Chapter Eight

  As dawn broke, the camp was already in full motion. The sounds of dinos eating breakfast, riders packing up gear, and wagons being loaded echoed across the high desert.

  Marsh McClintock sat in front of a small display projector linked to the comm in his arm bracer, waiting for Calvin Robertson’s call. He was joined by Calli, Paul Tinhorn, John, and his two sons, Jase and Mateo. The incoming message beeped right on time, as was Calvin’s way. The ongoing joke in the Valley was that the sun and moon themselves used Calvin to know the time of day, given the man's near-supernatural ability to keep time, a great skill when your primary occupation is Postal Service and package delivery.

  The screen blinked once, and the friendly, intelligent face of Calvin was shown.

  “Good morning, Calvin, how’s things at the Roost this morning?” Marsh greeted him.

  “Flying high and living the dream, as always, my friend. How’s the trail treating y’all?” Calvin asked.

  “Windy, bumpy, and dusty. With snakes under every rock,” Marsh said, a friendly mirth in his voice.

  Calvin chuckled. “Well, Texas is always gonna be Texas.” Calvin said. “

  What’s the big todo today that warranted you taking time out of your busy schedule to make a call as opposed to the usual message?” Marsh asked, concern beginning to show.

  “Well, as usual, per your standing order, we keep a satellite and a squad of drones tasked with surveying your trail for any possible meteorological or geographical issues. And we found an anomaly approximately 9.6 kilometers off the set trail from your scheduled path today. It’s a series of smaller anomalies, actually, which caused the monitoring program to send an alert. Sending the pictures now.”

  A mix of satellite and drone shots streamed across the screen, immediately downloading to every arm bracer in the room. The images showed multiple groupings of mammoths, all dead, lying in the dirt where they fell. They had been cleanly skinned of their fur and tusks, and split along their bellies, likely to harvest organs that held value in Western or Southern markets. The rest of the massive carcasses had been left to rot.

  Calli was the first to break the silence. “How old are these images, Calvin?”

  “Judging by the time frame between the last time the area was surveyed and the amount of carrion activity, I believe the oldest grouping to be two weeks old, and the newest is as recent as yesterday,” Calvin reported. “That one is the closest to your current path. We saw a small herd of mammoth on your trek east, and as usual, they moved to avoid contact with you. They appear to be moving back through the area after you passed. There's no seismic activity or any other sign of stampeding, so I don’t know how they're being picked off from the herd.”

  Marsh studied the images intently jumping back and forth between topographical maps of the area. “All the locations are in large rocky outcroppings,” Marsh observed, his voice turning stern. “Likely hiding among the rocks until the bulk of the herd passes, and then they ambush the stragglers.”

  John looked over Marshes shoulder at the pictures and locations he was indicating, and then nodded in agreement. “Damned poachers,” John growled, his hand resting on the holster of his sidearm. “That herd is probably hanging around the area caving. As long as they don’t spook them, they could slowly whittle down the whole herd like that.”

  Jase asked, “We are still hundreds of miles from Numunuu territory, right?”

  “Yes,” Marsh answered. “If we were anywhere near there, this would have been dealt with already.”

  Calvin nodded in agreement. “I’ve tasked a pair of drones to circle the area at altitude to continue surveillance. If they pop up out of hiding, we’ll get an alert. I’m sending the coordinates now.”

  Calli shook her head,” What is going on? First those Cyber thugs running from the east coast and now poachers. We’ve gone years without trouble on the trail and now twice in one trip?”

  Mateo answered,” Quirtsquip said they’ve been seeing more and more people pouring out from the coast lately. I guess he was right.”

  “What do you wanna do, Pa? Should we alert the Marshalls or are we going to take care of this?” Jase asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

  “Marshall's office is always spread thin. They don’t send people to stop poaching in the field; they just arrest people selling the prohibited items after the fact. And we don’t abide such a needless waste of life,” Marsh said in a grim tone. “We’ll deal with this now.”

  “I’ll turn drone control over to Mateo,” Calvin said. “Let me know if you need anything else from us. Be safe. Let me know.”

  “Thank you, Calvin,” Marsh said bluntly.

  “Say hi to Tara for me,” Mateo added quickly.

  Calvin smiled and nodded, then the call ended.

  A few hours later, the main wagon train was moving down the trail as planned. Marsh left Calli in charge with orders to proceed as normal, the noise of the procession would serve as a crucial distraction, both masking their movements and giving the impression they were unconcerned in case the poachers also had surveillance.

  Marsh and his team of riders, informed by the drone feed, were going to ambush the ambushers.

  Using the poachers' own tactics and judging the terrain, and current location of the local herd. Marsh located a likely spot for their next attack: a rocky choke point of huge granite formations bordered by thick patches of thorny pyracantha bushes (firethorns).

  John, Kate, Chaz, Chad, and Paul Tinhorn quietly circled around the east side of the rock formation, crawling slowly under the scratchy brush to conceal their movements. Jase, Jerry, Lin, and two other riders approached from the south. Marsh, with Cookie, and Mateo with Mambo stood in reserve hidden to the northwest. Mateo monitored and directed the operation with his drone feed, and Marsh was positioned to act in seconds with Cookie if overwhelming dino-power was needed.

  As the end of the mammoth herd started to thunder through, both the drones and the riders began to see movement. At first, it looked like the rocks themselves were shifting, but it quickly became apparent the figures were using camouflage tarps. As long as they didn’t move, the poachers were indistinguishable from the scenery, but as soon as they began to climb to the top of the rocks, they were plain to see.

  Kate silently messaged Mateo and Jase that they counted four poachers on their side. Jase responded with three identified climbing the opposite side. Mateo gave confirmation on their count from his drone footage and added two more moving in from the rear on the ground, behind the passing herd.

  Marsh used the whisper feature on his comm, which activated an implant in the ear of all his riders. “Jase, when I give you the signal, I want you to spook the herd and get them running. When the confusion starts, everyone opens up with stun rounds. I want them alive if possible, but don’t take any undue risks, shut ’em down if necessary. Watch out for crossfire. Get them shoved down into the gully there between the rocks. Mateo and I will deal with these two in the rear and keep an eye out for surprises.”

  A series of clicks signaled affirmation from the two groups of riders. Marsh, watching the scene through Mateo's enhanced feed, waited for the poachers to raise their weapons, and then gave the signal: “Now, Jase!”

  Jase lobbed a Party Popper off to the side of the passing herd. The obnoxiously loud device, one of Mateo’s little inventions, made a horrendous noise and a quick flash of blinding light. The bang immediately shocked the huge animals into a frenzy. They jumped and began to run, creating a sudden, localized earthquake that actually knocked down several of the poachers, making them easy targets for the riders.

  Muffled shots rang out from every direction as the poachers fired wildly, trying to fight back against their unseen enemy. They used powerful kinetic pulse rifles with suppressors, meant to make short, quiet work of mastodons, which, if they hit a rider, would be deadly even through their light armor. But fortunately for the riders, the rifles were large and unwieldy in close quarters. By the time most of them thought to switch to a sidearm, it was already too late.

  As Marsh, Cookie, Mateo, and Mambo rode in to deal with the two men on the ground, a large hover transport roared to life in front of them, the camouflage sheet covering it wiped off as it barreled toward the fray. A pulse cannon extended from the top of the transport, and a man appeared from a port behind the gun and began firing wildly into the rocks and bushes.

  Marsh aimed his rifle at the man’s head and fired, silencing the weapon. Mateo immediately kicked Mambo, his powerful triceratops, into high speed. Mambo ran at full throttle and barreled her powerful, horned head into the truck, flipping it over. The truck slid and crunched into the rocks ahead, its hover pads sparking and sputtering. Marsh quickly turned his rifle back to deal with the two men on the ground, but they were already down, caught in the wild suppression fire from the mounted cannon.

  As Marsh approached the crushed transport, a shot rang out, and the side window of the truck exploded. Mambo danced backward as the low-powered rounds thudded ineffectively on her thick, bony skin. Cookie roared, bit down on the side of the transport, ripping a huge hole in the cab, and then stomped down with his foot on the bottom of the truck, slowly crushing it in.

  A man rushed from a gaping hole and tried to run, but was slammed violently by Cookie’s massive head. He rolled over just as Cookie placed a large foot on him, pinning him to the ground. Cookie held back his full weight as he was trained, then moved his head directly over the man and unleashed his ear-shattering roar, causing the man to freeze in terror.

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  A loud whistle from Marsh calmed the rex, who eased his head away while keeping the man pinned with a low growl. Marsh looked to Mateo, who gave him a thumbs up, signaling he was okay. The other riders had already started to gather in the gully where the mastodons had passed. Several poachers were on their knees, bound. John and Paul also signaled that everything was okay.

  Marsh took several long, deep breaths, trying to breathe the fire out of his chest, forcing his control to return before he dealt with these people.

  A cry broke the sudden silence. It was one of the men shot by the pulse cannon. He lay on the ground just outside the entrance to the rocks. Marsh walked over, sidearm ready. The man rolled over and looked at him, panic-stricken. Marsh inspected the man, he was young, probably younger than Mateo. He was clutching at his stomach, his guts were hanging out, and his right leg was mostly gone.

  “Lin!” Marsh yelled. “Bring your med kit!”

  Marsh knelt down next to the boy, locking eyes with him. “Alright, son, hang tight. We’re going to fix you up.” Marsh quickly evaluated the wreckage of the young man's body. He knew there wasn’t a chance, but he controlled his expression to appear encouraging.

  Lin was there in a flash. Marsh noticed a small cut on her head trailing a streak of blood. She waved her hand and smiled, implying she was fine, and knelt beside the boy. Lin worked feverishly, connecting a monitor disk to the man's neck and spraying a green foam on his leg that stopped the arterial bleeding. She gave him an injection of painkillers, and he eased somewhat, his cries turning to ragged breaths. Lin then turned to his shredded torso, gently placing the exposed tissue back into the abdomen, then sealing it with the foam.

  Marsh called to the captured men on their knees. “Are any of you his kin?” They looked at each other and shook their heads no.

  “What’s his name?” Marsh demanded. No one answered.

  Paul kicked one of the men in the ribs and raised his gun. “Name!” he barked.

  “William,” one of the prisoners said, her voice strained. “William O’Neil, but he goes by Billy.”

  Marsh registered that the prisoner was actually a woman before he turned back to the boy.

  Lin continued to work, but she gave her father a hopeless look. The boy, Billy, was getting quieter, his breaths coming slower. He reached to his neck and pulled a small silver cross from under his shirt, holding it against his chest. He looked Marsh in the eye and spoke in a choked voice. “My grandma gave this to me before she passed. Said it was to keep me safe.” His voice broke, and he began to sob. “She would be so disappointed in me.”

  Marsh gently put his hand over Billy’s hand on his chest, and his other hand on his shoulder. “Don’t talk like that, son. I’m sure she loves you even now. Grandmas are like that,” Marsh said with a kind smile. Marsh took a deep calming breath,“Billy,” The boy locked eyes with him again. “Would you like me to pray with you?”

  Billy sobbed. “I don’t remember the words.”

  “That’s alright, son,” Marsh said calmly. “Just repeat after me.” Billy nodded half heartedly.

  “Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name.” Billy repeated the words as Marsh spoke. “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” Billy coughed, but continued.

  Lin stopped working and sat quietly.

  “Give us this day our daily bread,” Billy sputtered out, ahead of Marsh.

  Marsh nodded and smiled in approval at Billy’s sudden remembrance of the prayer. “And forgive us our trespasses,” Billy struggled for breath. “As we forgive those who trespass against us.” His words got quieter as his breath became more ragged. “Lead us not, into, temptation but, but deliver us, deliver us…” Billy finally stopped breathing, his eyes still locked with Marsh.

  Marsh finished the prayer, “Deliver us from evil. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Everyone sat in silence for a long moment. Marsh put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and gave her a comforting smile. Lin pulled a thin sheet from her pack and covered Billy, who still stared out toward Marsh.

  Marsh rose and walked back to Cookie. He patted the rex on his leg, and Cookie moved his foot, releasing the injured man who quickly scrambled back on his belly. Marsh approached the man, leaning down to grab him when the poacher suddenly flipped around with a hidden knife and stabbed at Marsh. Marsh dodged to the side but still got caught on the arm by the blade.

  The pain was immediate, but what was faster was the T-Rex. Cookie struck quick as a viper, biting down on the man's hand. In an instant, the knife and the man's hand were just gone.

  Fire bloomed again in Marsh’s chest. The practiced control evaporated, replaced by the deep, instinctual rage. He could feel it spread through his muscles, urging him to violence.

  The man stared at the stump in shock as Marsh lifted him from the ground and punched him in the face. The man flew back as teeth and blood flew from his mouth. Marsh grabbed the man again, his hand shaking with the effort to control the impulse to beat the man into the rocks.

  “Pa!” Lin called out, running to his side.

  Marsh paused as his daughter immediately focused on the knife wound, tearing his sleeve to visualize the wound. Marsh dropped the man roughly. Chaz and Jerry immediately bound him and dragged him back to the other prisoners. Marsh forced himself to breathe again, forcing the fire back down. Lin injected a pink foam into the arm wound, and it began to seal, his nanites pulling the tissues back together.

  Marsh thanked Lin in appreciation and moved to join the others.

  Five of the poachers, including the now toothless and one-handed truck driver, were still alive and bound on the ground. The truck driver's stump had already stopped bleeding, indicating he also had nanites.

  Marsh focused on the woman who had identified Billy. She was maybe in her thirties, maybe younger, with short-cropped hair. All of them were so beleaguered looking it was hard to tell exactly how old they all were. He noticed her eyes were different: more cat-like, with slit pupils, and pointed ears to match. Even her nose was slightly feline. Gene Splicing, he thought to himself.

  Marsh took a deep breath and let out a long sigh as he looked at the woman. She finally met his eyes.

  “How long have you been out here poaching mammoths?” Marsh asked in an exasperated tone.

  No one answered, and the woman just stared back at him. “Listen to me, ma’am, I’ve exhausted my last bit of patience for the day, and I just watched that boy die for no good reason. Somebody better start talking, or I’m going to feed you all to Cookie and be done with it.”

  As he gestured over his shoulder back at the dinosaur, Cookie roared and hacked up the severed hand onto the ground, still holding the knife, to accentuate the point.

  “That’s not your style. You don’t kill and torture prisoners. Not without trial,” the woman finally said, with an exhausted look on her face.

  Marsh stepped closer and squinted at the woman. “Have we met before? I’m usually pretty good at remembering faces.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve seen your face on the news. You were younger, but it’s you. And your famous Bull Rex. ‘Legends of the Wild Dino Plains.’”

  “I remember that series,” another man said, a large stout fellow with odd, lumpy skin. “We had to watch it in school.” She nodded in agreement.

  “I see,” Marsh said, crossing his arms, closely examining the group. “And where might you be from?”

  She looked up at Marsh and rolled her eyes. “I’m from New Tokyo.”

  “The Bay Area? Are you all from the West Coast?” Marsh questioned.

  John kneed the big one in the back. “Answer the man.”

  They all nodded their heads.

  “Okay, good,” Marsh said, approvingly. “Now, back to my original question: How long have you been out here poaching?”

  “He dragged us out here about a month ago, after he bought our contracts.” She used her head to gesture to the truck driver, who was still doubled over in pain on the ground.

  Marsh’s eyebrows lifted. “Contracts? You all are indentured?” That got a look of disdain and weary resignation from all of them. “What is your name, lady?”

  “Laura. The tall one is Ed. The one with the rebreather is Tommy, and the short, stumpy one there has only ever called himself Piggy, according to Ed anyway. The asshole there on the ground insists his name is Mr. Boss.”

  Marsh stepped over the man called ‘Mr. Boss’ and grabbed the man’s good arm, which held his arm bracer. “Mateo,” Marsh called, and the young man ran over. “Can you unlock this and download it, please?”

  “No problem, uno momento por favor,” Mateo said happily as Marsh kept his knee on the man's chest. Mateo quickly had the device unlocked and started the data transfer. The young man found what looked like personnel files with all the poachers' names and personal info.

  They were all indeed indentured, meaning they had been convicted of one or more crimes and essentially sold into slavery for a set period of time, depending on the sentence. This was common practice on the Coasts, though not as extensively used in the Free Zones.

  What also separated the West Coast justice system from the rest was the widespread use of obedience collars: small devices implanted at the top of the spine that could remotely trigger pain to punish prisoners. The remote code was always held by the contract owner. Marsh took the bracer from his son and removed the data disk that held the codes for the collars. The man, Mr. Boss, grumbled something and tried to speak. Marsh promptly knocked him back to the ground.

  Marsh briefly reviewed the newly downloaded files, pacing in front of the prisoners. He then waved John over and showed him the information. John nodded in silent confirmation and inserted the data disk into his own bracer. While he worked, Marsh checked on his people, inquiring after injuries and instructing them to see Lin or Calli later. After a moment, John gave Marsh a simple nod and said, “It’s done.”

  “Good. Cut ’em loose.”

  The four people stood slowly, eyes darting around in surprise, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Laura rubbed her wrist and stared at Marsh with a harsh expression, the three other men lining up next to her.

  “What is this? What’s done? Are you going to kill us or not?” Laura asked, tired and resigned. “If you're just going to kill us, get it over with, I’m tired of being used for someone else's jollies.”

  “Well, that would be a colossal waste of money, my dear. I just paid a lot of money for you four,” Marsh said calmly.

  Laura looked puzzled.

  “Mr. Boss here, or Eugene Burowitz as his I.D. says, just sold your contracts to the Thundersaur Ranch. The purchase is registered with the Western Corprate Authority office and everything. I even got the receipts.” He activated a holographic display and showed it to the four cons.

  The group of beaten and beleaguered people stood in shock. The small, clammy-looking man Laura identified as Tommy finally spoke up, his voice a mix of robotic feedback and drowning fishman thanks to the rebreather device on his throat. “Are we to be your slaves now, dino rancher?”

  Marsh stepped closer to the group, his voice taking a sincere, firm tone that carried the weight of his reputation. “I now own your contracts, yes. But I don’t abide one man owning another. You can choose. I don’t run a charity. If you work for me in the Valley, you’ll be expected to put in a fair day’s work alongside everyone else, no more, no less. If you do that, you’ll earn a fair day’s wage. You’ll be expected to follow the same laws and rules as everyone else. Any harm you do will be brought back to you in kind. You can finish out your contract and then decide if you want to move on or not.”

  He pointed west. “Your other choice is to run. No one here will stop you or hunt you down. You can test your luck in whatever direction you choose to go. But I’m sure you know the penalty if you're caught by authorities again. I guess in that scenario, at least your troubles would be over.”

  John removed the data disk that held the remote codes for the compliance collars and handed it to Marsh. Marsh promptly snapped it in half and threw the pieces at their feet.

  Marsh turned very serious. “We will not be doing any of that compliance barbarity, either. As I said, any harm you bring to others will be brought back to you. That’s a promise. Remember that.”

  The three men appeared to consider, looking to Laura for her decision. She stared in disbelief at Marsh, her face unreadable.

  “I’ll do it,” she choked out. “I’ll do it.” She nodded to the others. They all agreed, the little round man, Piggy, only grunting, but it seemed to be in the affirmative.

  “Good, I want—” Marsh cut off as Laura shot across the ground, quick as a whip, toward Eugene, who was still bound and agonizing. She produced a concealed knife and rammed it into the man's groin and twisted, screaming.

  Eugene screamed in agony and kicked ineffectively as the riders all drew their weapons and took aim at Laura. The three other men immediately raised their hands. Laura froze, watching, waiting for Eugene to bleed out, before slowly raising her hands and dropping the knife.

  She stared at Marsh with a hard expression, tears pouring from her eyes. “You can do what you think is fit. You hold my contract, but that was justice. I’ll finally sleep in peace, whatever you choose to do with me. I don’t care.”

  Marsh raised his hands and ordered everyone to lower their weapons. He took another deep breath, watching the bound man bleed out on the ground, before looking back to the new hires.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, his voice calm despite the violent scene. “I want to know where all the goods you poached are stashed out here.”

  “Yes, sir. We can lead you right to them. It’s not far,” Laura said in a calm voice that didn’t match her expression.

  Marsh nodded. “Good, we’ll head that way next. But your first job is to give Billy over there a proper burial.”