The girl stood up. She felt nothing, despite having killed a man- perhaps it was the fact that he had tried to murder the Gunrunner, or the fact that it had been so easy, so simple, to slide the blade past his skin and into his defenseless neck. She snapped out of her reverie, and crouched down next to the unconscious form of the Gunrunner. After slapping him lightly, to which there was no response, she determined that he would likely not wake any time soon.
This posed a problem- the dead man would be discovered sooner or later, and she and the Gunrunner would have to escape before then. Having to answer to law enforcement would bring nothing but problems. However, she was nowhere near strong enough to drag the Gunrunner around, so how would she do it? When she dragged the unconscious form of the Gunrunner out into the hallway, she saw her answer.
She took one more look around the room, to see if she was leaving anything behind. A glint under the bed caught her eye, and she drew the would-be murderer's knife from underneath the bed, unnoticed in the heat of battle. It was a fine blade- although no doubt used to take many lives- and it would be very useful to her, along with the knife the Gunrunner bought for her.
There was an unused luggage cart placed against the wall. She adjusted the Gunrunner to the best of her abilities, and wheeled the cart to the stairs. It would be a rough ride, but the Gunrunner wouldn't be awake to feel it. Or, at least, she hoped.
After four floors of loud clattering, muttered curses and much manhandling of a poor bruised body, the girl wheeled the cart out of the stairwell and out the doors of the motel, barely sparing the dead young man a glance. To her, he was simply another body to be noticed, a mere minor inconvenience. The fact that his body was so noticeable was a more pressing concern, and she took a moment to drag him behind the counter, although she couldn't really do anything about the bloodstains unless she took the time to find a mop and water.
Outside, the cover of the night helped her proceed unnoticed. What few people who were outside at that time weren't very interested in the little girl. People went about their own business. It never paid to be nosy.
Of course, this meant nothing to pedophiles, like the one who attempted to accost the girl as she resolutely continued pushing the cart.
"Where are you going, little lady?"
The girl ignored him, and walked past him. His wide smile turned into a frown, although it wasn't visible in the dim light. However, he wasn't dissuaded. In this cruel post-apocalyptic world, children were conditioned to be wary of everything. Such a reaction wasn't entirely unexpected.
"Isn't it a little late for you to be out without your parents?"
This time he stood in front of the cart, and then noticed the body sprawled on the cart. His eyes widened, jaw dropping as he watched the girl. And then he noticed the girl showed no signs of slowing, and hastily jumped out of the way, avoiding a possibly nasty death by being crushed under a hotel luggage cart.
And then his mind considered the possibility that the man on the cart was her father, and that perhaps he had gotten so drunk that he passed out and she had to cart him home. Yes, that might be the case, he thought. What a wonderful chance- he would be able to kidnap the girl and deal with a possibly vengeful parent at the same time.
And then he made a fatal mistake.
He dismissed her ignoring him as a simple childish fear of strangers- nothing more. If he knew exactly what was going through the girl's head, he surely wouldn't have attempted to assault her.
The man feigned disinterest, leaning against a nearby wall, watching the girl leave out of the corner of his right eye. And then he began sneaking towards the girl. He was sure the girl wouldn't hear him approach, not over the clattering of the cart. When he was close enough, he suddenly grabbed her from the back, pinning her arms to her sides, while blocking her mouth with his left hand. He frowned, surprised by the lack of resistance. No matter. An unresisting victim was easier to handle than one that fought back.
The girl was extremely exasperated with the assailant. Really, did he think that just because her arms were pinned, she wouldn't be able to retaliate? Her annoyance only grew when he ran into an alley, and pinned her against the wall, attempting to pull down her pants. While he was busy undoing his own fly, she discreetly checked that both of her knives were within easy reach. She watched as a lump of flesh spilled from his undone zipper, which he stroked in an attempt to quickly cause it to engorge. This was her chance, and she took it.
She drew the army knife out of its sheath. The man's eyes widened as he looked up from his cock and noticed what she was doing.
She drew it back. The man stumbled backwards, suddenly so scared of the child he had been about to rape.
The knife whistled through the air, aimed unerringly at its target.
It cut through the tip of the assailant's member, splitting it in half, until it was buried to the hilt in his crotch. The girl offered him no respite, as she tugged the knife upwards, cutting the skin to the front of his body in half. She didn't stop until the knife cut into the flesh of his neck, then thrust vertically, buring itself in the underside of his chin, piercing through his tongue and the roof of his mouth, up through the nasal cavity, and into his brain.
The man's body fell limp, blood trickling to the ground. The girl pulled the knife out of his head, and wiped it on his clothes. The murder would no doubt be attributed to an unknown murderer with a knife, who killed three people in a rampage and then suddenly disappeared.
She walked back out of the alley and resumed pushing the cart.
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The girl didn't encounter any assailants after that, although she did come against an obstacle she hadn't considered.
She would need to find a safe place to stay for the night, but she doubted that anyone would allow a little girl accompanied by an unconscious, bloody man to stay in their establishment for longer than the time needed to tell them to leave. This ruled out any place she could rent using the Gunrunner's money, which meant she would need to use one of the abandoned apartments.
The city was littered with such apartments, easily identifiable due to their usually scorched exteriors and crumbling architecture. Such apartments had been abandoned ever since the Scourge, and although the city had tried its best to get rid of all traces of the nanomachines the abandoned apartments stayed abandoned, due to a combination of fear for any lingering traces of the Scourge and superstition about ghosts that may possibly reside in them.
The girl had no knowledge of either, of course. She had simply seen that some apartments were unoccupied, and thought that she could use them as a safe haven until the Gunrunner woke up. Soon enough, she had come by a block of abandoned apartments, with a radius of roughly three buildings.
The lack of elevators irked her greatly- she wasn't looking forward to dragging the Gunrunner up stairs, and there weren't any rooms on the first floor of the building she chose. She pushed the limp body off the cart, grabbed him under the shoulders and began the long and arduous journey to the second floor. There the rooms were in various states of disrepair, from simple, bare rooms to rooms filled with refuse and debris. She chose one of the empty rooms, and closed the door behind her. The electronic lock on it had failed to work long ago, but security wasn't what she was looking for, anyway.
From the Gunrunner's pack she took the tarp and spread it on the ground, providing a rather thin layer between the floor and their bodies for comfort. She then searched through the pack, looking for medical supplies. After minutes of searching she finally found an unmarked bottle she ascertained as alcohol after taking a whiff and some bandages. They would have to do.
The Gunrunner's face was badly swollen, and he was missing several teeth, but the most worrying injury was his broken nose. The girl, having no knowledge of proper rhinoplasty techniques, did her best with what she had. First she washed her hands with a liberal dose of alcohol, then sprinkled it on his nose for good measure. She then attempted to push the broken bones back into a vaguely nose-like shape, which she did for multiple hours, the Gunrunner occasionally letting out a pained grunt. After she was satisfied with her work, she used the bandages to make a makeshift protective splint that covered his nose and prevented the pieces from shifting around too much. By the time she was finished, dawn had arrived, and she collapsed from exhaustion, lying on top of the Gunrunner as if he was a large hug pillow.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
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The Gunrunner woke to a massive headache, which was understandable considering the beating he had taken the previous night. His mind was rather muddled, but as his brain started working again he suddenly panicked, worrying for the girl. The he noticed that she was asleep on top of him, hugging him tightly, the gentle sounds of her breathing easing his worries. He relaxed, and began patting the girl's head idly as he tried to recall what had happened.
He had checked into a motel. Then he had been woken by a suspicious room service delivery- and the man was actually an assassin! Now it was coming together- he remembered how he had blacked out in the middle of the brutal beating he had received, and he gingerly touched his nose to find the splint there. He looked down at the girl's tousled hair, impressed, then his thoughts turned to the assassin. Who had he been? And more importantly, where was he now? He turned his head to look around the room he was in, but it was completely bare- which told him that it was an abandoned apartment. His memories told him that the assassin was still alive and well, but the fact that he was still breathing contradicted that. Surely the assassin would have taken the opportunity to kill him?
At that moment, the girl woke up, roused by the patting. She looked up and smiled at the Gunrunner, who smiled back. And then the smile turned into a grim frown as he sat up, mind still fixated on the whereabouts of the assassin.
"What happened after I was knocked out? Do you remember?"
The girl nodded, although she was hesitant to reveal what had happened. Would he regard her as a murderer, a monster, a cold-hearted killer after the way she had killed without remorse? But then she remembered how he had cared for her, despite the fact that she had been a mere slave, Maybe, just maybe he would accept her still.
"He didn't see me because he was fighting you. I cut him with the knife you bought me."
Here she took the knife out of its sheath, and showed the Gunrunner the dried blood that encrusted the blade. She had completely forgotten to clean it after the kill, and it would be her fault if the blade became rusty and dull.
The Gunrunner was astonished by this. He had not expected the girl to defeat the assassin- certainly a child could not overpower him. However, he was thinking in terms of sheer strength, which was why it was so hard for him to accept the truth; even the mightiest warriors can be taken down with little effort, provided that they are unaware of the attack and there is an unprotected vital spot available. This was the case with the death of the Stalker- blinded by his rage and bloodlust, he had not noticed the girl creeping up behind him as she prepared to kill him.
"Are you sure he's dead?"
"Yes, yes I am."
A defiant glint had come into the girl's eyes, as though challenging the Gunrunner to berate her for killing the assassin. Of course, no matter how strange he found it, he would never be mad at her for saving his life. The Gunrunner stretched, yawning, and crawled over to his pack, rummaging through it until he found a pocketknife. He unfolded it, revealing many different attachments that were no doubt useful in some situation, then selected a small mirror. He used the mirror to look over his face, lingering on the bruises, cuts and the improvised splint. He nodded approvingly at the last one, acknowledging that it was a somewhat well-done job. The cuts and bruises could be an issue- such facial injuries could unnecessarily intimidate people. He would need to wear a mask until they healed.
"Well, what do you want to do today?"
The girl tilted her head, evidently confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want to go shopping, or eat something, or just go sightseeing? It's up to you."
The girl silently contemplated her options, and the flinched as the Gunrunner put his hand to his face and shook his head.
"Before any of that, I need to have a citizen card made for you. Or you could be arrested for not having one.
"But first we'll need to choose a name for you. Do you remember what your parents named you?"
The girl shook her head in denial, and the Gunrunner felt that pang in his heart again.
"I'm sorry. It must be a sensitive subject for you. Well, then, I wonder what we could use..."
The Gunrunner stroked his stubbly chin as he thought, and was reminded of the fact that he needed to shave. And take a bath.
"How about Halley? Does that sound alright to you?"
"Halley? What does it mean?"
"Well, do you know what a comet is? No? Well, a comet is this giant ball of ice in space, way above our head, even further from us than the moon! It flies around and around in an oval shape, and it melts while it flies, and it makes all sorts of pretty colors that you can see in the sky. This year is the year that Halley's Comet is supposed to come by again, so I thought it would fit."
The Gunrunner was a relic of a past where information was at one's fingertips all the time. A time when a few gestures could let you know about everything from global warming to things in space- and that was what the Gunrunner had wanted to know as a kid. His room had been decorated with posters of astronauts and stars, and it had gotten to the point where he had once proudly declared that he was going to be an astronaut when he grew up, much to the embarrassment of his parents, who were no-nonsense blue-collar workers who knew dreams were just that- dreams.
The girl stayed silent for so long that he was afraid she would reject the name, then her face broke into a wide grin.
"I like it!"
"Great! Now, your last name is Donovan. Got that? Halley Donovan."
This was the Gunrunner's actual last name, something he hadn't used in years. But now, he felt that if she didn't have his last name it simply wouldn't feel right. Besides, he could always have multiple IDs made for her, so her real name would stay hidden.
"By the way, do you know how old you are?"
"Umm, I think I'm 9 now. My birthday is August 14th."
"Okay. Wait, how can you remember that when you can't remember your name?"
"I-I remember a party. My mom and dad were singing a song to me in front of a plate with a piece of something sweet. It was called... Umm... Cake! That's what it was. There were two funny burning things sticking out of the top."
The Gunrunner, seeing how her eyes had suddenly started tearing up, quickly put his arm around her and patted her back. What kind of monsters would enslave a little girl like her so readily? He asked himself, already knowing the answer. The kind of fucked-up monsters that were so common in this fucked-up world.
"There, there. It's okay. You're safe now."
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The Gunrunner was standing in front of what looked to be an iron door, with a square slot near the top. He knocked on the door in a rhythmic way.
Tap, tap tap, tap tap tap, tap, tap
A metal plate covering the slot from the inside was pushed away, revealing a pair of shrewd-looking eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Gold of the finest caliber."
And so ended the password exchange. The knock indicated that the Gunrunner was a customer- the password indicated that he was affiliated with the higher circles of the information brokers. The password itself was a metaphor for how the right information used in the right way could be worth more than gold.
The Gunrunner had run multiple errands for the brokers, both before and after he became a customer. He had asked them to pay the debts they owed him by initiating him into their midst- and they had readily agreed. This was incredibly convenient, as there was a group of information brokers in almost every city.
The information brokers did many things, not just the gathering of information. Sure, they bought and resold information, but they also managed inquiries regarding forgeries and false identities. Bribes were terribly effective against underpaid government workers who had access to the database, and not long after the first bribe they would be forced to continue working with the brokers through blackmail. After all, aiding and abetting criminals by giving them false identities was a serious crime indeed.
The door opened, and the man at the slot ushered the Gunrunner inside. He made to stop Halley, but froze at the Gunrunner's glare. The inside was surprisingly cozy, and was about the size of the back room of a bar- which was precisely what it was. Either the bar owner was part of the brokers or was affiliated with them in some way and allowed them to use the space, probably in exchange for rent. The room was littered with tables, at which people held conversations in hushed voices.
The Gunrunner took a seat at a table, Halley next to him, and soon a man in the trademark outfit of a broker- horn-rimmed glasses, and a tuxedo with a white rose label on the left breast- came and sat in front of him.
"How may I serve you today?"
"ID. Three. Halley Donovan, Michel Jones, Casey Gomez. 2052/8/14 for all of them."
The Gunrunner wasn't particularly concerned about the birthdays of the fake citizen cards- after all, people with the same birthdays were nothing out of the ordinary.
As he detailed what he wanted, the broker jotted it all down on a notepad, then thought for a second.
"That amounts to 6, but since you're a frequent customer and part of the circle I can give you a discount. 4."
"3."
"No less than 3.5."
"Deal."
The two men were discussing the price of the fake identities, in thousands of dollars. After the negotiations were over, they shook hands.
"Will you be paying here, or later?"
"I'll be paying in Detroit."
"I suppose you've already heard the speech about overdue payments?"
"Yes."
The information brokers had a strict rule- the customer must pay within a week of the deal or the deal is considered void and hired killers are sent after them. The Gunrunner wasn't worried about this- after all, he had plenty of money at Detroit. The brokers were like a company- they were paid wages, instead of percentages of profit. The ones who managed the entire scheme were unknown to most brokers, and certainly not to the Gunrunner.
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The rest of the day passed without any incidents. Due to Halley's reluctance to choose what to do, the Gunrunner decided that she would be experiencing every option. First, they went shopping. Halley, surprisingly enough, had a penchant for flashy clothes, and she emerged from the session with two new pairs of pants and three new t-shirts. The Gunrunner himself only bought a pack of surgical masks- they weren't uncommon, and they managed to cover up most of the injured areas of the Gunrunner's face.
After that, they had shish kebabs covered in a sticky brown sauce for lunch. The Gunrunner had laughed at Halley's antics after she accidentally burned her mouth trying to eat the kebab before it cooled down.
The Gunrunner retrieved the motorcycle from where he had parked it- a secluded alley- and was relieved to see that it hadn't been vandalized while he was gone. Normally he would entrust it to the care of a mechanic, but he had completely forgotten to do so the day before.
And then they went sightseeing.
The motorcycle completed a lap around the entire city, weaving around slower vehicles and pedestrians. Halley laughed the whole time, the wind blowing her hair backwards as she clung to the Gunrunner to stay on the bike. This took a couple of hours, and as the afternoon sun shone bright the Gunrunner knew it was finally time to leave.
He bought ample supplies for the trip, saluted the guards on his way out, and revved up the engine, leaving behind a cloud of dust as he zoomed into the wasteland, heading for Detroit.