Read Wasteland Angel (A World After Novella) Page 3

  Chapter 3

  July 9, 2034

  Ruins of Enterprise, Las Vegas

  It was around ten o’clock when the slavers began to move around and make ready to leave. They had built a small fire to keep warm as the sun had fallen and the temperatures had dropped considerably. No such consideration had been given to the slaves though. They shivered miserably in the cages. That was all part of the process though; the lack of food and water and exposure to the elements on the road broke most people. Some were even so grateful to get shelter and food that they felt indebted to their new owners.

  Minerva had moved to the opposite side of the convoy from her planned distraction and had watched with disgust as the slavers carried on while their cargo suffered. As time had passed they became more and more relaxed. Even the man on the top of the wagon had gotten comfortable and wasn’t scanning the area as often as he had in the beginning. He was still looking through the scope and she assumed it had night vision capability, but she had taken that into account.

  As she had been taught, Minerva quickly checked her weapons. Her combat knife was securely sheathed on her MOLLE vest and her stiletto was safe in her boot. The 9mm Beretta 92 she had taken off of a biker years ago was on her hip and her brass knuckles were secure in her pockets. Her pride and joy, a sound suppressed Heckler & Koch UMP 40 submachine gun, was in her hands with a round chambered and the safety off. It fired the hard to come by .40 caliber rounds, but they had more stopping power than the 9mm rounds. A reflex sight with a red dot rested on the rail on top. She aimed carefully through the sight at the sniper. She was ready.

  As the slavers started to get into their vehicles, she triggered the distraction she had set up. Two flares exploded up from the ruins of one of the houses with a burst of light and sound. They blasted into the sky and arced over the convoy. All of the slavers were startled and instinctively turned towards the arcing flares. Their night vision was ruined as they looked at the bright flares. The sniper flinched, and she smiled as she knew the flares had blinded him through the scope.

  He instinctively rose up slightly and tried to clear his vision. A quick two round burst sent him crashing back down onto the top of the wagon with his face blown off. Her submachine gun was suppressed, but that didn’t mean it was silent. The gun still made noise when it fired, clacks for the bolt pulling back for example. But the initial launch noise and the ensuing yelling by the slavers had covered the minimal noise.

  Minerva rose from cover and rushed towards the slavers. The leader had gathered his wits and was trying to rally the startled troops. They now all had their weapons in hand and were frantically looking around. Two quick bursts sent the leader collapsing to the ground and his collapse created more chaos and panic. He wasn’t dead since she had shot him in the legs; a head shot being too difficult while running, but he was down and bleeding.

  The second in command stayed calm and was scanning the area for the source of the attack. She knew the general direction the shots had come from and it wasn’t long before she spotted Minerva approaching through the dim red light of the fading flares. Two bursts to the chest knocked the woman down as her vest absorbed the impact of the rounds. She dropped her shotgun as she fell and any semblance of organization disappeared.

  The remaining grunts panicked and were waving their guns around wildly as they tried to find who was killing their leaders. Several fired randomly into the now dark surrounding them. Once that started, the rest followed suit. The cul de sac lit up with the muzzle flashes of the undisciplined gunfire. From the screams, Minerva could tell they either shot each other, the slaves, or both. She waited crouched alongside the SUV for her night vision to improve. She had kept her eyes closed during the initial flare launch, but the light present during her assault had faded and the only light was from the flickering fire.

  One of the slavers rounded the vehicle and was almost on top of her before he saw her. She coolly shot him in the face and he dropped to the ground with a thud. Her night vision regained she popped up and aimed across the hood of the technical. The other slavers were scattered around the other vehicles and back lit by the fire. Calmly and methodically she shot each remaining slaver in the head with a short burst. Within a minute all of them were dead and there was silence except for the groaning of the second in command.

  Minerva stalked slowly and carefully around the SUV, making sure that all of the slavers were dead. A quick check revealed the leader had either died or was dying from the blood loss. The others, except for his second, were all lying still in bloody heaps on the sandy pavement. She approached the groaning woman who was rolling around and clutching her ribs, keeping her gun trained on the despicable woman. The woman saw her coming and grabbed for her pistol but Minerva kicked it away and then kicked the woman square in the face.

  Blood sprayed from the woman’s now broken nose and she fell backwards, stunned. Minerva squatted down and grabbed her by the hair on the back of her head. The woman moaned pitifully and weakly tried to dislodge Minerva’s grip. Minerva slung her weapon and slapped the woman across the face to get her attention.

  “Hey!” Minerva snapped. “Stay with me. I have some questions for you.”

  “You shot me and kicked me in the face.” The slaver moaned.

  “Thanks for the recap, scumbag.” Minerva hissed. “Now tell me what I want to know. Who were you delivering this cargo to?”

  “I don’t know.” The woman whined. “Please just let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Yeah right. Like your bosses won’t want to know where their cargo went?” Minerva asked sarcastically.

  “Please?” The woman begged.

  “Okay, tell me where you were supposed to deliver them and I will let you go.” Minerva offered.

  “I don’t know.” The woman insisted. “We were meeting our boss and he was arranging the transfer.”

  “Who is your boss?” Minerva demanded.

  “Duncan Carter.” The woman finally replied.

  “Describe him.”

  “Tall, middle aged, fancy clothes…”

  “That’s two thirds of the men in the Strip, I need more detail.” Minerva insisted.

  “He has a lot of tattoos and two platinum earrings in his right ear. That’s all I can think of.” The woman swore. “I gave you what you wanted, now let me go.”

  Minerva didn’t answer, but she let go of the woman’s hair and stood up. Raising her submachine gun she shot the woman in the face despite her desperate pleading. Slaver scum deserved no mercy; they were a blight on an already ravaged world. The woman could go to hell.