Highway To Armageddon (13 page)

           
“Turn right, he’s heading toward Detroit,” Boom Boom says.

           
Pitbull makes a sharp right turn, causing me to bump against his robotic arm.
It’s so cold it almost burns my skin. Pitbull growls and shoves me off of him.
My head bangs against the window. He’s even stronger than he looks (and he
looks pretty strong).

           
I glance at the red GPS signal flashing across the top of my goggles. Remy has
a decent head start, but we’re already catching up.

           
“I knew I saw you kids earlier.” I guess this is Pitbull’s attempt at making
small-talk. “Your disguises are terrible, by the way.”

           
“Yeah, so is yours,” Boom Boom retorts. “He just turned left.”

           
Pitbull makes another sharp turn. I crack my head against the window.
     

           
“By the way, I’m not splitting this bounty three ways,” Pitbull growls. “I get
at least half. Count yourself lucky I’m being that generous.”

           
“Thank you oh so much for your generosity, kind sir,” I say sarcastically.

           
Pitbull growls even louder than before, prompting me to shut up.

           
We fly through the skies of Detroit in relative silence, save for Boom Boom
occasionally saying, “Go left,” or, “Go right.” After about a minute of the
awkward quietness, Pitbull says, “So, uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry to
hear about your uncle. He was a good man… a worthy adversary. I almost
considered coming to the funeral, but… well, you know, I’m not really good in
social gatherings.”

           
My voice cracks as I say, “Thanks.” I decide not to say anything else. I don’t
want to show any emotion around someone as coldblooded as Pitbull. I am stunned
he complimented Dagger, though. It almost means more coming from Pitbull,
someone who at one point hated my uncle, than it does from someone who always
loved him

           
Boom Boom points toward the windshield. “There’s his car, off in the distance.”

           
Pitbull hands me a gun. “Blast the car out of the sky, but don’t kill Remy.”

           
“Duh,” I grumble.

           
 I roll down my window and aim the gun at the back of Remy’s car, which is
now only 200 yards away. I fire my first shot, and Remy’s back windshield
shatters. Remy does a nosedive to get away from us. Pitbull dives after him. I
yank my hand inside the car and grip the dashboard as we plunge into a death
spiral. Remy pulls up 100 feet above the ground and shoots back into the sky.
Pitbull follows suit, snapping my neck back.

           
We’re
now so close I can make out Remy in the front seat. He turns around and fires
off several shots. One of the bullets shatters Pitbull’s front windshield,
showering me in glass. I yelp and duck to the floor as a few more bullets fly
through the car.

           
“Are you okay, Boom Boom?!” I shout.

           
“Yes!” Boom Boom shouts back. I can’t see her, but I’m assuming she’s on the
floor as well.

           
“I’m fine, too, thanks for asking,” Pitbull growls. “Now get your ass back up
here and shoot!”

           
I peek my head over the dashboard. Remy is now weaving through rows of
ginormous, 500-foot tall windmills. Pitbull swerves back and forth, narrowly
avoiding the monstrous whipping blades. I think our mosquito gets eviscerated
by one of the windmills because our connection to it fizzles out. There goes
another twenty grand down the drain.

           
I lean out the window and fire off several more shoots. Most of them miss, but
a couple hit Remy’s wings. Remy continues to fly erratically, narrowly avoiding
windmill propellers. His luck finally runs out when one of the blades slices
his right wing in half. Remy spirals toward the ground, and Pitbull takes us
into another vomit-inducing nosedive.

           
“Pull up, Pitbull! You’re going to crash!” Boom Boom screams.

           
“Shut up, girlie! I know how to fly!”

           
Remy miraculously pulls up just before he would have slammed into the ground.
We pull up with him. Remy glides toward a deserted street and crash-lands next
to a skyscraper. Pitbull lands behind him and we all jump out.

           
Remy stumbles out of his car and fires his gun, forcing us to duck for cover.
Remy starts to run off when another car lands directly in front of him. Remy
slams into the car and falls flat on his back.

           
I run over just as Krystal climbs out of the car.

           
“Where the hell have you been?” I shout as I tackle Remy. His gun flies out of
his hand and slides toward Krystal, who promptly picks it up.

           
“I was watching my stories,” Krystal says, adjusting her lopsided wig. “I
didn’t see your message until a few minutes ago.”

           
“Will someone help?” I shout, struggling to hold Remy as he thrashes around.

           
Pitbull grabs Remy by his throat and lifts him into the air. Remy kicks his
legs and gags.

           
“I said help me hold him down, not choke him to death.”

           
Pitbull growls, but he does allow Remy’s feet to touch the ground.

           
Two other cars land next to us. Five thugs hop out and whip out pistols.

           
“Let Mr. Pelletier go!” one of the thugs shouts, jabbing his gun at Pitbull’s
head.

           
Pitbull releases Remy, who falls to the ground and crawls toward the thugs.

           
“Put your hands up, now!” another thug shouts.

           
Boom Boom, Krystal, and I raise our hands. Pitbull keeps his hands at his
sides.

           
The thug thrusts his gun into Pitbull’s face. “I said put your hands up!”

           
Pitbull mutters obscenities and finally puts them up.

           
Remy clambers to his feet and adjusts his tie. “What are you idiots waiting
for? Shoot them!”

           
The thugs cock their guns. Before they can fire, an arrow whizzes through the
air and hits one of the thugs in the throat. The thug falls to his knees and
gags as blood pours from his wound. He doesn’t suffer long because another
arrow hits him in the head.

           
The thugs spin around and fire in the direction of the arrow. They only get off
a few shots before they’re taken down by a relentless bombardment of arrows and
gunfire. All five thugs collapse to the ground in pools of blood.
           

           
“What the hell just happened?” Krystal shouts.

           
Remy stumbles out into the middle of the road, but another arrow hits him in
the back of his leg. He screams and falls down.

           
A midnight-blue Moon Cruiser XV floats down from the sky. In the driver’s seat
is a middle-aged woman with an eye patch and a heavily scarred face. She’s
clutching a machine gun and smoking a cigar. A belt containing ammunition
cartridges is strapped across her chest. In the passenger’s seat is a tall,
muscular dude with long black hair. He’s holding a bow, and a quiver full of
arrows is strapped to his back.

           
“Machete and Arrow,” I growl. “Why am I not surprised?”

           
The Moon Cruiser lands next to our car. Machete hops out and aims her machine
gun at Remy, who is still crying out over his arrow wound.

           
“Remy Pelletier,” she says in a raspy voice. “We’ve been after your ass for a
long,
long
time. Put him in the car, Arrow.”

           
Arrow grabs Remy by his hair and drags him to their Moon Cruiser. Remy’s wound
leaves a trail of blood as he’s dragged to the car.

           
Pitbull marches up to Arrow. “What do you think you’re doing? Remy’s mine!”

           
Machete jabs her machine gun into Pitbull’s forehead. “Back off, you robotic
freak.”

           
Pitbull steps back. He knows Machete doesn’t play around.

           
“This isn’t fair, Machete!” I shout. “This is the third time in six months
you’ve stolen one of our captures! You never did this when Dagger was alive!”

           
“That’s because I was intimidated by Dagger,” Machete replies curtly. “I’m not,
however, intimidated by you or your ditzy friends.”

           
“Ditzy?” Krystal hollers. “Who you calling Ditzy?”

           
Machete points her gun at Krystal. Krystal gulps and backs off.

           
“Uh, ditzy is cool. I like being ditzy.”

           
Machete turns back to me and says, “There are no rules in the bounty hunting
game. Why should I go through all the trouble of tracking down high-profile
targets when I can let you idiots do all the dirty work and swoop in at the
last minute to steal all the credit? It’s about working smart, not hard.”

           
“Besides, you guys should be thankful we followed you,” Arrow says in his
thick, Cherokee accent. He just finished hog-tying Remy and is now shoving him
into the back of the Moon Cruiser. “If it wasn’t for us you’d be laying in
pools of blood right now.”

           
I try my best to keep my anger in check, but it becomes too overpowering. I
shove Machete in her chest. I must catch her off guard because she nearly falls
over.

           
“I’m tired of this crap, Machete! You’re not doing this to us again! Now give
us back Remy or…”

           
I never finish my ultimatum because Machete kicks me in my throat. I gasp and
crumple to the ground. I can barely breathe, and my eyes water from the
excruciating pain. Boom Boom collapses beside me, gasping as well.

           
I look up and watch as Krystal backs away. “Whoa, no need to kick my ass. I’m
fine with you taking Remy.”

           
Machete reaches for my hair. Arrow shouts, “Mom, knock it off!”

           
Arrow leans down and extends his hand to Boom Boom. Boom Boom grabs it and
gingerly gets to her feet.

           
“You okay, Red?” Arrow asks.

           
“Y… yeah. I am now,” Boom Boom says.

           
I start getting angry again. Like Pitbull, Machete and Arrow have been one of
our biggest competitors in the bounty hunting business. Our paths cross quite
frequently, especially now that Dagger’s gone. Even though I consider them our
enemies, Boom Boom always gets tongue-tied around Arrow. I guess she thinks
he’s hot or something.

           
I stand up and shove Arrow from behind. “Get off of her, slimeball.”

           
Arrow spins around and pulls his arm back.

           
“Arrow, don’t!” Boom Boom pleads.

           
Arrow unclenches his fist. “Seriously, Red, why do you hang out with this
loser? You can do so much better.”

           
“He’s not a loser.” Boom Boom doesn’t sound convincing.

           
Arrow cups Boom Boom’s chin in his hands. “Why don’t you come with us, Red?
Your friends don’t know what they’re doing. They’re always getting you in
trouble. If it wasn’t for me and my mom, you guys would be dead right now.”

           
“Arrow, I…”

           
Boom Boom trails off. It’s almost like she’s thinking about going with them.

           
Machete snatches Arrow by the back of his shirt. “Quit fooling around with that
girl. We need to take Remy to the police station so we can cash in.”

           
Arrow backs away from Boom Boom. “Hit me up if you ever change your mind, Red.
I’d love for us to work together.”

           
Boom Boom actually starts blushing. I can’t believe she has feelings for the
creep.

           
Pitbull cocks his gun. “You know what? You guys can have Remy. I’ll just take
these three and turn them over to Caesar. That’ll give me enough money to
retire from this godforsaken profession.”

           
Arrow points one of his arrows at Pitbull’s throat. Machete ups the ante by
placing the muzzle of her machine gun against his forehead.

           
“I don’t think so, Pitbull. Why don’t you get in your car and take a hike?”

           
Pitbull’s entire body quivers in anger, but he knows Machete will blow his
brains out if he doesn’t do what she says. He storms over to his sports car and
takes off.

           
Machete sneers at me. “This is the second time in two minutes we’ve saved your
hides. Where’s the gratitude?”

           
Massaging my throat, I grumble, “I’ll be sure to send you a thank-you card.”

           
Machete jabs me in the chest. “By the way, you kids need to watch it. I’ve been
hearing a lot of people openly discuss going after you three and handing you
over to Caesar. I definitely don’t want that to happen. Who else am I going to
steal prey from?”

           
Part of me is pissed at Machete for stealing our capture, but another part
realizes she could easily incapacitate all three of us and take us to Caesar
herself. She’d make more money off of us than she would if she took down the
ten most wanted fugitives in America. She may still be scum, but she’s not as
scummy as most people.