Highway To Armageddon Page 9
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.”
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.
Machete and Arrow hop into their car. As it lifts into the air, Arrow blows a kiss to Boom Boom.
“See you around, Red,” he says before they streak off toward the horizon.
Boom Boom’s cheeks turn redder than ever.
“Are you seriously blushing over that creep?”
“Shut up, Lance! I’m not blushing!”
Krystal fans herself with a handkerchief. “Don’t be embarrassed, Boom Boom. Arrow is one sexy ass little dude. He may even be hotter than you, Lance.”
“Thanks for the support,” I gripe.
Wailing police sirens off in the distance pluck me out of my grumpy mood. “Crap, I bet those coppers are headed this way.”
“They still have cops in Detroit?” Krystal says.
I glance at the dead bodies around us. “It’s probably best we get out of here. We know how corrupt the Detroit cops are. Well, the few cops that are left. They’ll try to pin this on us so they don’t have to do any work.”
The three of us hop into our crappy car. Krystal revs the engine a few seconds until it finally starts. We then shakily lift into the air and fly off. Krystal swerves down a back alley so we’re not seen by the police.
As Krystal flies overtop a nearby building, I notice two people standing on the rooftop. It appears to be two girls in dark ninja costumes. They have bandanas around their heads and swords are strapped to their backs.
“Guys, look!”
Boom Boom leans out the window and gasps. “Is that Yin and Yang?”
We never find out for sure because the two mysterious figures vanish out of sight.
“What do you think they were doing?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“They were probably checking us out,” Boom Boom replies. “Like Pitbull, they’re probably thinking about handing us over to Caesar.”
I hope that’s not the case. Yin and Yang are twin 21-year old bounty hunters who are almost as successful at capturing crooks as Pitbull. And they’re totally ruthless. They’ll chuck throwing stars into your skull if you so much as look at them funny.
Our car suddenly starts stalling again.
“Damn it!” Krystal curses as he pounds the dashboard.
“The engine is over-heated,” Boom Boom says. “Land on that rooftop over there.”
Krystal swerves to the building and makes a bumpy landing. I pop open the front hood and step back as steam spirals into the air.
Boom Boom groans when she sees the steam “Let’s wait a few minutes for it to cool down.”
I hear some loud talking off in the distance, but I don’t pay too much attention to it. I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself for all of our bad luck.
Krystal draws my attention to the talking when she grabs my arm and says, “Look guys! They’re showing something about Mikhail on the news.”
Boom Boom and I turn around to find a giant holographic TV screen on one of the smaller skyscrapers. A small crowd has gathered to watch on the streets below. I lift my goggles so there’s not a green tint.
On the screen is an image of Mikhail. Because we’re so far away it’s kind of hard to hear the reporter, but fortunately for us they have the closed caption function on.
“…and because the Chinese claim they are 100% positive their satellites have captured images of Mikhail entering a nightclub in New Las Vegas, they are accusing the U.S. of harboring and abetting an international criminal.”
The report shows a grainy video image (I guess from the Chinese’s spy satellites) of a short, squat, bearded man entering some club. The satellite homes in on the person, showing a clearer image of his face. It’s still kind of fuzzy, but even I can see it’s a dead-on image of Mikhail Rasputin. His long, stringy black hair is blowing in the breeze, and his beard descends down to his chest. He’s wearing a dark purple cloak and a flowing cape. But more damning is the image of a purple dragon plastered on his chest. The Purple Dragons, of course, is Rasputin’s terrorist organization.
The TV screen reverts back to the reporter. “Empress Xing has put out a statement saying the United States has one week to locate Mikhail and hand him over to Chinese authorities. If they do not, they will send special forces in after him.”
Boom Boom and I trade alarmed glances. If the Chinese were to send forces into America, that would ignite a war.
The report switches over to an image of short, pudgy woman with dirty blond hair marching up to a podium. It’s President Klaxton. Her pinstriped pantsuit makes her look like some mob kingpin.
Klaxton steps up to the podium and, in a cold, clear voice, says, “Good evening, my fellow Americans. As you all know by now, the Chinese have accused us of harboring the world’s most wanted fugitive, Mikhail Rasputin. While I can assure you that certainly is not the case, it does appear, according to China’s satellite images, that Mikhail is in America. He’s rumored to be somewhere near New Las Vegas, Alaska, about 100 miles south of Washington, D.C. While we cannot confirm for sure Mikhail is still in the country, I understand China’s concern. That is why I am authorizing an unprecedented bounty for the head of Mikhail Rasputin. I hope every bounty hunter in the country will take me up on this offer. If anyone is able to locate and capture Mikhail, dead or alive, the United States government will award that individual, or individuals, $25 million.”
Krystal starts coughing. “What did she just say?!”
“Oh my god, $25 million?” Boom Boom stammers.
I shake my head in astonishment. I’m literally speechless.
I stop paying attention to Klaxton as she regurgitates some propaganda about how the United States does not support terrorism. I begin pacing on the roof as my mind races.
Boom Boom walks over and says, “Well, what do you think?”
I finally stop pacing. “I think we should do it. We should go after Mikhail.”
“I don’t know, Lance. You heard Klaxton. Every bounty hunter in America will be after him. And New Las Vegas isn’t exactly the safest place in the world.”
“Boom Boom, the reason we went after Caesar was so we could make enough money to take a few years off from bounty hunting. If we nab Mikhail, we’ll make enough money to where we’ll never have to work again. This bounty is the answer to all our problems.”
“I’m with Lance,” Krystal says, cocking her gun. “Let’s go get the bastard.”
Boom Boom sighs. “Let’s at least go home a
nd talk about it first.”
“Fine,” I say, checking on our still smoking engine. “But no matter what you guys decide to do, I’m going after him. We’ll never get another chance to make this much money.”
Boom Boom grumbles about how insufferable I am, but I already know she’s made up her mind. She’s coming with me, and so is Krystal. Boom Boom would never let me go on such a dangerous mission by myself.
As I tinker with the engine, I smile grimly. We’re going to get that $25 million, or die trying.
Chapter Six: Boom Boom
The cool breeze blows a cloud of smoke in my direction. I gag as the noxious poison enters my lungs. I cover my mouth and glare at Lance. He’s sprawled out on a lounge chair, smoking a joint.
“Lance, put that out!”
“You know it helps me relax. But if you’re going to complain…”
Lance smashes the joint against the ground. The breeze picks up some of the burnt cinders and blows them my way. A few of the cinders singe my bare legs.
I lean back in my chair and continue reading the intel scrolling across my goggles. Lance and I are on the roof, trying to come up with a plan to locate and apprehend Mikhail Rasputin. Right now I’m looking up Mikhail’s profile on our database.
Usually when I look a fugitive up, there’s not that much intelligence to go on. Mikhail is the complete opposite. We have so much intel on him that I’m struggling to absorb it all.
My train of thought is occasionally interrupted by Krystal and the kids. They’re watching some game show, and I can hear their laughs through the open skylight. I’m tempted to close it, but we decided to open all the windows to air the place out. An apartment can get quite stinky when you have six people crammed together.
Sometimes I get annoyed that Krystal never participates in our intelligence gathering sessions. She’s more than content to leave the brainy work of our operation to Lance and me. (Although to be honest, Lance doesn’t do much work either.) Then again, Krystal would probably get on my nerves. I’m better off doing the research by myself.