Mechanic (Corrosive Knights)

by E. R. Torre

  Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the tall, gaunt man emerge from the shadows behind another boulder. The man carried a knife in his hand and thrust it forward.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Nox fell to the ground clutching her right side. The knife nicked her deep, just below her ribs. The pain shot through her like an electrical jolt, and a stream of blood fell on the already red sand.

  The lean man with the dull blue eyes didn’t pause. He jumped onto Nox. Though he was considerably older and his body was ravaged by the harsh desert life, there was an animalistic fury that exploded from within. He pressed forward with his right hand and brought the bloody blade within inches of Nox’s face. Moving on instinct, the Mechanic grabbed the older man’s wrist just before the knife found its mark.

  The lean man snarled. His left hand came up and sharp, dirty fingernails clawed at Nox’s face. Nox smacked the hand away and spun her body. With a grunt, the older man found their positions were reversed. He was on the sandy floor with Nox on top of him.

  “Give up,” Nox growled. “It’s over. No one else has to die.”

  The lean man said nothing. His lips curled into a hideous leer, revealing rotted teeth and foul breath.

  “Give up,” Nox repeated.

  The older man’s fury, only moments before so overwhelming, was now rapidly fading. Nox was younger, stronger, and had the advantage of her position.

  “Please,” she muttered.

  The older man let out an eerie, animalistic laugh. He pushed the blade forward with all his might, forcing Nox to push back. The blade nicked Nox’s sunglasses. The older man’s laugh died. He looked deep into Nox’s face and, just as suddenly, released his grip. Nox wasn’t expecting this.

  The Mechanic stared incredulously as the blade shot back, moving on momentum, and slid noiselessly into the older man’s chest. His pale blue eyes stared up at Nox and then the sky. A weary sigh exited his mouth and his body became still.

  “No,” Nox whispered. She released the blade and rolled away.

  The gaunt man was dead.

  “What a fucking waste,” Nox said. Though the man and his group tried their best to kill her, there was no need for this man to die.

  Despite everything, Nox felt pity for the desert rats. They were abandoned by civilization and lived off this brutal, barren land. As horrifying as their actions could be, they killed to survive.

  Nox got to her feet and brushed the sand from her body. Along with the gaunt man she had just killed, there were five other bodies surrounding the buried remains of the survey van. Five more corpses to add to the growing list.

  Nox removed her backpack. From within it, she retrieved a small white first aid case. She opened it and tended to the wound to her side, sealing it with antibiotic tape before packing everything back up. She returned to her chopper. It took a couple of tries before it sprang to life. When it did, Nox stared out into the distance. The desert rat vehicles were long gone. Even the plumes of smoke they left behind had settled.

  There was no movement at all. Nox wondered if they had captured their unknown sniper.

  She was determined to find out.

  It took a half hour to reach the base of the mesa. Had Nox chosen to, she could have taken a more direct route and made it there in only a few minutes. Instead, she chose a longer, more circuitous path which, she hoped, would keep any remaining desert rats from seeing her approach. There was no sense in tangling with them again.

  Nox approached a rocky outcrop. She shut her chopper down and pushed it into a shadowy crevasse, outside anyone’s view. If the desert rats were up on the mesa, then by now they had surely seen her. Hopefully, they couldn’t see her hide her chopper and wouldn’t know how she’d make it up to the mesa top.

  There was a worn path wide enough for vehicles that, Nox figured, likely lead to the top of the mesa. In the old days, tourists probably used this route for sightseeing. Nox noted several fresh tire tracks along this path. All of them belonged to the desert rats’ vehicles.

  Nox ignored this path and followed a tougher rock surface climb. The way was almost vertical and proved physically grueling. On the other hand, there were plenty of places to hide, should the desert rats make an unwelcome reappearance. It took Nox close to an hour to work her way up. By the time she got there, she was confident no one saw her ascent.

  Her caution proved a waste of both time and effort.

  There was no one at the top of the mesa. The desert rat vehicles’ tire tracks converged there before turning and heading back down.

  Nox rubbed her side and winced. She kneeled down on the sand and allowed a few minutes to pass while she caught her breath. When she recovered enough strength, she walked the area.

  Eventually her gaze turned to the sandy plain below. In the distance she spotted the still smoldering fire the desert rats set before the buried Octi Corp. survey van. She looked there and back to the mesa top several times, until she found a particular patch of smooth rock at the mesa edge. She leaned in closer and again looked over to the survey van’s location.

  “Here,” she muttered.

  In a crack in a large flat rock she spotted something shiny. Nox reached down and fished out the object. It was a spent rifle cartridge.

  “.30 caliber,” Nox muttered. There was a glimmer of recognition in her face. Despite her exhaustion, Nox managed a smile. “Cavalry to the rescue.”

  Nox tossed the spent cartridge and began the long walk back down.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Eseno Gas Station lay rotting next to a rare stretch of uncovered ancient asphalt smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The asphalt was the last visible remains of Route 96, one of the old highways that, once upon a time, connected all the old big cities together. Like everything else out here, the desert swallowed the rest of the route up, but in this valley and shielded from the more violent nocturnal winds, the weathered remnants of the past lived at least one more day.

  Nox’s chopper coughed and sputtered as the engine died. The Mechanic parked her vehicle in front of one of the station’s two pumps and dismounted. The chopper was running hot and was just about out of fuel. Nox removed the gas cap and examined the fuel pumps. They were all locked up. Though she could easily pick the locks, Nox instead replaced the chopper’s gas cap.

  A cool wind blew from the east, taking with it the overwhelming desert heat. Nox removed her sunglasses and massaged her tired eyes. Afterwards, she replaced the sunglasses and unstrapped her backpack from the chopper’s side. She then hitched it over her left shoulder and walked up to and through the station’s front door.

  The interior of the Eseno Gas Station was rotted with age and wear. The only furnishings in its lobby were three sets of shelves that a very long time ago were likely filled with candies, chips, or the latest glossy magazines. They were bare now, with the exception of a couple of weathered and outdated maps.

  Nox dropped her backpack on the floor. At the rear of the station was a circular brick well. Nox walked to it and, after fishing herself some fresh water, noticed a hand scrawled sign posted on the back wall.

  Gone for Dinner. Be back in twenty minutes. No money in till, no valuables in the store, so don’t bother. Help yourself to the water but please don’t piss in it.

  Nox grabbed her backpack and exited the station. The last of the day’s light was fading fast and the cool winds grew with each passing minute. Nox retrieved a leather jacket from her backpack and put it on. She sat in one of the wooden rocking chairs to the side of the station’s entrance and took out her Desertland map.

  She tried to focus on the many notations on the map but instead struggled with the harsh grip of exhaustion.

  After a while Nox gave up and folded and put the map away. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest and, after a fashion, drifted off to sleep.

  The sun rose through the gas station’s window. Nox eyes, hidden behind her dark sunglasses, fluttered open. An unusual sound, that o
f a bird singing in the distance, caught her attention.

  Nox got up and stretched. The bird’s song was stilled, replaced by a low rumble. Curious now, Nox reached for her backpack and grabbed a pair of binoculars. She walked down the asphalt remnants of Route 96 until coming to a stop at the far side of the road. Wisps of sand swirled around her as she got her bearings. She listened carefully for a few moments before turning to the south east and raising the binoculars to her eyes.

  She spotted a convoy of three old style big rig trucks in the distance. Each carried a long and heavy payload. The payload, like the trucks themselves, was painted a dull red, good camouflage designed to keep stray pirates and desert rats from easily spotting their prey. Nox focused on the lead truck, increasing the binoculars’ magnification until she spotted a small logo painted on its door.

  Tower Co. Survey.

  Nox lowered the binoculars. She took a few seconds to think about her next move. Once decided, she ran back to the gas station’s porch. She stowed the binoculars and pulled the backpack over her shoulder. She then ran to her chopper and strapped the backpack down before mounting.

  Nox turned the fuel key and shut the throttle. She was about to kick start the engine when a voice from behind stopped her.

  “You're not going to follow them, are you?”

  Nox turned the fuel key to the off position and let down the kick stand.

  Standing on the porch, cradling a half-eaten apple, stood a thin old man wearing dusty clothing. His skin was wrinkled and sun beat, and a dusty black patch covered his left eye. The man carried an M30 rifle on his shoulder.

  “You're late, Ellis,” Nox said.

  The old man smiled and took another bite of his apple.

  “Couldn't help it,” he replied. “Had an important meeting with the stockholders. They’d be dead without me.”

  “I suppose they would be,” Nox said. “And the desert rats?”

  “They’re pretty good trackers, especially when they’re good and mad,” Ellis said. “Took a while to lose them.”

  Nox dismounted her chopper and walked past Ellis and to the station’s entrance.

  “When you told me you were coming, I figured you might need a hand,” Ellis continued. “You city girls may have that scene all locked up, but things work a little differently out here.”

  “Not really. Survival is survival.”

  “But familiarity with the territory is worth its weight in gold,” Ellis said. The smile on his face broadened. “Been a while since we saw each other.”

  Nox stopped and, for the first time since she arrived, looked Ellis over. She could still see the youthful Betty Lou Reconnaissance Tank’s navigator hidden under the accumulated age and wear. Perhaps Ellis still saw the youthful Blue Brigade soldier beneath the grown woman that had become Nox.

  “Yeah, a while,” Nox acknowledged.

  “I missed you too.”

  Despite her best efforts, Nox couldn’t hold back her own smile.

  “What’s got you so fired up?” Ellis asked.

  Nox’s smile faded.

  “Come on,” Ellis prodded. “First you nearly get yourself roasted by a particularly mean bunch of desert rats, and now you’re thinking of going after Tower Co. trucks. I never knew you to be suicidal, so I’m guessing there’s some kind of method behind your madness. Tell me. What’s gotten into you?”

  Nox didn’t reply. After a few seconds, Ellis shook his head and frowned. The anger within him grew until the older man grabbed Nox’s shoulder and spun her around.

  “I don't have to tell you how it is out here. You don't leap into something without a lot of careful planning. The desert rats are one thing. They have to see you with their own two eyes to attack. They’ll kill you, gently, because they need the meat. But Tower Co.’s trucks’ sensors will pick you up from five miles out, and when they do, the people in those trucks will take you out without any hesitation at all.”

  Nox leaned against the station’s door and folded her arms. Ellis’ anger, now spent, was gone.

  “Come on, Nox. What's got you so steamed?”

  Nox closed her hands into fists. The old man looked down at the Mechanic’s hands and spotted her thick black gloves and the bandages protruding out from within. Ellis shook his head.

  “Is that what this is about?” he said. “Revenge? Someone hurts you and you have to hurt them right back?”

  Nox relaxed her hands.

  “First rule of being a Mechanic—,” Ellis said.

  “—don't let emotions cloud your judgment,” Nox finished. “Do your job like a machine: cold, efficiently, and unemotionally.”

  “And don’t take anything –anything– personally.”

  The old man headed to one of the chairs along the porch. He sat down and motioned for Nox to join him. Nox sighed and did so. Her chair groaned under the weight.

  “You're after Tower Co.?”

  “No. Octi.”

  “Then why in the world are you interested in the Tower trucks?”

  “I was planning to follow them to their base camp.”

  “And then?”

  “Break in. Get whatever intel they have on Octi Corp’s operations in the Desertlands. Those two are mighty fierce competitors in these parts. I figure Tower Co.’s got plenty of useful information on Octi.”

  “Indirect data mining. Not a bad idea. You’re right, the bulk of Tower Co.’s interests are in this part of the desert. I’ll bet they know more about Octi’s operations here than Octi Corp.’s own personnel do in the Big City.” The old man nodded and smiled. “Not a bad plan at all. Except you forgot one little thing: Because Tower’s assets are all tied in to the Desertlands, they’ve invested far more resources on security than any other company operating out here.”

  “What kind of security?”

  “Guess.”

  “Proximity mine fields?”

  “That’s one.”

  “Motion detectors?”

  “That’s another. At least five different models and types.”

  “Redundancy.”

  “And how. I can’t vouch for what’s inside their main compound, but I’ve seen the detectors stationed outside and heard a word or two about them from others who have gone in.”

  “That’s all?” Nox said. She smirked. “I could get past them—”

  “Hell no that’s not all. Now we move to the visual scanners.”

  Nox’s smirk disappeared.

  “Infrared?”

  “And ultraviolet and the Gods themselves know what else. But there’s more: I’ve heard of guards running to a corner of the Tower Co. lot and firing off a series of rounds at what turned out to be a single poor, unfortunate groundhog.”

  “Sounds like some kind of seismic scanner,” Nox said. She sighed. “What else?”

  “The obvious: The compound’s perimeter is protected with a five-layered electrical fence, at least twenty watchmen on call twenty-four hours a day, and a final thirty-foot high-electrified steel wall that surrounds the inner base. I’ve seen drones, not unlike the type we had during the war, circling the area, too.”

  “...damn...”

  “Uh huh. There is, however, some good news.”

  “What?”

  “You’re after Octi Corp., so you can forget all about Tower Co. and their magnificent security systems and focus all your energies on your actual target.”

  “Great.”

  “Now, why Octi?

  “I was hired to do a job for them. Didn’t work out so good.”

  “Don’t tell me: You have to get them before they get you.”

  “Naturally.”

  “What's your hook? What brought you way out here instead of confronting them in the Big City?”

  “A couple of months ago one of their survey vans was decommissioned. Permanently. All scavengers working for that survey van were said to have met a most unfortunate end.”

  “And?”

  “One of their relatives in the Big Ci
ty found out at least one of them was still alive.”

  “Interesting,” Ellis said. “Are they still alive?”

  “No.” Nox shrugged. “Either way, the survey crew stumbled into something very, very big. Something so big Octi Corp. had to silence them and quickly. But Octi moved a little too quickly. They released their cover story before their hit squad actually killed the crew off.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Ellis said. He finished the apple and tossed its core aside. “What happens when you figure out what the survey crew found?”

  “I’m hoping the reasons behind their elimination are juicy enough to hurt Octi.” Nox paused. She shook her head. “No, not just hurt them. I’m hoping it’ll take them down.”

  Ellis let out a low whistle.

  “You always were an overly ambitious child,” Ellis said. “If I’m not mistaken, Octi Corp. is one of the top ten worldwide corporations. They’ve got deep pockets and plenty of muscle. Couldn’t you find yourself an easier target?”

  “You are mistaken,” Nox said.

  “What about?”

  Nox stared into the distance and leaned back in her chair.

  “They’re one of the top five worldwide corporations.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nox and Ellis stood over one of the rotted tables within the gas station. Laid out before them was Nox’s Desertland map. Nox ran her fingers from the Big City’s borders and traced her progress from there and along the dusty trails. She pointed to one location and tapped her finger.

  “That’s where Octi Corp. claimed the survey crew hit a radioactive zone,” Nox said. She slid her finger across the map and to the south west, ultimately tapping a second spot. “And that, of course, is where I found the van.”

  “It was a mighty nice place to stash them,” Ellis said. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is out there.” He let out a chuckle. “Other than the desert rats, of course. But as witnesses to some corporate skullduggery, they hardly count. Just try to get formal statement from any of them. Yeah, it’s a perfect place to get rid of unwanted articles small and large.”