by Craig Zerf
‘If you allow me, sir,’ interrupted the shopkeep.
Nathaniel handed it back and the man unclipped the back of the stock. ‘If you take a look here, sir. There is where the compressed air goes.’ He unscrewed the cylinder and slid it out. ‘As you can see, this is the first rifle with a replaceable compressed air cylinder. So you can charge a spare, ready for a quick change. Fifteen shots per canister ranged out to two hundred yards. A thirty round magazine. So you get a full thirty shots if you use the spare. Three times more firepower than anything else on the market. Both cylinders have already been pre-charged.’
‘Cool,’ responded Nate. ‘What about sidearms?’
The keep opened a locked drawer and took out a matched pair of handguns. They came with a double holstered leather rig, designed to sling low like a gunfighter, ready for a quick draw. ‘The new Wesson Bothers double barreled Peacekeepers. Similar to the last model except for the extra barrel, so you get two shots instead of one. Also fifty caliber. Pre-charged.’
‘How much for the lot?’
The shopkeep wrinkled his nose in thought. ‘I reckon I can do it for twenty-five gold units.’
‘Not going to happen,’ responded Nathaniel. ‘Let’s try another figure that involves some semblance of reality.’
‘I don’t have much leeway, sir,’ whined the owner. ‘Them’s mighty expensive weapons.’
‘Fifteen units,’ countered Nate.
The keep shook his head.
‘Tell you what,’ continued the marine. ‘Twenty gold units and you chuck in an air-pump for the PCP as well as a couple of hundred fifty caliber balls.’
Nathaniel counted out thirty gold units and stacked them on the counter in front of the shopkeeper.
With a nod the man leant forward and scooped the units up. ‘Fine. Done.’
He took four cartons of fifty caliber balls out of a drawer and handed it to Nate. The marine put the holster rig on, belting it tight and slotting the two Wesson pistols in. He opened the cartons of balls and poured them into the four pouches on the front of the belt. Then he swung the rifle sling over his shoulder and slipped the extra canister into his one jacket pocket and the air-pump into the other.
Leon and Brett also gathered up their weapons. Leon slung his massive crossbow across his back and Brett’s blades disappeared under her cloak, the only visible weapon being the tip of the saber that peeked out from beneath the hem of her garment.
‘Right, Marines,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Let’s go get some horses.’
‘Marines?’ Questioned Leon and Brett together.
‘Marines,’ affirmed Master Sergeant Nathaniel Hogan. ‘Hoo-ah.’
The two new recruits grinned and called out the marine battle cry together.
‘Hoo-ah!’
Chapter 10
Nathaniel had spent all of his money. Almost fifty gold units. In return he had completely kitted out his new friends and himself. They had weapons, clothing, camping gear, a compass, a telescope, food for themselves and large bags of food for the horses. The only discernable difference between their food and that for the horses appeared to be the addition of lime flour, that was claimed to strengthen the horse’s bones and teeth.
He had shelled out ten gold units for three horses. Only two of them were being ridden. Nate had a large chestnut stallion. Brett had chosen a sprightly gray mare with distinct Arabian ancestry. Leon’s horse was a large charger and it was carrying most of the equipment and food.
Leon did not deign to ride, claiming that, not only was he faster and more agile than a horse, he was also blessed with superior stamina and strength. But he was happy for his horse to carry equipment, as he refused to be a pack animal.
Following Brett’s recommendation, they had joined a trading caravan, consisting of humans and horse drawn wagons, which were traveling across the Badlands to the nearby human town of Verona. There were approximately sixty wagons in the train.
The settlement was surrounded by a small Eucalyptus forest, one of the few wooded areas that had survived the Chem-wars, and was thus the center of the Eucalyptus industry. The trees were harvested for both their wood and their pungent oils. These oils formed the base for medicines that were used to treat the respiratory diseases that were rife amongst those who lived in the fetid air of the citadels.
The caravan was already protected by ten Shieldmen but they were more than happy to accept the arrival of the Hammerman and his troops. Particularly because Hammermen were customarily not allowed to charge for their protection. They were expected to garner their payment from the actual demise of any Untouchables that they came across, as opposed to charging a daily fee like the Shieldmen.
Nathaniel had placed himself and his two compatriots at the rear of the wagon train and they were traveling at a fast walk.
‘So,’ said Leon. ‘Now that we’re all settled, there’s something that I’ve been meaning to ask. What the hell is a marine?’
Nate scowled as he searched his scant buffet of memories.
Parris Island. Men in olive camouflage.
‘A group of soldiers that I once fought with,’ he said hesitantly.
Semper Fidelis – Always Faithful.
‘Very good soldiers,’ he continued. ‘An elite force.’
Firing a squad support weapon, the belt fed machine gun shuddering in his hands, brass cases spewing from the side like metal hail. And riding a horse, wearing a kilt, thousands of mounted men galloping behind him.
He shook his head as the incongruous mix of recollection disoriented him.
‘Are you alright?’ Asked Brett.
‘Sure,’ replied the marine. ‘Just remembering stuff. But it doesn’t make much sense.’
‘Don’t push it,’ advised Brett. ‘It’ll come back to you or it won’t. Don’t stress about it.’
Nate shrugged and concentrated on scanning his surrounds.
They rode on in silence for the next couple of hours and the rest of the merchants and the Shieldmen gave them a wide berth. But when Brett spurred her horse slightly ahead of Nate and Leon, one of the younger men rode over to her and struck up a conversation. He left after a few minutes to be replaced by another as they literally queued up to vie for a piece of her attention.
Nate listened to her with wry amusement as she trotted out story after story, all of which he suspected were total fabrication.
To one potential suitor, she was the daughter of an airship captain and had been kicked out of her house by a wicked stepmother. To another, she was a rich heiress who had to achieve a series of quests before her inheritance could be released to her. One of the quests was to kill an Untouchable in single combat, thus her presence on the trip. Eventually Nate stopped listening as her bouquet of tales grew longer and more obscure.
That night, after the caravan had stopped and placed sentries and Nathaniel had set a campfire, he asked Brett why she had sprouted such a litany of lies to the men who had approached her.
‘What’s my real life to them?’ She observed. ‘I can’t remember my parents. I was brought up in an orphanage in the citadel of Newleans. When I turned fourteen, the age of casting-out, I had to leave the citadel as no one chose me for apprenticeship or service. So I was given five steel units and told to go. Highman law. I survived, but who wants to hear about that? So, I invent a more interesting life. Less crappy than the reality. Makes for a better story.’
‘So you get left to your own devises at fourteen,’ observed Nate. ‘That’s pretty harsh. Couldn’t they simply let people stay on at the orphanage for a bit longer?’
Brett shrugged. ‘Tell the truth, I was quite happy to leave. It was more of a workhouse than an orphanage, Sixteen hour days doing manual labor, scant rations and many of the kids were constantly molested.’
Nate stared at her without saying anything, his eyes conveying the unspoken question.
‘Not me,’ she said. ‘I hid at nights, in the roof spaces, only came down in the day to work and eat. Also, I dressed a
s a boy. So, anyway, being cast out was a blessing really.’
‘Oh well, the blows that do not break us and so on,’ interjected Leon. ‘So, Nate, do you reckon that we should we set a watch?’
Nathaniel shook his head. ‘No need, the Shieldmen and the merchants have placed more than enough sentries, we’re in the middle of an open plain so it’ll be pretty much impossible to sneak up on us. We’ve got another couple of days and nights on the road and who knows what we could come up against, so let’s use the opportunity to get some sleep.’
Chapter 11
It was late in the afternoon of the second day when the caravan approached the outskirts of the Eucalyptus forest. The rest of the trip to Verona would take place via the trail that cut its way through the towering evergreens.
Nathaniel beckoned to Leon who jogged over to his side.
‘I’m not happy,’ stated the marine. ‘This forest is an ambush waiting to happen. Also, those Shieldmen don’t fill me with confidence. They’re all grouped up at the front of the caravan. They should have two men on point, put the other six in the center so that they can react to any attack and we can take up the rear.’
‘I agree,’ confirmed Leon. ‘Perhaps you should take a canter up to the front and have a chat to their leader, he’s the one with the red hair. Name’s Jefferson, or Jackson. Something like that.’
Nate nodded and spurred his horse forward. He held his right hand up in greeting as he approached the group of Shieldmen. ‘Yo,’ he called out to the red-haired leader. ‘Wonder if we could have a quick chat?’
The man stared at Nate for a few seconds and then nodded curtly. ‘Speak, but be quick, we’re in ambush country.’
‘That’s what I wanted to talk about. I reckon that you should move the bulk of your men to the center of the caravan. That way they can react to an attack at the back, front or center much quicker. My men and I will take the rearguard and help as and if we’re needed. What do you think?’
Red-hair sneered. ‘I think that you can ride on back to the rear and keep your advice to yourself. We know what we’re doing, Hammerman, and we don’t need no hired killers to tell us how to do our job.’
Nate smiled tightly as he kept a rein on his temper. ‘Not telling, mister Shieldman, merely suggesting. Simply makes more sense, that’s all.’
‘Well you’ve suggested,’ quipped red-hair. ‘Now on your way, we’ve got a caravan to protect.’
Nathaniel shook his head. ‘You’re an asshole; anybody ever told you that before?’
Red-hair ignored the marine and turned away, bringing an end to the conversation.
Nathaniel wheeled his horse and galloped back to Brett and Leon.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s position ourselves in the middle of this caravan. Looks like the Shieldmen are staying up front.’
‘He didn’t listen to you?’ Asked Leon.
‘Oh, he listened,’ answered Nate. ‘Just didn’t take kindly to my advice. Called us hired killers.’
‘Technically, he’s correct,’ interjected Brett.
‘Whatever,’ observed Nathaniel. ‘He’s making a big mistake. No one springs an ambush from the front. They wait until half the people have trailed past and then they hit it somewhere near the middle. The Shieldman leader is an idiot.’
The three made their way half way up the procession of wagons and settled in, keeping their eyes wide open and their senses on high alert.
Two hours later, as they entered a particularly thick area of forest, the attack came. Mutants dropped from the trees, targeting the center of the caravan almost directly in front of Nathaniel.
Leon reacted instantly, unslinging his crossbow and firing upwards, the bolt smashing into a mutant and throwing him to the ground. Then he dropped the bow and sprang up onto one of the wagons that were under attack, slashing out with his terrible claws, roaring and baring his canines as he did so.
Nate drew both of his double-barrel pistols, firing smoothly as he did. All four shots struck home and two more Untouchables fell to the floor, blood spurting from their wounds.
At the head of the caravan the Shieldmen were desperately trying to turn their horses and ride back to help, but the density of the undergrowth and the close packed trees were making any swift maneuvering very difficult. At last three of them started to gallop towards the fray but more mutants dropped from above, dragging them off their horses and smashing at them with their huge spiked clubs.
Nate holstered his empty pistols and drew his rifle, aiming and firing from left to right His shots were hurried but deadly accurate and the volleys of lead swept through the mutants like a plague, wounding and killing with every hit.
The rest of the Shieldmen were swiftly overcome and the ravening mutants had started stripping the bodies of clothes and weapons bodies, howling and screeching as they did so, holding up the odd piece of booty to display to the other Untouchables.
Finally the shocked merchants started to react, firing at the Untouchable attackers with their single shot pneumatics, bows and slingshots.
Nate rammed another pneumatic canister into the stock of his rifle, loaded a fresh magazine and continued his methodical sniping, driving the enemy back into the trees. Any mutant that attempted to get close enough to the marine was summarily dispatched by Leon, his body dripping with blood, both his and the enemies.
As Nate reloaded, the mutants finally broke and ran, gibbering and screeching as they retreated.
The marine slot his rifle back into its scabbard and drove his heels into his horse’s flank, galloping down the length of the caravan, frantically searching for Brett whom he had not seen since the battle had started.
He found her at the very back of the line of wagons, standing in front of a huge dead Untouchable. The mutant was stretched out on the ground, flat on his back. Three throwing knives, a boot knife and a short sword poked out of his chest like pins in a novelty pincushion. Its face ran thick with blood that sprung from numerous deep slashes, cut down to the bone. More vicious lacerations marked the mutant’s legs and arms.
Brett was pale as a shroud. And she shook like a leaf in a breeze, her hands pressed to her temples, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
Nate sprang off his horse and grabbed the young woman by the shoulders.
‘Are you alright?’ He asked concernedly. ‘Have you been hurt?’
Brett shook her head and Nate could see her visibly pulling herself together, taking deep breaths and relaxing her taught muscles.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s the first time that I’ve been in actual combat. I mean, I’ve fought a lot, got into countless scraps on the street…but never with mutants. And this,’ she gestured at the piles of fallen bodies all around. ‘This is awful. And he just kept coming,’ she continued. ‘No matter how many times I stabbed him or cut him. He just kept screaming and spitting and running at me.’ She shivered. ‘I thought that I was dead for sure.’
Nathaniel smiled softly. ‘But you aren’t. You done good,’ he assured the young woman. ‘Real good. Trust me.’
‘Does it get any easier?’
The marine shrugged. ‘For some, it does. For others it gets worse every time. Fear builds up like barnacles on a ship’s hull, weighs you down and cuts your performance. All depends on the person.’
‘Will it get better for me?’ Asked Brett.
‘I reckon so,’ answered Nate. ‘You’re strong. Good at what you do. You’ll be fine.’ He patted her on the shoulder.
‘Thank you. Look, why don’t I take care of the Calotype? I’ll sort out the proof of kill while you take care of the merchants.’
‘You know how to use the Calotype?’
‘Sure,’ smiled Brett. ‘Stole one once. Had great fun playing with it.’
Nate grinned, took the small picture box from his pocket and handed it to Brett.
‘Go for it. But take care of your weapons first, okay?’
Brett saluted, banging her closed fist on her chest.
Nate nodded in approval, then he vaulted back onto his horse and trotted back to the center of the caravan, looking for Leon as well as the leading merchant.
He came across the lion man first.
‘Good fight,’ rumbled Leon. ‘These mutants are strong but slow. They rely on brute strength and when it comes down to that, I’ve pretty much got them outgunned.’
‘You’re cut,’ observed Nate as he pointed at a deep slash across Leon’s back.
Leon shrugged. ‘I heal quick. How’s Brett?’
‘Fine. It’s her first real engagement. She’ll recover from the shock soon enough, she’s strong. Can you take point? We need to get these guys moving, get out of the forest as soon as. I have a feeling that the mutants aren’t too far away and I’d hate them to regroup and have another bash at us.’
Leon nodded and ran to the front of the wagon train.
Nate cast his eyes around, searching for the caravan leader. He spotted him organizing help for the wounded merchants, preparing bandages and calling for burying parties.
The marine spurred his horse towards him, eyes still scanning the surrounds in case of another attack.
Chapter 12
The caravan reached the town of Verona at the end of the next day. There had been a small altercation between Nate and the head merchant when the marine had insisted that they not bury their dead but loaded them on a wagon instead. The merchant had argued that it was custom to bury folks where they had fallen, but Nate had countered that they had better be prepared to bury a lot more then. Because if the mutants returned, then the death toll would double or even triple.
Finally the group of merchants had acceded and the human corpses were respectfully shrouded in sheets and loaded onto two wagons. They were buried within sight of the town walls, once they were out of the thick forest.
The caravan was welcomed into the town and, despite the loss of human life incurred on the trip, brisk trading was soon on the go. Merchants bartered, bought and sold and wagons were emptied and refilled as the day wore on.