Touch had cleaned and reset the trap, then pulled out his sabers and covered them in leaves. They set the div, named Arch by his collar, in another concealed spot, beside some food and water. Rachel threw on her dark-purple hoodie and let down her hair. She holds the pistol close, safety on, finger off the trigger.
“If it’s only one or two, we take them down and interrogate them. If it’s more, we follow them. Agreed?”
“I think we can take on more than that.” She bites back.
Touch thinks about it.
“It depends how many guns they have. Even taking them by surprise, I think four is the max we can handle, and no more than two guns.“
“Fine. What about him?” She nods toward Arch’s position.
“I’m concerned he’ll wake as the hunters approach, but there isn’t much to do about that. I don’t want to move him again. If he runs, he runs. We’ve done all we can for him. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t, and we find him a home.”
It is well past noon when they hear people walking through the woods, approaching from the opposite direction they came from. They both straighten at the distant murmur of voices. Tense at the snapping of twigs. They slowly rise and press themselves against the trees. Rachel’s mouth goes dry when she peeks around for a split second to see three people approach. A large man on the right, rifle slung over his shoulder, navy blue jacket and a trucker hat, similar to the one she wore when heading into town. In the center was a comparatively small, deeply tanned woman with a jet black ponytail, tank-top, cargo pants, boots, and fingerless gloves. Left was a guy in a thick suit, holding two heavy duty pet carriers.
Touch and Rachel look to each other as they grow near. Touch, both sabers in hand, props his elbow against the tree, and shows Rachel four slate-gray fingers. He folds one down as their voices grow louder.
Three.
“Where y’all going to eat after this?” the muffled voice on the left asks.
“Back home.” A gruff voice on the right drawls. Touch folds down another finger.
Two.
“Nothing here.” The small girl in the center. Touch pauses.
“Wait.” The girl says. The footsteps grow closer. Touch holds up a single finger.
One. Rachel can smell the sweat on them.
“Check this-”
Touch makes a fist and they both move. Rachel levels the gun at the large man with the rifle.
“Hands up.” They say in unison.
“What the-” The man in the suit says, then drops the pet carriers.
The three of them look to each other, slowly raising their hands. The woman rises from a crouch over the trap. Touch keeps one folded saber-point leveled at her and one leveled at the suit. He looks them over.
“Your rifle.” Rachel says to the large man. He slowly drops it from his shoulder, holding it upright, and hands it to her. She could never bring herself to shoot someone. She's thinking about kneeing him in the gut if he tries anything. Rachel takes the heavy brown and black rifle with one hand and shoulders it herself.
“Arms out wide.” Touch commands. They comply. He replaces his swords in his belt and pats them down, confiscating a multi-tool from the girl. He has the other guy strip out of his suit. Both animal carriers are empty. He takes their phones and their wallets, then zip-ties their hands.
“You have more mutes. I want them.” Touch says. He takes the pistol from Rachel while she gears up.
“Listen, we got more than you two can carry, i-if you want a cut of the profit we can wor-”
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Touch points the gun at him, or rather, he casts his searing glare in his direction, the pistol casually following.
“Did I say anything about profit? Do you know who I am?”
The three glue their eyes to the ground.
“The Golem.” The woman speaks up after a pause.
“Correct. And have I ever allowed anyone to set up this kind of operation before?”
They all avert their eyes.
“Who’s in charge?”
The two men reflexively dart their gaze to the girl, then back to the ground.
“And who do you answer to?” Touch asks the girl.
She hesitates, then releases a deep breath that wasn't as shaky as Rachel would expect.
“I’m partnered with Mr. Alistair. I catch them. He takes care of the rest.”
Rachel takes watch over their prisoners. Touch collects his gear. He comes out holding Arch, and sticks him in the top of his pack. His curious fox head poking out.
“We have a new friend.” he says. He picks up the miniature bear trap that started all this. There was still a little blood in the teeth. He throws it deeper into the woods.
“Let’s move.” He says.
Touch questions them as they walk. They explain that after divs and people started fleeing from the bounty hunters and mercenaries; it became profitable to start picking up strays around Bevmond. The woman, Jani, and a few of her friends, quit their previous jobs on farms, hunting, and waiting tables to join the frenzy. They teamed up with a local trader, who used his knowledge and connections to legitimize their business and cash the corporate bounties.
“You can’t turn us in, everything we’re doing is perfectly le-” He falls silent as Touch stares at him. Realization dawns on this dimwit. He really thought they were turning them in.
“W-what’re you gonna do to us?”
They all stop. Touch meets each of their gazes in turn. Again, that look that sent chills down Rachel’s spine. She won’t hurt them. She wouldn’t go that far. But the look on Touch’s face told a different story.
He continues to stare at them.
“You have three options. One, hand over your inventory to my people and find another line of work. Two, run very very far away, and hope I never find you. And three, keep doing things I. Don’t. Like.”
He pauses.
“And a fourth option. You work for me. And play by my rules.”
The three of them recoil from the shock. Rachel feels her eyes popping out of her head. Jani is first to recover.
“What would we be doing, exactly?” She asks slowly.
“The exact opposite of what you’re doing now. You’ll be helping divs and fugitives avoid capture. You will help whoever crosses your path, and whoever I send you.” Touch says, sounding like his reasonable self again.
“And you will never use those traps again.” And back to the death glare.
Rachel doubts she could get used to that. Was it an act, or did he really have such a bone chilling temper? Or worse, was his normal self the act?
“In return?”
“If you need something, ask for it, and I’ll have my people get it to you.”
They all look at each other.
“Think it over. I’ll leave my contact info with you after I empty your inventory. Give Mr. Alistair the same deal I gave you. And know I’ll be watching.”
The air changed. Rachel smells asphalt and smoke. They were close to town.
“Where’s your warehouse?” She asks.
“On the outskirts, northwest side. I’ll take you to it.”
They circle around town, Jani in the lead. They stay well clear of any voices and sounds from town, eventually arriving at a small cabin right next to a pond and surrounded by a waist high wooden fence. Behind the cabin was a barn.
“This used to be the HQ to the park around here.” Jani explains.
“It better be empty, or an animal sanctuary, by the time I check on it again.” Touch states.
Jani calls out the remaining two traffickers. One emerges from the barn in another bulky suit, the other with a rifle from the cabin. Touch disarms and searches them, while Rachel holds everyone at gunpoint. He calls Jani into the cabin.
Before sunset, some men arrive in a box truck. With the help of their hostages, they load all the divs into the truck before driving off without a word. Rachel and Touchstone cut the rest of everyone’s ties and leave, taking one hunting rifle and all the ammo for the other gun. Jani did not look happy. Touch leaves with a broad smile engraved in his granite features.
“What happened, exactly?” Rachel asks.
“In exchange for their lives, I had them, and Alistair, use all the profits they made to pay Jonah’s gang to take the divs and deliver them all across the countryside to places like Tara’s.”