Judge Dredd: Year Two by Michael Carroll

Author:Michael Carroll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

12.43 pm

THEY MADE THEIR way through McCluskey steadily but cautiously, sticking to the secluded areas where possible. Maze said she knew a back route that would keep them under the radar. Both knew speed was essential, but Dredd told her not to risk stumbling upon another gaggle of Murder Corps gangbangers on the prowl. The pain came in waves, but he was determined not to let it overwhelm him, even when he felt on the fringes of a blackout. That was when he told Maze to wait for a second, let him grit his teeth and push through, before continuing. It made progress slow but gave them time to listen for the sound of approaching bodies; they heard shouts occasionally, the pounding of feet on the floor above, and only moved when they were sure the coast was clear. The Judge was becoming increasingly concerned that he wouldn’t be able to protect either of them in a firefight; that the shakes and the impaired vision were going to make him a liability. Maze was still armed, of course, but he doubted she’d pulled the trigger before today. If they could avoid any kind of confrontation it would significantly increase their survival prospects.

They met few block residents, and those they did encounter just stared at them in silent curiosity. Any one of the cits could easily raise the alarm and make life a whole lot more difficult, but they seemed cowed, submissive. They had no more love for the gangs than they did Justice Department; there were no sides, no loyalties, just fear and isolation.

“The Murder Corps work for Winstanley?” he asked as they limped on.

“No, he just lets them operate,” Maze answered. “They probably kick back a tribute to him outta respect, but they ain’t his soldiers. Too damn batshit crazy to be relied upon. They’re always squabblin’ amongst themselves anyhow, fightin’ over who gets to be top dog. That’s when they ain’t kickin’ off with the Furies across the way. Big juves, basically.”

“Who does he have, then?”

“He’s got his own men. You see ’em comin’ down in the el. Scary dudes you know you don’t wanna mess with. The MC gives ’em a wide berth; they know whose block it is really.”

Dredd grunted in response, plainly unhappy with that last remark. That he should be forced to negotiate with the creep at the top when he should be locking him away in a cube grated, there was no question of that. The order of the universe had been upended: here he was, diminished, trying to skulk off lawless territory while he still had breath in his body. He wondered if his thoughts kept returning to Rico because his clone-brother’s fall from grace was no more shameful than Dredd’s own failure today—failing the badge, failing as a Judge, letting the perps get the upper hand. His authority had been undermined, his ability called into question; if he was facing a challenge like this in his second year, did he have what it took to last another five? Ten? Few helmets made it to retirement age.

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