Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 32

The compost lorry clattered through the early morning streets of Nike like a smelly avalanche, causing many a sleeping citizen to duck deeper under their covers in self-defense.

From his position in the lorry's bed, Gideon wished he could do the same.

As it was, he was holding onto the side of the vehicle with his right hand, and clamping his left against the plasma burn over his ribs, all while trying not to inhale the varying degrees of rot infusing the air around him.

Every so often, the lorry would make a turn, and a gust of fresh air would slap him in the face with invigorating clarity, but then the buildings would rise on either side, and the air would thicken with decay, and he would again commence breathing through his clenched teeth.

He figured they'd passed through no fewer than three of Nike's wedge-shaped districts when a broken cobble in the road sent the entire lorry jumping. Several unidentifiable former foodstuffs landed atop Gideon, leaving him with little hope that he could avoid sepsis.

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" he yelled forward at the same time the vehicle came to a jerking halt, sending an aged cantaloupe (and very nearly Gideon) splatting to the cobbles.

Unused steam vented from the chimney at the top of the cab, the right-hand door popped open, and a dark-haired midget came out. "You say something?" Mia asked, grinning up at the muck-covered Gideon. "You look like you could use another bath."

"I asked if you could drive—never mind." He shook his head and started to climb out, only to be knocked back into the rubbish by a giddily swooping Elvis, who'd trailed the vehicle the entire way. "Ouch," Gideon said, then rubbed cheeks with the draco, who'd come to rest atop a mound of rotting greens to hiss his concern at his person.

"He was worried," Mia said.

"So was I." Gideon offered the draco one more gentle stroke before gritting his teeth and hauling himself out of the muck. "So should you be," he added, landing next to her and tapping his right shoulder, where Elvis immediately came to rest, talons lightly pricking through the fabric of Gideon's shirt. "The cops won't be long tracking down a stolen compost lorry."

"I know, that's why I drove it here," she said, pointing to her right, and Gideon looked in that direction.

In the monochrome of Nike's misty dawn, he could barely make out what he was seeing.

What first came to mind were the blocks his sergeant's daughter had used to play with. She'd build these monstrous structures, and then knock them over, laughing like a hyena as they went tumbling.

The buildings in front of him reminded him very much of those blocks... after the fall.

"Where is here?" he asked, following her as she headed into what had to be a condemned neighborhood.

"Lower Cadbury, or what's left of it, after the forty-seven bombings. Best get moving," she prompted as he seemed hesitant. "It's perfectly safe, and the coppers won't go in past the first two blocks."

"Because they don't have a death wish."

"The suns are never bright enough for you." She sighed.

At that Gideon had to laugh, then he hissed.

"Oy!" She poked at his side, apparently only just noticing what was going on under all the decayed vegetables. "You're hurt!"

"Ow," he said pointedly, and she dropped the poking finger. "One of the officers had a jumpy trigger finger."

"The coppers put that beating on you, as well?"

"No. Look, it's not so bad, if I can get clean."

"Not sure there's enough water in the Avon for that," Mia said doubtfully, but started to lead the way.