Primal Estate: The Candidate Species (46 page)

Utu was surprised she complied so readily. He was going to use the shirt to wipe under his arms with the pretext of applying his scent, but Nwella’s pitiful demeanor and simultaneous beauty tempered his distain. Rick was annoyed with Utu and felt only compassion for Nwella. Carson was thrilled and bothered. His new stepmother was gorgeous. Shainan was jealous, with all her men obviously admiring the Provenger’s half-naked body.

“Okay, well. There we go. Let’s get this done,” Rick said, motioning to Utu and Carson.

“Um, should I stay here?” asked Carson, “to keep an eye on her, I mean things, I mean Shainan?”

“No. She can handle herself just fine, I’m sure. Now grab some food for the dogs, put it in Nwella’s hands for a moment, and follow us,” Rick commanded.

Shainan stared at Nwella and Nwella stared at the floor. Nwella seem genuinely penitent, Shainan thought. They both waited in silence while they listened to the antics in the garage. At first, there was barking, then whining, then low growling, then barking again. They heard the muffled sounds of Rick giving the dogs commands, then silence, then praise. This seemed to go on for an eternity as Shainan and Nwella stood there waiting. Shainan noticed that Nwella’s breathing was rapid and thought she could see her heart beat between her breasts. Shainan began to feel some pity for this female that was losing everything and being tested and processed for inclusion into her new alien home. She felt a small urge to show her some genuine kindness She was about to ask Nwella if she would like to sit when the men came back in from the garage.

Rick walked to Nwella and gave Carson the signal to let the dogs in. They ran into the living room and moved in on Nwella as Rick stood next to her, entwining his arm with hers. Rick had chunks of meat in his other hand and told the dogs to sit, which they did only after giving Nwella a quick and cautious sniff. Once the dogs made the slightest effort to sit, Rick immediately rewarded them with the meat, knowing that his opportunity to reward their good behavior might be fleeting. He wasn’t sure if this was the best way to introduce Nwella, but it was the best he could think of. He couldn’t have his dogs being aggressive toward her in his house.

Barnes and Nobelle circled Nwella thoughtfully, sniffing, watching. The dogs smelled the alien’s scent but also the scents of Rick, Utu, and Carson. The rest of their pack had already examined this animal and found her, sniff, yes her, to be no danger. From her breath wafting down with each exhale, from her skin and the chemicals of her perspiration, the two German Shepherds could tell that this animal before them was not human but only slightly different from one. They could discern from the chemistry of her perspiration and the odor from her crotch that she ate mostly meat which, as long as she was part of the pack, would mean they might share some of it. She appeared, then, to be one of them. They could also tell that she had never born cubs before but might be with one now. And that must mean acceptance by Rick, who was leader. She seemed to be no threat.

Nwella began to tremble, and Rick put both arms around her. Utu tossed her shirt back, which she immediately put on. They all noticed a swath of dog slobber down the front, as Nwella’s chest started to heave as tearless sobs came percolating silently to the surface. She was truly a pitiful sight.

“I think we’ve all had enough for one evening,” Rick said, as he turned her to walk her back outside.

Nwella stopped and looked back at them all. “Thank you,” she said, as if they’d done something nice for her. Then they walked out the back door and onto the patio.

“Well that was pretty weird,” Carson said confidently.

“Carson, that reminds me. You haven’t talked to your dad about what Shainan found yet, have you? Because I’d like to talk to him about it tomorrow.”

“Na, I didn’t say anything.”

“Okay, because I’ll let him know tomorrow. He’s got a lot on his mind tonight.” Utu knew he needed to act immediately. With Nwella’s confession to the Provenger, there could follow a cascade of events that might destroy his current opportunity.

Earlier in the day, Shainan had found the figurine where she had hidden the bolt that Utu had given her over twelve thousand, eight hundred years before. It was a miracle really. Utu had expected they would need to find a general location and then get some kind of scanning technology to find it under the earth. But earlier that day when Shainan was looking through the contents of museums in Turkey, she found the figurine. It had survived. It was of a class of figurines called a “Venus” figure. The site described it as having the etching of a skinny male on the back. Shainan seemed sure this was the exact one. And now it was within Utu’s grasp. With the gauntlet they had, he could transport himself there, grab it, and be back within a matter of minutes. When the bolt was inserted into the gauntlet, it would give him the power to transport himself all the way to the Provenger ship, something the gauntlet alone could not do. He would destroy as much of the ship as he could and come back to Earth. He knew the bolt had a limit to its energy, but regardless of the amount, he had to try.

With this disaster of Nwella’s pending banishment, things were about to get unpredictable. Utu wasn’t sure if they’d let her go. They might kill everyone in Rick’s household the second they learned of the situation. Whatever might happen, Utu needed to be prepared. He would get this bolt that night, no matter what, and very soon destroy as much of the Provenger ship as he could.

Chapter 35

Confounding variableS and other delicacieS

The next morning, the weather was clear and the air was crisp and cold. Rick was making some last-minute preparations for his appointment with Ryvil later in the day. He'd been assured by Synster that the difficulty and danger of the task would be minimal. Rick had asked if Ryvil would be cloaked or have his shield deployed. He had learned their shields could block bullets on the day they ambushed Tony and his men. Synster explained that those Provenger were prepared for trouble. That kind of shield uses a lot of energy and would not be deployed under normal work conditions. To do so would unnecessarily deplete energy reserves.

Putting together his gear for a hunt was one of Rick's favorite things to do. He'd play a little bagpipe music while he gathered everything in one spot, make sure it was all serviceable, and then weed out the unnecessary, keeping only the barest essentials. For this mission, the first thing he did was clean, load, and strap on his favorite pistol, the old Les Baer 1911 Hardball that his father had bought him when he was just 18, the same one he’d used to kill Tony.

Rick didn't need much gear. He knew he would transport in with the gauntlet, take the shot at about three hundred yards, and get out…sounded easy enough. Rick chose his Remington 700 VTR in .260 Remington. There would be no way even a Provenger would be able to survive a center mass hit with that caliber. Complete with bipod and Leupold Mark 8, 3.5-25x56mm scope, it was as perfect a package as anything to reach out and touch Ryvil at long range in any light condition. Rick had taken down two elk with that rifle at just about that range, and both the rounds had gone exactly where he'd wanted them, right behind the ear. Rick had just checked the zero three days ago, and it was ready.

As the day wore on, it was beginning to warm. Carson, being a teenager, was, of course, still in bed. Shainan and Utu had been sleeping late as they sometimes did, but Rick could hear them stirring at about noon when he was finalizing his preparations. As he was on his way out to the Jeep to grab his "go bag" to check for some extra things he might need, he heard a motorcycle in the distance. On this remote road he didn't have any friends or neighbors who owned one, and so it was an unfamiliar sound in the area. It caught his attention. As he neared his Jeep parked a distance from the garage, the biker made a turn onto his driveway. He hoped it was someone who was lost and looking for directions, but the closer the bike got, the more he doubted he’d be that lucky.

When it stopped ten yards away and the rider got off, he knew with certainty he was not lucky. Rick got that "aw shit" feeling that he had felt when he was walking up to Synster that first time in the canyon. The biker was about average height and slightly overweight, with a protruding wheat belly. Definitely human. He was wearing all black leather to include a skull cap doo rag. Among the buckles and zippers of the outfit was a belt that caught Rick's attention. On that belt was a holster carrying a Single Action Army revolver. It was a little forward on his hip, in a slight cross-draw position. The holster was worn but not worn out. The revolver was shiny black, about a five inch barrel from what Rick could tell, and had the look of being loved by its owner.

Rick was a gun nut and liked to see people exercising their rights, but having a stranger roll up in such a manner didn't sit well with him. Colorado was open carry, but normally people who did it were out in public, not calling on people they didn’t know. The biker stood there for a moment and just looked at him. Rick didn't have a good feeling.

"You Rick Thompson?" the biker bellowed.

"You came to my place, friend. Who’s asking?"

"Name's Marcus Holliday. Tony Carrian was a friend of mine. Do you know him, Thompson?"

"Yeah, I know him. Listen, I don't know what you've come here for, but I don't know where Tony is. I told the deputy everything I know. I don't want any trouble with you."

"Too late, Thompson. You got trouble."

There was something about the way this Holliday said "Too late Thompson" that sounded to Rick like it was a little slurred. The last thing Rick needed just before his mission of revenge on Ryvil was a vigilante who'd overindulged in liquid courage. Rick began to formulate an impression of the man; up all night drinking, pissed about his friend missing, thinking he knows exactly who’s responsible, determined by daybreak to do something about it, judgment severely impaired after hours of delusions of grandeur.

"Listen, either you leave here now, or I'm going to have to call the police. Like I said, I don't want any trouble."

"Where's Tony? He told me that if anything happened to him, it would be because of you."

"Yeah? Well…the world isn't that cut ‘n-dried," retorted Rick.

Holliday bladed his left shoulder toward Rick. He was looking pretty confident. He had both his hands unnaturally positioned just above his navel. Rick was no cowboy action fanatic, but he'd watched his share of quick-draw shooters online and knew the speed and accuracy they were capable of. The way Holliday had his holster positioned, his right hand was ready to draw and press the trigger while the left hand was right there over the cylinder, capable of snapping that hammer back simultaneous to the draw. Rick knew it could all happen faster than he would be able to see it. With the exception of actually being there picking a fight, this guy seemed to have all the signs of knowing what he was doing. If Holliday moved for his gun first, it would all happen before Rick would be able to even flinch, let alone make it half way to the 1911 on his hip. Rick knew this guy must be able to see that he was armed. What the hell was he thinking?

A series of images raced through Rick’s mind. If he was killed, Carson and Nwella would be screwed. If he was injured, he wouldn't be able to kill Ryvil as scheduled, and the investigation into his involvement with Tony would deepen. It might turn up something more on his involvement with the Carrian Gang disappearance. All this seemed to be getting complicated pretty quickly. And all roads seemed to lead to Carson, Nwella, and his coming baby being alone, and the world being at the mercy of Managed Collectivization. All of a sudden, the life of this man in his driveway dwindled in importance, except for the fact he was an obstruction.

Rick was getting pissed. His mind raced. He’d thought about a moment like this many times. For his own safety, Rick had to believe this man was going to back his words with action. He quickly recalled the rules of a gunfight. Bring a friend and a lot of guns. Too late. He thought of another rule. Cheat. Okay, cheat. I still have time for that.

"If you don't tell me where Tony is, there's gonna be more trouble than you can handle, mister."

Rick thought, if this guy gives me the countdown, I'm going to have to shoot him! Don't do it, don't do the countdown! In a flash, Rick devised a plan. Action beats reaction. Shoot fast while moving to cover, and shoot some more from cover of the Jeep.

Holliday continued, "You've got five sec..."

Rick immediately drew as fast as he could and fired, both hands on the weapon locked out hard and crouched and pointed in Holliday's general direction. Rick thought he saw his front sight a little low on Holliday as the first round broke. Rick simultaneously lurched and shot, dashing toward the Jeep to his right.

Holliday had been bluffing. He wasn't going to draw on anyone. He was just trying to scare Thompson, make him talk. Who ends up in a gunfight these days? His mind flashed, he must be guilty!

But he had bluffed the wrong man. When he saw Rick draw, much to his amazement, he reacted. Rick had his first shot out, putting one in Holliday’s gut by the time his revolver was emerging from the holster. Holliday's first shot was lightning fast and aimed right at Rick's chest, or at least where it had been a quarter second ago, before Rick moved. Holliday's second shot followed the first one before he had time to track Rick’s movement. Both had zinged by Rick’s left shoulder.

About this moment, Rick’s second and third shots missed Holliday, flying to the right.

Holliday’s third shot almost caught Rick, tracking just behind, and the fourth round overshot, tracking just in front of Rick's chest as he ran for the cover of his Jeep. Holiday’s lightning speed and dead eye accuracy left him nowhere with a moving target. Rick made it to the back of his Jeep and continued to the opposite side. Staying low, he delivered three more quick shots as a panicked, wounded, and exposed Holliday was delivering his revolver’s last two rounds into the grill of Rick's Jeep.

Rick's second and final hit took Holliday right in the bladder. It smashed through his soft tissue, and 230 grains of mushrooming Golden Saber .45 ACP tore over his enlarged prostate, crashing into the back of his pelvis, and collapsing him like a toothpick scaffold, to the dirt, paralyzed from the waist down.

"Thompson, please! I wasn't gonna shoot. Christ!” Marcus winced with pain. “I can’t move my legs! This all got outta hand; please help me!"

Rick thought he'd shot every round in his gun, but the slide hadn't locked back. This time he got Holliday in his sights, centered right on the downed man’s chest. Slowly Rick came out from behind the Jeep. Holliday had dropped his empty revolver. It lay in front of him in the dust.

"Please! Rick, right? Please, Rick. Help me. Call 911. I'm shot, please," Marcus pleaded. "I've got two kids."

"Shut up." Rick didn't want to hear it, fuming at the man for making this happen. Rick, even if he could legally explain his actions, couldn’t afford to be in custody tonight. They would still arrest him until things got sorted out. He had a Provenger to kill.

Marcus crabbed backwards on his elbows as Rick approached. "No, no, goddammit, you sonofabitch!" Marcus saw the look on Rick's face. "For Christ's sake!"

"Christ has nothing to do with it." Rick moved his aim to the bridge of Holliday's nose, and just before the shot broke, Rick changed his focus from the front sight to Holliday’s face. He saw a man pleading for his life, then the recoil of his 1911. Rick’s slide locked back. He instinctively dropped the magazine from his weapon and swept his belt for a magazine that wasn’t there. He yelled at the corpse, "You don't challenge a man with a weapon and expect the fight to be anything but final, idiot!” Then he instantly calmed. “People watch too many movies,” he muttered.

Rick looked back at the house and saw Utu standing there. Then Carson ran out, panicked and screaming.

Rick wasn’t sure what to do. They had to get rid of the body and the bike. They could have a hole dug in a half hour. Rick released his slide, holstered, and checked his watch. Plenty of time. “Carson, get the tractor," Rick ordered, wanting to give the boy something to do. But Carson kept screaming. Rick motioned to Utu to quiet the boy. Utu quickly grabbed him with a hand over the mouth, picked him up, and walked him inside.

Rick watched them go in, hoping the few neighbors he had around wouldn’t hear the screaming. Gunfire around there was normal. But the sound of a gunfight with screaming following wasn’t. They needed to clean things up and get everything in the back yard fast. Rick ran for his tractor.

One hour later, Rick and Utu were standing over a large hole with Marcus Holliday and a gently used Harley in the bottom of it. Carson was inside the house with Shainan trying to calm him down. Rick was tempted to keep the revolver, but knew it could only lead to trouble.

“I didn't expect to be doing this a couple hours before my duties today. I'm already exhausted.” Rick patted Utu on the back. “You're pretty good with that backhoe. Let's fill'er in.”

“Rick, I need to tell you something.” Utu wanted to sound serious but not too serious. He wanted to avoid more drama. He felt that Rick was able to kill too easily and it bothered him. Utu hadn't expected to tell Rick just after he'd executed someone, but Rick had to know, and soon.

"What is it?"

"Rick, last night I used the gauntlet. I went to Turkey.”

“You went where?”

“Turkey, it’s a country on the eastern edge…”

“I know where Turkey is!”

“Then why did you ask me…”

“Why did you go to Turkey?”

“We found the bolt that powers the gauntlet. Shainan did, looking through pictures from our searches. It was at a museum in Ankara. I went in, broke it open, and left. I had the cloak on the whole time. I was in and out in seconds. No one saw anything.”

“Holy shit! Where is it?”

“In the house.”

“Show me.”

Utu stared at Rick before they started toward the house. “Don’t we want to cover him up?”

Rick stopped, turned, and considered Marcus for a second. “No, he’ll keep. I want to see this thing.”

Rick and Utu walked briskly toward the house. Because of the escalation of events in the last hour, Utu had made some decisions. He knew he needed to use the power of the gauntlet as soon as possible. He would use it now. He had determined that morning that he was going to transport himself to the Provenger ship and destroy as much of it as he could, but then Rick’s gunfight with Marcus had delayed things. He was going to stay only until Marcus was taken care of, but now it seemed as if Rick didn’t care much about getting him buried. He didn’t really need him anyway; he had the tractor.

They walked silently to the house, and Utu went immediately to his room, where they kept the gauntlet, figuring if the Provenger tried to take it back, Utu would be more capable of fighting them off. Utu quietly put the gauntlet on and felt for where he’d hidden the bolt the night before. He lifted the mattress and pulled it out. On the way back to the living room, Utu poked his head into Carson’s room.