Bounty Hunter: Dig Two Graves

by Rachel Aukes

  “Good. I’m glad to know I can count on you, Commander. You continue to be of use to me.”

  He disconnected the call, leaving her with a cold chill. She gave a final, curious glance at the door before giving up and seeking out Joe.

  She found him standing guard outside the silo.

  “Hey, Val. Have you made a decision about abandoning the silo?” he asked.

  “We’re not abandoning it—not yet.” She shaded her eyes and searched the sky for drones, even though they could be flying higher than she could see. She moved closer to Joe and whispered, “I need a hacker, and not just any hacker. I need someone who can help me break into a room with unbreakable security.”

  His helmet was on, so she couldn’t see his reaction.

  After a length, he said, “I might know someone who owes me a favor.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Joe messaged his contact. Hackers were quirky about taking calls, and Scorpion was quirkier than most. She’d provided Joe with a special encryption program to run on any message he sent. He typed out the details Val had given him regarding the mysterious sealed door at the bottom of a Zenith silo.

  An encrypted reply came one minute later.

  I’m in.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sara Swinton didn’t like bringing Nick and Romy with her to meet the gang leader, but she couldn’t leave them in Grundy’s house in case another drone showed up. Either option was dangerous, but if they were home during another attack, their deaths would be guaranteed. At least with Sara, they had a chance.

  Thor and his teenaged gang led the Swintons through foul-smelling alleys and Far Town’s dank underground tunnels. Sara held Nick’s and Romy’s hands, while Champ was glued to Nick’s side. Every so often, they passed a pile of blankets that moved, making Sara realize that more homeless lived in Cavil than she’d thought.

  The teens didn’t speak to the Swintons, but they threw glances over their shoulders periodically, as though making sure they were still following. Thor carried the drone with obvious pride, though shifted it in his arms often, clearly struggling with the weight but refusing to let anyone else carry his prize.

  They entered a service hallway with a sign that read, Redline Casino and Resort: Employee and Delivery Access Only. Several winding hallways later, they entered a small waiting room with an attractive female receptionist sitting at a desk near another door. Several chairs were lined up alongside two walls. The room was clean and well-appointed without being pretentious. Nick and Romy gave Sara questioning faces. She gave them a reassuring smile and squeezed their hands.

  The receptionist smiled in a friendly manner. “Thor, Mr. Law will see you now. Your friends are free to go.” To Sara she said, “Please have a seat. Mr. Law will see you as soon as he’s done with Thor.”

  “I’ll catch up with you at the clubhouse,” Thor told his friends. He then strolled up to the door, which the receptionist opened by pressing a button on her desk, and disappeared into the next room.

  Sara motioned Nick and Romy to the chairs, while the gang rallied to leave.

  “Mm. Dogs taste good,” a teen with greasy hair said as he passed Nick.

  Nick’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped.

  “Woof, woof!” another teen added.

  Romy glared. “That’s not funny.”

  “Relax.” The first teen slapped Nick on the back, nearly knocking him over. “I’m just messing with you, kid. We don’t eat dogs. That’s sick.”

  The gang left, and some of her tension left with them, though the constant stress had given her a sore neck. She wanted to lean back in her chair, but the blaster slung over her shoulder prevented her from leaning back.

  “Would you like something to drink while you wait?” the receptionist asked.

  “No, thank you,” Sara replied without asking the kids. She believed that most people were kind, but after working for Gabriel Sloan, she’d never take unpackaged food or drink from a stranger again. Sloan had drugged at least four different people during the month she’d worked in his office, and she never saw any of those people again.

  Her hands were sweaty, but she didn’t let go of Nick or Romy. They waited there, Champ lying across Nick’s feet, while soft music played in the background.

  The receptionist returned to her computer and didn’t look up again. The woman sat upright, showcasing her womanly curves under the paisley, form-fitting dress she wore. Her long hair was pulled back in a complicated low ponytail, keeping the strands from her face while long ringlets flowed down her back.

  The door behind her opened, and Thor walked out with a smile, jingling coins in his hand.

  “Don’t spend all of it at once,” the receptionist advised.

  Thor tipped an invisible hat. “I’ll try not to, Lucinda.” He glanced at Sara and the kids. “See you around.” And he left.

  Lucinda looked to Sara. “Mr. Law will see you now.”

  The Swintons stood.

  “The children can wait out here,” Lucinda clarified.

  Sara stiffened. “No, they can’t.”

  The receptionist gave a warm smile, but it did nothing to calm Sara’s nerves. “Mr. Law just wants to talk to you about the drone. He has no desire to harm any Far Towner, especially children. Plus, he’s allergic to dogs. You have my word that your family will be right here, waiting for you.”

  Sara looked from the receptionist to Nick and Romy, and relented with trepidation. “I’ll be just inside that room,” she said. “If anything is wrong, anything at all, I want you to yell for me.”

  “We’ll be fine, Mom,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Romy echoed, and Sara couldn’t help but smile at her two brave nine-year-olds.

  “Okay. Stay put, and I’ll be right back.” She swallowed back her unease and entered the office. She was surprised the receptionist didn’t mention the blaster. Even with the weapon, apprehension chipped at her defenses when the door swooshed closed behind her.

  This office was done up in a similar style to the waiting room, with high-end wood and real light fixtures rather than simple can lights. The landscape paintings of old Earth looked like actual antique paintings. The desk was wood, and she wondered how much something like that cost. She’d only seen wood furniture twice in her life: the first time had been in a small museum in her tribe’s silo; the second time had been in Gabriel Sloan’s office.

  She forced her gaze away from taking in the rare things to watch the man as she took slow steps toward him. He rose from his desk to meet her halfway. He appeared to be about her age, though he was taller and much heavier boned. His short brown hair and beard were much lighter in color than her straight black hair. His beard had white in the front, like he’d spilt milk while drinking. While his eyes bored into hers, his stance seemed casual, almost standoffish. He was an average man in almost every way, except for his eyes, which had an intelligent gleam to them. He stopped three feet from her and put his hands on his hips.

  “Well, you certainly aren’t Grundy Campo,” he said in a smooth, deadpan voice.

  Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “And you’re not blind.”

  He studied her with interest. “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing at Grundy Campo’s place?”

  “I do mind, actually.”

  He held up a hand. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal business. It’s just that I’m concerned about Grundy because I haven’t seen him around for quite some time. It makes me wonder if someone didn’t kill him and take over his place.”

  Her jaw slackened. “You think I killed Grundy?” She shook her head. “He’s a dear friend, a very dear friend. He offered for my kids and me to stay there for the time being.”

  His brows rose. “You’re friends with that crochety old fellow?”

  She lifted her chin. “Grundy is the kindest, most generous man you’ll ever meet.” She shrugged. “After you get past the prickly exterior, of course.”

&nb
sp; He watched her for an interminably long second before a half-smile formed. “I believe you. My name’s Arthur Law, but please, call me Artie.”

  He held out a hand, and she tentatively shook it. “My name’s Sara Swinton.”

  “Hello, Sara. How about you have a seat so we can talk about that drone?”

  “If it’s fine by you, I prefer to stand,” she said.

  “Have it your way.” He returned to his desk, but rather than taking a seat, he leaned on the edge. “Let me tell you a little about myself first. I’ve lived in Far Town since before it was called Far Town. At that time, it was just another neighborhood in this great, growing town of Cavil. But a few neighborhoods took a beating during the Revolution—strafing runs and all that—and Far Town was hit harder than most.”

  “I know. I’m from Cavil myself,” she said.

  “Oh good. So then you know that the MRC decided it was cheaper to build new neighborhoods than to fix up the old ones, so Far Town was basically left to rot. Those of us who lived here came together and did what we could to keep Far Town going. It might not be the prettiest neighborhood, but it has one thing that most other neighborhoods don’t have.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked.

  “Minimal government oversight. In fact, that’s how we earned the name Far Town, because the government tends to keep as far away from here as they can.”

  “I always heard it was named that as a warning for everyone to keep far away.”

  He cocked his head. “I suppose it’s whichever story you prefer.”

  Sara frowned. “What’s with the history lesson? That can’t be the reason you had your teenage thugs drag family and me here.”

  His brow furrowed. “Thugs? Is that what you think they are? First of all, they’re just kids without parents, trying to get by. I help them when I can. Second of all, they were asked to escort you here as my guests. If any of them raised a hand to your or your children, I want you to tell me.”

  She suddenly felt shame at how she’d judged them. “No. They didn’t hurt us. In fact, they probably saved my children’s lives.”

  “By shooting down that drone.” He nodded. “Yes, drones are armored against your typical blaster—like the one you’re carrying—but there are so few projectile weapons used nowadays that most armor is built to deflect photon beams instead of lead slugs.”

  “That’s good to know,” she said.

  “Do you expect another drone anytime soon?”

  She gulped. “No. I hope not.”

  “You sound like you’re not a fan of drones. Good, because I sure don’t like them flying around my town. Tell me, Sara Swinton, why would a Zenith drone target you?”

  She considered how to answer his question. She was naturally an honest person. Joe said she was too trusting, but her greatest regrets in life had nothing to do with trusting someone too much. In fact, it was the opposite. Sure, it was inevitable that a few people would break the bond of trust, but she’d found that most were worthy of the gift.

  She said, “The drone wasn’t after me. It was after my children, Nick and Romy.”

  He cocked his head. “Well, that’s even more strange. Zenith has always been a heartless, soulless beast, but it’s never gone after children before. That’s a new low, even for them.”

  She unslung the blaster and took a seat at one of the two chairs before Artie’s desk, setting the weapon on the floor. He took the chair next to hers.

  “The kids were playing one day and walked in on a conversation they shouldn’t have—and saw someone they weren’t supposed to see. Clearwater’s sheriff sent us to a hideout to protect us, but Grundy was worried we weren’t safe there, so he told us to stay in his house. But obviously, Zenith found us here.”

  “Zenith has a lot of fancy gadgets. They’re pretty good at finding someone when they want to,” Artie said, then asked, “Clearwater? That’s where you were when the kids saw whomever they weren’t supposed to have seen?”

  She nodded. “We were there, hiding from the MRC.”

  He belted out a deep laugh. “You’re telling me that you’ve managed to make enemies with the MRC and Zenith?”

  “We’re just lucky, I guess.”

  “I think that makes you incredibly unlucky. You’re the type of person I’d like to play poker with.”

  “I’ve never played poker before.”

  He grinned. “Even better.” After a moment, he leaned forward. “If the MRC and Zenith don’t like you, well, that makes you pretty darn likable in my book. I’ll tell you what. I have a few safe places spread out here and there, around Far Town, places that are off the grid so you won’t have to worry about a drone sneaking up on you. How about I set you and your family up in one of them for the time being?”

  She bristled. This was the part she hated. Nothing in the wastelands was free, and whoever was making the offer was very likely asking for something worth twice as much. “And what do you want for this?” she asked coldly.

  “Relax. I’m not asking for indentured contracts or anything like that. I’m a businessman, not a slaver. I just want you to tell me everything you know about Zenith. Regular folks don’t even think Zenith still exists, but you and I both know better. The way I see it, the more I know about what’s going on out there, the better I can take care of my own interests—and those include Far Town.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I know, but it’s not much.”

  He held out a hand. “Deal.”

  They shook, and Sara told Artie about the silo and what the children had told her they’d seen. When she finished, he picked up her blaster, stood, and handed it to her when she rose.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You told me a lot, and it gives me a lot to think about. Now, I need to hold up my end of the bargain. Let’s go get your children and get you all settled in a safe house now, shall we?”

  She nodded, feeling like a weight had melted off her shoulders. Did she trust Artie? Not exactly, but she didn’t distrust him. Her gut instincts—which she always followed—told her Artie’s intent was to protect her. He made her feel safe—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time—and she liked it.

  He led her to the waiting room, where she found Nick and Romy eating from a bowl of brightly colored candies while Champ sat at attention nearby, begging.

  Artie crouched to be eye-level with the children. “And who do we have here? Wait, let me guess. You must be Nick.” He pointed to Romy, and she giggled. Then he pointed to Nick. “And you must be Romy.”

  “No, silly. Romy’s a girl’s name. I’m Nick. That’s Romy,” her son said, and pointed at his sister.

  Artie smiled and stood. Champ sniffed at him. Artie sneezed and took a step back.

  “Sorry,” Sara said, and pushed the dog toward Nick.

  “No”—he sneezed—“problem. I like dogs, but my nose hates them.”

  Lucinda handed him a handkerchief, and he blew his nose rather loudly. Finished, he tucked the white cotton into his pocket and turned to the receptionist. “Is Room Thirteen open?” he asked.

  She pulled out a notebook and opened it to a page near the middle. “It is. Shall I reserve it?”

  He nodded. “Sara and her family will be staying there indefinitely. All room expenses and room service are to go on my tab.”

  “Yes, Mr. Law,” Lucinda said.

  “Excellent. Oh, and send Thor to Mr. Campo’s house for the Swintons’ things.” He turned to Sara. “Room Thirteen is here in the hotel which, you should know, happens to belong to me. When I first opened, I discovered that people didn’t like staying in a room numbered thirteen; they seemed to think thirteen is an unlucky number. So I took it off the register and use it for personal guests. Your names won’t appear on the hotel system. You’re free to enjoy the public spaces within the hotel. There are cameras installed, but they’re my cameras, not Zenith’s and not MRC’s. However, I’d advise you to stay in your rooms whenever possible. Even though you won’t be caught on v
ideo feeds, people talk, and most people will talk for the right price—especially the gamblers who frequent the casino.”

  Sara nodded. “I understand. We’ll stay in the room except when we need to walk Champ.”

  “I’ll send someone to handle that for you as well. Best to play it safe. No communications, no conversations, and no network surfing.”

  “Not even for games?” Nick asked.

  Artie laughed. “I may be able to find a tablet without net access for you. Now, how about I show you to your room?”

  He led them through the hotel and up a back staircase to Room Thirteen, which was on the ground floor adjacent an emergency exit. He unlocked the door for them and handed her his keycard. “If you need anything, call one-zero-one on your room phone. That’ll patch you through directly to Lucinda. Otherwise, order room service for your meals, and I’ll check in when I can.”

  “Thank you,” Sara said, and he left.

  She sat on one of the two double beds while the kids and dog raced around the room, checking everything out. She didn’t feel as safe as in the silo, but she felt safer than she’d been at the old hideout, and even safer than at Grundy’s place. She would’ve preferred to be underground. Silo-born, she would always feel safest underground. At least the room didn’t have a window, which meant that any attack would have to come through the door, like had happened at Grundy’s. It was also the only escape route, but she tried not to think about that.

  She wanted to call Joe, to tell him they were safe and where they were, but she understood why Artie had told her not to use the communications. She’d tried to call him from Grundy’s house, but his armlet had been offline. Perhaps that was how Zenith had tracked her. No, she couldn’t risk calling Joe—he would understand. Besides, Grundy surely told Val, who would tell Joe, so he wouldn’t worry about her and the kids.

  That’d always been Joe’s greatest weakness—he worried too much for others.

  “Mom, there’s a bathtub in here,” Romy exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve never taken a bath before. Can you show me how it works?”