Lone Gunfighter of the Wastelands

by Rachel Aukes

  “Yep. And it was as much fun as it sounds. The trip took long enough to know all the lizards by first name.” Joe thought for a moment. “There were two of us, but the other guy didn’t make it.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Me too.” Joe took in a breath. “I was heading up to find you. How did you find me first?”

  “In classic Ballast fashion, you had luck on your side. From how you looked, I have no idea how you made it as far as you had.” Kit chuckled dryly. “I’d just turned in a ticket and was heading home. I came across a road gang; it was just a pair of punks, really, and they were shooting at something. My curiosity got the best of me—I have no sympathy for road gangs—and I saw that they were, sure enough, trying to take down a weary traveler. You, in this case. The punks didn’t even have the proper gear to be a road gang. No cutter, not even blasters, but I guess it didn’t matter, given the shape you were in. Did you know that you were within five miles of the Iron Guild’s headquarters? You’re lucky five other hunters didn’t come across you first. Wait, why were you coming to me?”

  “You were the closest, and I need your help. You know what they say about a friend in need…”

  “A friend in need is a schmuck,” Kit answered.

  “The friend I’m talking about in this case is Nick Swinton.”

  Kit sobered. “Nick’s long-since buried, Joe.”

  “His wife and son are in trouble. They need our help.”

  Kit swallowed. “What’s happened to them?”

  Joe told him. Afterward, the pair sat in a long silence.

  Kit sighed. “I’m in, but I’m doing this for Nick, not for you.”

  Joe winked. “I missed working with you too.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Joe was at the mercy of that hard, dilapidated mattress for two days before the medicines in the bio-wraps healed him enough to let him move without torment, though he still had quite a limp, and where the arrow had pierced his side gave him a constant cramp. His forearm was badly bruised from the arrow wound, and he still wore bio-wraps on his leg, side, and forearm. But his shoulder had completely healed—the mutant’s cut hadn’t been as deep as he’d first thought. He put on his boots with a small wince, then stretched away the stiffness in his muscles.

  Kit walked in wearing his exoshield, with blasters in thigh holsters and a sword in a scabbard on his back. His chest plate read TURBO, and Joe was surprised that Kit had kept his Raven call sign rather than taking on a new one when joining the guild. The name suited Kit; he could drive any vehicle, and drive it better than anyone else out there.

  Kit carried his helmet under his arm and held a blaster in his free hand, which he handed to Joe. “I’ll expect you to return that pistol once you get your own weapons back.”

  Joe smirked. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a cheapskate like you.” He slid the pistol into his belt. “So, what do you do with all those credits you make on the job? You sure don’t put them into this place.”

  Kit motioned for Joe to follow, and Joe limped behind him, through the small apartment and to the parking unit.

  Joe whistled. “I should’ve known you’d spend your credits on your cutter.”

  Kit waved a hand toward the sleek gray vehicle. It had no obvious armor or weaponry, but Joe knew it was likely better armored than Monster. “Joe, meet Silver Shark. Treat her with respect, or else you can find yourself another ride to Cavil.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting another man’s cutter,” Joe said as he walked around and climbed into the passenger seat.

  Kit put on his helmet, climbed in behind the yoke, and powered up the rig’s systems. Lights and sounds emitted from the dash that curved around him.

  “We’ll go to Sara’s house first,” Joe said. “I’m assuming they left my exoshield behind, since it wouldn’t be of use to anyone, and they assumed I was heading off to be killed by someone’s pet mutant. After that, we’ll look for the kids.”

  “Kids, plural? I thought Nick and Sara only had one kid,” Kit said.

  “They did. Their son’s name is Nick, but there’s an orphan—Romy—staying with them, too.”

  Kit’s lips thinned. “Plenty of orphans around nowadays.”

  Joe looked out the window as Kit backed out of the parking unit. The windows instantly darkened against the bright sun. “I thought we’d start seeing fewer orphans after the Revolution, but it seems I see more and more with every year.”

  “Things didn’t quite turn out how the MRC’s sales pitch made it sound. Sure, they’re plenty different from Zenith State, but they’re not any better.”

  “We all fell for their sales pitch. Otherwise, we never would’ve fought for them.” Joe shrugged. “Looking back, it’s hard to believe that the murcs started off as the rebels, trying to kick a corrupt government out of the zones. Sometimes I wonder if things wouldn’t have been better to have left Zenith in control and save us a few wars.”

  “No,” Kit said darkly. “Things would not have been better with Zenith State. We’re free now.”

  Joe remained quiet. The murcs had won the Revolution, and the people were free, and he agreed with Kit that things wouldn’t have been better under Zenith’s control, but he also didn’t believe things would’ve been worse under Zenith’s control. Zenith State had at least attempted to unite the wastelands—but they’d been assholes with how they’d gone about it. The MRC’s laissez-faire approach created openings for corrupt murc administrators to step in and take control of their own towns, just like the Sloan brothers were doing. Some murcs were better than others, but Joe had yet to meet any that were significantly better than Zenith State’s representatives. A government was only as good as its leaders, and the MRC had succumbed to the plague that had claimed every government before it: greed.

  The pair spoke little on the long drive, though it was much shorter than Joe expected. Silver Shark was capable of traveling nearly twice the speeds Monster could reach, and he suspected Kit’s cutter wasn’t even running at full power.

  Joe turned to Kit. “When this is all said and done, maybe you can take a look at Monster and work some of your magic. She could use a few tweaks here and there.”

  “Upgrades won’t make you a better driver,” Kit said, before adding, “but sure, I’ll take a look.”

  Joe smiled. He knew Kit couldn’t resist the opportunity to work on a vehicle. When they’d served as Ravens, Kit had kept all the team’s support vehicles in tiptop shape. It’d become his passion during the Revolution, and was clearly still the case.

  When they reached Cavil, Joe guided Kit to Sara’s neighborhood.

  “If they know you escaped, they’ll be watching the house,” Kit said.

  “I know,” Joe said, thinking.

  “They may be expecting to see you, but they won’t expect to see an Iron Guildsman,” Kit offered.

  Joe nodded as Kit’s suggestion formed into a plan. “You go straight in like Cat sent you, while I sneak in from below. We take out any guards posted at the place.”

  “Sounds like a decent enough plan,” Kit said.

  “Okay. Then drop me off here.” Joe pointed. “Give me ten minutes to make my way through the tunnel network and into Sara’s house from the underground entrance. If I’m spotted entering her house, you can take them out while they’re distracted.”

  Kit stopped the cutter, and Joe pointed at the small white dome several houses down. “There’s the Swinton house.”

  “I’ve got it,” Kit said.

  Joe opened the door and squinted at the sunlight. He gave a simple nod to Kit and took off at a jog, which immediately became a limping walk when his leg protested. The cutter pulled away, and Joe entered an alley between two ramshackle domed homes. At the end of the alley was a set of stairs leading down. He took them as quickly as he could, pulling out his blaster as he entered the cool underground. It took his eyes several seconds to adjust to the dim, artificial lighting, and he made his way throug
h the tunnel. Like all tunnels, this one had been roughly cut out of bedrock, with doorways leading to homes and meeting places. Most doors were marked, a few weren’t, and Joe made his way around bends and curves, slowing as he drew closer to the door to Sara’s house.

  Joe came to a door with no signage. Instead of entering a code on the keypad set in the wall, he lifted the keypad. In the open space behind it was a handle. He pulled, and the door opened.

  A single light came on. Inside was a small space, no bigger than a closet, with narrow shelves lined with food, water, and blankets. It was a hidden room, known to only a few people, and it was where Nick had been taught to hide in case of any danger. There was no sign of the kids or the dog, but a ruffled blanket lay on the floor, and a bucket smelled like an old outhouse. He frowned. Had Sloan’s murcs caught the kids before they could get away?

  He heard distant blaster fire, like the sound of shots being fired from the other side of a sealed door. He closed the door, rushed around the next corner in the tunnel, his blaster ready, to find no one was standing outside Sara’s door. He rushed to the door, entered the code on the keypad, and the door opened with a whoosh.

  Kit stood over two fallen murcs.

  Kit looked up at Joe. “You were taking too long.”

  “I was moving as quickly as I could,” Joe said as he stepped over the bodies. “The kids weren’t in their hiding place.”

  “They’re not in here either,” Kit said. “Your shield’s upstairs. Same with your cutter, if that’s what you call that thing you drive, but you won’t be driving it out of here.”

  “Why not?” Joe asked.

  “You’ll see.” Kit turned and led the way through the living space and upstairs to the small common area.

  There, Joe found his exoshield exactly where he’d left it, as he’d expected since every exoshield was custom-built. His blasters were missing, which he also expected, as anyone could use them. His armlet sat a few feet away with a blaster shot through the center of the screen.

  He examined the armor to make sure it hadn’t been damaged or booby-trapped, then put it on. He sighed as soon as it was on, the comfort of the extra protection and strength palpable. He slid the blaster Kit had loaned him into a thigh holster before putting on his helmet and running through the sensor readings. The suit showed a full charge.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it,” Kit said. “I’ve worn mine for so many years that I can’t go out in public without it.”

  “Same,” Joe said.

  “I see you still go by Havoc,” Kit said.

  “Always have, always will.” Joe walked over to the side table and opened the drawer to find the spare blaster missing. The murcs had likely found it, but Joe still found it disappointing. “I have all my weapons back at my place.”

  “You think they haven’t looted it yet?” Kit asked.

  Joe shrugged. “Won’t know until we check it out.”

  They walked to the door that led outside, but Kit paused at Sara’s corkboard, which was filled with pictures of Sara and Nick Junior. His gaze settled on a picture of a smiling and very pregnant Sara, sitting next to her husband, Nick Swinton. He was wearing his exoshield, minus his helmet.

  “He looks young there,” Kit said, looking at the picture.

  “She was pregnant with Little Nick, so that picture must’ve been taken right before the Shiprock Riots. I think that’s the last picture of them together,” Joe said.

  “I guess he just looks young there, then,” Kit amended.

  “War ages a person,” Joe said. Nick hadn’t survived the conflict, which meant that Nick hadn’t lived two years beyond when that picture had been taken.

  Kit turned to leave. Joe was about to do the same when a picture caught his eye. It was one of Sara and Nick, but had been turned upside down. He unclipped the picture. On the back, he discovered a handwritten note. “Hold up,” Joe said, and read the note.

  Honey –

  Miss seeing you at Misty Bottoms. Not the same without you. Stop by the next time you pass through town.

  XOXO, Tabby Ray.

  Joe handed the note to Kit as he chuckled.

  “Girlfriend?” Kit asked, surprised.

  Joe shook his head. “No. It’s a note from T-Rex. He isn’t exactly the best at encoding messages. All he did was change the words for each name, keeping the first letters. Honey is me, Tabby Ray is T-Rex, and Misty Bottoms has to be Madame Bovary’s, a brothel he frequents in Far Town.”

  “As encoded messages go, that is about the worst I’ve seen,” Kit said. “But he must be a good friend of yours to risk sneaking in a message at a place that’s being watched.”

  “No. We can’t stand each other most of the time.” Joe inhaled. “But if Rex is reaching out, then he’s probably with Reuben, and Reuben might know where the kids are and where Sloan put Sara.”

  “Then let’s get to your friend’s brothel,” Kit said.

  The pair walked outside, and Joe froze. “My poor baby.” The words escaped on a breath.

  “I always said you can judge a man by the cutter he drives.” Kit shook his head slowly from side to side. “What did you do to that poor thing?”

  Joe stared in dismay at Monster, with its destroyed wheels and smashed windshield. “The blaster shots are new.”

  “And the dents?”

  Joe peered into the vehicle and checked the back to find it stripped of weapons. “Courtesy of our friends, Bolt and Tumbler, when they rammed me off the road.”

  “That pair deserve an ass-whooping for beating up a cutter like that,” Kit said.

  Joe scowled. “That’s exactly what I plan to give them.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The good news was that there were only two murcs standing guard at Joe’s home, and just like the pair at Sara’s, Kit dispatched them quickly. The bad news was that the place had been stripped bare of weapons, leaving only the furniture behind. The alarms had been shot into charred pieces.

  “Wow, Sloan took everything and left just your bed and a measly table and chair? I can’t decide if that’s mean or considerate,” Kit said.

  “That’s all the furniture there ever was,” Joe said. “But the bastard took all my weapons.”

  “Wait. You were complaining about my place when this is all you have?” Kit asked.

  Joe didn’t answer.

  “Wow, that’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Kit went on. “Weapons were always your thing, though, so I’m guessing you must’ve had an impressive blaster collection if this is all you have left.”

  “My extra money went to help Sara and Little Nick,” Joe said.

  Kit became quiet.

  Joe picked up the sign from the floor, the one that read Home is where the blaster is, and tucked it under his arm. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go talk to Rex.”

  As they drove into Far Town, Joe could see Kit visibly tense.

  “Worried your shiny cutter might get a scratch?” Joe mused.

  “Of course I am. I bet if I leave her alone for five minutes, someone will try to break into her.”

  “Five minutes?” Joe chortled. “I’d guess three at most.”

  Kit pulled to a stop near a domed building with a flashing neon sign that read Madame Bovary’s House of Pleasure.

  After they stepped out of the vehicle, Kit turned around and entered a lockdown sequence on the door. “There. Let them try to break in. They’ll learn about Shark’s teeth.”

  Joe headed down the steps into the brothel. The entry room smelled of perfume, candles, and sweat. Several scantily clad women and a couple of equally scantily clad men sat on plush sofas around the open space, some sipping drinks, all eying the hunters in exoshields. An older woman, who Joe expected to be the madame, stepped forward.

  “Gentlemen, are you visiting us today for business or for pleasure?” the woman crooned.

  “I have a friend staying here,” Joe said. “I’m sure you know him, a fellow hunter who goes by the name of T
-Rex.”

  She nodded to a woman nearby, who stood and headed downstairs. The madame lifted her chin. “And how am I to know you’re friends of T-Rex?”

  “Anyone who knows Rex knows he doesn’t have any friends,” Joe said. “But I’m about as close as it gets to being one.”

  She smirked. “I see. So you do know Rex.” The younger woman returned and whispered something in the madame’s ear before returning to her place on the sofa.

  The madame nodded at Joe and Kit. “Follow me.”

  She led them down the stairs and through a long hallway. The air was cooler here, but thick with smoke and perfumes, which didn’t fully mask the cloying stench of sweat and sex. She stopped at a door near the end and pressed a button.

  When the door opened, she stepped to the side. “Rex does have friends, just not many of them.” She then walked away.

  Joe entered first, followed by Kit, and found himself facing the barrel of a blaster in T-Rex’s hands. He was wearing his exoshield and helmet, so Joe couldn’t make out if he was serious or simply messing with him.

  Joe held up his hands. “Whoa there, buddy. We’re the good guys.”

  “You, I know. That guy with you is from the Iron Guild,” Rex said.

  “Turbo is my brother from the wars, and he saved my life. You can trust him,” Joe answered.

  “Just because you say I can trust someone doesn’t make it so,” Rex replied, then leveled the blaster on Kit. “And if you take one step closer, you’re going to be as dead as a can of beef.”

  “I’m starting to see what you mean about this clown,” Kit said to Joe.

  Rex snickered. “What Havoc means? Like how smart and good looking I am. Well, I’m wearing a helmet right now, but trust me, I’m as good looking as they come.”

  “Let them in, Rex,” Reuben said as he stepped out from an adjacent room.

  Rex hesitated before lowering his blaster with a huff and taking a seat.

  Kit closed the door behind them.

  Reuben smiled at Joe. “I think there’s someone here who’d like to see you.” He turned back to the doorway he’d come through. A second later, out tumbled Nick and Romy, Champ following with a wagging tail.