CHAPTER 2
Retracing Steps
The citizen was clear and concise; a well-educated man. He stated he had come into town that evening to see a friend, to my surprise, a man called “Big” Tom. I didn’t know him personally, but had heard of him. People say he is a whiz on computers and pretty handy at fixing just about anything that has to do with Lennox Corp tech. It made sense that the two of them would be friends seeing as how the citizen worked in the Lennox Corps tech branch. The two had been friends as children and the citizen tested higher than “Big” Tom, therefore Mike grew up within the city walls. But the two stayed friends. They would get together and bounce around new technology ideas and shoot the shit about life in general. Mike said, it was like any night between the two of them; a couple of drinks and a few laughs. But when he presented Tom with the thumb drive and showed him what he had been working on, Tom became furious with him and freaked out. Evidently, Tom told Mike he should never have shown him classified Lennox Corp tech. If they caught the two of them with it, they would toss their bodies out into the Wasteland pit for the buzzards. Mike knew Tom was probably right, but he really needed to talk to somebody he could trust. Tom wanted no part of it though, so Mike said he headed on out. Feeling woozy from the drinks and the adrenaline from the altercation, Mike said he staggered towards the citizen’s entrance to the city. This is a notorious area for armed robberies against citizens. Citizens are easy prey before they reach the safety of the transition zone, where they must be scanned to gain admittance into the city. Mike thought 2 men were following him almost as soon as he left Tom’s place But later thought he must be paranoid. He had made this walk dozens of times before and never had an issue. Why would tonight be any different? The men approached him walking hastily, pushing almost through him, but never stopped or said a word. It was only upon his return home, he reached in to empty his pockets and found the thumb-drive gone. It must have been a pick pocket. Having finished his story, I knew my next step.
I headed to Big Tom’s to see if he had anything to add to the story and get his corroboration of the events as retold by Mike. I didn’t want to go to Big Tom empty handed. I asked around and found out that Big Tom was a hoarder of copper wiring or anything that even had copper in it. It just so happened, I had taken a small spool of copper wiring off the nomads that donated their bunker to me for the winter. Trading goods for information definitely speeds up the process. This case was already too much trouble. I had only been back in the slums for 2 days and I was ready to head back out into the Wasteland. The stench of depression and defeat filled the people of the slums. They wore desperation like a ball and chain unable to free themselves from a repetitive cycle of oppression. I could feel the weight of the slums pushing down on me every time I came here. I wanted to help, but I knew there was nothing I could do for them. Even if they made the decision to rebel, Lennox Corp would crush them and start over. Though I am seemingly indestructible, if Lennox Corp found out about my gifts, they would imprison me and condemn me to lifelong experimentation.
When I arrived at Big Tom’s house, the entire place was trashed and Big Tom had been beat to shit! Helping him up was a chore even for me. I now could see firsthand why they called him Big Tom. Tom clearly wasn’t one of the starving people. I helped him into an upright sitting position and started trying to coax him back into reality. He was in shock and kept saying something about the special division. If he was talking about the special division of Lennox Corps security branch, we had a genuine problem. That meant they were looking for the drive and Lennox Corp had already discovered Mike’s betrayal. Mike was most certainly already dead. Big Tom passed out again after his incoherent rant. I stuck around a bit longer and waited for him to wake up. I still needed information even if it was just to cover my own ass. If Lennox Corp was looking to question anyone involved, I could very well be next on their list. This was not the first time I had seen an example of how they ask questions.
After a few hours, Big Tom woke up, and I was right there copper in hand ready to play the good guy. I didn’t want him thinking I was another Lennox Corp goon. Hesitant at first, he finally let me help him up. We made our way to the sink and cleaned up his cuts. I took this opportunity to explain how I came to be there. Tom excepted the copper coil, and we talked for about an hour. He told me that Mike was very upset about a technology he developed some years ago. He seemed very afraid of how Lennox Corp may be using it. Tom immediately told Mike to go home and never come back. Big Tom said that when Mike left the residence, he knew the trouble they were in. Tom said he refused to see what Mike had on the thumb drive; he didn’t want to know. Tom’s fears were justified; 2 days later members of Lennox Corps top security unit showed up and beat Big Tom nearly to death. They tore his entire place apart looking for the drive. To my advantage, this meant they didn’t know where it was either.
Mike’s hunch about a pick pocket must have been right. I hung around Big Tom’s until nightfall and retraced Mike’s steps back to the transition area to see if I noticed any of the usual suspects working the area. I walked the drag all night and though I saw my fair share of illicit activities, mostly con artists and beggars, but I saw no pick pockets. I obviously wasn’t leaving the slums tonight. I had no leads and no ideas. As I approached Tammy’s, I noticed something wasn’t right. There was no one hanging around outside, and an eerie quiet hung over the entire area. My senses never fail me. As I entered, an entire room full of Special Division agents from Lennox Corp. sat waiting for me. After seeing how they handled Big Tom, and knowing that they had a special knack for finding violence in even the most calm situation, I decided it best to enter calmly and immediately lay face down on the floor. An altercation with these men would be sure to expose my gifts. The man in charge granted me permission to get up and join him at the table for a business proposition. He introduced himself as Special Division Commander for S.C. 3. The commander told me they were well aware of my business arrangement with Mike. The commander explained that he was well informed of the people and activities in S.C. 3, and that it seems I have somewhat of a legend status here in the slums. But the way he said it, with a note of sarcasm, believe me, he was not impressed. The commander said, “We want to hire you to find the Lennox Corp thumb drive. Mike is no longer available to work with you. You would be working for me. This won’t be a problem will it?” What could I say? He said they had information that a small time pick pocket had stolen the drive. When he couldn’t break the code, he sold it to a hacker group that appeared to be taking it to the slums of S.C. 1. We think they have a bunker somewhere around there. Lennox Corp is prepared to transfer 50,000 credits to your account, half right away half when you retrieve the drive. I wasn’t normally one to have anything to do with Lennox Corp, but in my mind the job just got easier with better guarantees. I now had valuable information about who had the drive and I was being paid by the corporation, including half up front; I agreed. This was definitely better than being thrown into a pit in the Wasteland wasting away under circling buzzards. I can only assume that would have been my fate. It was clear they needed this drive, and they wanted to keep it quiet. With my reputation and connections in the slums, they figured I could get more information from the locals. The situation suited me just fine. The sooner this job was done, the sooner I could leave. My eagerness to head back to the Wasteland was growing by the day.
My quick payday was leading me into unfamiliar territory. I had been nowhere near S.C. 1 in over 10 years. After accepting the job, I couldn’t help but think about Mike. I knew he was dead, but I didn’t feel bad for him because for him this was the only way things could have turned out. I should have told him he could never go back to the city. From the moment I met him I knew his fate. As I tried to get my head back in the game, I realized the commander was giving me a detailed file on the hacker group. They called themselves Cloud 9 and had been a pain in the ass of Lennox Corp for years. They stayed very mobile and had operatives in all three slu
ms. Many believed they had moles inside the city itself. Something Lennox Corp would fully deny. I was very familiar with this group of hackers, but I played dumb. In my experience, I had found that the best way to get information out of people was to play dumb and let them do the talking. If you intimidate them with your intelligence, they close up and become threatened by you. It’s always better to let them feel in control. Cloud 9 was traveling to S.C. 1 with five paid mercenaries as protection, which meant they would have to stop at the trading post for the night. The trading post was 3 days from here, and then it was another 4 days to S.C. 1. If you were willing to cut through Serpent territory, you could get to the trading post in just over a day and a half. It just so happened that not only was I willing to cut through Serpent territory, I insisted. I had a score to settle. I intended to make sure that no one dared call themselves a Serpent ever again.
I had a small cache of weapons hidden away just outside of the slums. Those would have to do for now. I had no time to return to my bunker. The Serpents were more like a cult than anything else. You could ask any member of the group their name and they would all respond one word “Snake”. But I knew something that few knew. I knew who the head of the Serpents was, a man named Waylon. He grew up in the same area of the Slums as I did. Though only a few years older than I, he had a fierce reputation as a killer. Waylon disappeared into the Wasteland for a few years and returned with a small following of hijackers calling themselves the Serpents. They soon grew to over 30 members and now control a crucial stretch of the Wasteland. Their primary drive is to rob and kill travelers. They have collected a lot of mechanical parts throughout the years and built themselves a rolling convoy of top notch vehicles for road warfare. I had contemplated many strategies of destruction for the Serpents over the years, but it was time to make a plan and execute it. The Serpents had slithered around in my Wasteland long enough. I waited until well after dark and headed out. I had learned that the wild dogs had poor eyesight and didn’t hunt at night so that was when I did most of my traveling. They couldn’t kill me, but their attacks were violent and relentless. I preferred to avoid them at all costs.
CHAPTER 3
Snake Wrangler
I made my way out of the slums to retrieve my cache, my mind working on how I would kill 30 plus serpents in armored vehicles. Sometimes in life the toughest questions answer themselves. When I opened up the box containing my cache, clarity came. Not only had I stashed some decent weaponry, I had also stashed improvised explosive devices. I intended to use the explosives to blow open an old mining tunnel that I found on an Old World map. The removal of the Serpents would be a much better use. I decided the ultimate tribute to the blacksmith would be to rig explosives to the buggy he built for me and drive right into their convoy, blowing them all straight to the depths of the Wasteland. I was the only one equipped for this job; I had survived being blown up 3 times! I knew for a fact that I would not only survive but would only require about 6 hours of down-time to heal. By my calculations, that still put me at the trade station well ahead of Cloud 9.
I rigged up my buggy and rode for Serpent territory. As I thought it out, first the exterior patrols would need to be taken out. Second, I had to lure out the convoy and trigger the explosion. Waylon drove the lead truck nicknamed the “Hard Charger”, a modified tow truck built to ram and clear paths for their artillery trucks. They mounted these trucks with 50 caliber rifles and harpoons. Blindsiding Waylon would be the only way to set off the explosion. If he hits me and opens me up to their artillery vehicles, things would get messy quick. The last thing I wanted was some Serpent escaping during a firefight and telling everyone in the slums he saw me take damage from heavy artillery, without as much as slowing me down. This had to be a clean sweep, no one walks away.
I headed out to the edge of Serpent territory and, like clockwork, the first patrol appeared. In about five minutes, the next patrol came along. I stashed the buggy a little over a mile away and made my way over to their patrol loop on foot. I waited for one of them to pass again and give me my five minute window. I snuck out into the middle of the highway and lay down like a drunkard passed out. The patrol approached quickly, slowing only as they came upon my still body in the road. They shined their spotlight on me and took up a position, waiting for the other patrol to circle around and join them. I had found the perfect position to take the advantage. Taking out both patrols should be easy. Once the other patrol arrived to provide backup, the four men all surrounded me. Now they were out of their vehicles and exposed. Just a little closer now and I will strike. One man came near and poked me with his rifle barrel. I made a swift move grabbing the barrel, and rolling over removed the weapon from his grasp. I fired multiple shots into his midsection. His lifeless body fell to the ground. The other men raised their weapons and started firing! Each shot that landed burned a little more than the last one. I had become so accustomed to taking gunfire; I healed almost as fast as the bullets hit these days. My body continued to absorb the shots as I moved from target to target removing each one’s throat with my bare hands. These men did not deserve honorable deaths! They will tell no stories in the afterlife.
The convoy will have heard the shots and be gearing up for a fight. I would use the speed and handling of the buggy to get into position. The key would be to hit them quick and hard before those artillery vehicles opened fire. I heard the rumble of the convoy pushing fast towards my position, so I looped around and set up on the flank. I threw the road flares as I pulled the buggy around. I wanted there to be as much confusion as possible. The road flares were working. The convoy decreased their speed. As they approached the ambush area, I gunned the buggy and headed down the side of the hill, gaining speed as I descended on the convoy. As I sped towards them, I misjudged my approach and hit the second vehicle, not Waylon. Next came the flash; a beautiful explosion of Serpents and metal! However, this joy did not come without a cost. The pain of the explosion was unbearable. The last thing I remember was the smell of scorched and burning flesh. A few hours later I woke up good as new just like I always do. The only side effect, as always, was that I woke up foggy and struggling to remember what happened. Thankfully, this doesn’t usually last long. I looked around at the vast destruction and took a moment to enjoy my victory. My buggy had served its purpose. This had been a long time coming.
As I regained my wits, I scavenge around the wreckage for anything that might be useful to me later. I worked my way out to the Serpent’s stronghold; anyone left would present minimal resistance. They had abandoned the hideout. Either I had killed everyone, or the rest had bugged out after the explosion. I found everything necessary to head out to the trading post including an old rail buggy. I found Waylon’s quarters and it appeared he had bugged out, as well. My mistimed hit might mean Waylon could still be alive, and that put me a little on edge. My hope was he was unaware of who executed the hit. If he survived, it wouldn’t be long, and he would begin recruiting for the Serpents again, but he will have to find a new residence first. I took everything that I could fit in the buggy. I couldn’t be sure what I would need once I reached the trading post. Though not a victory, it would take Waylon a while to rebuild and recruit. So for now, my wasteland is Serpent free, and I am on my way to pick up the biggest score of my life.
The night was crisp, and the air felt lighter knowing that I had avenged the blacksmith and I would finish the job with Waylon. Right now I had a schedule to keep. The trip to the trading post went smooth, and I found myself enjoying the night sky as it reflected strange green and pink hues. It was time to shift my focus to recovering the hard drive.
CHAPTER 4
Fair Trade
As I approached the trading post outside of S.C. 1, it was buzzing with activity. Blending in with the crowd to watch the comings and goings would be easy but I had other business first. I wanted to pick up supplies, a new vehicle and some information on the slums of S.C. 1. I had not been there in a long time, and they operated by a un
ique set of rules. I had to figure out the best place to hit the security detail protecting the hackers, and it needed to be strategic, not loud. The goal: try not to kill the hackers. Let’s face it, without revolutionaries like them, who would expose Lennox Corp. Unfortunately, in this situation they may have bitten off more than they could chew. Their security detail was of no consequence to me. Mercenaries were just fake tough guys too scared of the Wasteland to scavenge, so they make a living playing errand boy for people even more scared than they are. They traveled in teams and always numbered five; never more never less. My first order of business would be collecting information on S.C. 1, so I headed over to the bar.
I sat down at the bar and ordered moonshine and a protein paste. My bill was 50 credits. I gave the bartender 500 credits and played the waiting game. When she returned, she told me to talk to Henry when he came in and the tip will need to be double. At 1000 credits, Henry better be the guy. I slid my moonshine down to the drunk a few stools away. I’ve never found much use for alcohol. It makes people impaired and impaired people have very bad judgment. I choked down my protein paste and relaxed while I waited for Henry. About an hour later, a short stout man came in and manned the bar. He had a sour demeanor and a no nonsense attitude; this had to be Henry. I sat quietly waiting for him to engage me in conversation.
Kalil had taught me about trading posts at a very young age. He always said, “Everything there is for sale, even your life.” I always took that to heart. There is a specific way to conduct business; step out of line and you pay the consequences. When I was 17, Kalil, and I visited a trading post in the fringes when an outlaw nicknamed Grizzly got way out of line, harassing the ladies and running his mouth to anyone who would listen. Though a feared man, you don’t mess with trade. The vendors drugged his liquor and that night. When he passed out, they skinned him alive and hung him in the square for everyone to see. I still see the image of his lifeless, skinless body every time I recall the event.
Lennox Corporation: Book 1 in the Savior Series Page 2
