by Tripp Ellis
Logan helped her up and sat her on the edge of the bed. “ “Do you think you can walk out of here?”
“Maybe,” she slurred. She had the motor control of a drunk.
“You’re not going to be able to just walk her out of the front door,” Silas said.
“I know. That’s why we need your close.”
“What?” Silas’s face twisted up. “Oh, no. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“It’s the only way I’m going to be able to get her out of here.”
“What about me? It’s the only way I got in.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
“I want an extra 10,000 credits.”
Logan scowled at him. “Okay. Fine.” He pulled out his mobile and transfered the money.
Silas stripped out of his clothes. Logan helped Slade out of her dress and into the gunslinger outfit. He stuffed her arms awkwardly into the sleeves and pants legs. Then he pulled her hair up into a bun and set the hat on her head, the brim low on her brow.
Logan slung Slade’s arm around his shoulder and helped her stand. The clothes were too big for her. The shoulders too broad, the pants too baggy. But at a quick glance, she might pass for a man. If anybody looked too carefully, the gig would be up.
“What the hell am I supposed to wear out of here?” Silas asked.
Logan glanced to Slade’s black cocktail dress on the floor.
“You have got to be kidding me?”
“A little makeup, and you’ll look just like a woman.”
“Fuck you.”
Logan helped Slade to the door. She fumbled along, barely able to stand. They slipped into the hallway and headed toward the stairwell. Slade shuffled along, hardly able to pick her feet up. The stairs were precarious. With one arm around Logan’s shoulder, and the other grasping the rail, they managed to reach the bottom without tumbling down. Though, there were a few close calls along the way.
The music pumped and the lights danced across the club. A fog machine had just gone off, creating a nice thick haze. It was the perfect opportunity to try and make it to the exit.
“Stand up and walk straight.”
“I’m trying,” Slade slurred. Her speech was as bad as her stride.
“It’s now, or never. Let’s go.” The two strolled across the club. Slade was clinging on for dear life, trying not to tumble over her own steps. She looked like a baby animal taking her first steps.
Mia and Gorth were three sheets to the wind, taking full advantage of the free liquor. Gorth caught sight of Logan as he crossed the room. “Didn’t he go upstairs with a woman?”
Mia squinted. “Yeah.”
“What happened? Did he switch teams?”
“Whatever floats your boat?”
Logan nodded his head, motioning for Gorth to meet him at the door.
“Looks like we’re on the move,” Gorth said. He and Mia tried to stand, and that’s when the liquor really kicked in. They almost looked as bad as Slade crossing the room.
Logan was almost to the exit with Slade when Little Nicky called out to him. “Leaving so soon?”
Logan clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath. He forced a smile and looked back over his shoulder at Nicky. “Yeah. It’s getting past my bedtime. I turn into a pumpkin soon.”
“How was the girl? Is she worth the money I paid?”
“And then some.” Logan started for the door. The bouncer was now standing between him and the doorway.
“Who’s your friend?” Nicky asked.
Logan stopped. “He just had a little too much to drink.” Logan started for the door again.
“It would be bad for business if someone died of alcohol poisoning on my premises.”
“He’s fine.”
“If he can walk on his own, I’ll let him leave. If he can’t, I’m calling him some medical assistance.”
Slade kept her head down and removed her arm from around Logan’s shoulder. She swayed, but stood on her own. Logan watched with baited breath.
“Take a few steps, sir,” Nicky said.
Slade teetered as she stepped forward. But she kept upright, for the most part. Her other leg shuffled forward, and she completed another step. But her third step wasn’t so successful. She tripped and crumpled to the ground. The hat flew off, and her hair flung down.
Nicky scowled as he recognized her. He reached for his gun, but Logan beat him to the punch.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Logan blasted off several rounds. Blood splattered from Nicky’s chest. The impact sent him tumbling back, crashing onto a table. Glasses broke and drinks splashed. Patrons screeched in terror.
The bouncer pulled his gun from inside his coat. His finger wrapped around the trigger and he was about to blast a hole in the back of Logan’s head. Gorth took the Bouncer out with a hail of gunfire before he had the chance.
Logan swiped Slade from the floor, and the gang hustled out of the club. They dashed across the sidewalk and hopped into a cab, speeding away into the night.
They had just killed the son of one of the most powerful mob bosses in Europa City. Big Nick wasn’t going to let this slide. He was going to track them down and kill them all. But only after he had tortured them mercilessly first.
40
WALKER
“As soon as you put a load on this, it’s going to short out,” Malik said.”
There was a bullet lodged in the fuel-cell.
“It’s practically useless,” he continued. “We’ve come all this way for nothing.” He slammed the fuel-cell down. It clattered against the deck.
“Are you sure it can’t be fixed?” Walker asked.
Malik shook his head.
The sound of rain pattered off the hull. Walker, Malik, and Bailey all sat with glum faces.
“Why didn’t you people design these systems with backup power supplies?” Walker asked.
“Saarkturians don’t believe in failure. There is no need for contingency plans, or redundant systems. It is the will of God that we are on this planet. And if God wills it, we shall leave.”
The Saarkturians were waging war against the humans to expel them from the Holy Land. Walker didn’t put a lot of faith in the willingness of the Saarkturian God to get him off the planet.
“I guess it was your God’s will that you lost the first war?” Walker couldn’t resist egging Malik on.
Malik scowled at him. “The first war was a lesson. Perhaps it is His will that we win the second.”
“We shall see.”
Malik reconnected the fuel-cell so they’d have power to heat the ship during the night. It was capable of powering such a small load. Walker was lucky the cell hadn’t exploded when it was first hit during his escape from the SSC Xenvelor.
Walker pulled out his flashlight and shined it in the compartment to help Malik see what he was doing. At first Malik grimaced at the bright light. “I’m Saarkturian. I don’t need a flashlight to see in dim light.”
He was annoyed, but then it dawned on him… Walker had a flashlight. It was powered with the same type of fuel-cell, only smaller. “You’ve had a flashlight this entire time, and said nothing?”
Walker shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”
“Fool. That fuel-cell has enough power to launch the ship.”
Walker scoffed, incredulous. “This flashlight can power your gunship?”
“It can power that flashlight indefinitely, or it can give us enough juice to escape the planet’s gravitational field and, perhaps, make a few slide-space jumps. The core is smaller, but the output is the same—it’s just attenuated down for the flashlight.”
“So, you can wire this thing up to work?”
“Yes, provided we can make it back alive.”
Walker was elated and tormented, all at once. Gavin had died needlessly. “We’ll stay here till the rain stops.”
“What if it doesn’t stop?”
“It will. It has to.” But Walker wasn’t sure it
would stop raining before they ran out of food.
Walker kept a lookout through the slashes in the hull. The angry sky grew even darker as the invisible sun dipped down. The heat of the day dissipated. The surly creatures disappeared into their muddy and wet burrows. As the temperature cooled, the bugs went into hibernation.
Night fell, and the sweltering heat turned to freezing cold. The torrential rain turned into a blizzard.
“Take your pick,” Walker said. “The bugs, or the cold?”
“The cold,” Malik said.
“If we set out now, we’ll likely freeze to death during the night. In the day we have no chance against those things.”
“I can rig a portable heater with the ship’s fuel-cell and some wire,” Malik said.
He pulled some wiring and stripped the coating. Then coiled it around a plank and attached the wires to the fuel-cell. The low conductivity wire provided resistance for the current, which created heat. It took him about fifteen minutes to rig up. Within minutes, the coils glowed, radiating warmth.
“This will keep us from freezing,” Malik said. “We’ll run and take breaks to warm up. We just can’t run it for too long. It could overload the cell and explode.”
Walker was impressed. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
Malik grinned. It was a rare smile from the stern Saarkturian.
Walker grabbed his gear and let Bailey take his usual position in the backpack. He wrapped his head to protect himself from the cold. Only his eyes were exposed. He opened the hatch and was hit with a rush of crisp cold air. He stepped out into the frozen wasteland. Snow packed and crunched under his feet. At least those damn bugs were frozen, he thought.
They marched into the wintery wasteland. It didn’t take long for Walker to feel frozen himself. The sub-zero wind was penetrating. Within minutes, his core temperature dropped. His feet and hands went numb. He held out for as long as he could, but he had to stop. “Let’s fire up that heater for a minute.”
Walker, Bailey, and Malik huddled around the glowing coils. The warmth felt great. It was almost worth getting cold, just so you could feel good from the warmth of the makeshift heater.
The snow melted, and the ground underneath the heater turned to mush. Malik would have to wait until the coils were cool to the touch before they could take off running again. By that time, they were practically frozen again. At this rate, it was going to take them all night to reach the canyon.
By 3am, they were exhausted, and they weren’t even halfway there. They took a break to warm up. Malik set up the heater again, and within minutes they were bathed in warmth. Walker took some jerky from his pack and warmed it by the coils. He broke off a piece for Bailey, and he gobbled it down.
Walker leaned back against his pack and rested for a moment. But he made the mistake of closing his eyes, and he dozed off.
He was awoken sometime later by Bailey’s incessant barking.
Walker didn’t know how long he had slept. He peeled one eye open and saw that Malik was asleep. The heater was raging. It was almost too hot. Walker felt like he had been roasted over a fire. The glowing coils had melted a large area of snow.
Walker lay amidst the thick mud. “What’s the matter, boy?”
It didn’t take long to get an answer. As Walker wiped the sleep from his eyes, he saw an angry pincer claw stabbing down at him. The heat had brought several creatures out of hibernation.
Walker felt the sharp pincers pierce his flesh as the claw latched on to his thigh. The venom stung as it flowed through his veins. He grabbed his weapon and opened fire on the beast.
Muzzle flash lit up the night.
The creature recoiled as Walker pummeled it with gunfire. Soon, its head exploded, and its massive body crumpled into the slush. Blood oozed from its wounds.
Malik grabbed his weapon and blasted away at the other creatures.
Walker’s body grew numb. He couldn’t feel his legs. The venom spread through his body and soon he was paralyzed.
Bailey hovered over him with sad, worried eyes.
Malik destroyed the rest of the creatures in a hail of bullets. Then he cut off the heater and waited for it to cool. He ran to Walker and knelt down beside him. “Can you walk?”
Walker shook his head. “I can barely move my hands.” He choked the words out, hardly able to speak. He tried to grip his hands, but they only twitched slightly. He had taken a heavy dose of venom.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Malik said. He rummaged through the pack and took the flashlight. Then he packed up the heater and ran off into the night.
Walker clenched his jaw. He tried to curse at Malik as he ran away, but he could hardly make a sound. Never trust a Saarkturian, he thought.
Bailey barked and chased after Malik, but soon returned to stay by Walker’s side. The two of them would surely die during the night from the cold. If by some miracle they survived until the morning, the swarm of arthropods would surely get them.
41
SADE
“Drive faster!” Logan yelled.
The automated cab responded. “I’m sorry. I cannot exceed the maximum legal speed limit.”
Logan craned his neck and looked through the rear window. A black hover-car fell in line behind them. It was a Vanguard SX7—a luxury sports sedan that was THE car to own. You could drive it manually, or it would drive itself. Every pop star and gangster worth their salt had one. This had to be one of Little Nicky’s crew, or worse, someone working for Big Nick himself.
A machine gun emerged from the passenger side window. Muzzle flash erupted. A flurry of bullets pierced the air, smacking against the rear window of the cab.
The tempered glass webbed and cracked. Broken shards sprayed about the cab. Everyone ducked for cover.
“Please do not damage the vehicle,” the automated voice said. “Your account will be debited in the final amount of the repair costs.”
Logan and the others drew their weapons and began firing back at the black car.
“Somebody give me a gun,” Slade yelled.
Logan pulled a backup from his ankle holster and handed it to her.
The sound of gunfire was deafening in the confined space of the cab. The air filled with the sharp smell of gunpowder. Searing hot shell casings sprang from ejection ports, bouncing onto the seats and rolling onto the floor.
The two vehicles exchanged a volley of gunfire. Soon the windshield of the black car was peppered with bullet holes and webbed with cracks.
The Vanguard weaved through traffic and quickly caught up with the cab. It pulled alongside, and the passenger peppered the cab with bullets. Glass shattered. A hailstorm of gunfire ripped through the vehicle. The metallic thud of the bullets impacted the door panel in a staccato rhythm. But the bullets weren’t piercing the composite material of the door panels.
“Drive faster!” Logan shouted over the gunfire. He hunkered down, taking cover behind the door.
“I’m sorry. I cannot exceed the maximum legal speed limit,” the automated voice said again.
“This is a medical emergency.”
“Okay. You said medical emergency, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I am permitted to exceed legal speed limits in instances where an occupant needs medical attention. Would you like me to reroute to the nearest hospital?”
“No. Continue to the space port.”
“Patients typically have better outcomes seeking immediate medical attention at a healthcare facility. Are you sure you don’t want me to reroute?”
“No! The space port.”
Logan reached up and fired over the windowsill. The barrel locked out, and he pressed the magazine release. The magazine dropped out, and he smacked in his last magazine. He chambered a round and resumed firing.
The Vanguard rammed into the cab.
Metal crumpled. More glass shattered. The cab rocked, then took evasive action.
“Encountering overly aggressive drivers,” the voice
said. “It seems we have been involved in an accident.”
“Do not stop,” Logan yelled. “Keep going.”
The two cars weaved in and out of traffic, racing down Hawthorne Ave. Logan, Mia, Slade, and Gorth took turns firing and reloading. The Vanguard slammed into them again.
“It seems we have been involved in another accident,” the voice said.
“No shit,” Logan said.
“I’ve determined this driver to be hostile.”
Logan rolled his eyes and kept blasting at the Vanguard until his magazine was empty. “I’m out.”
Everyone was almost out of ammo. The Vanguard kept ramming into the side of the cab. It was like a demolition derby on one of the busiest streets in Europa City.
Slade waited for the brief pause in the gunfire that came when the gangsters needed to reload. She popped up over the windowsill and took aim.
The machine gunner in the Vanguard popped in another magazine. He was lifting the weapon, ready to blast. Slade had a clear shot. But the cab was anything but steady. It bobbed and rolled, speeding through the heavy traffic. Slade held her arms firm, but still, they wobbled. She tried to time the bounces just right—then she squeezed the trigger.
The bullet launched from the barrel in a plume of smoke and muzzle flash. It was her last shot. The weapon locked out. The bullet tore through the air, penetrating the passenger’s left eye. Then it blasted out of the back of his skull. Brain and blood and bits of bone splattered on the leather seats, the windshield, and the driver.
The passenger slumped over and his weapon dropped out of the window, clattering across the pavement below.
But the bullet kept going.
The driver didn’t have any time to react. It drilled through his temple and lodged into his gray matter. He slumped forward against the steering controls, blood oozing from the hole in his temple. The car drifted across three lanes of traffic and slammed head-on into a massive shipping drone. It was the equivalent of an 18 wheeler Mack truck. The Vanguard shattered into a million tiny pieces. The truck seemed completely unharmed.
The cab sped away through the city. They all watched the wreckage vanish behind them as they raced away.
