Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (5 page)

The long, battered rifle slung over the man's shoulder swung around as he helped Daniel to his feet, and the man grabbed the sling to pull it back. They were in a small clearing, nothing like the place Daniel remembered falling from. But, of course, he must have fallen to the bottom of the cliff. His jumpsuit was scratched and scraped, the helmet gone, and blood oozed from long gashes in the skin beneath. Nothing serious, but what kind of diseases could he catch there? His wrists were untied, but raw, deep, red lines circled them where the cords had been.

“Is that a real gun?”

Normally the sight of a gun, even in the hands of the State Militia, would be enough to trigger him to quiver in fear. But now, in this place, it almost seemed comforting.

“Of course it's a real gun. Why the fuck would I carry a fake gun around? These things are heavy.”

The man pulled open his pack, and pulled a glass jar full of green goo. He unscrewed the lid. “I'd better clean up that crap.”

“I'm fine.”

The man pulled a scrap of cloth from his pack, and smeared the goo over it. “You've been cut up. If I don't clean it out, you'll be cutting bits off in a few days, when they rot.”

Daniel glanced down at one of the cuts. It was smeared with dirt and... who knows what. He nodded. Maybe not everyone on Hades was a monster. He had to trust someone, eventually.

“Who are you?”

The man leaned closer, and smeared the goo along Daniel's cuts. “Name’s Guy. I was passing by, thought you might need some help. Of course, then you went and rolled down the cliff. I found you at the bottom, and dragged you away.”

A drone buzzed around them. Then another zoomed down from above, flying straight toward it. The first drone dodged away, and the other followed it, chasing it toward the trees.

Daniel winced as the goo sizzled. “I can look after myself.”

“Didn't look like you were doing a very good job of it. You got any weapons hidden in those matchstick arms of yours? Any unarmed combat training? Some crazed killer instinct that I didn’t see?”

Daniel shook his head. The closest he had come to combat was fighting for toys at EdCamp. And, these days, even the younger kids were strong enough to beat him up.

Guy put the goo away. “You know who survives here? The men who don’t care who, what or how many they have to kill to stay alive. You won’t last a day on Hades without someone to show you the ropes, and stop you doing something stupid.”

“You don't have a Code Of Conduct?”

“Yeah. It’s called ‘fuck you all’.”

“No Safe Spaces?”

“Only safe space here is in your grave.”

Faint yells and screams, male and female, filled the night around them. Daniel stared into the woods, but could see little beyond the flickering glow from the small fire. “Who's that?”

“The ones that don't have someone to help.”

At least he was better off than they were. So far.

Something was burning over the fire, supported by thin, bent twigs. Something small, pink, and hairless. Daniel leaned closer, and sniffed. Smelled like burning meat, and it was going brown around the edges. Saliva oozed into his mouth, then his stomach rumbled, and twisted in his guts. The sky was dark, and the clearing lit only by the flames. He must have been out for hours. He last ate just before his tribunal, which would have been at least half a day in his time, and months in real time.

“Hungry?” Guy said. He grabbed a bone with a chunk of meat from the thing, tore it away, then tossed it to Daniel.

Daniel raised his hand to grab the leg. It flew past his outstretched fingers, and tumbled into the dirt beyond.

“Sorry,” Guy said. “Gravity is different here. You get used to it after a while.”

Daniel tried to stand, but a pain stabbed his skull before he even rose to his knees. He must have hit his head when he fell. He slumped down again, reached out and grabbed the leg.

“What is this?”

Guy nodded toward a long-eared furry creature that sat on a rock nearby, watching them as it chewed plants. “They call them rabbits, because of the long ears. Don’t look much like rabbits, to me. And they taste like shit.”

Daniel held the leg away from him. “It’s part of an animal?”

“We don’t have meat vats here. This meat grows by itself, and runs around. Easier, really, you just catch it and eat it.”

“What killed it?”

Guy chuckled. “I did, kid.”

“How could you kill an animal to eat it?”

“Get hungry enough, and you will, too. You won’t last long here if you can’t even kill a rabbit.”

The leg was pink, red and brown, and dripping goo down Daniel’s fingers. It smelled kind of like burned chicken. But it had been... alive. Not grown in a vat. This things was part of an animal that had been running around the woods not long ago. Just the thought of eating something that was once alive made his stomach churn.

And remember. Don't trust anyone. It could be poisoned.

“What did they send you here for?”

“Kid, the first thing you better learn is never to ask that question. None of that matters any more. You’re here for the rest of your life, however short that might be, and most people have done far worse here than they ever did back home.”

Or maybe it was just a joke. Make the newbie eat crap.

Guy tore another leg from the creature, and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed rapidly, and gulped it down. He nodded and smirked, then held up his thumb. “Yum.”

Or not. Of course they wouldn’t have meat vats here. The only technology on Hades came from back home, and the World State wouldn’t have sent machines to keep them fed.

Watching them fight each other, and the animals, for food would be much more fun.

Daniel opened his mouth and took a bite, then chewed. Hungrily at first, then... he stopped. Guy was right. It really did taste like shit. He closed his eyes, tried to ignore the stodgy, slimy, bitter taste of the meat, and swallowed it in one gulp. The aftertaste still filled his mouth as he ripped more meat from the bone. Had he ever tasted anything worse? There was that time when the meat vats malfunctioned and the meat had rotted before it reached them, but even that hadn’t tasted as bad as this.

Or was it just because his guts hadn’t had any real food for the months he was fed through the tubes in the pod?

His stomach churned. Oh, crap. It jerked, and something began to rise up his throat. He gulped, trying to force it back down, but it wasn’t stopping.

He turned from the fire, dropped the leg, and lunged toward the nearest tree. He leaned against it and bent forward. Just in time. The meat came back out of his mouth, and splattered across the plants. His stomach jerked again, and bile followed. Then he leaned there for a moment, breathing deeply, before he wiped his mouth clean and stood up.

“You’ll get used to it,” Guy said as he tore a chunk of meat from the side of the creature, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Body doesn’t like it at first. Something to do with the amino acids, I gather. That’s why some prefer eating men.”

“Men?”

“Mostly men. Sometimes women. On special occasions.”

Daniel's stomach turned over again. How could anyone eat another person? Cut away pieces of their flesh, and toss it in a pot? His stomach churned again. What if that was human meat he’d eaten just now?

No, surely it would taste better?

He backed away from Guy. Was that his plan? Catch him, keep him around for a while, then kill him for food?

“Did you ever do that?”

Guy shoved more meat into his mouth. “Slavers sold me to the mines years ago,” he mumbled around it. “You go in fit, and come out in the pot when you can't work no more. Didn't have much choice.”

Daniel imagined his head floating in a pot of boiling water as Guy stirred He shivered. The thought alone was triggering him. He’d always felt secure around the cultural diversity back home, but that... it was extreme.

“You could have refused.”

“When you’re hungry enough, you won’t just eat it, you’ll look forward to your next meal.”

Guy stared into Daniel’s eyes for a moment. “Don’t worry. I don’t do that any more.”

“I sure hope not.”

Guy smirked, then winked. “Not often, anyway.”

R
ed sniffed hard, and savoured the smell of roasting meat, cooking in its own fat on a grille they'd salvaged from one of the pods, then placed over the fire to protect the meat from the flames. He hadn’t had a proper meal in months, since the shinies they earned last year ran out. After that, they’d made do with whatever they could hunt or steal, and the fresh roast smell filled his mouth with saliva. The hounds howled, and strained against the leashes that tied them to the trunk of a tree at the far end of the clearing, as they tried to reach the meat.

Slaphead strode past them, and slumped down by the fire, in a gap between the other hunters waiting for their meal. The flames reflected from the bare, rain-splattered skin of his shaved scalp, and he held out his hands to warm them.

“The kid killed Hairy.”

“The kid who ran off?” Red said.

“What other kid did you think I meant?”

“How'd that wimp manage that?”

“Impaled him on a tree, then shot him.”

“Where'd the kid get a gun?” None of the
Meat Packers
had guns. Bows, yeah, but guns cost a ton of shinies, and so did the black powder to fire them. And no-one could bring one to Hades in their pod. Unless he knew someone who could hide one there. And who'd risk being Condemned for doing that?

“Maybe he impaled Hairy, and someone else shot him. Or maybe someone else impaled him, then gave the kid a gun, and he shot him. Who cares? Hairy's got a hole in his head, and a tree through his guts. He's not gonna tell us.”

“Little ssshit.”

“Still,” Maggot said, as he picked at his teeth with a bone, “if Hairy had been watching what he was doing, the kid wouldn't have got away, and he wouldn't have got killed chasing him. It's all his own fault, when you think about it.”

“Ssstill didn't dessserve to go like that.” Red glanced toward Slaphead. “Did you cut him down?”

“Too much like hard work. He must be twenty metres in the air. But we set the tree on fire.”

“Should have brought him back and cooked him here,” Stubby said. “Man had no fat on him, would have made a nice, lean roast.”

Slaphead snickered. “He should be roasted pretty well by now, if you want some.”

“Rats are probably chewing on him.”

The fat man hung naked from a tree at the edge of the clearing, cords tied from his wrists to the branch above him, and feet dangling just above the ground. He groaned behind his gag, and the branch creaked as he slowly twisted. Blood dripped down his calves from where Stubby had sliced cuts from his thighs, before he chucked them on the fire. No point killing him now, when they could keep the meat fresh a few days until he died from loss of blood.

“How’s it cooking?”

Red grabbed a twig and pushed it into the fire, flipping over the meat on the grille. It sizzled as it turned, and the fire flared up as hot fat dripped onto the ashes.

“Ssstill red in the middle.”

Slaphead prodded it from his side. “I like it bloody.”

Twigs cracked in the trees. Moonlight reflected from two eyes that flicked from side to side. Then Snake crept out, his gaze still panning across the clearing as he approached them.

“Someone got Sparky.”

“Him too? How'd they manage that?”

“Hard to tell.”

“How could you not tell how they killed him?”

A drone buzzed around Snake’s face, recording him until he swatted it away. It smacked into the fire, scattering ashes across the dirt, then whirred as it rose into the air, trailing sparks.

“They took his clothes, and skinned him. And something had chewed on him after that, so how the fuck would I tell how he died? And...”

The words faded away as Snake stared into the fire.

“And what?”

“They cut off his dick and balls, and shoved them in his ass.”

Red peered into the trees. If they’d done that to Sparky, they could be planning to attack the rest of the
Meat Packers
. He and Sparky had never really got along, particularly after Red took over, but if some bastard would do that to one furry, they'd do it to more. Only the faintest hint of firelight penetrated the gloom in the woods, where nothing moved larger than a bug.

“What kind of sssick fuck would do that?”

The hounds howled again. The fat man yelled as Stubby sliced another thin cut from his thigh, then tossed it toward them. They lunged forward and fought for it, teeth clashing until the biggest one gulped it down.

“Hey,” Red yelled. “I don’t want them getting a tassste for usss. Give them the local ssshit.”

Snake pulled out his knife. “Dunno who killed Sparky. But, if I ever find out, I'm gonna skin him alive. Nice and slow.”

“You’ll have plenty of help.”

Snake sat by the fire, but his eyes stared past the other hunters, into the trees. “So how many did we lose?”

“I make sssix so far. We'll have to recruit before next year.”

“Plenty in Kingston who'd love to join the
Meat Packers
.”

“Lost three or four hounds, too,” Slaphead said.

“We’ve got time to catch sssome, and train them.”

“We should have kept the girls,” Stubby said, sighed, and rubbed his crotch. “I don't remember the last time I had a girl.”

“We need the ssshiniesss.”

“You just didn't want us having any fun, after that little bitch burst your balls.”

Which was true. Why should he have to sit there and watch the others have their fun with the fresh meat, when he wasn't getting any?

And his balls still ached. Not the kind of all-encompassing
wish-I-was-dead
pain he’d felt right after she kneed him, but constant, dull throbbing that had better go away soon, or they might not work any more. When he got to Kingston, he was getting a codpiece made, to ensure that never happened again.

But he should have kept her. A nice bit of torture could have made up for the pain, and sent a message to any other girls who decided to mess with the
Meat Packers
in future. At least the ones who saw the recordings, back home.