Contents
Title
Front Matter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Author's Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Teaser
Extensis Vitae:
City of Sarx
Gregory Mattix
Extensis Vitae: City of Sarx
Copyright © 2014 by Gregory Mattix
Cover Art by Isikol
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
The parched ground of the wasteland rolled by under the captured slaver truck’s big tires. The air conditioner fought valiantly in a losing battle to keep the cabin cool against the rising heat of the morning.
Michael Reznik’s mind was on other things. He wondered what the day had in store for them, as he and his companion, Rin, headed north to seek out the wasteland rebels.
Garbled techno-rock pulsed from the blown speakers of the beat-up vehicle. Rin had fiddled with the stereo deck and eventually gotten it to play the throbbing music, which seemed to lack any intelligible lyrics. With an apologetic shrug, she had declared that the techno-rock was the only music the deck had on file. Reznik didn’t mind, as the music concealed the worrisome rattles and wheezes issuing forth from the powertrain. Their remaining hoverbike bobbed along behind the truck on its magnetic coupling.
“What’s your plan for these discussions?” Rin looked at him askance, her stunning turquoise eyes bright. The Asian woman lounged up against the corner of the seat and the door, somehow managing to look comfortable despite the harsh, jouncy ride.
“I suppose the first goal is to feel them out and try to determine the competence level—and capabilities—of the rebels. We could propose an arrangement to help each other out. If they share their objectives with us, I’ll let them know what my plan is. What about you—would your contacts with Shiru be receptive to some type of temporary alliance?” Shiru International was a powerful Asian corporation; it controlled the Pac-Rim and was Thorne Industries’ capitalistic, as well as military, opponent. Rin hadn’t been specific as to what her relationship was with Shiru, but Reznik got the feeling she had some high-up connections with them.
Rin studied the desolate scene out the window. What had once been the fertile heartland of America was a blasted wasteland. “I don’t want to over-promise anything, but I think they would at least entertain the idea. I have to make contact with my brother once I see you through to Skin City and handle some matters. That should put me in position to make some inquiries, and we can go from there.”
At the mention of Skin City, Reznik’s thoughts drifted to what lay ahead of him. He wasn’t too concerned about their attempt to meet with the rebels. He had met with more wannabe rebel leaders than he could remember during his time with Special Ops and later, Delta. A lot of them were untrustworthy thugs and criminals that, if they ever took control, wouldn’t be any better than the powers they sought to overthrow. Occasionally, though, there were some quality fighters that brought wisdom and principles to their fight. Reznik hoped to find the latter with Red Royce and his wasteland rebels.
His mission after they met with the rebels concerned him more. He was trying to track down several hundred people who had been kidnapped from their underground Extensis Vitae colony and shipped off to slavery in Skin City, the unofficial capital and main trading hub of the wasteland. He had heard stories about the place, and so far, none of them seemed good.
Reznik had just turned to ask Rin a question when he saw a fiery streak out of the corner of his eye. An RPG struck the front end of the truck and exploded. Shattered glass, twisted metal, and flames swirled around them as the truck launched into the air and flipped over. Reznik’s seatbelt held him in place, but Rin, having neglected to wear hers, wasn’t so lucky and was ejected through the windshield.
The vehicle landed on its roof, and Reznik found himself upside down with black smoke pouring inside the cabin and flames licking at the dashboard from under the hood. Somehow, the techno-rock still pumped out of the blown deck although it sounded as if just one speaker remained at this point.
Instinct took hold, and Reznik quickly checked himself for injuries. His HUD flashed amber as it indicated the damage he had received, but he was unhurt, thanks to the dermal plating his genetically engineered body provided. He wasn’t sure about Rin, who lay unmoving on the hard, rocky ground a dozen yards ahead of the truck. A number of attackers were advancing down the ridge toward the truck’s wreckage.
Reznik quickly unbuckled the seat belt and secured the first weapon he could find inside the cab. The smooth stock of a pulse rifle slid into his hand. Time for a field test.
He rolled free of the truck, immediately scanning for targets as he came up into a kneeling position. His HUD identified ten of them, quickly highlighting each target and the arms they carried. The man with the RPG was his first concern. His HUD locked on the target, who had remained behind and just finished loading a fresh grenade in the launcher. The attacker aimed the RPG toward the truck again.
The pulse rifle felt comfortable in Reznik’s grip, and he smoothly flicked off the safety, put the rifle to his shoulder, and centered the RPG in the crosshairs of the scope. He let loose a burst. Blat blat blat.
The bolts of energy crackled through the air, followed by the RPG exploding before the attacker realized what was happening. The blast turned him to pulp and flattened the closest man to him as well. The others spun in surprise, and Reznik blasted two more of them before they dove for the scant cover available and returned fire. Bullets ripped into the burning truck.
A short distance away, Rin picked herself up from the ground and wiped dirt out of her eyes. Her katana had landed about halfway between her and the truck. She swept her blond hair back out of her face, and Reznik could see shiny bits of glass embedded in her forehead and cheek. She didn’t look the least bit happy, and Reznik almost felt sorry for their attackers.
The men closest to Rin got over their surprise that she was back on her feet, and they let loose with assault rifles and submachine guns. Rin was a blur as she dodged and rushed the nearest ambusher. The man tried to track her, but she was much too fast. Reznik saw a flash of golden hair and black leather, followed by a spray of crimson as the man inadvertently blew his own head off when Rin wrenched the muzzle of the gun up under his chin. She pulled the SMG from the man’s fingers and fired a burst at the next nearest gunman, who went down, his
return rounds ricocheting away on the stony ground. Rin threw down suppressing fire in a wide circle, causing the others to duck as she strode toward her katana. She tossed the gun aside and toed the hilt, flipping it up into her hand.
Reznik realized he had been gawking in awe at the efficient lethality of her actions. Her graceful movements were a ballet of violence. The ambushers were apparently just as surprised, and Reznik picked two more off with head shots. Rin mopped up the rest, leaping into the midst of the remaining three, her sword flashing in a whirlwind assault. She stopped moving abruptly, and the three remaining attackers staggered and fell as one to the dirt.
The last man, who had been wounded by the RPG blast, tried to surrender. He tossed aside an AK-47 and held his hands in the air. Reznik approached cautiously, noting the man had a shrapnel wound in the back. It looked as though he would survive.
“I yield,” he cried. “Please don’t shoot me… or carve me up,” he added with a look at Rin, who was frowning at the corpses.
Reznik was of a mind to spare the man, but Rin walked up without a word and ran him through with her katana. The man crumpled over with a gasp, and Rin wiped the blood off her blade on the man’s tattered shirt.
Rin met Reznik’s questioning look. “That marauder would have just joined another gang if we had let him go. Garbage like these types never learn their lessons.” She sheathed her sword and then cursed as she saw her leathers were scuffed and torn. Reznik could see where a couple bullets had found their marks just under her breasts. Although her outfit was riddled with bullet holes, her skin was unblemished. “Damn it, these were nice and clean when I put them on this morning.”
“I have that same problem,” Reznik said with a chuckle. His own outfit was singed from the explosion. “Hold on, you’ve got something there…” He reached over and plucked the shards of glass from her face. He saw no wounds there; the glass had apparently broken against her dermal plating but had still stuck to her skin.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing. That was some fancy shooting, by the way. Didn’t know you were such a sharpshooter with a gun,” he teased, knowing her dislike of firearms.
Rin snorted and pointed to her head. “Any fool can point and shoot with good enough targeting software.”
“Yeah, I guess so, but you made that look smooth.” He grinned at her, and she shook her head and looked away, but not before Reznik saw the smile she tried to conceal.
“You might want to recover your guns and ammo before it all goes up in a fireball.”
“Oh, shit.” Reznik ran back to the truck, which was halfway engulfed in flames.
The two of them managed to recover their gear, which was mostly intact. The magnetic coupling holding the hoverbike had separated during the explosion, leaving the bike surprisingly free from damage. Scorch marks around the front end and a ragged puncture in the sheet metal from shrapnel were the only blemishes on the bike.
Reznik searched the dead bandits and rounded up some serviceable weapons, ammo, and Skin City chips the bandits had on them. He was pleased to replace the AK-47 he had lost in the last excursion.
“At least we still have the hoverbike. These morons should have some kind of ride, right? They wouldn’t be out here with no transportation whatsoever, would they?”
Rin just shrugged and fired up the hoverbike, the rotors whooshing and kicking up dust. Reznik climbed on the back of the bike, and they took off in the direction they had been heading. After a few hundred yards, they found a couple of vehicles parked nearby behind a small knob of a hill.
Reznik’s hopes fell when he saw that both vehicles were in even worse shape than the other truck had been prior to getting blown up. Neither had a stereo rig, either. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Reznik wasn’t sure. They had a few hours to go before reaching their destination, and he’d count himself fortunate as long as a vehicle just got them there.
Chapter 2
“You’re looking for Keeva, you say?” the barmaid asked, her voice holding a hint of a Scottish burr. She busied herself with scrubbing at an imaginary speck of dirt on the spotless top of the bar. Her bob hairstyle was a shocking shade of dark blue, which accentuated her deep-violet eyes. “Who’s asking?”
Reznik took a pull on his tankard of beer and watched the barmaid. Something about her didn’t sit right. As soon as he had asked for the contact they were supposed to meet, the woman had tensed up. He could tell by the woman’s general alertness, the toned muscles of her arms, and the fluid way she moved that she was more than a simple barmaid. This woman can handle herself in a fight. The large handgun hanging comfortably at her waist reinforced his opinion.
“I’m Reznik, and this is Rin,” he replied. Rin nodded in greeting from the next barstool, but she continued to sip her glass of brandy, appearing uninterested in the exchange.
The rust bucket of a truck they had taken from the bandits had barely coughed and wheezed its way into the small town known as Big Sky. They were about a one-and-a-half-day drive north of Planter’s Ridge. Big Sky was very similar to Planter’s Ridge, but it had a stone wall encircling it instead of a wall of collected junk. Reznik thought—because of the colorful bluffs nearby—that they must be close to the Badlands, what had once been South Dakota.
“Well, Mr. Reznik, what business do the two of you have with Keeva?” The young woman regarded them suspiciously. Her violet eyes looked disapprovingly at their singed and torn clothes. She wasn’t what he would consider beautiful—her chin was a bit too pointed and her cheekbones a bit sharp, but she was definitely quite comely.
Reznik was about to say something when a man hollered at the barmaid from a table across the room. “Hey, Keeva, another round over here!”
“Ronnie, you son of a bitch,” the woman said under her breath. Reznik grinned when she finally met his eyes. “Okay, you found her. What the hell do you want?” she snapped.
“Abby said we should ask for you,” Rin spoke up.
Reznik could see some resemblance between the two women: Abby and Keeva were both in their early to mid-twenties, with slim builds and pretty faces. They must be related, but this woman seems harder somehow. Abby had the toughness of a settler of the wasteland, but Keeva has the hardness of a fighter.
Keeva’s face softened a bit. “Abby sent you? How’s my little cousin doing?” She busied herself with filling a couple tankards to refill Ronnie’s and his friends’ drinks.
“You haven’t heard yet?” Reznik asked, exchanging a glance with Rin. Keeva just raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Abby passed away recently.”
“She what?” Keeva stared in shock. “You can’t mean it!” The ale sloshed in her trembling hands and threatened to spill out of the tankards. She set them back on the counter.
Rin shook her head sadly. “She didn’t survive that business with the mutants, I’m afraid.”
Keeva’s face went blank at the mention of mutants. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Has it been a while since you’ve heard from Planter’s Ridge?” Reznik asked.
Keeva shrugged. “Month or two, I guess. What happened?”
Reznik briefly recounted the events that occurred: the mutants raiding the town and kidnapping the women, and the subsequent rescue. He didn’t go into any specifics about Abby, and Keeva didn’t ask.
She sighed when he finished, and her shoulders slumped. She stared at the counter. “Jesus…” Clearly, she was at a loss for words.
“Hey, babe, are you gonna bring those beers, or is it self-serve around here?” Ronnie was looking over at them with irritation.
Reznik gave him a hard look, and Ronnie quickly looked away. “I’ve got this,” Keeva replied and took the drinks over to the locals, more visibly composed than she had been a moment before. She returned to the bar after a moment.
“What did Abby send you here for?” Keeva leaned heavily against the counter as she faced the two of them.
“Shhh,” Keeva hissed with a quick glance around the bar. Ronnie and his friends were paying no notice, attacking their tankards with a vengeance. “What’s your business with him?”
“I think we have similar goals and would like to discuss plans for the future of the wasteland. I also wanted to deliver the sad news about his niece. Would that make Royce your father?”
Keeva nodded. She was quiet for a moment and then sighed. “All right, I can take you to see Father since Abby seemed to trust you two. She’s always had good instincts where people are concerned.” She ran her hands through her hair and then pounded a fist against the counter. “Damn it, I should have gone to pay her a visit. We should have been there to help those people out! The network is so unreliable in the wasteland—I keep telling Father they should focus on improving the network and making life better for the wastelanders, but he’s always so interested in his raids, patrols, and checkpoints.” She shook her head. “What good is fighting Thorne Industries if we can’t even help our own people out when they are in need?”
“I agree. A resistance is much stronger with the support of the common people,” Reznik said. “Thank you, Keeva. How far will we be going?”
“Three hours, give or take. What kind of transportation do you have?”
“We’ve got a truck and a hoverbike. We got into a bit of a scrape with some bandits on the way here and had to commandeer their ride. I’m not too confident the truck will make it much farther since it doesn’t look like the bandits bothered to maintain it much. But we’ll take it as far as it will go. We have business elsewhere after we meet your father.”
“That will work,” Keeva replied. “If you need to, you can pile in my truck or throw your hoverbike in the back or whatever. Just give me a couple hours, will you? I need to get some stuff together and see if Pete can cover me while I’m gone. Now if you’ll excuse me?”
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