Wasteland Rules: Die Fighting (The World After Book 4) (20 page)

   The two surged towards each other with primal
screams. They collided and grappled for position. Grizzly was several inches
taller than Derek and had a much heavier build, his shoulders broad and barrel
chested. As they struggled, Derek realized Grizzly outweighed him by at least a
hundred pounds. Some of it was fat, but a lot of it was muscle. And the man was
deceptively quick.

   He also smelled really, really bad. Derek had
forgotten how bad the man’s personal hygiene was and nearly gagged at the smell.
Grizzly smiled and squeezed Derek in a bear hug, pulling him even closer. Derek
could feel his joints crack as the big bounty hunter squeezed. He head-butted
Grizzly in the face and shattered his nose, causing the big man to drop him
with a scream.

   The bounty hunter staggered back before catching
himself. He shook his head to clear it and blood sprayed from the broken nose.
Grizzly wiped some of the blood away and stared at Derek with eyes full of hate.
He bull rushed Derek, but Derek leapt to the side and the big man crashed into
a support pylon. The whole building shuddered with the impact. The big bounty
hunter roared animalisticaly with anger and bull rushed Derek again. He seemed
to have lost all control and was consumed by a berserker rage.

   Derek avoided his rushes and struck Grizzly as he
went by, but the strikes seemed to have little effect. This was taking too
long, so Derek picked up a metal shelf and smashed Grizzly in the face with it.
He hit him so hard the shelf actually bent around Grizzly’s head. But the big
man refused to go down. He snatched Derek up by his throat and lifted him off
the ground with both hands. Grizzly smiled up at Derek as he squeezed Derek’s
throat.

   “Not so tough now, are you Storm?” The big bounty
hunter snarled.

   “Just so you know. I held back in our arm wrestling
match because I didn’t want to embarrass you too much.” Derek rasped. “If you
weren’t such a jerk about it, I would have given you a rematch and let you
win.”

   Grizzly pulled back a little in surprise and his
grip loosened slightly. Derek took advantage and slammed his hands together in
a clapping motion. His palms struck Grizzly’s forearms hard on the side and
Derek heard the bones crack. You had to be very strong for the technique to
work, but fortunately he was. The large bounty hunters hands snapped open
involuntarily and Derek dropped to his feet. Grizzly looked down in shock and
caught a powerful uppercut to the chin.

   The force lifted Grizzly off of his feet and he
toppled over backwards unconscious. He woke back up when he hit the ground but
it was too late. Derek straddled the bounty hunter’s chest and rained down
blows on his already damaged face. He battered the big man unconscious and then
almost casually, snapped his neck. Rule #3.

   Gathering up the grenade launcher and his other
weapons, Derek strode purposefully towards the front of the store. It was time
to end this. He stormed past Rora and Sterling, both of whom stared at him with
a stunned look. Ignoring the hail of bullets coming into the store, Derek
marched out into the street. Seeing him, the Buckwalds both cheered loudly and
stood up to get a clearer shot at him. Before they could blaze away with their
assault rifles, Derek put a grenade into each ones’ chest. The resulting
explosions blew them back into an abandoned store across the street. Derek
looked at their smoking corpses and then wondered why there wasn’t any more
gunfire. Was Montoya dead?

   The sounds of an engine starting indicated that he
wasn’t. A lightly armored sports car raced away from the scene in a cloud of
dust. It was too far away and at a bad angle for Derek to even attempt a shot.
He would just have to let Montoya go. He doubted the bounty hunter would make
another attempt. Montoya was a very smart man and rarely took on a bounty
unless he thought he could easily complete it. And Derek had proven to be a
very hard bounty to collect.

   Rora and Sterling clambered out of the store to
join him in the street. Both of them looked around at the carnage. The wrecked
and burned RV lay on its side at the checkpoint. There were hundreds, possibly
thousands, of shell casings scattered about on the ground. Bullet holes were in
everything and everywhere. Smoking corpses lay outside and there were mangled
ones inside. The truck with the barrier crane on it looked like a piece of
Swiss cheese it had so many bullet holes. All three watched as the second gas
tank of the armored truck finally blew and the heavily damaged building
collapsed onto the burning wreckage.

   “Good thing you finally joined the fight.” Rora
said jokingly. “We were about to run out of ammo.”

   “What happened back there?” Sterling asked, jerking
his thumb towards the back of the now collapsed store. “We were too busy
holding off the hillbillies to look.”

   “The other bounty hunters made a play for me, but I
sorted them out.” Derek replied casually. “Apparently the big bounty and their
hatred of me inspired them to all work together.”

   “Looks like they still did a number on you.” Rora
pointed out looking at his bloodied and bruised appearance.

   “I’ll live.” Derek said with a grimace as he
plucked out a sabot.

   “What about the one that got away?” Sterling asked.

   “I doubt he is coming back.” Derek replied firmly.

   “What was the deal with the militia at the
checkpoint?” Rora wondered.

   “I think they were merks the bounty hunters paid to
set up a bogus checkpoint to set up their ambush, and they bolted right before
the shooting started.” Derek offered.

   “I don’t think they knew who was in the RV, so I
wouldn’t worry about us having any issues in Wichita with them.” Sterling
added.

   “I’m more worried about how they knew we were in
the RV.” Derek stated with concern. “You said Devil didn’t send a hidden
message during her chat with her handler and the satellites were disabled, so
how could they have known?”

   “Either I missed something, which I doubt. Or the
people running Devil and the others are very clever.” Sterling theorized.

   “So what now?” Rora asked. “It looks like every
ride is destroyed. Go figure.”

   “I guess we walk.” Derek told her with a snort.

Northern Entry Checkpoint, Wichita, Kansas

September 15, 2029

   They arrived at the outskirts of Wichita a few
hours later; dusty, thirsty, and tired. The exurbs and suburbs of Wichita
looked like pretty much every other city in the wasteland. The Collapse,
followed by the Aftermath, and the ravages of Mother Nature and time had
decimated what had once been bustling urban sprawl. Where there had once been
miles and miles of manicured green lawns and thousands upon thousands of cookie
cutter houses, now there were the rotting or burned out ruins of abandoned and
destroyed houses on dusty, weed covered lots.

   The strip malls and shopping malls that had
supported the crowds of suburbanites were vacant and collapsing. Abandoned and
stripped cars and trucks littered the crumbling roads and collapsing bridges.
Empty and desolate, the remains of suburbia gave Derek chills whenever he saw
them. To him, they were a sign of man’s hubris in thinking that he could shape
the world to his liking. Ironically, the Collapse and the Aftermath had
reversed urban flight. Most people moved into a city or town because of the
protection, limited that it may be, of living in a large group. People alone in
the wasteland were usually destined to become victims.

   Wichita had suffered through the food riots that
had struck almost every city and the population had been reduced considerably
by the Aftermath. But many had survived and they had banded together to
rebuild. The frontier spirit was still alive in Wichita. Too far from the
U.S.T.G. to be a tactical target, so far, the U.S.T.G. had raided McConnell Air
Force Base and taken everything of military value. Wichita had been, and still
was, the largest city in Kansas.

   The Great Junk Market had formed somewhat
spontaneously when a group of traders had set up permanent shop at the deserted
Air Force base. Other traders had started to come when larger convoys from
surrounding towns came to the Market to shop. It had grown exponentially after
the Junk Traders had banded together to provide protection to the city. People
migrated to Wichita to provide staffing for the growing service industries that
serviced the merchants and their customers.

   It was an open city, meaning that anyone was
welcome as long as they followed the rules. There weren’t many rules, but
violators were dealt with harshly. The militias were somewhat corrupt, but
their masters made sure they weren’t too abusive. The city had clean water,
access to food, relative security, and jobs. As cities in the wasteland went,
it was a paradise.

   Both the N.R.T. and the U.S.T.G. had been wooing
the Junk Traders to get them to join their respective nations. But the traders
were notoriously independent. They had built up a money making machine and they
lived like kings; none of them wanted to give that up. Sooner or later though,
someone was going to come calling and not take no for an answer.

   They arrived at the northern entrance to the city.
A large steel gate had been erected across Interstate 135 and was guarded by
numerous militiamen on foot and in technicals. They all wore blue jeans,
bulletproof vests over blue jackets of varying styles, and had on blue baseball
caps. All of them carried M-16s or AK-47s. They were dressed and acted much
more professionally than the guards at the bogus checkpoint.

   “Brightman’s guys.” Sterling informed them.

   Byron Brightman was the leader of the largest
faction of Junk Traders and the nominal ruler of Wichita. He was a former
investment banker, and a very clever man. He was also ruthless and greedy.
Derek had him pegged as the guy behind the auction of the computer core.
Controlling entrances to the city and charging an entry fee was only one of the
Junk Traders’ rackets. They also ran all the businesses within the city and
made money off of every activity performed within. But the real money was in
procuring hard to find artifacts or weapons.

   To do that he had an army of scavengers that worked
for him. They scoured the wasteland for anything of value that they could find,
beg, or steal and sold it to him. He cleaned it up and then turned around and
resold it for a profit. In some cases, specialists were sent to “retrieve”
special or valuable items. Maintaining the checkpoints also allowed the Junk
Traders to find out about any new or valuable items that might enter the city,
and therefore might be in their interest to acquire. They also maintained an
informal network of informers around the country that let them know of new
items or specific items buyers were looking for.

   It was very possible Brightman found out about the
core before anyone else recognized its value and had sent agents to acquire it.
It would have been smarter to sell it to a buyer quietly and eliminate any
risk, but the Junk Traders were nothing if not greedy. So they had set up an
auction. Derek knew they were playing with fire. At least one, if not all, of
the factions were likely to resort to violence if they didn’t win the auction.
And that was if the core even made it to auction. If it didn’t, all hell would
probably break loose.

   While they waited in line, Derek surveyed the other
people waiting to enter. There were two lines leading up to the gate. One was
for people on foot, which was surprisingly long; and one for vehicles, which
was actually shorter. A wall of rubble surrounded the city following the path
of the loop of highway that surrounded the city, except where it swooped out to
encompass the old Air Force base. The raised road bed provided natural
protection as did the river to the west. The Junk Traders had used construction
equipment to push rubble from the city into all the underpasses and gaps to
create a barrier impassable to vehicles. The only official entrances were at
the major interchanges.

   People could still sneak in and out, but if you
were caught without a pass the militia had a free hand to deal with you as they
liked. A few public examples of that and the number of people sneaking in had
diminished greatly. Militia patrolled the border, driving around the loop
daily; but if you really wanted in it was still possible to evade them. Derek
and Sterling had agreed it was best to pay the entry fee and get in legally;
they didn’t need any more complications.

     The line moved quickly and they entered without
any trouble. The entry fee was minimal and Sterling paid for all three of them.
The militiamen who collected it only gave them a cursory search and asked a few
quick questions about their business in Wichita. At the end of the inspection
all three were given a laminated card with a number on it and a lanyard. They
were instructed to display it at all times and told what would happen if they
were caught without it. After that, they were waved inside.

   “That was easy.” Rora said in surprise. “What
number are you? I’m 11, 212. Does that mean there are eleven thousand other
visitors already inside?”

   “No, I’m 5,657.” Derek replied glancing at his
card. “So it’s probably random to some extent.”

  “Couldn’t people make fake cards?” Rora asked. “They
seem pretty simple.”

   “Not exactly.” Sterling told her. “There is an
invisible watermark only visible under black light on the back of the card.
They change it every so often to prevent counterfeiting.”

   “That’s actually pretty clever.” Rora responded.
“I’m a little surprised at their level of sophistication.”

   “Don’t be.” Sterling told her. “These guys may act
like Mafia dons, but they are businessmen first. They want to make sure they
get their money.”

   The three of them entered the city and found
themselves in a wide open plaza that looked like it had once been an industrial
site. Hundreds of people were milling around preparing for their visit to the
city or trying to take advantage of the visitors. Makeshift booths housed
vendors hawking food and maps. Shills approached them with brochures for women
and gambling. Derek scared them off with a glare and looked around for a ride.

   The junk Market was on the southeastern edge of the
city and that was a long walk. Many parts of the city were blocked, mostly
residential areas; but there were also some light manufacturing areas. Derek
had heard rumors that the Junk Traders had gathered some skilled labor together
and had restarted some of the manufacturing facilities once housed in Wichita.
Airplane manufacturing had once been big here, but the need had more or less
vanished during the Aftermath. But with increasing instability and conflict
came opportunity. Maybe now there was a Market for new planes, especially the
smaller ones previously built here.

   He spotted a beat up flatbed truck with people
loading onto it. Derek gestured for Rora and Sterling to follow him and they
approached the driver. A few N.R.T. dollars later they were crammed on with
dozens of others headed to the Great Junk Market. The trip didn’t last long and
was pretty much a straight shot down Interstate 135 until they exited at the
southern end of the city to head to the Market. All of the exits along the
highway, except for the interchange with US 400, were blocked off and a razor
wire fence ran along the road on both sides. The Interstate ran above ground
level so they got a good view of the city.

   Much of the city was in ruins due to neglect or
disaster damage caused during the Aftermath. But some parts seemed quite
vibrant, with the tiny little figures of people walking in the streets. Derek
noted that there were hardly any vehicles traversing those same streets. He
also saw several park areas that looked like they had been converted to
pastures and there were large fields of crops within the city near the much reduced
river.

   It looked like Wichita was either self-sufficient
or largely self-sufficient. The resiliency of human beings was amazing. They
had adapted and even thrived in a harsh environment that was very different
from the one many were born into. The inhabitants of the city may be
struggling, but they were doing it on their own. The Junk Traders may tax them
in some way, but they still had more freedom than anyone in the U.S.T.G. Derek
very much admired that independent spirit.

   Their ride dropped them off at the edge of the
Great Junk Market and then began picking up people for the return journey. They
mixed in with the crowd entering the Market and strolled around looking at
items and pretending to be buyers. Derek led them slowly towards the main
buildings on the western edge of the Market. The Junk Traders maintained their
headquarters there and that was where the auction was likely to be.

   Thousands of stalls spread out in front of the main
buildings with the control tower looming over all of it. Militiamen with
binoculars and sniper rifles manned the tower, watching for any sign of
trouble. Derek also knew that a small rapid reaction force with heavily armed
and armored technicals waited in a nearby hangar in case they were needed. The
main buildings were surrounded with concrete barriers and lots of guards. There
were even a few old M-113 APCs with heavy machine guns on top stationed there.

   It was very heavily guarded and would be impossible
for Derek to assault. Security was also very tight and would be even tighter
for the auction. The convoy to bring it from the secure location they had
stashed it in would also be very heavily armed and armored. Sterling was right;
they needed to get the Junk Traders to move the core in a hurry so they could
steal it.

   “All right, what’s your plan?” He asked turning to Sterling.

   “You break into Brightman’s compound.” Sterling
said flatly.

   “Are you insane?” Derek asked incredulously.
“That’s probably the only place more heavily guarded than this.”

   “Yes and no.” Sterling explained patiently. “The
residential sections are well guarded, but I think you can access the service
area. Remember we don’t need to steal the core, we just need to get them to
move it.”

  “What do you mean residential sections?” Rora asked.

   “The Junk Traders all have fortified compounds
along the river near downtown.” Sterling told her. “They took over and
converted the luxury hotels into their personal castles. They live on the top
floors in the big suites or penthouses and their followers live below them
descending down based on rank.”

   “Clever.” Rora said with a nod. “The hotels have
kitchens, laundry, and maintenance already set up. Almost like a self-contained
city.”

   “Exactly.” Sterling agreed with a smile. “And that
is where Derek can get in. Those areas are much more lightly guarded, and I
happen to know of a large security flaw in Brightman’s building.”

   “How could there be a large flaw?” Derek asked
scornfully. “His security has been over that place with a fine tooth comb by
now.”

   “Because they think it is impossible for anyone to
reach this entrance. But impossible is what you do.” Sterling replied
confidently. “Remember all you need to do is get inside and look like someone
is trying to steal the core. You don’t actually need to steal it. Although if
the opportunity presents itself…”

   “I’m pretty sure it won’t just be lying around.”
Derek said sarcastically. “And how will we know if the plan is working? If the
core is somewhere else we wouldn’t know if it was being moved.”

   “An excellent point.” Sterling said with a smile as
he held up a small device. “That is why you are going to plant these listening
devices as you go. We will be able to use the Voice to listen in on them after
you leave. I’m sure they will tell us where the device is and any plans for
it.”