Rigel looked at Barrow for confirmation, and Barrow nodded grimly. Those two shots had been warnings, and they were probably surrounded. They would not be escaping this time. Barrow dropped his own gun and threw it out of reach. He saw Rigel doing the same, and then they both stood up slowly. From somewhere to the left, muffled yet still audible, came Zoe’s shouts. Barrow hoped they would not mix her up in this and that they were merely holding her back.
“That’s it. Now turn around and stay by the car,” the same voice said.
There was nothing to do except obey. Barrow turned along with Rigel and saw two men with guns trained on them. They had somehow appeared from behind them, probably sneaking up when the metal gates to the shop had closed so loudly. One of the men was a stranger, but the one who had been talking was an old acquaintance. He was someone Barrow had hoped to never see again, his face now contorted in a mixture of gleeful anticipation and hatred that Barrow knew was completely justified.
“Hello, Matthew,” Barrow said, careful to keep his own voice neutral. “Long time no see.”
Matthew Young stopped on the floor and walked one step closer. He was clutching a gun in both his hands, and it was actually shaking a little bit from how angry he was. Barrow wondered how long he would wait until shooting him dead, or if he had other plans on how to take his revenge. He also saw Jared walking into view with a weapon in his hand. Barrow addressed him first.
“How much did he pay you, Jared?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Barrow,” Jared told him. “You may have gone out into the city and thought you had disappeared for good, but people in the slums have long memories. I knew there would be a price on your head as soon as Streaker came telling me you were back. My place was perfect. I even had a working off-roader ready to go, just to convince you to get in here without being too suspicious.”
“What is going on in here?” Rigel asked, managing to look affronted. “What business do you have with my bodyguard?”
Jared and the third man exchanged a smirk. Then Jared nodded toward Matthew Young. “Why don’t you ask him, rich guy?”
But Matthew ignored the exchange, focused only on Barrow.
“You ran away for long enough, Barrow,” he said. “You may have escaped your punishment, but a murderer is always a murderer. And now I finally got you.”
There was a long silence only broken by the muffled shouts coming from the office where Zoe was being held. The sounds ceased abruptly after a few seconds, though, and Barrow wondered whether Zoe was all right. There was nothing he could do, however. He was trapped, and he knew it.
“Your brother had it coming, Matthew,” Barrow said, never taking his eyes off the gun the other man was holding. “He liked hurting people. Women, in particular. Women who were trapped with him in close quarters for weeks on end aboard an airship.”
“You’re a fucking liar. He flew hundreds of trips, never once had a complaint.”
“You ever talked to Jill?” Barrow asked him.
“That lying bitch was in league with you to discredit him. Made everything up, tried to make you look like some sort of a hero…. I know everything, Barrow. At first they tried to play off Jonathan’s death as a disappearance. Every damn member of the crew of the
Titania
was in on it, saying they didn’t know what happened, getting the cops off the case. But then people kept asking questions, and Jill came forward with her stupid attempted-rape story, how
you
had to kill my brother to save her. She stuck to it, too, despite…. What did you do to make her cover for you so well, huh? Sleep with her? Fuck her over my brother’s corpse?”
Barrow cracked a grin despite the situation. “That’s not really my style.”
Matthew just plowed along with his monologue. “You know who you hurt the most, Barrow? His family. I bet you didn’t even think about that when you were bashing his head in. Didn’t think about how he had two little girls and a wife to support back home. They were babies when you did it, didn’t understand that their daddy was never, ever coming home. Now they’re old enough to ask about him, and what can Claire tell them? Huh? You tell me!
“I’ve had to take care of them ever since then. The captain of the
Titania
, that sonofabitch Rueda, didn’t even pay for the funeral. I’ve barely been able to keep the girls away from the clutches of the Corporation every year, but, of course, you don’t care for any of that. Why should you? You’re just a fucking murderer who ran away rather than face the consequences of his actions. But now I got you. And I’m not gonna kill you right away, Barrow. I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Let Rigel go,” Barrow said evenly. “And Zoe. They’re not part of this.”
Matthew’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t think so, Barrow. Haven’t you been watching the news? That man there is Aaron fucking Blake, the most wanted man in the entire city. Jared and me, we worked out an agreement. We’re going to turn him in and divide the reward. We’re even going to throw something in for Streaker for his troubles. After all, he did find you. Streaker! Oswald! Come on out!”
The door to the office opened, and both men came out. Oswald was pushing Zoe before him. They had stuffed a rag in her mouth to keep her from shouting, and Oswald was holding both her hands behind her back. She shot Barrow a look that was part terror, part defiance, and she kept struggling against Oswald’s grip. He tightened it in response, making her cry out in pain.
“Leave her alone!” Rigel yelled, making as if to approach Zoe. The man standing next to Matthew fired his gun, a warning shot mere centimeters from Rigel’s feet.
“Don’t move, rich boy,” he said. “The TV didn’t say whether they wanted you alive or dead.”
Rigel stopped, glared at the man, and then looked at Barrow as if for guidance, but Barrow had no idea what they were going to do. It had been stupid to come here, stupid not to recognize that every person with a TV would know who Rigel was and what they said he had done, even out here in the slums. No wonder Streaker had been so eager back in the Night Market to make sure they stayed put in the hotel until he could find the buyer who would pay the most for them. They had given him days to set this up.
Matthew gestured with his gun. “Enough talking. Barrow, Mr. Blake, get in the off-roader. Quickly. Jared, you get to keep the girl.”
Jared grinned that creepy smile and approached the place where Oswald and Streaker were standing. He grabbed Zoe roughly, and Barrow balled his fists in anger.
“And my cut of the reward for Blake,” Jared said.
“Of course,” Matthew answered. “I’ll send it with Streaker when we get it.”
“Good deal.”
Barrow noticed that Oswald and Streaker were looking around from Jared to Matthew eagerly, as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t bring themselves to do it. Then Streaker jumped slightly, unnoticed by any of the others. He took a mobile out of his pocket, exchanged a look with Oswald, and both of them began to edge backward slowly. They exchanged a slightly alarmed look, but Barrow wasn’t sure what it meant.
“Move!” Matthew ordered, approaching the vehicle. Rigel obeyed reluctantly, followed by Barrow. They climbed onto the back of the off-roader followed closely by Matthew’s gunman.
“Don’t worry, Barrow,” the gunman said as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his gun still trained on them. He started the car one-handed with a cocky grin. “I have a safe house nearby where nobody is going to hear you scream. And when Matthew is done with you—”
But at that point Barrow saw both Oswald and Streaker dive out of the way, throwing themselves to the ground.
And then the snipers opened fire.
The gunman’s head exploded in a shower of sickeningly warm blood and bits of bone. Barrow didn’t have time to react. He heard Zoe screaming, more gunfire, and suddenly the off-roader jerked forward hard, throwing both Rigel and him back in their seats. The vehicle accelerated with a screeching of tires and launched itself directly toward the heavy metal gates barring the way out. Somebody shouted. Then the car crashed.
They hadn’t been going very fast, so the impact did nothing but throw Barrow forward onto the back of the driver’s seat. The car stopped accelerating. Barrow recovered quickly, making himself small to present less of a target to whoever was shooting.
“What’s happening?” Rigel shouted, imitating him.
“Stay down!” Barrow ordered.
The gun was in the front. Barrow risked getting up, hunched over and moving as fast as he could. He reached over the seat and yanked the gun out of the dead man’s hand. He caught a glimpse of the corpse’s leg twitching, slightly to the right of the accelerator pedal.
A man appeared on the side of the vehicle pointing a gun at them. He was dressed all in black, and Barrow had seen him before.
“The CradleCorp assassins!” Rigel yelled.
Barrow spun around, cocked the gun, and fired. It caught the man in the middle of the chest, but the assassin must have been wearing some kind of body armor because he merely stumbled backward. Barrow was aiming for a headshot when a loud explosion on the other side of the vehicle forced him to duck. When he recovered, the assassin was gone.
Barrow felt a rush of sudden heat and turned around, banging his knee in the cramped space of the car. His eyes widened when he saw the explosion had been an incendiary bomb. Flames were licking the side of the off-roader, feeding off several knocked-over crates full of oily car parts.
“We got to get out of here!” he yelled, and Rigel nodded, speechless.
Barrow was closest to the fire-free side, and he half jumped, half tumbled out of the car. He hit the concrete hard, banging the same knee again and sending sparks of pain shooting up his leg. He rolled out of the way immediately, ignoring it. He took shelter behind the side of the car, gun in hand, and poked his head out.
It was madness. He saw at least two snipers overhead, rifles pointing and shooting at anything that moved through broken windows in the upper level of the repair shop. The closest one had long dark hair, and Barrow recognized her right away. It was Diana Herrera, the woman who had been chasing Rigel through half of Aurora. There was a third shooter hidden behind a stack of crates piled against the wall on the far right, the man Barrow had shot unsuccessfully. Opposite him, barricaded behind more crates, Jared and Matthew were shooting back at the snipers even as they were forced to retreat by the advance of the fire from the bomb. Barrow looked underneath the off-roader and saw Oswald’s body crumpled next to where the bomb had hit. One of his legs was on fire, and he wasn’t moving. Zoe and Streaker were nowhere to be seen.
He took the entire scene in immediately and took cover again behind the off-roader. He felt Rigel bump next to him, breathing heavily but staying put.
“They’re here for you,” Barrow told him in a low whisper, unnecessary because everybody knew where they were. “Tanner must want you really badly. They won’t shoot you if you stay where you are.”
He made as if to move away from cover, but Rigel grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
Barrow yanked his arm away. “I have to get Zoe. It’s my fault she’s in here.”
“Tell me what to do. I can help you.”
“Stay where you are.”
“But—”
Barrow shoved him roughly out of the way.
“Stay safe, Rigel. Okay?”
He had no time to lose. He waited for a lull in the gunfire and then dashed straight in the direction where the first CradleCorp assassin was hiding while simultaneously getting as far away from the flames as he could. The assassin must have seen him coming, but he was forced to stay in his position by a barrage of gunfire coming from the barricade where Jared and Matthew were hiding. Even so, he wheeled about and brought his gun to bear on Barrow.
Too late. Barrow aimed and fired, catching the man in his unprotected right leg. The shot messed up his aim, and he cried out in pain—Barrow launched himself at him, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled briefly, both of them fueled by adrenaline, and it only ended when Barrow drove his knee right into the place where the bullet had hit the other man. His resistance immediately slackened enough for Barrow to grab the man’s head with both his hands and slam it down on the concrete floor. Then he did it again, harder, and this time there was a crack. The assassin’s body went limp. Barrow grabbed his gun.
A funny sound. Barrow looked up just in time to dodge a small cylinder one of the snipers up on top had tossed his way. He shot out of cover, barreling down one of the narrow pathways that lined the back of the repair shop and had barely taken five steps when there was another explosion behind him and a sudden burst of light. And more flames.
His ears popped, and he was deaf for an instant. Somebody was shooting at him, and Barrow did not know if it was the CradleCorp killers or Matthew trying to get him before he could escape. He dodged, crouching, weaving his way around the maze of car parts and keeping his head as low as possible. He shot behind him once, but it was immediately answered by one of the snipers shooting so close to him that a metal plate next to Barrow’s head jumped up under the impact, clattering down to the floor with a neat bullet hole in it.
Barrow stopped. The shot had been too perfect. If he hadn’t been hit, then it meant CradleCorp wanted him alive just like they wanted Rigel. He did not know whether that made him feel better or worse.
He dashed around the corner of a pile of cabinets holding various spare parts and kept going, hoping to find better cover.
And ran into Streaker.
“Don’t shoot!” he screamed hysterically at the sight of Barrow. “For the love of God, don’t shoot me!”
Streaker stumbled backward, hands spread out before him. He hit the wall behind him and banged his head on a shelf. Hiding next to him was—
“Stevie!” Zoe yelled. “You’re okay!”
Barrow nodded and crouched next to the pair. He gave one of his guns to Zoe. “Here. Use it on him if he tries anything.”
Zoe grabbed it after a small hesitation and trained it on Streaker.
“I’m on your side!” Streaker protested. Another, smaller explosion made him squeal. “The lady saved my life! She pulled me here—”