Mercenary at heart

Good news

753. It was spring. The buds on the trees in Ounvilshen began to blossom and flowers woke up from their winter hibernation. The town was filled with the wonderful colours and smells of blossoming plants. April was approaching, which Michael had always looked forward to. It was his birthday that month, and every year he and his family would go out and have fun. George had arranged his schedule so that he wouldn't take bookings at this time, or at least not participate in them, and Mariana would take a couple of days off. There was no such thing as a holiday. The cities had no social security or pension fund. Employers refused to pay for days off, but with advance notice they would at least provide them.

The Silvers lived in the industrial area of the city, which was mostly machine shops and private sectors made up of small one- and two-storey simple houses. Some of which had broken tiles or other minor damage. The location was not chosen at random, but primarily for George's business orientation. In addition, property prices were many times lower than in any bedroom community in Ounvilshen.

Compared to other buildings, the Silver house looked tidy and had a fairly large area. It had two floors with a total usable area of about 110 square metres. In the backyard was a small garden, which was tended by Mariana. Next to the house stood two garages, one of which was mostly used as a storage room. It held tools and boxes of old junk. The other was for George's rented vehicles, which he temporarily left outside before his next assignment.

An ordinary evening in a warm, family atmosphere. Mariana scurried back and forth, serving the food and clearing away the excess from the table. George and Michael sat opposite each other, as befitted the heads of the family, and talked. From time to time Mum also kept the conversation going. The dialogue was about everyday life: about Michael's success at school, about his father's recent orders, about his mother's clients and about the upcoming practice of the boy.

– I have a surprise for you. I think you'll like it. – George turned to his son intrigued, putting a solid piece of chicken fillet in his mouth. Mariana came quickly to the table, dropping everything she was doing. She took her seat, resting her face on both palms and looking at her husband.

– We're all listening to you very carefully, darling! – Mariana said animatedly, watching Michael's father chewing the chicken she had prepared.

– Anyway, I'm not going to wait and I'll tell you straight. Soon you'll be fifteen years old. And I think you've had enough of polishing your training prototypes. It's time to get down to business! I've arranged with the headmaster of your school that this year you'll be interning at our firm's headquarters under my close supervision. In short, from tomorrow we'll work together and I'll take you on assignments. – George began his short monologue, but did not have time to finish it, because Mariana jumped off the chair and began to hug him tightly and kissed him on the cheeks and in the eyes.

– Mariana exclaimed during her passionate outburst.

– Mana, Michael's watching! Stop it…,’ George said quietly and embarrassed.

– It's okay, Dad! It's really cool! Let me give you a hug too! – said the son, getting up from the table and walking over to his father. Then the child hugged him tightly and pressed against his shoulder.

– That's it. That's enough, that's enough. We're having a party,’ George laughed, hugging the family back.

– Take your seats, we really have a lot to discuss. – Silver Sr. said seriously. Mariana and Michael obeyed him and returned to their seats, continuing to listen carefully to the information.

– So, as you realise, this is a big step towards your bright future, so you need to take it as seriously and responsibly as possible. Even though we're family, I'm going to treat you the same way I treat the rest of the staff. Perhaps even more demanding. But it's all for your own good. Once you get a job or start your own business – life will not give you any favours. On the way will constantly arise problems and turmoil, which must be solved independently on the basis of experience and knowledge. It is not enough just to turn the steering wheel and press the accelerator. Over time, you will realise that the transport business is a much more complex process than it seems at first glance. You don't have much experience in driving yet, but I think you should be able to handle this baby. Come on! – George finished his monologue, and everyone headed for the exit of the house.

There was another car in the parking lot next to my father's truck, an old generation yellow passenger car with gray decorative stripes on the sides. The seats were covered with dark brown leather covers, and the interior trim was made of high-quality wood material. On the roof, above the front seats, there was a rectangular glass sunroof with an opening mechanism.

– What do you think? Do you like it? – George said proudly with a smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

– Am I going to drive it? By yourself? – Michael answered the question with a surprised question.

George: “We'll take turns. 50-50. Half the road you drive, the other half I drive.”

Michael: “A-F-I-GET! How long are we going to be traveling for?”

George: “About 600 kilometers. We have to deliver it to a powerful businessman in New Hampshire. It's his car. It broke down and he left it here for repairs. It's a legend, even if it is a bit old! We'll take the truck back. I've already caught the next order. We'll have to deliver it to Lockfood City. We'll hitch a ride home from there. But that's not far from here. Think of it as your first little real adventure.”

Michael moved closer to the car to get a closer look at it, “Dad, thank you so much! I won't let you down! And Fred, will he be guarding us?”

George: “There's no need for that. We'll manage on our own. And remember, this is just the beginning of your journey. It's only going to get more interesting from here. All right, let's go get some rest. We have a long road ahead of us tomorrow.”

He put his arm around Mariana's waist. His parents went slowly into the house, talking about the day ahead, and Michael stayed near the car for a while, imagining in his head how he would drive it very soon.

“Six-speed manual transmission, all-wheel drive, interactive dashboard, top speed can reach 360 km/h. It's a beast of a car! I can't even believe that tomorrow I will drive it!” – Michael thought to himself, stroking the car on the roof. He spent about thirty minutes near the car, looking at it from all sides, and then went to his room to rest. His head was full of thoughts about the day ahead.

The first field practice

The morning began with an alarm clock. He had to wake up early, because the car had to be delivered only up to a certain time, and it took about six, seven hours to get there. Even taking into account the capabilities of the car, George was an advocate of quiet driving and preferred to perform delivery to the destination extremely carefully, without leaving any visible damage on the object. Therefore, Michael did not have to count on high speed. On the highway – a maximum of 120 km / h, on the highway – 90, within the city – 50. Mariana fed the family with scrambled eggs and bacon and gave them some sandwiches for the road, putting them in plastic containers.

George: “Don't forget to bring your learner's card with you so the police won't have any unnecessary questions: why are you at 14 already driving a car?”

The point is that depending on the chosen direction, the child was granted certain privileges related to education. For example, Michael studied at a transportation school, so he had the right to drive cars and some trucks under the supervision of an adult from the age of 14. But this was possible only if he had a student card, confirming that he was a student of a specialized school. Others had to wait until they were 18 years old to complete a six-month course in driving a passenger car.

– I already did. – Michael answered, waving his small black square wallet. All three of them went outside. Mariana wished them a good trip and stayed on the doorstep, waving goodbye every now and then. Michael joyfully headed for the driver's door of the car.

– Sit in the passenger seat. First I'll take control of the car, to see what this little girl is capable of. We'll switch on the road, don't worry. – George stopped him, slightly holding his son's hand. Michael wasn't upset. He was happy just to sit in the cabin of such a car. George started the car and drove off in the desired direction.

Michael took out of his bag a small rectangular device that displayed a map and route. It had a small number of buttons on the end and on the sides. The boy knew how to use this device, since he had already been trained on it. The device was called “Logist” and was one of the key tools for drivers. In addition to the navigator function, which was lined up with the Logistician, which tracked in real time the movement of the target, the device acted as an “SOS” depending on the command, sending a distress signal along with the current location to the nearest workshops, ambulance or police patrols.

George had an earpiece with a built-in microphone attached to his ear, connected wirelessly to both the Logiste and the phone. The driver could use it to talk to customers and his staff. Occasionally, Mariana would call the same way, to see how her husband was doing at work. The route was routed through several villages and towns with bronze and silver status. The terminus was New Hampshire. It was a platinum status town. Michael had never been to towns with status higher than silver, so this was quite the journey for him. Not only would he get to see new small towns, but he would also get to visit a giant metropolis.

Villages and towns were connected by roads with nothing living around them. Either desert or impassable thickets of bushes and trees. The reason for this was clear – ownerless territory that no one had ever taken care of. According to such rules, the borders of settlements were divided, leaving neutral, ownerless territories between them. It was in these ownerless areas that the outcasts, unwanted and despised by society, existed. Some of them banded together to try to survive, occasionally raiding passing traffic or attempting to storm towns. True, they usually didn't pose much of a threat. After all, before they were driven out of town, all their possessions were taken from them. So they didn't have any weapons. The most they could attack with was fists, stones, or sticks they had gotten on the road. And considering the fact that cargo and transportation were most often guarded by well-armed mercenaries or private guards, the outcasts had no chance of success. It was more like certain death.

George drove up to the checkpoint at the exit from Ounvilshen and joined the smallest queue. Since no documents had to be stamped, but only personal cards scanned by a special bar code, the line moved quickly enough. Only heavy trucks were subjected to special inspection for the presence of prohibited goods on board, but a separate lane was allocated for them so as not to impede the movement of other traffic.

Finally it was Michael and George's turn. They stopped in front of the inspector's window. It was on the right side of the car. In front of the checkpoint was a barrier and a license plate scanner built into it, which recorded the license plate number, and a computer program extracted all the other data on the car and its owner. In the booth sat a city policeman with a laptop computer at his desk. He was dressed in a long-sleeved service uniform in the color of the city's yellow and purple flag. Underneath his police uniform was a bulletproof vest in the form of thermal underwear. Such body armor was very lightweight and was considered the most common protection for city police officers because it covered most of the body.

Policeman: “Where are you going?”

George: “Making a delivery to a customer.”

Policeman: “What kind of goods?”

George: “It's an auto.”

The policeman looked out of the window and looked at the car, formally inspecting the car.

Policeman: “Your papers.”

Michael held out his personal cards to him. The police officer scanned them, then handed them back to the boy.

Policeman: “You can go now.”

George: “Thank you officer, have a good day.”

The barrier turned green and went up. The path was open and the car moved on, following the designated route. After a while, having traveled about 150 km, the transporters stopped in a large village at the gas station through which their route passed. Both got out of the car while the gas station attendant filled the tank with fuel.

– Well, are you ready? – George put his hand on Michael's shoulder.

Michael: “Sure!”

George: “Then get behind the wheel. You drive from here. Just don't drive too fast! You know my rules.”

Michael nodded, then opened the door and got into the driver's seat. George settled into the front passenger seat and leaned back, taking the Logiste in his hands.

George: “All right, let's go, no need to linger at the transfer points. We're wasting time. After the parking lot, turn immediately to the right. Gerri has changed the route as there will be a traffic jam ahead. Probably some kind of accident.”

Michael adjusted the seat, started the car, shifted gears, and they headed in a new direction.

George: “It's a dirt road that runs parallel to the main highway. According to the map, we should get onto the main highway just after the jam.”

The quality of the road was terrible. It was strewn with small stones and shallow potholes. The weather was sunny and dry, which made it easy to navigate due to good visibility and no impassable mud. On the right side of the road was a vast desert without a single plant, and on the left side of the road could be seen the nearest residential buildings belonging to the village from which the carriers had left. Rain was a luxury for this region. Michael moved slowly, afraid of damaging the wheels and suspension of the car. The bypass was only eight kilometers long, and it was rarely used, so there was not much time to wait. Given the poor quality of the roadway, the low popularity of its use was understandable.

A passenger car appeared ahead, standing on the side of the road. It was surrounded by a group of three men. They were dressed in tattered and torn clothes and armed with metal cylinders about 50-70 centimeters long. The group behaved aggressively and occasionally hit the body of the car with their weapons.

– Outcasts! – George hissed through his teeth and leaned forward, trying to see what was going on.

George: “Michael, whatever happens, don't stop. If they get in the road, push them. Go around them on the opposite side of the road.”

The Silvers gradually approached the damaged car. Michael did as he was told and drove into the oncoming lane before his car was on the side of the road. None of the assailants, to Michael's luck, got into the road. They only cast an angry glance in the direction of the Silver's. So Michael could drive safely past without getting into trouble. It was at this point that the cars came together. In the driver's seat of the other car was a man in his 40s. He was immobilized: his head was hanging down, his arms were down. The windshield of the older sedan was shattered. In the back seat was a boy about ten years old, no more. He sat with his legs up on the seat and his arms wrapped around them. He cast a pleading glance in the direction of the Silver's passing car, then rested his head in his lap.

George: “Michael, there's a baby in there! There's a baby inside the cabin! Pull over!”

Michael moved to the right side of the road and abruptly stopped the car about 150 feet from the victims. George opened the glove compartment, put the Logistician in there and pulled out a gun.

Michael: “Where did you get the…”

– Fred gave it to him. Michael: “Stay where you are and keep your head down. I'll be back. Lock the doors after I get out! If the outcasts attack, chase them away. – George interrupted his son. He got out of the car, standing in a fighting stance and aiming his weapon at the attackers, starting to slowly approach them. Michael didn't have time to say a word. All he had to do was obey and do as his father told him. After all, his intervention would be of little use. So the boy stayed in the car, locked the doors and half-turned to watch what was happening.

– Come on, let's get out of here! Leave the poor people alone! Get at least 100 meters away from the car! – George ordered the group, waving his pistol at them. The outcasts turned to him and lined up in a single line, tapping their palms defiantly with metal cylinders. There was only a small space between them. George fired a warning shot into the ground. Instantly the sound of gunfire rippled across the desert and the bullet sank into the soft ground not far from the attackers.

George: “Quick, I said! I'm not kidding!”

Michael turned back, staring out the windshield in front of him. He began to analyze, “How come the car's windshield was shattered and the driver killed if the attackers were only armed with metal sticks? The car could have easily knocked them down and by and large not gotten a single scratch, even at a speed of 40-50 km/h. So we missed something. Something we didn't see. Some danger!”

Another shot rang out, then a second and a third in succession. Michael turned around again. George had collapsed to the ground. Fresh blood oozed from his wounds. Michael's hands shook. He frantically rushed to the glove compartment to pull out the Logistician and check how far away the ambulance and police patrols George had called were. The map showed that the area was not served by any population centers and there was no signal. There was nowhere to go for help.

– What do we do? Think, think…” Michael asked himself, clenching his fingers into fists and wrapping them around his head. He was very frightened.

The line of three men parted, and a fourth man appeared. He was different from the others. It was obvious that he was their leader. His face was covered by a protective black mask with metal tubes in the middle, and he wore an old-style protective body armor over his bare body, as heavy as chain mail. On his legs were black knit pants and boots, and on his hands were leather gloves with spikes on the knuckles. The thug held two large-caliber pistols, which he pointed toward George.

– And you thought you and I were going to fight on sticks. You thought you were going to be a hero, and look where it got you,” the leader of the group leaned toward George, breathing heavily through his metal tubes. He grabbed the gun that had fallen out of Michael's father's hands and threw it toward his group. Some of the men picked it up.

The masked man continued: “You're not a mercenary and never have been. You don't know how such matters are handled. What was all that heroism for? You don't know how to analyze the critical situation around you. And look where it's gotten you: you've hurt yourself and put your… son… in danger… I guess. What did you expect? For the police to come? Ha! I'm gonna disappoint you. This is the suburbs, baby! And the cops don't come here. It's not their territory. So there's no one to help you.”

George didn't move. His eyes were still open, and he was breathing heavily, trying to stay conscious. The masked man walked slowly toward the car where Michael was sitting. The boy straightened up. He looked back and forth at the steering wheel, the gearbox, the glove compartment, the pedals and didn't know what to do. At the same time, his father's last words flashed through his mind. Finally, he turned the ignition key, started the car and shifted gears to get going. All that was left was to release the brake pedal. There was a knock on the passenger window. Michael turned his head.

The masked man was standing across the street, pointing one of his guns at him, “Turn off the engine, kid, and get out of the car unless you want to end up like your daddy!”

There was nothing to do. Michael turned off the power to the car and got out of it. Questions ran chaotically through his mind: “What happens next? Is this the end? Has the order failed? Is the father alive? Will the police and the ambulance come? Will anyone help them? What will happen to Mom when she finds out?”

The gang leader approached Michael from behind, searched the boy, took his cell phone out of his pocket, shoved him in the back and said: “Now go to that car and sit in the back with the other kid. And sit still so I don't hear or see you, or it'll be worse!”