Bounty Hunter: Dig Two Graves

by Rachel Aukes

  “Nope. Can’t say I do,” he said, and headed back onto the walkway.

  “It looks like the murcs are clearing each level as they work their way down. That’s good for us since the safe rooms are on the lowest levels,” Val said, breathing heavily.

  “Whoa. Hold up there,” Joe said as he peered over the railing. The Z-team had landed on the walkway below and were standing outside a door.

  “That’s a locked room,” Val said. “I don’t know what’s in there.”

  One soldier held a tablet over the panel by the door. Colors and words flashed on the screen, but Joe couldn’t make anything out from that distance. Either satisfied with what he saw, or realizing he couldn’t get in, the soldier backed away and tucked the tablet into his armor.

  A refugee came running toward them, crying, “Please help me! There’re murcs back there!”

  A soldier raised his blaster and shot the refugee between the eyes.

  Joe jerked back.

  “Son of a… That’s not very nice,” Rex muttered.

  Val stood frozen. “They shot a refugee.”

  Joe squeezed her shoulder. “We need to move. There are more down there who need us.”

  The Z-team looked up at the trio before they stepped off the walkway and dropped several feet before their jet packs activated, and they ascended.

  Rex aimed his rifle at them.

  “No, Rex,” Joe said.

  “He’s right. We have to clear the silo first,” Val said coldly, and started working her way down the walkway once again.

  When the Z-team rose past them, Joe glared at them, even though he knew they couldn’t see through his helmet. He turned away and focused on hunting down the silo’s invaders, trying to push the Z-team out of his mind. But the mental image of the soldier in a brown exoshield killing a refugee in cold blood kept snapping through his mind.

  Fortunately, killing murcs took his mind off the Z-team. The murc squads had broken into pairs in the lower levels, likely because they’d encountered only refugees after the Z-team cleared out.

  When they reached the lowest level, four murcs had set up an ambush. They’d likely expected refugees—they got hunters instead. The first shots deflected off Rex’s helmet, and he growled. He ran at the soldiers, firing his rifle and screaming a battle cry. The murcs, who’d been tucked in behind an overturned table, were surprised by the suicidal maniac, broke cover, and tried to run. Joe and Val fired twice each.

  Four shots, four dead murcs.

  Rex walked back, clutching his left shoulder. “Ow. I think one went through.”

  Val moved his hand to examine his injury. “What were you thinking, running into blaster fire like that?”

  “Can’t say I was,” he said. “I guess I just got caught up in the moment.”

  She shook her head. “You’re lucky. The shot didn’t penetrate. You’ll just have a burn.”

  “You sure? Because it hurts a lot.”

  “I’m sure.” She walked away, slowed, then took off at a run.

  “Wait up!” Joe ran after her.

  Then he saw what she’d seen, and he raced to catch up. At the end of the walkway stood Kit before a closed door. He held a bloody sword, and two dead murcs lay at his feet. He was pale, sweating, and looked about ready to collapse.

  On noticing them, Kit asked, “Is that the last of them?”

  “That’s the last of them,” Val said.

  Kit turned and touched an intercom button on the panel. “It’s safe. You can come out now.”

  The door behind him opened, and a timid, wide-eyed refugee crept out. Behind him were at least thirty more.

  Val tucked her arm under Kit’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”

  “No, just…worn out,” he said, and settled much of his weight on her.

  Joe took Kit’s sword and gingerly slid his arm under his friend’s other shoulder since he knew Kit’s right side was still healing. Kit’s lack of reaction spoke to how exhausted he was. “You can rest now, Kit. We’ve got you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Renzo watched the Z-borgs via their helmet feeds as they made their way to the silo’s command center. They were operating as expected, though he made notes for additional programming for reaction parameters for non-combatants as well as for allies. On three occasions, members of the Z-team detoured from their assigned routes to take out enemy targets who were not posing a threat. By doing so, they saved non-combatants, as well as a bounty hunter, by eliminating the murcs. However, that was not their mission. They were to take out murcs who interfered with their mission to verify the integrity of the secure Zenith room. No secondary objectives were assigned. There was no benefit to Zenith in saving those people—refugees or hunters.

  One Z-borg had shown superior response acuity and eliminated a non-combatant who interfered with the mission objective. He would add a commendation to that unit’s record.

  Missions like this were helpful for adjusting the Z-borg programming. The last thing Renzo needed was glitches causing problems when Zenith launched their public campaign. He checked the video feeds in the operations room, relying on his artificial eye to scan the images faster than his natural eye could manage. Most of the video was helmet feeds, but several screens were drone video feeds. Twelve drones were currently in operation in the Midlands.

  One drone tracked Commander Vane and two bounty hunters as they cleared the silo of MRC invaders. Both hunters wore older model exoshields, with one resembling the armor worn by the soldier who’d tried to kill him in the Revolution. The ID boxes in the corner of the screen populated with the names of the two individuals statistically likely to be in the exoshields. Both were hunters from the Cavil area, and he remembered a recent drone update in Cavil.

  “Are we still monitoring the two POIs in Cavil?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the specialist sitting in front of him replied.

  Those two children had slipped his mind, what with all the activity in his silo. “Assign that drone kill orders for both.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sara Swinton was scrubbing Grundy’s disgustingly filthy stone floor when the shooting began. Champ barked wildly.

  “Hide!” she screamed and lunged for the blaster she’d propped against a chair.

  She heard scrambling footfalls, but didn’t look to make sure the kids made it to Grundy’s closet—a closet they’d discovered had a false wall behind which they could hide. She heard a door slam shut, and Champ’s barks were cut off.

  She spun toward the sound of the laser fire, which seemed focused on the front door. A large circle of sizzling paint had appeared in the center of the door. As she watched, pinprick holes opened in the metal, and tendrils of smoke curled upward. The home had no windows, and her attackers had no problems identifying the door as the weak point.

  Sara slipped behind one of the tiny house’s support beams and leveled her blaster at the circle in the center of the door. The pinpricks were joining, and very little metal held the door together. Her muscles were so tight she trembled, and she held her finger off the trigger out of fear of shooting too soon and giving away any element of surprise.

  She had no clue how they’d found her, or even who they were. Was it Sloan’s murcs or Zenith? She swallowed, suspecting she’d have an answer in another second.

  The circle fell inward and landed on the floor with a thud. A nearly flat, round, black thing floated in through the opening. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it wasn’t friendly, so she fired off a succession of shots. Most missed, but she scored a couple of direct hits. Her shots knocked it around, but it stabilized and resumed its forward movement. It had a blaster barrel near its front, not that a disc has a “front” per se, and a red beam emitting from its underside appeared to be scanning the room. It didn’t shoot at her, which meant it was searching for someone else.

  The children.

  It was Zenith, then. She shot it again, sending it tumbling through the air, but t
he blaster fire didn’t seem to damage it. With every hit, it simply stabilized and continued scanning. Frightened and angry that she couldn’t stop it from finding the kids, she grabbed a chair. It took much of her strength to lift it, but adrenaline assisted her, and she swung it around.

  But before she could throw it, an ear-shattering blast slammed the drone against a wall. It clanged to the floor, peppered with holes, and the red light went out.

  “Woo! Drone, zero. Thor, one!”

  She spun around to see a teenager pointing what she believed to be a shotgun barrel through the hole in the door. She gaped, then dropped her blaster and held out her hands. “Please don’t shoot!”

  “Why would I do that?” The teen waved a hand in her direction. “Hey, lady. That drone’s mine. I shot it down, so it’s mine. Got it?”

  “Oh, of course.” She gulped, moving as slowly as she could manage. “I’m going to pick up my blaster now. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure, fine.”

  She reclaimed her weapon and went to open the door. The teenager entered, with four more behind him. They were dirty and rough-looking, and every single one of them was armed. Suddenly worried she’d invited a new threat into her home, she stiffened.

  The first teen waved her off. “Relax, lady. We’re not here to hurt ya. We’re just getting in a little target practice.”

  She didn’t relax while the kids examined the drone. She had to force herself not to look at the closet, hoping the children stayed hidden.

  “I’ve never seen a drone like this before,” one teen said.

  “I have,” the leader replied. “They’re starting to show up more and more often. Mr. Law pays double for these.” He pulled a mini tablet from his pocket, and Sara watched as he placed a call. He held the tablet to his ear as he spoke, so Sara couldn’t hear the voice on the other end.

  “Hey, Mr. Law. This is Thor. I took out one of those Z-drones… Yep, in Far Town, on Third Street… Uh huh, yeah… It was after this lady in her house… Yeah, I’m in the house, so just ping my tablet for the address…” The teenager looked at Sara as he spoke next. “Sure thing.”

  He lowered the tablet. “Mr. Law wants to talk to you.”

  She held out her hand for the tablet, but he shook his head. “He wants to talk to you in person.”

  Chapter Forty

  Joe, Rex, and Val watched the Z-team depart on their hovership.

  “They didn’t even stick around for a beer,” Rex grumbled. “But they probably know I would’ve shot them if they’d stayed. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with killing. I do it for a living. It’s killing people just for the heck of it that gets my hair ruffled.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you shot them. In fact, I would’ve helped,” Joe said.

  The hunter looked horrified. “Stop that. It freaks me out when we think alike.”

  Joe slapped Rex on the shoulder.

  “Ow! My wound,” Rex exclaimed.

  Joe winced. “Oh, sorry about that, partner.”

  When the hovership disappeared beyond the horizon, Val turned to them. “Well, I think I’d better check on Kit.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Joe said.

  “And I’d better check on Beatrice,” Rex said, and headed in the other direction.

  “Who’s Beatrice?” Val asked.

  “That’s his cutter, and I’d bet money he’s going there to take a nap,” Joe said.

  The pair returned to the silo, where refugees were still coming out of hiding. A number of them were at work clearing the surface, after Val had announced the area was cleared of murcs. It seemed Sloan had suffered enough losses for one day.

  Joe noticed how the refugees hadn’t yet acquired the pale skin of those who’d lived their entire lives underground. They toiled in the hot sun, clearing debris and laying out materials to build temporary walkways and stairs.

  A ladder had been hastily installed, and they took it down to where the walkway had been repaired enough to be functional. With the elevators offline and the silo on emergency power, they walked down a dozen floors on the silo’s spiraling walkway. Along the way, they passed a cafeteria where the dead were laid out, and Val slowed.

  “We lost some today, but it could’ve been a lot worse,” Joe offered.

  “I know, but I don’t think that’s all of them. There are still several people missing, like Grundy, and I fear the worst.”

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

  She said nothing else, and they made their way to the residence Kit had taken. Inside, Joe removed his helmet. Kit was on the bed, but was reading a tablet instead of sleeping. Kit would be reading a book, as he always did after a battle. Joe suspected Kit didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts on those occasions and tried to escape into a fictional world.

  Kit set down the tablet and pushed himself into a seated position when the pair entered.

  “How are you doing?” Joe asked.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m just sore from overworking my healing bones.”

  “You saved over thirty lives today,” Val said. “If you hadn’t been there, those murcs would’ve gunned down all those refugees hiding in that safe room.”

  Kit shrugged it off. “I didn’t do it all. Grundy bought us time by collapsing the entrance.” His eyes went soft. “He died a hero.”

  She chuckled, though Joe could tell her eyes were wet. “That old coot said he was the sort that would never be a hero, but he never fooled me.”

  “I’d offer a whiskey so we could have a drink in his memory, but this room didn’t come stocked, so we’ll have to toast Grundy later,” Kit said.

  “We will,” Val said.

  Kit’s brow furrowed. “I don’t suppose you two saw those soldiers in brown exoshields flying around the silo earlier? One of them saved my life, I think.”

  Joe shared a glance with Val, and she replied, speaking like there was a bad taste in her mouth. “It was a Z-team. Short for Zenith-team.”

  “Zenith…hmm,” Kit murmured.

  “They disabled the tank, which made a big difference in us retaking the silo,” she said.

  “Anything they did was to help themselves, not us,” Joe said, remembering the refugee who’d been murdered.

  “I don’t doubt that,” Val said as she rubbed her neck.

  “Let me get this straight,” Kit said. “There was an armed Zenith team running around killing murcs—”

  “I wouldn’t say that. From what I saw, they only killed murcs who were in their way,” Joe clarified. “I don’t think they were here to hunt murcs.”

  “Okay, so these guys weren’t here to help us, but they didn’t hurt us either. Do you think they’d consider helping us take down Sloan if we make them the right kind of offer? Assuming we can even figure out how to contact them,” Kit said.

  Val shook her head. “No. It’s best to leave Zenith to themselves.”

  Kit sighed. “I’m glad you said that. The idea of working with a Zenith soldier makes my trigger finger itchy.”

  “But we do need to figure out something,” Joe said. “My cover’s blown. Coming back alone after one attack is luck; after two is suspicious. We’re going to need a new plan, and we’re going to need it fast, because we’re going to have to worry about the whole MRC—not just Sloan—after taking out two of their tanks.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Val stood before the sealed room that the Z-team had descended into the depths of the silo to protect. She’d seen them scan the panel to make sure it was still locked, and then they’d left. If the content of that room was so important, why hadn’t they retrieved it or destroyed it to prevent it from falling into the MRC’s hands? Why had they left whatever it was behind?

  This door was different from the usual silo doors. It looked thicker, heavier, and had no window. The panel was different, too. Where the panels posted at other doors were linked to the silo security system, this panel seemed not t
o have power. She’d assumed it was dead until the Z-borg scanned it, and it flashed to life. So it wasn’t dead; it was merely in some kind of sleep mode. The Z-borg had entered a command, and it’d gone dark again.

  And now here she was, running her hand over it with no results.

  She tapped the screen, nothing. She pulled out a small tablet and tethered it to the plug at the bottom of the panel. The screen flashed red, then blanked out again. She cycled through several more commands on the administrative tablet, and each time the screen on the wall flashed red, only to go blank a second later.

  Her armlet chimed. When she saw the number, she yanked the tether from the panel and braced herself. She tucked the tablet back into her pocket and accepted the call.

  “What are you up to, Commander?” Renzo asked, but his image was hidden—a dark, shrouded humanoid head.

  She bristled. “I’m conducting a walk-through to make sure everything’s secure in the silo after we were attacked.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be what you’re doing. What it looks like is you’re attempting to gain entry to a room you’re not authorized to access.”

  “I saw the Z-team here. I wanted to make sure this room doesn’t pose a risk to the residents.”

  “That’s not why you were trying to gain entry. Curiosity killed the cat, Commander. Don’t let it kill you, too.”

  She clenched her hands into fists.

  When she didn’t reply, Renzo continued, “Now that I know you’ve lied to me about your interest in that room, I’m beginning to wonder what other lies you’ve told me. Tell me something, Commander. Did you terminate those two targets?”

  “Of course, Commander,” she replied, suddenly worried that Renzo knew more than he was letting on, and hoping her concern was paranoia rather than valid. She wished she could see his face to search it for any telltale signs that he was testing her, but she also knew Renzo was too smart to reveal his true thoughts. “I carried out your order within three hours of receiving it.”