Reaper's Legacy: Book Two (Toxic City)(43)

“Thank you,” Jack said, standing to welcome Breezer. He extended his hand, and Breezer looked surprised. He took Jack's hand and shook.

“I wasn't expecting to see him,” he said, inclining his head towards where Reaper was standing in front of an old clothing shop. The window was shattered, naked mannequins splayed across the floor and pavement like moss-covered corpses.

“It bugs him that he's never been able to find Camp H,” Jack said.

“It would. He's Superior.” Breezer seemed nervous, but also retained some of the qualities that seemed to have made him de facto leader of this small group of Irregulars. He exuded strength and confidence, and Jack knew he would be calm under pressure. “So now what?”

“Nine of us here together, at least,” Jack said. “You think…?”

“I'm pretty sure she'll see nine, especially out in the open,” Breezer said.

“Hope so.”

“Your plan depends on that?”

“Yeah.”

Breezer nodded, smiled. “Sounds pretty uncertain to me.”

“Yeah,” Jack said again, and he smiled back. “That's me all over.”

Breezer's smile seemed heartfelt and honest, and Jack began to hope he had made a friend. But he knows about Nomad's touch, he thought. He sees my strengths, knows some of them…how can I take anything for granted?

He turned away, troubled, and walked towards Reaper.

“Soon,” he said as he approached the thing his father had become.

“I hope so,” Reaper said.

“Mum always used to like this chain,” Jack said, pointing at the shop's name.

Reaper only stared at him, giving nothing away. Then he said, “So, I should go to meet your Irregular friends, don't you think?”

“Just don't kill them all,” Jack said coldly.

“What makes you think I would?” Reaper asked.

“You're so good at it.”

They didn't have to wait very long.

Jack, Sparky, and Jenna had returned to their table and stood around it, talking in subdued whispers. Reaper and Breezer had faced each other, exchanged a few words, and then parted again. Reaper went back to strolling around the street, sometimes apparently studying his surroundings, at other times engrossed in thought. He seemed unable to stay still for very long. Breezer and the people with him sat along the kerb, two of them smoking, the others passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth. And it was from one of these that the warning came.

“We're being watched,” the woman said, standing and squeezing her eyes so tightly closed that her face became a mask of wrinkles.

“Yes,” Reaper said.

“No. I don't mean your shadow man. I mean by someone from afar.”

“The girl the Choppers have working for them?” Jenna asked.

“Maybe,” Jack said. “But…I think I hear something.”

One by one, they all looked up. A drone buzzed so high up that its sound was a whisper, its shape and form little more than a flash of reflected sunlight.

“Checking us out,” Sparky said, giving the thing the finger.

“And when they see who's here, the Choppers won't be far behind.”

“Reaper,” Jenna said.

“And Jack,” Sparky said. “Mate, no risks, huh? That Miller bastard, he was looking at you like he wanted to chop you up.”

“Miller won't be chopping anyone else up,” Reaper said. He'd drifted closer to them, and now he stood almost as if he was part of the group.

“So what now?” Breezer asked.

“Now we wait,” Reaper said. He cocked his head, smiled. “But not for long.”

They came four minutes later. Not the royal blue Land Rovers that Jack had seen before, but smaller, faster shapes moving along the streets like errant shadows. They were almost completely silent but for the whish! of disturbed air, and the occasional crackling of wheels crunching over grit or litter. He saw six initially, but as he and the others crouched down ready to spring aside, he realised that there were more.

They've sent the whole Chopper army against us! Jack thought, and at that moment the first motorcycle flipped into the air, shed its rider, and smashed into the ground. It bounced and skittered across tarmac and the concrete pavement, slamming into a bank's fa?ade and exploding in a wash of blazing fuel. The sudden sound was shocking, and it spurred everyone into action.

“Into the café!” Jenna shouted, grasping Sparky's hand and waiting for Jack.

Guns fired, bullets ripped along a shop's fa?ade, glass shattered, someone screamed.

Reaper held Jack's arm, and when Jack looked at him the man was smiling. “No need to run,” Reaper said.

And he was right. Jack had always counted that Reaper would not be coming on his own, but for the past few minutes he had been worrying that his father was not going to hold up his side of the plan. Shade was there, hiding somewhere out of sight. But Jack had seen no one else from Reaper's retinue.

With the Choppers attacking, they made themselves known.

Several motorcycle wheels exploded into flames and burst, scattering blazing rubber across the street and spilling riders. The bikes flipped over the kerb or collided in the road, and for a few seconds the scene was one of chaotic, deadly movement. Another bike was lifted from the ground and held motionless in mid-air, its rear wheel still spinning frantically, its rider struggling to unsling a machine gun from his shoulder.