“Wait!”
Barnaby came huffing and puffing up, holding his side.
“I thought you wanted to get rid of me,” Drake grinned.
“Varish gave you something,” he wheezed, leaning heavily on his knees. “Hand it over.”
He stiffened. “What if he did? Why is it your business?”
“Just give it to me.”
“I’m not giving you anything.”
Barnaby took a moment longer to catch his breath, then stood up straight. “Look, Drake. If you don’t give up whatever it was he gave you, I have orders to take you in.”
Barnaby had never called him by his name before. Drake raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what’s on it?”
“No,” he admitted. “All I know is that he gave you something. And they want it.”
“Who wants it? Who’s they?”
“Don’t give me a hard time, hawker. Think about it for a second. Someone was able to tap into our cameras, and they saw Varish give you something. Anyone who can do that isn’t someone to mess around with.”
Barnaby had a point. And he could see the fear in the man's eyes. It made Drake pause to rethink his assessment of his runner. Maybe Varish wasn’t just some conspiracy nut with delusions of grandeur after all. On the other hand, this latest fuss might still be over nothing more important than an embarrassing video. A noble would certainly have the means to break into the surveillance system at some outer province sheriff’s office. Whatever the case, Drake was not prepared to become a runner himself over the matter.
“If they want it so badly, I guess you can give it to them” he said, fishing the holorecording from his pocket. He held it up for a tantalizing moment, then dropped it on the ground.
Before Barnaby could react, Drake brought the heel of his boot down hard. There was a sharp pop and a flash of blue light as the sphere shattered.
Barnaby stared down, mouth agape.
“That should settle things nicely,” Drake added. He opened Cal’s door and slid into the seat.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Barnaby told him. “These people will kill you.”
He grinned. “Why? The runner never told me what was on the recording. And seeing as how I no longer have what he gave me, I doubt they'll be interested enough to bother.”
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Barnaby knelt to scoop up the broken bits.
“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment.”
Barnaby cradled the remains of the sphere in his palm. “Do yourself a favor, hawker. Find somewhere to hide.”
Drake closed the door and fired the engine. Hide? Not a chance. Not until he’d collected his bounty. That much was definitely going to happen, no matter who might be angered by him smashing the holorecording. If they’d tapped into the video, they would know that Varish hadn’t told him anything that hadn’t already been said a hundred times before by the conspiracy nuts. They would also know that he didn’t believe the man anyway.
Varish’s son should be pretty safe now as well. Without the recording in his possession, what difference would it make if they knew where to find him? Drake was saved an extra journey too. The only reason he would have had for going was now a useless clump of broken crystal.
He pointed Cal east and pressed the accelerator. Time to collect. Time to move on. The magistrate had authorized the bounty, which meant that Varish must have broken the law. Whatever happened to him was his own fault.
No reason to feel guilty, Drake told himself. None at all.
But the trouble was, he did. Nearly every time. And this one in particular…there was something about Varish that told him the man didn’t deserve his fate. He pushed Cal faster. Cal could outrun almost anything. But no matter how fast he went, he could not outrun his conscience. And lately it was bothering him more and more. A growl of frustration slipped out.
I can’t start getting weak. Not now. This is my life. Just deal with it.
But could he? And for how long? The ruined landscape flew by in a blur as he fixed his eyes on the horizon. Beyond that, there was no hope. Nothing he could look forward to. Just day after day of the same. This was what kept people in despair – the sheer hopelessness of life in Vale.
When he was first exiled, he would drive through the inner provinces and gaze up at the city of Troi, trying to imagine what his friends were doing at that moment. He would picture Lenora in his mind and pretend that she was waiting for his return. He’d still had hope then.
When did he finally lose it?
He had stopped going to see Troi after the first year, about the same time that he’d decided to become a hawker. Was it then? No. It was later. Shortly after his first kill. He could still see the man’s wife slumped beside the body, pounding her fists into the ground until blood ran freely from her knuckles. He could still hear her cries and the curses she threw at him. Since then he had killed many more men, but it was in that moment that hope had deserted him.
He pushed Cal to one hundred sixty. He might never be able to outrun his demons…but he could sure as hell try.
Did you enjoy this story? It is only the beginning. Coming March 20th you can read The Vale: Behind the Vale, and discover more. Click the links below to follow me on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, and on my blog.
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The Runner (From the World of The Vale) Page 5