Transmaniacon by John Shirley Read Free Book Online Page B

intense light. “Stand up, slow and smooth,” Ben said.
    They looked at the gun, then at each other. They stood, brushing sand off their knees.
    â€œFuller’s dead and I’ve got a piece of the steering mechanism,” Ben said. “That thing won’t move without it, and even if it would you don’t know how to fly it--the autopilot is gone. But I know how to fly it--manually.” He spoke rapidly. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. So before we go any place you’re going to have to come to an understanding with me. I’m not going back to the man who set us up.”
    â€œIf you don’t,” said the taller of the two men, “he’ll set the pigs on you. He’ll tell ’em you blew up the palace and he’ll show ’em those pictures he took of you at work.”
    â€œI don’t care. I’m not going to turn the exciter over to him. I don’t like kill people pointlessly. And I don’t trust him. Besides, I’ve got plans for it myself. If what I’ve got in mind pans out the opinions of the local police won’t count for bad credit.”
    â€œSo what do you want to do?” asked Gloria, tonelessly.
    Before Ben could answer, the shorter man blurted, “He killed ... Carl? ... Carl?”
    â€œI killed Fuller the Slayer.” Ben said. “It’s about time someone did.”
    â€œYou wasted Carl!” the stumpy thug screamed, his voice pitched high in disbelief, his face grotesquely contorted. Then the face was lost in the darkness as he charged forward, fumbling in his coat for his pistol.
    â€œLoyalty is an odd thing,” Ben remarked and, without thinking, he raised the needler and fired; while out of the corner of his eye he saw the other man pulling his gun, and the woman, a shadow, struggling with him.
    The charging biker slowed, clutched where the needler had bit into his skull, whimpered, slid to his knees. Ben raised the gun to finish him, then saw the charge indicator was in the red. Empty. But the biker fell forward, shuddered, then stilled. Ben looked up. Ranger stood two feet away, pointing a .45 automatic at Ben’s eyes. The woman was just getting up, one knee on the ground.
    â€œWhy doesn’t she carry a gun?” Ben asked haphazardly.
    â€œShe can’t be trusted with ’em,” the biker replied, grinning. “She likes ’em too well. Trigger happy, fires at anything that moves.” He licked his lips. His mirror sunglasses were askew, his hair mussed. He reached up, removed the shades, folded them with one hand and slid them into a pocket, all the while keeping the pistol pointed steadily. “She ain’t safe without a gun, neither. Tried to knock me flat. I think she likes you. Sometimes she gets stupid like that.” A pale glow came from the massive fly’s eyes, and the penlight wedged in the ground at their feet.
    â€œGo ahead, pick up the light,” the biker said.
    Ben complied, holding the light pointed respectfully down. His throat was dry, there was a pounding in his ears.
    The biker held the gun at arm’s length, both hands wrapped around it, tensed but steady. “What you want to say to me? Before we got all steamed up you had a deal...”
    â€œYou’re not feeling sentimental like your friend was?”
    â€œI could give a shit for Fuller. Better he’s dead. I worked for him because I was next in line to him. Now I replace him as the new Priest. As for that dumb shit on the ground, he was a pain in the ass any time. But don’t mess with Gloria, Rackey. She’s my sister. I take care of her.” He smiled, his gold tooth glittered.
    â€œDidn’t catch your name,” Ben inquired politely as he stared into the mouth of the gun.
    â€œName’s Ranger. Now…what was this about an…understanding?
    â€œYou love your boss, Ranger?” Ben asked with a measured mockery.
    â€œDon’t try