Freedom Incorporated by Peter Tylee (me reader .txt) 📖

him squarely in an unpleasant mood.

Adrian was studying a map, turning it around with each twist of the dusty road to keep it pointing straight. “It should be about two miles.”

“Which side of the road?” A grinding sound screeched from the mortified gearbox as Junior selected a lower gear and revved the engine to mount a steep incline in the road.

“Uh…” Adrian adjusted his glasses before answering, “Right.”

The tachometer redlined with Junior’s punishment. “Right.”

“No!” Adrian changed his mind. “I mean left.”

“Left? You’re sure.”

“Uh…” Adrian spun the map again. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Right.”

“Shut the fuck up you clowns.” Esteban wasn’t in the mood for their antics. “Just remember what you’re supposed to do.”

“How could we forget?” Junior punctuated his rhetorical question with another shift in the stick and another grind from the gears. The four-wheel drive had high ground clearance to cope with the rough Australian conditions and it felt as if he was driving a truck. It ran on diesel rather than petroleum-replacement fuel and was therefore difficult to stall. Somehow, he’d managed twice in town.

“Here!” Adrian pointed to his left. “Right here!”

Junior spun the wheel sharply and their land cruiser careered over an embankment and dipped sharply back to earth with a crunch that nearly landed Adrian’s head on the dashboard.

Esteban wasn’t wearing a seatbelt but he’d braced himself firmly against the two seats in front and taken the impact with his arms. Perfect. He swept the scene and changed his fluid plans in an instant. “Go, go! There!” He slapped Junior in the shoulder and pointed out the windscreen. “Quick!”

He recognised her, even from a distance. It was the way she walked. Jennifer Cameron. A twisted grin lit Esteban’s face and he gripped the stock of his automatic rifle and grunted doggedly. Die bitch. He pressed the button to lower his power window and swung the barrel out before gently squeezing the trigger. Three rounds burst with a flash from the muzzle, visible even in the dazzle of the desert. He saw three distinct puffs of dirt explode on her left. He hadn’t intended to hit her, though the rocking of their vehicle made for a dicey game. One stray round was enough to splatter her brains over the baked ground for the scavengers to feed upon. He was trying to avoid that.

Another squeeze and the rifle recoiled, again pummelling his shoulder. This time there were four quick kicks amid the deafening bark of automatic fire. He was herding her away from the reflective orange plates that warned approaching vehicles of Dan’s underground abode. If I can nab her before she reaches the house… It was too perfect to have planned. Only luck and chance could deliver something so divinely flawless.

Junior swerved just as Esteban put pressure on the trigger and a burst of fire swept perilously past Jen. Esteban lowered the weapon to make sure she was still alive. Three rounds puffed into the ground hazardously close, passing half a metre from her fragile body. Okay, that’s too close. Esteban lowered the rifle and reached for his Peacemaker, better suited for close range. They were near enough to make out the startled expression on her face and it thrilled him in a sadistic way. She was sprinting now, running for her life. Not that it’ll do you any good, honey.

A bullet shattered the rear window and Esteban swept the horizon for anything he’d missed. There, by the cells. It was Dan. Only he would’ve had the wits and guts to fire upon a four-wheel drive full of men with automatic weapons.

“Cover him!” Esteban shouted above the revving engine.

“I see it.” Adrian used his scope, pressing his glasses as close as he dared without the two surfaces touching. He squeezed his trigger and a volley of .303 calibre bullets zinged through the air and shredded a thermo-cell.

Esteban slapped Junior on the shoulder. “Pull up beside her.”

He swerved to obey and easily intercepted Jen before she could reach a copse of trees. Adrian laid additional covering fire and splintered more of Dan’s thermo-cells while Esteban opened his door and knocked Jen to the ground.

She twisted underneath him, trying to squirm onto her back where she’d have a chance to claw out his eyes. But his heftier frame and vicelike grip were too much. He subdued her by twisting her arms behind her back and wrenching them high. She moaned with pain. Any more pressure and her shoulders would pop, tearing her arms from their sockets. Jen kicked with her feet, trying to dig a heel into his back, but he was too far forward.

“Get off me!” Her breathing was weak; the fall had knocked the wind out of her.

“Not likely.” Esteban yanked her to her feet with calculated force, jolting her with pain. Any harder and he would’ve shattered her shoulders beyond repair. He quickly wrapped piano wire around her wrists, securing them behind her back. It cut into her flesh, biting deeper the more she resisted. “Is that too tight?”

All Jen could do was nod, her face pale from a nauseating combination of shock and pain.

“Good.” Esteban tugged her arms apart, the action leaving her ill to her core. The slightest pressure sent waves of agony shooting up from her wrists. She had no options left, or none that she was willing to take. Nothing was worth severing her hands. Already the razor-like wire had sliced a neat circle around each wrist and it was threatening to start on her tendons and bones. If Esteban had wanted, he could’ve wrenched her elbows apart and cut her tendons, making her fingers limp and useless. But he didn’t. He had something more insidious in mind. “Now get in.”

Blinded by pain and the sudden flood of light, Jen obeyed. Her sunglasses lay smashed in the dirt. Disorientated and dazed, she stepped one leg after the other into the air-conditioned land cruiser. In the distance she heard a shot, then another, but they were soon drowned by rapid gunfire from the cabin of her waiting vehicle.

Esteban retrieved his rifle and peered cautiously toward the thermo-cells. “Where is he?” He looked through his scope, scouring the land for Dan.

“Next to the cells,” Adrian replied, wondering how many brittle sheets of thermoplastic his bullets could penetrate.

“Don’t kill him,” Esteban ordered. His devilish mind had cooked a special recipe for Dan’s torment, a fitting punishment for causing his premature fieldwork retirement. Another .45 round twanged into the land cruiser’s chassis. “You understand? I don’t want him dead.”

*

Panic gripped Dan’s throat. He couldn’t see her anymore. Is she dead? There was something on the ground that could have been Jen and it sent a shrill spike of terror through his mind. He wished he had better cover than the flimsy thermo-cells. He eyed a dip in the ground ten metres away with desire. But they have automatics. He gave his Colt a disgusted look. It was practically useless at this range; he wasn’t that good a shot. More unnerving was the thought that if he kept firing he might accidentally kill Jen. He hugged the frame with a grimace and peered through a bullet hole punctured in the cell material.

It wasn’t the Raven. He had a vastly different operating pattern and always worked alone. But who is it? The question nagged at the back of his mind.

UniForce? He couldn’t think of anyone else who could assemble that much firepower so quickly.

He fired another two shots, giving Jen a wide berth, and was alarmed to hear one of his bullets strike metal. The wind was picking up, sending dust swirls to obscure his vision and make his trajectory unpredictable. The tiny particles of dirt stung his eyes and were gritty in his mouth, tasting like mud. He used the whirlwind as cover and dashed for the ditch, rolling into it with the all the grace and aplomb of a maimed elephant. But immediately he felt safer. A string of bullets thudded into the ground around his head and he hunkered low, giving them as little as possible to shoot at. He had a significant disadvantage. The last thing he wanted was to harm Jen, so he didn’t want to risk returning fire. I’m a sitting duck. Dan punched the ground in frustration and peeked above his mound, praying they’d be foolish enough to close in on his position.

I’ve lost. The truth tasted like poison. He wondered how he’d erred so badly. And now my foolishness has cost Jen her life.

*

“He’s holed up pretty good.” Adrian massaged his trigger with the sensitive pad on his right index finger, gratified when the weapon recoiled once in response. He saw the clod of dirt kicked up through the swirl in the air and spat on the ground to clear the dust from his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter.” Esteban sneered. “We’ve got all we need.”

He pushed Jen roughly to her side on the backseat, enjoying her wince of pain. He reached for the long metal canister at her feet and pulled it free. It was light, made of high-polymer plastics and strengthened with ribbons of aluminium. He mounted the weapon on his shoulder and pressed the activation button, which caused the scope to drop from its recess. He closed his other eye, concentrating on the aim. He targeted Dan’s hollow and jammed his thumb on the firing mechanism. With a flare of smoke, a grenade-like projectile rocketed from the gaping hole at the front of the canister. It wasn’t a lethal weapon, or wasn’t supposed to be, though sometimes people with a weak constitution succumbed to it. It arced blindly through the sky, buffeted by the winds in a haphazard dance that landed it five metres from Dan. Upon impact it detonated with a swirl of purple reagent, which quickly engulfed area. It was a biochemical gas used to subdue crowds, which had gained infamy during the riots of the ’20s and ’30s.

“Goodnight Daniel.” Esteban leered, lowering the single-shot rocket launcher.

“Can we go now?” Junior hung out the driver’s side window, agitated by the worsening dust storm and the potential for unfriendly fire. “I’m not fishing him out of that shit.”

“We don’t have to.” Esteban smiled again, marvelling at his genius. “His torture’s only just begun.” He clambered onto the backseat with Jen, slammed the door, and invited Junior to plant his foot on the accelerator.

Their balding tyres spun twice before gripping the loose surface and their transport lurched forward.

“Who are you?” Jen abandoned her attempt to sit up; the searing pain from the piano wire was too much.

Esteban raised an eyebrow and a jovial grin parted his lips. “You don’t recognise me?” He tossed his small-bore rifle into the trunk and tucked his Peacemaker into its holster.

“Should I?” Tears of pain were blurring her vision.

“It’ll come back to you.” Esteban’s laughter struck a chord of dread in the pit of Jen’s stomach. She heard tones of her death in his mirth. The land rover rocked when they rejoined the road, jarring her wrists with another snippet of pain.

“What do you want?” Jen braved the agony and squirmed to something that resembled a sitting position by leveraging herself against the opposite door.

He licked his lips. “I want to play with you for a while.” He ran a rough hand through her hair and pulled her head back until it struck the glass, bearing her slender neck for his inspection. He leant forward and caressed her skin with the tip of his nose as he inhaled deeply, savouring the smell.

Jen squirmed in revulsion but the wire snaring her wrists prevented her from retaliating. Her next words dripped with animosity. “You twisted fuck,” she spat. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“Ah, Jennifer, you