Return fire came from different spots west along the tree line, a half dozen of them at least.
Where had they come from? The bus entry, I guessed.
Papa Brisé and his men peeled off some rounds, which peppered the palms but only caused the attack on us to intensify.
“We have to get to the Interchange or we’re dead,” said Sixkiller as he crawled alongside me. “And then there’s that,” he said, looking up.
I followed his upward glance. The sun had burst over the horizon, and the daylight revealed a swooping figure that spiked my adrenalin even higher. The crow from the station house.
“It’s coming for us,” I said.
“And so are they,” he said.
A cloud of movement lifted from the palm trees, and a murder of smaller crows streamed in our direction.
My throat closed over and my guts liquefied.
I just kept firing at the trees and watching the birds approach.
“Virgin,” said Sixkiller. “Something you should know…”
Not now, Nate.
“I’m–”
But I never heard him, or he didn’t say it.
Another ear-splitting squeal from Aquila drew my attention back to the sky. She was flying straight at the giant Mythos.
No. NO!
A moment later, she crashed violently into its side, knocking it off its trajectory toward us. The impact sent her plummeting to the ground in a shriek of pain. The Mythos fell away too, descending with more control but slowly, like it was injured.
I started to get up, but the Marshal hauled me down again. “You can’t help her.”
He rolled on top of me then, pressing me down into the dirt as the crows swarmed us.
“Get off!” I shouted, fighting to get out from under him.
But he clamped his hands on my shoulders even harder. “Stay still,” he hissed. “They won’t hurt me as much.”
I lay rigid and helpless as he writhed under the assault of their beaks and claws. Aquila was on the ground a short distance away, lifeless. The Mythos had landed not far from her, fluttering but able to fly, as though its wing was damaged.
“Fuckeen go!” I heard Papa Brisé shout.
Where? I tried to raise my head a fraction.
Papa Brisé was up and running toward the gap in the palm trees, carrying Kadee Matari over his shoulder. His men scrambled after him, two of them carrying the third between them. When they didn’t fall before a hail of bullets, I realized that the gunfire had changed direction.
I scanned both ways and spotted Hamish farther west but in a line with us, causing a heavily armed distraction from behind some kind of inflatable, projectile-proof barrier.
“Nate! We have to go now! Look!”
“Can’t,” he groaned.
He began to spasm from the buffeting, and he rolled off me a little, leaving my right arm exposed.
The crows pecked and tore at it, and I snatched it back underneath my body and whistled for Benny.
“Vir… gin…” Sixkiller whispered.
His blood was all over me, my neck, my cheek. Slippery and pungent and warm.
“You said they wouldn’t hurt you badly,” I cried.
“Too… many… of… them,” he said.
Then his body went limp.
“Benny!” I roared. “Come!”
She galloped up, eyes wild.
I twisted and shoved Sixkiller off me. Then I grabbed his arm. “Get up! Get up!”
The crows swarmed me and I batted and slammed at them while trying to get him up into the saddle.
My eyes blurred over with blood that might have been his or mine. Deep, knifelike stabs pierced my body, and I began to feel weak. I formed a picture of Sixkiller’s disincarnate in my mind.
Ohitika! Help him! Please!
An enraged bellow rang in my ears. Thundering hooves shook the ground.
The stinging stabs and slicing claws stopped abruptly as, in one cawing unison, the crows left us and converged on the shaggy bison charging our way.
“Now!” I said, pushing. “Get up!”
He flopped awkwardly across the saddle, and I grabbed the pommel to help me mount, but I didn’t have the strength.
Instead, I leaned on her neck and whispered, “Home” in her ears.
She snorted and half reared but took off when I slapped her rump.
I managed to stay standing long enough to watch her make it through the gap. Then everything seemed to fade.
A dim awareness stayed with me, the kind you have when you’re just waking or just falling asleep.
The gunfire seemed to reach a crescendo and then a lull.
A voice penetrated my haze. “Fuck, what happened to you?”
I blinked a few times and concentrated hard. Hamish’s face snapped into focus.
“I… In the–”
“Save it!” he said. “Take this.”
He pushed something under my tongue, and instant life poured into my veins. I sat up and looked around. We were still behind the pump house. The gunfire had stopped, and I heard shouts in the distance.
“Can you ride?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t know. If I have to.”
“Good girl.”
He helped me to my feet. Daylight had arrived properly, and beyond the windmill, near the gap in the palm trees, I saw a bunch of figures in vests holding weapons.
“Who are they?” I whispered.
“Feds,” he said. “Someone made a call.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but it was timely. I couldn’t have held them off much longer. You must have someone watching over you.”
“How did you… Where did you… that shield…?”Questions piled up on my tongue and got stuck.
“Another time,” he said. “You’re a mess. I’m going to put you up on this nag and send you in their direction. It’s safe enough now they’ve taken your ambushers into custody.”
“But you–”
“I’m heading elsewhere. Been interesting knowing you, Ranger. Go get patched up.”
With that, he gave me a leg up onto the back of a horse that pranced and gave a small buck, nearly unseating me straight away.
Vol! “Where did you find him?”
“He found me. Even the wild ones come home in the end,” said Hamish with a meaningful wink. He put three fingers to his forehead in a brief salute and let go of the bridle.
The horse didn’t wait for my signal; he just leapt straight ahead toward the Interchange. I managed one glance back over my shoulder and saw Hamish on the mare, heading out into the park again.
Where he was going, I had no idea, but Hamish could look after himself. The park was still likely in breach. If there was a way out that he wouldn’t be seen, he’d find it. Or maybe he’d lay low until things had settled. No doubt his kit bag contained survival food as well.
I looked ahead and concentrated on staying on Sombre Vol as she galloped towards the palms.
Armed men challenged us from all directions as we reached the gap, but the horse wasn’t stopping. It charged right on up to the water trough with me clinging to the pommel and his mane.
When he stopped and sank his nose into the water, I slipped to the ground, legs trembling.
The point of a rifle pressed into my neck. I looked up and saw a ring of Feds around me in bulky, dark uniforms and combat helmets.
One of them hauled me upright and stripped me of my knife and my empty pistol.
“Throw her in with the rest,” ordered the guy with the gun against my flesh.
The way parted for us and I saw some vehicles. One was a distance away, over toward the tourist entry – it was the air-bus that had been at Los Tribos. Two others were parked closer to the Interchange door: a medics’ van with Benny standing hoof up right next to it, and the other a large military paddy wagon full of the illegal immigrant detainees.
That’s where we seemed to be headed. I was about to be put in a tiny space with t
he people who’d been trying to kill me.
“No!” I shouted. “Let go me. I’m the Park ranger!”
Their grip tightened as I started to wriggle, and I panicked. I kicked one of them high and hard in the stomach and ripped my arm from his fingers. I swung my fist at the other one and connected with his visor. My fingers cracked, sending an electrifying pain up my arm.
As I recoiled, the visor guard grabbed me by both shoulders, and the guy I’d kicked came back at me with a stomach punch that sent me doubling over.
The taste of something hot washed the back of my throat and I threw up on both of them.
“Crap. Toss her in the bin!” one said to the other.
But as they thrust me towards the paddy wagon, someone behind us yelled, “Stop!”
They both snapped to attention, their grips loosening.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Let her go.”The voice was firm and commanding and shockingly familiar.
They did as he bid and I fell in a heap and lay there, grateful just to be still. My fingers throbbed and my skin felt like a war zone.
“Ranger?” said the same voice – this time softer and closer.
I lifted my face, aware that I was coated in blood and vomit.
The man who knelt in front of me wore civvies – jeans and shirt – but a badge hung around his neck, and he had a pistol holstered on his waist. Sweat stood out on his forehead, which I found odd, because I was feeling so cold.
“For chrissakes,” I whispered with feeling. “Heart?”
THIRTY
My lover – the Federal agent – helped me up.
“You’re–”
“Undercover,” he said. “Now walk.”
With his help, I limped slowly to the medics’ van. It took a painstaking effort to reach the open door and the waiting medic who helped me onto a stretcher. The bed’s pneumatics hissed and it lifted and slid in alongside another body. Sixkiller.
“Take care of her,” said Heart. “I’ll be back soon.”
The door shut on us and I turned my head. The Marshal was a mess of bloody cuts, and his clothes hung from him in strips. He appeared to be asleep.
“Is he alright?” I asked.
“Sedated,” said the medic as she hooked me up to a drip. “What happened to you two? Looks like someone shoved you in a shredder.”
“Knife attacks. There were a… lot of them.”
“Strange-shaped knives,” she commented as she peeled away my shirt.
“Strange people,” I said. “Foreigners.”
It was the best I could come up with.
She sprayed my skin first with antiseptic and anaesthetic, then pasted some glue on the deeper cuts. Then she put an inflatable glove on my hand to support my cracked fingers.
I watched the drip flowing into my veins while she worked and felt the cold sensation at the entry point on my wrist. The bleeding eased with her attentions and, probably, thanks to me still being full of Sixkiller’s blood. I wondered if my transfusion had left him vulnerable in this attack.
“You’ll live. But the scarring might be bad and the hand will hurt for a while,” she said as she produced a patient’s tunic. “You sure it was a knife that cut you? It looks more like… I don’t know, but the cuts are jagged. Little rips.”
“Maybe the knives were serrated?”
“So many of them. Like torture.”
“That’s how it felt.”I grimaced as I slipped my arms through the sleeves. Though the anaesthetic had dulled the pain to bearable when I was still, when I moved, it was a whole different matter.
There was a knock on the door.
“That’ll be the agent,” she said. “I’ll be outside checking the horse.”
“Her name is Benny. And thanks.”
She smiled and climbed out, leaving Heart to take her spot.
He pulled the door closed again for privacy.
“He sedated?” he asked of Sixkiller.
“Yeah. But she thinks he’ll be fine.” The medic had wiped my face clean of vomit and blood, but I could smell it all over me.
Unexpectedly, Heart leaned forward and kissed me.
“Well, shit,” I said as he drew back. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
His expression turned sheepish. “And you don’t?”
“Feds first,” I said.
He flushed. “I’ve been undercover for a few years. I can’t disclose the details of the case, but more recently, it involved you.”
“So you’ve been sleeping with me as part of your job?” I wasn’t angry as much as stunned.
He hesitated. “I won’t insult you by saying that it started out that way and I fell in love. But the truth is that… I really do like you, Virgin, and it seemed… useful.”
“Useful?” I exclaimed. “Jeez, flatter a girl to death, why don’t you, you ignorant arse?”
Now I was angry.
He seemed to take the insult in stride. If I’d been in decent shape, I would probably have punched him in the teeth.
“We’re going to need to interview you properly as soon as you’re recovered. We found some saddled horses running free. Were there other people with you out there? What happened?” he asked.
I stared blankly at him, not prepared to give up a damn thing to a Fed. “Just me. I got a lead that the park’s Canopy had been compromised after the Marshal was kidnapped, so I came to check it out.”
“By yourself?”
“That’s my style.”
“I suppose it is,” he said thoughtfully.
“I brought an extra horse for Nate.”
“And?”
“Saw a flash-bang over at a place called Los Tribos. Went to look and saw a gyro landing there and offloading a bunch of people. It got messy; I got the Marshal out while they were arguing amongst themselves. By the time we made it back here, we rode into an ambush.”
“Sounds like you’re making it up as you go, Virgin.”
“The story… no... My life… yeah, pretty much.”
That answer irritated him. “Who tipped you off?”
“Tell me who told you to come looking for me here and I’ll tell you my source.”
He vacillated a moment, then said, “Totes had put a recorder in the eyes of the Virgin doll.”
“Totes works for you?”
“Let’s just say he’s on loan.”
“I’ll give him fucking lo–”
The door flung open right then and Detective Indira Chance stood before us in the opening, hands on hips. She was flanked by two officers; both had their service pistols drawn.
“Virgin Jackson, you’re under arrest for the murder of–”
“But–” I started to say.
“She’s under our jurisdiction,” interceded Heart holding his badge out. “You can’t arrest her. Federal takes precedence.”
“Not over a murder charge, Agent. Now please get out of our way.”
“But–” I started again.
“Stand down, Detective!” said Heart. He got out and stood next to her, his expression bullish as hers. “We’ll clear this up with you through the correct channels, but the Ranger is mine.”
“You could be wrong there, Agent,” said another voice from behind them both.
Bull Hunt shouldered his way past Chance’s coppers to stand between Heart and her.
He showed both of them a card. “Call your superiors now and authenticate it.”
Heart swore softly and Detective Chance looked plain pissed. The pair of them turned away from Bull to make their calls. Heart had an earpiece in, but Chance had to pull out her phone and dial up.
Bull took the opportunity to look me up and down. “Blazing bluebells, Virgin. You been chewed up and spat out by a piranha?”
“Not so much as him,” I said, inclining my head toward the sedated Marshal.
Bull stared at Sixkiller, speechless for a moment.
“He saved me from a… knife attack. But he’ll be
OK,” I said.
“He’d better be or so help me, I’ll–”
Chance hung up and turned back to us with a hard look. “I’m leaving your case file open, Ranger. I’ll get you for this one way or the other.”With that, she jerked her head for her constables to follow her, and she strode away.
That left Heart. His expression when he faced us was deeply troubled. “I’ll be seeing you, Virgin.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
He looked at Bull. “Please watch out for her, sir.”
Hunt grunted. “Virgin can look after herself.”
I stared at Bull in amazement.
Heart hesitated, then walked away from us.
“I never liked him,” said Bull.
“You never met him before. Did you have him checked out like you said you would?”
“Still waiting for the report to land in my inbox.”
“Well,” I said. “You can probably delete it now.”
Bull laughed.
I watched Heart disappear into a group of police, and a few moments later, he was obscured by the air-bus passing us with an armed escort.
I thought for a second that I saw Hamish on board, but then it was gone, and I figured I was wrong.
My boss held out his hand. “Can you walk?”
“Slowly,” I said.
“It’s not too far.”
“What isn’t?” I asked.
“This.” He helped me down and we walked around the side of the van past Benny, who whinnied and nuzzled my hand.
I kissed her cheek and followed Bull to the rear, where a military-grade tip-jet sat, giving off a low humming sound.
“What the hell is that? Sounds like it’s going to explode,” I asked.
“Protection field,” he explained. “Wait.”
We stood there as a battle-ready soldier approached us. He stopped a few arm’s-lengths away and spoke into a pickup on the side of his helmet. The humming stopped and he beckoned us forward.
As soon as we’d stepped over the invisible threshold, the humming started up again. I felt my body hair stand on end.
“Bull! Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
He offered me his arm to climb onto the tip-jet’s skid and into the open doorway. “Actually, Virgin, I’m not coming. And I just want you to know… I would have told you before, but I promised him.”
Peacemaker Page 25
