Dead Dwarves Don't Dance

by Derek J. Canyon

  Grue jerked the wheel, barely missing the Kenworth rig with its trailer load of cars that was parked on the south side of the road, across from the eatery. The crowd of people standing in front of Jumbo’s suddenly realized he had no intention of stopping and scattered. The goon rammed the Dirtboy through the fuel pumps, sending geysers of bacterial petroleum spraying into the air. The vehicles crashed through the restaurant windows, through booths and tables, before jerking to a violent stop against the back wall.

  Earless dragged herself up from the floor. “Where is he?”

  Grue looked down at the top of the Dirtboy. “Gone! Now, where’s Munk?” He put the Safari in reverse and slowly backed out of the restaurant, trailing wood, plastic, and metal. He stopped the vehicle and looked around.

  “Last time I saw him he was heading for the head.”

  “All right, you grab your gun and cover me, I’ll go look for him.”

  Grue put the Grand Safari in park and stepped out the door, Ultima in hand. Earless stood in the door behind him, gun at the ready. The goon hurried across the gas-muddied dirt, around the crushed Mustang and past the bullet-riddled ice bin. He entered the restroom and saw legs sticking out from one of the stalls.

  “Oh, no…” he said under his breath. He pushed open the stall door. Munk’s corpse lay in a pool of blood. “Christ, no…”

  The goon collapsed to his knees, placing a hand on one of Munk’s legs. “Munk. You stupid idiot.”

  Finally he rose, with a grim and determined cast to his face. He turned around and left the restroom.

  “That dwarf killed Munk!” Grue roared as he jogged to the Grand Safari. Earless stood next to it, watching the smashed restaurant for any sign of movement.

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What? We gotta find that dwarf and roast his hide! Did you hear me? Munk’s dead!”

  Earless looked straight at the goon. “Dead’s dead. All he’ll do now is push up daisies, and we can’t stand around waiting for them to bloom. Get in the Safari and let’s fade!”

  Grue pushed the pleaser up against the rig. “Earless! Munk is dead!”

  She struggled free of his grasp and moved to the front of the Safari. “No kidding. I heard you the first two times. But all it means is more creds for me and you, unless we stick around too long and get nailed by cops.”

  “You greedy little–”

  A shower of gunfire clattered off the side of the Safari. Grue and Earless threw themselves into the oily mud and looked up the road to see two Preserve Ranger patrol cars about fifty meters away. Four Rangers stood behind them, firing bursts from their SMGs.

  “That was the warning shot!” said a voice over the loudspeaker from one of the police cars. “Drop your weapons and walk out into the street with your hands up!”

  “I don’t think so,” Earless snapped, jumping up and firing at the Rangers. As the return fire clanged around her she jumped into the rig.

  Grue did not react as quickly. He felt several rounds from the Rangers’ SMGs hit his vest before he managed to follow her inside and shut the door. Bullets pinged off the Safari’s armored hull.

  “Next time you plan something like that, tell me about it. You could’ve gotten me killed!”

  “We’ll both be dead if we don’t get out of here soon,” she said, pointing out the window. Apparently, sparks from the Rangers’ fire had ignited the spilled fuel, and flames licked up all around the Grand Safari.

  “Can today get any worse?” Grue moaned, sitting down and holding his forehead.

  A massive explosion shook the cab and the rear of the Safari lifted off the ground as an underground fuel tank detonated. Grue floated out of the seat and tumbled against the windshield, then rolled on top of Earless as the vehicle settled down on its side.

  “Get offa me!” Earless groaned under the goon’s weight.

  Grue struggled up over the driver’s seat and stood hesitantly on the Safari’s wall. He looked out the windshield, but could not make out much through the flames and smoke. A quick glance showed him the rear of the vehicle also engulfed in flame.

  “Grab a couple guns and get the side door open!” He rushed to the narrow closet near the middle of the Safari, opened it, and pulled out the case containing the certified cashcards. Earless was jumping up and down, trying to push open the side door above her head.

  “Here,” Grue said, handing her the case. He easily pushed open the door and it crashed back against the side of the Grand Safari. He took the case back and threw it up and out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re getting out of here.” He pulled two grenades from his pocket. “After I chuck these out there I’ll throw you after them. Try and make it to that Kenworth across the highway.”

  “Across the street?” Earless exclaimed. “Are you nuts? That’s a kill zone!”

  “We don’t have any choice.” Grue flipped the pins on the grenades. “These are smokers, and hopefully they’ll cover us when we run. I’ll try to cover you with my Ultima.”

  “This is freaking crazy,” Earless complained, but then a big grin spread across her face. “And that’s why I like it! No guts, no glory!”

  Grue tossed the smoke grenades out the door above his head. He grabbed her jacket at the neck, and she stepped onto his other hand. He lifted with both and threw her out.

  Earless soared out of the overturned Grand Safari, somersaulting in mid-air and landing five meters away, in the middle of flaming gasoline and swirling smoke. Hopping like a maniac, she skipped through the flames. Machinegun fire whizzed by. She darted across the street, firing blindly back at the cop cars beyond the smoke. Miraculously, she followed the smoke that drifted across the highway, and rolled underneath the big Kenworth Pioneer without suffering a scratch.

  She laughed, and jumped up on the other side of the Pioneer. A few bullets pinged nearby. She climbed up and pulled open the driver’s door.

  “Hey!” A beer-bellied, grey-whiskered, middle-aged human jumped back against his seat, cowering at the sight of her weapons. “What the–”

  Earless put one foot into the cab and pushed an SMG against the man’s gut. “Get out!”

  “Hey, yeah, sure!” The man tried to push past her but she jammed the gun hard into his side.

  “Out the other door!”

  “Wait a minute! I could get shot!”

  “You’ll definitely get shot if you stay here.” Earless pointed the gun at his head.

  The man nodded, slid across the seat, and popped open the passenger door. A huge hand reached in and yanked him out of the cab like a doll. As Earless pulled herself into the driver’s seat and started the powerful engine, Grue threw the case into the cab and climbed in.

  Earless put the Pioneer in gear and pulled out onto the road. She looked at Grue and noticed fresh bullet wounds in his right arm and leg.

  “You should try to duck more, Grue.” She aimed the Pioneer at the two Ranger groundcars blocking the highway to the west.

  The goon reloaded his Ultima and flinched as the windshield of the big tractor shattered under fire from the Rangers. Bullets penetrated into the sleeping berth behind them.

  “Hold on!” Earless yelled, flooring it. The Kenworth roared along the road. The Rangers jumped aside as the big rig smashed their vehicles onto the shoulder. Earless pulled the tractor’s loud horn as she sped away down the highway. One of the Ranger vehicles tipped into a roadside gulley. Two of the cops jumped into the second and squealed off after the semi.

  The remaining Rangers hurried over to the flaming building. A crowd of people slowly clambered out of the brush beside the road and walked toward the diner, staring at it in disbelief. A teenager on a motorcycle skidded to a stop, gaping at the flames and the pillar of smoke rising into the sky.

  “All right,” said one of the Rangers, “just stand back. Don’t get too close.”

  His partner ran up as close as the heat allowed and strained to see if anyone was
caught in the blaze. As he watched, a smoldering dwarf hobbled out of the wrecked restaurant, dragging an unconscious human. The Ranger rushed up and helped the dwarf haul the man to safety, finally dropping him in the dirt some distance from the fire.

  “Anyone else in there?”

  The dwarf shook his head, ashes drifting from his singed beard. “Don’t think so.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Stay here and relax, we’ll have an ambulance here in no time. Good job.” The Ranger patted the dwarf on the shoulder and hurried back to the fire to search for other survivors.

  The dwarf did not relax. He looked all around then walked toward the gaggle of gawkers that stood along the road. They cheered him and slapped his back, but received no response. He approached the kid on the dirt bike and, after a short, quiet conversation, road away on it. The kid watched him go, whistling and flipping a cashcard from hand to hand.

  48

  The Kenworth Pioneer, pulling a double trailer loaded with twenty new groundcars for the diminishing Amarillo market, roared down the highway, swerving wildly as the Rangers tried to pass it. One of the Rangers leaned out the passenger window, ready to fire at anything that showed itself.

  Earless wrenched the wheel, trying to prevent the groundcar from pulling up alongside. “I’m not going to do this all the way to Arizona, Grue.”

  The goon took one of her SMGs. He opened the passenger door, placing one boot on the exterior footstep and holding the seat for support. Looking back down the length of the car trailers, he could see the police car trying to edge around the Pioneer, but Earless’ crazy job of swerving and moving around the road held them back.

  “I got an idea,” Grue yelled. “Keep ‘em back there!” He stepped out of the cab and shut the door.

  “Easy for you to say,” Earless called after him.

  Grue looped the SMG belt over his shoulder and, despite the pain of three gunshot wounds, clambered onto the roof of the cab. Bullets whizzed by his head. He steadied himself on the sloping roof then jumped across the gap to the trailer. His wounded leg slipped between the tire ramps, and he barely caught the fender of the foremost car. He pulled himself up and made his way along the side of the vehicles.

  He had made it to the fifth car when the police finally snuck around the Pioneer on the right side. A Ranger pulled himself up through the passenger window and sat on the door, leveling his gun over the roof of the car and at the goon above him.

  Bullets flashed off the trailer and cars as Earless swerved. The big goon jumped over the hood of a Minicar Commuter, cracking the light material of the small vehicle. He returned fire from behind the car. The rounds bounced off the armored hood and windshield of the patrol car. The Ranger fired a few more times, but the jolting from the erratic driving hampered his aim.

  Grue hunkered behind the Commuter and watched the police car maneuver next to the Pioneer. He reached under the small car and disconnected the chains that held it in place. Planting his feet firmly on the tire ramp he grasped the small Commuter from beneath the door and lifted. It was lighter than he expected. He tilted the new car over and gave it one last shove to send it over the side.

  His aim was a little off, and the Commuter fell just in front of the cop car, which crashed into it, swerved, and collided with the trailer. The front fender wedged underneath the lower tire ramp, and the trailer rolled up and over the car’s hood, crushing it.

  The Ranger’s car scraped out from behind the big rig, spinning and sliding off the road. The trailer jumped and jerked violently as it bounced back down on the road, and Grue fell backwards over the side. He dropped the SMG and just managed to save himself by catching a support strut.

  Hanging onto the side of the trailer, feet dragging along the asphalt, Grue watched as the cop car came to a dusty stop behind them. Earless stopped swerving from side to side and increased speed. Grue grinned and spun around, getting a better grip.

  He was struggling to pull himself back onto the top deck when he saw a motorcycle emerge from the dust and smoke near the cop car. It sped toward them, gaining easily. The goon recognized the dwarf who rode it.

  “Damn it!” Grue swore. He pulled himself to the top deck in the empty space vacated by the Commuter. He looked back down the road and saw the motorcycle skid across the pavement behind them, riderless.

  Grue drew his Ultima, and bent down to look through the gap between the tire ramps.

  Bullets screamed past him. Fortunately for the goon, none of the rounds found their mark.

  “You’re a dead dwarf, Noose!” Grue’s words were ripped from his mouth by the wind. He leaned over cautiously, trying to find the dwarf through the maze of cars and struts, somewhere below. “You’re gonna regret killing Munk!”

  A bullet ripped into his upper arm. He yelped, and dove away. The shot came from the front of the trailer. Lying across the open space, he fired back blindly, hoping to keep the dwarf’s head down. Grue wondered how a stump-legged gimli like Noose could have moved to the front of the trailer so quickly.

  Noose scrambled forward while reloading his Stormer. Flipping the slide closed, he looked up and saw a green gunship soaring over the desert toward them. It was a Global Aeromotive Defender with minigun and rocket launchers.

  Earless turned the Pioneer off the highway and onto a neglected asphalt road leading to a dilapidated steel factory.

  The whine of the Defender’s engines roared in Noose’s ears as it flew directly overhead. He noted the lime green Wilderness Preserve insignia on its hull. As he watched, a bullet struck him in the shoulder. He fell into the gap between the cab and trailer, dropping his Stormer in the process of saving himself from slipping down onto the road.

  Grue roared in triumph when he saw Noose fall out of sight, and edged his way forward to make sure the dwarf was dead and gone. He kept a wary eye on the Defender, which swung around again.

  He was only three cars from the cab when the Defender dipped down. Fifty-millimeter rockets stitched a line across the scrub, converging unerringly with the Kenworth truck. The explosions ripped up onto the old road and cut through the car trailer. The car on the rack below Grue exploded, and then the coupe directly in front of him burst into flame. The explosion lifted the goon off the top rack and he flew backward off the trailer, to land in a dusty heap amid the roadside brush.

  Arcing up and around, the gunship turned back on the rig for another run. The Pioneer crashed through the rusted gates of an old and abandoned steel mill, swerved hard, and headed for the bigger and taller buildings deeper inside the huge complex. Flaming cars toppled off the side of the trailer, leaving behind a burning trail of demolished vehicles.

  Thousands of minigun rounds followed the Pioneer, and connected with the right side of the cab, easily shredding the plastic. Noose, still clinging to the rig, cringed under the rattling machinegun fire. Realizing that hiding behind the cab put him in harm’s way, he climbed onto the trailer’s bottom rack and made his way toward the rear.

  Rockets and bullets pounded the cab and engulfed it in flame just as it crashed through the sheet metal doors of a large building. The Pioneer smashed through rusted old machinery and finally jolted to a stop amid a tangle of broken metal beams, gears, chains, and other debris.

  49

  Noose opened his eyes and felt the bruise on the back of his head. Directly above, beyond a maze of catwalks, conduits, and hanging metal debris, he could see the sky through a tear in the building’s roof. Dozens of shafts of bright sunlight pierced many smaller holes in the ceiling, with ash and dust and smoke drifting through them like dancing faerie motes. A few meters away, the formerly pristine cars on the Pioneer’s trailer continued to burn, but only a few small fingers of flame played inside the charred cab of the big truck. The dwarf lifted himself onto one elbow and looked around. Rusting machinery of all sizes surrounded him, filling the giant, warehouse-like room.

  He drew his Wardog and rose unsteadily to
his feet. He wobbled as dizziness shot through his head, but managed to stumble over to the Pioneer and peer into the gutted cab. There was no sign of Earless.

  He struggled around the smashed equipment to the far side of the Kenworth. Sunlight glared in from the shattered doorway, illuminating a large section of the building. Noose walked to the opening and leaned against the wall, looking into the bright desert sunshine. Decrepit buildings surrounded him; weeds and scrub grew from the cracks and crevices.

  A huge hand grabbed Noose from behind and yanked him back into the building, spinning him around and knocking the gun from his hand. The pistol flew into a tangle of scrap metal.

  “Where is she?” Grue, dusty and bloody, growled at the dwarf. He held his right arm close to his side, a ragged slash on his head seeped blood through his white hair and around his ear.

  Noose’s thin lips stretched back from his teeth. “Dead, if she’s lucky.”

  “You’re a dead dwarf, Noose. Nobody messes with me and mine.”

  “I could say the same thing to you.”

  “You won’t be saying nothing inside five minutes, dirt-eater.” Grue lifted his good left arm and razor-sharp metal spurs shot out from the back of his hand. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “So am I,” Noose agreed, circling around the goon. He glanced sideways, trying to find the Colt in the jumble of metal and debris.

  Grue, his right arm badly injured, kept his left side toward the dwarf. He crouched low, ready to strike out with his blades. Noose, unarmed and with no hidden cybernetic surprises like the goon, was in no hurry to close the distance between them. Grue towered over the dwarf, like Goliath over David.

  “Something wrong, gimli?” Grue smiled, exposing his big teeth. “I’m gonna bleed you real good.”

  “Like I bled Munk? That coward died bad, begging and whining before I shot him on the toilet.”

  Grue bellowed and rushed at the dwarf, swinging his arm around low. Noose caught him on the wrist, pivoted on his left foot, and sent the goon catapulting into a mess of machinery.