He lowered the book. It was Beleros. “Myers. Bit of a problem. I can’t find Erik.”
“What about Hellen? And Jak?”
“I’d rather they not know about this.”
“Why is that?”
Beleros tilted his head back. “You’re a Chimera soldier, now. You follow orders without question.”
“Yes, sir. Where do I start?”
“How the hell should I know? If I knew that, I’d have him here. Go.”
“Yes, sir.” Myers stepped outside. He looked around and felt a little sick. He’d never seen so many people in one place before. Day had hardly broken and the streets were alive with people going about their business. He had no idea where to start. He didn’t know where they would’ve gone.
He remembered them saying they needed supplies. There was a store across the street called The Chop Shop. As soon as he decided to check inside, a black bag was shoved over his head and a sharp blow to the back of his head knocked him unconscious.
* * *
John stepped over the lifeless, bloody body of a gunsmith and smashed the glass covering a case of pistols. He grabbed a couple of holsters and slid a rusty laser pistol in one and a revolver in the other. His fists clenched as he thought about the argument he and Fox had about which was better. He grabbed a shotgun and slung it across his back, then put on two bandoliers, one full of shotgun shells, the other with revolver ammo.
The weapon selection was scant. There weren’t any assault rifles. John grabbed all the money he could from the register and put the bloody knife he had used to kill the gunsmith in its sheath. There was no way he could follow Rocco in a motor vehicle, since he didn’t have one of his own, and it was too far to ride a bicycle. And there weren’t any trains nearby.
In the bar, he overheard talk of a trading caravan. It was his only lead. He grabbed the gunsmith’s duster from the coat rack by the door and put it on, hiding his weapons. He took a dusty hat from the counter and put it on as well, then left before anyone could come to investigate.
Since he killed an assassin in the bar, he doubted he’d be welcome there, so he bought a newspaper from a stand to hide his face and took a seat in the bar’s back corner. The duster, hat, and paper gave him enough cover to sit undisturbed while he eavesdropped.
After a few minutes, he picked up a conversation between an old man and what sounded like a teenager.
“Not a chance,” said the older man.
“Come on! I’m a good shot!”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Then why won’t you take me?”
“Because you’re inexperienced, and this is too important to take a new kid like you along.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Only kids say that. Look, we’ll be back in town in a couple days on the return journey. If you’re gonna be around here then, I’ll look you up, okay?”
“Awesome!”
“Jesus, kid, how old are you?”
“I’m 25.”
The older man laughed. “Sure, kid. Gotta run, we’re leaving soon. Thanks for the drink.”
John lowered his hat and followed the old man out, careful to keep his distance. The old man opened the trunk of a beaten up vehicle.
“Hear you’re looking to hire help.”
“I don’t know you, boy.” He straightened up and looked at John, then instinctively reached for his sidearm.
“Easy, old man. I’m just here to help.”
“I don’t work with murderers.”
“He was one of Mr. Hyperion’s goons.”
“Hm. Only people I hear call him ‘Mr. Hyperion’ work for him.”
“Look, if it’s a problem, I can work for free.”
“Nothing good is ever free, boy. But if what you’re hiding under that coat is any good, we could use the help. You’ll be paid a small percentage of what we earn. You can take the top of this car. You see someone come close, fire a warning shot. They don’t take the hint, take them out. Simple enough?”
“Got it.”
“Good. We’re headed to a place south of here called Brooktrails. Small town, but they have a lake, so we’ll mostly be trading for water. And I’m sure this goes without saying, but you double cross us, you’re dead.”
John smiled. “Understood.”
