Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

They faced off, the foursome. Shaw could see they were inclined to run but were probably terrified of what Hugh would do to them if they let these two insurgents get away.

Victoria said, “Let’s swap.”

They exchanged club for knife. She held the blade expertly, as he knew she would, and her face seemed to glow with anticipation of a good fight.

Shaw was filled with an exhilaration too. In these dense woods on a cool clear day. A primitive setting, a primitive fight, even odds...

The men moved forward. The AUs backed away and went through theatrical but absurd gestures with their blades, like little kids mimicking martial arts moves.

“Got to the highway okay?” Shaw asked.

“Flagged down a truck, then I headed back. Frederick was on the phone when I left.”

So the feds or state would be on the way.

Blond stepped in. Shaw sent him retreating quickly with some swings of the club. He thought about Hugh and Eli destroying or packing up evidence. “Better speed things up.”

While Victoria proceeded against an increasingly uncertain Scar, Shaw feinted forward then retreated fast from Blond, who snickered, “Go on, run, asshole.”

Shaw had gotten the distance he needed and launched the club underhanded — less lethal power that way. Its head clocked the AU in the center of the face, and he went down, groaning, blood pouring from his nose, hands covering the agonizing injury.

This left Scar advancing on Victoria. His confidence had returned, now that Shaw was unarmed. He eased closer yet to Victoria.

She too seemed to be impatient. “Okay.” Spoken as casually as a waitress might address a customer. Taking the knife by the blade, she threw it into the ground about six feet from Scar. It landed handle up in the soft earth.

Scar eyed it cautiously, maybe wondering why, with such apparent control over the weapon, she’d missed him by a wide margin.

Victoria explained to Shaw, “Just in case I need it.”

She wasn’t in a defensive position as she walked toward Scar. Posture upright, hands at her sides. Strolling, actually. When she was about seven or so feet away, he lunged. She slid to the left and gripped his knife hand in both of hers, stepped forward to make sure he couldn’t pull away, then twisted leisurely. With this maneuver, Shaw knew, you can control someone’s entire body with minimal effort, and drive them to their knees or belly.

Or you can shatter the wrist.

Victoria went for the second option.

Shaw could hear the pop from twenty feet away.

“Ah...” Scar went white and passed out.

Victoria plucked her knife from the ground and said, “Sometimes you just don’t feel like stabbing people. You have those days too, Colter?”

Resourceful, pretty and a sense of humor.

He said, “We have to go. Now. Eli and Hugh’re in Administration. Evidence is going to disappear.”

Quickly they zip-tied the men’s arms behind their backs and pulled Red’s knife from his pants pocket. Shaw slipped it into his sock. They flung the other blades deep into the forest. Shaw collected his bloody war club. Victoria pulled the walkie-talkie off Blond’s belt.

As they started north along a narrow path, toward the front gate, Shaw nodded his thanks.

“You weren’t in much danger,” she said.

He glanced toward the four thugs and beyond them, Bear Notch.

Break both his legs...

“I’d decided to come back as soon as we found a car or truck. You weren’t ready to advance.” Victoria was smiling.

The walkie-talkie kept clattering, with demands for updates about the attack. It was Hugh’s voice, growing increasingly angry at receiving no response. The good news was that he and, presumably, Eli were still in the camp.

Shaw collected his war club and gestured north, where Hugh and Eli were. She then touched Shaw’s arm. “Hostiles coming.” They sank into a dense huckleberry stand. Ahead were a half dozen AUs, fanning out, moving in their direction. The reinforcements Blond had requested. “Weapons,” she whispered, nodding forward.

Two of them held pistols.

Shaw and Victoria hurried back to the four men they’d just fought. Shaw bent down and whispered to Red, “You don’t believe in the Process, right? You think this life is it.” Shaw glanced at Victoria, who knelt and put her knife against his throat.

Gasping, he said, “I’m a fucking bouncer is all.”

She said, “What’s your name, and if you give me a fake one, you’re dead.”

“Bullshit. That’s murder.”

“No, it’s retroactive self-defense.” The blade pressed harder. Victoria’s eyes were dark pits.

Red gasped, “All right, all right. Andy.”

“Do you go by ‘Journeyman’ or any title?”

“No, none of that crap. Just Andy.”

Shaw flicked TRANSMIT on the radio. “This is Andy. Carter got away. We followed him to the residence. He’s inside. We need more men!”

The response: “Fucking hell. There were four of you.”

A moment later was a transmission ordering everyone to the residence.

The group of AUs approaching them apparently heard the transmissions as well. They turned south and jogged down the path.

Victoria and Shaw turned in the opposite direction and hurried toward the front of the camp. In a few minutes they were crouching, in the tree line, behind Administration and the Assistance Unit building. Shaw pointed.

There’d be firearms inside.

She nodded.

They both surveyed the grounds, which were much as you’d expect after the chaotic events that had just occurred. Clusters of Companions were standing together. Some sat despondently by themselves in the Square or on benches. A woman wept openly. An argument was going on between two ICs.

An SUV sat beside Administration, packed with computers and files. Gray and Squat hurried up to it and shoved in boxes of documents. They then turned back toward the residence.

“You want a club?” he asked.

“Probably.”

Shaw walked to his dorm and collected the second club still sitting in the nest of leaves behind the building. He returned, handing it to her. She wrapped the knife in the napkin and slipped it away in her back waistband.

She said, “They’ll have a gun safe inside. Diversion in the front?”

He shook his head. “Too many AUs.”

“Okay, we’ll just move in fast — the back door.”

It was ajar. Shaw looked. The back room — filled with office supplies and unmarked cartons — was unoccupied. And, yes, against one wall was a gun safe.

They shared a nod and, gripping the clubs, stepped inside fast. She pointed to herself and the door that led to the front part of the Assistance Unit, meaning she’d guard that. He went to the safe.

Damn. Locked tight.

He gestured to it and shook his head. Victoria scowled. He joined her and they peered through the crack into the corridor that led to the front office. Four doors lined the corridor, two on each side — one was where he’d been interrogated the other night. They slipped into the hallway and moved forward, testing the knobs. All the doors were locked. When they got close, Victoria lifted a hand and they both stopped.

Through the partially open door to the front office, they could see movement.

Yes, Eli and Hugh were here. Troubling. This meant that it was likely they’d finished destroying and packing up files and wiping the computers.

The two men were facing away. The men were speaking to someone Shaw and Victoria could not see. The conversation was amiable. There was laughter.

They were completely unsuspecting.

Shaw pointed to Hugh and formed a gun with his finger and thumb, meaning it was most likely that he was the armed one.