DeadEarth: Mr. 44 Magnum (7 page)

“This is all your fault.” Rikka growled as
she charged up the stairs two at a time. When she emerged she had
an unfurled map in one hand and her weapon in the other. Before she
had a chance to aim at anyone, Shade had her weapon drawn.

Rikka paused, her gun at her side.

“Drop it,” Shade ordered.

Rikka sneered. “You’re going to shoot me? For
what? Them.” Her hand twitched, as if she was testing how fast she
could raise and fire her weapon.

“I won’t ask again,” Shade replied
evenly.

“You pathetic little bitch. This is your
fucking fault. If you just stayed in the fucking bunker…”

Her hand twitched again.

Shade pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck Rikka in her shoulder,
forcing her to drop her pistol. She fell back against the wall,
letting go of the map as she cupped her wound in her left hand. The
rage faded from her eyes instantly as she looked from her bullet
wound to the smoking gun in her sister’s hand.

“Shade,” Rikka said, her voice suddenly
pleading.

“I don’t know what your name is, but there is
a pair of handcuffs in the bunker, to the left of the stairs. Can
you grab them? The one I want has three cuffs instead of two.”

“Sure thing,” Mr. .44 Magnum said as he
stood, gun in hand. “And my name’s Fievel for future
reference.”

Without an ounce of fear, Fievel squeezed
past Rikka and headed downstairs. It took a few minutes of
shuffling around before he reemerged with cuffs in hand. “Nice
little set-up you got down there.”

“Cuff her to the door knob.” Shade glanced
back at Daniel who had managed to get his emotions in check and
climb to his feet. “Grab three book bags and meet me in the
bunker.”

“You’re making a mistake, Shade. You’re
really going to choose them over me. Over your sister.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my
sister.”

Once Rikka was secure, Shade lowered the gun
and scooped up the map Rikka dropped. There was a red X in the dead
center of New York’s Central Park with a handwritten note from Lou
just beneath it. Meet me here on October 8th. Bring an army.
Lugia.

“What does she mean by ‘bring an army’?”
Fievel asked as he read over her shoulder.

Shade shook her head at an utter loss for
words. She didn’t believe Lou would run off like that, but no one
outside the family knew about her nickname. Moreover, Shade was the
only person who called her by it. The note was directed to her, but
she had no idea what it meant. Bring an army to Central Park. What
she for real? Shade flipped the map around to see if there was any
writing on the back. There was none.

“Watch her,” she said as she folded the map
and walked down into the bunker. Everything was as it was when they
left. All the supplies and weapons were there, it didn’t look like
any clothes or food had been taken, and all the water bottles were
accounted for. It was like Lou vanished, just like Fievel’s people.
“What the fuck is going on here?”

“These are the biggest packs we have,” Daniel
said from the top of the stairs. He was holding up three massive
bags fit for a college student with a full schedule.

With more pressing matters to deal with,
Shade put the mystery behind Lou out of her mind. She really didn’t
want to be anywhere near Rikka, especially after her eyes turned
black. The faster she got packed and got out of the house, the
better. She would have plenty of time to think when she was on the
road.

“Start packing,” Shade said as she grabbed a
bottle of water, a medi-pack, and a handcuff key. She made her way
upstairs, barking orders with every step. “Grab food, water,
medicine, guns, and ammo. And anything else you can think of.
Fievel, go down and help him please.”

“No problem, doll.” He redirected his
attention to Daniel who went straight for the gun rack. “9mm, kid.
Don’t bother with anything else. And grab of few of them swords.
They don’t run out of bullets.”

Shade smiled inwardly. She was glad she
didn’t have to spend time walking them through everything they
needed to pack. Fievel seemed to have a pretty good handle on
things—

“Nope,” he said. “I’ll pack those. You’re
liable to blow your dick off the way you’re handling ‘em.”

Shade took a deep breath, turning her full
attention to her sister. The rage was present in her eyes once
again, but Shade figured it would be. The betrayed sister role was
just an act, and when she realized it wouldn’t work, she reverted
back to her crueler self.

Shade pulled her weapon out and aimed it at
Rikka’s leg, just above the knee. “I’m going to give you the key
and patch up your wound. You try anything and I’ll shoot you again,
understood?”

Rikka nodded.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shade hooked
the medi-pack over her shoulder and walked over to her sister. She
grabbed Rikka by the throat and ordered her to open her mouth.
Knowing what was to come, Rikka complied. Shade put the handcuff
key on her sister’s tongue the twisted open the bottle of
water.

“Lift your neck up and open your throat,”
Shade said.

Rikka lifted her head, allowing the key to
slide to the back of her mouth. Shade shoved the open water bottle
in her mouth and squeezed, forcing her sister to chug the water and
swallow the key. Only when the bottle was empty did she toss it to
the ground.

With a pair of scissors she retrieved from
the med kit, Shade cut the sleeve off Rikka’s shirt to inspect the
gunshot wound. It didn’t look too bad, but she hoped it didn’t do
too much damage inside. That was unlikely, but she hoped for a
miracle. Lightly pressing her fingers around the wound, she looked
up at her sister to gauge her reaction. Rikka didn’t so much as
blink.

Shade went back to her pack and rummaged
around for a long pair of tweezers and sterile gloves so she could
remove the bullet. Both were in sealed containers. She balanced
them on Rikka’s shoulder then dug around for a bottle of rubbing
alcohol to drench her hands.

Thud.

Dropping the pack, Shade stepped back and
pulled out her weapon. Rikka looked down at her, wearing a
malevolent sneer that made her blood freeze. Looking around, Shade
couldn’t find the source of the sound, but her sister soon drew her
attention to it with a simple nudge of her toe. A spent,
blood-covered bullet tinkered across the hardwood floor, coming to
a halt inches from Shade’s feet. She looked down at it, willing her
mind to accept what she was seeing. It couldn’t, so she looked up
at her sister for an explanation.

“Like I said, this isn’t over.”

Shade raised her weapon to her sister as she
backed towards the staircase. “Guys,” she said, her voice barely a
whisper as fear threatened to strangle the life from her. She
swallowed and tried again. “Guys,” her voice was louder, but still
tainted by fear. “Hurry up. We’re leaving.”

Daniel and Fievel came running upstairs.
“Everything all right?” Fievel asked, noting the gun.

“No,” she said, taking the book bag, gun, and
sword that was handed to her. “Go out through the back door. I’ll
be right behind you.”

Seeming to sense the urgency in her voice,
Fievel guided Daniel through the house and out the back. When Shade
heard the screen door slam, she eased towards the exit as well, not
taking an eye off her sister for a second.

“I’ll see you soon,” Rikka said, her dead,
black eyes locked on Shade’s.

Shade was tempted to kill her right then and
there. Something told her to just pull the trigger—to end it before
it began. But she couldn’t. Despite everything—despite the years of
abuse, despite the hate she felt for her—Rikka was still her
sister. She couldn’t kill her.

With one final glance at the bullet on the
floor, Shade shrugged her pack higher up on her back and dashed
through the house and out the back door. Her sister’s words echoed
over and over in her mind.

Like I said, this isn’t over. I’ll see you
soon.