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Laramie stared downrange at the target. Extra practice. I’m dusting tired of this. Next time Gered is pretending to suck.
Next time. She shook her head at herself. Hopefully there wouldn’t be another instance of having to escape a warlord’s gangs.
Harlan was long gone, as were the other trainees. She halfway thought of pretending to have practiced again and then just head in for lunch. She rolled her shoulders. Maybe she’d skip lunch and spend it in the garage working on the bikes. Rosche’s interruption the day before meant she hadn’t finished working on her bike.
Laramie risked a glance over her shoulder. For all she knew, Harlan was standing on the walls behind her, sighting her shots. She rolled her eyes. I’m getting too paranoid here.
She brought her pistol up, aimed, and emptied the mag, pulling four shots out of the bullseye. Sliding it free, she reloaded and did the same with the second mag.
Slightly better accuracy than the day before. It still galled her to miss that badly. She holstered her gun, her extra practice complete, and headed toward the gate.
Laramie paused between the trainees’ garage and the tower. She’d have to walk past Rosche’s domain. Going to dinner the night before had been bad enough after the search that afternoon. She’d snagged a nutrient bar for breakfast so she didn’t have to go.
I should have thought ahead for lunch too.
But with the threat of Rosche, and the glares of Zelig, lunch had no appeal. She turned toward the trainees’ garage instead.
A light breeze stirred the dust and helped wick away some of the perpetual sweat beading her brow. She left the garage door open for better light and to keep encouraging the breeze. The others would return after lunch and she’d meet back up with them. Maybe Axel would be smart enough to bring her something after she didn’t show.
She shook her head and sank down onto the low stool, pulling the toolbox over. That might be an unrealistic expectation.
A shadow fell across the bike. She kept her head down, turning slightly to see who it was from the corner of her eye.
She swallowed hard.
Zelig.
Laramie forced her hands to keep working. “What do you want?”
“I want to know how you did it.”
“Did what?” She eased her feet back.
“Hid that device.”
A smirk she knew she’d regret quirked her lips. “What device?”
His growl put a jacklion to shame. “You made me a fool.”
That’s not hard.
She dropped one hand.
“You’ll pay for that.”
She bolted to her feet, twisting to meet him as he lunged forward. His weight knocked her backward, stumbling over the stool. She regained her balance, using her wrench as a knife and jabbing it into his ribs.
After one hit, he danced away, rage clouding his eyes. She readjusted her grip, staying in a low crouch, waiting for his next move. He stalked forward, blocking her strike and pinning her arm under his.
She followed the motion in, jamming her free fist into his stomach. His breath blew out, but he kept his hold. She punched twice more and was rewarded by a faint loosening of his grip. She spun free. He kicked out as she stumbled back and she barely blocked.
He kept up a steady barrage of kicks and punches, keeping her off balance. Her knuckles broke open under a strike she managed to put on him.
Frustration turned to concern as he drove her back, back, back, into the work bench at the wall.
She grunted as her back hit the unyielding metal. Ducking his next punch, she dropped her shoulder to drive into his stomach and push him back. His elbow crashed down on her back. She hit her knee with a breathless grunt. She kept falling, rolling onto her side and over her shoulder, intending to come up on her feet.
But another kick kept the breath from her lungs. Zelig knocked her back down to the ground, straddling her hips, hands closing around her neck. Tighter...tighter...
Reflexive panic sent her thrashing until her training set back in.
“Where is it?” he snarled, spit flying onto her cheek.
“Shift off!” Laramie rasped past his hold.
She wrapped her foot around his before pummeling the crook of his elbow with a fist. Her other hand went for his face as he pitched forward, pushing his chin up. She bucked her hips. It shifted his weight enough to allow her to knock him off.
Zelig grabbed her as she tried to roll away, yanking her back down to the ground. He picked her up by her jacket and slammed her back down. Black clouded her vision as her head cracked against the ground. His hands closed around her neck again.
“I know you have it. You don’t want me as an enemy.”
Laramie wheezed past his grip. She pulled her knife and jabbed it into his thigh.
He released her, curses pouring from his mouth as he grabbed his bleeding leg. Laramie rolled on her side, hacking and gasping for breath.
“Bitch!” he snarled.
She forced herself up onto hands and knees, then to her feet, holding her knife in front of her. She cursed herself for not reloading her gun. But maybe he didn’t need to know that.
Her knife traded hands and she yanked the pistol out. Zelig didn’t look the least bit concerned at the weapons pointed at him.
“Kill me and Rosche will know you’re hiding something.” He slowly gained his feet.
Laramie fought her body’s attempts to cough air and feeling back to her throat.
“You keep coming after me, I will kill you,” she rasped, spit beading the corners of her mouth. “Shift off.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t get too cocky, drifter.”
“Out.” Her throat spasmed again and her gun wavered.
He limped past her, turning one more warning glare at her. “Rosche won’t be kept waiting.”
Zelig vanished into the bright afternoon sunlight bouncing off the concrete, leaving a spotted blood trail behind. Laramie managed to holster her gun before staggering back into the tool bench and sliding down to the ground.
A sob broke before she could stop it. Her knife trembled in her hand and she almost cut herself trying to wipe Zelig’s blood off.
She closed her eyes, breathing in, out, in, out until her heart steadied.
“Laramie?” Boots thudded toward her. Her eyes flew open, ready to stab again until her brain registered Axel barreling toward her.
“What happened?” He sank to his knee beside her.
She gingerly rubbed her neck, imagining she could feel indents in the skin where Zelig’s fingers had squeezed.
“I guess I really pissed Zelig off yesterday,” she managed.
“That thing they think you have?” His eyes radiated concern as he looked her up and down.
She managed a nod.
“Do you have it?”
She trusted Axel but wasn’t about to let him in on the secret. Zelig would crush the kid.
“They didn’t find anything, did they?”
His lips turned down, but he eased back to allow her to shakily stand.
“What the hell?” Harlan strode in. He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. She kept her hands away from her neck.
“Little disagreement carried over from yesterday, sir.” Another cough tore from her aching throat.
He shook his head. “You the reason for this blood?” He pointed a finger at the small pool and the dribbles leading outside.
Laramie patted her knife as answer. It was only the third time she’d stabbed someone with the knife, but this time she had absolutely no regret.
“Guess you do know something after all.”
She bristled a little. Not my fault I’m pretending to suck.
Harlan softened a fraction. “You want to take the afternoon?”
She’d love nothing more than to barricade herself in the room and wait for Unit Four to get back. But she couldn’t afford to show weakness. And it was a long walk back to the bunker. Someone else could be lying in wait.
“No. I’ll finish out today.”
A bit of respect edged Harlan’s grunt. “That bike up and running yet?”
Laramie took one more breath. “Give me ten minutes.”
~
Axel walked with her to Four’s bunker after dinner. He’d done it without being asked, without saying anything. She probably should have refused in order to not present a façade of weakness, but her heart warmed a little more toward the kid.
Evening cast long shadows across the compound. Each darkened corner sent her heart skipping in fear. She kept one hand on her knife, trying to scold herself into calmness. But then the flash of Zelig’s hands around her throat returned and sent her flinching.
“Sure you’re okay?” he asked when they reached the building.
Laramie nodded, not trusting her still-raspy voice beyond a “Thanks.”
He watched in silence as she punched in the code for the garage and hauled it open. She didn’t much feel like running into Unit Five still camped out upstairs.
“See you tomorrow.” She flashed a smile and ducked under the door.
Relief crashed through her at the dusty bikes filling the left side of the garage. Unit Four was back.
She flipped the light on and eased the door back down. Fresh gasoline and dirt mingled with the sharper scent of grease. Familiar. Calming.
Laramie wove through the motorcycles to her bike, strange compulsion taking her to make sure her things hadn’t been searched again. The bulky motorcycle stood untouched against the wall. Her breath of relief caught in her throat as something scuffed behind her.
She whirled, knife drawn.
