Wasteland Rules: Kill or Be Killed (The World After Book 1) (18 page)

  The last two road warrior vehicles were SUVs with
armor welded on to them. One had a large ram on the front and had oversize
wheels. The other was a little longer and had caging in the back. Looking
closely he could see dogs move around in the cage. Neither of those vehicles
was visibly armed, but both had Confederate flag stickers on the bumpers. Large
CB antennas sprung up from all of the vehicles, and all four vehicles had bullet
marks and scorch damage and showed signs of constant repairs.

  The crew that got out of them was equally
colorful. Both men and women got out of or off of the various vehicles. They
were all dressed in denim clothing with various pieces of armor over top. The
armor ranged from bulletproof vests to what looked like modified football pads.
They were apparently sticking with the redneck road warrior theme. All of their
gear was patched and worn, but mostly clean, which surprised Mark. Most of them
had mullets and many of them had dyed their hair bright colors. All the men had
sideburns and were rough shaven. The women all wore knee high boots and some
weren’t wearing very much clothing. Tattoos covered everyone’s exposed skin and
most had multiple piercings. All of them were heavily armed and wore black
bandannas facing forwards around their necks.

  The hillbillies formed a semi-circle facing the
golden armored Humek. There were ten of them altogether, seven men and three
women. All of them had their hands on their guns and were assuming tough poses
and looks. The Humek looked totally unconcerned and Mark knew why, the thing
had wiped out a small army of professional soldiers without breaking a sweat.
Whoever these clowns were, they didn’t pose a threat. Laughing to himself at
the spectacle, Mark engaged the laser mike and listened in.

  “Are you the one offering the bounty?” The redneck
leader, a tall man with long blond hair, asked the cyborg.

  “Yes, but let’s wait for the rest of bounty
hunters to arrive before I give the details.” He replied.

  The redneck leader laughed. “No one else is
coming. We’s the Buckwald family and this here is our territory. We the only
ones who hunt here.” He announced thumping his chest. The others voiced their
agreement and nodded their heads vigorously.

  “I see…then I suppose you have the contract.” The
Humek agreed. “I want you to hunt down a man and a woman who fled from here
approximately three hours ago. Bring me their bodies and EVERYTHING they have
on them. If anything is missing I won’t pay the bounty.”

  “Are you questionin’ our ‘tegrity mister?” One of
the followers demanded in a deep southern accent as the others bristled.

  “If you mean
in
tegrity, then yes I am. I
can see your records, Otis Buckwald, and I know all about your stealing,
moonshining, and drug charges. You are all hillbilly scum and your kind is a
blight on this planet. But I am need of your services, so you will have to do.”
The cyborg informed them coldly.

  Incensed at being insulted, several of the men and
one of the women started to pull their guns; but the leader stopped them with a
raised hand. All of the bounty hunters were visibly angry and were muttering
amongst themselves. The leader glanced around and gestured almost imperceptibly
with his head. As the others noticed the dead bodies and burnt gunships they
fell silent and eyed the cyborg with a small amount of nervousness. Of course
the Humek seemed unconcerned and just stared at the leader. Mark could see him
wilt under the intense stare.

  “Okay, we’s ‘ll find your’n runners for you. But
you need to show some respect.” He replied unconvincingly, but trying to save
face.

  “Right…”The cyborg answered. “Find them and bring
them and their belongings to Jonesboro. Fail me and you will regret it.”

  “Which way did they go?” One of the women asked.

  “Isn’t that your job?” The cyborg replied almost
sarcastically. Mark wasn’t aware they had a sense of humor though.

  The Humek turned and got into the van, leaving the
rednecks standing there with their mouth’s hanging open. Although that could be
their normal state Mark joked to himself. The van left and headed towards
Jonesboro. He could see the bounty hunters start looking around. They looted
the bodies of the dead soldiers. Mark knew that was wasteland protocol but he
still thought they were vultures. He watched them get the dogs out and begin
searching the facility for a clue to where their prey had gone.

  Normally he would have been worried, but the suit
masked any odor he might be giving off. Mark was starting to cramp from being
in the tower this long, but he would just have to suck it up and wait. For the
next hour or so the bounty hunters roamed the facility. While he waited he
called up the files on these clowns using subvocalized command to the HUD.

  They were collectively known as the Buckwald
family. All of them were related, but the files seemed vague in some cases on
exactly how. Sisters, brothers, cousins, uncle-brothers, etc. Before the
Collapse the family was always in trouble with the law for various petty crimes
and fights. None of them had any real formal education and some of them were
too young to even have been to a grade school. They were listed as bounty
hunters by the Brotherhood of Justice and had an impressive record of bounties.
Maybe they weren’t as clownish as they looked. Finally, they gathered around
their vehicles.  He listened in on their conversation.

  “The dogs tracked them into the wastes heading
North, do you want to follow them on foot?” A spiky blue haired man asked the
leader.

  Before he could answer, one of the other men
chimed in. “They are probably heading for Ozzie’s. That’s the only thing in
that direction. They could probably pick up a car there.”

  “Mount up! Let’s go git those runners!” The leader
yelled.

  The rednecks scrambled into or onto their vehicles
and headed off in the direction that the Major and his companion had taken. Mark
slithered down the tower and spent a few minutes stretching and massaging his
cramped muscles. He took a second to send a burst message reporting his
findings so far. Then he made his way to his hidden bike and left in pursuit of
the hooting and hollering bounty hunters.

June 13, 2029

Near Jonesboro, Arkansas

  They had made it about eight miles before Rora had
started wear out. Derek had taken her backpack to lighten the load but she was
moving slower and slower. Her feet were starting to drag and she was visibly
hunched over. He had made sure they took breaks and drank plenty of water. Dehydration
could kill you faster than a bullet in the wastelands. But, she was just not
used to the physical demands of surviving in the wastelands. Rora and her
father had lived in an isolated and relatively safe enclave her entire life.
There was no way they could make the Express Station before dark or without
stopping for a while.

  Derek knew there would be pursuers. Who or what
they would be he didn’t know, but someone would be coming for the device. Right
now though, he was more concerned about the wild dogs that were shadowing them.
Millions of pets had been let loose by their owners during the Collapse. Unable
to feed them and unwilling to kill them, they had just turned them out to fend
for themselves. Cats and dogs had adapted well to the new world; able to hunt
for food and intelligent enough to use human structures for shelter, their
numbers had not dwindled as much as the human population. In many places they
were the apex predators.

  Worse still, many of them had grown to the size of
their environment. Affected by the chemicals, radiation, and a large supply of
fresh meat; they had physically grown larger and become more aggressive. Most
of the surviving pets had interbred and their offspring had become vicious
mutant mongrels as large as a small man. Packs of the mutant dogs roamed the
wastes picking off solo travelers and even attacking small groups. Packs had
been known to attack small villages and drag off little children.

  The pack shadowing them numbered at least seven
and they were getting closer. He could hear their cries to each other as they
took turns approaching and then circling away from them. He glanced at Rora and
waved her to a stop. She collapsed on the ground and her eyes threatened to
roll back into her head. Derek gave her water, but she barely remained
conscious. They would have to stop and rest, but that would just encourage the
pack to attack them and allow and pursuers to catch up with them. He needed
another plan.

  Just then, the earpiece hissed to life. “Major.
There are six vehicles heading towards your position. They will be there in
fifteen minutes. You need to hide.”

  “How did the Collective find us? I thought the
device would prevent that?” Derek asked exhaustedly.

  “They aren’t Collective. It looks like bounty hunters…”

  Derek groaned. If the cyborg couldn’t see them, of
course he would hire someone who could. He certainly hadn’t been shy about
doing so in the past, apparently sending a steady stream of wasteland scum
after them. Six vehicles would be too many people for Derek to fight alone,
especially if the vehicles were armed. Where could they hide? Then it hit him.

  “Come on.” He said to Rora and dragged her to her
feet. ”We need to find a hiding place.”

  “Where can we go?” She asked, barely coherent.

  Derek laughed. “We need to think like dogs.”

  “Hunh?”

  “The pack of dogs that has been following us for
the last couple of hours must have a den nearby along with a source of water.
It’s the perfect hiding place. Even if our pursuers have hunting dogs, the wild
dogs’ scent will confuse them. We can stay there overnight and start out early
in the morning when you have recovered.”

  “How do we find their den?”

  “Easy, we let them lead us to it…”

  With that Derek drew his pistol and fired at the
two dogs currently visible. He didn’t kill either one, but he wasn’t trying to.
Both were wounded and ran off howling in pain. He dragged Rora over to the spot
he had shot them and found the blood trail. With Rora in one hand and the
shotgun in the other, Derek quickly followed the wounded dogs. He lost the
trail once, but his keen eyesight enabled him to pick it back up again.

  “Hurry up Major, they are getting very close.” The
voice hissed in his ear urgently.

  The two wounded dogs noticed Derek and Rora following
them and split up, heading off in different directions. But Derek had spotted
their den. There was a small mound of boulders in amongst some scrub just a
short distance away. He could just make a small opening on the ground. That
must be it. He picked Rora up and carried her along with all the packs and
gear. Adrenaline gave him the strength to hurry across the last few yards and
drop down at the entrance.

  He could see the dust clouds generated by the
oncoming vehicles getting closer and closer. Hoping that none of the dogs was
inside he shoved Rora through the small opening and forced the gear and packs
through after her. He followed her through but got stuck. A moment of frantic
wiggling ensued before he popped free into the den and looked around. The
inside was surprisingly roomy. The dogs had obviously dug out and expanded an
existing natural enclosure. The den was full of bones, mostly animal, but some
human. He hoped Rora didn’t notice that.

  Derek heard the squeal of tires as the vehicles
came to a stop nearby. There was shouting, lots of barking, gunfire, and then
silence. He glanced at Rora to tell her to be quiet, but she had already passed
out. Outside the den their pursuers were making a racket as they collected the
dead dogs. He heard the sounds of dogs snuffling around and the chatter of the
hunters as they searched the area. He was pretty sure the scents from the wild
dogs would cover up his and Rora’s. That lasted for about fifteen minutes or so
before they apparently gave up and got back in their vehicles. The last sound
he heard from them was the roar of their engines as they sped off.

  He let Rora rest for another couple of hours while
he guarded the entrance to the den, but nothing disturbed them. He crawled out
and had a quick look around. There were no dead dogs present, but there was
plenty of blood to indicate they had all been killed. The hillbillies must have
taken them for the meat. Derek hoped it was for their dogs, but that seemed
ironically wrong as well. The sun was starting to fall in the sky and he knew
they couldn’t be out after dark because the temperature drop might kill them.

 So he crawled back in and roused Rora. She was
barely functional but he forced her to crawl out and start walking. They had
limited time before nightfall and at some point the hunters would find them.
They needed a ride and to get as far from here as possible. Derek had carried
all of the gear to give her a break, but Rora had just walked slower and
slower. He decided to go ahead without her and come back for her. He left most
of the gear with her and headed out towards the Express Station.

  Without the weight of the gear and without Rora to
slow him down Derek became impatient and broke into a jog. He covered the rest
of the distance to the Express Station quickly, running full out as he warmed
up. He had worked up a light sweat by the time the old gas station came in to
view. Derek stopped and took a second to catch his breath. Unslinging the M-14
from his back he peered through the scope at the building. The station was
small, only one building that combined the office and a one car garage. A small
shed was out back along with three beat up junkers. A single pump sat in front
of the station. The whole yard was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with
barbed wire.

  In the afternoon sun he could see an armed man on
the roof of the station. Based on the man’s appearance, Derek knew it was one
of the bounty hunters. Taking a minute to steady his aim and focus his
breathing, Derek dropped the man with one shot. The bounty hunter’s head
exploding as the heavy 7.62 mm round took him in the face. No one else reacted
to the sound of the shot; so he approached carefully, slinging the M-14 over
his back and readying the M4F3 Carbine.

  Derek methodically cleared the yard around the
station, his old instincts kicking in. It turned out to be clear, there were no
more hunters and no sign of anyone else. He burst through the door of the
office and found the owner huddled under the desk, cowering in fear. The owner
was a fat middle aged man missing most of his teeth and dressed in dirty
coveralls and seemingly little else. A dirty, blue Amoco ball cap was shoved
over stringy, greasy blond hair and a black bandanna was shoved in his back
pocket.

  “Please don’t hurt me.” The man begged.

  Derek raised his rifle. “I’m not going to hurt
you. I only have a beef with the bounty hunters that are after me.”

  “They forced me to let one of them on the roof…I
don’t have anything to do with them.” The man whined.

  “I just need a ride. Do those junk heaps out back
run?”

 “The pickup does, but if they find out I helped you
they will kill me.”

  “We can make it look like I beat you up and then
tied you up and took the truck.”

  “I don’t know, what if they find you and you tell
them?”

  “Is there a way to short cut out of the county
heading East? A back road no one uses?”

  “Well, there is a railroad track you could drive
down. You can get on it in an abandoned town that the track runs through. The
town and the line were abandoned when the mine played out in 1949. There is a
dirt road that leads to it that isn’t on a map. That might work.”

  “Perfect, how do I get there?”

  “I’ll draw you a map. It’s not that far from
here.”

  “How much for the pickup?” Derek asked cautiously.

  “You got cash?” The man asked with a greedy gleam
in his eyes.

  “Yes, $300 NRD enough?”

  “I’m thinking $600, $400 for the car and $200 for
my troubles.” The owner said slyly.

  “Fine.” Derek replied with a resigned voice.

  He hated to lose the cash but they needed the
ride. Amazing how the thought of cash had removed all the man’s fear. Derek
counted out the cash and put it on the table. The man snatched it up quickly
like a snake striking a mouse. Derek rolled his eyes while the man counted it
again with a big smile on his face.

  “I’ll get the keys and meet you around back.” The
man informed him.

  “I’m going to check the man on the roof and then
I’ll come get the keys from you. Remember, I need to make it look like I stole
the truck.”

 “Right, I forgot about that.” The station owner
replied with a downcast look on his face. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

  “Just think about the $200 for your troubles.”
Derek called back over his shoulder.

  He went to the side of the building and climbed up
the ladder to the roof. The roof was a flat tin roof with a low wall around it.
The only two things on the roof were a large CB antenna and the body of the
bounty hunter. The bounty hunter was sprawled in a pool of blood, a scoped
hunting rifle still clutched in his hands. Derek walked over to make sure the
man was dead and see what he could scavenge.

  He took the man’s water, any extra ammo, and a
large hunting knife; but he left the hunting rifle. That was too much to carry
and he already had the M-14. The bounty hunter wasn’t carrying much other than
his weapons and light armor. The armor was homemade and probably wouldn’t fit,
plus it smelled, so Derek left that. The black bandanna around the man’s neck
smelled just as bad so he left that too. He left the body on the roof and
climbed back down.

  Entering the office he grabbed the keys from the
owner and then tied him to a chair. A few light blows later the man looked like
Derek had roughed him up and taken the keys from him. Derek smiled at the man
and thanked him as he left. The owner was too busy moaning to respond. Maybe
Derek had hit him a little harder than he needed to, but it had to look good.
Especially for $200. He hopped into the rusty old pickup and was satisfied when
the engine did turn over. He slipped it into drive and headed back for Rora.