First Family

by Patrick Tilley

  ‘But Tyson didn’t believe you.’

  ‘No. But don’t ask me why. I didn’t wait to find out what his job was or who he was talking to. None of what he said about me was really true but the damage was done. You know what the rules are. As far as the Federation was concerned I was finished. So I gave him three in the head.’ Steve spread his hands. ‘Only thing I could do.’

  ‘And you stayed here…’

  ‘Had nowhere else to go.’

  Malone nodded in agreement and fingered the radio set. ‘Ever see one like this before?’

  ‘Nope. It’s new to me.’

  Malone appeared to accept this. He inspected the fingernails on his right hand then fixed his pale eyes on Steve. ‘Did you catch the name of the person he was calling?’

  ‘It was a code-name. “Mike-X-Ray-One”.’ Steve saw Malone exchange a sideways glance with Yellow-Cap. ‘Tyson called himself “Snake-Eyes”.’

  ‘What did you do with him?’

  Steve pointed in the direction of the first grave. ‘He’s under that pile of rocks over there.’

  Malone turned to Yellow-Cap. ‘Check it out.’

  The renegade tapped three guys for the grave-digging detail.

  Steve called to them as they walked away. ‘He ain’t gonna look too pretty!’ He turned back to Malone.

  ‘So… Mr Brickman. You spent the winter here alone…’

  ‘That’s right. Didn’t see another human being until a week ago.’ Steve hunkered down and stroked the wolf cub. ‘Good old Baz here woke me up in the middle of the night. Before I had time to get my boots on some joker steps off a plane and away it goes.’

  ‘Who was he – a friend of Tyson’s?’

  ‘I didn’t ask.’ Steve pointed to the newly-dug grave. ‘But if you want to check him out, he’s under that other pile of rocks over there.’ The newly-dead cee-bee was Steve’s alibi in case any stray renegades had seen or heard the Skyrider passing overhead. If they were in the vicinity, it would be only natural for them to mount a precautionary search of the area.

  Malone looked in the direction of the grave then sent someone to break the news to Yellow-Cap. ‘Is that why you decided to leave?’

  ‘Yeah. I’d figured that, what with the snow and the bad weather an’ all, they probably wouldn’t come looking for Tyson until the spring. And sure enough everything was fine until a week ago – when the guy that’s under those rocks dropped in out of the blue. I decided that if Tyson’s replacement didn’t report in things might start to get a little hot around here.’

  ‘That’s right, they could.’ Malone kept his eyes glued on Steve. ‘What do you think Tyson was doing out here?’

  ‘You tell me. All I know is he wasn’t out to improve my career prospects.’

  Malone’s mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile. ‘You certainly didn’t do much for his.’

  ‘Survival’s the name of the game. I learned that while I was with the M’Calls.’

  ‘So where you were heading? Back to your Mute friends?’

  Steve shook his head. ‘Just away from here. And let’s get one thing straight. Those lumps ain’t no friends of mine.’

  Malone nodded. ‘Where did you get the fur coat?’

  ‘Same place I got the bedding roll. Tyson. All I own is that rifle and what I’m standing up in.’

  ‘And the cub…’

  ‘Baz, yeah, well… it got kinda lonely. I needed someone to talk to.’

  Malone favoured him with another twisted smile. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Brickman. Aren’t many people around able to survive on their own the way you have. Handling animals too. You learn fast.’

  ‘I always have.’

  ‘I bet…’ Malone called Baz to him. The wolf cub ambled forward wagging his tail playfully. Malone pulled a dried meat twist from the tucker-bag slung from his waist, snapped a piece off and held it up so that Baz had to leap for it. ‘Tyson teach you to hunt grizz?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Steve.

  Malone’s voice suddenly hardened. ‘Hold him!’

  Two renegades grabbed Steve and put him in a double arm lock. Malone grabbed the wolf cub by the neck as it turned back towards Steve and pulled out his air pistol.

  ‘No!’ shouted Steve. But it was too late. As the cry left his lips, Malone placed the muzzle against the back of the cub’s head and put a bullet through its skull.

  ‘Okay, let him go,’ snapped Malone. He lobbed the limp body of Baz towards him. ‘Skin it.’

  Steve stood there trembling with rage, the dead wolf cub clutched to his chest. ‘You sonofabitch…’

  ‘Save your breath, Brickman. And please, no heroic gestures. You’re in enough trouble already.’

  Steve drew Naylor’s combat knife from the scabbard strapped to his right calf, threw a murderous look at Malone, then set to work. The razor sharp blade had been specially worn down to look as if it had been hand-sharpened on primitive grinding stones. Steve skinned the cub with a judicious mixture of skill and clumsiness. His instructors at Rio Lobo had spent hours coaching him on how to act naturally, and they did not relent until he could perform the whole range of mundane tasks connected with basic survival with the unaffected ease one would expect from somebody who had spent more than nine months marooned on the overground. He peeled the fur from the bloody carcass and threw it down at Malone’s feet.

  ‘Now butcher it,’ said Malone imperturbably. ‘And when you’ve done that, light a fire and cook it for me.’

  Steve exchanged a look with Jodi Kazan. It was clear he had her sympathy but she made no move to intercede on his behalf. Given the real facts of the situation, Malone and the other renegades had every reason to be suspicious but, by the same token, it meant that AMEXICO’s overground operations were not as secret as Karlstrom might have wished them to be.

  Inserting his knife between the rear legs, Steve slit open the carcass up to the rib cage and set about removing the intestines, heart and lungs, wishing, as he did so, that he could ram the whole stinking mess down Malone’s throat. The threat of any revenge attack by Steve appeared to be the least of Malone’s concerns. He and his men returned to the task of ransacking the hide. Malone got the pick of what was found, the rest was distributed to the members of the group according to need.

  Yellow-Cap returned with the grave-digging detail and confirmed the presence of two corpses. Steve busied himself with lighting a fire. Malone left Steve under guard and went to inspect the bodies.

  While he was gone, Jodi gathered up some kindling and brought it over to Steve. ‘Listen, don’t do anything stupid. Just hang in there. It’ll all work out.’

  ‘Were they this way with you?’

  ‘No, but… the circumstances were a little different. I wasn’t in any shape to argue.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ muttered Steve. ‘So he’s the honcho. He wants to prove he’s a hard man. Point taken. But you told him what the score was. Why he’s giving me such a hard time?’

  ‘I don’t know. Could be that radio set.’

  ‘It’s not mine, Jodi. I swear it. Come on – you know there isn’t any stuff like that aboard the wagon-trains.’

  ‘That’s true. But since I’ve been free-basing with these guys I’ve discovered there’s a lot of things I didn’t know about.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Jodi glanced over his shoulder and saw Malone and Yellow-Cap heading towards them. She started to back off. ‘Later…’

  Steve grabbed her wrist. ‘Hey, Jodi – try and put in a good word for me, huh?’

  ‘Sure…’ She pulled free and hurried away.

  Malone and Yellow-Cap came over and watched as Steve threaded the wolf cub’s carcass on a stick and suspended it over the fire; a technique he had learned from the Mutes. He stood up as the renegade leader surveyed his handiwork. ‘Satisfied?’

  Malone replied with a lightning-fast, left-hand punch to the solar plexus. As Steve staggered under the unexpected blow, Malone followed up with an equally ha
rd right to the jaw that put him on his back. Stunned, and bleeding from the mouth, Steve rolled over and tried to haul himself up onto his hands and knees. Malone waited until his body was off the ground then sank a boot into his groin. Steve went down in a heap.

  Malone stood over him as he lay doubled up in agony. ‘Lemme give you a word of friendly advice, Brickman. I don’t like wise guys. Comprendo?’

  Steve gritted his teeth in an effort to block the pain flooding through his body and nodded mutely.

  Malone turned to the nearest of the renegades who had gathered round them. ‘Pick him up. He makes the place look untidy.’

  Two guy hauled Steve to his feet and held on tight to his arms as he swayed unsteadily. Malone stepped forward and thrust his face in close. ‘I’m going to tell you something else too. I don’t believe a word you’ve said. Y’know what I think? I think you’re an undercover Fed. A fuggin rat-fink sent out here by the Family to shaft us breakers.’

  ‘If you think that, you must be off your trolley,’ said Steve, barely able to move his lower jaw. ‘You’ve been out here so long your brain’s been deep-fried.’

  Malone nodded soberly then stepped back and delivered a left hook that nearly took Steve’s head off. ‘You’ve got a big mouth,’ he said amiably.

  Steve felt the right hand side of his face stiffening and swelling to match the left. His mouth felt as if it was full of pebbles – pieces of chipped tooth enamel whose size and shape had been misread by his swollen tongue. He tried to summon up the necessary coordination to spit in Malone’s face but only succeeded in dribbling blood and saliva down his own chin. ‘Listen,’ he said thickly, ‘if you’re going to kill me, go ahead and get it over with. What difference does it make? After being out here for nine months I’m finished anyway.’

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Malone. ‘But we don’t waste bullets on rat-finks.’ He turned to Yellow-Cap. ‘Post him.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ cried Jodi. She pushed her way through and tried to grab Malone’s arm. ‘Listen –’

  Malone brushed her away and levelled a warning finger. ‘Shut your mouth and stay in line!’

  Jodi stood her ground. ‘Malone, please! I shipped out with this guy. He’s okay, I promise you! I’ll stake my life on it!’

  Several of Malone’s lieutenants cocked their weapons and covered Jodi to forestall any rash move. Malone drew his air pistol and with a slow, deliberate movement extended his arm, bringing the muzzle within an inch of Jodi’s forehead. ‘Not another word…’

  Jodi bit her lip and backed slowly away.

  Using standard-issue axes, two renegades cut and sharpened a five inch thick stake then set about planting it firmly in the ground. Unable to tell whether he was about to be killed or merely suffer another round of punishment, Steve watched dull-eyed, mentally berating himself for obeying his instructions so precisely. If he had left the hide a day earlier he might have avoided meeting Malone’s raggle-taggle gang of cut-throats. On the other hand, he would not have encountered Jodi Kazan. It was obvious she had been reduced to subservience but she had, nevertheless, stuck her neck out as far as she dared and might still be able to provide some assistance – always assuming he survived Malone’s next party trick.

  Admittedly he had not improved the situation by mouthing off. Ever since he had soared off the ramp at Lindbergh Field and had come to face with the overground, had felt its presence pierce the core of his being, Steve had found it increasingly difficult to hold his tongue. He had even pushed his luck with the President-General. Well, his luck had finally run out. Karlstrom had warned him that renegade groups had become extremely cautious about picking up stray Trackers. They had good reason to be. Like all graduates from Rio Lobo, Steve had been well-prepared for such an encounter. His knowledge of the area was encyclopaedic, his appearance could not be faulted, his cover story was watertight, and the two carefully-planted corpses were conclusive evidence that every word of it was true. Even the radio had been part of the carefully rehearsed scenario.

  Running into Jodi Kazan had been an unexpected bonus. Her word alone should have been enough to allay any doubts about his story. But, for some reason, her companions seemed reluctant to believe her. Indeed, in Malone’s case, his suspicions bordered on paranoia. The only way to satisfy him would be to admit the truth of his accusation. Not a good move. Given the renegade leader’s simmering hatred of the Federation, it would be a graveside confession. He just had to hang tough and take whatever nastiness Malone was preparing to hand out.

  When the earth had been stamped flat leaving four feet of post sticking in the air, Steve was hustled over and forced to kneel with his back to it and with a leg on either side. He was then pulled tight against the post by ropes that went around his waist, chest and neck. Steve wondered why his hands had been left free. The full horror of what lay in store soon became apparent. The week-old corpse of the cee-bee that Steve had shot and buried was dragged over and manhandled into a kneeling position facing Steve. Two renegades grabbed Steve’s wrists, pulled his arms around the corpse and bound his wrists tightly together.

  Steve pulled his head away from the grey, dirt-streaked face of the dead cee-bee and tried to avoid looking into the gaping eye sockets. ‘Hey, guys,’ he croaked through swollen jaws. ‘What is this? Come on, give me a break.’

  Yellow-Cap leaned towards him. ‘Friend, if you want to do yourself a favour, tell the man what he wants to hear.’

  ‘I already told you! I been out here since I powered down over Wyoming! It’s Tyson and this guy who are the Feds!’

  ‘You may be right,’ admitted Yellow-Cap.

  ‘So why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘We’re just trying to get to the bottom line, Brickman. You claim you shot this guy –’

  ‘That’s right –’

  ‘Yeah… but which one of you got off the plane?’

  ‘He did!’

  ‘So you say – but can you prove it?’

  ‘Christo! What d’you want – a videogram from the P-G?! I know this area like the back of my hand. I got traps out everywhere. I can take you back to where I stashed what was left of Blue-Bird –’

  Yellow-Cap cut him short. ‘If you wanted to get back home why didn’t you use Tyson’s radio?’

  ‘I thought it was broken. I didn’t know how to fix it.’

  Yellow-Cap responded with a sardonic smile. ‘Come on, you can do better that that. You’re a wingman. You people are supposed to be sharp.’

  ‘We are. That’s why I didn’t try to call anybody. There was no point. Tyson had already screwed my chances of getting back home.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we only have your word for that.’

  ‘What was I supposed to do? Work my ass off keeping both of’em alive until you guys decided to drop by?’

  Yellow-Cap nodded. ‘Good point. Maybe you are a genuine dropout. You just can’t tell these days. For all you know we might be undercover Feds ourselves.’ He grinned. ‘That would be a real joke, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, terrific,’ said Steve sourly. ‘I always wanted to meet one.’

  The two renegades who were securing the ropes pulled the corpse’s arms over Steve’s shoulders and tied them around the post. Yellow-Cap checked the bindings to make sure Steve could not wriggle out of the grisly embrace then undid the straps holding the combat knife to Steve’s calf. ‘Guess you won’t be needing this…’

  Steve watched them all walk away with a mixture of despair and disbelief. Over by the dug-out, the other renegades were hitching up their backpacks and getting ready to depart. Jodi came over to Steve with a waterbottle. She knelt down on one knee and put it to his lips. ‘Compliments of Malone.’

  Steve responded with a harsh laugh. ‘What’s this supposed to do – make me feel better, or prolong the agony?’

  ‘Drink…’ She let the water trickle into his mouth.

  Steve swallowed thirstily but did not overdo it. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Listen, I’m really
sorry about this but – you didn’t exactly help by mouthing off. We may look a raggedy-assed bunch but Malone runs a tight ship – the way Big D did aboard The Lady. You made it through the winter but only because you found this place and the guy who was living here showed you how. A breaker can’t make it on his own. If you want to survive you have to run with the pack. And that means toeing the line the honcho lays down.’

  ‘I’ll try and remember that. Mind how you go.’

  Jodi glanced over her shoulder then slipped a knife into the ground between Steve’s knees where it could not be seen. ‘Hang on in there, good buddy,’ she whispered. ‘I’m still on your case.’ ‘She stood up and screwed back the cap of the water bottle. ‘When we’ve gone, try working that post loose.’

  Steve nodded. Jodi rejoined the waiting renegades. Malone’s party had already left. The remainder split up into several small groups, each of which took a different path towards the west.

  Nobody looked back. It was as if he had ceased to exist.

  Steve glanced up at the sky. It would not be long before he attracted the attention of the flying flesh-eaters. The burden of the dead cee-bee was already becoming intolerable. He shuffled his knees around in an effort to get rid of the cramps that were starting to build up in his legs. The ropes allowed him very little movement but by shifting his weight from one knee to the other he was able to ease the discomfort. Steve knew the relief was only temporary. The pain would get steadily worse and, in a matter of hours, would be continuous and unbearable.

  The head of the cee-bee lolled forward onto his left shoulder. Steve pulled his face away and glanced down out of the corner of his eye. The corpse’s mouth hung half open. A fly alighted by the side of it and went inside to explore.

  Oh, Talisman, thought Steve. If it is true that I was born in your shadow, now is the time to prove it. If you can get me out of this, I swear I’ll never doubt anything that Mr Snow says about you ever again…

  Twelve

  When the last renegade had disappeared from view, Steve shuffled his knees forward as far as he could then pushed back hard against the post and tried to rock it from side to side. For a long time he seemed to be getting nowhere then, after a frantic bout of rocking in the arms of his dead partner, he managed to produce a small sideways movement. In fact, it was so small it was barely detectable. It didn’t matter. It meant he was in with a chance. It was going to work, he told himself. You are going to get out of this, Brickman. He rested a while to catch his breath and ease his cramped muscles then returned to the attack, straining backwards and forwards to produce an all-round widening of the post hole.