Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy by Steven Campbell Read Free Book Online

h-he’s going to be
dead if he doesn’t throw that token over here.” His voice was high-pitched and
stuttering. I saw there was no negotiating with him.
    “Is this guy a friend of yours?” I asked
Grever.
    “He was just smoking out in the back. Ain’t no
friend, man,” Grever answered nervously. He put his hands up as if to completely
disassociate himself.
    “I’m talking to you!” the junkie screamed.
    “You know him though, right?”
    “Do what you got to do, man,” Grever said.
    I apparently wasn’t getting anywhere with
either of them. I took out my four-barreled shotgun from under my coat.
    It was an intimidating weapon for sure. I had
the top two barrels loaded with very tiny steel pellets about the diameter of
sand. Since the barrels were cut so short, I was basically blasting…well,
anything unfortunate enough to be in the general direction I was aiming, within
thirty feet. Those shots weren’t lethal unless I fired point blank.
    The bottom two barrels I loaded with buckshot.
So the first two shots were to slow them down and convince them to reconsider
whatever actions made me fire. The next two shots were to cut them in half if
they didn’t listen. I only carried eight shots, including the four in the gun.
Most fights were usually over before then.
    Seeing four shotgun barrels pointed at him from
ten feet away convinced the junkie it was a judicious time to shoot me. Or
shoot at me anyway.
    I actually looked behind me to see where he
missed because I heard the pang against the metal wall. If I had stood
on a ladder and jumped to the side, that shot might have hit me.
    “Hey, you idiot,” Grever yelled at him as he
dove for cover.
    I walked forward and the junkie shot me in the
right shoulder. It hurt. A lot. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed him
by the wrist holding the pistol. I pulled his arm to the side. I then stepped
on his feet and that’s what really caused him pain—I was not a light guy.
    “So do you know him or not?” I asked Grever
again.
    “Hey, it’s your call. I’m not even here,” he
said hurriedly.
    I rolled my eyes. The junkie was struggling
with me but there was no way he was going to push me off his toes. I could
barely push myself.
    On one hand, this guy was obviously high. On
the other, I can’t have people shooting me without repercussions. Grever had
known me by reputation. When I leave here, he’s going to tell people what
happened and that’s going to affect me from then on.
    I lifted my shotgun high and brought it down on
the junkie’s head like a hammer.
    I wanted to make some bold pronouncement, some
tough speech, but I think I would be the only person who heard it. The junkie
was crying on the carpet, holding his bleeding scalp, and Grever was so checked
out of the situation he was practically at another space station.
    I picked up the junkie’s pistol and walked over
to Grever, who was in his kitchen eating—or pretending to be eating.
    “Grever. When can you have the stuff?”
    It took him a moment to come back to reality.
    “Hmm? Oh, um, how about a couple days?”
    “I can give you an extra thousand if you can
get it in ten hours,” I said.
    He thought about that hard.
    “I can try.”
    “Alright, I’ll be back then.” I realized I was
talking to him holding the shotgun and pistol while a man moaned in the other
room. I thought it was actually a good image to leave Grever with.
    I put the shotgun away and walked outside still
carrying the pistol. I don’t know why I took it, but at least it was some small
payback.
    I was thinking of where I had to be next when I
heard someone a block away yell to me in a friendly voice.
    “You starting trouble or finishing it, Hank?”
It was Ioshiyn, coming up the sidewalk. He was an enforcer, not sure which boss
he currently worked for. Nice guy.
    I looked down at the pistol still in my hand.
    “Hey Ioshiyn, you want to buy this?”
    “Does it work?”
    “Just shot me,” I said, showing my