Writers of the Future, Volume 27 by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard [Hubbard, L. Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, fantasy
Publisher: Galaxy Press, L.L.C.
Published: 2011-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

I still craved it, stronger than any drug. It was a million times worse now than the simple pang I felt performing an eviction. Even remembering the moments of intense pain, I wanted it. Needed it.

“Anyone I save from you is worth it for that alone,” I said.

Another step toward me, his feet scuffing in the ash. The gun was only pointed at his feet. I couldn’t sustain holding it any higher than that. “You don’t want to stop us,” he said. “We’re showing the world that the Northern Coalition is no different from any other set of rulers in the past. Convincing them they must put aside their complacency and rise up.”

I thought about the riots.

How many people did he have in his makeshift bonehouse? How many did he hold in other bone-houses across the country? “You never were Sammy Gauge, were you?”

“Of course not, although he was one of my best,” he said. “He and I had too much in common, if you found us.”

He took another step. He asked, “Do you remember when you used to have an effect on the world, instead of simply taking money to rearrange other people’s lives? I don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t want to come back. This world isn’t getting any better, is it?”

Every year, another disaster.

“You’d take me back just like that,” I said. Twenty minutes and I’d be in. This time, there’d be no David to pay for my eviction.

“Just like that,” he said.

I brought the gun up again, leaning on the escalator rail with my hip and using both hands to aim. I hit him twice, once in each leg. I hadn’t aimed to kill, though at that moment I’m not sure I would have minded if I did.

He went down, screaming, cursing. I dropped the gun, afraid he’d get it from me if I brought it nearer to him.

“There’s more at stake here,” he yelled at me, clutching one shin in both hands, even though it was bleeding just the same as the other, his gray pants gone a dark, bloody red.

“I know,” I said, and then I got the tranquilizer into him.

The mall was silent again, except for the sound of my breathing and a cat mewling somewhere far off. I crawled over to where I’d left the gun and cradled it, watching for anyone coming out of the hallways or up the escalator.

The screen of my phone was cracked, but it still worked. I sent out my SOS call with my GPS location. Told them to bring first-aid resources and enough people to take care of Trexell’s illegal bonehouse.

Jealous congratulations started pouring in, but I ignored the messages.

I watched the reflections of dark clouds in the mirrored surfaces of skyscrapers. I wondered if I’d won.

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