Red Eden: Sons of Mars | Chapter 5: This Is My Boomstick
Jack ripped off his seat belt, bolted into the fuselage and grabbed the nearest parachute. He couldn't for the life of him remember how to put one on. Panic set in, and he wondered if it would be easier to just accept his fate and die. Then he saw that Erwin had already put his on. Jack studied the straps and realized that panic was making him stupid. Obviously, the smaller horizontal loops at the bottom were for the legs, and the bigger vertical loops were for the arms, and the dangling bits were for fastening the vertical loops across the chest. Duh.
Jack hastily put on his parachute and snapped all the pieces together. “Everyone good?”
Derek gave him the thumbs up.
“Outta the way!” Erwin slammed his fist over the big, red button next to the hole-riddled hatch. The hatch swivelled open, revealing nothing but open sky. The roar of the wind filled Jack's ears.
Erwin grabbed his red ATV and pushed it out the hatch. Derek pushed out his blue ATV. Jack detached the straps from his midnight black ATV and kicked it out the hatch. His ATV spun a couple of times before its parachute automatically deployed.
Erwin chucked out a metal crate and three bags with rifles strapped to them. “That's all our equipment. You gonna jump first, Jack?”
Jack looked down and saw green land beyond the wispy clouds. His stomach lurched, but his nerve held. He was no stranger to danger, as filming adrenaline-inducing adventure videos was how he made his living back on Mars. Out of habit, he turned on the camcorder on his helmet, gave his buddies the thumbs up and jumped backwards out of the screeching VTOL.
“Yeehaw!” He spun around to face the Earth and plummeted through the clouds. Droplets formed on his visor. The wind roared in his ears. He spread his arms and felt the rush of the air pushing against him. His heart raced. His skin tingled.
He heard a pop, followed by a hard yank. His parachute had deployed. All around him, the other parachutes popped open. The wind carried them across the land, spreading them over a wide area.
“We got chased off course,” Derek said over the radio. “We're headed for the wrong island.”
“Well where are we now?” Erwin asked.
“Ireland,” Derek answered. “We'll have to cross the sea to get to Britain.”
Jack heard the distant whir of an approaching aircraft. All he could do now was pray that he wouldn't be gunned down while airborne. Should worse come to worst, he still had his pistol. Years ago, he had read about a World War 2 pilot who bailed out of his plane and shot down an enemy aircraft with just his pistol while airborne. Boy, if Jack could replicate that feat, he'd become an instant superstar.
He checked the corner of his virtual interface, projected by his helmet visor, to make sure it was still recording. He scanned the horizon for the enemy VTOL and spotted a black dot on the horizon. The black dot grew bigger; the whine of its engines louder. Jack drew his pistol and aimed. With gritted teeth, he squeezed the trigger again and again. The VTOL opened fire. Bullets whizzed past Jack. One got so close that he felt felt its shock wave slam against his left ear. He screamed and emptied his magazine at the rapidly approaching aircraft.
Whoosh!
The pressure wave from the aircraft sucked Jack in, causing him to spin.
“Jack!” Derek yelled. “You alright?”
Jack holstered his pistol, grabbed the control lines dangling next to his head and stabilized his descent. “I'll make it to round two.”
Jack was now ten metres from the surface. He pulled up his legs and braced for landing. He counted three, two, one. He hit the ground and rolled. The shock of the landing took him by surprise as he wasn't used to parachuting on Earth gravity. After taking a few seconds to recover, he disentangled himself from the lines, tore off his straps and surveyed his surroundings.
He was in an open field surrounded by a forest. He could see smoke rising in the horizon. Several parachutes had already landed. One got caught in the treeline at the edge of the forest. A bag dangled on the lines, and a Solokov rifle dangled below the bag.
The whirr of an approaching aircraft grew louder and higher pitched. A black VTOL broke over the horizon. Jack ran for the parachute stuck in the trees. Ten metres from the treeline, the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun rang over the din of the VTOL engine. The ground around him erupted, throwing mud and bits of stone onto his visor. He dived between the trees and rolled to cover. Tree trunks exploded all around him. Bits of bark pelted him from all directions. He covered his head and waited until the whir of the VTOL became distant.
He looked up and saw his bag dangling from a tree a few metres away. He ran to the tree and put his right foot into a hollow within the trunk. He grabbed a low hanging branch and hoisted himself up. He slid his hands across rough bark and shuffled down the branch until he reached the parachute lines. While holding on with his left hand, he drew his knife from his belt using his free hand. He cut the lines, and the bag fell.
He sheathed his knife and dropped next to the bag. He freed his Solokov from the bag, slung the bag across his back and crept towards the treeline. By now, Erwin and Derek had landed. They too had fled towards the treeline, but on the opposite side of the field. Jack remained crouch and waited for the VTOL to make another pass. Seconds turned to minutes, and the roar of the VTOL could no longer be heard.
Jack left the cover of the woods. “Let's grab our stuff before they decide to come back.” He scanned the field for his midnight black ATV and found it on the other side of the field. He jogged over and freed his ATV from its parachute. With his ATV, he drove to the next drop.
Over the next half hour, he and his companions retrieved their equipment, periodically checking the sky for approaching VTOLs. None came. Once finished, they met at the centre of the field on their ATVs to discuss their next move.
Each man carried a backpack containing their provisions. Erwin had his Dapao Shredder holstered on the left side of his ATV, and Big Bertha, his tank-buster, holstered on the right. Derek carried his Solokov by slinging the strap over his left shoulder, like Jack. The metal case containing their laser cutters was stowed in the trunk of Derek's ATV. Each man had a knife and a pistol holstered on their belts.
Derek pointed in the direction of the rising smoke. “If we go straight, we'll find a road that'll take us to a town by the coast. Might be boats there.”
“Someone's watching us.” Erwin tilted his chin where Derek was pointing.
Jack saw a shadowy figure dart back into the forest. “I'll lead the way. You guys keep your eyes peeled.”
They drove into the woods. Their ATVs bounced over ancient roots and moss-covered stone. The only sound was of their wheels crunching over twigs and leaves. Whoever the spy was, he was nowhere to be seen. Jack figured it must be one of the locals. Their descent through the atmosphere would have no doubt attracted a lot of attention.
They broke out of the forest and drove onto an asphalt road that had clovers growing in its web-like cracks. By now, the sky had turned grey and a heavy fog fell over the land.
After driving for a bit, a pair of riders appeared out of the fog a little ways ahead. Jack slowed down and motioned for his companions to do the same. The horsemen appeared to be waiting for the trio. Jack parked his ATV ten metres from the men and leaned forward to get a better look. The men wore mail shirts and metal helmets. They each carried an axe on their belts and a shield on their left arm. Jack wondered if these men belonged to the same tribe as those who worshipped Gabriella.
He honked his horn. “Get off the road.”
One of the riders steadied his horse. “We saw ya falling out of the sky.” The man spoke in a funny accent that sounded familiar to Jack's ears, but Jack couldn't quite recall where he had heard it before. The man had a freckled, clean-shaven face. A tuft of red hair stuck out from underneath his padded hood, and he wore a padded white vest over a green long-sleeved shirt.
“You're about to witness another miracle if you don't git,” Erwin said.
The freckled man merely tilted his head. “Ya dress funny, ride funny horses, and ya talk funny too.”
“I'm not the one who sounds like a leprechaun,” Erwin said.
Leprechauns! That was what Jack was thinking of.
“Meant no offence. My name's Davey of Clan Murphy.”
“You mind getting out of our way, Dave?” Jack kindly asked.
“Oh I can, but you'll run into more of us through that fog.”
Erwin stood up on his ATV. “Then tell your buddies to clear off the left lane, ya Amish pricks.”
“Bit testy, are ya?” Dave said. “Oh alright, as long as ya don't mean us no harm.” Dave and his buddy moved off to the side.
Jack drove past them, then he heard the clattering of hooves following behind him.
“Mind if I ask where ya came from?” Dave asked.
“Far away,” Jack airily replied, not wanting to get into a conversation.
“I could've guessed that. How far?”
“Two hundred fifty million miles?” The distance between Earth and Mars varied a lot, depending on the calendar, and Jack wasn't one for numbers.
“That must be on the other side of the world. Ya from China?”
Jack didn't have time to explain. “Uh, sure.”
“Me Nan used to tell us stories about China. She said it were the only country the gods haven't abandoned. Who coulda guessed it weren't just a bunch of fairy tales.” After a momentary pause, Dave asked, “So what's ya business here?”
Jack had a feeling this guy was going to ask them a million questions. “Sightseeing,” he tersely replied, not wanting to reveal too much about their plans.
“Ireland's a pretty island. I can show ya around, if ya like. Where ya headed?”
Jack pointed straight ahead. “Whatever's down that way.”
“That way leads to Larne, and if it's Larne where ya goin', it's no place ya'd want to be.”
“Why's that?”
“Oh because... we're going to burn it down.”
Well, that escalated quickly. “What's your beef with the folk of Larne?”
“Beef? No. It's pigs. And women, too. We're going to take back what they took and help ourselves to extra for the trouble.”
Jack didn't want to get involved in the petty conflict between primitive tribes, but he had a feeling he might not have a choice.
“Are there boats in Larne?” Erwin asked.
“'Tis a trading town, so I'd imagine so,” Dave answered. “They'll have the only boats in a hundred miles.”
“Then you're not going to burn it down,” Erwin said.
“So it's boats ya need? Going across the sea, are ya?”
“Where we go is our business,” Jack said.
“Just curious is all. Funny people falling out of the sky who need a boat to cross the sea. Makes me wonder if I'm still drunk.”
“I don't mean to be rude,” Jack said, “but we're just gonna speed up and get the boats before you burn it down.”
“Oh, don't let me keep ya. But the folk at Larne won't lend ya any boats. They're a stingy people. No manners. Very unfriendly. They'll probably rob ya when ya're not looking.”
“We can handle ourselves,” Jack said.
“I don't doubt ya can,” Dave said. “But they're expecting us, so ya're not getting in town until we tear down their walls. Maybe we can help each other?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I was afraid you might say that. We'll just head down to the next town and find our boats there.”
“Like I said, ya won't find boats anywhere else, at least not ones bigger than a canoe. The Larnians keep all the boats to themselves. Won't let anyone else have 'em. They think they own the entire sea.”
“How about we just ride on ahead and have a chat with them ourselves?” Jack said.
“Oh no, ya wouldn't want that,” Dave said. “Me Da told me once there were these funny folk from the mainland. They spoke a funny tongue, even funnier than yars. They thought they could do business in Larne, and the Larnians killed them all and took their boats.”
“You just don't want us to talk to them, do you?” Derek asked.
“Just warning ya they're not as friendly as we are. Stick with us. We'll get ya the boats.”
“And in return, you want us to help you fight?” Jack asked.
“If you can fight, then fight. If not, then don't.”
“What makes you think we're fighters?” Derek asked. “Maybe we're just peaceful tourists.”
“Those weapons ya carry,” Dave said, “I recognize them. They're relics from the Age of Eden when gods still walked the world. Do they still work?”
Jack snorted. “Nice talkin' with ya, Dave.” He sped ahead but didn't get far before running into a wall of wooden waggons parked across the road. Beyond the waggons, he saw tents through the fog. He could hear the voices of hundreds – maybe thousands – of men, horses, and the clanking of steel on steel. Here and there, he saw the orange glow of campfires.
Jack slowed to a stop and turned to face Dave. “Just how big is this camp? You've blocked the whole clearing!”
Dave caught up to him. “I told ya you'd run into the rest of us. We're not far from Larne. We're about to march, if ya want to join us.”
“You keep trying to recruit us,” Jack said. “No. We're not going to help you fight. Now tell your people to move their waggons out of the way.”
Dave held up his hands. “I was just trying to be a good host. Ya're visitors to our land, after all. But I can see I'm making yar kettle boil, so have it yar way, then.” He whistled. “Aric, it's Dave. Have the men make way, will ya? And tell my father we've travellers from China.”
“China?” A man, presumably Aric, called back from the camp. “What have ya been drinking, Dave?”
“Yar mother's milk. Now hurry up. Our guests from China are getting impatient.”
By now, scores of men had climbed onto the waggons to gawk at Jack and his crew. “Is that what the Chinese look like?” Aric asked, his neck stretched forth like a giraffe. “Where'd ya find them, Dave?”
Jack rolled his eyes. Primitives.
“At the end of a rainbow with a pot of gold,” Dave impatiently answered. “Don't keep them waiting. They have urgent business in Larne.”
“Larne?” Aric said. “But we're gonna burn it down.”
“That's what I told them,” Dave said. “Still, they want to go, so who am I to say no?” The soldiers got off their waggons and moved them off the road. Dave waved Jack goodbye. “Off ya go to Larne. If they tell ya anything funny about us, don't believe a word of it. They're a pack of filthy liars. Here. Take this.” Dave took a block out of a pouch that he wore on his belt and chucked it towards Jack.
Jack caught the palm-sized block and opened it. Inside was a key chain containing a four leaf clover pressed into a glass film. He looked to Dave for an explanation.
“A relic from the Age of Eden. Keep it for good luck. And if ya run into a merry band of men wearing the clover,” Dave tapped the green emblem he wore on his collar, “show it to them and they'll know ya're a friend of Clan Murphy.”
Jack slid the gift into his bag. “So we're friends now, huh?”
Dave grinned cheekily. “We got along so well. Of course we're friends! Say, what's yar name again?”
“Jack.”
“Safe travels, Jack.”
The warriors parted to form a loose line on both sides of the road. Jack and his companions drove through their camp. It felt a little like a parade, the way the primitives gawked at them. It took several minutes to clear the camp, and Jack was impressed by the size of the force these primitives were able to muster. The trio sped up once the camp was behind them.
“So what do we tell the folks of Larne to get them to open their gates?” Derek asked.
“Just leave the talking to me,” Jack said.
Ten minutes later, they were driving through open country. On both sides of the road, moss had overtaken the concrete foundations where houses once stood.
The town of Larne rolled into view. A ten foot high wall that looked like it had been cobbled together with an eclectic mix of stone, brick and even scraps of metal formed a defensive barrier around the town. Jack and his crew slowed to a stop before a twelve foot tall wooden gate that had a gatehouse built on top of it.
The guards in the gatehouse hollered at each other and a bunch more came to fill the gaps in their line. They wore armour made of overlapping bits of metal, and they wielded spears, bows and crossbows. The guards stared at Jack and his crew in silence, apparently awestruck by their appearance.
Jack broke the ice. “Greetings. We're travellers from far away. We come in peace.”
A guard wearing what looked like an old, scratched up motorcycle helmet stuck his head out. “Who are ya? What do ya want?”
“We're looking for a boat to cross the sea,” Jack answered.
“We never seen folk like ya before. Where'd ya say yar from?”
“A realm,” Jack said, looking for a way to avoid explaining the concept of space travel, “far-far away.”
“China?”
“Yes,” Jack lied. “We're tourists from China looking to tour the Irish coast on a boat.”
“Ya picked a bad time to visit, friend.”
“Yes, we know there's a war going on, and that could be why the airline tickets were cheap. Anyway, we had a run-in with a mean-looking army back that way. We don't want to be caught out here when they arrive.”
“We've taken in all the refugees we can,” the guard said, “but seeing as how ya've come all this way, we might be able to make an exception for ya. Those vehicles ya're riding – are they common where ya're from?”
“We'll tell you all about the wonders of China over a cup of coffee. Just open the gate.”
The guard narrowed his eyes. “Are those weapons ya're carrying?”
Jack pointed his thumb at his Solokov. “This thing? Yeah. It's not a problem, is it?”
“No, none at all, as long as ya're not friends of the pig-fucking Murphy Clan.”
“We just got here. We don't want to get involved in your feud.”
“Alright, then. The Mayor will want to speak with ya. If ya surrender yar weapons at the gate, we can let ya in. We'll return them to ya once ya leave.”
“No deal,” Erwin said.
“You don't trust us?” Jack asked.
The guard shook his head. “The Murphy's are comin' to knock our walls, and ya turn up at our gate all of a sudden? And from China, of all places?”
“Alright, have it your way. We'll surrender our arms,” Jack lied.
“Ja-”
Jack shushed Erwin. “They're opening their gate.”
The wooden gate creaked and groaned as it swivelled open. Jack led his crew inside, but a line of spearmen blocked further passage into the town. The guard who had spoken to Jack descended a wooden staircase. “Now if ya would please hand yar weapons ov-”
“That's not going happen,” Jack said. “I lied to get you to open the door.”
The guard glowered, his pockmarked face turning red. “Ya gave yar word.”
Jack shrugged. “Sue me.”
“I'll have ya speared!”
“I'm not worried about that. We want a boat. We were told you have boats.”
“Boats we have, but ya'll have to discuss that with the Mayor, and I cannot let ya meet him armed as ya're.”
Jack was on a time-sensitive mission, and failure would spell doom for his people's future on Earth. He didn't have time to negotiate with these primitive half-wits. It was time to bust out his most devastating weapon: his big mouth.
He stood up and held out his Solokov for all to see. “Listen up, you primitive screw-heads. You see this? This is my boomstick!”
The spearmen took an involuntary step back.
“This is what you want, isn't it? This here is a Solokov Mark V electromagnetic Gauss rifle. It comes equipped with a fifteen kilowatt-hour solid state battery pack, which can be upgraded to twenty kilowatt-hours if you need the extra juice. It can fire projectiles at speeds in excess of Mach V on both semi-automatic and fully automatic modes. It's the perfect weapon to unleash devastation upon your enemies. Available to order on e-Mall for the low price of 9-99. Shipping comes free.”
The Larnian soldiers exchanged glances with one another. Jack knew they had no idea what he was talking about, and that was intentional, for he was a master orator gifted in the art of bamboozling the uninformed and the naive.
“That's right,” Jack said. “Unbridled, unregulated, unapologetic free market capitalism is coming to a store near you for we, the Chinese, shall descend from the heavens bearing the torch of Lady Liberty. And if y'all want access to our markets, y'all need to be in our good graces.”
Jack slowly approached the guard. “And you insisting that we hand over our weapons goes against our principle of liberty and the right to bear arms. Do you want to get blacklisted? Because I'm keeping a list of all you primitives who get in my way, piss me off, or otherwise rub me the wrong way. Maybe we'll sell our weapons to the Murphy Clan instead. Is that what you want?”
“Well, no, but-”
“B-b-b-but nothing.” Jack pulled out the token that Dave had given him and showed it to all the Larnian soldiers. “This is a token of friendship given to us by the Murphy Clan. They know how to stay in our good graces. You people are failing. Hard. You want to end up blacklisted? Do you?”
“Ya can keep yar weapons,” the guard said. “Let me escort ya to Drumalis Castle. The Mayor will meet ya there.”
“Escort us directly to your boats, but do send the Mayor our most sincere apology for we are short on time. Lead the way.”
The guard grumbled. “As ya wish, m'lord.” To the spearmen, he barked, “Roll out the red carpet. The Chinese are coming through.”
The spearmen glanced at each other.
“I said move it!”
The spearmen split their line and moved to the side.
The guard mounted a black horse. He leaned over and whispered something into the ear of one of his comrades. The other soldier nodded, mounted a chestnut horse and rode away. The guard motioned for Jack and his companions. “I'll take ya to yar bloody boat.” He clicked his tongue and rode away at a trot.
Jack allowed himself a self-satisfied grin as he returned to his ATV. Erwin and Derek burst their stitches laughing. They rode their ATVs down the street, keeping pace with their guide.
“So ya say more of yar people are coming?” The guide asked Jack.
“Millions,” Jack confidently answered. “We're just the forward scouts.”
“I thought ya said ya were tourists.”
“Sightseeing is part of the job.”
“So ya're not really tourists. Ya told me ya would disarm, and ya led me to believe ya weren't no friend of the Murphy's. It makes me wonder what else ya have lied about.”
“Sir, I do not like what you are trying to imply. I demand an apology.”
“Apologize for being lied to? Oh okay. I am sorry, m'lord. Sorry ya have a big lying mouth.”
“Sir, if you don't shut your mouth this instant, I will have this entire town blacklisted, and everyone but you will be able to purchase our weapons. If you think the Murphy's are bad, imagine them armed with Solokovs.”
“I know in me gut ya're full of shite, but I'm weary o' hearing ya yack on like a pompous prick, so I'd be glad to see ya gone.”
“We can't wait to get outta this dump.” Jack never claimed diplomatic tact was his strong suit, but he certainly excelled at talking people into submission.
As they drove through town, which clearly used to be a mid-sized suburban town, Jack noticed that the Eden-era houses looked remarkably well preserved, though the straw shingles on the rooftops definitely looked like recent additions. The denizens of Larne had erected several of their own buildings, most of these being crappy shacks with walls that looked like they might be made of shit. The better-looking shacks were made from shipping container parts and recycled bricks pulled from outside the city walls.
They passed by a sports field that still had its original stadium lights. Stacks of broken down cars lined the field, and there were also piles of junk sorted into categories: computer monitors, stoves, washing machines, refrigerators, TV's, bicycles etc. People were weighing out the junk on giant balance scales and loading the junk onto waggons.
One man drove his horse-drawn waggon out of the junkyard, partially blocking the road ahead. As Jack swerved by, he saw that the waggon was filled to the brim with rusted metal cabinets. The writing on the waggon read: O'Malley's Smithy, Swords and Shields. The driver of the waggon gawked at Jack and his crew as they passed by.
Their guide led them into the town's downtown core where the shops formed a continuous line down the block. The road here was crowded with men on horses, horse-drawn buggies, and even bicycles. Bustling crowds of people browsed from shop to shop. The men wore colourful clothing consisting of shirts, tunics, and capes while the women wore long gowns and sleeveless tunics.
Jack saw a man wearing a polyester track suit with a tri-leaf logo on the left breast. The outfit looked completely anachronistic to the setting, forcing Jack to look again more carefully. And nope, he wasn't hallucinating.
“Track suits from the Eden-era,” a shopkeeper cried while holding a polyester track suit, “imported from a far away land of ice and snow, once worn by the very ancients themselves. Feel the fabric. It is soft, smooth, silky, and sublime. The technique used in the manufacture of this cloth has been lost to time forever, but you can own one of these marvels of a lost age for the fair price of twenty gold clovars. Limited supply, so buy them quick!”
Jack was blown away by the glorious enterprising spirit of this town, and he wished they had more time to explore.
By now, their progress had slowed to a crawl, and the townsfolk were beginning to stare at Jack and his crew as much as the other way around. People even stuck their hands out to touch Jack's helmet, his armoured pressure suit and his ATV. The townspeople widened their eyes and spread their cheeks grinning. “It's a miracle!” They cried. “A working machine from the Age of Eden!”
The people crowded in. Jack and his crew could neither move forward nor go backwards. He looked around for their guide, but the shifty bastard was nowhere to be seen.
“That rat bastard led us straight into a dead end,” Jack shouted over the raucous din of the excited locals.
“Hey!” Erwin yelled. “That kid stole Big Bertha. Come back here, you little runt!”
“Jack,” Derek shouted, “somebody lifted my cargo. The laser cutters are missing.”
“We need those!” Jack stood on his ATV and searched the crowd for the thief. He spotted a pair of men hobbling away with a shiny metal case between them. He pointed at them, crying, “Thief! They stole our stuff!”
The crowd turned on the men, and to Jack's surprise, chased after them. However, some of the townspeople drew swords and formed a defensive line to protect the thieves. These bandits kept the crowd at bay while the thieves slipped away down an alley.
Before Jack could react, Erwin drew his Dapao Shredder and opened fire on the bandits, shredding them to a bloody pulp. The crowd screamed and scattered in all directions.
Jack leaped to Erwin and slapped down Erwin's gun. “Are you crazy? Don't shoot up the town!”
“They stole Big Bertha!” Erwin jumped off his ATV and ran after the thieves.
“Derek, stay here and look after our ATVs.” Jack drew his Solokov and followed Erwin down the narrow alley. It was barely wide enough for a man to run through.
Erwin had just reached the other end when somebody slammed a metal gate shut on him. Erwin shook the gate. “I'm gonna kill everyone in this fucking town if you don't give her back!”
Jack heard a playful whistle coming from up top. He looked up and saw a scrawny man wearing a green hat standing on the edge of the two-storey building. He wore a white shirt with suspenders and green pants, and he had a cheeky grin on his face.
Erwin growled. “Get down here, you goddamn leprechaun.”
The man whistled twice in quick succession. Jack heard two other men grunt, and then a black cauldron plummeted towards him. He dived out of the way, heard a loud crash behind him followed by the splashing of water, then something heavy struck him in the back. He fell flat on his belly, pinned down by a tremendous weight. Groaning, he turned his head and saw that a big man had jumped him. Jack reached for his Solokov, but another man leaped down from the rooftop and took the gun away.
Jack tried to twist around to fight off the bruiser pinning him down, but even more men piled on top of him. One of them grabbed Jack's arm but wasn't strong enough to hold it. Jack pulled the man down and choked him. The bruiser intervened, grabbing Jack by the wrist while pinning down Jack's elbow. Slowly but surely, Jack lost the battle of strength, and only because he was in an awkward position. The bruiser twisted Jack's arm around and kept twisting until Jack cried for him to stop.
“Ya ready to cooperate now?” The bruiser asked, panting with each breath.
Jack had nothing to say to the man. “Erwin. You still there?”
“You're all dead,” Erwin shouted. “You have no idea who you're messing with!”
“Not somebody smart, that's plain to see. Take them to Drumalis. Captain Tobias promised us a hefty bounty for these fools.”
Jack glowered. So it was that guard with the pockmarked face who organized this ambush. The rat bastard!
“Boss, what about Drew, Liam and Kyle? What'll we tell their wives?”
“Don't ya worry, Lem. I'll make sure Tobias compensates us well for our losses. Take these two away. The other one's still struggling, but not for long.”
Link to table of content:
https://www.minds.com/ME2007Vigil/blog/red-eden-sons-of-mars-table-of-content-967907646284259328
Red Eden: Sons of Mars is the sequel to my first book, Red Eden: Homeworld Bound. To catch up on this series, please click the following link, which will re-direct you to the table of content:
https://www.minds.com/ME2007Vigil/blog/red-eden-homeworld-bound-table-of-content-913570321625583616
You can purchase the full novel on Amazon at this link: