by Mark Lingane
“I ain’t waiting.”
“Be our guest.” The sheriff waved his hand toward the door. “Go, leave the bounty for us.”
The man snarled. “You don’t know what we’ve had to survive, tracking and organizing those outlaw reprobates. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“Should I care? And that’s another thing, I’m not singing your praises after you’ve brought them into my town.” He hitched his thumb toward the racket outside.
“It could’ve been worse, there were more.” The man dusted off his hands in front of the sheriff’s face. “Me and the boy will be at the Guns and Roses, and you’ll be paying for our drinks.” The bald man pushed through the double doors, strode down the corridor, and into the sheriff’s anteroom.
His assistant, a younger, thickset man with a bloated body, watched the telescreen as it displayed the news updates, and failed to notice the pacing to and fro of his senior. Words were spoken, but the young man wasn’t listening. The elder man fumed. He’d seen the outlaws attack his bounty and rough up the prized booty. The two of them would be his retirement. Pity they seemed to have lost the girl. Or at least that’s what the outlaws had told him. They’d probably killed her on the way. Or she’d ditched them at the first chance.
Fury and impatience overcame him. He stormed back down the corridor and pushed through the brown door. “That’s an inviting present for a war dog,” he boomed.
Memphis rolled her eyes and paused momentarily in her furious manipulation of the lock. That voice, again. She clicked the clip up and the cuffs sprang open. She wheeled stood up to face the man with the familiar voice.
“Rex,” she said calmly, although alarm bells were ringing in her head. “What are you doing here?”
“Just some trading. Remember, I told you about those high-paying jobs. They couldn’t wait any longer. So, here I am. And you? You’re looking a little worse for wear.”
“It’s been a tough day.”
“Really? You should ask me about my last month.”
“I’d really like to hear all about it. Was that you speaking with the sheriff?” She glanced back over his shoulder toward the door.
He followed her gaze. “Oh, no, not me, definitely not me. You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“Haven’t I always been?”
He laughed and shook his head.
She looked around, then leaned in close and whispered in his ear. She placed her hand on his back. “I just need to get out, Rex,” she said. “There seems to be some misunderstanding. Can you help me?”
“I can’t help you. This is a problem you’ve dropped yourself into.”
“What if I make it worth your while? You and me.”
He paused and looked around. “What, here?”
“Doesn’t that make it more exciting?”
He smiled and hitched up his stained and baggy pants. “I remember you always liking a bit of excitement.”
“Some things don’t change.”
“You ain’t with some other people here?”
“Nah. It’ll be just you and me,” she purred.
“I don’t know,” he said. But she could see the hesitation in his eyes. “I’m expecting some serious money soon.”
“But I can give you something more valuable. Something you really, really want,” she drawled. “I can give it to you now.”
She looked around and spotted one of the small interview rooms. She grabbed his hand and led him across. The walls of the room were thick, probably soundproof to conceal the more robust interrogations. The room contained a metal table and two utilitarian chairs. It was perfect.
66
SEBASTIAN DUCKED IN under the low doorway into the cells. Niels followed, assisted by the guard who slammed the cell door shut. He stared at them through the thick steel bars.
“You don’t look like too much trouble.”
“You’ve caught us on a good day,” Sebastian said.
The guard came up to the bars and stood inches from them. Sebastian snatched out through the bars at him, but the guard quickly jumped away, shaking his finger. “You think this is my first day as a guard.”
He moved across the small area in front of the cells to a desk, and threw down a thick collection of paper. “You’ve come with enough paperwork.”
Sebastian looked around the cell. Nothing but stone walls and a metal bench, barely big enough for both of them to sit on at the same time. They sat down. It was suspended from the ceiling by four chains. Sebastian rocked the bench. The chains squeaked as the two lots of metal rubbed together.
“Stop that,” said the guard, as he opened the first page. He turned on the telescreen.
“It is annoying,” Niels added.
Sebastian stopped and thought for a moment. The guard was reading the paperwork, and appeared to be crosschecking it against data on the telescreen.
“Have you got any of that sleeping powder left?” Sebastian whispered.
Niels rummaged through his numerous pockets. He pulled out a tiny blue cloth sack, tied with a thick string. “It’s not much,” he said.
“Will it knock him out?”
“Perhaps.”
“Pretend to choke so I can lure him over.”
Niels started to cough. “Ahem. Ahem.”
“Could you make it a bit more realistic?”
Niels coughed louder. The guard glanced up before continuing with his work.
Sebastian jumped up and grabbed the bars. “Quick,” he shouted, “he’s choking on something. He could die.” Niels swooned and crashed to the ground. “We need your help, quick.”
The guard shook his head at the terrible performance. Niels moaned, took in a couple of deep breaths, then lay still. The guard ignored them. Sebastian shrugged. Niels stood up and dusted himself off. They sat back down on the bench and Sebastian started to rock it again.
After thirty seconds, the guard shouted at him. Another minute later he added, “Don’t make me come over there.”
Three minutes later, he slammed his pen on the table and stood up. “Shut up!” He stormed over to the cell.
Sebastian leaped up and threw the dust in his face. The guard staggered back, brushing the dust out of his eyes. “What was that?”
“Dust. I didn’t have a shoe I wanted to throw.”
“You’re an idiot.” The guard went back to his desk, dipped his fingers in a glass of water and wiped them over his eyes.
“Looks like it didn’t work,” Sebastian whispered to Niels.
The guard went back to his paperwork, occasionally wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He turned another page and yawned.
“It might’ve worked,” said Niels.
“Or the stuff he’s reading is really dull. Like homework.”
The guard’s head lolled to one side, and he caught himself. He stretched, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Within moments he was snoring lightly.
Sebastian looked at him from behind the cell bars. “Great, what do we do now?”
The skirmish with the outlaws outside intensified, heightening the tension in the room. Memphis sat back against the desk. The rounds momentarily distracted Rex, but his eyes remained focused and burning with desire.
“Where do you want to go first once we’re out of here?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah, wherever.” He licked his lips.
“We could head down to Phoenix, once I’ve taken you to …” She brought her fist around as hard as she could and smashed it into his chin. “… heaven. Sorry, Rex. You always had a glass jaw.”
His eyes crossed and he fell to the ground.
She shook the pain from her hand, glancing back at the doorway. She quickly frisked him, found the keys to the truck, and pocketed them. She made her way out of the room. The thick door clicked shut silently behind her, and she flicked the lock.
The sheriff’s room was still empty. She slipped behind his desk, switching on the telescreen. She flicked through the bounty selecti
ons until she found two listings, one for her and one for Sebastian. One comms number she recognized. The other, well, she could make a pretty good guess at who was behind it. She hit the dial button.
The screen flickered and a familiar face turned to face the camera. “I hope this is good news, bounty hunt—”
“Peacemaker,” Memphis snapped.
“You! How dare you call after—”
“I’m here, with the boy and Niels, and the Master’s coming for us. You want us you come and get us. Now!” She disconnected.
All she had to do now was free the others, get the vehicles, and escape before everyone turned up and all hell broke loose.
She made her way down the corridor, walking quietly and keeping close to the wall. She could hear heavy breathing increasing in volume.
Sebastian waved at her and pointed to the guard sleeping at the desk. “He’s got the keys on his belt,” he whispered.
She nodded and crept toward the desk. The guard’s breathing was heavy and steady. She slowly reached forward, timing her movements with the gentle rise and fall of his body with each breath. She watched, counted and waited, then slipped the key ring free. As she turned, a large hand clamped down on her wrist. She turned to see the guard grinning at her.
“Let go of me,” she shouted.
He grabbed her arm, shoved her across the room, and threw her into the cell with the other two.
He looked at Sebastian and Niels. “Not my first day as a guard,” he repeated. He rubbed his eyes and went back to the desk.
Memphis sat down on the bench. It rocked and squeaked. “That’s really annoying.”
Niels glanced at Sebastian. “Do you hear gunfire?”
“I hope it’s the Jazz,” Memphis said.
“The what?” Sebastian said.
“Salt Lake’s commando unit.”
“Would that be good or bad?”
67
THE REPETITIVE THUMPING of the helicopter blades was a counterpoint to the intermittent staccato of the machine-gun fire that had pinned down the small garrison. Two choppers landed in the field next to the jail block, with a third circling in the air above.
The Jazz commando leader hit the comms button on his helmet. “Command says the garrison’s thin. Three receivers in to collect the package, the rest on defense detail. Five minutes, team. You there, Crow?”
The pilot of the circling chopper said, “Yes, Commander.”
“Keep in the air. Watch out for incoming from the east. I’m not sure what’s going on there.”
Several men moved in around the helicopters cautiously, rifles targeted at the invaders. The Jazz leader stepped out and fired several rounds into the air. The sheriff came running out, and his men fell back behind cover. A dozen Jazz soldiers spilled out of the helicopters and took up position.
“What the hell you doing in my town?” the sheriff shouted.
“We’re here to collect your three prisoners. They’re now the property of the Peacemaker.”
“You paying with cash?”
“You don’t have the authority to negotiate, Sheriff. Stand down, and don’t interfere with this operation.”
“They’re in my cells, in my town, so they’re my prisoners. I repeat, you paying with cash?”
“Stand down, Sheriff.” Movement caught the commander’s eye and he glanced over. “You have outlaws here. That’s in direct contravention of Decree 351. Men, forward.”
The perimeter Jazz soldiers took up position. Three heavily armored receivers ran toward the jail block. Several men from the garrison tried to stop them, but were deflected by the heft of the charging soldiers. The receivers burst through the doors. The one in front pivoted and fired back into the field at the garrison soldiers; the soldiers fell back.
The two receivers ran through another set of doors. A small alcove was on one side. A young man sat in front of a telescreen. He looked up as the men burst in. The second receiver swung his rifle butt into the youth’s face, and he collapsed to the floor. They pushed through the brown door. Beyond was the sheriff’s desk.
The receivers swept their sights into the corners of the room, but detected no movement. They ran past the interrogation rooms and down the long corridor toward the cells at the back. The first receiver threw down a small canister, which bounced to the end of the corridor and erupted, frothing thick gas into the air. The three men lowered their goggles over their eyes and ran into the spreading fog.
There was movement in front of them. Random shots ricocheted around the small area as the guard stood up and fired, coughing violently. The first receiver ran to him, smashed him against the wall and swung his rifle around, cracking it into his head. He picked up the keys from the unconscious body and threw them to the second receiver, who slammed them into the lock and rushed into the cell.
The receiver grabbed the first person, a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair. He raised a small hand-held telescreen, which displayed a picture of a young man. He swiped the picture and the face of the middle-aged man appeared. He pushed him out the door into the sights of the first receiver. The Jazz solider repeated the process for the young man, and then a young woman. He pushed the young man out, and put the young lady into an armlock with one hand.
The receivers ran back up the corridor, supporting the three people from the cells. Coughing and spluttering, they ran into the sheriff’s empty office. Memphis struggled against the Jazz soldier who had her in an armlock, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
Outside, the Jazz commandos had set up a perimeter defense around the building, forming a direct path from the door to the waiting helicopters. The doors to the cellblock flew open. Gunfire erupted as the prisoners appeared, and the garrison soldiers opened fire.
To the Jazz commander, the three people didn’t look as dangerous as the Peacemaker had made them sound. They sure didn’t look like they warranted the immediate abandonment of all other operations and their urgent acquisition. The first receiver gave a thumbs-up to the commander, who signaled for them all to board.
The door was smashed open, and Jade, the man who had followed Memphis through the streets of Carson City, came charging out. “Where is he?” he shouted as he grabbed Memphis.
A Jazz soldier brought his rifle butt down onto Jade’s shoulder. The massive thug barely flinched. He kicked out at the soldier, spinning him away with the force.
“Where is he?” he repeated.
“Who?”
Two Jazz commandos wrestled Jade away. He kicked and struggled, trying to twist out of their grip.
Another commando grabbed Memphis and dragged her to the closest helicopter, pulling her into the containment fuselage.
The circling, heavier helicopter flew in low. It spun, revealing a large mounted machine gun. It fired. Whump-whump-whump. The massive shells thudded into the ground, and everyone ran for cover. The helicopter with Memphis inside took off. Sebastian charged after it, leaping up and grabbing onto the rising skids. He hung on with both hands. The chopper rocked as the pilot made adjustments for the unbalanced weight. Memphis tumbled toward the open side, where a commando caught her just before she slipped out.
“What the hell was that?” shouted the pilot.
Sebastian grabbed Memphis’s legs, and pulled. The chopper swung in low to the ground. Memphis screamed as she was stretched between Sebastian and the commando. Everyone below charged away as the chopper bounced across the ground toward them.
Jade dashed forward and slammed into Sebastian, knocking him and Memphis free from the commando’s grip. They tumbled to the ground and rolled to a halt. The helicopter rose as the pilot gained altitude in an effort to settle the craft.
“You stop him,” Memphis shouted to Sebastian as she struggled to her feet. “I’m getting the truck.”
“Which truck?” was all Sebastian could manage.
Jade took after her, and within several strides had his arm around her waist and was lifting her off the ground. There was a tap on his
shoulder. Jade turned around and faced an incoming swing from Sebastian. The punch landed on Jade’s chin and he fell back, rolling under the force of the blow.
Memphis leaped to her feet and kept running toward the storage compound.
Jade kicked into Sebastian’s ribs and lifted him off the ground. He turned and ran after Memphis, only to be brought down by Sebastian tackling him around the waist. The two grappled in the dirt, both landing heavy blows on each other. Jade brought in a wide kick, landing it directly on the side of Sebastian’s head and knocking him to the ground. Jade picked him up and pulled back his fist.
Sebastian laughed.
Jade gave him a puzzled look. “You’re a terrible fighter,” he said.
“I’m not a fighter, I’m a decoy.” Sebastian pushed back against Jade, who staggered into the oncoming path of the truck. His body was flung across the open ground and into some bushes.
The truck door opened. “Come with me if you want to live,” she shouted at Sebastian.
He jumped up and clambered up into the cab. “That was some precision driving,” he said.
Memphis smiled. “I had something worth saving.” She jammed the gears into first and floored the accelerator.
“Who was that guy? He sure was keen on getting you.”
“I don’t know. I saw him following me in Carson. I’ve got no idea what he’s doing out here, or who he’s working for.”
Sebastian swung around. “Where’s Niels?”
Memphis nodded ahead at the chopper that was in the air above them and turning to leave.
Sebastian opened the door of the cab and clambered onto the roof, then jumped up, grabbing hold of the side of the open chopper. The roof of the truck clipped the tail. Sebastian pulled himself inside the chopper and rolled, crashing into everyone as the helicopter violently spun around. He pulled out his knife, kicked a commando away, and slashed through the seatbelt holding Niels. He pulled him up and jumped out. They fell ten feet to the ground and landed heavily.
