Dead Dwarves Don't Dance

by Derek J. Canyon

  The dwarf scurried to the pile of scrap and searched for his Colt. Grue, however, soon rushed back into the open. Noose picked up a heavy steel rod, a good meter in length.

  Grue laughed. “A stick? What are you gonna do with a stick, little man?”

  “Several things come to mind.”

  Grue crouched and swung out as the dwarf neared. Noose dodged the blow, sidestepped to the left, striking out with the steel bar and hitting Grue on his broken arm. The goon roared in pain and tried to catch the dwarf by pivoting quickly around. As he did so, Noose ducked low and jabbed out with the bar, hitting him in the right knee. Grue toppled forward, throwing out his left hand to catch himself. Noose swung a two-handed blow to his elbow. Grue fell flat on his face, yelling like a wounded bull.

  Noose jumped onto his back and thrust the end of the steel bar down on the goon’s neck, just below the skull. He raised his arms to repeat the attack but Grue spun face up and slapped the dwarf away. Noose slid across the floor to the base of some metal stairs.

  Grue struggled to his feet, his right leg wobbling beneath him. Blood dripped into his eyes, and he rubbed it away, looking deeper into the foundry to where the dwarf lay. He hadn’t thought that Noose would prove to be such a problem. From what he had heard, the dwarf’s expertise lay in demolitions, not in hand-to-hand combat. He was quick for a dwarf without cybernetics. Obviously, he had hidden talents.

  “Why not just stay down, Noose?” Grue asked as he limped toward the stairs. “A dwarf’s gotta know his limitations.”

  Noose pulled himself up by the railing. “I don’t have limitations.”

  “What’d you kill Munk for?” Grue growled. “You were just collateral damage. We didn’t want to hit you.”

  Noose glanced around. With all the metal debris and machinery, the area around the stairs was cramped and confined. Grue’s long arms would be able to stretch nearly all the way across the restricted area. Noose started backing up the steps.

  “You did hit me. And you hit a friend of mine. Killed her. Munk paid the price. And so will you.”

  Grue reached the bottom of the steps. “It’s biz, Noose. You should know that better than anyone.”

  “You don’t know crap about me, goon.”

  “I heard you were in Shanghai when the wars spilled over into the metroplex.” Grue started up the stairs, four steps at a time. “I heard the Peacekeeper grunts leveled whole blocks of civilian buildings.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Noose stepped onto one of the wobbly catwalks that ran like a maze below the ceiling of the foundry. Smoke drifted past from the Pioneer ten meters below. Grue followed him, and the catwalk shuddered under his weight.

  Grue lunged, extending his whole body in an all-or-nothing attack. The move caught Noose by surprise, and Grue’s long cyber-blades ripped into his jacket. The blades tore through the denim and slid harmlessly down the armor, but sliced into his unprotected leg. Blood poured from the deep cuts and Noose stumbled. He scuttled backward as Grue stood up and lumbered toward him.

  “Time to die!” Grue yelled, striking down at Noose, who flipped over backward and onto his feet. Grue’s fist instead hammered full-force into the catwalk, and the dwarf rammed the steel bar into his face. The goon stumbled and fell against the railing. The catwalk tilted sideways as Grue leaned over the side. Noose moved in on him but Grue dealt out a swift, vicious kick that sent the dwarf tumbling. The steel bar dropped to the distant floor.

  Grue stomped over to the dwarf; rusted metal squealed and vibrated in protest. He bent down and grabbed the dwarf by the neck, lifting him and holding him at arm’s length.

  “Foregone conclusion, Noose. Ain’t no runt gonna take out a goon. Maybe if you invested in some cyberware, things could’ve turned out different.”

  Noose glared at the goon through bloodied eyes. “Cyber’s for slags.”

  Grue laughed and held the dwarf over the railing. He looked at the jumble of machinery far below. “Think you can survive the fall, Noose?”

  “I’ve been through worse.”

  “Well, then we’ll just have–”

  A metal strut supporting the catwalk snapped with a loud screech. One side of the platform dropped away beneath Grue’s feet, and he jerked his good arm around to grab a support, letting go of the dwarf. Noose grabbed the catwalk and dangled.

  Grue was not so lucky. His big beefy hand wrapped around the railing but it tore away and he fell to the floor.

  Noose hung on to the swinging section of catwalk. He looked down at the goon, squirming in pain in a pile of machinery. A meter-long spike, part of some unknown mechanism, stuck up through the goon’s shoulder. Noose turned his attention back to the catwalk, and began climbing, slowly, up toward the stable section. He had traversed only a meter when the hanging portion of the catwalk broke free.

  50

  The catwalk crashed down on the pile of machinery. The mesh surface protected Noose from being skewered by the various sharp bits that dominated the building. Even so, the long fall left him shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw his Colt Wardog lying just out of reach. He rose stiffly and retrieved it before stumbling toward the goon. He pushed through a tangled mass of metal, which toppled and slid down a spillway into some distant sub-basement.

  Grue squirmed, still impaled on the ragged spike.

  “Looks like the little man won,” Noose said, moving around to stand beside the pinned mercenary.

  Grue gripped the spike with his right hand, trying to free himself, but to no avail. He looked up at the dwarf, at the gun in his hand.

  “Go ahead and do it, runt.”

  “Who was Smith working for?”

  “Screw you.”

  Noose shot Grue in the leg, adding to his collection of bullet wounds. “Wrong answer.”

  Grue laughed. “You think that peashooter is going to bother me? Dumb gimli. I’m impaled, I got a broken arm, and three or four other bullets in me. Even with all that, my pain inhibitors are still working pretty good. That 9mm ain’t gonna overload them. The only bullet I care about is the one you put in my head.”

  “I’ll put it in you right now unless you tell me who Smith was working for.”

  “Hell if I know. Smith’s the only one I ever saw. You aren’t gonna find the head honcho through me. I’m a dead end.”

  “How prophetic. For the both of you,” said an unfamiliar voice.

  Grue and Noose turned to see two men standing near the smashed doorway. Both wore green flight suits, helmets, gloves, and flak vests. Wilderness Preserve Ranger insignia glowed dimly on their uniforms. The gunship pilots. One carried a light pistol, the other an assault rifle.

  Noose turned his gun on them.

  The pistol-armed man turned to his companion. “Kill the gimli.”

  Noose fired first, but the round bounced off the rifleman’s helmet. The return fire ripped into Noose’s chest and legs. He fell backward, disappearing down the spillway.

  The rifleman ran up and looked down into the hole.

  “He must have slid down to a lower level.”

  “Forget him,” the other replied, pointing at Grue. “This is the primary target.”

  “That dwarf sure messed him up. Look at all that blood.”

  “Where are the cashcards, Grue?” The other asked. Their faces were hidden behind the opaque visors on their helmets.

  Grue’s brow wrinkled. “You ain’t Rangers.”

  “You got that right,” the rifleman said. “I’d never join that pansy-ass squad of tree-hugging outback losers. It’s bad enough that I had to wear this clown suit while we hunted you down.”

  Grue leaned his head back. “Great. More police impostors. How do they keep finding you guys? Is there a Fake-Cops-R-Us store, or something?”

  “Laugh all you want,” the rifleman said. “You never had a chance. Whoever wants you, wants you bad. They’re pulling the strings with the Rangers and Reggies. Why do you think the real cops haven’t caught
up with you yet? Someone doesn’t want you arrested.”

  “Shut up,” the other one said, then turned to Grue. “Where are your two friends? The pleaser and Munk.”

  Grue clamped his mouth shut.

  “If you cooperate, we won’t have to torture you.”

  “Get out the bamboo shoots.”

  “We don’t need his help to find them,” the rifleman said. “Let’s get back in the chopper. That pleaser can’t be far.”

  “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands.”

  “We found you.”

  “Sheer luck, breeder,” Grue replied. “We’ve dodged you for days, ever since Smith double-crossed us.”

  “You stupid goon, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. We’ve had you under surveillance since you pulled the hit.”

  “Bull.”

  “Hardly,” the man chuckled. “How do you think you managed to get out of Atlanta? They let you out. The Reggies got orders to let you pass unmolested.”

  “Orders from who?”

  “How the hell should we know?” The rifleman said. “You know how it works. Ain’t no fixer gonna leak the big man.”

  “Why would the big man let us leave the plex?”

  “So we can kill you nice and quiet far away. We can bury you out here with no fuss. The media will never know what really happened.”

  “Quit talking, you bonehead,” the man with the pistol raised his voice. “Where are Earless and Munk?”

  “Mars, I think. Partying with Anastasia Carpone.”

  “Listen, Grue, I’m going to ask you two more times, then I’m going to have my friend here empty his magazine into that sorry excuse for a brain. Where are Earless and Munk?”

  “Sesame Street.”

  The man shook his head. “Last chance, freak. Where are they?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. In fact, I think I can see them now. They’re crawling out of your fat ass.”

  “Kill him.”

  The rifleman raised his weapon and a shot rang out. He stumbled forward, blood spurting from a wound in his neck. He grabbed at his throat, slipping to his knees and over onto his side.

  The other man crouched and spun around, scanning the confusion of machinery. Gunfire rattled around him and ricocheted off his helmet and flak vest. He moved behind cover and fired off a few rounds, though he did not have a target. Unfortunately, he crouched within Grue’s long reach. The goon struck out and the long blades on the back of his hand ripped through the man’s groin and into his gut. A pathetic gurgle escaped the man’s lips, along with a spurt of thick blood, before he collapsed in a squirming pile.

  “Earless!” Grue yelled, still unable to free himself. “Is that you?”

  No one responded. Grue waited.

  Moments later, Noose crawled into view and made his way to the dying man. He removed the flight helmet, and looked into the pale face and dilated eyes.

  “Who’s your fixer?” the dwarf demanded.

  “You…you’re not dead…?” the man gurgled, blood foaming in his mouth.

  “No thanks to you,” Noose growled. “Who do you work for?”

  “Don’t…matter…you’ll be dead…soon…never get away…”

  Noose shook the man by his shoulders. “Tell me!”

  The man convulsed, coughed, and died.

  The dwarf crawled away and pressed a rag to one of the bullet wounds in his legs. He looked over at Grue.

  “Don’t ask me,” the goon said. “I don’t have any idea who these guys are, or who they’re working for.”

  “You should want to. They want you dead.”

  “Thanks for the newsflash. But you’ll take care of that for them soon enough.”

  “Yeah.” Noose looked down at the Colt in his hand. “I could…”

  “So why don’t you?”

  Noose did not answer for several seconds. “You’re my last link. If I kill you, I won’t have any chance of finding out who’s behind this. And…”

  “And what?”

  “And your former boss wants you dead. By killing you I’d just do their dirty work. If he wants you dead, there must be a reason.”

  “Yeah, they want me dead because I know less than squat. Smith never clued us to his employer. Sorry, Noose. I’m just a loose end, nothing more. Except for the ten million.”

  “You still have it?”

  “Not likely,” Grue sighed. “It was in the Pioneer with Earless.”

  “Where is Earless?”

  “How the hell should I know? Wasn’t she in the cab when it blew?”

  “She’s not there now.”

  “I’m right here,” Earless said. Noose turned around, and saw Earless standing a few meters away pointing an SMG at him. The money case rested on the ground next to her.

  “What did I miss?” the pleaser asked, tilting her head. Her blonde hair, most of it burnt away, draped messily across her smudged face.

  “Where have you been?” Grue demanded.

  “Around. Looks like you two just fought world war four.”

  Noose lifted his gun hand, but Earless raised her own and shook her head. “Drop it, gimli.”

  Noose tossed the Colt at her feet.

  “Shall I kill him before I get you out of here?”

  Grue did not reply, looking over at Noose. The dwarf merely glared back.

  “Well?” Earless asked.

  “No.”

  “What? He’ll be after us again. This runt never gives up.”

  “Neither will the asshole that sent those hitters.” Grue pointed at the two dead fake Rangers.

  “So, let’s get out of here.”

  Grue shook his head. “Won’t do any good. They’ll come after us wherever we go. We’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”

  “Running with ten megacreds doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

  “That’s because you’re stoked on turbo. When you come down you won’t want to think about someone hunting you every minute of the day.”

  “With ten megs I don’t never need to come down.”

  “When they put a bullet in the back your empty head, you’ll come down.”

  Earless threw up her hands and sat down on the charred case beside her. “So, I should go after them and let them put a bullet in the front of my empty head?”

  “No. You should help me off of this damn spike! Then we’ll go back to Atlanta and end this once and for all.”

  Earless shook her head and made no move to aid the goon. “We got absolutely no place to start. It’s a needle in a haystack.”

  “We got these hitters here,” Noose interjected, pointing at the cooling bodies. “We identify them, we’ll be closer.”

  “Who’s we, gimli?” Earless pointed the gun at him again.

  “Put the gun away, Earless,” Grue ordered. “We need all the help we can get.”

  “He killed Munk!” the woman sputtered, jumping to her feet. “And when he’s finished with us, we’ll get blown away, too!”

  Grue looked over at the dwarf, then back to Earless. “We all pay the price for being in the biz, Earless. Sooner or later. And if we don’t end this, the mystery man behind it all will end us.”

  “So, we’re going to team up with a dirt-eating, stunted runt dwarf gimli that just a few minutes ago shot you up and already killed Munk?”

  “You started the shooting, beanpole,” Noose said.

  “And I’ll end it!” Earless walked over and held her gun to his head. “So shut up! This is between me and Grue!”

  “Earless!” Grue yelled. “This is getting us nowhere. You’ve got two choices. So make up your mind now. Either help me off this spike and we’ll go back to Atlanta, or fade with the creds all by your lonesome.”

  Earless didn’t reply.

  “And if you think you’ll get far alone, pumped on turbo, you’re wrong. Without me, you’ll be dead inside forty-eight hours.”

  Earless walked over to Grue, knelt beside him, and whispered. “You wouldn’
t turn against me for this dwarf, would you, Grue? We’re friends.”

  “Yeah, we’re friends. Have been for a long time. But I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

  “You really think we’ll never be able to get away?”

  Grue shook his head and frowned.

  “Can we trust the dwarf?”

  “As much as we can trust anyone except each other.”

  “That’s not very good.”

  “You take what you can get.”

  She jumped up, and danced around over to the dwarf. “Okay, gimli! We’ll take you in! For some idiot reason, Grue wants you to replace the guy you murdered. Dead Munks don’t dance, I guess. Go figure!”

  “Noose,” Grue said, “there’s one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “After this is all said and done, and if we come out of it alive, you let us go. No more retribution.”

  Noose grimaced.

  “That’s the price, Noose. We all have to pay the price of the biz.”

  Noose nodded and whispered, “We all have to pay the price…”

  51

  Cori turned the rented SUV down the gravel road leading into the long-abandoned flint quarries near Meredith Lake. She frowned, remembering Noose’s refusal to give her any information about what had happened. All he’d told her was to meet him at the quarries, packed and ready to return to Atlanta. He would not explain what was going on, but she could piece enough of it together from the news reports she’d been monitoring.

  Apparently, a fuel station on IR-287 near Amarillo had blown up and a group of unidentified gunmen had escaped from Wilderness Preserve Rangers. Still at large, the suspects were described as a goon and a pleaser. A hastily erected roadblock hadn’t found them, and now the Rangers scoured the countryside, abandoned towns, and defunct factories that dotted the wilderness.

  Before leaving the hotel and renting the SUV, Cori hacked a few more details. A Rolls Royce Grand Safari had been disabled at the station and a corpse had been found there, matching Munk’s description. Lastly, an unidentified dwarf had rescued someone from a burning building at the station.

  Cori smiled. Even if the terse dwarf wouldn’t tell her, she could still add two and two. Noose caught up with the assassins at the fuel station, killed Munk, and then chased Grue and Earless from the scene. And since Noose wanted to meet her ninety kilometers away for the return trip to Atlanta, he must have killed Grue and Earless, too. Hopefully, he’d been able to drag out the name of the person ultimately responsible for the Stiltzkin’s hit from one of the three assassins.