A Hole in the Sky

by William C. Dietz

  By then Capelli was in the ditch and trying to figure out what was happening. Two bullets—two kills. A pro, then. Or a talented amateur. But why? And more importantly, who? Not the stinks, because they would have shot him. Or, failing that, would be surging out onto the highway.

  Capelli heard the distinctive sound of a Marksman firing a three-round burst. His Marksman. Which meant Alfonso was firing back. The rotten sonofabitch. And there was Master Jack to consider, not to mention Leena, who could use a weapon when called upon to do so. What were they up to?

  Capelli raised his head for a second, spotted the Bullseye Bam-Bam had been carrying, and wondered if he could make it. The weapon was a good fifteen feet away—and there was the return trip to consider. Say ten seconds out, five on the scene, and ten back. Twenty-five in all. Plenty of time for the mysterious marksman or Alfonso to shoot him. Except they were focused on each other. A notion that gained credence as another shot rang out. Capelli got up, scrambled onto the highway, and made a beeline for the weapon.

  Susan felt a sudden stab of fear, and rolled away, as a bullet nicked the top surface of her right shoulder. It didn’t hurt. So chances were that the projectile hadn’t broken the skin. But the return fire was completely unexpected. Yes, there was a third man stationed next to the road, but he was armed with a crossbow. And a rifle, as it turned out. Something she had missed.

  That was bad. But what made matters worse was the fact that the bastard was a very good shot. As good as she was? Yes, Susan thought that was possible. She elbowed her way down off a slight rise, and snaked towards the pile of rocks where her pack was hidden. A farmer had painstakingly removed the stones from his field and she was grateful.

  No sooner was she behind the pile of rocks when a bullet spanged off the rock in front of her. Had the shot been an honest-to-God attempt to nail her? Or was the projectile supposed to freeze her place? Giving the third man an opportunity to reposition himself?

  Suddenly Susan regretted the impulse that caused her to follow both the circus and the man with the SRPA tattoo on his back. He was free though, and that was a good thing, or would be so long as she managed to survive.

  Susan was kneeling behind the pile of stones with two inches of the Fareye’s long, slender barrel poking out through a gap. A really good sniper could put a bullet through the hole. Hell, she had met one Freedom First operative who could have shot her through the telescopic sight, but he was dead. Not from a sniper but a massive heart attack.

  As Susan watched a light breeze play across the grass, she noticed a spot where the feathery stems were leaning in the wrong direction. She made a tiny allowance for the breeze and squeezed. The rifle butt nudged her shoulder, and as the bullet sped through the air, it broke the sound barrier.

  The wagon and the humans who had to pull it were hidden inside a barn that was located two hundred yards off the highway. And that’s where Ringmaster Jack, Leena, and her daughter were. Having heard the gunshots, they knew something was amiss. Otherwise Alfonso, Bam-Bam, and Inkskin would have returned by then.

  So Jack was faced with a dilemma. Should he venture out in order to provide his employees with some fire support, or remain in the barn and guard the donkeys? They were lined up against the south wall staring at him. He frowned. “What the hell are you looking at? Keep your eyes on the floor.”

  “They aren’t looking at you. They’re looking at me.”

  The voice came from behind him. And as Jack turned, he saw a man silhouetted in the side door and felt a gentle nudge. A tag! The Ringmaster knew what that meant and shouted, “No!”

  But the projectiles were already on the way. They sparkled like jewels, swarmed the Ringmaster like angry bees, and tore into him. His corpulent body shuddered as if afflicted by some terrible disease, wavered uncertainly, and slumped to the ground.

  “Capelli!” the man called Bar shouted. “The hayloft!”

  Capelli brought the Bullseye up and took a step sideways as Leena fired her pistol. The bullet kicked up dirt just beyond where he’d been standing.

  It was relatively dark up in the loft, so Capelli couldn’t see his assailant, but he had a pretty good idea of who it was. The same rotten bitch who’d suckered him into the trap weeks before. As he pulled the trigger and held it back, a dozen beams of sunlight appeared as projectiles punched holes in the wooden floor and the roof beyond. Leena uttered a cry, took two uncertain steps, and toppled forward.

  Her body hit the dirt with a thump and threw a cloud of dust into the air. It was still settling as Capelli hurried up the ladder and onto the platform above. That was where he found the little girl. She was dead, having been hit by at least two projectiles, and Capelli swore softly. That hadn’t been his intention. Far from it. But there was nothing he could do. She, like so many before her, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  His captors had been sleeping in the loft, which meant their belongings were spread about, an opportunity too good to pass up. Capelli took a moment to select a good pack and spent the next ten minutes filling it with carefully chosen items. He also appropriated Leena’s Colt Commander and took an adjustable shoulder holster from her sleeping bag.

  Then, as Capelli went through Master Jack’s belongings, he came across what he recognized as Locke’s money belt. It felt lighter than before but still held a small fortune. So he buckled it around his waist before returning to the ground.

  The prisoners yelled at him, rattling their chains, and trying to break free from the tractor to which they were tethered. Capelli raised a hand as he stood before them. “Listen up.”

  The noise stopped and they stared at him. “I’ve got good news for you. As soon as I finish collecting the things I need, you’ll be freed. And since there’s a limit to how much I can carry, there will be plenty of stuff left for you. How you divide it, and what you do next, is up to you. So please take it easy and I’ll turn you loose shortly.”

  The prisoners didn’t take it easy. Some of them shouted demands and others pleaded with him as Capelli took what he wanted from the wagon. Once Capelli was fully equipped, he retrieved the key from Master Jack’s vest pocket. It was slippery with blood.

  Capelli shouldered his pack and checked to make sure that the Bullseye was full up before going over to turn the donkeys loose. They grew very quiet, their eyes following his every move, as the big padlock fell free and landed in the dirt.

  Capelli was backing away by then—with the assault rifle raised. “I’ll leave it to you to find the key to those collars. Bam-Bam and Inkskin are on the highway. That’s where I would start if I were you.”

  Because the prisoners were hooked to the master chain, and Capelli was armed, they couldn’t prevent him from leaving. Bar said, “Thanks,” but the rest were yelling insults as Capelli paused to confiscate Jack’s Bullseye before backing out through the door.

  Once outside, Capelli paused to check his surroundings. Where was the mysterious sniper? And more important yet, where was Alfonso? Especially given all of the gunfire. That seemed to suggest that Alfonso was wounded or dead.

  But Alfonso was a cagey bastard, and a crack shot, so he couldn’t take anything for granted. Capelli crossed the open area between the barn and the highway in a series of short dashes and flopped onto his belly after each sprint. But even as the prisoners exited the barn and shuffled his way, no one shot at him.

  The scene on the highway was just as Capelli had left it, with two bodies sprawled on the concrete. As he eyed the field to the east, he felt a strange crawling sensation, and wondered if he was under surveillance. Was the sniper there? Watching him? Yes, that was a distinct possibility.

  Capelli turned and saw that the donkeys were only a hundred feet away and closing fast. That was when he realized that he would have to collect Inkskin’s Bullseye or run the risk that one of the prisoners would use it against him. Having scooped the weapon up, he lugged all three assault weapons through the ditch and into the field beyond. Then, as soon as he though
t it was safe to do so, he removed the magazines from two of the Bullseyes and left the weapons behind.

  Capelli had seen the bullet take the top off Bam-Bam’s head, so he had a pretty good idea of where the shooter must have been hiding. He began to walk in that general direction, but he hadn’t traveled more than twenty feet when he ran into Alfonso’s body.

  The circus performer was lying facedown, and judging from the messy exit wound, had been shot in the forehead. Capelli’s Marksman rifle lay in front of the body. After slinging the Bullseye over his shoulder, he bent to pick it up. Once he’d straightened, he saw that a woman was standing thirty feet away.

  She was tall. Maybe five-eight or so. A gentle breeze ruffled her light brown hair. She had green eyes, a high forehead, and a spray of freckles across her nose. “You have blood on your face.”

  Capelli reached up, felt the crusty stuff, and remembered the way the top of Bam-Bam’s head had flown off. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “That’s a nice weapon.”

  “Yes,” Capelli replied. “It was mine before it was his.”

  “Now it’s yours once again.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  The woman smiled bleakly. “You’re welcome. You took care of the rest?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the prisoners?”

  “They’re free by now. Why did you do it?”

  The woman shrugged. “I saw the fight in Tank Town. My brother had a tattoo identical to yours. There were a whole lot of things we disagreed on. But he was a brave man. So I freed you for him.”

  “Your brother was a member of SRPA? What was his name? Maybe I knew him.”

  “Hale,” the woman answered. “My brother’s name was Nathan Hale. My name is Susan Farley. Mom and dad adopted Nathan after his parents died.”

  Sardonic laughter flooded Capelli’s mind. Surprise! the voice said. My sister saved your life. How weird is that? Are you going to tell her?

  “I knew him,” Capelli admitted. “More than that, I reported to him. And you’re correct. He was a very brave man.”

  That’s all? the voice wanted to know. Come on, Capelli. Tell her what you did. Maybe she’ll shoot you. Lord knows you deserve it.

  The light had started to fade. “Which way are you headed?” Capelli inquired. The words sounded awkward. Like those of a schoolboy hoping to escort a girl home.

  Susan smiled. “Was that an invitation?”

  “Yes,” Capelli answered honestly. “It was. But I won’t try anything. I promise.”

  “I’ll shoot you if you do,” Susan replied. “But I’d like to hear about my brother. If you don’t mind talking about him, that is.”

  The last thing Capelli wanted to do was talk about Hale. But he didn’t want to part company with Susan Farley, either. “No, I don’t mind. Are you ready to go?”

  “I will be as soon as I get my pack,” Susan answered.

  Rather than return to the highway, and a possible confrontation with the newly freed prisoners, the twosome stuck to the fields. Half an hour later they entered a rocky depression where an overhang offered protection from above and a ring of fire-blackened stones marked the site of a previous fire. “So, what do you think?” Susan inquired.

  Capelli raised a hand. Had there been a noise? The sound of a twig snapping? The answer came in the form of a joyous bark, followed by a blur, as a large dog bowled Capelli over. “Don’t shoot!” he yelled, as Rowdy licked his face. “He’s friendly! Most of the time, anyway.”

  “I’ve seen him before,” Susan said, as Capelli struggled to his feet. “He was roaming the area when I caught up with the circus. What kind of dog is he anyway?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Capelli said, as he gave Rowdy a pat. “But there’s some Rhodesian ridgeback in him. Or so I’ve been told. It’s good to see him. I thought he was dead.”

  It was nearly dark by then, so Susan produced a flashlight. The beam played over the campsite. “So as I was saying! Does this look okay to you?”

  “It’s fine,” Capelli said. “Let’s perform a quick check to make sure there aren’t any pods in the area.”

  Susan agreed, and thirty minutes later they had a fire going, and were cooking a communal meal. The warmth felt good. “So,” Capelli said, in hopes of delaying the Hale conversation for as long as possible. “How did you wind up in the audience watching a Steelhead beat the crap out of me?”

  “The Steelhead wound up dead, as I recall it,” Susan observed dryly.

  Capelli served the food, and as they began to eat, Susan told him about the attack on her parents’ home, the dangerous trip through stink-held territory, and how she had been recruited by Freedom First. An association that led to a failed assassination attempt, prison time, and forced labor in the Lucky Buckle Mine. “So I broke out,” she concluded, “traveled east, and wound up in Tank Town.”

  Capelli sensed there was more to the story. A lot more. But he figured she would share the details when and if she felt like it. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he observed. “Although skill clearly had a lot to do with it.”

  The firelight illuminated Susan’s face from below. She shrugged. “Country girls know how to survive. Enough about my adventures. Tell me about the Sentinels—and my brother.”

  Yeah, the voice said. Tell Susan about me.

  Capelli stared into the flames. “You know he’s dead.”

  “Yes,” Susan said soberly. “That’s what I figured. But I never received anything official.”

  “That’s because the Sentinels were top secret,” Capelli explained, “and all of us were listed as KIA. Then the government collapsed and millions of people were buried in unmarked graves. Or not buried at all.”

  Susan blew steam off her mug of tea. “How did Nathan die?”

  Capelli tried to meet her eyes but couldn’t. “Your brother was infected while fighting in England. The virus should have taken over his body, should have turned him into a Chimera, but for some reason it didn’t. Not right away.

  “Then a scientist named Malikov injected experimental subjects with the Chimeran virus as part of Project Abraham. Later on he developed an inhibitor treatment to keep the virus under control. All of the Sentinel troopers received it, including your brother, but there were signs that he was beginning to change in spite of the injections. And, as the fighting grew even more intense, he refused treatment in order to battle the stinks.”

  Capelli’s words were followed by a moment of silence as tears began to roll down Susan’s cheeks. “What are you saying? That my brother turned into a Chimera?”

  Capelli forced his eyes to make contact with hers. “No. He was beginning to change. I thought so, anyway. And if he had, the entire team would have been in danger. So I shot him.”

  There was an audible gasp as Susan took a deep breath. “You-you shot my brother?”

  “Yes,” Capelli said woodenly. “I thought it was my duty to do so. Some people agreed with me. But most of them didn’t. So I was thrown out of the Sentinels—and I’ve been wandering around the badlands ever since.”

  Susan’s eyes narrowed as she wiped the tears away with the back of her left hand. Suddenly Capelli found himself looking down the barrel of a .22 pistol. Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I should shoot you.”

  Capelli nodded. “That would make sense. Sometimes I think I should shoot myself.”

  Ten long seconds dragged by. Suddenly the pistol disappeared under her jacket. Capelli’s eyebrows rose. “You aren’t going to shoot me?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Possibly. It’s too early to say.”

  “Okay, then! Would you like some more tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The fire crackled, their shadows loomed against the cliff, and Rowdy yawned. He was content.

  When Capelli awoke it was to a cold, gray morning. A front had moved into the area overnight, and judging from the look of the pewter-gray sky, it was going
to rain. But that was okay with Capelli, because after weeks of imprisonment he was free! And thanks to Rowdy’s presence he’d been able to sleep well.

  So Capelli was in a good mood until he rolled out of the sack to discover that Susan had left. It wasn’t surprising. Not after what he’d done to her brother. But, unlikely though such a scenario was, he’d been hoping that she would manage to forgive him.

  Oddly enough, the voice tried to console him. Look at it this way, Capelli! She could have shot you. The fact that she didn’t is forgiveness of a sort.

  He spent the next half-hour brushing his teeth, taking a chilly sponge bath, and starting a fire. The water was boiling, and Capelli was about to pour some oatmeal into it, when Rowdy bounded into camp, his tail a-wagging.

  “Is that hot water for me?”

  Capelli’s head came up. Susan was standing about ten feet away. “I took a look around,” she announced. “The area is clear. For the moment at least.”

  So saying, Susan shrugged her pack off, put it down, and opened the flap. Two minutes later she was crouched on the other side of the fire, drinking tea.

  Had she really been out looking around? Or was that a cover story? What about the possibility that Susan left, changed her mind, and doubled back? There was no way to know—and Capelli wasn’t about to ask. “It looks like you have a new friend,” he said with a nod towards Rowdy.

  The dog was lying next to Susan, looking up at her with worshipful eyes. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said. “He reminds me of the dog I had back home. So where are we headed?”

  Capelli felt a rising sense of hope. There had been no discussions, no negotiations, just the casual use of the word “we.” Did that mean what he thought it did? That Susan had chosen to remain with him for a while? The possibility of that made him unexpectedly happy. But the situation was delicate, he could sense that, so he chose his words with care.

  “I was on my way to Haven, Oklahoma, when the circus people captured me.” Having told her that much, Capelli went on to share the rest of the story, including the deal with Locke, and the way the big man died. “So I can’t take him to Haven,” Capelli concluded. “But I can deliver this. He wanted his sister to have it. And, thanks to you, I was able to take it back.”