Lone Gunfighter of the Wastelands

by Rachel Aukes

  As he rode the bike, he no longer sweated. He even shivered. His vision had broken into two lines, so he held tightly onto the bike’s yoke, staring off at the two deserts before him. He saw tribal signs—or they could’ve been rocks…everything seemed to morph in front of his eyes.

  His ears rang, and he thought he heard the dead winds blowing in from the distance. Fear caused him to yank back, and he nearly wrecked the bike, somehow managing to right it before tumbling over.

  “Hang in there, Terry,” he mumbled as he leaned over the yoke.

  He started to doze, but a nagging cramp in his left forearm brought him back. He opened his eyes. The world was blurry and doubled, but he saw a piece of wood sticking out from his arm. He grabbed at it—it took him multiple tries—and pulled it out, noticing that it had feathers on the end.

  He frowned in confusion. An arrow? Who even used arrows anymore?

  Then another pain showed up in his side, and he found a second arrow protruding above his hip. He reached for that one too, but lost his hold on the bike and tumbled off. Pain hit him from everywhere, and he felt oddly like he was rolling. He came to a stop with a groan.

  He reached for the arrow in his side and found that it’d been broken off, with only a couple inches sticking out from his skin. It felt good to lie down, so he left the arrow in place and closed his eyes against the harsh sun.

  Blaster fire echoed from both sides, and he vaguely wondered if he was in a gunfight. The sounds stopped, and he wondered no more. When the sun was blocked by a cool shadow, Joe pried his eyes open to see a person wearing an exoshield and helmet staring down at him.

  The person bent down. Joe held out his hand to be helped up. Instead, the newcomer punched him. Joe’s pain, along with his consciousness, was flung into the black.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “It was bad enough you sent that criminal to the Devil’s Dance Floor rather than send him to me for punishment, but then you let him escape? What were you thinking?” Roderick practically yelled through Gabriel Sloan’s armlet.

  “Watch your tone with me, little brother. I run the operations around here, not you,” Gabriel said.

  “Well, maybe that should change,” Roderick spat back.

  Gabriel clenched his jaw shut. “You might be family, but that won’t prevent me from cutting you out of the plan if I must. Now, I will recapture the fugitive, and I will kill him. You have my word.”

  “I want to watch him die. He humiliated me in front of my soldiers.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I’ll report back once I have him.” He disconnected the call. Then he tapped an intercom line on his desk. “Send them in.”

  A moment later, two hunters stepped into his office. Both wore full exoshields. If they didn’t have the expensive armor, Sloan wouldn’t have bothered hiring them, but it was still cheaper hiring than outfitting more of his troops with the stuff.

  “Bolt, Tumbler,” Gabriel began. “I have a job for you.”

  “Do you have a ticket?” Bolt asked.

  “No. And you don’t need one. You know this individual.”

  Bolt’s head lifted slightly. “Who is it?”

  “He’s a hunter who goes by the name Havoc.”

  Bolt chuckled dryly. “We’d be happy to hunt him down. Is this a knockout?”

  Gabriel thought for a moment. “Alive, if you can, but dead is just as good.”

  Bolt tilted his head forward, and the two exited the office.

  Gabriel steepled his fingers as he considered a plan. He nearly called off Bolt and Tumbler until he decided that it was better to have two plans in play rather than just one. He made another call on the intercom. “Bring in the new girl, Sara.”

  Minutes passed before his door opened. A guard escorted in the woman who’d tenured herself to Gabriel a week earlier. She held her chin up, not making eye contact. She stood defiantly, but he noticed her fear, evident in her trembling fingers.

  “Your friend Havoc has escaped,” Gabriel began lightly.

  She met his gaze, and he saw the spark of hope in her brown eyes.

  “How much do you mean to him?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  She swallowed. “I mean very little to him.”

  She was a very bad liar. He smiled, then spoke to her guard. “I want her kept near me at all times, and quadruple the security. Havoc is going to try to rescue this woman, and I want him caught when he does. And send patrols to any place Havoc was known to frequent.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard said.

  Gabriel sneered as he watched the woman’s face blanch. “Yes, you make tantalizing bait. I look forward to this game.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Nick and Romy were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, brainstorming a rescue mission, when Champ shot awake and looked at the stairs. A few moments later, Nick heard bootsteps above them.

  He sucked in a breath. Nick grabbed the blaster while Romy grabbed the pellet gun. He jumped to his feet, and she ran behind the sofa to hide. He held a finger to his lips, and she nodded. He tiptoed to the stairs and looked up, but saw nothing.

  He crawled up, one stair at a time, holding the blaster with one hand in front of him. Champ tried to follow, and he pushed her back. “Stay,” he whispered, even though she’d never obeyed that command before. When she kept at his heels, he gave up and crept up the stairs.

  When he reached the top stair, he peeked out, still holding the blaster in front of him. He saw one man in an exoshield. His armor was uglier than Joe’s—the green paint was all chipped up—but he was also a lot bigger than Joe, scarily so. The man had the same picture of a fist on his arm that Joe had on his, and Nick remembered Joe telling him that the picture was for the guild he worked for. That meant this guy could’ve been a friend of Joe’s…or not. He was rummaging through Joe’s armor, which ticked Nick off.

  Nick gulped, then jumped out. “Freeze, sucker!”

  The man turned around and cocked his head at Nick. Since the hunter had a helmet on, Nick couldn’t make out whatever expression the man had. T-REX was painted on his chest plate, and Nick wondered what that call sign meant.

  “You know how to use that, kid?” The man’s voice was gruff, like he always wanted to sound tough.

  Nick fired, and the shot ricocheted off the hunter’s shoulder. Nick ducked, nearly tripping over Champ.

  The hunter was on Nick before he could fire again, and pulled the blaster out of Nick’s hands.

  “You’re lucky that blaster’s on stun, or else you would’ve ticked me off, kid.”

  Nick jumped up, reaching for the blaster. “Hey, that’s mine. Give it back!”

  He didn’t give it back. “Where’s Havoc?”

  “Don’t know ’im.”

  Champ crept up to the hunter and sniffed his boots.

  “Are you the kid that lives here?” the man asked as he bent down to scratch Champ’s ears.

  “Who’s asking?” Nick demanded.

  “Where’s your mom, kid?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Back off, buster, or I’ll shoot you between the eyes,” Romy said, and Nick turned to see her aim the pellet gun at the hunter’s head.

  “Is that…a pellet gun?” The hunter laughed. “You kids have spunk. I like you already.” The hunter sighed, then stepped back. “Listen, I stopped by to check in on you. The murcs have put a beating on anything connected to the Haft Agency, and that goes for their families, too.”

  “Joe’s not my dad,” Nick said.

  “Potato, potahto. Since Joe’s exoshield is sitting on the floor over there, I’m guessing trouble’s already come your way. What happened here?”

  Nick scowled at the man before blurting, “The murcs took him. Same with my mom.”

  The hunter seemed to watch him for a moment before lowering his head, shaking it. “I know I’m going to regret this.” He raised his head. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No,” Nick said.

 
“Listen, kids. I don’t have all day. It’s not safe out there right now, and I’m not leaving you kids here with no adult to look after you.”

  “We can take care of ourselves,” Romy said, still aiming the gun.

  “I can see.” He paused, set the blaster down, and brought his hands to his helmet. “I’m going to take off my helmet now, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t take my eye out with that peashooter.”

  He pulled off his helmet to reveal a man with a shaved head and a square jaw. He looked even scarier without the helmet. He slid the helmet under an arm. “See? I’m not here to hurt you.” He looked across their faces. “It’s not safe here. There’s no telling when another patrol will pass through. There’s a couple of us from the guild hiding out from them. If you come with us, you’ll be safe.”

  “We can’t go with you. We have to rescue Mom and Joe,” Nick insisted.

  T-Rex’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what happened here.”

  And Nick did. Romy lowered her gun and filled in the parts he skimmed over.

  T-Rex rubbed his stubbly chin. “I’d say your mom has a good chance of still being alive. As for Joe…”

  “He’s alive, too,” Romy said.

  The man shot her a humored glance but didn’t answer.

  “So, you see why we have to rescue them?” Nick asked.

  “I see.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, here’s how this is going to play out. You come along with me to my safe house. Then we’ll talk more about this rescue plan of yours.”

  Nick considered the man’s offer and held out his hand. “Deal.”

  T-Rex smirked and shook his hand, and Nick winced at the man’s grip. The hunter handed the blaster back to Nick, but pulled it back before Nick could grab it. “No more shooting me or anyone until I say so. The same goes for you.” He eyed Romy.

  “Fine,” Nick said and took the blaster.

  T-Rex walked over to the bulletin board, where Nick’s mom kept all her pictures and Nick’s drawings. “Does Joe stop by here a lot?”

  Nick shrugged. “Just about every day.”

  The man continued eying the board, then pulled off the biggest picture. “Aw, well, ain’t that cute.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the back, chuckling as he wrote, then hung the picture again.

  Nick frowned and walked over to straighten the picture. “It’s upside down.”

  T-Rex patted his hand away. “Leave it.”

  “You’re weird,” Nick said.

  “I’ve been called a whole lot worse names than that.” The man slid on his helmet. “Now, let’s get you both out of here.”

  Nick froze. “There’s three of us. We can’t leave Champ behind. She’s coming with us, too.”

  The hunter paused, then started walking again. “Of course she is.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Joe returned to consciousness to find himself on a relatively soft surface, at least, softer than the ground he last remembered lying on. His eyes opened, but they were dry, and he reached up to rub them. Pain in his left forearm and his right shoulder made him reconsider, and instead, he blinked the room into focus.

  Seeing clearly added little detail to the sparse space. White walls bore no decorations; the only furniture in the room was a single bed. The room wasn’t familiar. He tried to sit up, only to give up as he realized he lacked the strength and hurt all over. Instead, he gingerly pushed down the blanket to see that he was naked, which wasn’t especially comforting. He checked his left thigh and found a bio-wrap around it. There were additional bio-wraps on his left arm, right shoulder, and left side.

  So someone had saved his life. But why? Given his many enemies and few friends at the moment, he figured the most likely reason was to heal him enough to dump him back onto the Devil’s Dance Floor.

  “You’re awake. I knew you were too hardheaded to die.”

  The owner of the voice stepped through the doorway. He was roughly Joe’s height, and easily in as good shape as Joe—sans wounds—although his Asian features bore a few more wrinkles and a few more scars since the last time Joe had seen him, after the Shiprock War.

  Joe smiled. “Kit Argall.”

  Kit stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. “Joe Ballast, the man who carries the weight of the world with him…and the foulest parts of it on his clothes. I washed them. Should’ve incinerated them.”

  Joe tapped the mattress. “And is this lumpy slab what you consider a mattress? The thing feels like it should’ve been put out of its misery before people moved into the siloes. You still into that self-torture stuff?”

  Kit’s brow rose. “It’s called frugality, and there’s a lot to be said about being content with what I have. And is that your thank you for my saving your life? I see you haven’t developed any manners since I last saw you.”

  “You saved me?” Joe said as he tried to remember.

  “Of course I did, you idiot. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, you wouldn’t have lived another five minutes.”

  Joe sifted through his most recent memories. It took him a couple of seconds to remember the arrows and the blaster fire and…he gingerly reached up and felt his chin. “You punched me.”

  Kit’s lips curved upward, almost into a smile. “I owed you that for leaving me hogtied in Nowhere Land.”

  Joe grinned, remembering better days. “You didn’t seem so bothered at the time. In fact, I remember you were enjoying yourself.”

  “For the first ten minutes, maybe. I’ll have you know that Susie left me tied like that for over two days.” He held up two fingers. “That woman fed and watered me like I was a baby, and used me like I was her personal love slave. I won’t even say what else she did, just that she was very creative.”

  Joe’s smile faded. “I tried to reach out to you a few times after we left the Wilds. You never returned my calls.”

  Kit looked away before shrugging. “I guess I just needed to leave some things behind me and start fresh.”

  “I get that,” Joe said. “There’s been times I wished I could leave everything behind and start over, too.”

  Kit gave a knowing nod. “Yeah.”

  Joe eyed his caretaker. “You miss it, too? The war, the Ravens, all of that?”

  Kit thought for a moment before sighing. “I miss almost all of it.” Then he seemed to brush his thoughts away. “How’d you end up riding into the Salt Flats on a dilapidated bike with a leg that looks like someone went after you with an icepick?”

  “It was a pitchfork,” Joe clarified. “I picked up those wounds on the Devil’s Dance Floor.”

  Kit frowned. “You went up against the mutants?”

  “Believe me, I didn’t go in by choice. Seems I got myself on the wrong side of a couple of MRC administrators.”

  “The Sloan brothers,” Kit said, then shook his head. “I’m not surprised. I figured they held a grudge when they hired my guild to take down the Haft Agency.”

  “I figured you were in that Iron Guild convoy the day they attacked Haft,” Joe said.

  “I had a job that took longer than expected,” he said. “Cat knows I have little interest in the political jobs she takes. I wasn’t there the day Cat brought in the convoy, and I wasn’t there when the Sloan army burned the place to the ground, either.”

  “What?” Joe asked.

  “You didn’t know?”

  Joe shook his head.

  “The Sloan brothers sent in their murcs to burn down the Haft Agency. It’s gone, nothing left.”

  A chill settled over Joe, and he swallowed hard. “Did anyone survive?”

  “From what I hear, Reuben Tally and one hunter are still unaccounted for. Cat extended an offer of employment to any remaining Haft hunters—at least, the ones her double-team lackeys hadn’t brought over yet—and they gladly accepted to save their skin.”

  “Bolt and Tumbler,” Joe said. “They were there the day Sloan came for me, and I figured they’d been working for Cat, since she jumps any time a S
loan is around.”

  “I didn’t agree with her tactics—ambushing hunters and then giving them a join-or-die ultimatum. But that’s always been her way. She’s never been one for diplomacy. I think it’s safe to say you’re officially unemployed. Cat won’t hire you if the Sloan brothers don’t like you, not to mention she’d kill you personally if she knew you were a Raven.”

  Joe sneered. “I couldn’t bring myself to work alongside you again, anyway.” Then his features fell into a confused frown. “She doesn’t know you’re a Raven?”

  Kit shook his head. “No, and if she finds out, I’ll have a death sentence on my head, too. She thinks a Raven killed her brother during the Revolution, and she’s had a personal vendetta against them ever since.”

  “Did a Raven kill her brother?” Joe asked.

  “Yes. He was killed during Black Night.” Kit didn’t elaborate.

  Joe inhaled deeply. Black Night had been the turning point in the war. The Revolution was a brutal civil war that would’ve continued for years longer if it hadn’t been for the Ravens. They’d infiltrated Zenith State’s central command and assassinated all its government leaders—and anyone else who got in their way—in a bloodbath that became known as Black Night. Joe and Kit had been there, along with every other Raven they’d served alongside.

  Joe shrugged. “I’ve never kept it a secret that I’m a Raven. If Cat doesn’t know, it’s only because she’s never seen me. I still wear the banner.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” Kit said. “Most folks may not recognize the banner anymore, but those who do tend to look upon us unfavorably.”

  “Let them.” Joe eyed Kit. “You do still have the banner though, right?”

  “Of course. Once a Raven…”

  “A Raven evermore,” both men said together.

  Silence filled the room before Kit spoke again. “How did you get out of the Devil’s Playground? I didn’t think anyone left there alive.”

  “With a lot of luck and a little help from a local,” Joe replied.

  Kit blew out a breath. “And you drove all the way through Shiprock on an open-air bike?”