were laying siege to the castle,” she said and I couldn’t help but think I was in a Marx Brothers bit.
“Hey, I think I know where we are,” PoLarr called from the top of the trailer.
“Sweet, where?” I shot back and began to screw the new hose into the coupling.
“Middle of bum fuck nowhere,” she snickered.
“Very funny,” I said and shook my head. Having someone share my memories and, subsequently, my very odd sense of humor gave me an insight as to why a lot of people wanted to shoot me.
“Hold on a few seconds,” PoLarr said. “I’m gonna get a better look around.”
There was a whoosh as her rocket boosters ignited, and she shot straight up into the air probably three hundred feet. If she’d had her normal pack she would have been able to fly as high as she wanted, but this pack, with its modifications, only let her go up so high for so long. She gave herself two extra bursts to hold herself aloft for about ten full seconds and then she fell back to the ground with increasing speed. Fifty feet before crashing into the top of the trailer she let off a burst from the rockets and landed like she’d jumped off a ten foot high ladder.
“Looks like there is some kind of settlement north west maybe a hundred miles,” she added as she climbed down from the truck.
“One of those City-States Artie mentioned?” I asked.
“No,” PoLarr said as she thought about what she had seen. “Some kind of shanty town, maybe? Like something out of The Postman.”
“Costner’s end of the world phase, nice,” I nodded. For as annoying as sharing a brain could be, it was also nice having someone who I didn’t have to explain my encyclopedia of obscure pop culture references to.
“If we take one of the engines off line we should be able to limp there with some fuel to spare,” Tempest added as she walked over.
“After our frackas earlier today, I’m hesitant to seek help from anyone,” I said. “Let’s head that way but scout far in advance.”
Everyone finished up what minor repairs they were working on, and we piled into the truck as the planet's big red sun began to poke over the horizon to our left. I started the truck, and we rolled out in the light purple haze of the morning.
Two hours later, the five of us lay prone on the roof of the trailer as I looked through a pair of binoculars at the little town. I’d positioned the truck near a rocky outcropping with the sun at our backs to make it harder for anyone to see us, but I was still nervous.
The town looked like some kind of old mining settlement. Clapboard wooden structures lined one main street with five or six smaller avenues radiating outward like an old TV antenna. I made out a hotel/saloon, general store, a bunch of single story storage facilities, and then a big industrial complex at the far end of the town. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a mining town, but a drilling town. The industrial complex was an oil refinery. Four huge storage tanks sat on the edge of the facility surrounded by some scraggly looking vehicles.
“They have plenty of guzzoline,” I said in my best dark and evil voice.
“This baby is very thirsty,” Tempest replied. “We need that gas.”
“That we do,” I added. “After the night we had, I don’t trust anyone other than the four of you right now, but I doubt we have another thirty miles left in the tank. We don’t have a choice but to head into town.”
“What is the plan, Marc?” Nova asked from her prone position next to me.
“Guns blazing or sneak attack?” PoLarr asked from my other side.
“Yes,” I answered after a long beat. “Nova, you and Aurora take the truck, and skirt around the town and take a position as close as you can get to those tanks without being seen. Tempest, PoLarr, and I are going to check out what the hospitality is like. If we don’t check in every thirty minutes, barrel through the town with the Behemoth until we hook back up. If things get dicey for you two, send out a distress signal, and we’ll come running. Everyone got it?”
They all nodded.
“Team Havak go!” I said and they all echoed.
We spent the next ten minutes checking our gear and stocking up on ammo. Both my six shot Equalizer and carbine Eradicator were fully loaded. I’d also locked my chainsaw on a chain into its sword mode and slung it across my back. Tempest traded her sniper rifle for a battered pump-action shotgun and had hidden some thin strips of plas-ex cord in the lining of her jacket. PoLarr completed her space gunslinger look with a wide brimmed western style felt hat.
I patted the hood of the truck and watched as Nova and Aurora drove off in a wide arc that would keep them out of sight of the town. Once the truck had disappeared over the rise of a hill, Tempest, PoLarr and I started our two-mile walk into the city.
An hour later, the three of us strolled down the center of main street like we were in some Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western. I’d considered trying to sneak into the little village but decided against it. Better to let them know we didn’t think there was any funny business going on even if there was. Project strength and confidence.
Our guns were held low and loose, almost casually, but ready to be brought to bear at a moments notice. As we made our way down the street farther into town, I could sense eyes on us. Faces peered from behind curtains or around doorways.
When we’d reached the centerpoint of the wide street a tall, thin, weather worn alien stepped down from the porch of a building next to the saloon to stand ten feet in front of us. He had dark, leather like skin and wore loose, black, dust covered clothes that had seen better days. From what I could tell, he was unarmed.
“Greetings, travelers,” he croaked out. His voice was like dry twigs rubbing together. “My name is Thadeeus. I’m the Sec-Chief of Everywhere. State your business.”
“I’m Caleb,” I responded, using my middle name. “My traveling companions and I, weary as we are, broke down a few miles outside of town and are in need of fuel and maybe some supplies. We were part of a desert convoy that ran into some wasteland scorpions and got separated from our group.”
“The wasteland scorpions have taken their share of victims,” Thadeeus nodded as he eyed us keenly. “Many of Everywhere’s inhabitants have similar stories. Do you mean us any harm?”
“No sir,” I replied and shot PoLarr and Tempest quick glances. It was an odd question. If we did, we sure as hell wouldn’t tell those we intended to harm our intentions. “Just want to see if we can barter for some fuel, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Everywhere has plenty of fuel,” he said carefully. “Why don’t we get out of the blazing sun? Come on into the saloon here, and we can discuss a trade.”
He turned and began to walk slowly toward the saloon.
“He’s trying to gain our confidence by turning his back,” Tempest whispered to me as we followed him, sure to keep a very safe distance. “I don’t trust it.”
“Neither do I,” I told her. “But let’s play along.”
Before we walked up the few wooden steps that lead into the ramshackle, sun bleached, wooden structure that was the saloon, the wind changed direction and blew some of the oily smoke from the refinery down the canyon created by the buildings. It was bitter and acrid, like burning tires, strong and overpowering. But there was another smell lurking underneath the harsh petroleum scent. A sickly sweet odor that I couldn’t quite make out. Then the wind died down as fast as it had kicked up, and the smell was gone but it left a cloying aftertaste in my mouth. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end but I couldn’t identify the smell that had my inner warning bells ringing. I gave a brief thought to turning and hauling ass but we were committed at this point and needed the fuel. If the three of us could keep everyone’s attention on us, Nova and Aurora could hopefully get the fuel, and we could get the fuck out of here.
As we crossed the threshold into the saloon, it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark interior. It wasn’t that different from the outside. Everything was worn and old.
There were maybe four small wooden tables spread out on the wide saloon floor that was covered in dirt and sand. A brass bar lined one wall with a dirty, cloudy, smudged, broken mirror behind it. I caught our shattered reflections in the warped looking glass like some kind of bad omen.
A few ragged Sec-Men sat at one of the tables, finishing up breakfast, I assumed. A palid, morbidly obese alien bartender stood behind the bar, the pale folds of his skin piled on top of one another slick with sweat and sloth like. A time wrecked alien hostess, dressed in a threadbare dress with wilted petticoats, nodded to Thaddeeus as he walked over to her.
“Abbatia, why don’t you go get our guests some grub?” He asked her in a tone that wasn’t asking.
“Right away, Thadeeus,” she responded and licked her cracked lips before disappearing into the back of the saloon through two swinging kitchen doors.
Tempest, PoLarr and I bellied up to the bar next to Thadeeus in front of the bartender. I let the Eradicator fall on its sling but still kept my right hand resting on the molded wooden grip of my Equalizer at my hip. Tempest lowered her shotgun and propped it on the floor so that it rested against the bar. It looked casual, but her fingers were no more than a few centimeters from the scatter gun as she leaned against the bar. PoLarr edged closer to the door with her back against the brass railing of the bar so that she could watch the whole room without it seeming like she was watching the whole bar.
“This is Chik-Tillo,” Thadeeus motioned to the grotesque bartender. “He’s also Everywhere’s Head Counter, as well as bartender.”
Chik-Tillo and Thadeeus chuckled together at some inside joke. Chik-Tillo’s was wet and slurpy in contrast to the Sec-Chief’s dry, brittle croaking.
“He means I count all the things in town that need counting,” Chik-Tillo explained through thick, oversized lips, slick with saliva. “Not that I count heads.”
“I didn’t think that’s what he meant,” I said warily without any hint of humor. Fingers of electric fear began to tickle my spine like the caress of a ghost.
“Of course not,” Chik-Tillo cajoled. “You are clearly a shrewd traveler. Thadeeus said you need fuel. What can you trade?”
“We’ve got some rations,” I answered. In the shattered mirror behind the bartenders slug-like head, I saw the Sec-Men stand up from the table and casually walk to either side of the exit. Too casually. “Self-heating meal pouches and some ammo.”
Abbatia reentered through the kitchen door carrying three plates of food. She set them down on the bar in front of us and backed away from us as she continued to lick her lips.
The fingers of fear on my spine turned into a hammering fist. Something was very wrong here. I glanced at Tempest and PoLarr out of the corner of my eye and saw that they felt the same way. Their bodies sent off waves of anticipation.
I looked down at the plate of food, and my stomach churned. The meat that filled the plate was greasy, stringy, and full of gristle. A thick brown sauce full of intense spices covered the chunks. It was a like a mix of turmeric and coriander but under was again that sickly sweet smell that covered the inside of my nostril like oil.
“We have no need for your rations, our bellies are always full in Everywhere,” Chik-Tillo said in a sing song voice and then giggled. “Ammo is useful though. Do we have a deal?”
Just before I pulled my gaze from the plate of slop on the bar I saw what looked like a slender finger bone as gravy dripped from the pale knuckle. There was a gold ring still on the bone.
Before I even knew my hand had moved, it was filled with the comforting weight of the Equalizer, the heavy barrel pointed right at Chik-Tillo’s shocked face.
“No, we do not,” I growled.
In the blink of an eye Tempest had the shotgun at her shoulder and aimed at Thadeeus while PoLarr, both hands full of her own wide-bore Equalizers, covered the Sec-Men at the exit.
“It’s people, isn’t it?” PoLarr asked, her guns never wavering.
“Yeah, I think it is,” I answered, not even trying to hide the abject disgust in my voice.
“Gross,” Tempest added and spat on the floor.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Chik-Tillo asked sweetly. “We can serve you…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Abbatina held a small electronic device in her hand and began to press a button on the top.
“Go,” I hissed to my companions as I swung the Equalizer around and shot Abbatina in the chest.
As her body fell, PoLarr’s guns barked off three shots and the Sec-Men at the door flew outside as if pulled by strings.
Tempest pulled the trigger on her shotgun, the blast like a cannon inside the saloon, but Thadeeus dodged faster than I thought the old twig looking prick could move. He leapt over the bar just before a sheet of thick plexiglass descended from the ceiling and closed the whole bar off from us like a security partition at a bank.
At the same time a thick, snot green gas poured from jets at the bottom of the bar.
“Out!” I screamed and tried to cover my mouth and nose with my jacket. PoLarr had been closest to the bar, and I saw her legs begin to buckle. I threw her arm around my shoulder as I grabbed Tempest by her collar. She pumped round after round into the plexiglass, but it did nothing more than leave black scorch marks as the shot splashed over the thick partition.
My vision began to spin, as if the whole room were tilting, but I willed my legs to keep moving forward. We were one six feet from the open doorway, but it was as if the floor had turned to mud, each footfall a force of immense effort.
Then both PoLarr and Tempest passed out and became dead weight in my arms.
I fell to my knees but still urged my lead filled legs forward. If I couldn’t walk, I’d fucking crawl goddamn it.
“Marc! Marc! Do you read me?” I heard Aurora’s panicked drawl in my comm-link as if from a dream. “We need to get out of here. They’re cannibals…”
Then her voice floated into the back corner of my brain as the saloon spun faster and faster, the walls melting into my consciousness as I passed out.
Chapter Twelve
A dull throbbing behind my eyes pulled me from the deep, black, abyss of unconsciousness. I opened my heavy lids slowly and blinked away the blurred vision that greeted me. The world was all sideways, and I realized I was on my side with my head on a cool, hard, concrete floor. I pushed off the ground into a sitting position with my back against the wall of the small room that I was in. A wave of intense nausea washed over me, and I struggled to keep from puking. The wave passed, and I rubbed my face vigorously.
I was in a small concrete cubicle that had a steel door as the only way in or out. A foot sized square barred window sat at head height in the door.
PoLarr, still passed out, lay next to me on my right. Tempest, a stream of thin bile congealed around her mouth, was on my left. Both of them were breathing steadily, which was good. My regen mod must have been able to filter the effects of whatever gas had been used on us.
I glanced down at my wrist-cron and saw that we’d been out cold for maybe twenty minutes. A quick pat down of my body revealed that I’d been relieved of all my weapons, but other than that I seemed to be in one piece. Using my arms to steady myself I pushed off the floor and got to my feet. The room spun a few times but then that passed as well. I shook the vertigo from my head and walked over to the window in the door.
There was a long, concrete hallway that our little cubicle was at the far end of. Other cubicles lined the hallway but all their doors were open. A small table sat at the other end of the hallway before a short staircase that looked like it led into the saloon. I saw all of our weapons laid out on the table. Two more Sec-Men stood guard at the base of the stairs and chatted quietly as they handled our guns.
“Convoy my ass,” one of the Sec-Men said to the other as he held PoLarr’s Equalizer in his hands. “These ain’t like no blasters I ever seen.”
“They gonna be lunch soon, so t’won’t matter
much,” the other Sec-Man responded. “Put that down before Thadeeus sees you.”
“Pussy,” the first Sec-Man grumbled but did as he was told.
Tempest groaned from behind me. I moved over to her and helped her sit up.
“Careful you don’t spew,” I warned her.
“My head feels like two hobos fucked in a shoe filled with piss,” she moaned.
“Descriptive,” I chuckled and turned to PoLarr who sat upright with a start, her hands held out in front of her as if filled with her Equalizers. It took her a moment to realize they weren’t there, and I saw the look of panic that exploded on her face. “Hey, don’t worry. Your guns are on a table down the hall.”
“Oh my god,” she croaked. “Someone donkey punched my brain.”
“Jesus, and I thought I was dirty,” I muttered and helped both of them to their feet. I motioned for them to take a look through the little window. They both shuffled back after a few seconds. “Did they get all of your weapons?”
“Yeah,” PoLarr replied unhappily. “I had two concealed boot knives, but they got those.”
“Me too,” I nodded. “Did they find the plas-ex, Tempest?”
“Nope,” the sexy alien con-man sniper grinned from ear to ear. “They sure did not.”
“Sweet,” I grinned and mentally patted myself on the back for the idea to have Tempest put the moldable high explosive clay inside the seam of her jacket. “Okay, by my watch we have a few minutes until Nova and Aurora start making a lot noise. All this concrete must be jamming our comm-link signals because I’m not getting any reception, even from you two.”
“I caught some static the closer I got to the door,” PoLarr said, “but that was about it.”
“Tempest, mold the plas-ex into the gap between the door and the frame,” I said as I inspected the steel door. “I have an idea for when we get ready to blow it. You guys may or may not like it.”
“Ohh, my interest is piqued, continue,” Tempest said as she started to roll the clay like plas-ex in the palm of her hand to make long, slender tubes that she then pushed into the doorframe.