Right of retribution boo.., p.33
Right of Retribution: Book 3, page 33
“Threatening me will just guarantee I take everything from you!” shouted Skipper over the radio.
“I mean, weren’t you already telling me you were going to take everything from me? That sort of makes threatening you a guarantee,” replied Warner with a confused look on his face. This sounded more like a villain’s monologue than a real life conversation at the moment. “Are you for real?”
“I’m most certainly real!” shrieked Skipper. It was actually loud enough that Warner was almost certain he could hear the echo of her words trail after the words over the radio.
“You seem more like a caricature. I can’t believe Seville has to deal with you,” Warner said and then sighed. “I can see why the Elf was so eager to die. It’d give her a reprieve from you.”
There was no immediate forthcoming response from Skipper. Warner sat there for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders.
“What, now you’re quiet? Alright then,” said Warner. “I’m going to sign off and dump the radio now. No sense in hanging onto it if you know I’m on it.”
“—rape you with your own dick!” screamed Skipper as soon as he let go of the transmit button. Apparently, she was so angry that she had forgotten how to use the radio and was fumbling with it.
“Right. Anyway. Going now,” said Warner.
“If you don’t come and give yourself up, I’m going to broadcast to everyone in the zone about you. That until you’re dead, they can’t leave, and they’ll be hunted,” said Skipper in a voice that sounded raw. “I’m going to give them the next four hours to move about the zone freely in their hunt for you. All those innocent people trying to get you just to save themselves. Because otherwise, I’ll kill them all.
“Whatever will you do? They’re innocent after all. Forced into a situation that’s out of their hands. Forced to do things they wouldn’t wish. Will you kill them and send them on to the next life? That’d be rather terrible of you. Good luck, Warner. I’ll see you soon.”
The radio fell silent as soon as she stopped speaking.
Biting at the inside of his cheek, Warner shook his head. Tugging off the earpiece, he then unclipped the small radio from his belt. Setting it down on the ground, he stomped on it, crushing it. It was nothing more than a pile of plastic afterward.
No one would be attempting to track its location or be able to find it after this, even if they tried.
Unfortunately, Warner felt that he was going to have an issue.
If Skipper carried out her plan, Warner would no longer be in a hostile zone surrounded by neutrals who could possibly be hostile. He’d be in a hostile zone surrounded by hostiles, period.
There could never be any trust Warner could give anyone.
Need to go to ground. Now.
And that’s what they’re doing with this, isn’t it? They’ll stay on my trail, hunting me, while hoping that I’m forced to stop all movement.
Warner clicked his tongue and looked back down the way he’d come from originally. He still had a ways to go to get back to where he started. At least another five or ten minutes of jogging along this particular winding boulevard.
Can’t make it that far. Someone will spot me.
Let’s… just… stop somewhere around here. Attempting to go further is asking for trouble.
Turning his head, Warner looked up at the building behind him. It was a large, sprawling business center with offices located on several floors and a courtyard in the center. The exterior of it had been designed to make it look like some sort of stone-columned type of thing that wouldn’t have ever actually been in style.
Despite that, it looked like it was full with only a single space for rent.
It was filled with a number of small businesses ranging from a massage therapist to medical imaging to a lawyer’s office.
Moving into the courtyard area, Warner grabbed the side of the building and began climbing.
The terrible, tacky design made going up the side of it rather easy. When he reached the third floor, Warner went up and over the half-wall that served as a balcony railing. Walking right up to the entrance to the legal office, Warner tried the door.
It opened easily.
Whoever had left had been in a hurry.
Entering, Warner passed through the reception area and went to the back where there were two offices. When he reached the first office, he went in and closed the door. As there were no windows, doing so plunged the room into darkness.
Warner set the pack down and then pulled out the shortwave radio. He knew exactly where he’d stored it because he wanted it available if he needed it and didn’t want to have to dig for it.
Setting it down on the desk that was central to the room, Warner flicked it on. Extending the antenna, he wasn’t sure if he’d get a signal in here or if he’d have to move. Stringing out the earbud for it, he stuck it in his ear.
Almost immediately, the radio picked up a broadcast.
“—in five minutes,” said a fairly robotic-sounding voice. A preprogrammed one at that. “Attention. Incoming message in five minutes.”
Warner sat down on the ground, opened his pack, and pulled out more beef jerky and trail mix. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to eat something.
After the first bite, he realized he needed to do something else instead. Nature was calling and it demanded Warner listen to her.
Setting down his impromptu meal, Warner shrugged. He realized there were a bunch of legal books around that he could use as toilet paper.
Several minutes later—after making the other office unusable—Warner was ready for the broadcast. Regardless of whatever was stated, threatened, or promised, he was resolved to ignore it.
Skipper was probably getting a bit worried at this point. The odds were that she was running out of time before she’d either have to reveal herself to the government—and set herself up for anyone to come fight her—or close up the search for Warner.
While he’d convinced Miles and Eugenia to stop going after her, he didn’t think they would pass up the chance to come take a shot at Skipper in this situation. Her being “active” was a good way to get someone in front of her with a weapon.
A random thought crossed his mind.
What if no one comes at all, actually?
What if me getting everyone to stop their wars created a situation where no one is willing to come challenge Skipper?
Did I engineer my own end?
“This is a message to everyone in the zone,” said a man over the radio. The sudden change in the repeating message snapped Warner’s attention back to the radio. “Again, this a message to everyone in the zone. The man responsible for this situation is at large.
“His name is Warner James and he is the sole reason martial law has been enacted. At this time, the soldiers in the area will no longer fire on unidentified individuals. Now that we know who the culprit is, we are asking those in the zone for their assistance.
“Should an individual, or a group, capture or kill Warner James, they will each be rewarded a one-million-dollar bounty, payable immediately in cash. Additionally, they will be airlifted out of the zone and taken wherever they wish to go.
“The description of Warner James is as follows—”
Sighing, Warner turned off the radio. He didn’t need to hear anymore.
While they hadn’t said anything about it—in fact, that might have been the point now that he thought about it—there had been no mention of what would happen to those left behind in the zone once Warner had been dealt with.
Knowing what these people had gone through, Warner was nearly positive they would all assume that they’d be killed out of hand. That their lives would be ended if they weren’t the one to capture or kill Warner.
Leaning his head back against the wall, Warner kept eating. There wasn’t anything he could do about any of this, and hiding away was his best choice right now.
Because otherwise, he might be forced to kill people who were actually innocent.
This was playing out just as Skipper likely wanted.
“Bitch,” muttered Warner.
***
Lifting his head, Warner looked to the front door of the legal office.
Over the last several hours, Warner had sensed a growing injustice. One that was slowly making its way through the exclusion zone that Skipper had established.
It was an injustice that he didn’t have to work very hard to figure out either. It was as obvious as the nose on his face.
Everyone was hunting him for the sake of their own survival. They were forming groups, fighting other groups, and looking for him.
All because Skipper made a veiled threat to their safety if they didn’t find him. If someone wasn’t part of the group that found him, then they would likely be killed out of hand.
At the moment, however, Warner had a problem.
One of those groups was currently searching the office building where Warner was hiding. He thought he’d heard them previously, but now he could sense the injustice from them spreading out as they got closer to him.
Warner’s options were quickly dwindling. If he waited any longer, he ran the risk of encountering these individuals face-to-face.
However, fleeing the office ran the risk of starting up yet another chase. While it would be unlikely that anyone would notice him, there was, of course, still a possibility of it.
With a sigh on his lips, Warner threw his pack on and picked up his rifle while getting to his feet. He couldn’t risk hurting innocents who were being forced into this situation.
While he wasn’t going to sacrifice himself for them, he was also not going to make them sacrifice themselves for him.
A quick walk got him to the front door and outside rather quickly.
He only had to stand there for a second or two to get a feeling for where his hunters were. They were on the floor beneath him, going office to office.
Additionally, he could feel Council soldiers. Unsure of how far away they were, he was at least sure of the fact that they were around.
Turning away from the stairs, Warner instead headed for where the elevators were located. It was a far less likely location for them to be coming from since the elevators weren’t working.
Passing by the elevator bank, he kept going. His goal was to move to the farthest side of the office complex, then wait and watch. Once the group made it up to the third floor, he’d hop down to the second and take refuge there.
Hunker down, and let time continue to unwind. The longer he went without contact at all, the better off he’d be. At some point, they’d likely think he’d escaped the encirclement.
“Don’t move,” said a voice off to Warner’s right. It sounded very shaky and rather nervous to him. As if they weren’t really sure of what they were doing.
The speaker was someone just out of sight. They were around a corner, tucked away in a small recess in the building.
Warner hadn’t noticed them in any way.
They didn’t radiate any sense of injustice other than what had been done to them. They were devoid of wrongdoing and, to Warner’s senses, blended almost perfectly into the background of the city.
Turning his head, Warner saw it was a woman in her late twenties. She had a pack on her back that looked like a children’s school bag. Her head was covered by a hat, but he could see tired brown eyes and wisps of brown hair that stuck out.
Just behind her was a young boy who looked no older than seven. The child was pressed up to the back of the woman’s hip and holding onto his coat.
In her hand was a pistol. It looked small to Warner, but he didn’t doubt it would cause him problems if she shot him with it. A number of problems, truth be told.
He’d have to hope that passive use of his powers could take care of it.
Although, that was assuming she didn’t simply shoot him in the head or heart.
If it was the head, he imagined that’d be the end of his story.
Should the heart or similar organs be struck, Warner would have no choice but to activate his power and direct it. Force it to work on healing the wound before he lost his life.
The only alternative beyond all that was activating his powers before she could pull the trigger. However, that would really be just as problematic.
“I said don’t move,” demanded the woman, her voice firming up rather swiftly this time. “Move again and I have to pull the trigger, whether I want to or not. So… so, just don’t move. Don’t move.”
Warner stared at the women, the rifle in his hands feeling incredibly heavy at the moment.
There was no way he could turn the weapon on this poor woman. Taking her life wasn’t something he could do.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” asked the woman, the pistol drifting upward. Clearly, she was now aiming at his head. There was a resolve firming up in her. One that might just lead her to pull the trigger.
“Him?” Warner asked, wondering if he could work his way out of this. It was worth trying to talk his way clear of the situation. The cost to talk was nothing, after all.
“The guy they want. Warner James,” said the woman. The pistol was still leveled at his head. It was also far enough away that he couldn’t make a grab for it.
Apparently, she’d seen enough terrible action movies to know she didn’t need to be right up on him. That doing so was actually a risk to herself.
“Name’s Mitch,” said Warner with full sincerity. It was the truth.
He was Warner as well as Mitch. Both names were his and were part of who he was. They were interchangeable with his person.
“Your appearance is a lot like the description they gave on the radio,” said the woman, the weapon unmoving. So far, she was unswayed by his subterfuge.
“Well, that’s unfortunate for me, since my name is Mitch Hallsy. Just trying to get through this like everyone else,” said Warner.
“But you’re not looking for him,” said the woman, her tone slowly growing cold. “You’re not even curious what I’m talking about. You act like you don’t know about it, profess it’s not you, but don’t ask any questions.
“You’re really suspicious to me, right now. I think you’re Warner and you’re trying to escape that group I saw earlier. They’re coming up the other way aren’t they?”
“He’s sus, Mom,” said the little boy hanging onto the woman’s waist.
“Pull your wallet out. Throw your ID over,” replied the woman, tilting her head to one side.
“Lost it,” lied Warner.
“Uh-huh, what’s that bulge in your back pocket then? I can see it,” proclaimed the woman. At the same time, she took two steps back, moving her son farther away from Warner.
Then she reached up and gripped the pistol with both hands.
Damnit. There’s no way out of this is there?
Not without doing something I don’t want to.
“My name is Mitch,” said Warner, who started moving now. He was taking steps away from the woman and towards the half-wall that acted as a railing. “Not sure who this Warner person is, not sure what’s going on, don’t really even care. I just want to lie low and let this whole thing blow by. It doesn’t concern me at all.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and her finger began to shift on the trigger.
“You’re him. You’re Warner,” she said. The resolve to shoot him dead was clear in her eyes.
Warner couldn’t blame her. He’d probably go to great lengths to save Maya. He couldn’t really answer mentally if he’d murder someone for her, but he knew it would be hard for him.
Maya’s life was worth more than anyone else’s to him.
Then the woman closed her eyes, turned her face away from him, and let the pistol drop down. She held it loosely in one hand. As if she’d given up.
“What’s your name?” Warner asked, as realization dawned on him.
She was sure that he was Warner, the man everyone wanted, but she had decided not to pull the trigger. She had made the choice to not become a murderer.
“Elizabeth Daniels,” mumbled the woman.
“You live in Florida?” Warner asked. He wanted to know how to find this woman later.
“Mm. Tampa,” replied the woman. Then she turned away from him and got down on one knee, hugging her son close.
Even in the darkest times, I suppose there are those who will hold the light.
Warner didn’t waste any more of her time.
Stepping over the half-wall, he let himself fall. He landed in the courtyard of the second-floor business offices. Not far in front of him was the imaging center he’d noticed on the billboard out front.
Entering it, Warner got down behind the desk and readied himself.
He wasn’t out of the woods by any means.
Thirty-Three
Warner jerked to the side as the radio came to life. The earbud in his ear cracked suddenly with static before it went to a soft steady tone.
Twenty seconds later came the voice from earlier.
“Attention. Incoming me—”
The transmission cut off abruptly and was replaced by silence.
“I’m done with this. Done!” screeched Skipper over the radio. “This isn’t working, so we’re changing it. Making this into something I’m far more familiar with!”
Great. Now what?
Time must be running out.
Thinking about it, Warner realized it had already been a day since the original broadcast. He’d been in hiding the entire time.
No one had ever come close to catching him since the last encounter.
There was a sudden gunshot over the radio. It was unmistakable for what it was as it peaked the microphone.
“That’s one, Warner James!” shrieked Skipper. “For every ten minutes that you’re not in front of me, I’m just going to kill another person!
“Every single one of these deaths will be on you, and I’ll be honest… after they all failed to catch you, I had them all rounded up. I have quite a few people all lined up here.
“Men, women, children, everything. Across all wa— whatever. I’ll kill ’em. Kill ’em all. One by one. Until you get your damn ass over here so I can put a bullet in your brain.
