Blood of the Reaper: A military Scifi Epic (The Last Reaper Book 12) by J.N. Chaney & Scott Moon

Author:J.N. Chaney & Scott Moon [Chaney, J.N.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2021-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

19

Decima took the lead. Five strides behind her, I watched our environment carefully. She knew Zone 3 better than she let on, I thought. Our progress was steady but not rushed. Each street held fewer and fewer JFT patrols. There were fewer streetlights and many of the shops were boarded up, doors chained with heavy locks. Pedestrians ignored us, but groups of people sat with their backs to buildings or squatted in the shadows of alleyways. Those eyes followed us like we were dangerous predators.

“Are you tracking this, X?” I asked.

“Of course, Reaper Cain. I must advise caution. More than a few of these individuals behave as scouts or lookouts. Expect an ambush or robbery in the near future,” X-37 said.

I checked Bug’s location. He walked casually but glanced over his shoulder each time we turned. My friend had come a long way since we met. How much would Elise have changed? Or Novasdaughter? Or any of the men and women I had fought beside to secure Maglan? Where was my sister?

“Focus, Reaper Cain,” X-37 warned.

“Are you mapping this neighborhood?” I asked.

Instead of answering, X-37 placed his work in my HUD. I minimized the size and brightness so it wouldn’t distract me. If I had to retreat or I became embroiled in a running gun battle, the map would be useful. I scanned three hundred and sixty degrees around me when I could but also viewed the buildings looming above to provide my LAI with as much data for analysis as possible. The familiar habit calmed me.

Buildings became shabbier and shorter. The subterranean passages became rougher, carved out of rock and then just left to graffiti and the wear and tear of miners and other laborers coming and going.

Decima slowed until Bug and I joined her near a plaza. The domed ceiling was barely five meters above us and lit by simple LED lights. Color variations gave the edges contrast, but the effect wasn’t breathtaking. Low passages led away in several directions.

“Nana lives in a rough area,” I said.

“She does. She’s protected by the locals, some out of love and respect, but most out of fear.” Decima looked somber, like maybe she regretted bringing me here.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” I said. “Maybe Naaman will be sitting in her living room sipping a cup of tea.”

“That would speed things up,” she said softly. “There aren’t many pedestrians at this hour. No need to spread out. Moving tactically might alarm the locals. Word travels fast. It wouldn’t take long for everyone to lock their doors and cover their windows.”

“We’ll follow your lead,” I said, not really concerned if people retreated into their homes.

The final leg of our trip showed a surprisingly diverse population—men and women of all ages, races, and ethnic backgrounds working to maintain their homes or socialize with their neighbors. A few people greeted us politely, but most just watched us pass by. The lighting became less and less reliable, but I noticed that inside most dwellings, there was a warm glow and the sounds of happy families and friends.

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