Chains of Freedom Page 2

  "Would you hurry it up?" RJ screamed.

  He ran over and jumped on the bike behind her. He would have liked to drive, but he had no idea how. The only thing he had ever driven was a farm tractor, and he hadn't been very good at that.

  At first, David sat loosely on the back, but as RJ started slinging them down the rough trail at break-neck speeds, he found himself clinging to her for dear life. She seemed to be oblivious to such obstacles as rocks and trees. He wondered if this was the same woman who had claimed to be a lover of her own life just the night before. David took comfort in the idea that the bike couldn't possibly go any faster, and then they hit the pavement.

  David was scared shitless. Up till right then, the fastest thing he'd ever been on was the town whore. He was sure he couldn't have been any more petrified, and then he caught sight of a Reliance cop flashing his lights behind them.

  "Oh shit! What do we do now?" David said, his panic showing in his voice.

  "We pull over and see what the gentleman wants," RJ said. "Just keep cool, and everything will be all right." She pulled the bike over, and they came to a stop.

  The police car stopped right behind them.

  RJ got off the bike, and David followed suit.

  "Any problem, officer?" she asked.

  David tried his best to look unconcerned.

  "Standard procedure," the officer stated, proving that he had studied his handbook well. "I'll have to see your military free-days pass."

  Of course he assumed they were military. They were wearing the jackets, and they had access to a motorbike. Civilians didn't have either.

  David swallowed hard, and started to go through his pockets. Very slowly at first, and then more urgently. It was OK that he looked nervous. After all, everyone was nervous when dealing with Reliance police.

  David shrugged, raising his open hands in a gesture of frustration. "I don't seem to have them," he said, sounding quite convincingly upset.

  "Could you give me your pass numbers then? I'll just run them through the machine," the officer suggested with surprising patience.

  "Oh, come on, officer," David whined, "who remembers their pass numbers?"

  "I do," the officer said."I'm sorry—he didn't sound sorry; he sounded bored—"but you know the rules. I must either see your passcards, or you must recite your numbers so that I may run them through the machine."

  David assumed an expression of intense concentration. "Seven, seven, two—no. Seven, seven, four—no." Suddenly, he turned on RJ.

  "I could have sworn I told you to get the passcards," he said hotly. David, of course, had never seen a pass-card in his life. RJ caught on quickly; she shrugged.

  "I'm sorry," she said, assuming an air of total indifference.

  "You're sorry." He sounded as if he were barely controlling his temper. Then he exploded. "Sorry! Why, you stupid bitch! This is the first free-days pass we've had since we got married. You did this on purpose because you don't like sex." All David's very genuine terror lent veracity to his assumed rage, and the outlet in turn helped him regain control.

  RJ kept a smile from her face only with great effort, and managed to play along. "Oh, please. You're not going to start all that again are you?" she sighed.

  David looked at the officer, man appealing to man."The Reliance gave me three women to choose from. I went for looks, and wouldn't you know it, I wind up with the one that doesn't like to screw."

  The officer started to speak, beginning to look uncomfortable, but RJ jumped in first.

  "How am I supposed to get turned on by a guy that likes to wear my underclothes? Would you tell me that?"

  "That's a lie!" David screamed back, turning to face RJ.

  "Go ahead, officer, ask him to drop his drawers, and we'll just see who's lying," RJ demanded, with an air of wronged innocence.

  "Oh, that's not fair!" David cried accusingly. "You know I always wear them when we're on the bike." He turned to the officer appealingly. "They keep me from chaffing. You understand, don't you?"

  "Oh, really, Howard, you don't expect him to buy that, do you?" RJ asked with disgust. "It's you who purposely forgot the passes so that you could go back to the house and go through my clothes!"

  "Lying bitch!" David screamed. The two faced off, totally ignoring the officer. RJ opened her mouth to scream something back, but the officer had obviously had enough. He whistled to get their attention, and threw up his hands as if to ward them off.

  "Enough! It's obvious that you two are only a threat to each other, so just go on about your free days. I suggest that you take the time to try to work out your differences. As you know, the Reliance hardly ever sanctions a second marriage."

  "Thank you, officer," David started pumping his hand. "Thank you very much!"

  "Yes, well, just do me a favor, and try not to kill each other in my jurisdiction," he said.

  He shook his head as he watched them drive away. "You meet all kinds on this job."

  It was dusk when they reached the town. It was run-down, but still very much alive. The streets teemed with activity, none of which was Reliance sanctioned. Bars lined the roads, far outnumbering restaurants. They stopped at what seemed to be the busiest bar in town. It had golden arches outside, obviously a relic from antiquity, the plastic coating was beginning to flake. Even so, one could clearly see "Billions and Billions served" written below the arches. In answer to David's question, RJ said that no one knew what the "Billions served" were. Some speculated that they were drinks. Some of the hookers claimed it referred to satisfied Johns, but no one really knew—or cared.

  David listened with a feeling of relief as the engine died. They got off the bike. David tried to stretch out his weary muscles, but that only aggravated his saddle sores. RJ looked as sharp as she had that morning, and David fought the urge to smack her. He followed RJ inside, where they sat on stools at the bar. The bar was low, and the stools were wooden and crudely made. David would have preferred to stand, but he supposed that would have been too conspicuous.

  "What's yer poison?" the bartender asked.

  "Whiskey, beer chaser," RJ said, without noticing the strange look David gave her.

  In David's experience, you could have a whiskey, or you could have a beer, but you couldn't have both at one time. That was against Reliance Law. But then so was most of what he had seen since they drove into town.

  "And what can I get for you?" the bartender asked David.

  "Ah, just a beer," he said. He was given a beer, and one sip told him that this was not Reliance-approved beer. It was too strong for that. This was more like the "whiskey" they had back home. David took a look around the bar. The other customers, like he and RJ, were wearing non-regulation clothing. There wasn't a proper uniform in sight. You couldn't tell whether these people were farmers, ranchers, cloth makers or military. Where the hell had RJ brought him? As if reading his mind, RJ started talking in a low whisper that was barely audible above the constant din.

  "Welcome to Alsterase, David. Nothing in this city is up to Reliance code. This is where escaped prisoners, tax evaders, politicos, and riffraff of virtually every type come to escape the Reliance," she explained.

  "I've never heard of it," David said. "Why doesn't the Reliance just come wipe them all out in one fell swoop?"

  RJ smiled, then ordered another drink. When it came, she explained. "Like you said, you've never heard of it. To attack the town would be to admit that such a place exists at draw attention to these rebels. Besides, Alsterase plays a very important role in Reliance politics."

  "What's that?" David asked. By now, he was thoroughly confused, and looked it.

  "If a rebellion ever starts, it's a fair bet that it will start here in Alsterase, the home of the malcontents. If you know where your enemy is, you know where to go to crush them quickly and completely."

  David nodded his understanding.

  "As long as there's a place for the malcontents to go, they'll go there. As long as they're here, th
ey can't be in the towns stirring others into a rabble. As long as they're not stirring up any trouble, it's in the Reliance's best interest to leave them here to attract those rebellious souls who slip through the system." As RJ finished, she picked up the whiskey and downed it, then started on the beer.

  David allowed his brain a few minutes to soak up what he'd just heard."OK, I think I get it. But if all that is true, what are we doing here? This place is no doubt crawling with Reliance spies." David glanced nervously around the bar as he spoke.

  "Oh, no doubt about that at all. Which means that nobody asks any questions or gives out any information. See, everyone's either afraid that you're a spy, or afraid you'll think they're one. Spies in Alsterase are more or less useless."

  David nodded slowly. "But that still doesn't answer my question. Why are we here?"

  "A little reverse logic. You see, the Reliance knows that Alsterase is the festering place for a rebellion, but then so does anyone with half a brain. So, they don't really expect anyone to try. Oh, there's talk—there's always talk, but nothing ever comes of it. Therefore, this is the perfect place to start a rebellion. A town full of people who all hate the Reliance is the perfect cover, because only an idiot would seriously try anything here. Therefore, a really intelligent person who plays her cards right can march right into a ready-made army. Or at least a unit," she gulped her beer down.

  It took several seconds for all of that to soak in. When it did, David still didn't understand, and he didn't like not understanding. He didn't like her drinking, either. While he sat sipping on his single beer (which was making him giddy already), RJ put away six of the combination drinks. Her speech wasn't slurred; her movements weren't clumsy. In fact, the only indication that she'd had anything to drink at all was that her right arm was flopping around like a fish on a pier.

  He'd noticed the arm thing before. She seemed to have a habit of jerking it at odd moments; it could be a little distracting. Right now, the damned arm thing was enough to drive him crazy. When she started to order another round of drinks, he decided she'd really lost it.

  "Don't you think you've had enough?" David asked quietly.

  RJ laughed and patted him on the back, none too gently.

  "More than, probably. Bartender! Do it again!" she yelled.

  Just as the bartender set her drinks on the table, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and hot breath in her ear.

  "Hey, baby, why don't you and me blow this dump?" The man was huge, six-foot-eight if he was an inch. He was gigantic, humongous, fantastically enormous, and damn near as blond as the woman he was coming on to.

  "Well," RJ drawled slowly, not even looking at the man. "For one thing, I'm not your baby."

  David gulped, and decided to give RJ charm lessons as soon as he got the chance.

  "You could be," the big man said.

  "You could be well-mannered, too. But you're not," RJ said coolly. "Any man can see that I am with this gentleman."

  David looked around for several seconds before he realized that RJ meant him. The smile he gave the big man was sickly at best.

  "Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," the big man said, and added menacingly. "Would you, buddy?"

  David gulped again. RJ had strapped a gun under his arm before he put his jacket on, but he didn't know if he could get to it—or if he should even try. He wasn't ready for this situation; he wasn't exactly sure how he should react, or if he should at all. Goddamn RJ! She was just sitting there, grinning at him, as if waiting for him to do the right thing. Whatever the hell that was.

  "Actually, I do mind," David tried to sound cocky, but somehow, just didn't quite make it. He went for the gun, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Someone—he never knew who—hit him in the head with a beer bottle before he could clear leather. His head spun, his vision blurred, and he hit the floor just seconds after his gun.

  RJ came off the stool, bringing a knee up into the big man's groin. He let out a howl and bent double. RJ brought her cupped hands down on the base of his skull, and he hit the floor shortly after David.

  Some guy took exception to his friend's nose-dive and slung his fist into RJ's gut. It hit the chain-now hidden under her jacket, and he jerked his hand back, screaming. She delivered a well-placed kick to his head, and the second man fell beside his friend.

  David kept trying to get up, but couldn't figure out which way that was. He didn't even know where he was, or what had happened. He didn't feel the blood running down his face. The noise around him registered, but it was just that—noise—no words, no sense.

  RJ turned just in time to deliver a roundhouse kick into the ribs of yet another attacker. When the girl fell to the floor holding her ribs, she yelled out, "Elite! She's a fucking ELITE!"

  "No doubt she remembers the boots," RJ said in the sudden stillness. She announced, "I used to be an Elite. I have been well trained, and I don't have any qualms about killing anyone. So if you're feeling froggy, go ahead and jump."

  With this said, she proceeded to kick every willing ass in the bar. She threw one poor man out the window, and another down the bar. In ten minutes, anyone who had thought it was a good idea to kick this stranger's ass had either rapidly changed his mind and left, or was suffering from some degree of bodily disrepair.

  RJ stood up straight and took a deep, cleansing breath. Then she walked over to the bar where, by some miracle, her drinks still stood, and slung them down. Turning to David, who lay practically comatose on the floor, she picked him up, threw him over her shoulder, and started for the door.

  Pausing in the doorway, RJ turned, "I'm not paying my bill. I didn't have a good time, and I don't think my date had a very good time either. What's more, the atmosphere in this place stinks." Having said her piece, she stomped out the door, slamming it behind her so hard that the rest of the glass fell out of the broken window.

  When they reached the bike, RJ tried to set David's limp body on it. She put her hands in his armpits and sat him up, but as soon as she let go, he almost fell.

  "Oh, come on, David," she said in exasperation. "It's been a long damn day."

  After several unsuccessful tries, she finally got David to hold himself up long enough that she could get on the bike. At which point he promptly collapsed against her back.

  "Can you hang on?" A gurgling sound was her only answer."Oh, I can tell that this is going to be a fun evening." She jammed David's limp body against the sissy bar with her back, and somehow managed to drive to the motel across the street. Not being in the mood for formalities, she drove the bike right inside and turned it off.

  "Hey! Hey!" The fat, greasy, chrome-dome of a manager popped up from his seat behind the desk and waved his black-market nudie magazine in an apparent attempt to shoo them out. Clamping his huge, smelly cigar firmly in his teeth, he screamed, "No pets and no motorbikes in the lobby. That there's the rules. I'm trying to run a classy joint here."

  RJ got off the bike and headed for the desk. David fell unceremoniously to the floor. She opened her jacket so that both chain and plasma blaster were visible.

  "Lady, I don't care if you have a fucking rocket launcher, you can't bring your filthy motorbike in my lobby." Gun-toting customers were nothing new to him. The sight of a plasma blaster, not even a big one, didn't impress him.

  RJ didn't feel like dealing with points of etiquette at the moment. She reached across the counter, grabbed the man by his collar, and lifted him off the floor with one hand. Then she drew her blaster and stuck it up one of his nostrils. Now he was impressed. She didn't even have to mention the fact that she did just happen to have a rocket launcher.

  "Me, this pistol, and my incredibly bad attitude all say that I can park this bike up your ass if I like. Do you have a problem with that?"

  "All right, all right," the manager huffed. RJ set him down slowly and removed the blaster. He straightened his dirty collar and tried to straighten his now bent cigar. "I swear, you girls are all alike. Give you a gun, and you turn
into thugs."

  "I need a room for tonight," RJ said.

  "Just for tonight?"

  "If the room is suitable, we'll be staying longer."

  "Oh! How lucky for us!" The fact that the blaster was back in the holster seemed to restore some of his self-confidence, not to mention sarcasm. "Is your friend dead or alive?"

  "I don't know. Why?" RJ asked, glancing at the pile of David on the floor.

  "Charge more for stiffs. People leave them in the rooms. It makes an awful mess," he said.

  RJ nodded. She could relate to that. So she yelled across the room, "David, are you dead?"

  The pile of David made that gurgling sound again.

  "See, he's not dead."