Cullsman 9 by Michael John Grist

Author:Michael John Grist [Grist, Michael John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781496117113
Published: 2014-01-15T23:00:00+00:00

7. HUNTING GROUND

REN, TEKALUS, LORIE

They pick up the blip off the bait drop corner, burning bright green on the inner screen of their visors, flashing with a rapid-fire heartbeat. It's the strongest they've ever seen, each blood beat swelling like a tiny supernova, waves lapping across their in-screen maps, washing out the grey map-lines of buildings and roads beneath it.

"He's a fat one, isn't?" says Lorie, plumping out his black exo-arms like they're resting on a fat belly.

Ren and Tekalus wince at the static burst in their helmets, flip the comms off.

"Shut up, would you?" says Ren.

"You oaf," says Tekalus.

Lorie lets his arms drop back to his weapon, a smooth black tube slung over his shoulder, hinged at its rear to his exo-frame shoulder.

"I'm just saying, it's a strong pulse."

"So that makes him fat?" asks Ren

"It's just a joke. You guys don't get anything."

Ren sighs, his breath crackling through the visors comms. "Yeah, funny. Look, he's probably not fat, OK. The signal's big, could just mean he hasn't eaten for ages, or he's hypoglycemic."

"That's right," adds Tekalus. "It's not a measure of how much blood he's got, just how much tracer he's pumping in his veins."

"I know that, it was a joke!"

"And look at how fast he's going, you think a fat guy full of bait could move like that?

"Just shut up, alright? I know this, I-"

"Settle down," says Ren. "Just look at him go."

The other two fall silent, watching the green blip dash round a building some ten blocks distant, its pulse rippling out to distort the screen. Ren runs his gauntleted hands on the steering yoke of his motex, slides his armored legs into place, and guns the engine. The others follow suit, see each other's heart rates spike with excitement in their visors, as the green blip stops for a second, maybe skips a beat.

He heard. Now it's a hunt.

Ren tears off into space, leaving the other two stranded at the Out. Within seconds they follow.

The Dome's ground whips by grimy and splintered beneath them. Overturned cars lie like dried up ants in dead road-beds, curled and dim in the harsh motex under-lights. Skyscraper ground floors leer at impossible angles, held rigid but buckled under the weight of the Dome.

Ren's voice crackles through the visor to Tekalus and Lorie.

Ren- Call if you get eyes on.

Tekalus- Yeah. Pretty dark sector this, huh?

Ren- Level 3 on the listing. Fatboy out there must be resident, the way he's moving round. He knows the place.

Lorie- It was a joke, just stop saying it OK?

Tekalus- You sure this sector's licensed right now? I don't read any other hunters.

Ren- They're here. Got a message from a contact, said they were emptying out the blocks down by the river, flushing them all here.

Tekalus- What contact?

Ren- Just another hunter, said it was a good haul. Trust me.

Tekalus- Alright. He say what kind of targets they get?

Ren- Fitter than the dregs, he said. They feed them up, run them regular to keep them in shape.

Tekalus- Good, we need a challenge.

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