The Pack-Retribution (21 page)

“Humph, takes a lot more than that to kill me. How did you make it out if your suit didn’t work?”

“I had to go there. Deep, and pull out the—”

“Your power.” He nodded. “I guess you could since your suit wasn’t working to compress the energy back within your body. But Shamira, you have to be careful tapping into that strength. We made the decision for you to get the suit on to protect you, but if you tap into that anomaly that was created when they brought you back to life you could…”

Shamira sighed. “Kill myself. I know, I can control it, Dad. But sometimes it teases me, when I’m angry or upset. I want to be free—it wants to be free.” She reached out and took his hand. “Besides, I had no choice. I had to save my brothers and sisters—you and Mom. Had to…”

“I know. I know, you love us too much. Even at risk to yourself. But Shamira, it’s okay, to love others too.” He gave her that look of understanding. Like he knew about her and Valens, and she so didn’t want to go there with him. Not now or probably ever.

“Dad, I, uh…”

“I know about you and Valens. Something is wrong between you. Don’t let what’s happening ruin what you have with one another. Not many kids have that depth between them. It’s a gift with a job a life like this. And I see in you and him something that could last—something that could be great. Better than what the Force could ever be to you.”

“I can’t talk about that now. I have to know…did Cal talk to you about his suspicions? Why he wanted our final training session to be at the Mons?”

Her father shook his head. “We talked briefly, but nothing substantial. I’d have to think back over it.”

The guard opened the door. “Special Nobels, the nurse is coming in to give you your dosage. We have to ask your guest to leave.” The guard entered with the nurse in tow.

Her father waved them in. “Come back and see me, we’ll talk more about it. This medicine’s got me forgetful, but I know it’s something. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” She frowned at his answer. Planting a kiss on his forehead, she sent a wry smile his way. He was holding something back, she could tell. But what she’d have to wait to find out later.

Chapter 32

Shamira had made up her mind. She had to get some leads on Snake. The girl they questioned told them that Freaksheep hung out on Sector 1 in the fiend pits to recruit. Shamira hoped she could follow him, maybe get some information. She had to find out who put the hit out on her, who was starting a possible copycat drug gang to Monev and who she had to kill in order to get them to back off.

She walked in haste to her motorcycle. Hearing rapid footsteps behind her she stopped short.

“Glad I caught up to you,” Kurt said.

Every time she looked at him, she felt indebted. He’d saved her life once. For that she’d always be his friend, and couldn’t bring herself to totally shut him out. “What’s up? I’m in a hurry.”

“I got a lead for you—us.” His almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

“Lead for what?” She held her tongue before she blurted out that he wasn’t welcomed to go with her.

“On Snake. The girl said something about Freaksheep and Snake picking up people at the fiend pits. I know what Snake looks like, and I know how to track him. The hangout she talked about, I hit the streets—did some research and found out exactly where it’s located.”

Shamira folded her arms, a bit elated that he’d done the hard work of finding the location of where she hoped to find the two degenerates. “Where is it?”

He smirked, an expression rare on his usually serious face. “You know I’m not going to tell you. But you can go with me. The others are hitting the streets trying to find out if there is a new drug in town. Monev usually introduces a new product as a tease, before they start major production.”

“Fine, you got me. Let’s go.” She pivoted and led the way to the elevator.

“So, what you driving these days? I heard Pearl got pretty beat up when your house collapsed.” He followed her onto the elevator.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” She slid a glance at him and tapped the floor.

He smirked. “You know I don’t talk much.”

She nodded her affirmation. “Definitely don’t. That’s what I used to like about you.”

“What you saying? I’m talking too much for you now?” He led the way out of the elevator to the concrete garage and pointed to his motorcycle. “I’m parked by the window. Where are you?”

“I’m driving Cal’s motorcycle.”

A brief look of shock marred his expression. “His squad cycle,” he said quietly.

“No, his personal one. It’s black; the helmet is black and gold. I’ll meet you at the exit to the garage.” Her lips thinned making obvious her resistance to share more.

After a brief stare, he nodded and walked to his ride.

A few minutes later, while driving behind Kurt, she ran over the unanswered questions. If Cal figured someone was setting up a copycat crime organization, why didn’t he tell more people? He was the head of Mars Security Force; he had a ton of people at his disposal. If this Snake, a former Monev assassin, was after her, what did she have that he wanted? She did remember when she destroyed the Mons and had her confrontation with Tiger after she rescued David, Tiger told her there was a price on her head. That Renu called out a hit on her. But if he was dead, and Monev destroyed, who would pay the hit men? Who was driving the vendetta?

She growled. Fiend pit? What the heck was a fiend pit anyway? Monev was known for gaming hells where they sold a drug called scream that gave the players and edge—a high. For the rest of the poor people who couldn’t afford the gaming they sold dream, a drug that was like a hallucinogenic, but the user got to pick the trip they took. That’s why the drug did so well, because the addict actually believed they had control since they decided where the crazy trip the drug would take them on for their high.

The dry terrain of Mars passed by her in a blur as the road got rocky at their approach to the city of Sector 1. She was confident they’d get more answers. If anyone would know about Snake, it was Kurt or maybe Dion. Kurt was a more mature Assassin, and had been a captive of Monev longer than Dion. What she remembered of Kurt’s story was that he was on his way to his final mission to prove himself worthy to stay alive within the organization. Instead of fighting it out to the death, he’d sneaked away and joined up with them.

Kurt slowed, his signal pointing left, and cut down one of the seedy areas of Sector 1. The street cleaner androids never visited this area, mainly because they’d been stolen or dismembered for their parts. They drove by deserted building after building, and Shamira’s anxious fingers tightened around the handles of her ride.

The place Snake and Freaksheep did their recruiting was an abandoned building where kids and homeless adults hung out. Several teenagers were scattered outside of the tall, imposing stucco building. Some were smoking cigarettes, others were just watchful. Kurt pulled around the side of the building and parked his cycle.

Shamira saved the location in the computer on her helmet and locked up the bike to follow Kurt.

“You know anybody here?” Shamira flexed her fingers on her gloved hand.

“I do, but I told them not to be here tonight.” Kurt cut a glance at Shamira and waved her to walk closer with him. He uncharacteristically put his arm around her, then whispered, “Pretend we are together.”

She nodded absently as she observed kids talking, making out, and smoking. Young kids darted in and out of the doorway that was partially boarded up, while she and Kurt navigated around them to get in. Shamira almost gagged at the odor inside. The windows were boarded up and there was an open fire in the middle of the room, which cast a haunting glow on the concrete walls of the destroyed building.

“What is this place?” She swallowed down the putrid stink around her.

“A place where the homeless crash, and you can get some dream-ash if you ask the right questions.” He pulled her with his gloved hand.

“I can’t believe he recruits assassins here? There are mostly kids here! And the adults look,” she peered closer, deep within a sleeping man on the dirt-filled floor. He had a blue residue in his chest, like a blue smoke was trapped within, “drugged.”

Kurt grunted. “Are you surprised? People want to get high…someone just found a way to help them—the way of the world. We fight it, and the fools choose it over life.”

She looked around, eyeing every corner of the large room that had a faint sound of music playing as it warred with the howling wind from outside. “Who are you looking for?”

“Snake,” he spat.

Shamira inhaled deeply, her eyes landing on a familiar face. “Over there.” She tilted her head to the left. “That’s Freaksheep.”

“How do you know?” Kurt answered, skeptical.

Shamira shrugged. “I was tracking him yesterday. He works with Snake. I know it.”

“I bet he does, Keeper does the killing and Snake points out the hits.” Kurt tugged at her jacket, leading her between the scattered crush of people.

They leaned on the wall for several moments, watching Freaksheep and the others, while he spoke to a few kids, young ones and teens, who stood around. Passing of blue filtered cigarettes made its way around the room. Shamira followed the distribution of the drug and realized that it zigzagged but started near Freaksheep.

“He’s recruiting. Look, see what he did with that kid over there?” Kurt directed his stare.

“Oh, I got it, he gives them a signal and sends them out the back door.” She tilted her chin. “The young ones through the broken window. What’s with the blue smoke coming out of the cigarettes?”

“It’s called dream-ash. By-product of dream. I guess someone collected remains from when we blew up the Mons and is pushing a new product.” Kurt shook his head, watching another kid crawl out the broken window behind Freaksheep. “Sick bastard. I bet Snake’s close by. We better track him. Once he’s out of here, I bet he moves fast.” He started to walk toward Freaksheep who appeared to be leaving.

She followed, ready for a confrontation. Walking through the crush of people, Shamira couldn’t help but hold her nose. The smell from the tiny cigarettes the kids were smoking had a burnt, sickening sweet residue that reminded her of vomit. Both Monev’s drugs of choice were hallucinogens of sorts but they were liquids, not this smoke form that was being sold now.

Outside, kids of various shapes, ages and sizes were being loaded into a van at the end of the dark alleyway. Shamira started running with Kurt alongside her. Freaksheep saw their pursuit and slapped the side of the van. The last kid was jerked inside, before the van sped off, leaving Freaksheap behind.

Looking undaunted, Freaksheap smiled and sprinted down the alleyway.

“I’m calling backup—looks like a setup.” Kurt punched in a code on his computerized wristwatch.

“No kidding.” Shamira picked up speed as they tracked Freaksheap down the alley and into another abandoned warehouse that was missing a door.

Kurt pointed. “The bastard’s leading us to another alley.”

“Yeah, I think that one’s a dead end,” Shamira confirmed by commanding her GPS tracking watch on her wrist to show 3D image of their location.

Kurt’s watch beeped. “The others are here. They were nearby, and closing in on him from the other side.”

“On bikes?”

He nodded. “I think, but they have to get on foot, that alley ahead is narrow.” Kurt kicked through another broken door in the second building they’d followed Freaksheap into. This building was completely gutted; all the windows were missing as well as the doors. It was devoid of walls and was just another concrete box of a building.

They pursued him out the final door and into the alley ahead. Dark, burnt sides of buildings crushed in on them as the alley appeared to narrow with each step. Its end closed off by a brick wall.

“What the hell is he doing?” Kurt pumped his arms harder.

Shamira was right beside him. “It’s a dead end. Where’s he running to?”

Suddenly, after her next breath, she heard it. Tap…tap…tap. “Assassins! Trap!”

Kurt looked up as he ran. Shamira’s eyes followed, and in the darkness, from several levels, men dropped to the ground out of broken windows scattered throughout the alley. Ropes whipped closed, and they silently landed around them like rapid raindrops.

“You get that bastard! I’ll fight these off until the others come!” Kurt pulled his protective hood down over his face. He grabbed his gun and started shooting. Periodically, he’d jerk or flip out of the way of raining fire.

Shamira slid her protective mask over her face. She flicked her wrist and sent the cutting star through the air to slice the arm of an attacker. Blood gushed, and his hand slackened before his gun fell to the ground. Building anger and fury filled her, and in an instant, she’d landed an uppercut to his chin. Pivoting, she kicked his chest and dropped to her knees to avoid laser fire from his partner, who hit the falling body of his comrade instead. A few charged her and she landed a kick, back-flipped over another and kneeled to toss another star at an attacker.

Sliding her gun from her jacket, she fired at another then another. She made her way toward Freaksheap, who was getting away.

A yell vibrated around them and she turned briefly to hear Mitch’s war cry. A smile slipped to her face when Kurt answered with his. Picking up speed, she was gaining on Freaksheap, when from behind, a blow to the back of her head sent her reeling forward, tripping her as she tried to regain her balance. The assailant didn’t give Shamira time to recover and came down on her back with two heavy fists, knocking her to the ground.