Jack grumbled at the news of Blaine’s nearness but seemed to relax when Reese told him of Blaine’s voluntary tumble off the train.
Now, they huddled in a narrow alley, discussing their next plans.
“Look, if Bit only has a couple options then why don’t we split up?” asked Reese.
“And if we run into trouble? If we run into Rudy’s men?” countered Jack. “What do we do then in just groups of two or three? Not the mention the police that are after both Wic and Bit.”
Reese nodded, realizing the truth of his captain’s words.
“So now we have to decide which one she would have gone to,” said Wic.
“Not we. Us ” snapped Calen.
Evidently, Oden wasn’t the only one who mistrusted Wic. Wic nodded politely, ignoring Calen’s insult.
“I think it might be more accurate to say we need to figure out where Zandri would have gone,” suggested Oden, trying to smooth things over.
“And none of us have a clue where Zandri would have gone,” sighed Jack.
“Let’s think about this logically,” said Randal. “There are only three or four truly nice suburbs in this city. Let’s talk through them. Maybe Wic could tell us about them.”
Jack opened the paper map again. “Well, there’s Hartbeespoort.”
“Lake country. Very nice. Mostly retired people.”
“And Rietvlei.”
“That’s on the edge of a fancy forest preserve,” explained Wic. “Nature, animals, etc.”
“And Vanderbijlpark?”
“It’s on a river. Probably the lowest rent of the swanky places. It used to be an industrial city, but they started turning the huge plants into ‘swank’ apartments. I don’t get it myself, but…” Wic shrugged.
“And lastly, Bela-Bela,” offered Jack.
“Barely counts as being ‘in the city.’ It’s wealthy, but it’s for the insanely wealthy. We’re talking private launch pads and their own farms to supply them with fresh, organic food. I doubt even Zandri could afford there.”
Jack nodded. “Okay, that limits us to two places. Hartbeespoort and Rietvlei.”
Before Jack could say anything else, a man dropped down to the ground from an upper window. The group went into high alert, Randal even drawing his gun as he spun around to find their exit blocked. Oden eyed the men on the fire escapes, their guns pointed at the crew. Slowly, an older man slipped out of a window and came to the railing.
“So, I see you’ve reneged on our deal, Wic,” Rudy said from above their heads.
“What can I say,” called Wic, “I like the little wench.”
“Ah. So you’ve met her?”
“The little sprite who nearly knocked your eye out of its socket? Yeah, I met her. She’s cute.”
Rudy glared down at Wic.
“So you finally decided to get off your ass and do the job yourself?” continued Wic.
“Well… you know what they say…” growled Rudy. “All right men, move them into the streets. You fight my men, they have orders to kill.”
Wic nodded and motioned for the crew to follow their new escort.
“Hartsbeesport?” Jack said, just above a whisper.
Wic nodded and Jack glanced around at the crew. Oden, like everyone else, nodded too. They knew what the one word meant—Jack had announced a rallying point in case they became separated.
The armed men jabbed at their backs, pressing them out of the alley. Out of the corner of his eye, Oden spotted Rudy carefully slipping back into the building, no doubt to emerge from the main entrance out on the street. The other elevated gunmen were doing the same. Soon, only those on the ground would be guarding them. It was there best shot. Oden suspected Jack and Randal had already put two and two together but had the others?
Oden glanced at Randal. The security guard gave a slight nod. They reached the end of the alley and Oden took his chance. He slammed his foot into the back of the gunman's knee, taking him to the ground. At the same moment, as if by some verbal cue, Randal struck his elbow into the face hovering behind him. Jack took the less subtle approach and jumped on a man’s back, his arms stretched out around his head, reaching for the gun. Oden didn’t see what Calen or Reese did, too busy with his own man.
He grabbed the man’s head and jerked it to the side. Oden heard, and ignored, the tell-tail pop of the man’s neck. He turned, spotting Rudy’s other men emerging from the nearest building. Oden ran forward, a round whizzing past his shoulder and tearing into his flesh. He grunted as he ran, his uninjured arm going for the knife on his belt. As he drew his knife, he slammed the man’s arms out of the way and drove his knife forward. The man jumped to the side and Oden’s knife caught on nothing but the fabric of his shirt.
Oden tossed his knife from his left hand to his right. Though it was injured—and therefore had a smaller range—he was better with his right. The gunman tried to train his weapon at his chest, but Oden kicked out, his sole meeting the man’s chest and ratcheting him back a few steps. As the man stumbled, his gun slipped from his hands. He scrambled for it, giving Oden a chance to slam his foot into the man’s ribs again. The man rolled with the impact, putting distance between him and Oden.
His knife in hand, Oden jumped forward and slammed his knife down, the blade narrowly grazing his enemy’s side. The other man rolled over onto his back, using his forearms to block another blow. Though his enemy had a gun, Oden was too close for him to aim at him. The man tried to point it at Oden’s head but using his injured arm, Oden brushed it aside.
With his other hand, Oden drove his knife down. His opponents hand grabbed his wrist just in time to stop the blow. Oden put his weight into it, and slowly lowered his blade. It sunk into the man’s chest, sliding between the ribs, and puncturing his lung.
The man grunted with the pain before gasping, trying to catch breath he never could with only one working lung. Oden reached up, grabbed the man’s chin and the back of his head, and snapped his neck. He refused to leave the man to suffocate to death.
Oden looked up, eyeing the street and the entrance to the alleyway. Randal was still in the entrance. Somehow, Jack had made it across the street and down half a block, still grappling with one of Rudy’s men. Rudy himself stood in the doorway of the building across the alleyway. Oden spotted Calen being dragged away by two of Rudy’s men.
Looking around his immediate area, he grabbed up his enemy’s gun and fired at one of Calen’s captors, praying no one ran in front of him at the last second. The streets were full of screaming women and brave but stupid men trying to stop the fighting. Oden’s shot rang true, and the man on Calen’s left dropped to the ground. Calen wrenched his arm free of the other man’s grasp. Oden fired at the second man but missed. Calen jumped into the fight, not giving Oden a second chance.
Like Calen, Reese was battling a man a block in the other direction. As far as Oden could tell, Reese was uninjured. Wic had two men on the ropes, each backing up and tripping over their own feet as they tried to tag team him. Oden had no intention of helping the man who had drawn Rudy to them in the first place.
Instead of assisting one of his crewmates—as he probably should have done—he took aim at Rudy. He missed again, the shot disappearing into the doorframe an inch from Rudy’s head. On instinct, Rudy disappeared into the opening, his arm coming up at the same moment. Oden ducked to the side and crawled into the nearest doorway, shots raining down over his head. He reached the door and ducked out just enough to see Rudy. The older man was safely ensconced behind his own doorway, just his arm protruding from safety.
Oden knew he wasn’t a match for the older man in a gun fight. He could shoot straight, but he wasn’t a marksman. He was better at fighting dirty than anything else. He spotted Calen, just free of his last captor. Calen jumped behind a barrel and began firing at Rudy’s doorway.
This was his opportunity to end it.
Oden turned into his building, ran down the hallway until he found a staircase, and took i
t up to the second floor. It took him a few minutes to find access to the fire escape in the alleyway. When he did, he slipped out and eyed the gap.
“This is nuts,” he mumbled to himself as he tucked the stolen gun into the back of his cargo pants.
He climbed onto the railing and launched himself across the gap, catching the far fire escape by the railing. Oden grunted as a sharp pain cut into his chest. He suspected he had fractured a rib. Oden dragged himself up and over the railing, and collapsed onto the new fire escape. Despite the pain, he forced himself up and climbed into Rudy’s building.
Like the other building, it took him a few minutes to find his way to a staircase. As he rounded the corner, he came to a halt. A man stood just above the stairs, eyeing the three different hallways branching off from the landing. Oden lunged forward, ramming his body into his enemy’s chest and driving him back into a hallway. The man—who clearly worked for Rudy and was tasked to watch his back—slammed his fists down on Oden’s back. Oden grunted with the pain and fell to his knees, dragging the other man with him.
They rolled on the ground, jabbing elbows and fists at each other whenever they could. Oden took an elbow to the cheek and managed to ram his own fist into the guy’s crotch. His enemy rolled over, clutching is privates for dear life, giving Oden a chance to draw his knife and drive it into the man’s leg. The man screamed, drawing attention to their fight.
Oden left him on the ground, certain he would be too busy stopping the bleeding to cause him any more trouble. He took the man’s gun and pressed himself against the wall at the corner. Boots pounding up the stairs and, just as he had expected, a pair of hands grasping a handgun rounded the corner, followed by two strong arms. Oden grabbed the first wrist and dragged the man forward, firing where he expected the gunman’s head to be. He missed.
Again? he thought as Rudy rounded the corner, revealing his head.
Oden didn’t give him time to adjust. He pushed the man’s arms up, fighting against Rudy’s strength, and tried to get his gun in line to fire again, but in their close quarters, Oden couldn’t get a clear shot.
Rudy twisted his wrist, freeing it from Oden’s grasp. At the same time, he drove the butt of his gun down against Oden’s head. Hot liquid poured from Oden’s head, blinding one eye. Without thinking, Oden drove his knee up, hitting Rudy’s thigh instead of anything damageable. It still made the older man jump to the other foot, giving Oden a chance to shove Rudy. As Rudy was on one foot and off balance, he stumbled back, dropping his gun. Oden aimed and fired blindly.
The round sunk into Rudy’s armor, knocking him off his feet. Oden quickly wiped the blood from his eye and aimed again, just as Rudy began to fight his way back to his feet. Oden fired, hitting him in the head.
Suddenly, it was all over. The hallway was eerily quiet, as residents wisely remained in their homes. Slowly, as the ringing in Oden’s ears died away, he heard the soft groaning on the man on the floor—his knife still embedded in his thigh.
Oden bent down, yanking the knife out of the man’s flesh. He screamed, grabbing at the flowing wound. Oden stepped over to Rudy’s body and cut a swath off his shirt. He took the fabric and wrapped it around the man’s wound, tying it tightly.
“You listen here,” Oden said, threatening the man with his gun. “You work for Wic now. You got that?”
The man nodded frantically.
“Tell the others.”
With that, Oden turned and headed down the stairs, his hand rising to wipe the blood from his eyes of its own accord. He didn’t like Wic. And he didn’t trust him, but he knew Wic would be more useful with a stronger footing in the city. Oden just hoped he’d made the gangster’s footing stronger, and not weaker. He didn’t know how the city functioned.
Oden emerged onto the street to find it in the throes of triage. People ran about with blood on their hands. Some carried bodies while other talked to police officers. With blood running down the side of his head, he blended in perfectly, but Oden feared one of the well-meaning women would stop him. From where he stood, he couldn’t see anyone else from his crew, but that didn’t bother him. They had a meeting point, and the leader of their enemies was dead.
“You!” cried a woman, pointing at him. She brandied a basket full of cloth bandages.
As she reached his side, he grabbed a cloth and pressed it to his head. “There’s someone hurt worse upstairs. Help him. I’m fine.”
She nodded, handing him another strip of cloth before hurrying upstairs. Oden began to walk as he used the second strip to tie the first to his forehead. He kept his head turned down, trying his best to hide his wound. There were other splatters of blood on his clothing, but he didn’t worry about them.
Everyone on the street was covered in red to varying degrees.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bit stepped off the train, the ride bringing forth emotions she didn’t want to confess to anyone, especially herself. It reminded her of riding with Jack all over Tifton, Mars’ capital. She missed Jack. Strangely, she suspected she missed the captain more than anyone. He had been acting so oddly during the end of their mission on the Widdly Space station and he avoided her during their journey back to Mars. During the mission, she had been too busy to do more than give his oddity a passing noticed, and during their journey, she had been avoiding him as much as he her.
Now, though, she longed for his strong embrace and the safety that came with it. Though his brother Calen had technically been the one to win her from her last owner, Asselstine, it had been Jack who gave her the strength to stand on her own and the knowledge that she would always be welcome in his crew.
What about now? she wondered as she glanced around the fancy neighborhood. Will he still accept me after running away?
Bit couldn’t imagine the captain taking her back now, especially after seeing him with Wic. He clearly just wanted to be rid of her. Would he sell her debt to Wic? The large man had expressed interest in her, flirting with her after taking her captive. Did he want her enough to buy her? Bit shuddered at the thought of another owner who would force himself on her.
Jack never would.
But then again, Jack had no interest in her like that. Bit felt her shoulders drop a little before giving herself a mental shake. She didn’t care if Jack liked her in that manner. She just wanted to know if he wanted to be rid of her.
Bit sighed, focusing on her surroundings. Jack and his feelings weren’t her main issue. Finding her last family member was.
From the elevated train station, she spotted a glistening lake spreading across the horizon. Below her, ground and hover cars passed on a neatly paved street. Wide sidewalks lined the street dotted with fully grown date-palm trees shooting up above the roofs of the shops. The shop fronts were all glass, showing off their various wares.
The scene before her was as different from the rest of Johannesburg as a kitten from a pitbull. Bit couldn’t fathom the wealth spreading out before her when so many people went hungry.
A short distance from the steps, Bit spotted a café where a few people sat outside under pretty umbrellas, eating fresh fruit, drinking pungent coffee, and chatting. Unlike the rest of the town, the sidewalks were sparsely populated and no one walked in the streets.
Bit descended the steps, eyeing the shops and the fancy displays showing off everything from organic fruit to gold watches. Whatever Zandri had done for Morgan Reactors, they had paid him a king’s ransom to afford the Hartbeespoort neighborhood.
Bit walked for a while, just watching her surroundings. To no surprise, someone finally stopped her.
“Are you lost, girl?” demanded a shop owner as he stood outside his delicatessen.
Bit suddenly realized what she must look like within the environs of the elegant main street. She was bloody, bruised, and torn to shreds. She knew her skin showed through numerous rips and her ratted dreadlocks were decades out of style. Compared to the pristine women sauntering around the manicured shops, she must have looked l
ike a vagabond, or worse. No doubt the shop owner feared she might try to steal from him.
“Sir, do you know a Douglas Zandri?” she asked, hoping her deferential treatment might ease his worries.
“Course I know him. Why?”
“I’m his indentured servant and I’ve lost my way. I’m trying to get back to him,” she said, going with the first lie that crossed her mind; it was a risk and a small grimace crossed her features as she kept her eyes lowered.
“Ha! Nice try, kid. Zandri doesn’t have an I.S. Now you stay right there. I’ll get the police and we’ll sort this all out,” said the man, wiping his hands on his long, white apron before turning into his shop.
Bit bolted. If he called the police, she would be taken into Department of Logistical Labor, and her fleeing would become official. She would own more debt and be sent back to Jack—all without reuniting with her family.
“Hey! You!” called the man.
Bit ignored him, turning down the first street she saw. It led into a housing development, if she could call it that. Each house was at least half a mile away from the next, gated in by tall fences or walls. At the first gate, she sucked in her gut and squeezed through the wrought iron vertical beams. She barely fit. Once through, she ducked to the side, already hearing the sirens of the fancy police cars approaching.
Running along the solid wall, Bit ducked into the manicured foliage of the property, finding a hiding place between a Molala bush and the stone wall. She hunkered down onto her rump, stretching out her aching knee.
“Why did I say that?” she whispered to herself, thumping her head against the wall in frustration.
She stopped quickly, a headache forming from her self-punishment. She sat in her hiding place, wishing she had more to eat. It had taken her hours to get east to the lake suburb, during which time the bread gifted to her had been digested. Now, thanks to her own stupidity, she would have to wait the police out until they lost interest in the little runaway.
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