by John Bowers
Joel and the scarecrow bolted into the storm, one running in each direction. Before the bald man could move, the hovervan pilot fired a laser bolt at Nick, the shot flashing off his vest. Nick returned fire and killed the pilot with a single shot, but the bald man grabbed the girl as a shield and drew his own weapon. He and Nick fired at the same time; Nick’s shot smoked through the man’s left eye, and the return shot hit Nick’s vest at the collarbone. For the second time, the vest saved him.
Nick started for the girl, who’d been dragged down by her captor when he fell. His arm was still around her, and she struggled in panic to free herself. Nick didn’t see the third Sirian until he fired. The shot came from the rear door of the hovervan—it hit Nick in the left arm, just above the elbow, and spun him around. A second shot flashed past his head as he fell, and a third gouged the ground next to him. Desperately, he rolled to his right and brought his pistol up again, but the gunman had ducked back into the van.
The girl had worked herself free and leaped to her feet. Panicked, she fled toward the pickup and ducked behind it.
“Get down!” Nick shouted. “¡Baje!” But he didn’t know if she heard.
Panting, he got to his knees and scrambled toward the van, ducking down in front of it for cover. His left arm was numb, and his shirt sleeve felt wet. How badly he was hit he had no idea, but he felt dazed and a little light-headed. He knew he had no time to rest, because the gunman was still inside the van, and might get the drop on him at any minute. He peered up at the pilot’s forward windscreen, but could see nothing behind it. Hopefully no one could look down and see him, either.
He considered the gunman’s options. The pilot was dead, so was the skin headed guy. He could hear feminine cries from inside the vehicle, so there were women in there, which meant Nick couldn’t just start shooting up the inside. The gunman could come out and try to finish Nick off, or he might try to take the controls and lift off, either to return to Texiana or continue to the Outback. As grim as Nick’s situation was, he decided the gunman had a harder decision to make.
Nick peered around the corner of the van, but saw only the dead bald guy. He considered trying to get to the front door and maybe crawl inside, but he had no idea where the third Sirian might be—and dared not fire randomly inside the van.
He looked back toward the pickup. He could no longer see the girl, and hoped she hadn’t run too far. Graves and the old guy had disappeared, but the pickup was their transportation, and in this weather they wouldn’t likely abandon it. If the girl tried to escape, they might catch up to her again.
A wave of dizziness washed over him. He took a deep breath and blinked, trying to stay focused.
“¡Muchacha! ¿Donde estás?”
The girl didn’t answer, and the wind was too loud to hear her crying if she was nearby. He debated making a dash for the pickup, but if the gunman was watching for him, he would be clearly exposed for several seconds. On the other hand, if he stayed where he was, the gunman could wait him out. His arm was bleeding steadily, and before too long the blood loss would take him out of action. The situation looked impossible.
Stalemate.
Chapter 20
“You may think you have everything under control, but fortunes can reverse rapidly. Allies, no matter how unlikely they may seem, can save your life. Don’t take them lightly.”
—Professor Milligan, U.F. Marshal Academy
Nathan Green kept his eyes on the radar console as he sped through the dust at speeds only an immortal would dare. He knew the road and he knew the country—the intersection of highways was only minutes ahead. He wished the damn wind would stop, but Sirius A had only been down a few minutes and he knew the wind would continue another couple of hours before it abated. He had to keep going.
He hoped Nick wouldn’t be angry. Nick had made him promise to stick to their plan, but Nathan had a gut feeling that he couldn’t explain. The tension on Nick’s face as he left town had spoken volumes about what might happen…at least what Nick thought might happen—and if something did happen and Nathan waited until evening to report him missing, it might well be too late. If Nick was upset with him, then so be it. Better that than have to bury another U.F. Marshal.
The radar picked up three images just ahead and Nathan let off the accelerator. He’d been keeping track of miles covered and knew he was just about at the intersection. Three radar images almost certainly meant three separate vehicles; one would probably be Nick’s, another might be the Texiana slave transport.
What could the third one be?
Nathan felt his skin tingle at the possibilities. He swallowed down his adrenaline and slowed to a near hover, peering through the windscreen as the radar images loomed close. Dropping to a few feet above the ground, he inched forward until the hovervan appeared out of the dust…
…and saw Nick crouched in front of it.
* * *
Nick’s heart almost stopped when he heard the hovercar coming up behind him. Could the guy inside the van have called for help? If so, Nick was totally exposed. He twisted around to bring his gun arm to bear, and took aim as headlights materialized out of the gloom. The car eased to a halt ten feet from him and settled to the ground. Nick aimed at the windscreen and waited, hardly daring to breathe.
The clamshell popped open, and Nick saw a figure tumble out. He had no shot, but shifted his aim toward where the pilot had gone. A second later he saw Nathan Green crawling toward him.
What the hell was Nathan doing here?
“Nathan! Don’t move! There’s a guy in the van with a laser pistol!”
Nathan froze, glancing up at the van’s windscreen.
“I don’t see him!” he shouted back, his voice barely audible in the wind.
“Can you see inside?”
“Yeah, but there’s no one in sight.”
Nick shifted his position and took a peek around the edge of the vehicle. No one in sight. Making a snap decision, he leaped to his feet and dashed toward Nathan’s car, dodging behind the pilot’s door. He sank to the ground, his back to the car, and heaved a deep sigh. He was surprised how much the simple move had sapped his energy.
Nathan hunkered down beside him, his face tense. “You’ve been shot!” he gasped. “How bad is it?”
“I dunno. It’s bleeding pretty bad, I think. Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Yeah, in the trunk. Stay here.”
“Keep your head down!”
Nick kept an eye on the hovervan while Nathan moved to the rear of the car. The pilot’s seat was clearly visible through the front window, but no one was in sight. The women had stopped crying—or at least he couldn’t hear them over the wind—so he could only guess what was happening inside. Or what the gunman might do next.
His left arm was starting to hurt.
Nathan returned with a medical kit and began binding the wound. Nick didn’t think the bone was broken, but the muscle was torn and the arm wouldn’t be much good for a while. At least the bleeding was stopped.
“I thought I told you to stay in town,” Nick gritted when Nathan had finished the dressing.
“Are you really unhappy that I didn’t?”
Nick had to laugh. He shook his head.
“No. But now I have to worry about your safety as well as my own.”
“What’s going on, anyway? What happened here?”
Nick filled him in briefly, keeping an eye on the van.
“So what do we do now?” Nathan asked. “You need to get to the doctor.”
“I can’t just walk away from this,” Nick told him. “That van is full of kidnap victims, and there’s still a girl over by the pickup, I think. And those other two jokers are probably still around, too.”
Nathan sat silent a moment, thinking.
“The women in the van aren’t your responsibility,” he said. “They’re from Texiana. If I can find the other girl, we can get out of here and take her with us.”
“It’s not that simple, N
athan! I started this and I have to finish it.”
“You have a hole in you. My dad would tell you to come back and finish it when you’re healthy.”
Nick winced with pain and stared at the boy thoughtfully. “Your dad, huh?”
Nathan nodded. “Smartest man I know,” he said. “Until I met you, that is.”
Nick smiled weakly and turned his attention back to the hovervan. “Okay, then. You go about twenty yards straight back behind this car, until you can’t see the van any more. Then you circle around to the pickup and see if you can find that girl. I don’t know her name, but she’s about thirteen or so. Do you speak Spanic?”
“Not a word.”
“Then memorize this—tell her ‘quiero ayudarle’. Can you say that?”
Nathan tried it. “Kee arrow…”
“Quiero ayudarle. Try it again.”
“Kee-etto aw you dar lay.”
“That’s perfect. Keep repeating it. It means ‘I want to help you’.”
“Kee-etto aw you dar lay. Doesn’t she speak Standard?”
“Probably, but so do the men who kidnapped her. She might respond to you better if she hears her own language.”
Nathan nodded. “Okay.”
Nick checked the situation again, then nodded at Nathan. “Go!”
* * *
Nathan Green was about as scared as he’d ever been—but he was also excited. Following Nick’s instructions, he ran bent over until he was out of sight of the hovervan, then circled to his right about twenty yards and turned back toward the scene. The pickup appeared out of the gloom, directly between him and the hovervan. Keeping his head down, and his pistol in his right hand, he crept up to it, not sure who or what he might find.
When he was within ten feet, he saw the girl, curled up on the ground, resting her back against the front wheel. Her knees were pulled up to her chin with her arms wrapped around them, her forehead buried in her knees, almost an upright fetal position. Nathan stopped a few feet away and knelt in front of her.
“Kee-etto aw you dar lay,” he said softly.
The girl’s head jerked up, her eyes wide with fright.
“¡No!” she cried. “¡No molésteme! ¡No molésteme!”
She leaped to her feet and dashed into the field, disappearing into the swirling dust.
“Wait! I’m a friend! Kee-etto aw you dar lay!”
The girl was gone. Nathan raced after her.
The field lay fallow, the ground plowed and soft. Nathan struggled through the loose dirt, hoping the girl hadn’t veered right or left. He still couldn’t see her, and the wind noise was too great to hear any sound she might make. After thirty yards he was winded, and stopped in frustration. Now what?
The girl screamed, just a few yards ahead. The scream turned hysterical, and she chattered words he didn’t understand. He lunged forward…
…and almost ran over Slim Owens.
Slim was wrestling with the girl, and looked up in surprise as Nathan appeared almost beside him. He recovered quickly and backed away, pulling the girl against him. “She’s mine, motherfucker!” he shouted. “Go find your own girl!”
“What!” Nathan was startled.
Slim saw his hesitation, and his eyes narrowed. He shoved the girl aside and lunged for the boy. Nathan took a step backward, but lost his footing in the soft dirt and fell. Slim had cocked his fist to swing, but when Nathan fell he lost his balance, tripped over the boy’s feet, and landed on his face in the deep sand. He pushed himself up and tried to lunge again, but Nathan scooted backward and kicked at him with his boot. Slim regained his feet, looming over Nathan, and came at him again.
“I’ll kill yew, motherfucker!” he shouted.
Nathan had held onto the pistol, and jerked it upward so Slim could see it.
The scrawny man hesitated, then shook his head. “Yew don’t have the guts, boy!” he panted. He hesitated another few seconds, as if to assure himself he had evaluated correctly, then lunged at Nathan again.
Nathan fired.
* * *
Nick thought he heard the chirp of a laser pistol, but couldn’t be sure. The wind was so violent now that it was almost hurricane force, all sound subordinated to the steady roar around him. He listened carefully, his heart pounding. If anything happened to that kid, he would be responsible.
He checked the hovervan again, but still saw no movement, save the steady rocking of the vehicle under the gusting wind. He couldn’t see the rear door, so the Sirian inside could have exited the vehicle and gone after Nathan. If that were the case, the women inside would be alone, and Nick might be able to rescue them.
He wallowed in indecision for all of ten seconds. He was a United Federation Marshal, and whatever caution had been mandated before was now nullified if Nathan was in trouble. Wounded or not, Nick had to take action. With a deep breath, he darted away from the cover of Nathan’s car and pressed himself against the front of the van. He peered around the corner again, still saw nothing but the man he’d killed, and leaped into the open doorway of the van. Keeping his head down, hoping the wind would cover any sound he made, he mounted the steps, crouched, and risked a glance down the aisle.
It looked like a prison bus. The women were all on the left side of the vehicle, packed into cells behind metal cages. He couldn’t count them, but saw at least twenty, probably more. More importantly, he saw the Sirian gunman standing at the rear door, looking out across the field. He’d heard the pistol shot too, and was checking to see if Nick had somehow flanked him.
Nick stood upright, his pistol leveled.
“Freeze!” he shouted.
The gunman wheeled, panic in his eyes. Nick had hoped he would surrender, but hadn’t really expected him to. He didn’t. At the sight of Nick his gun hand came up, and Nick didn’t hesitate. He fired three quick shots and saw them all hit. Amid a sudden chorus of shrill screams, the Sirian slammed backward into the rear panel of the hovervan and sat down abruptly. Smoke curled lazily from his shirt even as his laser pistol tumbled down the steps onto the ground.
Panting from stress, Nick hurried forward and bent over the man, quickly checking him for more weapons. He didn’t find any, but it didn’t matter anyway. The Sirian’s eyes had glazed, his head lolled unnaturally to the side. Blood flowed out of three chest wounds, and Nick found no pulse in his neck.
He straightened up slowly, breathing heavily. The van was clear, but Nathan was still out there. And someone had fired a laser pistol.
Ignoring the women in the cages, Nick stumbled down the rear steps and lurched through the dust toward the pickup. When he reached it he found tracks in the dirt, but nothing else. Nathan wasn’t there, and neither was the girl. Feeling weaker than ever, his pistol still in his hand, he leaned against the pickup for support and peered into the field. Could Nathan have gone that way?
Gathering his strength, he pushed away from the pickup and started into the field…
...and stopped.
Nathan and the girl appeared in front of him, heads down against the sandy blizzard. The girl was leaning against Nathan, and his arm was around her shoulders. The girl still looked frightened, but was holding onto the boy for dear life.
“Nathan?”
Nathan stopped and looked up.
“Nick!” His face was ashen, his eyes looked haunted.
“What happened? Did you fire a shot?”
Nathan nodded. “I think I—I killed him.”
“Who? Who did you kill?”
“I dunno. He tried to take the girl, and then he came at me.”
“What did he look like?”
“El malo,” the girl told Nick. “The bad man, the old ugly one.”
Nick stared at the girl and knelt in front of her.
“Are you okay?”
“Ahora, sí. Those men me molestaron.”
“Do you know them?”
She shook her head.
Nick laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe now.”
“What did she say?” Nathan asked.
“Two men raped her. The one you killed and another one. I’m guessing Joel Graves.”
Nathan was silent for a moment.
“And they were going to sell her as a slave,” he guessed.
Nick nodded. He looked toward the hovervan. “Can you pilot that thing?”
“What about the other gunman?”
“He’s dead.”
Nathan looked surprised, but was too stressed to ask for details. He stood swaying in the wind, as if he had drifted off to sleep.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
Nathan shook his head. “I killed a man,” he said slowly. “I can’t believe it. I killed him.”
“It sounds like you didn’t have a choice. You had to save the girl.”
Nathan nodded, but added nothing.
“Can you pilot the hovervan?” Nick asked again.
Nathan nodded. “No problem.”
“Okay, move your car out of the road and lock it. We’ll have to come back for the vehicles. We need to get all these women to Kline Corners. And we’ll take the dead men with us.”
Nathan nodded again, but his mind seemed to be drifting. Nick dropped his pistol into its holster and placed his right hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Nathan? I need you to focus. Our mission isn’t over yet. You can think about things when we get home. Right now we have work to do.”
Nathan’s eyes widened slightly, as if awareness were just dawning on him. He met Nick’s gaze, frowned, and nodded.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll move the car.”
Nick patted his shoulder and stepped aside. Nathan released the girl and walked into the swirling dust. The girl took Nick’s hand and followed him to the hovervan.
She was going home.
Chapter 21
In a remote posting, the limitations of legal infrastructure will be one of your greatest challenges.
Page 299, U.F. Marshal Handbook
Joel Graves waited twenty minutes after he heard the hovervan lift off and head east. He thought it might be a trick to lure him out, but when he heard nothing but the singing wind for twenty minutes, he made his way back to the intersection. Carefully, ready to bolt again if necessary. The pickup was still there, along with the taxi from Green’s garage. Slim was gone. The girl was gone.
