Grit and Grace: A Metal and Men Novella (Metal and Men Series Book 1) (4 page)

Before me was a long empty aisle boxed in by metal shelves. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but the air shimmered and smelled of ozone. I flipped on my scanners and could see a flickering shadow of a presence twenty meters down the aisle.

"Was hoping to take you by surprise." I brushed back the tail of my coat and touched the handle of my sidearm with the tips of my fingers. "I suppose you heard the plan, then?"

A chuckle echoed hollowly down the aisle. "Brilliant, Twang. You thought you'd catch me by surprise? Me?"

I shrugged. "Was worth a shot."

Behind me, a flash of orange flame lit the night sky. A rumble of thunder mingled with the frightening crack of an explosion.

The wave of heat dropped me to one knee, but I gritted my teeth and kept my gaze on the empty aisle.

Charlie flickered into visibility for a second—not even a second.

I drew.

He must have been waiting for me to make a move. One slug caught me in the left shoulder, the next in my gut. I fired a shot, but it slammed into the steel shelf far behind him.

His third shot caught me in my right arm, thunking into the muscle with a wet noise. My hand went weak, and the gun clattered to the ground. I slumped to the side.

"Not so damn smart now, are you?" Charlie said. I felt the tug of Charlie's light benders as he approached. Hair at the back of my neck tingled.

I didn't reply. The bullets had penetrated my shoulder and right arm, but the one in my gut had only knocked the wind out of me. Through the haze of shock, I wondered why my modded skin had been so easy to puncture. I clutched my gut, hoping Charlie wouldn't notice I was not dying.

He appeared in front of me.

Daryl bellowed behind me, but I couldn't make out the words. There was another explosion, and a second wave of heat washed over me.

"Charlie," I whispered.

He scuffled forward—only a few meters away. An idiot grin was plastered all over his face. His skinny fingers slipped into his coat and brought out a black knife.

"Honor of the hunt," I said. "You know the rules."

He shook his head. "Not this time, Twang." He licked the blade and holstered his gun. "Connor says we're gonna take you out of the picture for good. Newbies like you ought to learn to steer clear of the big scores."

"Been doing this longer than you, Chuck."

He peered at me. "What?"

"I said—"

"Naw, never mind. Goodwin really did a number on you, huh?" I could see a pained expression on his face. The air around him shimmered, but he didn't disappear. "It doesn't matter anyway. Takes more'n smarts to be a decent hunter. Takes a certain…"

I moaned, and doubled over. My eyes drifted out of focus. Blood from my arm soaked the front of my shirt and dripped onto the floor.

"Hell," said Charlie. "I never liked you uppity eggheads." He stepped forward, raised the knife and—

I charged forward, shouldering Charlie in the gut and lifting him off the ground. The floor shook with a thunderous crash. New waves of heat flowed over us. I stumbled, tripping and crashing us into a shelf.

His knife plunged into my back, sending new waves of warm not-pain rippling through my body. In one motion, I drew my own knife and slashed it across his belly.

With a surge of strength, I slammed him to the floor. He clutched his gut while I stood tall.

A chuckle grew on its own in my belly. "It takes a certain what, Charlie? Toughness? Perseverance? What were you saying?"

He reached for his gun, but I stomped it out of his hand.

"Tenacity? What was it?" The floor seemed to sway, and I couldn't tell if it was another explosion or my own blood loss.

I grabbed his arm, yanking him around onto his belly. Blood poured from my arm, spraying the shelves and drenching Charlie. Darkness threatened to swallow my vision, but I pinned Charlie and held him. Blood loss was going to do me in soon if I didn't act fast.

"You're done," I said. "Give up and I'll let you live. Hunter's honor."

He responded with a dull chuckle.

"Say you give up, Chuck." My arms were numb—not the non-pain of augmented senses, but the empty nothing of nerves gone dead. My limbs felt like someone had replaced the muscles with a fine batch of jerky.

"Moral ambiguity," Charlie said in a choked voice. "Guess… Guess you got it."

"Say you give up," I said. "Say you..."

That's about when I passed out.

I woke in a dozen centimeters of tepid water that stank like stale beer and old bread. My fingers ran across a coarse texture underneath the water, like a carpet. Darkness pressed in all around, but I got the feeling I was in a small room. My back was pressed haphazardly against something that felt like a padded leather chair. A chair sounded like a good idea in my sluggish brain.

Moving was a terrible, terrible mistake. Waves of pain tore through my body, starting in my back and rolling outward to my limbs, then starting in my arms and spiking into my core. I sucked air through gritted teeth and closed my eyes.

Turning off pain is always a bad idea. Pain is how the body tells its owner when damage is being done. It tells a person when to slow down and when to stop. Mine had been off when I fought Charlie. He'd damn near killed me, and I hadn’t slowed down. My not-obsolete-thank-you-very-much nannies could repair damage to my body, but it took time and the pieces had to all be present and accounted for. The pieces had to be in the right place too. Cut skin needed to be stitched. Broken bones needed to be set.

With my left hand I probed the damage on my right arm. To my surprise, there were bandages. The bone had been splinted into place.

What had happened? Flashes of memory played out under my closed eyelids. There was an explosion, and fire. The truck had crashed. Charlie had shot me, but I'd fought.

I opened my eyes.

Damping pain was always a mistake.

I turned off my pain and stood.

This wasn't done yet.

My toes squished in the slime of old water as I sloshed forward to the door. It was open just a crack, and there was a tiny amount of light coming through. I gently pulled the door open and peered out into the hall. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but everything came to me in grays and blacks. The world was silent but for the sound of running water. To the right was a narrow stair leading up. A steady stream of water flowed from the ceiling above the stairs, drenching the wall and adding to the water on the ruined floor.

To the left was an open door to a small auditorium. The girl was there.

Lena lay on a raised stage. She opened her eyes and slowly sat up as I sloshed into the hallway. When I approached, she pulled her knees close to her chest and shivered. Something felt odd in that room. The noise of the world was suddenly replaced with a heavy silence.

"Morning," I said.

She smiled weakly.

The impulse was to ask why she was there and what happened to the Roth boys and why I woke up in a pool of water. In fact, I wanted to ask why I had woke up at all. One look at her face stopped me, though. There were tears in her eyes.

I sat on the stage next to her.

From my pocket, I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, realized they were soaked, and tossed them into the water. Then I pulled out a half-empty tin of snuff, took a wad for myself, and handed the tin to the girl.

Eying me through her tears, she cautiously took the tin. Her eyes followed me closely as I crammed a wad of the stuff in my lip. She took a small pinch, stuffed it in her lip, and her mournful expression turned to one of sour disgust. She didn't spit it out.

We sat in silence for a time. Moonlight reflected off the pooled water, shining in from the top of the stairs, where a wall of the building was ruined. I guessed that we were in the basement of the library, but I had no real way of knowing.

I spat into the water, and Lena followed suit. She wasn't so elegant, though, and ended up with a mouthful of chew. I stifled a grin as she tried desperately to clear her mouth. After a time, she seemed satisfied, pulled another wad of chew, and stuffed it in her lip. It was an impressive display of perseverance.

She turned to me. "You ever seen a horse?"

"Sure."

"Like, a real horse. Not a vid or anything." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Not one of those... machines."

I let the silence sink in for a moment. "Once, when I was little. They were wild, but I saw them running below as I flew up north."

"Around here?"

"Farther."

She didn't say anything for a while.

"I've never seen one up close," I said. "Heard of some folks riding them out where tech isn't such a concern. They're slow, but some folks like them anyway."

"I'd love to ride a horse someday. I bet if I had a horse she'd love me. I'm light." She untucked her knees and let her legs dangle over the edge of the stage. "You ever want something that doesn't make sense?"

"Hon," I said. "Ain't nothing people want that makes sense."

She smiled, spat, and looked up at me. "I want you to live," she said.

"Well, that make's sense. I'm handsome."

"It's safe here."

I nodded. There was something odd about how she said it. Something that made me think back to our encounter before.

"Lena," I said. "How'd you know to call me Doc Twang earlier? Did you hear the Roth boys say it?"

Her eyes smiled, but she was otherwise still.

"You were there when they knocked me around at the warehouse, weren't you? They didn't see you because of your fancy tech, but you were right there. You planted the address of this place on me so they'd come here looking for you."

She nodded.

"Then you rode their truck so they'd give you a lift. You used me to trick them." I looked closely at her. "Clever girl. But why?"

We sat in silence again for a while. There was no need to push for the answer. Some memory itched at the back of my brain, but it slipped away every time I tried to grab it.

"I think of this place sometimes," she said. "When I'm getting chased or I'm scared. I think of this place."

"You ever been here?"

She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Her brow knit together in worry.

"So you know what it is."

Her tears were starting to come again. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

I spat out my chew and stood in the murky water. "We're in a bad box here, Lena. You gotta go."

"Aren't you going to turn me in?"

I bit my lip.

"I mean, you said you weren't, but you were lying, weren't you?"

She was right, of course. I’d made a promise, but Lena knew I was lying. Hetty also knew I was lying, which got me thinking.

"Hetty," I said. "I'm going to need a new plan."

Lena looked at me sideways, curiosity in her glowing eyes. There was a long pause. Time was kept only by the slowing drip of water.

"Winston," Hetty's voice came in loud and clear in my head. Lena couldn’t hear Hetty's end of the conversation, but she'd understand. "Well, honey, I thought you were dead."

"Hmm." I was not amused.

"What?" Lena said.

I looked at her. "Just talking to Hetty."

Her look told me she still thought I was a few stirs short of a cocktail.

"Hetty," I said. "What say we just end this hunt."

There was a pause. "Honey, I know you didn't just say that."

"You'll get your vacation, just not this bounty."

"I think you might be forgetting the terms of our contract here, mister."

She was right. The contract was one of the many things I’d forgotten. "Remind me," I said.

A moment later, my brain buzzed with the details of a complex contract. I blinked and tried to sort it all out.

"Absolute secrecy? Time dedicated to the hunt and nothing else until its completion? No option to back down once started?" I shook my head to clear it. "Hetty, what kind of beef-headed fool would sign this?"

Lena said, "It's so quiet in here." She looked up at the ceiling and around at the walls. "So quiet."

I grunted to her and said to Hetty, "Hetty, what was I thinking? This is a shit deal."

"Hon," she said. "It's not like there was much choice."

I didn’t quite catch her drift, but I didn't want to push the subject any more. A bad contract to hunt a little girl didn't sit well with me. It wasn't like me to cave to a little pressure. What was Goodwin trying to pull?

I turned to the exit and started to walk. There was a light splash behind me as Lena followed.

"You were going to catch me soon as you had a chance," she said. "It's safe here, no noise from outside. Are we going so that you can turn me in?"

We moved out into the hallway. "Nope," I said, "I like you now."

"Winston," Hetty's voice was razor sharp in my skull. "You get back to work."