by Makarov, Ian
Death Takes A Stroll
Jet looked over the gun, examining it from all possible angles.
“It's a fine piece of craftsmanship, but not very rare I'm afraid. Any idea who the guy was?”
Nukkie shook her head. “His clothing was deliberately inconspicuous. All he had on him was the gun, few chips and this” She replied, handing him the note.
“Hmmm…” he pondered for a second. “It looks like Cyrillic alphabet, probably Russian, or Bulgarian, i can't really tell”
“Any idea who can?”
“Let me think about it.... Oh right, that old geezer. There's a town called Road's End about ninety miles north. The town's former doctor, Patterson, had a love for foreign languages. Maybe he can help. If he hasn't died of old age already.”
“Well, it's my best bet right now.”
“So did you open it?”
“Open what?”
“Why the package of course. Maybe it will give us a better idea why that guy wanted it. Why he would go so far as to kill Reggie to obtain it.”
“I tried; the lock on the box is far too complex for me to pick. Plus, if it's something valuable, I wouldn't want to damage it.”
“Here, lemme take a look.”
Jet laid the small metal box on his table, took out a scratched magnifying glass, and started examining the lock. Nukkie crossed her arms as she was watching. His lips were moving, but no sound came out, as if he was talking to himself. Or the box. Suddenly, he kicked on the ground, and pushed his wheeled chair towards a nearby toolbox, swiftly opening the drawers one after another, and finally fishing out a pair of thin tools. Without another word, he pushed his chair in the direction of the workbench, this time stopping short on the tire iron he had left lying around after repairing Nukkie’s rig. He frowned, as she let out a small laugh, and kicked the tire iron aside, before wheeling all the way back to the bench.
“Your laziness baffles me…” she remarked timidly.
Jet rolled his eyes.
“It's not laziness Nukkie, it's the essence of what we Enginemasters do. Trying to make life easier. Take this office chair, for example. Why get up and walk all the way to the toolbox, when I can roll there without leaving its padded comfort?”
“You're just lazy.”
“No I'm not, show me one lazy person who would build you a rig like that.” he said pointing his thumb at the semi behind her without taking his eyes off the lock he was trying to pick.
“Hey you got paid a nice fat stack of sweet chippy plasticness for it. Besides, you get to play with it every time I'm in town.”
“You mean fix it. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised this baby still runs after all the abuse in your hands. Maybe you'd be better off with a traditional goat-and-gutted-pickup wagon.”
Nukkie opened her mouth to throw him a witty comeback, but she was interrupted by a click and a hissing sound of depressurization.
“And voila, it's open.” Jet gloated. He opened it up revealing a rather large sealed vial with a biohazard symbol on it.
“What is it?” she asked
“Mmmm, I'm not sure” he raised up the vial, and looked through the pale green liquid in it, against the light, then froze as his eyes hit the inscription on the label.
STRAIN OMEGA
CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENT ONLY
EXTREME BIOHAZARD
“Um, um, um…” Jet stuttered “Something tells me the people who want this are no good people.”
As Nukkie leaned in to see, a clicking sound on the workshop's back door drew their attention. The knob was moving, and it looked like someone was trying to get in. Nukkie grabbed the vial, and shoved it back into its metal box, closing it and the sound of a small device pressurizing the contents followed, sealing the case.
“Get in the truck.” she said low, and ran to the driver's side, while Jet went around the back to the other side.
The diesel block came to life, thick, black smog billowing out of the stacks, as three men armed with rifles burst in from the door, and she saw Jet falling on the ground, shot, in her right rearview mirror.
“Alright creeps, this is how you want to play it? I'm game!”
She put the semi in reverse, and slammed on the gas. The men, startled, tried to make it back to the door, but for two of them it was already too late, as the trailer crushed them against the wall, shaking the entire building, causing dust to fall from the rafters.
Nukkie jumped out, gun in hand, running around the front to the rig’s other side, where Jet was on the floor bleeding. Quickly, she kneeled next to him, cradling his head on her lap.
“C’mon buddy, stay with me.” She implored
But Jet, lung-shot, was already coughing up blood. He was beyond saving.
“Get out, Nuk… Don’t… Let them get their hands on it…”
She caught the sight of more pairs of legs from under the trailer, more men coming in through the machine shop’s backdoor. Quickly, she jumped back on her feet as Jet was shooting at the intruders from under the trailer and ran towards the cab, climbing in the passenger side. As she was moving over to the driver’s seat, one of the assailants opened the door, catching two bullets in the face for his trouble.
She slammed the door shut and put the rig in gear, engine already running and went hard on the gas pedal releasing the clutch. The armored behemoth lunged forward roaring and smashed through the large front doors, making a sharp turn towards the town gate. The Lawmen on the guard towers, hearing the ruckus, had already started closing the heavy iron gates while another one was taking position to shoot at her.
“C'mon baby give me all you got, don't let Jet down now.”
A bullet jumped off the front grille; another one shattered the windscreen on the right side. Clearing the gate with mere inches to spare, she gunned the large semi towards the old highway. Accelerating, she kept checking her mirrors for anyone giving chase, but for several minutes they showed nothing but asphalt, dirt and sky. Finally satisfied, but still on edge, she focused on the road, muttering a curse under her breath. She was going to get to the bottom of this. And those who tried to kill her and had murdered Jet in cold blood?
Well their future didn't look bright at all.
A Moment’s Respite
The little red light kept flashing erratically. The sun was long gone; the chilling night air came gushing through the broken half of the windshield, making the cab of the old semi a bit less pleasant than it used to be, however, she couldn't stop sweating. She knew the Lawmen; they'd surely be after her. Nukkie closed her eyes for a second, recounting that afternoon’s events.
A trail of corpses, Jet shot, and her, almost crashing through Pump Hill's gates in an attempt to escape. The Lawmen would surely be all over her case for the mess, and her rig, being a real rarity in itself, was easily recognizable.
She passed under a faded highway sign. The intersection coming up would be a good place to take a break. A new, prolonged, jagged beep came from somewhere under her dashboard and the red light started flashing faster. The engine was dry and thirsty.
“It's just another mile.” She muttered. “I'm sure you can go this little bit further.”
Nukkie took another long hard look in her mirrors to spot any lights, but everything seemed as quiet as ever. She drove off the highway at the exit ramp, and under the intersection. This should work to hide her rig long enough for the engine to cool down and for her to try to mend the radiator. She applied the brakes and cut the engine. A white column of steam shooting out between the thick, square iron bars that made up the front grille greeted her as soon as she jumped down.
“Great, just what i needed. Lucky bastards…” she sighed, and went over to open the side compartment fishing out a pair of night-vision binoculars, a precious relic she had acquired on her first big run. Deciding to use the time until the engine cooled, she walked back up the intersection ramp, turned the binoculars on, and started scouring the h
orizon for anything to indicate someone was in pursuit. Nothing out of the usual. It was just another quiet desert night. She leaned against the old metal railing and tilted her head back letting out an exasperated breath. It was time to forget about being hunted, and focus on getting some clue about the bastards behind this. The mysterious note seemed a good lead as any, so she decided this would be her first line of inquiry. Road’s End wasn’t far, as she had already been northbound. But first, she would have to patch her rig.
A few minutes later, she was looking at her perforated radiator. The hole was too large to ignore, but she was always carrying some material with her for emergency repairs, and years of looking over Jet's shoulder had done their good too. Opening a small toolbox she took out a piece of an old, fat, garden hose, and some cable ties. Luckily, the hole was on an easy spot, which meant she could lay hands on it until she was able to have it repaired properly. She cut open the hose, applied it over the hole with some glue for better sealing, then secured it in place nice and tight with the cable ties. It wasn't certain the patch would last with the temperatures in question, but it would have to hold for a bit. Filling up the coolant she had lost was the hard part since her personal water supply was all she had left. Cursing she poured it into the radiator, drank the last bit, then climbed back inside the cab. It was still forty miles to Road's End, and that meant she needed to press on and be there before dawn.
The engine roared to life, pulling the rig out of its hiding spot and back on the highway.
Unexpected Revelations
The day was going to be blazing hot. It was only 10am, and Mike couldn’t bear to wear anything more than a sleeveless shirt. Despite the heat, life in the town seemed to go on unaffected. He tapped his pipe on the side of his rocking chair to empty out the ashes then refilled it and lit it up again. He kept rocking back and forth observing the people going their ways from his porch. Every now and then, one of the locals would pass by, nodding respectfully at him. Retirement was nice.
Especially after having served the town’s needs for forty long years. His somewhat revered position in the local society gave him a deep satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment, which he would treasure for the rest of his days. A voice interrupted his pondering.
“Are you Dr. Patterson?”
He lifted his eyes to the owner of the voice, a somewhat short but athletic, red-haired woman. By her looks, she couldn't be more than thirty, but it was obvious she hadn't been sleeping well, and that could throw the old man off his estimate.
“Indeed, I am, miss, but I am now retired. If you require medical attention you should visit my daughter just down the street”
The woman cracked a tired smile.
“Thank you sir, but I'm more interested on your linguistic skills” she replied
Old Dr. Patterson raised an eyebrow. He was an avid foreign language enthusiast, but it had been years since he was asked to translate anything. How a complete out-of-towner knew about this was a mystery to him, but he was more intrigued by the thought of having to refresh his vocabulary.
“Certainly, miss, what do you need translated?”
The woman reached inside a pocket and presented him with a ragged piece of paper. He looked over it carefully, then his eyes lit up.
“My, my, now there's an alphabet i haven’t seen in a long time. Hmmm... It's certainly Russian... I'm afraid I'll need my dictionary for this.”
He stood up slowly, opened the house door, and gallantly motioned the woman to enter.
“After you, miss.......?”
“Pliskin” She said as she walked in with a small nod of appreciation.
Nukkie looked around, the house was shady and cool, a pleasant change from the heat outside. The living room was furnished plainly, with old, worn furniture and a smell of aged leather lingered in the air. The walls were taken over by large bookcases, on which rested dozens and dozens of books, mostly on medicine as she could discern from some of the faded titles. The kind old man went to one and pulled out a somewhat chubby book, laying it on the desk nearby, and leafing through it methodically. He then took a plain old pencil and started scribbling on the back side of the note. A few more minutes passed, then he raised his head, pushed his chair backwards, and held the piece of paper out to Nukkie.
“There you go young lady.”
She snatched the paper and started reading through the translation hastily.
Dimitry,
I have found out the location of our target. It is en-route to Pump Hill as we speak, to be delivered tomorrow to a trader of “exotic goods” by the name of Reggie. Once you have secured the container, dispose of both Reggie and the courier. We cannot risk them knowing anything of our operation. If everything goes well, we will be able to start the final phase by the end of the week.
Good Hunting
Nikolai
“That two-bit rat!” Nukkie spat out, seething.
“Everything all right?”
“Oh yes doc, everything is just perfect.” She said turning to the door. “Thanks a lot doctor, remind me to buy you a drink next time I'm in town.”
“Glad I could be of service, Ms. Pliskin. I ain't gonna forget about that offer.”
Nukkie stepped outside and made haste towards the spot through which she had sneaked inside town earlier. There was only one person who could have given this info to that Nikolai character, whoever he was. And that person would have to be reminded what one gets when they mess with the bull.
Hauler’s Code
He never saw it coming. His limbs were trembling, his heart pumping more and more adrenaline through his body as the seconds passed on with the pace of years. His thoughts were racing. Not a chance of escape. It was as if the cold blade on his throat had a paralyzing touch that made his body defy his brain's commands. The deadly silence was broken by a familiar voice, although he already knew whose hand it was on the other end of the blade.
“You better start talking Ray... I've given you more than enough chances, but you still don't get it. Or is it that you intentionally want to make me repeat myself?”
“Nnno-no... I just...” he stuttered as the blade pushed harder against his throat.
“Save it. You're family, but don't think that's going to save your skin this time. Uncle already knows about this; he won't cover you. You're dead either way, but if you tell me what I want to know... I might just give you a chance to run.”
“O-ooh-ok! Ok! Anything you want”
The sun was starting to set. It was getting cold, but that wasn't his concern anymore. He would just give his cousin what she wanted, even if it meant he would only live a few more days on the run from Family silencers.
“Tell me about the package you had me ferry two days ago.”
“Okay, okay, j-just put the knife away.”
The next second he was landing on his porch, shoved hard against the wall. He turned around putting his back to the wall, and looked up at her. Her face was dark, as the sun was setting behind her, he could barely make out her eyes, cold and expressionless as always. Ray almost preferred the coldness of her combat knife against his throat to the coldness of her stare. Nukkie sheathed the knife on her belt and drew a bulky revolver with a heavy scope attached on top, pointing it between his eyes.
“Speak.”
“Right.” Ray took in a deep breath collecting his thoughts. “I found the vial in an old government bunker. The place was a dump, and i was just looking for parts. As I was looking around i fell through the floorboards in a cement shaft of some kind, so i went on to see where it led...”
“Cut to the chase”
“Alright, it was a lab of some kind, lots of glass stuff strange machines, and that case inside an old fridge, with the vial inside. I reckoned it was really important, so I sold it to Reggie for a shitload of plastic. And of course I called you for the transport. Thing is, a couple hours after you left here with the thing, this guy shows up and waves a sawn-of
f in my face, wants to know all about it.”
“So you just sold me out”
“Well he had some very convincing arguments, exactly like yours. And trust me, keeping all my fingers is just too good a bargain to pass up. Besides, I knew you’d be fine. You could always handle yourself against much worse.”
Nukkie felt the rage swell inside her, which translated to a swift kick in his ribcage.
“Uunnngh! It wasn't my fault!”
“Shut it! What else did you notice about this guy?”
Ray coughed a couple of times catching his breath again.
“He had a large scar on his cheek. I think I heard him say the name of a camp some hundred eighty miles southeast, when he was talking to the guys he had with him. Wouldn't go there though, that's Brotherhood territory.”
Nukkie knew the settlement. It was a meeting point of the old interstates and still a significant
trading post.
“Oh you won't be going anywhere, Ray. At least not by yourself.”
She raised her revolver again.
“NO! You said you'd let me go!”
“And I will, Ray. My word is a contract. But that’s a notion you totally forgot about, haven’t you? You’re a disgrace to the Families, you pathetic sack of shit. Of course, I never said anything about letting you go on your own two feet.”
Ray screamed as Nukkie's bullets tore through his kneecaps, and he lay there helpless, beating his fists on the wooden porch in pain and agony. And in vain. Nobody was around to hear him, except the woman who was taking her sweet time walking away, as if she wanted to savor his desperation, indulge in his cries for help. He knew she wouldn't turn back. He had other things to worry about though. The sun was gone, and the jackals would be on his scent soon, and even if he survived the night, the silencers would visit him sooner or later. The fate reserved for all those who betrayed the family in the hands of the silencers was far worse than the jackals. The pain started to cloud his thoughts; his perception started to fade.
