S Hunter - Longevity

The right window in the front of the cottage opened and a bullet ricocheted off the flagstone to her right. So he’d been lucky the first time.

Then it got very serious. An arm at the second window, the left one, swept forward and threw something that looked like a small, spiked ball at her. She didn’t get a good look, but she knew what it had to be: an armor-piercing grenade. Counting to three, she rolled desperately over and over towards the cottage across the soft grass and then, as she’d been trained years ago, flattened out, trying to meld with the ground beneath her. The explosion sent tiny fragments that shredded parts of her tunic and tore into her left leg and arm in several locations with excruciating effectiveness.

Livvy rolled the few meters more that she needed to reach the cover offered by the foundation of the cottage. They knew where she was, and they had armor-shredding grenades, so she was at more risk than she had been at any time since it all started.

No hesitation . Move fast, and move forward, into the cottage, where they wouldn’t be able to use another grenade. She scrambled clumsily to her feet, charged up the steps, and headed across the porch, toggling her faceplate open as she ran. Her charge was awkward, since she was favoring her left leg and carrying her left arm clutched to her side. The shooter on the right was firing at her but she was moving fast and only one of the bullets impacted, painfully, on her upper arm. Her armor held, but she couldn’t risk another grenade. When she reached the door, she slapped it, and the preset Attach’n’smash she’d been clutching ever since leaving the last cottage did it’s magic. The full force of its power blew the door inward. Following it in and going down on her right side, she managed to land on her shoulder squarely enough to keep her Stinger steady and fire twice at the man at the left window almost on impact. There was more gunfire from behind her in the small room, and ricocheted floor fragments hit her helmet twice harmlessly. She rolled over, and found the man at the other window. He was holding a gun but once she was facing him, he didn’t fire. He just sat there with his mouth open. Slow and not very bright , she thought, but there had to be somebody else in the room, because although she got off at least one shot simultaneously with the thought, she felt the dull prick of a dart coming through armor and then acute somnolence overcame her. Stinger. So close , she thought just before losing consciousness completely.

Chris started across the courtyard, throwing excess guns into shrubbery and doing his best to run while clutching his ribcage. He saw the last of Livvy’s assault: the grenade, her roll towards the cottage, and then her awkward intrepid dash. It took his breath away. He heard a few more shots from inside and saw Louie come full tilt around the corner of the cottage, take the steps up to the porch in one leap and follow Livvy inside. He’d had strict orders to stay in the car, but he must have seen Livvy and then found the pop and flare of the firebomb too much. Overcome with excitement, he’d gotten out through one of the open car windows and followed Livvy’s trail.

Chris didn’t call out to either of them; he didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t distract them and possibly prove fatal, and he frankly wasn’t sure he could take a deep enough breath to project his voice that far.

There was no more gunfire but when he got close enough he heard a man cursing and screaming. There was also a great deal of growling.

Braced with the Stinger he’d gotten from Williams, Chris went up the steps about ten seconds behind Louie. It was a small room, so as soon as he got in and did a sweep for anything still moving he saw Josephson with half of his right forearm obscured by Louie’s fully exposed teeth. There was a Stinger lying at his feet, along with an expanding pattern of blood from his arm. Louie was looking up at Josephson with a fixed expression, growling and tugging on the arm enough to keep him off balance.

Livvy was lying at Chris’ feet. He knelt stiffly to check on her. Although her left leg and arm were bloody, the bleeding appeared to gotten very sluggish now that she wasn’t in full-on attack mode, and she was breathing strongly. Williams should have already called for a medivan, which meant that they’d be there in just a few more minutes.

“Get this vicious animal off me,” Josephson said. He was surprisingly cool, given the fact that he had a 30 kilo dog attached to his arm and was surrounded by illegal armaments and a kidnapped boy.

“Good boy, Louie,” Chris said. He put another duoload in each guard, not caring if it was superfluous. These guards had to know about Jesse, and had perhaps helped kill Mickey and her bodyguard. One had used a grenade on Livvy.

“Where’s Jesse Bedford?” he asked.

“He’s in the back bedroom, under sedation,” Josephson said. “Now get this damned dog off me.”

Chris ignored him, other than to pause and make sure Louie’s hold was secure before going to the first guard to extract weapons. This was the one who’d tossed the grenade; Chris went to his knees to search him. He found two more.

“These are illegal,” Chris said, holding up the grenades before pocketing them. “You might have killed my partner. Mickey Bedford and her bodyguard are dead. You participated in Jesse’s kidnapping. For money, and for your nasty little hobby.”

Chris moved to the second guard and disarmed him. By now, Josephson had apparently realized that struggling caused Louie to grip more firmly. He was standing very still. Chris couldn’t help but be impressed. Louie was still attached to his arm and eyeing him steadily, but the cold-blooded bastard was recovering.

“You think so? My lawyer will keep this tied up in the courts for years. I know the law. You have no proof that you can use in court. As far as the world will know, Bedford himself recovered his injured grandson from the kidnappers. From a series of misunderstandings or worse, outright incompetence, surely in the area of respecting our rights after we rescued the boy, we suffered abuse at the hands of Longevity Law Enforcers. With Bedford’s resources, we won’t spend a day in jail.”

Chris studied him consideringly. “Louie, enough. Out,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the door. Louie let Josephson go with what appeared to be a great deal of reluctance and slowly padded out.

“What a misguided toad you are. Haven’t you heard? LLE no longer tolerates catch and release. My partner and I know too much, Josephson. You’re not going to get away with this like you did with Sara Ann Torkelson,” Chris said. “This time, Forensics will figure it out, and we’ll testify and destroy you in court, whatever the cost. At the very least we’ll deprive you of all your playthings.”

With this last provocative statement, Chris turned away ostensibly to observe Louie’s reluctant progress out the door. Josephson bent down to pick up the Stinger and was bringing it up to aim at Chris’ back when Chris dropped his Stinger and drew Bedford’s gun out of his belt, pivoting and lunging to one side in one smooth, costly move. Josephson was still aiming at the point where Chris’ back had been when Chris shot him three times in the chest with the gun.

It was getting harder and harder to stay erect, but by now just about any other posture was equally painful. Chris straightened up and walked slowly back to stand over the doctor. There was blood pumping profusely out of Josephson’s wounds, and he was coughing up even more.

“Or,” Chris said softly, distinctly. “I can just kill you.”

With impotent fear and rage, Josephson stared up at him, and Chris stared back until the doctor’s eyes unfocused and the bleeding turned to a sluggish seepage. Chris felt for a jugular pulse to confirm it. Josephson was dead.