Hudson sat in a chair, pondering a plan as he sat weaponless in the back, watching rich men circles tables. On those tables atop fine cloth and wooden stands were dozens of pristine tusk. They placed slips of paper into the box beside it with their bids, drinking wine and chatting with casual laughter. Jen and Tom walked the perimeter, looking for exits and options as Hudson remained stone still, never blinking as long as Buchanan was in his view. The look he shot back with a quick glance said everything. One of them wasn’t making it out alive.

  Jen tried to look natural as a woman in strange clothing approached her. The black leather and lace, sunk in eyes and dark eye shadow giving her an oddly out of place vibe even before the blue and chrome skull tattoo was visible on her left arm.

  “Hello there.” She said glaring as Tom stepped closer. “Oh there’s no need for that attitude big boy, I’m just talking to the lady.”

  “That’s my lady you’re mean mugging.” He snarled.

  “Tom, I’m not YOUR lady, you’re just…calm down.” She snipped back.

  “Feisty thing. I respect that. You have to be to survive in this place, especially with people after your limbs or head.” She said, still refusing to smile.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means rumors travel faster than horses do and you stand out in this place more than I do. I’m Clara. You must be the one everyone’s looking for. Nervous mannerisms, nervous bodyguard, not a shred of fine clothes or jewelry on you, poor as a pauper and yet standing at a tusk action in the illustrious Fredric Prima’s house with an invite. Everyone knows, they’re either too afraid to get involved or debating on weather they wanna risk their life over an assumption. I bet that’s a terrible feeling. You wanna make that feeling go away without losing your leg, follow me, leave the bodyguard.”

  “Jen…” tom said gruffly.

  “I’ll stay in view.” She whispered.

  “That’s about 12 feet if you recall.”

  “I’ll stay in view of Hudson and Carol.” She whispered softer.

  “Lotta good that does unarmed and surrounded.” He said as she gave him a look to calm down and followed the blonde trash princess as she pretended to inspect the tables and make an offer.

  “So who are you?”

  “Clara Renich. My husband owns the plastics industry in Timber. You’ve got ol Buchanan riled up something nasty and he’s nasty on a good day. I’m guessing prima invited you here to make some large cash offering for the leg, protection, guns, something to keep you safe if you just give him that shiny prosthetic.”

  “Not far off. You here to make a counter offer? Is this an action for tusk or an action for a leg?” she asked.

  “Officially the first, but unofficially nobody’s sure. My husband Buck can top Prima’s offer.” She finally smirked.

  “You can outbid the guy that owns this place?” Jen asked skeptically, intentionally limping a little to make herself seem more believable.

  “Heavens no. Our money is all in the business, but Prima wants your leg and Buchanan wants it more, both would kill you for it. Buck doesn’t care about he leg, you can keep it. As long as Prima or Buchanan don’t have it, and we have you safe, we have the leg they want and they can’t use it. We’re offering to let you keep it. We don’t want it, we just want them not to have it. So in a way, we want the same thing.” She sighed, placing an offer on a large piece of ivory colored broken tusk.

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “You don’t have a choice. Prima admitted he wants to cut your leg off, and that’s not even getting to what he is hiding or lying about. Could we do much worse?”

  “Why? Why don’t you want it?” Jen asked.

  “Well it would certainly make a nice gun for someone but Buck is not a wild west shooter or a fancy man born into riches through generations of getting anything he wants. He’s thinking bigger. Renich Plastics is about to make a breakthrough in a new polymer that would make tusk obsolete, and who needs one titanium gun when you can have a hundred guns anyway that rival the best in the land? Buchanan has supposedly discovered iron in the mines. That’s a problem for everyone. He rules everything we know with a handful of brass and copper, what can he do with unlimited iron ore?”

  “Make your plastic obsolete?” Jen smirked.

  “Yes. You think it’s just about that? Buchanan is the most dangerous man in Timber with the most men at his side and the most money, but he can’t make guns for an army without the plastic we make, or the gunpowder that the Udo family has, or Prima’s gunsmithing factories. Together we keep him barely under control. But Moses Udo is dead and his old father is looking for answers. Prima is running out of tusks because he has starved and defunded the hunters to extinction and reduced his guns to garbage to make a profit. He claims he has a new kind of weapon that will make everything obsolete and not need tusk or metal, and he’s full of shit. He’s desperate, and so are we. You need to pick a side in this or someone will pick for you, and you either die, lose your leg and freedom, or you side with us and keep your life and limbs. The real value you have is knowledge and leverage. Keeping the other two deprived of that leg fucks up their plans and gives us imaginary bargaining rights. We tell them you’re for sale, of course that’s a lie, and we slow them down long enough to get Renichlyte perfected, and then the game is over if we can take out Buchanan’s mines. You help us, we help you.” Clara said as they made their way to the middle and she locked eyes with a man in a hood and sunglasses, a sleevless shirt showing off his tattoos and arms like some prison Monk from the bad side of town.

  “Is that him?” Jen asked.

  “That my Buck. See we don’t fit in here either. Buchanan and prima were born in this place, generations of rich warmongering assholes. Entitled and ruthless pricks. Buck came here 30 years ago. You’re from the far times, Familiar with Vietnam?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Yea, like from history books.” She shrugged. “Not intimately.”

  “History books. Oh you’re from decades beyond his time and mine. You see, he was a soldier, Private Buck Anderson. Drafted from an engineering chemical factory making medical products to shoot people for a war about nothing. 2 years in what he called the worst hell imaginable, he was glad to wake up in the cold. He said it was like Christmas finally came and never went away. When he arrived 30 years ago there was no real plastic industry. Glues and plywood, but nothing special. He brought plastics to the Renich family and when old man Renich was sick and without kids or anyone he trusted, he just, named Buck his son, and here we are. A harlot from 1893 and a mad scientist soldier from the jungles of war, running an empire. They don’t know that, as far as the other big players know, he’s the son of a wealthy asshole with no experience in warfare or tactics or the far forward, but he’s a century ahead of them, almost ready to take them down, and he just needs a little time, and then Buchanan pulled iron ore out of his ass and you showed up walking on titanium. Small world, big problems. Metal is not the future here, knowledge is. Getting those entitles heirs and their family legacies broken down so the world can move forward…THAT is the future. If Buchanan gets enough iron for an army, we’re fucked. If he gets that leg, he’ll be even stronger. Now Prima may be full of shit on his wild inventions and age of steam sermons, but he has one thing proven. He’s the best long range shooter on this icecube. With a titanium gun, he’ll be able to reach out and hit anyone he wants before they even know it was him. So not only are you fucked both ways, everyone here is. We want to prevent that. We also want your friend Hudson. He’s the big ace up the sleeve nobody realizes.”

  “Hudson? Isn’t he just an old Hunter?” Jen asked.

  “He’s one of the best around because he knows the land and if anyone knows tunnel warfare, it’s Buck. If there’s iron in the mines, we need to bury it. Hudson is one of the few old timers left from when the mines were still open. Before people went broke looking for metal that isn’t there. California Gold Rush in the frozen arctic, and the plot twist, there was never any gold, or iron. So either Buchanan is lying and he got iron from someone else, and we don’t know how, or he found it. You wanna stay alive, have a life and stop being hunted? Help us cripple the mines, cripple Buchanan’s iron source, keep that leg out of Prima’s hands and if this goes well you lose nothing at all. Sure, you gotta take some risk like all of us, rebel, fight back, fuck the lords and kings that rule this frozen hell, so what? You think hiding or trusting Prima is less risky? Ask Prima how his father died? Ask him what he did to his first wife? He’s not the gentleman he pretends to be and he won’t take that leg gently and free you. Buchanan is ten times worse. He’ll dissect you looking for any other shred of metal anywhere else, until there’s nothing left bigger than a fingernail clipping and he’ll keep you alive for as much as he can because he just loves hearing women scream. So think it over. This auction is for you. Someone is going to win that auction, unless you make a deal with buck, and join this cause. Just say the word, swear it, commit to a side, and we’ll take this place to the ground to get you out in one piece.” He winked.

  Hudson sighed and pretended to look out the window, still eyeing Buchanan like a hawk. Jen stood cross armed as Carol and tom stood behind her, looking like they hated the plan.

  “Shit.” Hudson said, packing some dip to make up for the no smoking policy. “Prima’s a dick, that ain’t no lie. I never met or heard of Buck Renich. Just heard the old man died and his son took over. That’s it. He could be fulla shit. Hard to imagine anyone more fulla shit than Prima, and Buchanan’s fulla pure damn salivatin evil. Not like we got a plan getting out anyway.”

  “Is he right?” Jen asked. “Do you know the mines?”

  “Know is a strong word, My granddaddy worked em, my dad took me there as a kid. I didn’t exactly map the place. I know the land not the mines, I know where to get into them, not much under that. If he asks, I know a hell of a lot more though. Just act like I practically built them myself till we can figure out a better plan. What exactly does that mean…take the place to the ground?” he asked.

  “She didn’t exactly detail it. They run a plastics and chemical industry, they may have the place bomb-rigged or something. They guy knows Vietnam warfare, God knows what traps he’s got set up. I don’t think we have a choice. She seemed pretty serious about this plan, so if we refuse, they may just change our deal and un-refuse it. You don’t tell a Vietnam vet who’s rigged a place for war, that you don’t wanna help his plan and he should just cancel. All 3 of them have plans already and us negotiating isn’t in that plan. Hudson, who do you trust more…a man you don’t know, or Fredric prima?” Jen asked. He huffed in exhaustion and shook his head.

  “Boy that’s one hell of a question. I’m tryin to think of the worst possible motives he could have that would be higher risk than prima’s offer and the list is real damn scant. Turning is in to Buchanan is pretty much the one thing I can think of, so if he’s just a collector for him, we’d be better with Prima. Anyone on any other team kinda has to be less a dick than the others. So he just wants your word and our compliance and we get out of here?” he asked. Jen shrugged.

  “That was my impression. I don’t know if they can back it up or not but that was the impression.”

  “Well here I was excited about dying today with my guns in hand but here I got no guns and an offer to die tomorrow. Carol…it’s your leg they’re after.”

  “Jen said they didn’t want the leg.” Carol huffed.

  “Oh bullshit, they want the leg, they’re just blowin smoke. That leg is worth a fortune in trade, and any weapon they can dream up, they want the damn leg. But do you wanna lose it to prima or this joker? Prima’s offering anesthesia and healthcare, could also just be lyin too, this guy’s just outright lyin about that. We still support your decision to fight for it, we just gotta know who you wanna die fightin for it. Mister fancy ass rich boy who sells guns that blow up to men hunting for his money because we’re more replaceable than the tusk we bring in, or Mister Vietnam War who we know is gonna turn and want that leg the moment we get out…IF he can get us out. Darlin this is your call. I’m just waitin for orders on witch rich prick to shoot at. I kinda like the guy offerin to provide guns. Kinda hard to do shit with no guns. I aint never thrown a tusk at a man before, don’t know if I’m any good at it yet.” He smirked. Tom smiled to himself.

  “I got an idea.” He chuckled. “Ain’t a good one but it’s an idea.” Tom added.

  “Boy you better have something good rattlin round that thick head of yours.” Hudson said.

  “Prima says he wants carol alive for her future smarts…anyone wanna test that and see if he’s full of shit?”

  “Not really.” Carol asked.

  “Hudson’s a wild card, he knows Prima plans to kill him cuz he ain’t no use to him. Might make a man do something plumb crazy like take a hostage at knifepoint, turn on his friends to save his old ass. That table in the middle has a bunch of tusk cutlery Think you could get one and stab the guy watchin the table before he makes a move and get that to carol’s neck before prima draws his pistol?” Tom asked.

  “Hope so.” Hudson grinned.

  “Because I’ll be right in the way of his shot and drawin a blade on you when you do. You remember when we first met and one of us almost died finding shit out about strangers?”

  “Yes I do.” He nodded.

  “Just go back to that. I take real unkindly to anyone trying to hurt these ladies, even you Hud. I’m gonna be convincin as hell.”

  “You best be, boy. You get me shot over bad actin, I’mma be real pissed and remember that. So that’s the plan?” Hostage distraction.

  “No.” Carol sighed. “That’s plan B. Plan A should be Vietnam guy. I already trust my life with some stranger who got drafted into war over two rich overlords born into royal families willing to dismember for a new gun. If he tries anything weird, we go with the hostage plan.