Blood Runners: Box Set

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  He was making sure to avoid the wires that jutted out of the pack, the telltale sign of an IED, an improvised explosive, as he hopped onto a sidewalk of segmented concrete when — CRACK-BOOM! — the building next to him vanished in a titanic grenade blast. Elias covered his head and clawed his way through the dust kicked up by the explosion, using it as cover, listening to the invectives and war cries of the Apes grow louder behind him.

  Marisol broke from the Apes and loosed a fusillade in Elias’s direction, shell casings pinging the cement beneath her. She’d never seen a Runner move with such dexterity, and was shocked at how the young man seemed to be able to run between her rounds.

  Her peripheral vision fixed upon a pair of Apes that were bounding out and away from Farrow and the others. They moved in patterns, checking lines of sight, clearing them. Scan. Sweep. Repeat. Moving heel-to-toe, knees bent, bodies angled forward, searching for targets. Typical Ape movements that were preached back in the barracks and written down in forgotten training books.

  Marisol saw the hidden IED before they did, raised a hand to signal for them to stop when — BOOM! — one of them triggered the hidden bomb, which turned both men into bone-confetti.

  Farrow and the others instantly dropped to the ground as the blast echoed off the storefronts and buildings. It was in that instant that Marisol and the other Apes knew for certain that this Runner was different. Elias had taken down more of them in one session than had fallen in the prior three years. Infuriated, Sikes, Harrigan, and the other Apes wove forward, bloodlust in their eyes. Farrow was supremely on edge and swapped glances with Marisol, who headed in another direction.

  Elias nodded with grim satisfaction as the IED blast echoed and then faded into nothingness. He checked his watch — 34:45 left to go. He scooted across a dusty verge, spotting the Apes dashing to cut him off.

  Doubling back, Elias rattlesnaked through the broken front window of a garage and headed toward the back when he noticed the ground giving way underfoot. He looked down and saw that the floor was one sheet of metal, rigged to drop: a clear booby-trap!

  Spinning like a dervish, he pushed forward as the floor dropped away as he’d expected.

  Elias vaulted forward through the air, landing hard against the rim on the other side, grasping for purchase, finding a handhold.

  He looked back and down to see that the metal floor had fallen away to one side of a pit awash in sharpened pieces of rebar. With great effort, Elias utilized his chinning abilities and pulled himself up. As he flopped on the other side, he heard the sickening sound of a depression plate lowering.

  His eyes skipped left and right, and he watched hidden weights fall down metal shelving. As he bopped to his feet, the weights fell, triggering guns lodged in the recessed walls.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The guns fired in what seemed like slow-motion to Elias, who ducked and covered and managed to avoid the slugs as he rolled out a rear door that nearly came closing down on top of him before he squirted out, leapt to his feet, and took off into a stand of shrubbery.

  Marisol was gliding down over bricked walls and past the ruined façades of corporate eyesores, reloading her rifle on the run. Time was running out. She bulled through an alley as a tree-trunk arm snagged her midsection and she brought her rifle up into the face of Farrow.

  “Stand down, girl,” he said. “Stand down.”

  She did for the moment. He half-smiled and said, “You only know how to play the game at one speed, huh?”

  She nodded and looked for the other Apes, who were nowhere to be seen.

  “How long?”

  He checked his watch. “Less than thirty ticks.”

  “He’s headed for the maze,” she said with certainty.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because that’s where I’d go.”

  “This grunt ain’t like you, Marisol.”

  “I know,” she responded. “He might be better.”

  “Charlie Mike,” was all Farrow said. Marisol nodded, repeating, “Charlie Mike.” Continue mission.

  21

  Moses O’Shea could barely contain his glee as he watched his boy Elias make fools of the mighty Apes. He’d already vanquished two of the galoots and was certain to take down a few more. At this rate, Moses would have more money than he could spend. His elation was muted only when Longman’s shadow fell over him and he heard the words, “Are the tales true, O’Shea? Is that Runner of yours really green?”

  Moses looked up and took in Longman’s grave and decorous demeanor and nodded. “S’all true, Mister Heller. The kid’s first run.”

  “Lovingly, I would say his abilities are hardly… suboptimal.”

  “He’s a dandy indeed, sir,” said Moses.

  “He has instincts.”

  “Natural moves,” Moses muttered.

  Longman noted this, his eyes straying upward to heaven, then back to Moses as he replied, “Oh, I think we both know it’s a little more than that. I think he had an awfully good trainer.”

  O’Shea didn’t know whether to smile or grind his teeth. Others had gone mad trying to divine the meaning in Longman’s cryptic responses, and so he simply lowered his head and went back to watching the imagery shot by the drone, hoping like hell that the bet he’d placed on Elias’s back would pay off.

  Elias ran down a ramp that curved through a toy store and ground to a stop at a ledge that dropped away to a basement twenty feet below. Time and the elements had crushed the store like a tin can, exposing another ledge eight feet away that led to safety. Elias crabbed back, then took off in a dead run. In one fluid motion, he sprung across the chasm and grabbed the ledge and directed his momentum up and over it. He collapsed to the ground and checked his watch, which showed 4:29. A thrill passed through his frame. He was nearly home free.

  Glancing up and sensing no movement anywhere, he hurtled toward a stairwell and slid down the metal railings and caught sight of Longman’s drone prowling lazily across the sky above.

  He ran through the burned and pallid landscape, sensing victory as the seconds counted down.

  He’d done it.

  He’d bested the bastards who had the gall to send a girl after him. A girl!

  Elias smiled at the thought of her, hidden behind her guns and body armor that made her look like some kind of cocooned beetle.

  She was something to look at, though. He couldn’t deny that she was pleasing to the eyes as he checked his watch, which showed he was under one minute as he rounded a bend and stopped when he caught sight of Zone 3, the area where Longman had “relocated” the Crazies. There was a visible pall over the space, nearly 10 city blocks hidden behind a patchwork of rusted fence. Strange sounds and screams and guttural laughter filtered up from the area, which made Elias shiver as he studied his clock. Down to ten seconds.

  He jogged hard right, smile blossoming across his face, when Marisol lunged and punched him in the side of the head.

  Elias careened to his left, the shock and kinetic energy of his fall forcing him over. Marisol skidded out in front of him and assumed a shooting stance as Elias looked in every direction. There was nowhere left to run. She brought her rifle up, finger quivering around the trigger, hesitating, when a horrific sound shrieked from her HUD, causing her to tear her helmet off. It was a sound she’d never heard before. The end of the run. The end of Absolution! Elias had won!

  “End it!”

  Marisol wheeled to see Sikes appearing behind her, pistol out, racking the slide, bringing it up.

  “It’s over,” she said.

  Sikes grunted, “I don’t give a damn if it’s over or not, end it!” He moved to shove her aside when she grabbed his pistol and wrenched it free.

  “I SAID IT’S OVER!”

  He swung at her and she dropped low and knuckle-punched Sikes’s throat with such force that he passed out and hit the ground in a heap, a dark urine stain spreading down the leg of his pants.

  Elias watched this in wonder and t
hen levered himself up. The two stood and shared a look in brutal silence and Elias thought, for an instant, that his moment of release had come. No words were exchanged, however.

  Elias heard the shriek of a horn. He made for the sound and saw Max and a few of the other Trainers standing, arms raised, jubilant, cheering him on as he peered back over a shoulder to see Marisol standing, rifle slung sideways, watching him go.

  Marisol pursed her lips as images from the hunt flitted and flashed in her mind. She had him in her sights and couldn’t do it.

  Couldn’t pull the trigger.

  She seethed as she swung around and made her way back through Zone 5, hoping that no one of means had seen her fail when it mattered most.

  Marisol would remember this moment for the rest of her days. The distinct sounds and smells of her first defeat and how her world had been turned upside down. And the strangest thing was that even though she’d been sent to hunt the boy down, she couldn’t deny that she’d immediately sensed some kinship, some strange physical connection to him.

  Longman cursed the day Elias was born and rebuked everyone who’d gathered to watch the hunt with a volcanic look. He took refuge in his office, dark thoughts forming. The wheels turning, Longman recognized that he needed to address this situation post-haste. That he needed to cut his losses. Something passed over his face: a squall of pure anger.

  He railed against himself, and then realized what had to be done. The boy and the little harlot that failed to shoot him down when given a chance had to be dealt with quickly. Their actions had threatened the status quo not to mention the system of Absolution. What were they if not enemies of the State?

  Longman wrung his fingers and worried because there’d been no justice for the family of the dead boy which meant they’d have questions and want answers. He realized that even though no blood had been spilled that day, it would be soon. There was no question about it now. Though perhaps unintentionally, Elias and Marisol had betrayed him and everything that New Chicago stood for. There was no other way around it now. The boy and the girl would have to die.

  Elias was carried on the shoulders of Max and the other Trainers through the Pits in the day’s paling light. A celebration was in progress, the other Runners raising voices to his name, flinging words of encouragement, grinning, pumping fists. Bonfires were lit and instruments oiled and plans made to make merry into the wee hours of the night.

  It wasn’t just that Elias had won. It was the manner in which he’d won. He’d beaten the very best the Apes had and took down two of their nastiest assassins. His session of Absolution was instantly elevated to legend. Even Moses O’Shea partook in the festivities, beaming like a man who’d won more than he could have imagined, though he harbored worrisome suspicions that Longman would make Elias pay a terrible price. He’d seen how Longman had slinked, panther-like, away from the other watchers as soon as he saw that the boy had survived. Yes, there certainly would be hell to pay, but that worry was for another night. This eve was for drink and laughter and the building up of Elias and all the others who shared in his victory.

  22

  Marisol and the Apes limped back to their barracks in the tac vehicle, which was burdened with body-bags containing the chunks of the two Apes downed by the IED.

  She was uncertain whether Farrow and the others knew what had transpired between her and the boy, but she heard snatches of conversation, Sikes mumbling to Harrigan, who head-bobbed surreptitiously in her direction as he nursed a flask of hooch. She suspected they were plotting against her and would tell the commandant what had happened during the hunt. She was fine with that. The rules were the rules and technically time was up before she had a chance to trigger her rifle, but still. Questions would be posed and she plumbed her mind for some semblance of a reasonable answer as to why she didn’t down the boy when she’d had the chance.

  Word of Elias’s run spread like wildfire through the lower reaches of New Chicago, an area where any news, let alone good news, was exceptionally rare. The Scrappers who’d witnessed the run jawed with others, sharing images of the deaths of the Apes caught on a solar-powered, chewed-up smart-phone that was decidedly no longer smart, but still barely functioning. Blackened gums were bared for smiles as the downtrodden reveled in this boy from nowhere cutting down two of the Beast’s best men.

  Maybe the boy wasn’t precisely one of their own, but he was close enough, and he’d done what none of them had yet been able to do: Stick a finger in the eye of Longman, the devil.

  The images of the Apes falling gave the destitute some small measure of satisfaction along with something that was in far shorter supply in New Chicago. Hope.

  23

  The night was warm when Marisol exited the rear of the barracks. She was still beating herself up, still wondering what she had been thinking.

  A few spokes of heat lightning ripped the sky as she hopped onto a pair of tree-trunks that had been lashed together as part of a mini-obstacle course. Fires burned in the distance in the direction of the Pits.

  The Runners always celebrated after a successful hunt, which never quite made sense to Marisol because sooner or later, they’d fail.

  Even the best of them would pull a muscle or tweak a tendon or come up lame in some other fashion. It was just a matter of how and when they were added to the Apes’ scrapbook commemorating those killed in action. She squinted in the darkness and made out a form, barely visible, moving out and away from the Pits. Intrigued, she ducked back inside the barracks and snagged her rucksack, then moved out and away from all that she knew.

  Elias stole away from the Pits, which were now bathed in the retina-searing light from the great bonfires that had been set in his honor. Kegs of mashed cider and thick, dark beer had been tapped and opened, and sides of meat roasted by swineherds who’d been bused in by Moses for the occasion.

  All in Elias’s honor, and he loved it.

  The partiers would likely be inebriated till dawn, affording Elias the perfect opportunity for unfettered city exploration. He jaunted around the back of the Pits, dipped inside his room, closed and locked his door, then booted up the cellphone he took from Caleb.

  He swiped past the screens and files he’d seen before and tapped an icon hidden within a sub-folder. On the face of the phone sprung a digital GPS-linked map of some area in the middle of the city. A map! Elias gasped when he saw that it was located in Zone 3. The place where they kept the Crazies.

  He pinched the screen and zoomed down into the city and the images, which were incredibly detailed. Using his forefinger, he was even able to trace a path outside the city wall. He thumbed across the screen to get a better idea of what the map led to, and then he saw the key resting on the floor and surmised that whatever secrets that key kept hidden lay in Zone 3. He pocketed the phone and nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned and saw the person hidden in the shadows near a door, staring at him.

  “What happened to you?” Erik asked while emerging out of the darkness. Beads of sweat dappled Elias’s forehead. He had no idea how long Erik had been standing there or how much he’d seen.

  “Moses and some of the others were looking for you,” Erik continued.

  Elias tucked the phone in a pocket, the screen still glowing through the fabric on his pants as he searched for something, anything to say.

  “I was just … tired, Erik,” Elias said. “The run and all, it took a lot out of me.”

  Erik nodded, his eyes drifting to the place where the now-darkened phone rested in Elias’s pocket. For a brief instant Elias wondered what he might do if Erik asked about it.

  “You were amazing out there,” Erik said. “None of us could believe it.”

  Elias fought off a smile.

  “Just did what we’re all trained to do.”

  “It was a little more than that,” Erik replied, the levity in his face slipping away. “You need to be careful now, Elias.”

  “About what?

  “Just … you showed them u
p out there. The Apes. You made them look like fools.”

  “They are.”

  Erik didn’t reply. He turned as if to exit and then stopped and looked back at Elias.

  “Moses said ‘it’s in the wind now, Elias.’”

  “What – what does that even mean?”

  Erik shrugged his shoulders, face clouded with fear. “I’m serious about what I said before, Elias.”

  “I know you are.”

  “You kicked the crap out of the man,” Erik offered. “I mean, I don’t think you understand what … you showed up the best of his trained killers, that’s what you did today. All I’m saying is don’t forget who runs the show around here, okay? They’re gonna be pissed and the people that mess with Longman, they got really short futures if you know what I mean.”

  Elias flashed a high-wattage smile.

  “You worry too much, man. Those lifers don’t scare me. Truth is, they couldn’t catch me even if they wanted to. I’m too fast,” he replied before spinning around to exit.

  Elias strangely felt at peace as he stole silently away from Moses and the celebration, taking in the outer ring of the city under a half moon. He struck off down forgotten pathways, energized, excited, his heart thumping like a metronome.

  He sprinted through the urban jungle, listening to the sounds of New Chicago after dark. The city was generally as deadly as a pit of vipers, but Zone 3, his destination, was something else. It was downright feral. Elias heard the loud booms and satanic cackling emanating from the land of the Crazies before he saw anything. And then, moving over the crest of a fallen overpass he saw this: a sprawling apartment complex that formed a natural barrier between Zone 3 and the rest of the city, then tall fencing, at least fifteen feet high and topped with concertina wire that sprang out from either end of the complex and ringed the whole area off from the world.