Lone Gunfighter of the Wastelands

by Rachel Aukes

  Cat stood, leaning on her desk as she scrutinized Kit, as though she could figure him out by watching him. She had his sword on her desk, inches from her hand, and he wondered if she planned to use it to execute him, though he’d never seen her get her hands dirty before. He noticed the blaster next to his sword—that complicated things.

  She raised a finger. “I knew something was up when you accepted a half-payment without a single complaint. That was your first mistake.”

  “And my second?” Kit asked.

  “Using a desk-jockey in the field.” She pulled up a video feed and displayed it as a hologram. It showed Reuben very un-stealthily entering—and later exiting—the security room. Kit grimaced. “It goes to show how incompetent Sloan’s soldiers are that they didn’t notice.” She shook her head. “But what I don’t understand is why you did it. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been a loner who keeps to yourself. You have no friends. I know you’ve had qualms with the more unsavory tickets, but otherwise, you’ve been a solid hunter. What made you throw away a good career? More than that, what made you throw your life away? It’s not like you owe those Haft hunters anything.”

  He could see straight now, and his breathing had leveled out: his chance was near. He answered her after a length. “Because I served with Havoc in the Revolution.”

  She frowned. “You fought in the Revolution?” Her frown deepened. “But Havoc’s a…” she trailed off.

  His lips curved upward. “A Raven.”

  Her eyes widened. Kit swung out and grabbed the knife. He yanked it from its sheath as he jumped to his feet. Lobo reached for his blaster. Kit stabbed the blade into Lobo’s exoshield just above the hip, where the armor had less plating to allow for movement. As he stabbed, he grabbed Lobo by the shoulder and spun him toward Cat, using him as a shield. Cat’s desk was near a second door. Kit had no idea what was behind it, but he knew it had to be better than trying to escape through the atrium.

  Cat grabbed her blaster and started firing. Most of the shots hit either Lobo or the wall behind Kit. Most of them. One hit him in the right arm, and he lost his grip on the knife. He opened the door and shoved Lobo the last couple of feet toward Cat, sending the man toppling into his boss. Kit dove through the doorway.

  He closed and locked the door behind him, knowing it bought him mere seconds. A nanosecond scan revealed the room to be living quarters. A window above a sofa let in moonlight from across the room. He sprinted, leapt onto the sofa, and smashed into the window…and was knocked back onto the floor.

  Kit shook his head to clear it. The damn thing hadn’t even cracked. He noticed barstools lining a tall countertop against a side wall. He grabbed a stool and jumped back onto the sofa. He was about to swing when blaster fire pelted the window and walls around him. The shots shattered the glass. He gave a mental shrug at the small bit of fortune, tossed the barstool at Cat, and jumped up and grabbed the pane. Glass shards sliced through his palms in sharp agony, but he managed to pull himself up and through the opening. More glass cut through his pants, and he rolled off the ledge.

  Kit fell at least six feet and landed on his back. It took him a couple of seconds to regain his senses. He pushed to his feet and glanced up to see Cat reach the windowsill. He took off running in what he hoped was the right direction, her fire at his back. He instinctively covered his head as he sprinted to get around the next curve of the exterior.

  The government building was designed as a single long atrium with multiple domed branches for offices, living quarters, and other spaces. At night, these branches resembled tumors on the otherwise smooth exterior. Blaster fire kept coming, and Kit felt heat graze his cheek. He ran around the next domed branch and leaned against the warm stone to catch his breath. Behind him, Cat let out a furious scream. He took off at a run. He held his arm close to his body as he ran, but it did little to stem the pain. Spears of pain shot through his arm with every jolt. His hands burned from the deep cuts, and he kept them fisted to help stanch the blood.

  Kit reached the final edge of the building before slowing to a walk. He spotted his cutter. Silver Shark practically glowed in the moonlight, and he took off toward it. He looked left to the main entrance, where two murcs stood guard. If Cat hadn’t sounded the alarms yet, it was only a matter of time before the soldiers came out of every doorway like bees protecting their hive.

  The alarms sounded.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “That’s Kit!” Nick pointed to the lone figure running toward the road with two murcs running after him. One was raising his blaster to fire.

  Val made a beeline toward the man. “Open the door, and make way for him,” she ordered.

  Nick did as told and piled into the back seat with Romy and Champ. The sheriff pulled her cutter in front of the sprinting man’s path and yelled, “Get in!”

  He didn’t hesitate. He dove into the passenger seat just as blaster fire pelted her rig’s shell. The instant he was inside, she throttled forward and the vehicle sped away.

  “That paint had just mellowed down to the patina I like,” she muttered to herself.

  Nick leaned forward between the front bucket seats. “Hey, Kit.” His eyes went wide. “Oh no. You’re hurt.”

  Kit turned to see the kids in the back seat with the dog pressed between them. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We’re on a mission with Val,” Romy answered.

  “A brothel’s no place for kids,” Val added.

  “And getting shot at in a cutter is?” Kit asked.

  Val wrinkled her nose. “It was more because I didn’t trust the madame.”

  “I didn’t trust her either,” Kit said, then grunted. He held his right arm with a bloody hand, and his features were tight.

  She scowled at the amount of blood dripping from his hands. “You’re bleeding a lot. How bad are your injuries?”

  He glanced down. “Nothing that’ll hold me back. A few cuts on my hands, maybe a few minor cuts on my legs, and a blaster burn on my arm. There was a lot of glass.”

  “Was the blast a through-and-through?”

  He winced. “No. Just a glancing hit. But still hurts like hell.”

  She nodded. “Hang in there. I’ll get you patched up after we get off the road.”

  “Thanks.” He then eyed Val and her blasters with suspicion. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Val.” She smirked. “And that’s the kind of thing most people would ask before jumping into a cutter with a complete stranger.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m getting shot at while I’m running for my life,” Kit said dryly.

  “Is Joe okay?” Nick interjected. “Why isn’t he with you?”

  Kit’s brow furrowed. “Things went south, and we got separated, but I’ll go back in for both him and your mom, I swear it, kid.”

  “You’re going back in?” Val asked.

  “Yeah, I guess I have to.” He didn’t sound very happy about it.

  “Good.” She glanced at her map to see several blips leaving the vicinity of the MRC building. She turned down a side road before she spoke again. “Romy called me.”

  She glanced back to see the shy girl give a sweet shrug, and Val gave her a smile.

  Val continued. “Romy said something about Havoc and a few of his buddies starting a war against Gabriel Sloan. That’s a war I’m not going to miss.”

  “It’s a war that we’re not going to miss. Right, Val?” Nick clarified.

  Val nodded. “Right, kiddo.”

  Kit inclined his head at Val. He went to speak, but Nick patted his shoulder. “Romy and I are going with you this time, Kit. And you know what? If you’d let us go with you last time, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten yourself all shot up.”

  Kit laughed. “You’re probably right, kid.” He kept his gaze on Val. “I’m not keen on taking kids to a gunfight.”

  “It’s not what you think. They won’t be in direct action; they won’t even enter the building. My plan
needs them if we’re going to make this work.” She shot a wink to the back seat. “We’re a team.”

  Nick grinned. “See, Kit? We’re a team.”

  “Besides,” Val continued, “they look like they can be a lot more help to me right now than you.”

  He couldn’t exactly disagree. Kit’s face constricted in pain, and he tugged apart the hole in his sleeve to examine his arm.

  She reached in front of him, popped open the dash, moved her spare blaster to the side, and pulled out a pill bottle. She handed it to Romy. “Here. Open this up, give Kit a pill. Nick, see if you can’t find a rag back there for Kit.”

  “I don’t need painkillers,” Kit said through a clenched jaw.

  “You’d better make it two pills, Romy,” Val corrected, then added, “Don’t worry about these pills—these are weak. They won’t cloud your mind. I need your head in the game. We have to get each other up to speed.”

  Romy went to hand Kit the pills. He struggled to take them from her with his injured hands. “Open wide like a baby bird,” Romy said and plopped them in his mouth.

  “You can’t even hold a pill. How can you hold a blaster?” Val said.

  “I’ll tape it to my hand if I have to,” Kit replied.

  She glanced over to see that he was serious. “How in the world did you get out of there without any weapons?”

  “A whole lot of luck. Plus, Cat’s a terrible shot.”

  Val frowned. “Cat as in Cat, the head of the Iron Guild?”

  “The one and only—and my boss, although it’s safe to say I’m excommunicated now.”

  “Ah,” Val said. “You’re a bounty hunter. So that’s how you know Havoc.”

  He shook his head. “No. We’re with different guilds. I fought alongside him in the wars.”

  She grunted in surprise. “Don’t tell me. Another Raven?”

  He sighed. “He really needs to stop wearing the banner.”

  She swallowed the distaste in her mouth. “We all have pasts, and that’s where they should stay. What I need to know is if you were serious when you said you were going back in there.”

  “I am. I’ll be good to go after I get myself patched up. I gave my word, and once given, I keep it. Plus, I need to get my sword back.”

  She eyed him for a length and decided that he was being sincere. “Okay. I can handle most of the work, but it’ll be good that we go in together. Murcs travel in pairs, so two of us will stand out even less than one would.”

  “We’re going in as murcs,” he said.

  She nodded. “We just need to find ourselves a couple of uniforms.”

  “That’ll be easy enough in Cavil. There’s as many murcs as there are cockroaches here.”

  “Ew, cockroaches are nasty,” Nick said.

  “But they don’t taste so bad,” Romy said.

  Nick’s face contorted. “Gross!”

  The kids started to poke at each other, so Val continued speaking with Kit. “I’ve been gathering intel on Gabriel Sloan and that admin building for months. Fitting in a rescue complicates things, but it’s not a show-stopper. At least one of the Sloan brothers will die tomorrow.” She checked the map again. The blips were still there, but farther away. “We have to get off the road for a few hours. We need someplace that’s close and that no one knows about.”

  Kit shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I live in Copper Gulch.”

  “And I’m from Clearwater.” She glanced back at the kids, but they were watching her expectantly. She thought for a minute, then slowed and took a hard right. “I know someone who lives nearby; he goes by the name Grundy Campo. He has no love for politics, so I think we’ll be safe there. He’s an old-timer who’s had a lot of interesting experiences. Some of them are even true.”

  She drove several more blocks deeper into Far Town, until she came to a dilapidated row of homes, all hooked together. She parked behind the home in the middle. She glanced at Kit. “Just so you know, Grundy’s not a fan of a lot of things, including bounty hunters.”

  He nodded.

  The four of them exited the cutter, though Val noticed Kit struggled with the handle. But since he didn’t ask for help, she didn’t offer.

  The door to the house opened with a creak, and a bent old man hobbled outside. He held up a cane as he shielded his eyes against the house light above his head. “Is that you, Val?”

  Val smiled as she walked to meet him. “It’s me, old man.”

  He grinned, showing yellowed teeth, and reached out to embrace her. “That is you. How long has it been, girl? Five years since they suckered you into wearing that badge?”

  “Eight years,” she said as she hugged him.

  When she pulled away, he looked at the others with her. “Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a family now.”

  She laughed. “A family life isn’t in the cards for me.” She motioned first to Kit. “This is Kit, my deputy who could use some rest.” She shot Kit a quick glance and saw that he didn’t even blink at her lie, and she was glad. While Grundy was old, he was still quick on the take. She then motioned to the kids. “This is Nick and Romy. The dog’s name’s Champ. They all belong to a local who got herself taken by Gabriel Sloan.”

  Grundy spat on the ground. “Sloan. There’s been no good that’s come from anyone by that name.”

  “We need a place to lie low for a few hours,” she said.

  He motioned. “Well, come on in, then. I’ll put some tea on the stove.”

  He disappeared inside, and Val saw the kids eying her. “Grundy’s a good man. It’s safe here. I promise.” She waved them toward the ramshackle place.

  When they entered, she looked at Kit. “My first aid kit’s in the back.”

  Kit followed her around to the back of her vehicle. “So, I’m a deputy now? Does that mean I get a badge?”

  She smirked. “Sure, but you’ll find the pay isn’t as good for honest work.”

  “Being a bounty hunter is honest work. Do the job and get paid. Not any different than any other kind of honest work.”

  She didn’t answer. She’d seen too many bounty hunters pass through Clearwater in her day, and too few of them seemed to be laden with scruples.

  She opened up the back of her cutter, and Kit took a step closer.

  “All this is yours?” he asked.

  She smiled at the stacks of blasters, grenades, and even a grenade launcher. “I told you, I came ready for war.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “If you think things can’t get worse, it’s because you have no imagination,” Rex said as he lay on his back on the stone slab bench.

  It was odd seeing a hunter in full exoshield in a prison cell. Joe had expected to be stripped of their shields, but Sloan had left them with their armor for their execution, planning to make a “show” that even feared bounty hunters were powerless before the MRC.

  “We’re going to be executed. How could things get worse than that?” Reuben, who still wore the stolen uniform, asked.

  “They could torture us before they execute us,” Rex replied thoughtfully.

  “Forget I asked.” Reuben groaned. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Like what?”

  Reuben thought for a moment. “I don’t know. How about what happened in Westown? You said you had a chance to kill Cat in Westown, but you didn’t go through with it. Why? You hate Cat.”

  Rex was quiet for a length. “Sorry, Reuben. I promised your mom I wouldn’t talk about Westown.”

  “My mom was there?”

  Rex didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Rex. We’re going to be dead in a few hours,” Reuben said.

  “As long as we’re not in front of the firing squad, we’ve got a chance to get out of here.” Rex sat up and looked at Joe. “You’ve been awfully quiet over there. Working out ideas for our great escape?”

  Joe frowned. “I came up with two ideas so far. Unfortunately, neither one will work.”

  “Then keep thinki
ng.”

  Joe turned to Rex. “You can start thinking up ideas, too.”

  Rex held up his hands. “Hey, it may look like I’m doing nothing, but I’m actively waiting for a grand rescue.”

  Joe’s brows rose. “And exactly who is going to pull off a rescue?”

  Rex nodded at the speaker in the hall outside their cell. “That alarm that went off earlier? That had to be your buddy Turbo causing problems. If he broke out, then he’ll come back for us.”

  Joe’s lips thinned. “He might come back for Sara, but he has no reason to come back for us.”

  “There you go, being a pessimist. I think I like you better as an optimist,” Rex grumbled.

  “There’s not a lot to be optimistic about right now,” Reuben cut in. “We tried to do the right thing and look where it got us.”

  “Right thing?” Rex’s features tightened as though he was genuinely confused. “I thought we were just having fun.”

  Reuben blew out a breath and waved his hand around the dank cell. “This stuff doesn’t get to you?”

  Rex shrugged. “I’m more of a ‘crying on the inside’ kind of guy.”

  Joe heard footfalls outside their cell, and turned to see Gabriel Sloan with guards on each side and another pair walking behind him. Sloan came to a stop in front of the cell.

  “I trust my accommodations are sufficient,” he said stately.

  Rex spoke first. “I prefer down pillows over—what’s this?—limestone bedding. It’s a bit too firm on the back.”

  Sloan sneered. “Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about a stiff back for long. My brother arrives by noon, at which time I host your execution.”

  “Sounds like quite the party,” Joe said dryly.

  “Oh, it will be. Just before your deaths, I’ll announce that exoshields are officially outlawed across the Midlands. Bounty hunters will no longer have the sway of fear over the general population.” Sloan turned to Reuben, who seemed small standing between the two armored hunters. “If only you’d done as you were told, then none of this would have happened. It’s so simple. You receive a job.” He held out one hand, then the other. “And you complete the job. Yet the Haft Agency failed time and again.”