Dead World 1, page 7
A minute later, Kane came strolling up. “Was that Raphael?”
“Yes,” Morgan snarled.
“You two flirting again?” he asked.
Morgan glowered at him. “Hardly.”
Kane laughed.
“You only think it’s funny because he didn’t take one of your girlfriends,” Morgan said.
His cousin arched a brow. “I’d like to see him try.”
Morgan grinned. “Thanks for the save out there.”
“I didn’t want to hear you whine, if you got gored,” he said.
Morgan playfully elbowed him. “I wouldn’t have whined.”
“Yes, you would have,” he said. “It would be just like the time you got that splinter in your side.”
“That wasn’t a splinter,” Morgan said. “That was a post.”
Kane shrugged. “Same difference.”
Morgan’s smile slowly faded. “For a minute out there, I thought you were trying to take the kill away from me.”
Kane snorted. “Like I could do that. There’s a reason you’re alpha, cuz.”
“Oh, yeah, why’s that?” Morgan asked.
“Because nobody else wants the job.” He chuckled and trotted off into the night.
8
Two days later...
Situated in a low desert valley, surrounded by mountainous rubble, Red smelled the dying town before she caught sight of any of the buildings. The odor of decay wafted in the air, polluting her nostrils and burning her throat.
Located twenty miles north of what used to be Phoenix, Nuria resembled every other small dusty boundary town that was scarce on jobs and brimming with poverty.
Solar panels twinkled like displaced stars from the rooftops, giving the appearance of life, yet several of the buildings sat empty. Closed signs barred their sealed front doors and metal blocked some of the windows. The glass panes that hadn’t been covered were broken and shattered by time.
All that was missing from the town was the sound of a death rattle. Red was sure that if she tried really hard, she’d be able to hear one. The likelihood of there being anyone here who could help her was getting slimmer by the mile.
There were no biospheres here like the ones built to enclose and protect IPTT and the larger cities from high levels of radiation exposure.
Nuria had been left to fend for itself like all the other boundary towns, which explained why the architecture reflected a different time, a different age.
Red was amazed they’d managed to survive the last world war with so many of the original buildings intact. Not many places could boast of such a feat. It was if the world had forgotten about them.
Although the housing appeared antiquated with their whitewashed window frames and brick walls, Nuria’s streets were paved with the latest synthetic green tarp scientists had designed to accommodate the sun’s punishing rays and protect the tread on most civilian vehicles.
Red couldn’t really blame them for choosing that practical option over the more expensive bio-dome. Nuria might not have many businesses, but the ones that did exist needed a way for their employees and customers to reach them.
She hadn’t been able to find much information about the town before she left. Nuria proper didn’t exist on any map. Most of the outlying buildings weren’t recorded in her navcom, so it made Rita nearly obsolete.
That was the trouble with small towns. They popped up overnight and faded just as quickly. It was a waste of manpower to keep track of them, so IPTT didn’t. And obviously neither did the Republic of Arizona, since it wasn’t listed there either, beyond the name and approximate location.
Despite the oppressive heat and the sweat trickling between her breasts, Red smiled. Her grandfather would feel right at home in this place that time forgot. She could almost picture him strolling down the sidewalk, a blissful smile brightening his face as he perused the architecture.
At some point, the town must have had a booming economy, but you couldn’t tell that by looking at it today. The fringe owned it now. It wouldn’t be long before Nuria took its last breath and expired, swallowed by the ever-present boundary area and encroaching desert sands.
As if on cue, a strong wind blew dust over the road, covering a portion of the green tarp. Red hit a button inside her car to clear the grit off her windshield. She drove into the heart of Nuria, bypassing the side streets. She wasn’t here to sightsee, no matter how tempting.
The main drag through town brightened considerably. Shops lined the road aimed at weary travelers and locals alike. Cheerful hand-painted signs hung above each building, indicating what wares were available and whether bartering was allowed. They were a marked contrast to the sealed storefronts she’d driven past moments ago.
Specially treated one-way lead mirrors stood in place of traditional windows, allowing shop customers inside the ability to look out, but preventing anyone from gazing in.
The material’s purpose was twofold; it preserved privacy and kept the radioactivity from passing through the windows. Since humans were either born immune to the higher doses of radiation or received gene therapy in the womb to counteract the poisoning, Red decided privacy was obviously a priority here. Being naturally curious, she found the visual impairment an annoyance.
Red parked her vehicle and climbed out. She pulled the sunshades from her eyes and peered at the townsfolk. Several people passed by and smiled, nodding their heads in acknowledgement. She frowned and looked behind her, expecting to see someone there.
She’d never encountered a small town where the residents were actually friendly to strangers. Quite the contrary. The last time she’d entered a boundary town her presence sparked a firefight.
Red had prepared herself for outright hostility, not an open welcome. As much as she appreciated the change, she wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation.
She glanced down at her clothing. Her black T-shirt and pants screamed tactical team and she hadn’t exactly concealed her pistol. Yet, the people seemed unfazed, like the tactical teams’ presence was an everyday occurrence.
It had been twenty years since the teams’ last official operation in the area. Red had been eight years old at the time. She’d had to look up the information to be sure.
Another couple strolled by, their faces just as open, just as friendly. Dressed in typical boundary-town clothing, the couple’s sand-colored fatigues blended seamlessly into the surroundings. Red bobbed her head in acknowledgement. This place was strange.
Pleasant, but strange.
Red slipped her shades back on and strode down the sidewalk until she reached what she assumed was the town center. A small park with benches and faux trees formed a perfect square.
There were play areas set up for children and picnic tables for family gatherings. No one was around. Not a surprise. Most people avoided afternoon sunlight, due to its intensity.
She glanced at the swings, which squeaked lightly in the hot desert breeze. Red could almost hear the ghosts of laughter echoing in the emptiness. She was about to turn around and return to the car, when the skin on the back of her neck prickled. It could be nothing...
The sensation came again, dispelling the idea. Someone was watching her.
Red felt a heated gaze scroll over her shoulders and down her body. She straightened immediately, tension thrumming all the way to her toes. Her hand automatically reached for her weapon, but she stopped short of withdrawing the pistol from its holster.
She reminded herself that she wasn’t in hostile territory, surrounded by enemies. She was in Nuria’s town center. Yet, Red couldn’t ignore the feeling of being in someone’s crosshairs. It went against everything she’d learned in training.
She casually looked around for a place to take cover. There weren’t many. There didn’t appear to be anyone following her, but Red always trusted her instincts.
She took a deep breath and paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Red rolled her shoulders, letting whoever was watching her know that she was aware of their presence.
Every fiber of her being told her to seek out the individual, but the last thing she needed was to get into a skirmish before she got the chance to introduce herself to the local sheriff.
Red knew better than to piss in someone else’s water reserve, especially when that someone might have the information she needed.
Breathe. Let it go. You have no jurisdiction. You’re here to look around, remember?
She pressed on reluctantly. She refused to give whoever it was the satisfaction of knowing that she’d been rattled by their presence. Besides, she had things to do. Locating shelter was the first order of business. She had plenty of credits saved, so finding refuge shouldn’t be difficult.
Even small boundary towns housed a variety of share spaces. After Red secured a room, she’d track down Sheriff Morgan Hunter. If there were strange things happening in his town, he would know about it.
After a cursory glance at his stats back at headquarters, she wasn’t looking forward to the meeting to come. For once, Bannon had been right. Hunter sounded like a hard-case.
Some people on the tactical team considered republic law enforcement officers inferior to their international counterparts, but not Red. She knew better. Some of the best tactical team enforcers she’d met on the job had been recruited from small towns within the various republics.
Morgan had been recruited by IPTT, but ultimately turned the position down—something all but unheard of at tactical team headquarters.
Instead, he’d returned to Nuria and took the position of sheriff. He’d been on the job ever since. That was fifteen years ago, a long time to spend with no opportunity for advancement.
She pushed her sunshades up and fetched Rita out of her tote. Red slipped her newly repaired navcom on her wrist and opened the electronic file on Morgan.
She needed to know more. What he looked like would be a good place to start. She hadn’t bothered to check before she left. It wasn’t important.
Red pressed the screen and an image of the sheriff popped up. She blinked and rubbed the grit from her eyes, then hit the refresh button. The picture remained unchanged.
Morgan wasn’t exactly what she’d been expecting. He was...younger. Much younger. And handsome, in a battered warrior kind of way.
Red stared at the image, taking in his rugged cleft chin, savage mouth, and dark wavy brown hair. His stern no-nonsense expression gave her the impression that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
The most telling thing about the image was his nose. It appeared to have been broken at some point and reset the old-fashioned way. Morgan hadn’t bothered to use enhancers to hide the injury, like most people with imperfections routinely did.
A typical enforcer image, Red thought, ignoring her heart’s sudden acceleration and the sweat forming on her palms.
She rubbed her hands along her pants, then highlighted his face so that the image would zoom in. The move brought his golden eyes to the forefront.
Red had never seen a color so vibrant and rich—like molten synth-honey that had been kissed by the sun. His eyes practically glowed in the image. There was no way the color could be real, but somehow she knew that it was ...
Captivating.
The word came to mind before Red could stop it. Strange, she’d never thought of a man as captivating before. She gazed at the image, allowing herself time to study his features carefully.
She tried to recall the last time she’d been attracted to a man. Really attracted. Her mind blanked like a virus-ridden compunit screen. If she couldn’t remember the last time that had occurred, Red didn’t want to think about how long it had been since her last physical joining.
Twenty missions ago? Forty? More?
She grimaced. It had been too long, since she’d experienced anything other than a computerized body toy. Not that they weren’t good, with their advanced A.I. orgasm stimulation system, but they’d never replace the real thing. There was just something about having a man’s sweaty body resting above her as he rolled his hips...
Red quivered at the thought, her gaze unconsciously drawn back to Morgan Hunter.
“You’re here to get help, not get laid,” she muttered. “Keep your head focused on the job.”
After Bannon’s smart-assed comment about her spreading her legs, Morgan was the last person she needed to be thinking about in that way. She’d just have to stick with the body toys a while longer.
“Gina, I’m noting a change in your autonomic system,” Rita chimed. “Should I be concerned about outside stimuli? I can have the team dispatched to Nuria within five hours and two minutes. You’ll have to manually input your coordinates. I am unable to pinpoint your exact location.”
“No! That won’t be necessary.” Red grimaced at being caught ogling what would probably turn out to be an old image. Boundary town law enforcers were notorious for not updating their pictures. Some were nearly thirty years old.
“But I can’t find you,” Rita said. “There do not seem to be markers or streets. You are in Nuria, correct?”
“Yes, I’m in Nuria. It’s okay, Rita. The town hasn’t been mapped.”
“How will I assist you in locating markers, if the town has not been properly recorded?” she asked.
Red laughed. “You won’t. I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way and use my eyes.”
“This is highly irregular.” Rita sounded more than a little perturbed. “I recommend reporting this situation to headquarters immediately. You could be in danger.”
Red shook her head. She wasn’t in danger. At least not yet. There was no way she would report this non-incident to headquarters. Her grandfather was looking for an excuse to call her back. “Go to standby. I promise you will know if I need you.”
“Very well.” The A.I. unit made a chirping sound as it switched to standby.
Red shut the viewer screen, ignoring the flare of disappointment she felt as Morgan’s image faded. She chided herself for having such foolish thoughts in the first place. She was here to find out who—or what—killed Lisa Solomon. Nothing more, nothing less. And she’d do just that, once she located shelter for the night.
During the day, boundary towns were generally unfriendly. At night, they could be downright hostile. Just because Nuria had bucked convention once did not mean it would do so again.
Red explored the town. If Nuria had amenities, she wasn’t seeing them. It took twenty minutes to ferret out a few necessities. She purchased an extra water canteen and a general area map, which highlighted the local emergency care center.
The latter didn’t look far, so Red decided to take a detour, before she continued her search for a suitable share space. The first two share spaces she’d encountered had no cleansing units, and offered little beyond a communal sleep area. Red was used to staying out in the field on occasion with the tactical team but not in a room full of strangers.
What if someone woke her up suddenly and she accidentally shot them? Worse still, what if she had another missing time episode?
Red hadn’t been able to discover what occurred during those hours. She’d made discreet inquiries, but analysis had turned up nothing. She hadn’t had another sleepwalking episode, but that didn’t mean they were gone for good.
The entrance of the emergency care center was plain with small gray letters indicating the building’s purpose.
A group of people filed out. They all wore matching gray medical uniforms. A few glanced her way. Most moved directly to the parking lot, more concerned with going home than worrying about a stranger in town.
She entered as the last group exited. The main building seemed to consist of three wings lined with rooms. There were four emergency treatment areas off to the side and a nurse’s station. The facility was large for a town this size.
It must treat the entire republic, not just Nuria. No wonder it was the only thing marked by the Republic of Arizona.
Red walked up to the first nurse she encountered, a jovial woman with short red hair and a round laugh-lined face, and asked to speak with the doctor in charge.
“What is your emergency?” The woman eyed Red with suspicion, when she couldn’t detect an obvious injury.
Red grinned. “I’d rather speak directly to the doctor, if you don’t mind.”
“You and all the other women in this town,” she sniffed.
“Excuse me?” Red asked in confusion.
“I’ll page him.” The nurse pressed her ear and began to speak.
Red hadn’t noticed the comlink tucked there. It was all but hidden beneath her shaggy hair.
“You can wait over there. He’ll only be a moment.” She pointed to a row of uncomfortable looking seats.
“Thank you.”
Forty minutes later a tall, dark-haired handsome man with a casual rolling gait came walking down the hall, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was talking with a child whose arm was in a sling.
Probably his father, she thought at first glance.
Broad-shouldered with big hands, the man looked like he’d spent his life doing hard labor.
“I better not see you back here again,” he said and mussed the boy’s dark curls.
“You won’t, doctor.” The boy rushed past Red and ran out the door.
Doctor? He wasn’t dressed like any doctor she’d ever seen.
The man stopped in front of her. Red stood so that he wouldn’t tower over her. It didn’t help. She craned her neck to look at him.
“You asked to see me.” He smiled, assessing her in a glance. “You don’t look injured.” His gaze hovered over her breasts longer than was polite or professional, before focusing on her face.
“Astute of you to notice.”
He chuckled. “I’m Dr. Hunter.”
“Any relation to Morgan?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He laughed.
Most young medical professionals left for the cities the first chance they got. It was impossible to make a decent living otherwise. What was it about this town that made people want to stay? There had to be more to it than friendliness.
