The Sopaths by Piers Anthony

Author:Piers Anthony [Anthony, Piers]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9781936383887
Publisher: Fantastic Planet Books
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

“Understand,” Abner said grimly. “We’re not doing this because we like violence or killing, but because the criminals are trying to kill us and we have to be rid of them. We want them to conclude that this section of town is simply too dangerous for them to operate freely, so they will go elsewhere and leave us alone.”

“We know, daddy,” Dreda said. “It’s like killing sopaths.”

“Exactly. We are using Nefer because she can best do the job, not because we prefer her to you.”

“We know,” Clark said. “She doesn’t mind killing.”

“This is dangerous. We could both get killed. If so--”

“We know,” Bunty said. “If you die, I will look for another man in Pariah, to maintain the family.” She paused, then added “But please don’t die.”

“I’ll certainly try. I love you.”

Bunty paused again, opened her mouth, then dissolved into tears. They all clustered together, sharing another grief session, only this one was for him. In case he died. Bunty had tried to pass the prospect off incidentally, but gotten overwhelmed. They had all experienced the awful loss of their families, and didn’t want it to happen again. And the fact was they did love each other, and the children. Their assembly as a de facto family might have been haphazard, but it had become quite real emotionally and practically.

Then Bunty was kissing him passionately. The children departed, letting her savagely seduce him. They understood.

That night he went out alone, fetched the wagon with the mine, and quietly wheeled it along the dark street. The heavy load was covered by a tarpaulin; it could have been anything from potatoes to children. They had considered a fancier camouflage, but concluded that it was pointless; the gangsters would quickly check it regardless. This needed to be brutally fast. He did not head directly to his destination, and checked everything around him to be sure no one was watching.

Nefer appeared, stepping from the shadow. “I have it, Mr. Slate.”

“Not yet. It’s heavy.”

“Haul it to the low hill beyond the site. Then I’ll ride it down.”

“Nefer, it’s a bomb!”

“It won’t go off until I pull the plug.” That was her way of describing the catch mechanism they had used to secure the mine. It was armed, but stifled; removal of that catch would set it off.

He did not argue further. He hauled the wagon along, and she paced him, peering around to be sure they were alone. He was highly conscious of the bomb, because they had packed it with kerosene-soaked wood chips and newspaper, hoping that it would set a fire when it went off. They did not want it going off prematurely.

In due course they were on the hill. A slight slope led down to the gangster’s center of operations. “My turn,” Nefer said, putting her hand on his on the handle.

“Remember, when you activate it, you will have perhaps ten seconds to get well away before it detonates,” he reminded her. “It doesn’t have a proper timing mechanism. Do it and run.

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