Bounty Hunter

Chapter 5

The dust storm gave way to a hot, sunny day. Joe had spent the first hour finding his tools, which had tumbled out when Monster rolled. In daylight, he could see that his attackers had rammed him off the road at the perfect spot, which spoke to intentionality: a tight outside curve with a nearly straight drop-off. The ravine was more of a canyon, which made sense since this was the area once known as the Badlands. He wasn't sure why the area wasn't called that anymore, though he figured it was because every place he'd ever been was just as bad these days.

"It sure is a cooker today. Doesn't it get hot wearing that armor and helmet all day?" Sikes asked.

"Nope. Suits have temperature regulators," Joe replied as he tightened a bolt under the engine case.

"Temp regulators, really? Would you happen to have an extra suit laying around? If so, I sure could use one. It's a cooker out here today."

"The only suit you'll be getting is one in jailbird red," Joe stated flatly.

"Red's never been my color. Too many freckles. Do you really think they'll throw me in prison for stealing a few bucks?"

"Yep."

"It's not fair, you know. Throwing people in prison after forcing them to steal to get by," Sikes wheedled.

"No one forced you to rob a market," Joe said without pausing from his work.

"Well, maybe not literally, but they don't give us regular folks many options. Most of the jobs out there don't pay enough to cover the bills. That kitchen where I was working only covered my room, and I had to work ten hours a day for that. How's a guy supposed to eat?"

"You still have fourteen hours in a day to do something about that," Joe replied.

"But I get tired easily. I have this adrenal thing."

Sikes rambled, and Joe continued to repair Monster.

"What do you think?"

Joe realized Sikes had asked him a question and raised his head. "About what?"

"I said that I wonder why that store owner bought a ticket for my arrest when I hear of people stealing all the time without getting caught."

"Easy. You robbed a store owned by a murc. They have both the money and pride to pay for bounty tickets. Next time, rob a place not under MRC ownership."

"Oh. Good idea," Sikes said. He thought for a moment before continuing. "I've been wondering, do you really go by Havoc, or do you go by a real name, like George or something?"

Joe grimaced. "George?"

Sikes shrugged. "Or something."

"I'm Havoc."

"Why are you called Havoc? Is there a story behind the name or something?"

"Or something," Joe said.

Sikes shrugged. "Fine. I can tell you don't want to talk about it. No problem. But you can call me Eddy. That's what my friends call me. Well, I don't really have any friends right now, but I've had them before. A couple of them."

"Sikes, shut up," Joe said.

There were only two rules for being a bounty hunter. One, get paid, and two, never make it personal. Joe had broken the second rule once during his first month on the job, right before he bought his suit. He'd taken off the restraints on his bounty—an exceptionally attractive bounty—and she stabbed him in the back (literally). He still had the scar just below his right shoulder blade. If the knife hadn't hit a rib, he wouldn't be sweating under his cutter today.