CHAPTER 4

Hera: Middle of Nowhere

Safe for awhile so I took stock.

Physically, not too bad. The knee held up okay, but I can tell that it’ll swell up and ache for at least the next half a day or so. Ridge runnin’ and stump jumpin’ is a young man’s game, and I surely ain’t that no more. Been a long hard road gettin’ to this point, and no mistake.

Mentally.......fair to middlin’, all things considered. Never did seem to have a problem with my head when shit was flyin’ all around. Comin’ down off the jazz, though, that’s another thing entire. Sittin’ here shakin’ so gorram bad I can’t even get my canteen out to take a drink.

At least nuthin’s messed with the hide that I can see. Was afeared a bear might’ve been denned up, seen the scat as I made my way up this little canyon, but all to the good when I finally dragged my sorry ass in here. When the shakes get done I can set up, get myself patched up and rested. Gorram blackberries are like razor wire around here, one of the reasons I picked this place.

Seems like my life just been runnin’ in one big circle. I hunted these very hills, or near enough when I was a boy. Couldn’t wait to shake the dust of this world from my boots when I joined up, and where did they send me? A week before the Valley I was in these same damn hills, sneakin’ and peekin’ , makin’ life miserable for the purple-bellies. Now here I am again. If this is some kind of cosmic practical joke, I surely do not get the punch-line.

My own damn fault, of course. Shoulda just took the bounty, short as it was, from Mr. Barty and cleared out on the first thing smokin’. But he pissed me off, stiffin’ me like that, and I don’t take that off nobody.

Persephone: 15 Months Ago

I hate bein’ in cuffs. Reminds me of way too many times I been shackled to a wall, then beat half senseless by some Alliance goon furtherin’ my “rehabilitation” in the “re-education facility” I got dumped in after the Valley. That’s a prison camp for those of you ain’t figgered it out.

“Jacob, Aloysius, McAllister. Now there’s a mouth full. Hmmm....”, the cop said, reading off my Cortex printout. “Scouts? Twice decorated, says here. You were one of the holdouts in the Valley? Boy, you got more balls than brains, I’ll give you that.”

“Here’s the deal,” he continued, setting the printout aside,“I got you for drunk and disorderly, and the owner is pressing charges for all the damages. Doesn’t look to me like you can afford a night with a second class whore let alone pay up this bill.”

True enough, times had been a bit lean for me of late. I’d heard that Sam’s was a place to go to maybe get a lead on some work. What a snake pit. It was the kind of place you went when the bottom weren’t far off, populated mostly by folk you’d cross the street to avoid. The word I’d gotten in other bars was that the better quality low-lifes would sometimes go there to recruit.

At this point in time I wasn’t apt to be fussy. I’d done some petty thievery on other worlds, takin’ down other crooks. It’s not like I stole from good folk. Just enough to tide me over til I found honest work, which apparently was in short supply here. Time to don my black hat again, just for awhile.

One minute just the babble of voices, next thing there’s a bottle come flyin’ at my head. I swatted it out the air before it connected, but it landed a couple tables over, which the folk there didn’t appreciate one bit. Soon enough it turned into a real donnybrook, chairs, bottles, and riff-raff flyin’ every which way.

I held my own, tryin’ to just defend my little corner. Did pretty well until I got knocked down, then caught a boot to the head. I vaguely recall gettin’ chucked through the door, then nuthin’ til I woke up here with bracelets on.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance, officer.”

I turned my head to take in my possible benefactor.

“Mr. Barty,” the cop said, leaning back in his chair. “I should’ve known. This one of yours?”

“He could be,” came the reply.