Chapter Eleven—Reprisal

They would make him talk, but first…

John knelt in the dirt next to the wounded MerCorp shooter. “Can you talk?”

“Uh—hnngh!”

“I said can you talk?!”

The man grunted again, but nodded. “I—I can talk.”

“Good,” John said. “Now call your transport back. Tell them you took us down and that you need pickup.”

The man looked at him.

“Now.”

“All right.”

John helped him pull up his sleeve to reveal his military-grade wristlet, much like their own.

“This is Bronson,” the man said over the intercom. “We took them down. We need pick up.”

The return was skeptical. “Where’s Captain Herra?”

The man paused and John positioned the nose of his pistol right under his chin.

“He’s dead,” Bronson said. “They got him.”

“Any other casualties?”

“I have a minor wound, but that’s all.”

“All right, we’ll be there in sixty.”

John stood up. “Now we take that shuttle down.”

Kyle smiled. “Hells yeah,” he said. “Now you’re talking!”

“Are your weapons not a little under classed for such things?” Lexa asked.

“Nah,” Kyle said. “Now come on, John, we need to get out of sight.”

They ran for cover, John to the hollowed out frame he had hidden under before. He crouched down, grunting as he concealed himself from the air.

He wasn’t sure where Kyle had gone, but was certain he had found some form of cover. The MerCorp shuttle growled over the mounds as it approached. As soon as it was over them, Bronson’s wristlet cracked. “Holy shit, Bronson! I thought you said the captain was the only fuckin’ casualty. What the hells—“

John rushed out from under his cover aimed and fired his pistol straight at one of the under thrusters. It blew out instantly as Kyle came from nowhere and opened up with his repeater, taking out two more thrusters instantly.

The shuttle rocked and started taking off as John put down six more shots in quick succession while Kyle battered the underside with hundreds of energy rounds.

Something exploded. Sparks shot out and black smoke billowed down at them. The engines groaned as the shuttle shook and lost altitude, but as the engines whined, managed to escape over their unnaturally high horizon.

“Damn!” Kyle said.

John signed. “We almost had it.”

And then suddenly an explosion rocked the landfill several mounds away.

John cocked his head.

“I guess we did more damage than we thought,” Kyle chuckled as he lifted his repeater. “Good riddance.”

“Yeah,” John said. “Except we need to get out of here—quick.”

“Let’s take our squealer with us. Come on. Up!”

They lifted their prisoner by both his arms. He grunted in pain, but his legs were steady. “No dawdling,” John said.

“You slow us down,” Kyle added, “and we’re gonna fill you with holes, got it?”

Nodding quickly, Bronson agreed to be their prisoner. When they got back to the Corvo a pillar of black smoke was rising into the sky.