Hunter

by Sharon Partington

  I sent Joanna in to rent the car, even though I wasn’t totally sure I could trust her. She shifted over to the passenger side, silently, after driving it around from the rental yard. I stole a look at myself in the rearview mirror. The dressing above my swollen eye was stained with blood and I had a beautiful purple bruise decorating my left cheek.

  Lovely.

  Joanna steadfastly ignored me as we drove, staring fixedly out the passenger side window. Not talking to me. Not looking at me. The silence was seriously getting on my nerves and I almost asked her, a couple of times, what she was thinking. Then I decided fuck it. She was the one who’d created this mess, let her wallow in it if she wanted.

  The village of Meyer’s Landing hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been gone—it was still just a sleepy collection of buildings in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. Seeing it again reminded me of all the reasons I’d left it in the first place.

  “You grew up here?” Joanna asked, as we drove along the dusty street.

  I nearly choked. It was the first civil thing she’d said to me all morning. “Don’t sound so surprised. I wasn’t born a bad ass.”

  She blushed. “I knew that,” she muttered. “How far is it to your dad’s farm?”

  “About ten or fifteen klicks.”

  Another pause. “Has it been awhile since you’ve seen him?”

  “My GSF graduation. A dozen years, more or less.”

  I waited for the rest of the questions, but they didn’t come, and we drove the rest of the way in silence.

  A hard knot formed in my chest as I followed the winding road through the trees. I hadn’t exactly been the poster boy for family communication over the years and, of course, my arrest and conviction had been big news everywhere: Gage Brassan, the notorious Hunter, had been apprehended. The universe was safe from evil once more. Meyer’s Landing might be a tiny little shit-hole in the middle of nowhere, but even they had access to the news agencies.

  Sunlight dappled the pavement, and fields of ripening corn and barley could be glimpsed through the poplar and mountain ash alongside the road. I turned left at a rusted metal gate; the faded red mailbox emblazoned with the name Brassan in white letters. The lane was overgrown with grass and weeds and I had this bizarre feeling that somehow I’d driven back in time as I stared at the two-story wooden house.

  A covered porch took up most of the front, and sunlight flashed on the windows of the second story. Flowers bloomed in neatly tended beds along the front of the porch, and a tire swing hung from the lower branches of the oak tree at the side of the dirt driveway. To the right, as you came out of the house, a red and white painted barn stood, one of its doors open. Bales of straw were stacked along the inner wall and I could dimly make out the ladder leading to the loft.

  My cousins and I had played hide and seek in that barn. We’d hunted deer in the woods and dug for buried treasure in the creek behind the house. It felt like a million years ago.

  “Are we going in?” Joanna asked at last.

  I didn’t look at her. “My Dad and I have...issues. I don’t think he’ll turn me away, but he won’t exactly be thrilled to see me either.”

  “Should I wait here?”

  I thought about that. “No, it’s going to be messy either way.”

  We got out of the car and approached the house. We were halfway to the porch when the front door opened and my father stepped out. Gray streaked his short dark hair, and he wore the same blue coveralls I’d seen him in all my life. A blast-rifle rested in the crook of his arm.

  “This is private property,” he called. “Can I help you?”

  Of course he didn’t recognize me—the enhancers and my battered face made sure of that.

  I stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Hey, Dad.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied me. The enhancers might have changed the color of my eyes and hair, and altered my skin tone enough to fool the authorities, but I was still my mother’s son. My dad would see her in me no matter how many drugs I tried to hide behind. Recognition dawned slowly and I drew a deep breath, trying to read his eyes.

  He hadn’t hit me yet. Hadn’t shot at me either. I took that as a promising start.

  “I don’t recall you bein’ born with hair that color.”

  I lowered my gaze as I scrubbed my fingers through my blond locks. “Long story.”

  He nodded. “Stop a truck with your face?”

  “Something like that.”

  His gaze moved to Joanna. “She your wife?”

  “No.”

  He looked back at me. “What do you want?”

  It’s good to see you, too.

  “We need a place to stay for a few days. Until I can get us off the planet.”

  He shook his head disgustedly. “I don’t hear word one from you in years and all of a sudden, today, you figure maybe it’s time you dropped in for a visit?”

  I closed my eyes at the contempt in his voice. I must have been nuts to think I could come back here for anything. It seemed like a stupid question under the circumstances, but I had to ask. “Can we stay or not?”

  He looked from me to Joanna then back again. “How long did you say?”

  “A couple of days at most. Then we’ll disappear, and you’ll never see me again. I promise.”

  “Good enough.” He turned back toward the house. “But just to be clear, I’m not doin’ it for you. I’m doin’ it for your woman. Your mama would never forgive me if I turned away a girl in trouble. She never let me get away with it when she was alive, and I’m not about to start now. You’re in some kinda shit or you wouldn’t have come crawlin’ back here. Hide that car and come on in, wouldn’t want the neighbors asking uncomfortable questions.”

  No, we sure wouldn’t.

  ◆◆◆

  The inside of the house smelled of lemon scented wood polish and beeswax. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the faded curtains and dust motes danced in the air. The living room looked like no one had set foot in it since the day I left.

  “I reckon you know where your room is,” my Dad muttered as he leaned the blast-rifle against the wall in the foyer. “Even after a dozen years.”

  I looked at the stairs leading to the second level and had a sudden mental image of myself when I was six, sliding down the polished banister to land in a tangled, giggling, heap on the carpeted floor—and of my mother’s voice calling from the kitchen: Gage! How many times have I told you not to do that! One of these days you’re going to break your neck....

  My Dad had just said something and I missed it. Shit, Gage, pay attention.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I said your woman can have your mama’s room.”

  “Her name is Joanna.”

  “Whatever. She can have your mama’s room.”

  I suppressed a surge of anger. Joanna might be an uninvited guest on this mission, but she certainly didn’t deserve to be treated like shit. Not by him.

  Her hand touched my arm. “It’s okay, Gage. Just show me where it is and I’ll be fine.”

  Some of my anger dissipated as I led her up the stairs, pushing open the first door on the left once we reached the top.

  This had been my mother’s sewing room. An ivory and blue quilt covered the single bed, and lace curtains hung on a dormer window overlooking the back yard. An ancient rocking chair sat in the corner and another image flashed through my mind.

  Sitting curled up in my mother’s lap as she read to me. Smelling the faint fragrance of her perfume, feeling the soft fabric of her dress against my face as I listened to the gentle lilt of her voice....

  “Are you all right?” Joanna asked.

  The image dissolved. “Fine.”

  She sat on the bed. She looked about as uncomfortable as I felt. “What do we do now?”

  “I’ll have to find some way to reach my friend, Kenny. He can get us off the planet, but finding him will be a bitch. He could be anywhere.”

  “There’s
no place you can leave a message for him?”

  “Not around here. There’s a bar in Atlantia he bought into a couple of years ago; the guy who runs it might know where he is.”

  “Isn’t Atlantia off the coast of Australia?”

  “Yeah. I’ll have to call them. Find out if he’s due to arrive any time soon.”

  “And if he isn’t?”

  Then we’re fucked, girl. “I’ll have to figure out something else.”

  Joanna nodded. “So. He seems nice. Your dad.”

  Was she talking about the same man who’d met us at gun point ten minutes ago?

  “I wouldn’t know.” I turned towards the door. “I don’t know him anymore.”

  ◆◆◆

  I sat on the bed in my old room wondering what the hell I was doing here. My Dad had kept everything exactly as it had been when I left, even the posters on the paneled walls were the same. It was a little creepy.

  My gaze wandered to the dresser, to the framed academic awards hanging on the wall. To the silver and blue swimming trophy and the small collection of photographs. School friends I barely remembered—people from another life.

  My eyes shifted to the bag on the floor at my feet and I zipped it open, wishing I had my own weapons. The blaster would do, but it only came with one recharge clip—the theory being that GSF officers could resupply their ammo easily. I checked the current charge. It was almost full. Apparently killing Lansing and his entourage hadn’t used as much as I figured.

  I heard a sound and looked up to see my Dad standing in the doorway. His eyes moved from the gun to me, his expression unreadable. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry.”

  He left and I closed my eyes, running a weary hand through my hair.

  Yep. Crazy as a fucking loon. They should just lock me away for my own safety.

  Joanna was sitting at the table when I came into the kitchen. She didn’t look at me as I pulled up a chair. My Dad placed a pot in the center of the table, along with a plate of fresh bread.

  “Chicken stew,” he said. “Help yourself.”

  I scooped some into a bowl. “You’re not eating?”

  He shook his head. “Later, maybe.”

  I stirred the stew, watching the steam rise. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. I wanted to say so much. To him. To Joanna. My mind scrambled, desperately, to find something to say. A joke. A comment. Something about the weather. Anything to break that yawning, pregnant silence.

  “Do you have a com-link, Dad?” I finally asked. “I need to make a call. It’s long distance, but I’ll pay you for it.”

  “In the living room.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I have to go out,” he said, taking his jacket from a hook by the kitchen door. “I’ll be back before dark.”

  I nodded, and he left, the back door banging shut behind him.

  Between him and Joanna, it promised to be a very rocky couple of days.

  ◆◆◆

  I sat on the porch watching the sun slide behind the mountains. Clouds moved in from the east, dark black thunderheads blowing in on a rain-scented wind. The front door opened and Joanna joined me on the porch.

  “Kenny will be in Atlantia next week,” I said. “I left a message with some guy named Rico; he’ll let him know to expect us.”

  She nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I guess I really screwed things up for you, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “It’s just that Danny was...my whole life,” she said softly. “My big brother. My protector. My best friend. When I lost him, I lost a part of myself.”

  I didn’t reply, and she continued. “I remember the first time he brought you home. You barely said a word the whole time you were there. I remember I asked him a couple of times if you knew how to talk.”

  “Yeah, well. You all thought I was such a great guy. I didn’t want to spoil the illusion by saying something stupid.”

  “What happened to you, Gage? What happened to that quiet, shy boy that Danny brought home from the academy?”

  The whine of a hover car drew my attention to the drive. My Dad was back. He stumbled as he got out of the car, mumbling curses.

  Great. Lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

  “Go on inside,” I said to Joanna as I got to my feet.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  She went back in and I leaned against the porch rail as my Dad lurched toward the house. “Are you all right?” I asked, as he tripped up the steps.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Where’d your woman go?”

  “I sent her inside. Figured you might have some things to say to me, and she doesn’t need to hear them.”

  “Don’t want her to know what a fuckup you are?”

  I shrugged and sat on the step as he towered over me. “It’s not much of a secret, Dad. So, are you going to sit? Or should we wait until you fall down?”

  He stared at me blearily for a moment, then plopped down on the step, reaching for the rail to keep his balance. “Why’re you here, boy?”

  “I told you. We need a place to stay until I can get us off the planet.”

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair, shooting me a sideways look. “They said you deserted.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t wanna believe it, but you never called to give me your version, so....” He shook his head. “After a while, when I still didn’t hear from you, I figured you must be dead. And then, after...how long’s it been? Seven, eight, years? I hear on the news how you’re some kinda big time hit man. All the while you was off killin’ folks for a livin’—did it never occur to you that maybe I might wanna know you was still alive?”

  I lowered my eyes and he continued. “It kinda defies logic, son. Explain it to me. Explain to me how you went from bein’ an elite troop commander to a hired killer? That’s quite a leap, even for you.”

  I closed my eyes against the confusion and accusation in his voice. What did he want me to say? That it seemed like a good idea at the time?

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “For what? For bein’ a stone cold killer or for havin’ to admit it to me? How do you suppose it felt to find out my son’s the deadliest asshole in the galaxy? Especially since you didn’t have the balls to tell me yourself. I want to know how many you’ve killed, Gage. And I want to know why!”

  I didn’t reply and he stood up, hauling me to my feet. “Are you gonna tell me?”

  His breath was whiskey-sour in my face and I forced myself to meet his eyes. “No. I’m not.”

  He cursed and shoved me hard. I stumbled backwards off the porch and into the dirt of the drive, landing on my back. I lay there for a minute, trying to recover my breath, then I sat up slowly. He stood on the porch, watching me, his fists clenched.

  “Feel better?” I asked as I got to my feet.

  He lurched down the steps and swung at me. I stepped out of his way and he staggered past.

  “I’m not going to fight you, Dad.”

  “Why the hell not,” he growled. “Afraid you’ll kill me, like you did them others?”

  He charged at me and I stepped aside again. He sailed past, running into the front of the hover-car, where he fell to the ground, winded.

  I walked over and offered him my hand. “Come on, this is stupid. Let’s go inside.”

  He smacked my hand away and sat with his head down. “You low life criminal prick,” he whispered. “I was better off when I thought you was dead.”

  I knew he was drunk. I knew he probably didn’t mean it. It didn’t make the words hurt any less. I looked back to the house. Joanna stood in the doorway watching. I didn’t know how much she’d seen or heard, but it was probably enough to know we were pretty fucked up.

  I looked back to him. “I shouldn’t have come back here. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  ◆◆◆

  I lay in the dark staring at the ceiling. I
hadn’t bothered undressing, just kicked off my boots and covered myself with the quilt. It felt strange to be sleeping in this bed. In this house. I heard my mother’s voice in every room. Felt her presence everywhere. I remembered, now, why I’d stayed away. It wasn’t so much to escape my father as it was to escape her memory.

  A cool, damp breeze rustled the curtains through the open window. Lightning flashed and thunder growled overhead. My Dad had passed out on the couch and I’d carried him upstairs and poured him into bed. His snores came to me from his room down the hall. In the morning he probably wouldn’t remember a thing.

  “Gage? Are you awake?”

  I sat up, leaning on my elbow. Joanna stood in the doorway. She wore one of my mom’s old nightgowns and the light from the hallway made it almost transparent. I closed my eyes. Seeing her like that didn’t do much to help me maintain my professional distance.

  “Yeah.”

  She came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t sleep. It must be because I’m in a strange house.” A sudden gust of wind rattled the curtains and she shivered. “Sorry, I forgot how cool nights on Earth can be.”

  “Right, you’re a Lunar City girl. No weather up there.” I hesitated, then drew the quilt back. So much for professional distance. “Care to join me?”

  She chuckled. “I could just go back and get the robe that’s hanging on the bedroom door.”

  “You could,” I agreed.

  She looked at me for a moment then, to my surprise, she slid under the quilt. I wrapped my arms around her as she snuggled her back into my chest.

  “Are you and your Dad okay?”

  “We will be, once I’m gone.”

  “Will you tell me, now, what Lansing said?”

  I sighed. “He said the order to fire on Delta Six didn’t come from him. He said it came from within the Androsian High Command.”

  “Maybe he lied to you,” Joanna offered.

  I saw Lansing’s face again. Saw the panic and desperation in his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “But you killed him anyway?”

  “He was a loose end.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “He gave me a couple of leads, I’ll follow them and see what I can turn up.”