Peace in an Age of Metal and Men (14 page)

“That is one fetching outfit,” Zane said as he drifted casually up in his red car. “And did you shave?” He hopped out and reached up to touch my face, pulling back only at the last second. The look on my face must have pulled him up short. “They don’t really get you, do they?” he asked.

“They try.” I pulled uncomfortably at the outfit Mina had picked for me. It really did look ridiculous. “I don’t think they really know what it means to be two spirited. They make so many guesses at the traditions, and, well, I think they thought I would fit.”

“But you don’t.”

“No,” I said, rubbing my smooth face. “Not really.”

We were under the dead oak for which Dead Oak was named. It was once a majestic testament to strength and nature, but somewhere along the way it had stopped turning green. Its claws scraped at the morning sun, but no life sprung from its buds. Dry heat was quickly moving from unbearable to oppressive. Zane was just as immaculate as always, wearing another crisp black suit and sporting a neatly trimmed beard. I blew the smoke of the last stub of a cheroot through my nose and stubbed it out against the tree.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked

His tone got serious. “Did you bring the tech?”

I shook my head. “There was a kid in there.”

“In where?”

“The machine in the bank. She was…” I gestured, trying to wordlessly convey something that was difficult for me to say. Then I had an idea. I used my glow cube to pull up the scan of the old man. “This look like anything to you?”

Zane winced. “A Kiva.”

“What?”

“He’s hollowed out. The girl you saw in the bank probably was too. It’s possible to remove a person. Their identity. Everything. Leaves nothing but a Kiva.”

“Seems there wasn’t anything left.”

“The human brain is an amazing thing, you know.” Zane lips were pressed into a tight line.

“Who would do that?” I poked him in the chest. “And why do you want the tech that makes it work?”

“We need to be able to counteract its effects.”

“Or replicate them.”

Zane’s expression turned flat. “Replicate?”

“Tell me something, city boy.” I stepped forward and talked right into Zane’s face. “Can you guarantee me that Goodwin won’t use that tech once he has it? Can you look me in the damn eye and tell me that there ain’t nothing but good intention in what you’re planning with it?”

Zane looked at me. He looked hard, right into my eyes. “Yes,” he said.

I met his gaze. Held it for a good long time.

“No,” he finally said. “But if Quintech’s the only one to have it, then it’ll be worse. They’ll own the whole damn continent before you can so much as spit.”

“It’d be better if Goodwin owned it?”

Zane shook his head. “Balance of power. You know what that means?”

I nodded. It made some kind of sick sense. If only one organization had the tech, then they’d take over easily. If two had it, there’d at least be some resistance. “War,” I said.

“Stability. Stable is good.” Zane rubbed his temples. “It’s a damn game. People like you are just caught up in it.”

Part of me wondered if he was just caught up in it as well. How much was Zane a puppet and how much puppeteer? The Quintech Corporation sounded familiar though. They built my arm and a lot of the tech in Josephine’s junkyard. Somehow there wasn’t much talk about them, though.

“So why meet here?” Zane asked. He looked around the central square of Dead Oak. There wasn’t anyone around. Folks tended to stay inside during the hottest part of the day, which in this season meant most of the time the sun was up.

“Sheriff’s after me.” I nodded to the station. “When a manhunt’s in full force, there’s just one place guaranteed to be just about free of lawmen.”

“Right here.”

“Yup.” I stuck a thumb out and pointed to Josephine’s junkyard a short distance away. “And I got some business.”

“Your skidder’s broke?”

“Something like that.”

He looked back at me. “Where’s the tech, J.D.?”

“I don’t—”

“Tucker got it, didn’t he?”

I didn’t say a word.

Zane climbed in his ride and started floating upward. “Thanks.” He sounded genuine. “For…” He took a fresh cigarette and lit it. “Just, thanks, J.D.”

“Zane,” I said. I took off my hat. Now that he was leaving, something just pulled at me. “Zane, I got a favor to ask.”

That quirk of a smile crossed his face. “Name it.”

“Boy I know disappeared. Brilliant kid named Francis Brown. See if you can find anything on him.” I bit my lip. “If it ain’t too much. Kid’s involved in this somehow, if that makes a difference.”

“It doesn’t.” He sighed. “I’ll look into it, but it won’t be easy. We’re not set up to track down kids, especially those who don’t want to be found.”

“Can you see if he has connections to that Quintech?”

Zane winced. “Goodwin and Quintech aren’t exactly allies. We aren’t really on friendly terms.”

No, they wouldn’t be. “Be creative,” I said.

Zane shook his head. “I’ll see what I can do.” His ride lifted up into the sky and disappeared on the horizon. I watched it go and wondered if there was something more I could do to understand the man. Something in me wished that he understood me.

How could he, though? I hadn’t told Zane the real reason I was in Dead Oak. Truth be told, I was there to finish things. The fight with Green had me on the wrong side of the law, and things were only getting worse. The law was after me, and if I kept running, someone was going to get hurt. Hell, Deputy Green had already done more than his share of suffering. My part in the business was done. Maybe there was a chance that I could convince Trish that I deserved to stay free. It didn’t seem likely, though. She knew I was a good man, but a lawbreaker’s a lawbreaker.

Still, it wouldn’t be honest to leave without helping Ben find his brother. I started strolling over to the junkyard, tapping my earpiece to try to get Ben on the wire.

All I got was noise. It wasn’t the noise of no connection. There was an open sound to it, like wind blowing across an open bottle. The sense I got was one of a silent urgency, like a heart beating faster and faster.

There’s a hell of a lot that this kind of silence can tell a person.

My heart beat faster and I picked up the pace. Something didn’t feel right. The heat of the day was searing and intense, but nobody was around. Nobody. Dead Oak was a small town, but not an empty one. Even in the brutal heat there ought to have been someone around.

That’s when I heard the sharp crack of a rifle.

I broke into a run. There was no doubt that the sound had come from Josephine’s junkyard. Could be she was just up to some target practice. Could be she was doing a little rat hunting.

Something smelled off.

More gunshots rang out as I reached the huge steel doors. I shouldered one, but it didn’t budge. Drawing the tiny pistol, I pounded on the door with my metal fist.

“Jo!” I hollered. “Open up!”

The wall around the junkyard was too slick to climb and too tall to jump. My skidder was back near the old oak in the center of town. It would get over the wall easy, but would it take too long?

A scream came from the other side of the wall.

I stuck my metal fingers forward and jammed them hard between the two doors. Thick steel gave way, and with a grunt I twisted and tore the door open enough to squeeze through.

Something darted past, ducking behind a stack of junk, disappearing before I could properly get a look at it. Moving through the stacks of metal, I kept my gun up and steady. I forced my breathing to slow so I wouldn’t throw off my shot.

A narrow aisle between stacks of junk opened into the main courtyard, and when I got there I could see that the gate on the opposite side of the yard was wide open. There was a coyote there, across the yard, hackles raised. Keith was a few meters away from it, backing slowly away. He had a rifle pointed at the creature. His mouth twisted up in fear as he kept pulling the trigger of his empty gun.

I sighted it in, wide stance, steady grip. It was too far for a proper pistol shot, but if I was careful with my aim, it wasn’t beyond me. I let out a breath halfway, held it, and fired.

Missed.

The coyote turned to me. It fixed its yellow eyes on me. Half of its head shone with polished steel. It wasn’t just a genetic creation. It had been modified. Upgraded.

Keith took advantage of the distraction and ran.

Thundering shots rang out from inside Jo’s shack. The flashes lit up the inside like lightning strikes, illuminating red smears around the door and window.

The coyote ran after Keith.

My hand shook. Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t stop it. I dropped to one knee and let the pistol fall to the ground. The smell of piss and blood baking in the sun hit me hard. It was the smell of war in the desert. The smell of wild animals marking their land. My heart raced and my breath came only in sharp gasps.

All my pain came back at once. My rib, my arm, all of it just ached. It told me to curl up where I was and wait for it to be finished. There wasn’t nothing for me to bring but pain and suffering.

It was only through sheer stubborn willpower that I stood up.

Keith had been unarmed, so I ran after him. My legs pumped with strength I didn’t know I had left. Adrenaline made my ears rush with the pounding of my heartbeat.

His scream pierced the night. I ran right instead of left, circling around a stack of junk. On the way past, I jammed my metal hand into the heap and pulled out a hunk of crumbled steel the size of a football.

The coyote had Keith’s leg in its jaws. Blood sprayed as the creature shook and Keith kicked. He pounded at the coyote with the butt of his rifle, dislodging the jaws in a bloody spray. He staggered back and fell backwards into the piles of junk. The coyote’s gaze locked onto Keith’s neck and its muscles tensed.

I threw the metal. It slammed into the coyote, sending it flying. Keith scrambled backward while I moved in.

The coyote ran away.

Keith sputtered incoherently.

“You good?” I asked.

He nodded and pointed back to the shack. I understood right away and ran, hoping I wasn’t too late.

But I was.

The door of Josephine’s shack hung open, the jamb splintered where the locks had been engaged. There were prints on the ground—reddish brown marks made of blood and mud. I knelt down by one, horrified at what it might mean, but afraid to keep moving. The print was a giant coyote’s, just like the one outside of Underpass. That wasn’t much of a surprise. The coyote I’d fought had been the right size for it. There were at least three sets of tracks, but one was bigger than the others. That one was the bloodiest of the three, by far.

My right eye flashed to life, modifications kicking in and showing me details I’d have missed with unaugmented vision. None of it was useful, as far as I could tell. Just an annoyance. My ear picked up a noise: a sobbing whimper coming from the shack.

The floor was slick with half-dried blood. The smell of blood-mixed-with-shit hit me hard. It stopped me. Stubborn as I was, it stopped me.

The sob came again, off to the right.

I breathed in the stink, forcing myself to be strong against it. Nausea hit, but I ignored it. I forced it down and stepped inside. My boots stuck to the thick blood. There was just so damn much of it. Too much. Could it all be from one person or were both women dead?

Josephine had slid all the way back in the corner, rifle still gripped in one hand. Her belly had been torn open, insides strewn about. One of her legs had been chewed nearly off and the blood still weakly dripped from the wound.

Her eyes moved.

She didn’t exactly focus on me. Her eyes pointed in my general direction.

“Jo,” I said. Setting her gun aside, I took her hand. “I’m sorry, Jo. I’m so sorry, I shoulda—”

Josephine shook her head. Her mouth opened, like she was going to talk, but there weren’t any words. Hell, I don’t even know if her lungs still worked properly. Her hand gripped mine, surprisingly strong. One of her eyes seemed to focus on me for just a second.

“Abi,” I said. “Where’s Abi?”

The mechanic closed her eyes. For a moment I thought I’d lost her, but her grip stayed strong. When she opened her eyes again, they were full of hard determination. She looked at me with both eyes focusing and then looked down at the ground.

There was a trapdoor underneath her.

“Is that where she is? Is she safe?”

In response, Josephine let out one last whimpering sob and slumped to the side. Her eyes stared off into the great beyond, and whatever freakish technology was keeping her alive finally let go. I held her hand a moment longer, trying to find strength in myself that just wasn’t there.

In the end, though, she needed to be moved. I crossed her arms over her chest and dragged her body into the center of the room. With a few quick movements I pulled together the biggest chunks of her and covered the whole mess with a blanket.