Mercenary at heart
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– Come on, let's get out of here! Leave the poor people alone! Get at least 100 meters away from the car! – George ordered the group, waving his pistol at them. The outcasts turned to him and lined up in a single line, tapping their palms defiantly with metal cylinders. There was only a small space between them. George fired a warning shot into the ground. Instantly the sound of gunfire rippled across the desert and the bullet sank into the soft ground not far from the attackers.
George: “Quick, I said! I'm not kidding!”
Michael turned back, staring out the windshield in front of him. He began to analyze, “How come the car's windshield was shattered and the driver killed if the attackers were only armed with metal sticks? The car could have easily knocked them down and by and large not gotten a single scratch, even at a speed of 40-50 km/h. So we missed something. Something we didn't see. Some danger!”
Another shot rang out, then a second and a third in succession. Michael turned around again. George had collapsed to the ground. Fresh blood oozed from his wounds. Michael's hands shook. He frantically rushed to the glove compartment to pull out the Logistician and check how far away the ambulance and police patrols George had called were. The map showed that the area was not served by any population centers and there was no signal. There was nowhere to go for help.
– What do we do? Think, think…” Michael asked himself, clenching his fingers into fists and wrapping them around his head. He was very frightened.
The line of three men parted, and a fourth man appeared. He was different from the others. It was obvious that he was their leader. His face was covered by a protective black mask with metal tubes in the middle, and he wore an old-style protective body armor over his bare body, as heavy as chain mail. On his legs were black knit pants and boots, and on his hands were leather gloves with spikes on the knuckles. The thug held two large-caliber pistols, which he pointed toward George.
– And you thought you and I were going to fight on sticks. You thought you were going to be a hero, and look where it got you,” the leader of the group leaned toward George, breathing heavily through his metal tubes. He grabbed the gun that had fallen out of Michael's father's hands and threw it toward his group. Some of the men picked it up.
The masked man continued: “You're not a mercenary and never have been. You don't know how such matters are handled. What was all that heroism for? You don't know how to analyze the critical situation around you. And look where it's gotten you: you've hurt yourself and put your… son… in danger… I guess. What did you expect? For the police to come? Ha! I'm gonna disappoint you. This is the suburbs, baby! And the cops don't come here. It's not their territory. So there's no one to help you.”
George didn't move. His eyes were still open, and he was breathing heavily, trying to stay conscious. The masked man walked slowly toward the car where Michael was sitting. The boy straightened up. He looked back and forth at the steering wheel, the gearbox, the glove compartment, the pedals and didn't know what to do. At the same time, his father's last words flashed through his mind. Finally, he turned the ignition key, started the car and shifted gears to get going. All that was left was to release the brake pedal. There was a knock on the passenger window. Michael turned his head.
The masked man was standing across the street, pointing one of his guns at him, “Turn off the engine, kid, and get out of the car unless you want to end up like your daddy!”
There was nothing to do. Michael turned off the power to the car and got out of it. Questions ran chaotically through his mind: “What happens next? Is this the end? Has the order failed? Is the father alive? Will the police and the ambulance come? Will anyone help them? What will happen to Mom when she finds out?”
The gang leader approached Michael from behind, searched the boy, took his cell phone out of his pocket, shoved him in the back and said: “Now go to that car and sit in the back with the other kid. And sit still so I don't hear or see you, or it'll be worse!”
Michael headed toward the wrecked car. For a moment he stopped to look at his father and even wanted to approach him, but then he felt someone's hand on his neck.
– Go forward, I said! Don't make me angry! – The masked man behind him said through gritted teeth.
– Eric! Go take a look at the car. Tell me if you find anything interesting. And don't forget to take the geolocator out of it, if it's plugged in. – the thug turned to one of his goons. Michael looked away from his father in horror and continued driving. Opening the door of the wrecked car, he saw the other boy. He didn't look frightened at first glance and immediately moved to the opposite edge of the back seat, giving Michael his old seat. Silver got into the car and slammed the door behind him. Both of them were silent, neither saying a word as they watched the thugs search the expensive retro car.
– In the glove compartment only their papers and the navigator! I couldn't find anything else! The geolocator was turned off! – One of the bandits shouted, waving a small round device. His name was obviously Eric. It was clear that these were not just outcasts looking for a meal, but people with enough knowledge and skills to be able to carry on a full-fledged criminal activity.
– Bring them here,” the masked man replied. He put the documents in the back pocket of his pants, and the “Logist” carefully examined and threw him to the ground with all his might, so that he shattered into several pieces. After that, the leader kicked the monitor a few more times to make sure that the device was finally broken.
– You two get in the first car, Eric and I will drive the second one! – The masked man ordered his subordinates, pointing at each of them in turn.
– What are we going to do with the boys? – asked one of the bandits.
– They'll come with us, we'll decide later. We've done enough damage here already. It's time to get out of here! – replied the gang leader.
The group split into pairs, and the bandits took the front seats in the stolen cars. The body of the dead driver was thrown out of the car and they headed into the desert, turning off the main road. Michael looked out the rear window of the car. George continued to lie motionless, bleeding more and more by the minute. His eyes were closing and his gaze was fading. The cars were moving away, leaving shallow tracks in the sand behind them. George's body drifted farther and farther out of Michael's field of vision until it was no longer visible.