Lone Gunfighter of the Wastelands

by Rachel Aukes

  “Do you think they’re dead?” she asked.

  Nick got chills that he shook off. “No. No way. Mom’s working for that fat guy, and Joe’s got to be still alive.” Right? He girded his self-assurance. “Joe’s still alive because if they wanted to shoot him, they would’ve done it here, but they didn’t, so that means he’s still alive. I bet he’s working for that fat guy, too. And we can go rescue them together.”

  “Rescue them? How?”

  Nick jogged into his bedroom and grabbed the pellet gun propped against the wall next to his bed, along with a box of pellets. He carried it out of the room, suddenly feeling like a protector rather than a helpless kid.

  Romy watched him without speaking.

  He strolled confidently around the house, carrying his gun before an idea hit him. He ran over to a side table where Joe had stashed a blaster for his mom to use in case of an emergency.

  He set down his pellet gun and pulled the blaster out of the drawer. He hefted the weight in his hands as he considered the weapon. Since both Joe and his mom were missing, he figured Joe would agree two nine-year-olds left on their own definitely counted as an emergency.

  He glanced once more at his pellet gun. He was a great shot with it, he could even fire it blindfolded, but he’d never tell his mom about the one occasion when he had. On the other hand, he’d only shot a blaster once in his life, when Joe showed him. It’d been super easy to shoot, but his mom had gotten mad at Joe, and Nick never got the chance to shoot one again.

  “Is there another blaster for me?” Romy asked.

  “This is the only blaster, but I’ll show you how to use my pellet gun.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “What’s a pellet gun?”

  “It’s a gun that shoots pellets. Duh,” he replied. He set the blaster down and handed the gun and box of pellets to her. He began showing her the ins and outs of the weapon. “All you do is drop a pellet in this hole here. Then you pump air into the gun using the grip here. I usually pump it three or four times if I’m hunting varmints. The safety button’s here. See? Red is ready to fire. Black means the safety’s on.”

  She frowned. “All that work to shoot only one pellet?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, so you’d better be a good shot.” He paused, then took off. “Hold on.”

  He ran to his bedroom and grabbed the makeshift paper targets he’d drawn on butcher paper and ran back to her. He grabbed the blaster. “Come on. We need to practice if we’re going to rescue Mom and Joe.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Joe searched for a weapon as the four murcs stalked him, but he’d thrown the only one that’d been nearby. His fingers brushed across the pitchfork tine. He clamped his jaw and sucked in a breath as he yanked out the slim piece of rusted metal. He slid it into his waistband, careful to not look like he was doing anything suspicious.

  The four had their blasters leveled. When they were within five feet, they encircled him. The one in front of him spoke. “Follow me, prisoner.”

  The murcs began walking, and Joe struggled to keep up—hell, he was struggling to stand.

  “A little help here, guys?” Joe asked. “In case you haven’t noticed, I had a pitchfork shoved through my leg.”

  He received a blaster tip poked against his back in response.

  “I’m moving as fast as I can,” Joe said. He was half tempted to just fall and let them drag him back to his cell, but he didn’t know if they’d just kill him instead, so he stayed on his feet.

  His left thigh hurt worse than anything he’d felt in a long time. The tines had skewered muscle, and he couldn’t take a step without stressing the injuries. On the bright side—if there was one in all this—his shoulder didn’t hurt too badly. Wendigo’s claws were so sharp, they’d cut like razor blades. The slice in his shoulder had gone deep, but not deep enough to hit muscle or bone. The wound bled, but as long as he held his right arm to his chest, the pain was bearable.

  The prick in front never slowed down, but at least the murc behind Joe didn’t shove him forward, because if Joe fell, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to his feet. His muscles shook from both weakness and the adrenaline hangover, now that the fight had ended. He wobbled every time his left boot connected with the ground, which was constantly since he could no longer lift his leg. He clutched his thigh as he dragged his leg forward.

  The door they’d entered through opened, and Joe wondered if he’d have to make the long walk down the same hallway again. He hoped not.

  Yep, he walked the same damn hallway to the same damn cell. His cellmates watched him return. They all seemed surprised to see him.

  “Bobo?” Terry asked from the other side of the bars.

  Joe shook his head.

  The prisoner in the next cell over gave Joe an appraising nod before turning away.

  The lead murc slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled a tube out of his pocket. Joe recognized the coagulant gel immediately—he’d used enough of it through his life. The murc squirted a line across the cut in Joe’s shoulder, and then put three dots on the three holes in his thigh.

  “Since you’re playing doctor on me, I sure could use bio-wrap,” Joe said.

  The murc laughed. “Don’t worry. You won’t live long enough to get an infection.”

  Joe frowned. He didn’t like that response one bit, and realized he had one shot. The odds sucked. Four against one, but he’d take those over another mutant any day of the week.

  “You’re sending me back out there?” Joe asked the lead murc as he gripped the pitchfork tine while leaning forward to rub his thigh.

  The murc chuckled. “Of course you’re going back out there. Probably even tonight. You came in on an immediate death sentence.”

  “Lucky me. How about a painkiller, then? Something to help dull the pain so I can at least give them some kind of a show,” Joe said.

  The murc eyed Joe for a long moment before shrugging and putting his hand back into his pocket.

  As soon as he did that, Joe grabbed the murc’s arm, spun behind him, and pressed the tine to the man’s throat. Joe was careful to use the murc’s body as a shield.

  “I’m going to kill you myself,” the lead murc growled.

  “I’m dead already,” Joe said. He spoke to the others. “Drop your blasters and put your hands up in the air. If I see any of you even twitching toward a weapon or a comm, your buddy’s going to become a kabob, got it?”

  Fortunately, none of them had a hero’s death wish and wasted no time doing exactly as Joe instructed. As soon as their hands were in the air, Joe shoved the tine into the murc’s neck and grabbed the rifle. With the blaster still slung over the man’s shoulder, he brought it up and fired at the three murcs. A smoky haze filled the air. As all four fell, Joe unslung the rifle and held it ready, tight against his side, since movement made his shoulder protest.

  Prisoners in the cells on both sides of Joe began pleading to let them out.

  “Quiet,” Joe ordered. He bent down as carefully as he could to rifle through the murc’s pockets for more coagulant gel. He was relieved to find the man actually did have painkillers on him. He popped a tablet in his mouth and shoved everything else in his pocket.

  Through the hopeful faces in his old cell, he spied Terry. “If I let you out, will you help me get out of here?” He motioned to his bum leg.

  Terry nodded vigorously. “Of course. Just get me out of here.”

  Joe took the keycard from the lead murc, grabbed a second blaster, and opened the cell door. Terry stepped out. As expected, his other cell mates followed. They pilfered the remaining weapons and took off running, but Terry stayed with Joe. He hoped he’d read Terry right and could count on the man until they were at least clear of the Devil’s Playground. He handed Terry the other blaster, and Terry looped an arm around Joe to help him walk.

  “What about us?” the prisoner in the next cell over asked.

  Joe grabbed a second keycard off a fallen murc and tossed it to the p
risoner. “Let out everyone you can.”

  Terry and Joe headed quickly down the hallway, though prisoners ran past.

  “As soon as they get outside, the murcs are going to see them,” Terry chided.

  “I’m counting on that,” Joe said.

  “Yeah?” A nervous tic caused Terry to blink.

  “Yeah. They’re our diversion.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Joe and Terry made their way down the hallway. When they came to a T-junction, forcing a turn to the left or right, Joe pointed to the left. “This way.”

  “But everyone’s going that way,” Terry said, gesturing right.

  “They’re going outside. If the murcs don’t get them, the heat will.”

  Terry went along with Joe and assisted him in the opposite direction. Terry was in no way assertive—and for that matter, he looked to be barely a man at all, probably still a teenager—and Joe wondered what the kid could’ve possibly have done to end up in the Devil’s Playground, let alone be slated to fight on the Devil’s Dance Floor.

  The alarms sounded, echoing through the halls.

  “It’s an official jailbreak now,” Joe said. He nodded to a doorway. “Through here.”

  Like all prison doors, this one was locked, but the keycard opened it to reveal a cargo elevator. The pair stepped through the doorway, but the tight fit resulted in Terry’s knees bumping Joe’s thigh.

  Joe grimaced, though the pain was muted courtesy of the painkiller he’d taken a couple of minutes earlier.

  “Sorry,” Terry said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Joe said. He tapped the button for subfloor three. The elevator descended. “The good news for us is that the murcs will go after the herd first. It’ll take the murcs hours, if not days, to get a full headcount, let alone identify anyone still missing. As long as we’re not seen, we have a pretty good shot at getting out of here.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It’s only easy if we move fast and don’t run into any murcs. I’m guessing we have five minutes, tops, till they discover the dead murcs and disable their keycards.”

  “You think we can be out of here by then?” Terry asked.

  “Maybe. It depends on the train schedule.”

  Terry frowned. “Train schedule?”

  Joe nodded. “It’s how they get all their food and supplies this deep in Shiprock.”

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  “I’ve been through here a few times, and I noticed the train schedule on the wall one time a while back.”

  Terry’s frown only deepened. “How many times have you been in the prisons here?”

  “First time.” When Terry continued to watch him, Joe added, “I’m a bounty hunter.”

  “Oh,” Terry said, and his eyes darted around as thoughts ran through his head.

  The elevator stopped, and Joe readied his blaster. The door opened. Joe held Terry back for a long second before the pair stepped out of the elevator and into a wide corridor. Joe expected little opposition, but he hadn’t expected the service hallway to be empty. He looked from left to right, and motioned right, to where a large double-door stood.

  The pair stopped when they reached it. Joe peered through the windows in the door to see a cavern beyond. A supply train sat on the tracks that ran through the center, but he found no staff. Then he realized a prison break would cause a mandatory lockdown. All non-armed staff would be holed up in some room, waiting for an all-clear before going back to work.

  Joe pulled away from Terry. “Check the schedule. How much time before this train leaves?”

  Terry glanced around him, then rushed to a panel on a nearby wall. He ran his fingers down a list. “Twenty-three minutes.”

  Joe nodded. He would’ve preferred three minutes, but twenty-three was a hell of a lot better than not having a supply train out there at all.

  “I saw the parking level is just one above this one. We could take someone’s cutter,” Terry offered.

  Joe shook his head. “No. As soon as the owner knows their rig’s missing, they can initiate a lockdown on their vehicle by entering a simple code through their armlet. Then we’d be sitting ducks.” He motioned to the train outside the door. “That train is our ticket out of here. I don’t see anyone out there, but I can’t see what’s to our left and right from here. That means we could find ourselves in front of some murcs the moment we step through that door. Shoot at anyone you come across. No hesitation. Got it?”

  Terry hesitated. “I’ve never shot a blaster before. I just point and shoot?”

  Joe eyed his companion for a moment. Then he motioned for the young man’s blaster, checked the weapon, adjusted the settings, and handed it back. “Point and shoot. Just make sure I’m not anywhere between you and your target when you pull the trigger.”

  “Got it.” Terry eyed the blaster like it was alien technology. His expression didn’t give Joe a warm and fuzzy feeling.

  “How about you just stick by my side out there, and if I tell you to shoot, you shoot. Okay?” Joe asked.

  Terry nodded. “Okay.”

  Joe raised his rifle. “Open the door.”

  Terry did as instructed, and Joe stepped through the doorway, swinging his blaster from left to right. No one.

  He would’ve found it odd that they hadn’t assigned at a least one team of murcs to every possible escape route, but the sounds of battle coming from outside the cavern likely explained the lack of soldiers near the tracks.

  Joe motioned for Terry to join him, and they moved as quickly as Joe could limp toward the train. When they reached the track, Joe said, “Find us an unlocked car. I’ll keep an eye out for company.”

  Terry checked the door at the nearest car before moving down to the next one. Joe constantly scanned both sides of the tunnel while following Terry. Every locked car made Joe more and more antsy, and he was beginning to wonder if all the cars locked and unlocked as a single unit.

  “Got one!” Terry called out, and Joe hobbled over to a car, outside of which several pallets of garbage were stacked.

  As Joe approached, movement caught his eye, and he dove behind a pallet. When he peeked around the edge, he saw two murcs enter the tunnel from a doorway. Joe cursed to himself and went to motion Terry to be quiet, but the prisoner had disappeared inside the car.

  Joe turned back to the threat and watched them jog toward him. They had riot gear on, which meant that any blaster shot had to be precise to take them down. Since they hadn’t spotted him yet, he was counting on them running by, none the wiser.

  Terry’s head popped out of the car. “Joe, aren’t you coming?”

  “Damn it.” Joe stood, aimed, and fired at the surprised murcs. His first shot took down one, but his second shot ricocheted off the other murc’s blast shield. The man ducked and began firing back. Joe didn’t move. Instead, he fired off several more shots until he hit the murc in the arm. The soldier lowered his shield, and Joe followed up with a hit to the chest.

  “Get down here and help me hide these two,” Joe ordered gruffly.

  Fortunately, Terry moved quickly, and they dumped the bodies into a pallet that contained a tall bin. The pair hurried back to the train car. Terry jumped up first, then helped pull Joe on board. As soon as they were inside, Joe pushed the door closed and fell onto his butt. He took a deep lungful of air and immediately regretted it.

  He grimaced. “The good news is that any car on a Shiprock train has to be somewhat climate-controlled because of the intense heat. The bad news is, we’re stuck in a car that smells worse than a dung pile in summertime.”

  “I could keep looking,” Terry offered. His voice had a nasal twang since he was pinching his nose with his fingers.

  Joe shook his head. “This was the only car that had pallets by it. I’m guessing the other cars have already been loaded and locked. As long as this train leaves on time, we’ll be safe until the next stop.”

  Terry looked depressed. “They’l
l probably not let the train take off because of the jailbreak.”

  “Trust me. It’ll leave,” Joe said. “The guilds have tried to stop trains before to get their targets, and it doesn’t matter who the target is, the trains are going to run on time. There’s too much cost involved in delays.”

  “But the murcs do whatever they want,” Terry countered.

  “The murcs might control the wastelands, but they have no control over the trains. That’s the RSTC—Rapid Shipping Transportation Company—and trust me, they won’t stop for anything. And since they’re fully automated, there’s no one who can be bribed to stop a train. These trains come and go on schedule, and don’t stop, even if someone is standing in the middle of the tracks. Trust me on this.”

  The car rumbled. Joe swung his rifle toward the door, but it didn’t open. Instead, the rumbling smoothed into a gentle vibration as the train picked up speed.

  Terry looked around in wonder. “It really took off.”

  Joe leaned back and smiled. “See? That wasn’t so bad. You didn’t even have to shoot anyone.”

  Terry pushed aside a carton of compressed garbage. “We really did it. We’re free.”

  “At least until the next stop,” Joe said.

  The young man’s brow pinched together. “Then what happens?”

  “The murcs will be there, waiting for us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “You opened that bottle yesterday, and it’s half gone already,” Reuben scolded.

  Rex shrugged as he leaned back in his chair with his boots on the table. “You know me. I don’t drink unless I’m alone or with somebody.”

  Reuben paced. That was all he’d done since his agency and bar went up in smoke. He had no idea if any hunters besides Rex were still alive, and he feared the worst. He paused. “We have to reach out to the rest of the guild.”

  “No,” Rex said.

  “But they might need our help.”

  Rex took another drink. “If anyone’s still alive, they’re likely on Cat’s payroll by now.” He tilted his head. “Hey, that makes me the sole employee of the Haft Agency. Can I get a raise?”