Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (28 page)

It floated upside down in the water. Moses climbed up the far side, and it tipped as the slaves tried to climb on board. One struggled to pull himself out of the water, but the weight of the chains pulled him down, and his fellow slaves pushed him away. He sank, leaving only a few bubbles behind.

“You stupid bastard,” Moses yelled. “One of us could have been rich.”

Two guns and Guy’s pack on the bottom of the river. A knife sticking out of his leg. He didn’t have much left to his name other than his shinies pouch. And the Brain, so long as he could keep him.

“I’m not doing much better than you are.”

Guy glanced toward the Brain. He was floating near the shore, the plank supporting his chest, and his legs splashing in the water as he tried to kick himself to safety. He looked back for a second.

“Simon,” he yelled. Then turned in the water, and stared at the boat.

“Get to the shore,” Guy yelled.

Spank-Monkey’s bow floated in the water near the boat, with an arrow caught in the string. Moses leaned forward, clinging to the boat with one hand. Then grabbed the bow with the other.

Guy turned until he was floating on his back, facing away from the boat, and kicked with his good leg. Trees towered above the shore, and branches dangled low over the water. A few more metres, and the bow would be no threat. Moses wasn’t going to be swimming after them with all that metal on his body, either. Once into the woods, they’d be safe.

Moses raised the bow, and aimed at Guy. Then smirked, and swung it toward the Brain. He pulled the string back, and sighted along the arrow. The Brain stared back at him, then paddled in the water until he was facing toward the shore.

Was the stupid fucker really going to shoot the Brain, rather than let him escape? The King wouldn’t be much happier knowing the Brain was dead than knowing he was working for someone else.

“Don’t be stupid,” Guy yelled. “The King will kill you.”

“He’ll kill me anyway, when he hears I let you get away. This way, at least you won't have any fun.”

Something tapped against the wood of the boat. Eight legs scuttled over the hull. Then Simon jumped. His legs clamped onto Moses’ helmet, and Moses screamed. The arrow flew wide as Moses dropped the bow, and tried to pull Simon away.

At least the spider was useful for something. Guy turned, and swam toward the shore as fast as his leg could go.

B
runhilde thundered across the arena toward Daniel. He could barely see her through the cloud of dust her feet threw into the air, but he could hear her thumping footsteps, her thundering breath, and her booming yells.

“Die, you motherfucking pile of monkey shit.” She was barely two metres away, and closing fast.

This was it. He'd either escape, or die. Drones buzzed in low, following the action. Brunhilde's dark eyes appeared out of the dust, staring into his. Anger and hatred burned the air between them.

One more second.

Then he dove to the ground, and rolled between her feet. Dirt smacked against his body as she passed him. Her hind claws slashed his arm, and he groaned at the pain from his side.

Brunhilde didn't have time to stop. She ran headlong into the arena wall. Her forehead smacked into the wood with a loud thunk, then her body followed. The poles that held the wall creaked for a second, then gave way under the momentum of the huge bear hybrid that had just smashed into it, and the weight of the crowd leaning over the top.

Men yelled, and women screamed, as they crashed to the ground. The wooden walls collapsed on top of them. And the bear hybrid slumped down on top of the wall.

Brunhilde rubbed her forehead, and twisted around on the wood. Bones cracked beneath her, and some of the screams were cut short as her weight, and that of the spectators, crushed the life from their bodies. An arm reached out from beneath the fallen section of wall, the fingers scrabbling at the ground. Then they twitched, and fell to the dirt. The arm stopped moving.

Stop looking, and get moving. The crowd were running scared, backing away from the arena. Brunhilde was still stunned, but would be ready to fight in a few seconds.

Daniel ran for the gap in the wall as fast as he could move. Brunhilde tried to grab his leg, but he jumped over her slow-moving paw. Men grunted beneath the shattered wall as he landed on it, adding his meagre weight to the pile. They moaned and screamed with pain as he clambered over them, and the wood slid beneath his weight, crushing down on the ones who weren't already dead or wounded.

And it was all his fault.

“Sorry,” he said.

No, fuck that. He wasn't sorry. These evil bastards had come to the castle to see him die, then eat his body. They deserved everything that happened to them. He stomped harder than he needed to as he climbed over the pile, and pushed past them.

The Guards responded faster. They were already moving his way, with their weapons drawn. Daniel glanced toward the grandstand. The King was on his feet, Princess scowled at Daniel, and the girls just sat back and laughed as they watched the chaos down below.

Daniel was naked, wounded, and unarmed. What could he do against the King and all his Guards? Grab a sword, swing into the grandstand on one of the flags that flew from the walls, then fight the King to the death?

Yeah, right.

“Get the bastard,” the King yelled. “Ten gold shinies to whoever brings me his balls.”

“Kill him,” Pig-Face yelled, and raced across the courtyard with his sword swinging. A cloud of drones dodged out of the way as he charged between them.

As Daniel tried to climb to his feet at the far side of the wall, his left foot refused to move. An arm protruded from beneath the fallen wall, and the fingers were wrapped around his ankle, holding it tight. A battered, bruised, bloody face stared at him, the owner of both face and hand trapped beneath the wood. The fingers gripped tighter, and the long, sharp nails stabbed into Daniel's flesh.

Other hands reached out for him, and dazed eyes turned his way in the crowd beyond the wall. Daniel swung his right leg, and kicked the face of the man who'd grabbed him. The man's grip relaxed, and he groaned as Daniel kicked him in the face again. The fingers released the ankle, and Daniel pushed himself up, his feet still unsteady as the writhing pile of bodies under the collapsed wall twisted it beneath him. Another hand grabbed his arm. Vlad gripped him, and squeezed until Daniel gasped with pain. Then Vlad pulled a knife from his belt.

A chunk of a post protruded from the wall, snapped where the collapse had torn it apart. Daniel grabbed it, and pulled it free. Then smashed it down onto the arm that held him. Hard-eyed faces stared at him as a dozen more spectators climbed onto the wall, ignoring the groans from those trapped beneath.

“We’ll get you this time,” Skull-Face said, and smacked a fist into his other palm for effect.

Daniel swung the broken pole around him. It crunched as it smacked into Vlad’s head. Vlad grunted and relaxed his grip, and Daniel kicked him in the stomach. Vlad fell back, and toppled onto the pile of spectators below the wall. Skull-Face laughed, and stepped toward him. Daniel swung the pole again.

Brunhilde pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. As she lunged forward, her wide, hairy body smashed through the approaching mob of men, and sent them flying. They crashed down onto their backs as Brunhilde looked Daniel's way.

But she'd opened a gap in the crowd for a few seconds.

Daniel ran, head down, swinging the pole as hard as he could. It twisted in his grip as it connected with a woman's head, and she fell backwards, knocking Skull-Face down.

He had to escape and find Guy. Regroup, create a new plan, and start the Revolution over. There'd be another day to kill the King. And kill him they would.

First, he just had to get out of a castle full of armed guards, through a crowd who wanted to see him dead, past a giant bear hybrid who had just tried to kill him, and was itching to rip his head from his shoulders.

D
aniel swung the pole again and again when anyone tried to get close. But he couldn’t keep swinging it for long. His time in the arena had worn him out, his arms were fading fast, and his ribs stabbed his side with pain every time he moved. He had to get away, now. The mob pushed forward as they sensed his weakness. Drones buzzed through the air above them like an ever-growing swarm of electronic mosquitoes.

A mob of Guards on the wall shoved each other as they tried to get down the steps to the courtyard. Others watched with their guns and bows ready, but they weren’t firing. Probably didn’t want someone else to get the shinies for giving the King his balls. That greed was probably the only thing keeping him alive right now. If he died, everyone in the crowd would be fighting over his body, and the strongest would win.

But the Guards would surely shoot if he tried to get over the wall somehow. Not much hope in that direction.

The gates? Two Guards stood in the archway, pulling the wooden gates closed. Not to mention the dozens of men between him and the wall, who were now recovering from the shock of his violent escape, and staring at him like he was a big, shiny pile of gold. They pulled swords, knives and guns from their belts, and started Daniel’s way. A gun boomed, and he ducked as the bullet passed over his head.

He needed a miracle.

A high-pitched whistle filled his ears. He turned, just as Skull-Face lunged toward him. Daniel swung the pole as hard as he could, and Skull-Face dodged back.

He swung it again. It smacked against Skull-Face’s palms as he grabbed the end. Daniel tried to swing it back for another blow, but Skull-Face pulled harder, and tore the pole from his grip. Skull-Face grinned widely, and the mob surged forward. He swung the pole at them, and Daniel backed away.

The whistle came again.

Daniel wanted to look, but couldn’t take his eyes off Skull-Face. The pole swung again, and he dodged out of the way as it skimmed past just a few centimetres from his face. But that moved him closer to the rest of the mob.

The man who had fired before raised his revolver again. Daniel jumped aside, trying to put Skull-Face between him and the gun. He turned back, just in time for Skull-Face to punch him on the nose. Pain raced through his skull as bone snapped.

Then Skull-Face yelled, and his eyes bulged wide. He shrieked as clawed, furry paws wrapped around his neck. Then he disappeared, screaming as he flew across the courtyard, when Brunhilde tossed him aside.

“I’ll take those shinies.” Her claws swung for Daniel’s face.

And stopped as half a dozen men grabbed her arm, and pulled it back. The mob swarmed over Brunhilde, pulling her down. She swung her arms, smashing into their bodies, tearing flesh from their bones. Her teeth ripped out one man’s throat in a shower of hot blood, but another took his place.

The whistle came again.

Daniel glanced toward it. A furry face peered out of a hole near the inner wall, between the grandstand and the food stall. A furry paw waved at him. Rat-Girl motioned him to her.

What did he have to lose?

He ignored the pains and ran, with what little energy his body could still find. Only a few metres, and he’d be with her. The Guards on the grandstand looked at each other. The cook at the food stall raised a long knife.

“Why isn’t the little fucker dead yet?” the King yelled.

The grandstand Guards looked at each other again, then stomped down the steps. Pig-Face and half a dozen Guards raced across the courtyard toward Daniel. Brunhilde tossed men aside behind him, and forced her way through the mob.

The ground exploded as a rifle bullet from the wall kicked up a spray of dirt. Then, as Daniel approached the food stall, the cook hopped over the wall, and swung the knife toward him. Sun glinted from the wide, sharp blade that had been hacking through flesh and bone just moments before, and looked eager to hack through Daniel’s.

He ducked under the knife, and slammed his shoulder into the cook’s fat stomach. The man grunted and stumbled as he tried to swing the knife again. It sliced through the air behind Daniel’s back.

Rat-Girl whistled and waved.

Three metres. Maybe four.

Daniel ran. Then stumbled. His foot slipped on a bloody, pink pile of intestines in the shadow of the stall. He twisted his legs to catch his balance, but his knee fell to the ground, and the pain of the impact shot up his leg. He rolled, and tried to push himself to his feet.

Then he flew into the wall of the food stall, as the mob chasing him slammed into his back.

R
ed strode into the clearing where they’d camped. His lungs gasped for air, and his fur was soaked through with sweat. Since he saw Moses and Guy at the bridge, he'd run as fast as he could, back to the
Meat Packers
’ camp in the depths of the woods. He’d lost track of Stubby and Slaphead a kilometre or more back, but they’d catch up before he had to leave. The rest of the gang lounged round the fire, roasting steaks on the grille.

The fat man still hung from the tree. They’d cut his legs down to bare bones, with a tourniquet wrapped around the top of his thighs, and his arms a bloody mess. The hounds pulled against their chains and hissed as they tried to reach him. He just hung there, slowly rotating on the chains, his eyes barely responding to the hungry animals.

Snake looked up from the fire. “What’s up, then? Why are you back so soon?”

Sweat dripped from Red’s forehead. Every muscle in his body ached after the trip. But that fucker Moses wasn’t getting away with this. Red never much liked Sparky, but if everyone saw Moses fuck with the
Meat-Packers
and get away with it, they’d never be safe. He was going to make an example of that fudge-packing cocksucker.

“That fat old fuck killed Sssparky.”

Snake nodded toward the fat man. “Him?”

“No. Mosssesss. The one Guy let essscape.”

Snake laughed. “The old homo? How could he kill Sparky?

“Doesssn’t take a lot of ssstrength to ssstab sssomeone when they’re not essspecting it.”