Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (2 page)

The girl nodded toward Daniel. “I caught him for you, without a fight. See, I can be useful.”

Red’s big hands grabbed her ass. “I'm sure you can.”

She pushed him away. “I'm an
Undertakers'
girl.”

“Don't mean shit here. From now on, you're a
Meat Packers'
girl, until we get bored of you.”

“If you hurt me, they'll kill you.”

“That's what the last
Undertakers'
newbie said, just before I killed him. Hasn't hurt me yet.”

“They'll find me. And you.”

He stepped closer, and grabbed her ass again. “It's a big planet, and there might be a dozen
Undertakers
on it. I'll be dead before they find you.” He pulled the front of her suit open, and stared down at her bare breasts as they flopped out. “Meantime, you've got a few things I want.”

She glanced around at the other men, then lifted Red's chin, stared into his big, black eyes, and smiled. She put her arms around his neck, and raised her face toward him, lips open.

“That's more like it,” he said.

He pulled her toward him, and leaned forward. His long tongue slobbered as it slid from his lips. She moaned and writhed as he pushed it between hers, and explored the inside of her mouth. A drone buzzed in for a closeup.

“Me next,” the bearded man said.

The one-armed man slapped his chest. “Hey, I ain't been laid in a year.”

“There's a reason for that. And it ain’t your arm.”

Red's furry hand pushed into the front of her suit. Then he shrieked, his eyes bulged, and he grunted, as she rammed her knee into his balls. He dropped to his knees and grabbed them.

She pulled a rough iron dagger from the belt of the one-armed man, and slashed it across his chest. He yelped as he backed away, and she barged past him, running for the woods.

The men froze in surprise.

“Get the bitch, you ssstupid fuckersss,” Red gasped, a rain of blood spraying from his mouth as he spoke.

They ran, and their beasts lunged ahead. The bearded man stared after them. Daniel kicked him in the back of his leg. The man yelled as he fell forward into the mud. Daniel turned and ran, toward the woods, but away from the girl.

Sweat covered his forehead, rain dripped down his face, and sweat was running down the inside of the jumpsuit. His arms and legs felt like lead. Couldn’t he just stop for a rest?

No, his only chance was to keep moving.

The hunters’ hounds hissed louder as he approached the trees. A few more seconds, and he’d have some cover, could look for a place to hide, and get rid of the jumpsuit that made him so easy to spot. Maybe, if he found a river and followed it, they would lose his scent. That had worked in an underground VR game he'd played back home.

The girl yelled.

He glanced back, just in time to see one of the hounds lunge toward her, jump, and smack its weight against her back. It knocked her flying, and she rolled across the muddy ground in a ball with the creature on top of her, then came to a stop on her back with its jaws snapping at her face.

She stabbed it in the eyes, and tried to slide away, but the men were on her, dragging the beast away and grabbing her arms and legs. Sunlight flashed on metal as their knives slashed across her jumpsuit. She struggled as they tore the cloth away from her body, leaving her naked in the mud.

Daniel had never seen a real naked girl before. And he'd never imagined the first time would be like that. Now he wished it hadn’t.

Grunts came from behind him. Most of the men were swarming over the pods or the girl, but the hairy one was still following him.

The girl screamed again, and tried to pull herself away from the hunters. They grabbed her legs, and laughed as they dragged her back toward them, while her hands clawed at the ground, and mud smeared her skin. The hissing behind Daniel grew louder, and the hounds’ feet squelched through the mud and puddles. But he could barely hear their noises over his own gasping breath.

Don't look at her. Don't listen to the screams. She deserved it, for trying to save her hide by handing him over to them.

No, don't think that. Never think that. She was just trying to survive, like him. He might have done the same, if he'd been thinking straight. The nice, safe world he came from was gone. There was no PubSafe here. No-one was going to protect him, if he got in trouble.

Don't trust anyone. They may look sweet and innocent, but it doesn't mean they are.

Never forget. They're all guilty of something.

And just keep running.

S
hit. Guy crouched at the edge of the wood, hidden among the tall plants, peering through his folding telescope with his one good eye. The plain was descending into chaos as hunters and their hounds chased the newbies from the dozens of pods that had landed there.

He'd just wanted an easy day, find one newbie with no idea of what they'd gotten themselves into, eager for someone to show them the ropes. Now, those not already captured or dead were scattering in front of the hunters as fast as they could. More pods floated through the sky to the south-west, gliding toward the mountains beneath orange and white parachutes. Even more of them burned long trails of smoke across the sky, still decelerating high in the atmosphere, and heading toward the sea, or the land of Over The Sea, if there really was one. No way was he trekking through the mountains, fighting his way through a hundred kilometres or more of bandit country.

Hunters jumped onto a pod about a hundred metres away. One of them peered in for a second, before a muscular arm covered in brown fur reached out, and a furry paw wrapped long fingers around his neck. Guy targeted the pod with his skulltop, and a drone hovering above the plain twisted down toward it, sending video back, straight into his brain. The hunter's face turned red as the fingers squeezed, and his own fingers grabbed the arm that held him. Then he rose into the air as a hairy brown face peered out of the pod at the men and beasts around him. Some kind of human/animal hybrid, and a big one. Body mods, especially for strength and speed, weren't uncommon among the types who ended up on Hades.

The hunters poked spears at the hybrid, and the hounds howled and lunged at the sides of the pod. The hunter in the newbie's hand struggled for a few seconds more, then his head flopped down as the hybrid's arm snapped his neck, before it tossed the limp body aside.

The hybrid smiled, exposing sharp teeth. “Come on, then,” he said with a low growl, and raised a clawed paw, motioning the hunters toward him.

No, not a he. As the hybrid rose from the pod, it had all the right bumps in all the wrong places. A she, not a he, built like a tank and shaped like a bear. This could be entertaining.

The hunters crept forward, swinging their knives and spears. Better them than me. She just smiled at them. Two archers at the rear of the mob pulled back their bowstrings, and aimed their arrows her way. Her eyes watched them, without turning her face from the rest of the mob.

One of the hounds jumped toward her, and tried to grab her forearm. She pulled her arm aside, grabbed the hound by the neck and one back leg, and twisted. He could hear the grinding of bone on bone, and the snap of the creature’s back breaking, even from that distance. She continued twisting, until the head came away in her hand, and the neck sprayed hot, steaming blood down the side of the pod.

The other hounds backed away, and the men followed. She motioned for them to come closer, but they just looked at each other. Then one pulled his spear back, aimed, and threw.

She tossed the creature's dead body toward the archers. Their arrows flew uselessly into the sky as it smashed them down. Then she grabbed the spear in mid air, and jumped from the pod. A hound lunged toward her legs, but she kicked it in the face, and it tumbled backward across the mud, sliding to a stop in a whining lump beside the moaning archers.

The hunter who had attacked her backed away, but she yelled and lunged for him. The others dodged aside, and she rammed the spear up into the hunter’s belly, then pushed until it burst from his mouth in a fountain of blood.

She raised the spear, and held the man off the ground. His eyes bulged wide, then went blank. His intestines slid down the shaft of the spear, and steamed where they slipped from her hand and dangled down toward the ground.

“Any more of you with bigger balls than brains?” she yelled, her eyes scanning the mob. “Brunhilde's waiting.”

The men turned and ran, the hounds close behind them. Brunhilde tossed the dead hunter aside, then strode off across the plain. Now there was a girl who could take care of herself.

Guy swung the telescope across the carnage. A tall blonde newbie was swinging a spear at a bull-headed hybrid, while three other hunters approached her from all sides, whips in their hands, and hounds howling and straining against their leashes.

The hunters who had just run from Brunhilde now swarmed toward the blonde. Not much hope for her. Two hounds chased a fat newbie as he hobbled across the plain, and they knocked him to the ground as hunters strolled behind them with leather cords in their hands. A bearded, dark-haired man with muscles the size of tree trunks had two hunters at his feet, their heads smashed in pools of blood, while he dodged their hounds’ attacks.

A high-pitched scream brought Guy's attention back to the job at hand. He swung the telescope. The kid he'd seen earlier leading a girl toward the woods had disappeared. The girl lay naked in the mud, surrounded by hunters. Far too late for her.

Where was the boy? The scope swung past an orange suit moving toward the woods. Guy swung it back until he could see the boy’s face, and follow his movements.

Ah, he left the girl to save his own skin. Dumb enough to try to save her, smart enough to leave her to the hunters, not brave enough to jump into an impossible fight.

He'd do.

“I thought I smelled your ugly stench.”

Guy turned at the words, dropped the telescope, and pulled the flintlock revolver from his belt. A grey paw wrapped around his wrist, pushing the gun back down. Dark brown eyes above a wet nose stared down into his from a furry face.

“What are you doing here, boy?” the hybrid said.

The day was just getting worse. How had Sparky managed to sneak up without him hearing? The asshole was half-dog, not half-cat. And his leg never healed right after Guy broke it.

“It's not what you think.”

“Here to catch some fresh meat for yourself? This is
Meat Packers'
territory. You know that.”

The girl screamed again.

“Sounds like you boys got your meat already.”

“Good hunting this year. We'll be partying tonight.”

“I should be going.”

Sparky leaned closer. “I should rip your throat out, and have you for supper.”

“I wouldn't taste good.”

Sparky grabbed the lapels of Guy's fur-trimmed leather jacket, and pulled him to his feet. “And that's the only reason you're still alive. Not worth selling, not worth eating, not worth killing.”

“See. I'm not all bad.”

The drone buzzed through the branches above them as it scanned the area. No-one else nearby. Good.

Sparky raised a paw and extended his claws. “Maybe I should rip out that other eye, then you wouldn’t be coming back here to bother us no more.”

Guy smiled as he slid his hand slowly down to his belt.

“Oh, I won’t be back again. Trust me.”

A bemused frown crossed Sparky’s face as Guy’s dagger slammed into his chest. The blade slid between the ribs, then the handle twitched as the knife stabbed his heart.

“Fuck,” Sparky gasped, then slumped to the ground.

The handle was no longer twitching when Guy pulled the dagger free, then wiped it clean on Sparky’s fur.

T
hen Daniel was in the woods, running, with his hands still tied behind his back. He twisted his wrists against the cord, but it held tight. He hunched down to protect his face as his body smashed through branches, and his legs and feet tore through the tall, thin, spiky plants that made up the undergrowth. He dodged between tree trunks, then zigzagged left to right around them. His foot slipped on the fresh mud, and pain stabbed his shoulders as he tried to grab a branch to support himself, forgetting his hands were tied. He grunted as he slumped down on his ass, and rolled to a stop.

The hairy hunter was still coming, two hound creatures still with him, howling. They must still smell Daniel’s scent. He leaned back until his hands touched the ground, pushed himself up, then lunged forward until he could stand upright.

He couldn’t keep going straight ahead, or they’d know where he was. Left or right?

Crunch. Something crashed through the undergrowth to the left. He swung right, and threw himself on top of a fallen tree, pushed himself over with his legs, and slid down the far side. He panted for a second as more feet crunched through the plants behind him, then pushed away from the tree trunk and raced onward as fast as his rubbery legs could still carry him. He had to lose them soon, or he never would.

The hounds howled from the left. Keep going right.

But what if they were trying to herd him that way?

The howling was louder, and branches cracked. They were closer, and getting closer all the time. This was their territory, not his, they knew where to go, where the woods went, how to travel through them. And, if that wasn't bad enough, a drone buzzed above his head, dodging between branches and trunks. The noise and movement gave them another way to track him down. He was doomed.

Up ahead, waves crashed against rocks, the sound deadened by the leaves. He was going the wrong way, toward the sea. A few more minutes, and he could be facing the water, with nowhere else to go. If he could even run that far.

If he'd lived in a barracks for commissars' kids, he might have known what to do, after watching past recordings, eager for his next fix of death and violence. But, then, he wouldn’t be there. They weren't Condemned, if they even reached a trial. A few words in the right ear, and the case would be dropped or bargained down, with no recourse for their victims.