Read Wasteland Angel (A World After Novella) Page 6

  Chapter 6

  May 15, 2034

  Outskirts of Las Vegas, NV

  Jonas had given her more training on covert operations before sending her on her first mission. They had worked on camouflage, scouting, and assault tactics. Since she was only one person, she would have to rely on stealth and surprise to ambush her opponents. He had given her the UMP 40, a relic of his past. It was a great statement of the faith and trust he had in her to pass it on to her. The weapon had been maintained well and was in almost mint condition.

  The rest of the gear was used but very serviceable. They had crafted her outfit to help her blend into the desert as much as possible. He had recommended to cut her hair extremely short so no one could get a grip on it, just in case she got caught in hand to hand combat. So she had chopped it mostly off except for the top which she spiked up every morning. She also bathed every morning with scentless soap to remove any odors that might give her away.

  The first mission had been simple. Jonas’ “friends” had given them the route a slaver wagon had been bringing their human cargo into the Strip. Minerva had blocked the road in the outskirts forcing the vehicle to stop. She shot the driver through the head with a short burst from her concealed spot near the road. And then she had shot the passenger, another slaver guard, at almost point blank range when she rushed the truck.

  The prisoners had been astonished when she freed them and handed them the keys to the truck. She had watched them drive off with a great sense of accomplishment. She hadn’t felt any remorse as she buried the bodies in a shallow grave by the side of the road. It was two less scumbags in the world.

  After that, the slavers had provided escort vehicles and the missions had become more difficult. Her second attempt had been a failure and she had barely escaped with her life. Jonas’ “friends” had informed them of another convoy, this one a little larger. Minerva had tried the same trick of blocking their route, but they had been ready.

  The convoy was two slaver wagons and a technical, an SUV with an M-60 light machine gun mounted on top. The slavers had all been on high alert as they entered the outskirts of Vegas. The technical was leading the way and had sniffed out the trap. Guns appeared out of the windows and the gunner had ducked down as they quickly reversed course. She had fired on the gunner and killed him, but another man quickly took his place.

  As the wagons had escaped, the technical remained to engage her. The gunner had kept her pinned down in her hiding place while others disgorged from the vehicle. He didn’t see her, but he knew where the gunfire had come from and he kept up a steady stream of bullets in that area. Afraid to move she was going to be a sitting target for the angry slavers approaching on foot.

  Finally, she made a desperate dash from hiding into the ruined buildings off the road. The gunner had fired furiously at her until he ran out of ammo and had to reload. A few rounds pierced her jacket, but fortunately only one even grazed her. The other gunmen chased her firing wildly. None of them hit her, but fragments of concrete and steel blasted loose by the bullets bloodied her face. She scrambled for safety as the hail of bullets flew all around her.

  The buildings provided some needed cover, but only for a moment. The gunmen on foot, of which there were three, quickly found her and opened fire. The old countertop she was hiding behind provided some cover and she ducked down to avoid the gunfire. The three men, all dressed in jeans and colorful shirts with bulletproof vests over them, had taken up positions in the empty doorway and windows and continued to fire sporadically at her.

  She could hear the technical approach outside and then circle the building. Half of the building’s walls were collapsed, so it was only a matter of time before they found a hole to shoot through at her. The counter would provide little protection against the heaver rounds of the M-60. She had to move or she was done for. It was highly unlikely that she would receive any mercy from the slavers. Best case was actually them just killing her.

  There was a brief moment when all three gunmen were reloading and she took advantage of the window. She hurtled over the counter and rushed them just as the M-60 opened fire and blasted where she had just been hiding. Her sudden attack and the fact that she was a woman had caught the gunmen off guard and she was able to unload a burst into the face of the man at the farthest window. She leapt through the window and kept running as he toppled to the ground missing most of his head.

  The other two had recovered quickly and given chase. One of them managed to shoot her in the left arm, but adrenaline kept her going and she barely slowed. They had played cat and mouse in the ruins for hours. She used every trick Jonas had taught her and they finally gave up and left. She had returned with her head hung low and her arm a throbbing mass of pain. That was the last time she attacked in the daylight.

  The slavers had placed a $5,000 bounty in gold on her head after that attack and beefed up their convoys even farther. It had taken several weeks of planning to launch the last ambush and even though it had gone well, it had been a huge risk. She was lucky they had been lulled into a false sense of security by the long gap of several months between the attacks.

  The recent attack had freed about a dozen slaves, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to the number of slaves believed to be coming into the Strip every month. They needed to do something more impactful if they were going to make a change. She had approached Jonas about it after the latest attack.

  “We need to do something at the source to stop the slaves.” She told him.

  “Oh honey.” He said in a fatherly tone. “There are thousands of slavers working the country right now, with tens of thousands of slaves. There is no way you or I could do enough to end that.”

  “What about the source of slaves coming to Vegas?” She asked, slightly angry.

  “Still too many. I know of at least six different groups bringing in human cargo, and that’s just the ones I know about. We need to focus on doing what we can, we are helping.” He explained tying to mollify her.

  “It’s not enough.” She insisted.” We need to stop the flow altogether.”

  “The only way to do that would be to make it so unprofitable for them they wouldn’t do business in Vegas.” Jonas informed her. “But slaves are very cheap to procure and earn a good profit. You would have to do a lot of damage to make that happen.”

  “What if we lowered the demand in Vegas? Wouldn’t that make it less profitable?”

  “Yes.” He agreed reluctantly. “But you can’t just go tell the casino bosses to stop buying slaves.”

  “Why not?” She said petulantly.

  “No one inside the Strip is going worry about a few slavers getting killed and their cargoes jacked outside the fences, but if you go after someone inside they will take action.” He told her in a very serious voice.

  “What if I just exposed the buyers and made the rest of the Strip aware of what they were doing? It is illegal after all.”

  “That might work.” He acknowledged grudgingly. “But you need to be careful and have absolute proof before accusing anyone. A false accusation will get you exiled at best and killed at worst.”

  “I’m willing to risk it if it means ending the slave trade in Vegas.” Minerva said with finality.