for a moment peering into the storm.
“We can’t go off-road here,” she said, calm and thoughtful. “We could back up a ways and try, but in this weather it might not be a good idea. I’m going to scout around a bit, see if there’s any way around.”
I stared at the trees as lightning flashed again, and as Adora started to squirm out of the safety netting, I put a hand on her arm, my HUD rippling in my vision as adrenaline dumped.
“Wait,” I said. I felt her stiffen under my hand—it was, I realized, the first time I’d ever touched her. I took my hand off her shoulder carefully and pointed. “The trunks are cut smooth—these trees were cut down,” I said. “This is a roadblock.”
She looked at me, then back at the scene in front of us. “Out here ? You telling me people just camp here waiting for someone to show up every year or so?”
I bit back some mean-spirited words, twisting around to try and peer out the back. “They’ve got a trip somewhere down the road, probably right where the pavement starts—it’s rough and rocky there, and you wouldn’t notice a pressure plate. Can run something like that off a battery for years. All it does is light a bulb a mile up the road, and the team goes into action.” I looked forward and nodded. “Trust me, we’re about to be killed and robbed.”
“I’ll back out,” she said, sounding suddenly young and nervous.
“Too late,” I said. There was movement out near the felled trees. I shrugged off the safety netting and heaved myself up off the hard seat in order to pull my gun. I checked the chamber and flicked off the safety, twisting my arms up to slide the gun into my shirt collar, pressed against the back of my neck, cold and uncomfortable. I twisted around and lashed a hand into Remy’s face. He grunted and opened one eye.
“Trouble,” I said. “Stay here and keep her alive.”
He opened his other eye and raised an eyebrow. I turned and popped open the door, letting it rise up on its hydraulic hinges. I put my hands up into the pelting rain.
“Coming out!” I shouted. They’ll be behind you , I thought. Pincered. That’s how I would do it.
Hands up, I stood and stepped into the wind and rain. The door slammed down as I stepped clear. I looked behind us and saw the chain they’d stretched across the road, a heavy rope of metal. Two of them stood in front of it, just silhouettes, no guns that I could see. Guns were problematic—not the guns, which were fucking everywhere, but the ammunition, which was fucking nowhere. I turned to face forward again and decided the two behind me didn’t have any barkers.
Up ahead was just one figure, but it carried a scoped weapon, a rifle of some make. The details were stolen away by the rain and the dark. Lacing my hands behind my head, over the cold butt of my Roon, I started walking forward.
“We don’t want trouble!” I shouted. “We have nothing to steal!”
I was just buying a few seconds. I put my eyes everywhere as I shuffled forward, looking for anyone hiding on the edges, which would be the smart play. I didn’t see anything.
“Are you fucking simple?” the woman up ahead shouted back, her accent harsh and German sounding as she pointed the rifle at me. “That fucking wagon’s worth a fortune. That’s close enough.”
I didn’t stop walking. In the old days she would have just cut me down, sprayed some bullets and hosed the four-wheeler down later. If she even had bullets; these days they were too expensive to just waste. “Come on,” I shouted back, trying to keep my shoulders down and cowed, my voice shaky. “You can’t—”
Without rushing, I yanked my gun up out of my collar and took two steps to my left as I got my grip and raised it up. With a squawk she let loose, the rifle spitting flares and jerking in her wet hands. I took a brath and squeezed the trigger twice, and the vaguely feminine shadow by the trees dropped without another word.
I let myself fall to
“We can’t go off-road here,” she said, calm and thoughtful. “We could back up a ways and try, but in this weather it might not be a good idea. I’m going to scout around a bit, see if there’s any way around.”
I stared at the trees as lightning flashed again, and as Adora started to squirm out of the safety netting, I put a hand on her arm, my HUD rippling in my vision as adrenaline dumped.
“Wait,” I said. I felt her stiffen under my hand—it was, I realized, the first time I’d ever touched her. I took my hand off her shoulder carefully and pointed. “The trunks are cut smooth—these trees were cut down,” I said. “This is a roadblock.”
She looked at me, then back at the scene in front of us. “Out here ? You telling me people just camp here waiting for someone to show up every year or so?”
I bit back some mean-spirited words, twisting around to try and peer out the back. “They’ve got a trip somewhere down the road, probably right where the pavement starts—it’s rough and rocky there, and you wouldn’t notice a pressure plate. Can run something like that off a battery for years. All it does is light a bulb a mile up the road, and the team goes into action.” I looked forward and nodded. “Trust me, we’re about to be killed and robbed.”
“I’ll back out,” she said, sounding suddenly young and nervous.
“Too late,” I said. There was movement out near the felled trees. I shrugged off the safety netting and heaved myself up off the hard seat in order to pull my gun. I checked the chamber and flicked off the safety, twisting my arms up to slide the gun into my shirt collar, pressed against the back of my neck, cold and uncomfortable. I twisted around and lashed a hand into Remy’s face. He grunted and opened one eye.
“Trouble,” I said. “Stay here and keep her alive.”
He opened his other eye and raised an eyebrow. I turned and popped open the door, letting it rise up on its hydraulic hinges. I put my hands up into the pelting rain.
“Coming out!” I shouted. They’ll be behind you , I thought. Pincered. That’s how I would do it.
Hands up, I stood and stepped into the wind and rain. The door slammed down as I stepped clear. I looked behind us and saw the chain they’d stretched across the road, a heavy rope of metal. Two of them stood in front of it, just silhouettes, no guns that I could see. Guns were problematic—not the guns, which were fucking everywhere, but the ammunition, which was fucking nowhere. I turned to face forward again and decided the two behind me didn’t have any barkers.
Up ahead was just one figure, but it carried a scoped weapon, a rifle of some make. The details were stolen away by the rain and the dark. Lacing my hands behind my head, over the cold butt of my Roon, I started walking forward.
“We don’t want trouble!” I shouted. “We have nothing to steal!”
I was just buying a few seconds. I put my eyes everywhere as I shuffled forward, looking for anyone hiding on the edges, which would be the smart play. I didn’t see anything.
“Are you fucking simple?” the woman up ahead shouted back, her accent harsh and German sounding as she pointed the rifle at me. “That fucking wagon’s worth a fortune. That’s close enough.”
I didn’t stop walking. In the old days she would have just cut me down, sprayed some bullets and hosed the four-wheeler down later. If she even had bullets; these days they were too expensive to just waste. “Come on,” I shouted back, trying to keep my shoulders down and cowed, my voice shaky. “You can’t—”
Without rushing, I yanked my gun up out of my collar and took two steps to my left as I got my grip and raised it up. With a squawk she let loose, the rifle spitting flares and jerking in her wet hands. I took a brath and squeezed the trigger twice, and the vaguely feminine shadow by the trees dropped without another word.
I let myself fall to
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