Killer Be Killed (The Frontier Book 1)

by Travis E. Hughes

  “So you’d have to physically get to the computer at the front desk and search it?” Talbert asked.

  “Drago,” Wyatt turned to the man he now addressed. “You were higher up than I was in her ranks. Do you have the password for the front desk computer by any chance?”

  “Yeah, but don’t you think they’d have changed it?” Drago said.

  “No,” Wyatt shook his head. “She wouldn’t have imagined a scenario where you would be able to walk up and use the computer at the front desk again.”

  “And you can?” Drago asked.

  “We need some stealth,” Talbert said, lifting his hat and scratching his head.

  “We need to lure the Red Scarves away,” Wyatt said.

  “Yes, a diversion,” Talbert agreed.

  “I know,” Dogg said, raising his gloved hand. “I kill Star Belly. Cut the head of the snake clean off.”

  “It worked with your old boss, what was his name?” Talbert asked Drago.

  “Jules Divine,” Drago said with scorn. He then glanced at Dogg, who had actually pulled the trigger on his old friend and mentor.

  “Are you still sore about that, Drago?” Dogg asked. “I’d hate to go into battle with someone who’s supposed to have my back but who is still sore at me for killing a bad man.”

  “He wasn’t a bad man,” Drago said. “He was a practical man. Just like every other successful person. He was a visionary man.”

  “Okay,” Talbert interrupted. “That’s enough. You’re making me sick. Sucking the man’s balls off over there. He was a low level bully that got what was coming to him.”

  “Is that so?” Drago said, puffing his chest.

  “Enough!” yelled Wyatt, stepping between Drago and Talbert and Dogg.

  “I’m here to get Roslyn out of there,” Drago said. “If that means getting your back is what I need to do to accomplish that, then so be it. And in saving Roslyn, we’d be square, you and me.” He motioned toward Dogg, who nodded his compliance.

  “Ah, you have no idea just how pleased that makes me,” Dogg grinned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Talbert examined the structure of the hotel. He traced the roof, imagining having to climb out of one window and onto the roof. Was it possible?

  “I can burn something, yes?” Grace suggested, ripe full eagerness.

  “I say we just get this done straight forward, none of this cloak and dagger business,” Dogg said, looking around the corner. A Red Scarf crossed the thoroughfare. He seemed on high alert, glancing at everyone he passed. He then stopped and shielded his eyes to look down the road that led out of town.

  Talbert joined Dogg at the corner to scout the situation. Red Scarf smiled at something he was looking at, off in some distance. Moving to get a better view, Talbert noticed a dust cloud well beyond the last of the tents.

  “Now it’s about to become a proper sport,” Dogg said, grinning and taking a pull from his flask.

  “Shit,” Talbert said, when five hover bikes rolled up in front of Star’s Hotel. Five new Red Scarves dismounted. Their scarves were all red, but made from a different material, and were thinner and had tassels woven into the ends. Talbert wondered if this was an affiliate group of mercenaries. Perhaps a different chapter? Most, if not all of the Red Scarves looked old enough to have fought in the war. Soldiers who never stopped playing at war.

  “Well, shit,” Talbert said, slipping back behind the wall.

  “How many?” Wyatt asked.

  “Five more makes a dozen total,” Talbert said.

  “So five against twelve,” Drago said.

  “He does math too, folks,” Dogg said, pretending to clap. “Grace?”

  Talbert spun with Dogg to catch Grace slipping across the street. She ducked behind a hover water truck.

  “What in the name of Baby Elvis is that mad cap woman doing?” Dogg said, shaking his head. Suddenly her legs disappeared from the other side and her head and shoulders appeared in the cab.

  “What the hells?” asked Drago, stepping beside Wyatt to get a better view.

  Beeping indicated the water truck was backing. No one paid any attention to who was driving it. Grace turned the truck around and backed up to the door of the hotel.

  “Lukes like tonight is a wash for you, Meez Starr!” she yelled out the window and opened a hatch that spilled ten thousand gallons of water into the lobby of the hotel. She then sped away in the now empty truck. Everything in the lobby was caught up in the tsunami wave. People were taken off their feet. Furniture crashed into walls and was carried out in pieces with the retreating water. A couple of Red Scarves outside hopped on hover bikes and chased. The large truck swung from side to side as the cabin soared out of town.

  “Shit, darling,” Dogg said, watching her go. “I’m the one that’s supposed to die first.”

  “Now’s as good a time as any,” Talbert said, drawing his guns and running across the street to the hotel. As they approached Purple Scarf Ed waded out of the door, looking perplexed but angry. One-Eyed Ned and three other Red Scarves followed him out. They all drew when they realized Talbert, Dogg, Wyatt and Drago were marching toward them, guns ready. Puff flew out of laser range and watched from the top of a lamppost.

  Dogg stepped forward. He winked at Ed and drew. Ed fell first to his knees, then slightly to the right. Perhaps he was off balance, having recently lost half his skull.

  “Now, any more of you want to leave that’a way, you can stick around. I’m offering you gents one last chance to skip all this unpleasant ugliness,” Dogg said, followed by a quick cough.

  Them drawing and shooting answered that and Dogg dove behind an outhouse. This drew their attention enough that Talbert shot a Red Scarf through the neck. His Adam’s apple burst like an exploding peach.

  A laser bolt sparked into the wall next to Talbert’s head. He ducked and looked up at a second floor window. Standing in the window was Star holding Hattie at gunpoint.

  “Son-of-a-bitch, I knew this was going to happen,” Talbert grumbled. “We needed a better plan.”

  “Oh the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, Mr. Brown,” Dogg said, shooting and barely missing a Red Scarf diving out of the way. It gave his heart a sting every time Dogg called him Mr. Brown. It was the job, but the waters had become too muddied in that area.

  Ducking behind an overflowing dumpster, Talbert inched his way toward the closest Red Scarf, using the other side as his cover. He pounced. They both had the same idea, because they nearly bumped into each other. Too close for lasers, Talbert punched the large grizzled war vet in the temple. Red Scarf took it well and returned with a quick jab to Talbert’s nose. Red Scarf tried to aim his gun but Talbert grabbed his arm and they tangled. Body blow, followed by an uppercut sent Red Scarf hard against the side of the building. But Red Scarf drove at him, tackling to the ground. Talbert dropped his gun, leaving both men temporarily unarmed. Red Scarf wailed on Talbert, who could only block ninety percent of the blows; the ten percent that got through sent waves through his skull. The world became muffled.

  Talbert felt a slight shift in the man’s weight, but it was enough to spin and flip him off. Talbert was first to his feet. He kicked the merc in the chin and then stomped on his throat when he fell backward. He stomped and stomped, thinking only of Hattie and Star. Would she shoot her? It would be a dumb move. Star had to know that if she killed Hattie there was no way out of there alive for her.

  When he stopped and realized where he was, the man’s skull matched his scarf. He didn’t hesitate to analyze the corpse. He simply gathered his gun and the man’s gun, stuffing the latter in his back belt, and went back to fighting. This was war. He knew war. It tasted all too familiar.

  Wyatt got the jump on another Red Scarf and put him down from behind. Now that it was five against two, the remaining Red Scarves retreated back into the swampy lobby of the hotel.

  A loud commotion up the road turned their heads. It was Grace speeding along with the hover water
truck. Two bikes tried to flank her, but she kept swerving back and forth to shake them. They shot but missed.

  Dogg stepped into the road, aimed and shot Red Scarf off the bike on the left. The one of the right was obscured. He tried to get an aim. Talbert had a better angle and blasted the Red Scarf into a tent. People inside screamed.

  Grace wasn’t slowing down, despite losing her escort. They all jumped back as she drove it directly into the front of the hotel. She dove free of the cabin just before impact. It was a loud collision and the entire camp gathered to see what was happening. Everyone stood their distance and gawked.

  “I swear, that woman never stops amazing me,” Dogg said with a slight chuckle. The entire building lurched and the balcony collapsed. Guests sprang out of the crumbling hotel like rats from a flooded sewer. A half naked couple ran for their lives.

  While everyone else was running out, Talbert, Dogg, Drago and Wyatt ran in. Dogg told Grace to stand guard and if any Red Scarves were to run out, she was to shoot them.

  “But stay back by the parking garage, you mad little devil. You’ve been a hero enough for one day, darling,” Dogg said.

  “That was fucking awesome, right, Dogg?” Grace’s already enlarged eyes grew wider. He kissed her. She barely let go and he had to wriggle free.

  Broken columns and smashed furniture provided ample cover for them to move through the lobby toward the stairs. They pointed and nodded their heads to communicate. Talbert and Wyatt flanked the stairs. But Dogg strode calmly up them. Wyatt shook his head at Talbert. Talbert shrugged. Drago moved aside to avoid a piece of ceiling from falling on him.

  “This place is about to completely collapse,” Drago whispered. Talbert and Wyatt filed up the stairs behind Dogg. Drago stayed watch in the lobby, aiming at the stairs.

  Most of the doors were left open when people fled. There were two at the far end of the hall that were still closed. One Talbert was certain was the room Star and Hattie had been in. Roslyn must’ve been in the other. The question was, where were the seven remaining Red Scarves?

  To answer that, at least partially, a Red Scarf jumped out of a room they’d just passed and shot. He hit Wyatt in the shoulder. But Talbert spun and blasted a hole in the man’s chest.

  “I got an idea,” Talbert said, looking into the vacant room. He went to the window and poked his head out. The building had been pitched toward the front and it actually made climbing out onto the roof even easier than he’d imagined.

  “Give me about two minutes to climb over there and then kick in the door on the left,” Talbert said, dangling from the side of the building. He pulled himself onto the roof and crawled over it.

  Dogg strode to the left hand door and stood, staring up at the ceiling, as if to calculate how long it would take him to crawl the distance. Wyatt’s shoulder had been torn open. He right arm was covered in blood.

  “You may want to get that patched, partner,” Dogg said, with a gesture toward the open wound. “Go on to the parking garage. Grace’ll patch you up. She knows that stuff. She has a cauterizing spray.”

  “Not until it’s done,” Wyatt said.

  Dogg stared at him and nodded then said. “Well, I suppose he’s had ample time to scale the roof. Let fly.”

  Dogg shot a hole in the door and kicked it open. There were four Red Scarves standing at attention around Star. Star had her arm around Hattie’s neck. Her pistol pointed at her temple.

  “Now, where’s her lover boy?” Star asked. As if on cue, the window smashed and through it fell Talbert. He rolled and stood with two guns raised. Both took out Red Scarves on either side of Star and Hattie. Surrounded, Star tried to spin.

  “Scrimchi,” Talbert said to Hattie.

  “Scrim-chee,” Hattie repeated and then spun and ducked, flipping Star over her shoulder. Star fell toward the door. She shoved past Wyatt and ran toward the door on the right. Dogg killed the remaining two Red Scarves in the room and chased after Star. Talbert and Wyatt again followed in that order. Hattie found her sword on the mantle of the fireplace and followed them to the next room.

  Now standing between the bed and the wall, Star held her pistol to Roslyn’s head. The two remaining Red Scarves stood between Star, the bed and the door.

  “Stop!” Star yelled, her cries nearing hysterics. “Stop this!”

  “It’s far too late for safe words now, dear,” Dogg said followed by a cough. “I want you to realize had you simply left us to our own devices, you’d have had plenty more days left to collect from the weaker among us. But instead you had to poke the bear.”

  BOOM-BOOM! But even faster than that, the last of the Red Scarves fell. Roslyn, capitalizing on Star’s shock, snatched her gun, turned it and shot her through the side of the face. A pink mist erupted and brains splattered and dripped from the ceiling.

  “Die, you fucking bitch!” Roslyn yelled.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Roslyn opened her eyes to find she was flat on her back in a stranger’s tent. Feeling someone near, she turned to see Drago seated next to her cot. But this wasn’t her cot.

  “Good morning, Ros,” Drago said with a sad smile. Behind Drago was a stainless steel table topped with several bottles and jars, boxes and what appeared to be a tool box. She thought of Zed who’d unfolded his satchel of torture.

  There was a dull, cloudiness hanging over the world. She had to blink several times to see his face clearly. Even then, it had a melting softness to it, like it might slide off of his skull. She wanted to lift her head, but it was entirely too heavy. The best she could do was roll from side to side, and that felt arduous enough. Her mouth crackled from dryness. Her throat felt too clogged to speak.

  She heard Puff make one of his noises that meant he was about to scratch or fidget.

  “Doctor Gonzo had to operate to reset your legs,” Drago said, taking her hand. His skin was warm. His palm felt course and calloused. “Hattie and Bill are out looking for a hover chair.”

  Roslyn suddenly relived Zed’s mallet cracking her ankle in half. There was a dull ache throughout both legs. She’d repressed the memory of the second ankle’s fate. It must have happened, the lingering pain and restrictive movements of both legs suggested so, however, she couldn’t recall the details. She’d already been in shock, perhaps.

  “Where’s the doctor now?” Roslyn asked, rolling her bowling-ball head to the other side to see the door flap and a sliver of the mundane scene playing out in the thoroughfare beyond.

  “Oh, he’s two-thirds through a bottle of bug juice by now,” Drago said with a chuckle. “His robotic assistant glitched out during the procedure and he had to do it alone. Hope he didn’t leave anything inside you.”

  “You’re so funny,” she said in a soft hoarse voice. Drago turned and pulled a bottle of water out of a cooler next to his feet. He opened it and handed it to her. Scooting his chair closer to her cot, he lifted her head to help her drink. The wave of coolness that hit the back of her head made her realize her hair was wet and greasy. She fixated on his hand touching her sweaty stink. This woke the mole that tickled her throat and caused her to cough, spewing water like a geyser. Some of it hit Drago in the face.

  She was going to pass out.

  “Shit,” she said. “So sorry, dude.”

  “No,” he said using his sleeve to dry his cheek and forehead. “It’s all good. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Roslyn’s belly sank. To the rescue, Hattie and Talbert entered the tent in that order.

  “Nobody’s seen Wells Wallace since two days ago,” Talbert said, motioning for Drago to get up so he could sit. Drago shrugged, but one more thumb jerk brought him to his feet. Puff fluffed his wings from his perch on a tall cabinet.

  “How about his ship?” Roslyn asked.

  “Still in parked in the dirt lot,” Talbert said, plopping down in the chair. He put his hat on his boney knee.

  “What?” Roslyn whispered and closed her eyes.

  “I know,” Talbert grunte
d. “Don’t look too good, far as honoring that contract goes.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do now?” Roslyn asked.

  “This is where you shift your perspective,” Hattie said, interrupting their conversation behind a lacy-gloved hand. She brought it down with her next words. “The other pilots in camp are no longer contractually obligated. The market is now open.”

  “Null and void,” Talbert said, running his pinkie along the back of her lacy hand. “Problem is, folks now seem a little leery of us.”

  “Little jumpy,” Hattie echoed with a soft giggle and shrug.

  The following day, Hattie entered pushing a hover chair. The padding had been worn down by some obesity and the armrests were a bit wobbly, but Roslyn was grateful to be out of bed finally.

  They headed for the nearest casino, which was Daniel’s Jackhole. The yeasty, fungal stench of soured beer, left to evaporate in dark corners or underneath equipment, leased the warm air under the tent. They’d built a bandstand and placed a tent over it and so the floor was Da’akwood. It was a nice relief from always walking around in the mud. The place had promise, Roslyn thought. She was also keenly aware of all the eyes upon them as they moved about the game floor, looking for open seats.

  A tall man with a stovetop hat stood and offered Roslyn a place at his table. He slid aside the empty seat for her hover chair to pull in. As she did so, the man leaned down to her ear.

  “We’re all grateful to you,” said Stovetop. “On behalf of a lot of folks, thank you.”

  Roslyn nodded with large eyes, uncertain if it would be the end of it, or just the beginning. A sudden jerk of her chair brought her out of reflection.

  To preserve energy, the chair’s engine turned off as legs extended to the ground.

  “Deal you in?” asked the eager dealer in pinstripes.

  “Sure,” Roslyn said, plopping a stack of pink chips on the green velvet table.

  A drink arrived.

  “I didn’t order this,” Roslyn told the android holding the tray.