Mayhem and Mutiny

by Charissa Dufour

  She hobbled to her feet and limped toward the exit, both legs needing favoring. She reached the door, slammed into the emergency release bar, and stumbled out into the piercing sunlight. Hurrying as fast as her injuries would allow, she headed down the street. She pulled off her hat, not surprised to find its top scorched. With the hat tucked into her trousers, she wrapped the damp scarf around her head.

  After the first block, she spotted a building under construction. She climbed the stairs, gritting her teeth as her sweat dribbled into her wounds. The building was nearing completion. She entered a random apartment on the third floor, unable to climb any higher, and slipped silently into a closet. In the darkness, she collapsed on the floor, fading into oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “What was that?” Randal asked as Jack clipped his comm. device to his belt.

  “Nathyn. It seems Blaine escaped, setting fire to the ship.” Jack held up a hand to forestall any questions. “The ship is okay, just Dir-Forrest’s room got a little singed. They think he came to the surface.”

  “Of course he did. He’s obsessed with Bit,” snapped Reese.

  Jack nodded. “Well, we can’t find him and Bit at the same time. We’ll just have to find Bit before he does.”

  The men nodded and followed him down the street.

  “Jack, we need to stop… get a room,” whispered Randal as he matched his pace with his captain’s.

  Jack frowned at the larger man. “We just got to the suburb. We haven’t even started looking for Bit or this Wic man.”

  “It’s three in the morning. The men have been running on cat naps for the last three days. They need sleep. Real sleep. If we find Bit and she’s in trouble, we’re not going to be any help. They need to rest.”

  Jack let out a long sigh. If he allowed himself to admit it, his own body was screaming for a real bed. He glanced around the street, spotting an annoyingly bright sign.

  “There’s a bar. Let’s stop there for a drink and some food, and I’ll ask about a motel or hostel.”

  Randal nodded and they veered toward the neon sign. Jack was amazed at the number of people still out and about in the wee hours of the morning. The city never slept, but considering the population, he realized it was more a statistical probability that people would come out at night than any sort of raging nightlife. They weaved through the crowd and reached the bar.

  It was surprisingly empty.

  “What are we doing here, Jack?” Calen asked after a mighty yawn.

  “Getting a bite to eat and seeing about a motel.”

  “But, Cap,” began Reese, “we need to keep looking.”

  “Not until we’ve all had some rest,” replied Randal.

  Jack nodded. “Go sit. I’ll talk with the bartender.”

  The men grumbled but obeyed. They found a large booth and scooted in. Despite their protests, Jack expected half of them to be asleep before he returned with their food.

  “What can I help you with?” asked the man behind the counter.

  “I’ve got a horde of men in need of meat.”

  The bartender chuckled. “I got a carnivore platter that usually feeds ten or so.”

  “Perfect. They’ll finish it off. And a round of drinks.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get the drinks for you now.”

  Jack took up a perch on a stool and glanced over at the man sharing the bar. He was a bear of a man, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. At first, Jack shifted to look back at the bartender, but suddenly an aspect of his appearance came into focus. He turned back to the man and eyed the two small tattoos under the man’s left eye.

  “I would not suggest staring,” growled the young man without looking at Jack.

  Jack couldn’t believe his luck. “I don’t suppose your name is Wic.”

  The stranger rolled his eyes over to Jack before taking another pull of his beer. “Yeah. Why you asking?”

  “I met your men up in Dobsonville. Your second told me to tell you ‘The birds sing for you.’”

  The large man quickly shifted in his seat, releasing his beer bottle and examining Jack. “Who are you and why does my second tell me to align with you?”

  “Captain Jack Macleef of the freighter Lenore. And Bit is my indentured servant.” Jack couldn’t believe his luck, stumbling on the very man he had needed to find; now if only finding Bit were as easy.

  The man’s eyes grew wide.

  “I don’t have her. And if I did, I don’t know I’d give her over. I’m not one for slavery.”

  Jack gave him a grim smile. “Nor am I. It’s a long story, but needless to say, I need to find her.”

  “And Enam says I should work with you?”

  “Is Enam your second? I never caught his name. Look, we were in your neighborhood, and some of Rudy’s men came after us and crossed the border. See we pissed off Rudy while looking for Bit. Your men came to our aide. When I told them what we were about, they sent us after you.”

  Wic stared at him for a moment before nodding. “All right, then, but I won’t be much help. Your girl’s slipped the net every time I’ve approached her.”

  Jack nodded. “Bit is rather good at that. I understand her knee is injured.”

  “More than that I’m afraid.” Wic took another swig of his beer. “I was chasing her in a manufacturing plant. I think she’s been burned. Pretty badly, too. And I think she has injured her back, too, though I can’t say for sure on that one. “

  Jack let out a long, worried sigh. “How is she still evading us?”

  “Sheer willpower. You know what she’s after? Her pattern seems erratic at best.”

  “She’s after a previous owner. A man named Douglas Zandri. From what I understand, Zandri got Bit’s sister pregnant, and when her sister died, Zandri shipped the baby off to who knows where.”

  “Here’s your drink,” announced the bartender, interrupting their conversation.

  Jack picked up the tray. “Come join my men.”

  Wic rose from his bar stool and followed Jack over to the booth, his own drink in hand. It would be tight, but they could squeeze in two more men.

  “Boys, let me introduce Wic. It seems, for once, luck is on our side.”

  The men cheered, one of them nudging Calen who had, in fact, fallen asleep. Jack set the tray of beers onto the table and took a seat, motioning for Wic to seat himself beside Randal. Jack made quick introductions.

  “So why did Bit come down to Alberton?” Wic asked once the group had settled into an awkward silence.

  “Zandri used to work for a company we shipped for. He was our contact,” explained Jack. “We have a frequency trail that leads to Alberton, but we were here a few days ago and couldn’t find anything.”

  “I have some contacts. We can ask around. And we should check the medical stations in this neighborhood. See if she sees a doctor.”

  “She won’t,” replied Randal. “She’ll get the supplies and doctor herself.”

  Wic gnawed on his bottom lip. “I’m worried she might be beyond that.”

  “You don’t know our girl,” replied Oden. “She’s as stubborn as an ass.”

  “And remind me, why do you want her back?”

  “She has a really nice ass,” announced Reese.

  The other men exclaimed their astonishment and threw their beer caps at him. Finally, the fake punches and loud objections died down.

  “No, really. She’s a much-loved member of the crew. We won’t leave without her,” replied Jack.

  “Then I’ll do everything I can to help you find her,” said Wic, reaching across the table.

  “And we’ll owe you a favor.”

  Jack and Wic shook hands across the table scattered with beer caps.

  Bit woke with a jerk and a grimace as her trousers rubbed against the burn. She cracked open the door and crawled out of her hiding place, avoiding putting weight on her knee. She climbed to her feet and limped out of the apartment. Once down the stairs, she opened the d
oor to the unfinished building and squinted in the morning sun.

  She had slept the night away.

  Looking down at the grimy bandaging on her hand and wrist, and the two new burns, Bit knew she needed to find medical care more than anything else.

  Rather than go to any of the clinics, she went to a large shop and perused their shelves. Being in a wealthier suburb, the store carried fresh fruit and vegetables, proper meat supplies, and even fresh-baked bread. Bit bypassed all the sweet smelling food and went straight to the medical supplies. Alone in the seldom-used aisle, Bit dug through her bag and examined the few bills she had left. It wouldn’t buy much.

  She picked out a small tube of burn cream, a roll of tape, and a large roll of all-purpose bandaging. She took the supplies to the checkout counter, grabbing another expired and discounted protein gel pack on her way. The cashier eyed her dirty, ragged clothing and mussed hair for a second before beginning to scan her purchases. She announced the price and Bit pulled out the last of her bills.

  “Umm… let’s take the protein pack off,” she said when she realized she didn’t have enough.

  The cashier rolled her eyes, and with as much exaggeration as possible and a hefty sigh, worked the buttons on her screen before scanning the item again. Just when Bit thought the woman’s demeanor couldn’t get any worse, Bit grabbed her little bag and left.

  She hobbled back toward the unfinished building, weaving through the crowd at her slow, limping pace. Suddenly, Bit heard a voice she recognized. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Blaine between the heads of two women, their freshly coifed hair wrapped up in scarves. Bit ducked into the first shop she spotted, hovering near the window display and the open door.

  Blaine walked by slowly, clearly annoyed with the two women in front of him. He didn’t appear to have any baggage with him. Bit tried to think back to what the cantina owner had said about Blaine. She had thought Blaine was up on the Lenore.

  He’s escaped, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered.

  Bit felt her shoulders slump. It felt impossible to take on yet another tail. She was already dodging Rudy, Wic, her own crew, the police, and now Blaine. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Blaine was no longer an ally. If anything, he was worse than the police.

  He passed the little shop and disappeared into the crowd.

  Exhausted and hurting as she was, this was her last straw. The idea of keeping ahead of one more person was more than she could handle. She left the little shop with tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the pitying women who sauntered around the suburb. She reached the unfinished building and rather than returning to her third-story closet, she slid to the floor beside the door.

  With her hands shaking, Bit tore open the hole in her trousers until she could reach the blistered flesh. She whimpered. She couldn’t help it. Slowly, she spread the burn cream across her leg. At first, the cream stung, but slowly, as she forced herself to rub it into the burn, it began to ease her pain, cooling the wound. Knowing the end result made it easier to spread the cream across the wound on her arm. Once the two new wounds were covered in cream, she wrapped the cheap bandaging around her arm and leg, using a few pieces of tape to pin it to her flesh.

  Finally, she peeled off the bandaging on her hand and wrist from when the locals had tried to turn her into Rudy. The gash was infected.

  No wonder it hasn’t hurt me, she thought as she examined the dying flesh surrounding an abscess. If she didn’t get antibiotics soon, she would lose the hand. Until then, she would quickly begin losing feeling and dexterity.

  “Okay, no more climbing up the side of buildings,” she told herself as she dug in her pack.

  She found the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured a small dribble onto her palm. Then, after dipping the tip of her knife into the alcohol, she stabbed the abscess. It burst, with hot, creamy liquid pouring out. Bit winced as she pressed into the abscess with the flat of her knife, forcing more pus out. After a few attempts, the flow of pus slowed and she flexed her fingers experimentally. She had more range of motion, but after draining the pus the wound hurt in a way it hadn’t before.

  “Great,” she muttered with a sniffle, unaware that she was crying.

  Bit poured the rest of the rubbing alcohol over her wound in a slow dribble then wrapped it in the gauze, using a generous supply of tape to keep grime out. With her ministrations completed, she packed up her sagging bag and flung it over her shoulder. She left the unfinished building for the last time and began her journey to the frequency location, all the while scanning the crowd for signs of her crew.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack watched the group divide into pairs to search the suburb. He and Wic planned to visit Wic’s contacts. Jack would not let his crew take the risk of going off alone with the large gang leader. If Wic intended to turn on them, Jack intended to be the one in harm’s way.

  Still, he had hoped that Wic was on the level. “Why are you helping us out? My understanding was you wanted to turn Bit into Rudy.”

  Wic chuckled. “It’s true. I had originally intended to capture her for Rudy to earn myself a favor, but then I met her.”

  “You’ve had contact?”

  “Yes, I captured her once, but she escaped… not until she had given me a taste of her tongue… uh… metaphorically speaking,” he added as he blundered over his own words.

  Jack laughed, too. “Yeah, Bit can give you a piece of her mind.”

  They made it down the street, near the edge of the suburb. The buildings grew taller and taller, and more rundown as they neared the edge.

  “Where are we going?” asked Jack.

  “That building there,” Wic said, pointing to a row of shops on the first floor, topped with what looked like yet more apartments.

  “Are there any buildings something other than apartments?”

  Wic gave a loud guffaw. “Where would all these people live if every building didn’t have apartments in them? The city has to put them somewhere.”

  Wic led him to a door wedged between two shops.

  “Wic, is that you?” a voice called from behind them.

  They both turned to see two police officers grinning at Wic. The gang leader let out a tired sigh.

  “I thought that was you. What are you doing on our street?”

  Wic raised his hands in a sign of surrender, giving Jack a clue as to their past relationship.

  “I’m just here to see a friend.”

  The officer gently tapped his fingers against the reinforced baton hanging from his belt. “A friend?”

  “Yes, sir. No trouble.”

  “Oh, Wic. The thing is, your very face is trouble in my book. Who’s this guy?” the officer asked, nodding toward Jack.

  “Nobody. An off-worlder.”

  “Offworlders, eh? Piss off.”

  “I need Wic. He’s working for me,” Jack said.

  “Wic doesn’t do nothing without making a mess,” snapped the other officer, drawing his baton.

  “Look, guys,” began Wic before springing into action.

  Before Jack could stop him, Wic had shoved his palm up into the first officer’s face, giving the other officer time to drive his baton down on Wic’s shoulder. Jack jumped forward, dodging another blow from the baton. He plowed his fist into the man’s stomach, immediately regretting it as his knuckles made contact with the officer’s armor. Pain erupted in his hand, and to his shame he cried out.

  Blood poured from the first police’s nose, running down onto his navy blue uniform. The second officer swung his baton, striking Wic and giving his partner time to pull his own weapon out. Jack stepped forward, placing a foot behind the officer’s leg and driving into him. The officer went down and Wic kicked him in the face. At the same moment, Jack felt a blow to the back and dropped to his knees. Wic jabbed a fist out, striking the bleeding police officer in the face a second time and dropping him to the ground.

&nb
sp; Wic reached out for Jack and pulled him to his feet, grasping Jack’s good hand.

  “This way,” ordered Wic as he dragged Jack away from the crumpled officers.

  They ran around the building to a rusted fire escape. At the first landing, they jimmied a window open and climbed inside. The woman of the home screamed, dropping the shirt she had been folding. Wic waved to her and ran to the front door, followed by a blushing Jack.

  In the hallway, Jack called for Wic to stop.

  “Wic, where are we going?”

  “To see my contact. Just like before.”

  “But the police are after us now.”

  “They were after us the minute I left my neighborhood. Don’t worry about it.”

  Jack shook his head, questioning his new alliance as he raced after the faster, younger man. They ran down the hall to a fork, where Wic turned, seemingly knowing where he was going. On the fourth floor, they stopped outside a plain door that still looked lightyears better than the apartment doors in Soweto.

  The door swung upon, and Jack struggled to keep his features neutral. A little old lady stood before them stooped over a cane, a knitted shawl draped over her curved back. She looked up at them, tilting her face to the side and peering through thick, outdated glasses. Her white hair curled in thin whips across her head and a toothless smile spread across her wrinkled features.

  “Wic? Is that you?”

  “Hey, grandma.” Wic bent and gave the old woman a kiss on the cheek.

  Jack felt his jaw drop and quickly snapped it shut, though he thought he saw a twinkle in Wic’s eye.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Jack. He’s a space captain.”

  “A space captain? You mean you fly around in one of those metal boxes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oooo a gentleman. Wic, you need to bring more gentlemen around. The boys you hang out with are too modern if you ask me.”