Gone Looting in Mexico

Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 1

Chapter Four

Our second discussion, that evening, was opposite the first in nearly every way. For starters, Joe brought me a box of Mama’s take-out. Kielbasa and potatoes — I could smell it before they even opened the door. They also brought a third chair, and a much smaller file. The whole atmosphere had changed, like we were suddenly a team on this. I had hoped they might reconsider the charges, but this was way above and beyond.

The sheriff got right down to business. “Can’t say that I like you much, but when you’re right, you’re right.”

I was so focused on digging into the food, I missed whatever he said next.

“… Makes you wonder.” he finished.

“Huh?”

He smiled as he realized where my attention had been. “Go on, just… listen while you eat.” He paused. “I said, Joe talked to Jamie, she saw an empty flatbed headed out of town. No reason for it to be off the highway, so she was coming back here to see what he left for us. Got kind of distracted by that wreck, I guess.” Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 2

Joe snorted. “She actually said it was the most exciting thing to happen to Concord all year.”

The sheriff glanced sideways at him before continuing. “We looked at the wrecks — no drivers, no blood in the seats, can’t even tell that the damage to one fits the guns on the other.”

Well, he might not be able to tell.

“Two wrecks show up out of nowhere, a flatbed leaves. Makes you wonder.”

Joe took over then, borrowing some notes from the sheriff’s file. “There were no plates on either one. The VINs were blown off in the fight.”

This had to be the first vehicular crime he had investigated. These days, on account of dueling damage, there were duplicate VINs on the power plant and under the driver’s seat.

Depending on the car they didn’t always match, but unless it burned to the ground you’d be able to get something.

“But here’s the interesting part.” Joe pulled another sheet from the file, running his finger down some kind of inventory report until he found the right line. “The descriptions fit two vehicles in the Zanesville police impound lot.”

It hit me like a brick, why we were suddenly friends. Their little crusade to be bigger than the big town. And I thought I was paranoid. “How exactly did you come by the list of vehicles in the Zanesville impound lot?”

Fire bloomed in the sheriff’s eyes, and Joe jumped to answer first. “Technically, we are the Zanesville P.D. Look, Concord had two things going until the Blight — the farms and the

University. Both disappeared, and the food riots hit pretty hard. It’s not like we have a tax base, and the state could care less about one hundred and twelve citizens. Dresden, Frazeysburg,

Duncan Falls, all pretty much the same. Zanesville took over the policing for everyone who was Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 3 left. It was either that or just invite the gangs in the front door. So now they send us their paperwork,” he held up the sheet, “in addition to… everything else.”

I wondered what that meant, but I was still busy trying to digest it all. “So where do we stand?”

“You’re right about one more thing,” the sheriff took over, forcing his voice to be level,

“no evidence on your car alarm. No remote on you, nothing discarded at the scene. It could be that someone in beefy armor really did just wrestle the handle until the grenades went off.” He paused. “Though I don’t really buy that, either.”

Granted, I couldn’t see any reason for the one Zanesville P.D. to make trouble for the other Zanesville P.D. But the whole Zanesville connection was their theory of events. It didn’t work for me; I couldn’t see myself coming out of nowhere to be the big pawn in their little squabble. What I really needed was a more compelling explanation to offer.

The sheriff continued. “For now, you’re released on your own recognizance — don’t leave town. Tomorrow, you’re free to go.” Then he got to the kicker. “Your ammunition will be waiting in Zanesville.”

And just like that, I saw that we were on the same page after all. “Just a little bait to get to the bottom of this, huh?”

His voice turned harder. “We’ll hang on to the assault charge. In case you ever come back.”

Joe gave me the silent treatment on the ride back to Mama’s. Though he had been eager enough to show his investigative work in the room, his switch had flipped back to surly since the Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 4 sheriff’s dismissal. Whatever the cause, the silence suited me well enough, as I had plenty to think about.

If you bought that this was all just infighting, you were basically saying the police had murdered a bystander in cold blood. I couldn’t see it; even dirty cops had a limit. On the other hand, framing me for a murder would definitely obstruct the delivery. The problem was, who would whack a bystander to stop a courier? And for that matter, why would cars from the impound lot be involved?

When the car came to a stop in front of Mama’s, Joe finally turned to look at me. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with your car. Don’t leave town.”

“Like what, I’m going to hitchhike?”

He tossed me back my watch and my room key. I caught them and headed for the door.

Once again the diner was dark, so I turned into the bar. It seemed to be the same crowd as the night before, and they started out with the same unfriendly reaction. This time though, they didn’t turn right back to their drinks.

“Howdy, murderer.”

“Who ya’ gonna ‘take out’ tonight?”

Before I knew it, four of them were out of their seats and coming toward me. They were all big, but they moved like a mob not a team. “Whoa guys,” I held up my hands, “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” One of them cracked his knuckles, and another paused to pick up a chair. “By which I mean you,” I added, advancing toward them. Four professionals would be a problem, but four hillbillies, I could take. After the entire ordeal with the sheriff and Joe, it would feel good to work out some frustrations. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 5

An unmistakable clack-clack cut through our plans like a knife. I glanced at Mama as she raised the shotgun.

“Remember gentlemen,” Mama said, eyeing us over the barrel, “innocent until proven guilty.” Her gaze shifted to me. “And don’t you prove anything in my bar.”

Fists dropped, chair returned to the floor, and their unity of purpose evaporated.

“Wouldn’t’ve been a fair fight, anyway,” one of them mumbled to his friends, excusing their retreat.

I raised my hands again, this time to her. “Would another plate of kielbasa be asking too much?”

I found myself at a table again. It was maddening that she broke up the fight — I ached for something to do. I had just under a day and a very limited boundary. If I got right down to it, what I needed was information, ammunition, and my car back, not necessarily in that order.

I started with the car. It might be possible to break it out of impound, but I would have to arrange for some sort of distraction for the sheriff. Without any ammunition, I wasn’t going to be fending off the law. And Jamie had already told me there were no reloads to be found in

Concord. I liked where this was heading less and less — if I pissed off the sheriff, not only would I be leaving trouble with the law on my record, but I would also have to bypass Zanesville entirely. The next city I’d come to was Columbus, much too far to risk driving while unarmed.

Ammunition, then. I could go back for the spare magazine I’d left near the wreck. But I’d be assuming it was still there, and I’d have to walk, which wasn’t very attractive. Even if I made the trek, the Vulcan’s high rate of fire ate through too many rounds — it was too heavy to carry it all back. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 6

That left information. Joe had nicely outlined the facts, but there were holes in between. I would have liked to run some forensics on my car — at least find out who set off the alarm, which might give me some clue as to why. But that was way outside my expertise. The haphazard investigation of the wrecks, on the other hand, I could correct. And while I was out that way I could at least check whether the spare ammo was still there. Better and better.

With a plan of action, my mood was improving already. I dropped my plate at the bar and headed up to my room to pick up my body armor. The problem was, I wasn’t the first one to get there.

I mean, I’m sure the sheriff had been through, checking for my supposed remote detonator. But I was pretty sure he hadn’t left the dated, military-surplus walkie-talkie, or the note it pinned to the table.

I’ve got some things you’re going to want. Call me when they let you go, and I’ll meet you outside of town.

P.S. I’m still looking for a ride.

Suddenly the wheels were turning. Her bike could carry the ammo with ease. I wasn’t sure when it might be safe to try her, but it was just dark, so probably a bit longer. I pulled up the chair and sat down to wait. Five minutes later, I was pacing the room instead. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 7

An hour later, I turned on the walkie-talkie. All the dials seemed to be pre-set, so I keyed the transmit button.

“Calling J, are you there?”

At first there was just gentle static, but then it crackled to life. “This is Jamie.”

“I need to borrow your bike.”

“Sorry Jack, no-can-do.” My temper flared, but she went on before I could jump in. “I’m out of gas, and Dad keeps the tank locked up.”

She had barely gotten the words out when I caught myself wondering what the sheriff would do if he collared me raiding the gas tank. I had to give myself a little mental shake — the bike wasn’t the objective here.

“I need to check out the wrecks and they still have my car.” I sighed. “I guess I’ll walk it.”

“Tonight? Do you have a light?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ve got a General Store.”

“This is Concord, Jack. They’re in bed.”

Frickin’ small towns. Though once I thought about it, I would get a lot more out of looking things over in daylight. “All right. Morning, then.”

“He’ll put some gas in the bike at first light, before he heads in. I’ll give you a buzz.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

With nothing left to do, I found the bed. It was a restless sleep, but at least it came quickly. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 8

I was waiting at the diner when Mama opened in the morning. “Early start today?” she asked.

Funny question, from someone who seemed to be on duty 24/7. “Seems like as good a time as any to clear my name.”

She nodded, handed me a menu, and gestured toward the plastic-covered stools. “Coffee will be up in a minute.”

I took a seat in front of a little chrome jukebox. It was the same menu I had seen before, with a new handwritten insert. The list of actual breakfast options wasn’t any longer. I went with the eggs, dragging it out over several cups of coffee while I waited for Jamie to call. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I settled up with Mama and left. It had to be light soon — I could walk over to the wrecks and she could just meet me there.

That plan lasted until I reached the sidewalk. A police cruiser rolled directly up to where

I was standing, and Joe’s head popped out. “Get in. Now.”

This was getting a little tiresome. While I probably had no choice but to go, I was about to push him around a little for the trouble. But he glanced around nervously, and it seemed like maybe this wasn’t the time. I circled around to the passenger seat.

“Change of plans,” he began as he pulled out, heading back toward the University. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Where’s the sheriff?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Joe, I appreciate the gesture,” I said in a tone that probably conveyed the opposite, “but it’s not going to help my cause to blow town with an angry sheriff on my tail.”

“Listen wise guy, I’m not as dumb as I look.” He handed over a printed message. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 9

It was from the Zanesville P.D., the real one, addressed to their Concord Division. The message was short and to the point. “Nice catch. Lock him up and throw away the key. No questions.”

“That’s you, in case you were wondering,” he added.

I frowned. “So what are we doing here?”

“They’ve got Henry out checking out farms or something. As soon as he gets back, this message will be waiting for him — and he’ll be obligated to obey. But it doesn’t suit our plans just now. You and I are going to save him from having to do something regrettable, okay?”

Just then, the walkie-talkie in my pocket burst into life. “Jack, are you ready?”

Joe gave me a sharp look, and I could tell he recognized the voice. I sighed, and pulled it out to reply. “It looks like I’ve scored an early release. Joe’s driving me over now.” Jamie didn’t respond — I guess she wasn’t ready to discuss it with company. Joe’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the wheel, and I could tell we had just made a hard situation considerably worse.

“She going with you?” he asked, suddenly sounding bitter.

“She wants to,” I answered. He cursed and shook his head. “Joe, you have to know that she doesn’t want to stay. It can’t be too long before she’s legally able to make that decision.”

“A month.” He sighed. “But I had plans for that month. She’s the only reason I’ve stayed in Concord.”

“Then I guess you’ve got a decision to make, too.”

We arrived at an enormous parking lot, with a crumbling sign reading “Muskingum

University — Visitor Parking”. There was a chain-link fence all around, but it looked more like a Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 10 statement than an obstacle. My car was alone in the expanse of broken asphalt. I could have busted it out with ease.

We got out, and Joe unlocked the gate. I handed back the instructions for the sheriff. “If you want to get with the program, I’m sure Zanesville would be plenty happy if I was killed while attempting to escape.” He gave me another sharp look, and I could tell I wasn’t the only one who had considered it.

But as he swung the gate wide, he relaxed. “Whatever I do, it won’t be to get with the program. Henry showed me that much.” He gestured for the walkie talkie. “Give me a minute?” I handed it over, and at long last, got back to my car. It didn’t look like they had tried anything with it, yet the console confirmed that the Vulcan was empty. That was a mystery — no external access, but if they had broken in, the safe should have self-destructed. I filed it under the long line of things that made no sense on this trip, and pulled up alongside Joe’s cruiser.

Shortly he came over to return the walkie-talkie, his emotions written all over his face.

But all he said was, “Follow me to the city limit. When I stop, you’re on your own.”

I triggered the transmitter as he returned to his car. “Jamie, you with me?”

“Yeah.” She sniffled, like maybe leaving home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But continued, “I’m with you.”

Joe pulled out, and it wasn’t long before we made it back to the John Glenn. I triggered the walkie-talkie again. “We’re heading west out of town.” A mile later, Joe’s car stopped. “Here we go…” I added, wishing I could summon some bullets out of thin air. But the short trip was twenty minutes tops — maybe it would be uneventful.

The cruiser was barely out of sight behind me when the radar chirped. I was beginning to think it just didn’t like this road. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 11

Chapter Five

The blip quickly resolved into an unknown stationary vehicle, then split. I slowed to a halt as I came around a turn into sight of three compact but nondescript dueling machines. They were parked side by side, blocking the entire width of the road, facing me perhaps a quarter-mile away. Someone was still one step ahead of me, and not exactly subtle. I thumbed the walkie- talkie again.

“Jamie, I’m in a little spot of trouble here, just outside town. I need to get off the road.”

The radar continued its analysis. With direct line-of-sight, it started to emit statistics on the three bandits. The display refreshed with a curious stream of consciousness, depending on what returns came back first. Three rocket launchers front. Electric vehicle. Small-bore weapon front.

Four wheels. Driver only. Ram plate only. The small-bore icon suddenly added dropped solids to either side — mines or spikes or something else you wouldn’t want to run over. The list went on.

“Where exactly are you?”

I checked the navigator. “Just passed Norwich Drive.”

“Can you double back?” Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 12

“Nope.” The first rule of road dueling is the more scared you are, the more confident you need to appear. Three on one with my only gun empty, I needed to look pretty stinkin’ lionhearted. I engaged the ‘sport’ mode on the console, shifting the motors on each wheel to the highest possible torque. I’d have a big acceleration advantage, but my speed would be limited until I turned it off.

“Right onto Moose Eye.”

“Can’t make it.” They were practically on top of that turn. I was going to surprise them with my speed, but unless it shocked them into immobility, I wasn’t going to get to it first.

“Are you moving or what? Cut across the field on your right, get to Moose Eye.”

I took a deep breath, and mashed the pedal to the floor. “My Precious,” I murmured, a joke so old no one but Backfire would have understood. But the car didn’t mind, and she rocketed me toward the bandits.

They leapt into motion as well, though only the ram car had any sort of speed. For the moment, that was the dangerous one — he wasn’t showing any guns, but the ram plate on the front with its extra armor and reinforcement would be brutal in a collision. The console suggested he had double the power of his cronies, and I doubled it again. In three seconds, we were closing with a combined speed of nearly a hundred miles per hour. Four seconds, and I disengaged sport as it hit its 80mph redline. Five seconds, the rammer and I had halved the distance to each other. Six seconds, and the targeting computer was calculating angles and trajectories — as if either of us had a weapon. Seven seconds, and I could practically see the whites of his eyes. If we were going to ram, it was going to be now.

The two in the rear fired, too far away for any kind of accuracy. Three small rockets and a slightly larger shell sailed past. The computer updated the bandit icons with three Micromissile Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 13

Launchers and a Recoilless Rifle, using the trade names for 25mm rockets and 30mm shells.

Likely they were just feeding the input to their own targeting systems, hoping to walk the fire into my path as I closed — but I wasn’t about to offer that opportunity.

With no time to spare, I jerked the wheel right, leaving the road and slamming into the weed-choked field. I sent a silent thank you to whatever corporate stiff insisted on building all our couriers on an off-road frame. My high suspension and knobby tires were perfect for this kind of move. Ram car turned to give chase, but it was a road car; all he managed to do was spin out in the grass, losing precious time while I made good my escape.

Well, that was the theory, anyway, except the other two bandits had turned onto Moose

Eye to intercept.

“Heading for Moose Eye and Norwich, bandits in pursuit.” The triangle formed by the two roads and the John Glenn was fairly open, leaving my radar room to work. The far side of

Moose Eye was thick with woods, though I could probably get across Norwich in one piece.

“I’m coming down Moose Eye, but find a way to lose them!” I would have loved to drag them into an ambush, except her dirt bike wasn’t armed either.

I had hit my top speed quickly, but I couldn’t pull too far ahead of these guys or they wouldn’t even be able to see my misdirection. I angled over to hit Moose Eye just ahead of them, turning onto the road with a wash of dust and a slight squealing of tires. I wished I had better grip on the pavement, probably at the same time they were wishing they could maneuver across the field.

It couldn’t have bothered them too much, because another barrage of fire sailed past.

Thankfully between the high-speed pursuit and my angled armor, I didn’t make an easy target. I pulled away as their motors strained to catch up, slowing a bit as I hit the right onto Norwich. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 14

Shortly they both made the turn to pursue, and I slammed the pedal down again. Ram car was finally closing across the field, but he wouldn’t even get to the road until well behind his buddies. With my speed advantage it was easy enough to outdistance them, and then all I needed was a place to hide.

My chance came less than a minute later — a burned-out farm off the side of the road. I headed for the barn, the most intact of the bunch, riding the brake to slow down in time. It was a balance — I needed get there in a hurry, curl around the far side to conceal my entrance, and hit it hard enough to break in. Just not so hard I couldn’t stop before I came out the other side. I swerved around the barn, lined up my approach, and burst through the remaining wood in the door. The radar squawked on the threshold, not in time to stop me from smashing into the ruins of a tractor parked just inside. Stopping would not be a problem, then.

The wreckage of the tractor skidded across the floor, but as I held my breath, it stopped just short of knocking out the far wall. I hadn’t done any favors to my front armor — the layered plastic composites were lightweight yet gave decent protection against gunfire. Collisions, on the other hand, could peel them off in sheets. Still, with a little luck, that would be the worst of the damage for the day.

I pored over the radar display as the bandits flew past. Safe, for the moment.

As soon as they passed out of sight, I carefully backed out of the barn and returned to the road. Somehow I didn’t think I had seen the last of these clowns, and I wanted to meet up with

Jamie while I had the chance.

She directed me to another dilapidated farm. I found her leaning against the bike, scratching under her cast. She turned and reached into her saddlebags as I approached, and that’s Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 15 when I saw she was wearing the medikit I had dumped. Out of the bike, she produced the two belts of Vulcan rounds. “That’s my girl!” I called, suddenly feeling like it was Christmas Day.

Santa may have just saved our butts.

I powered down, buckled out, and picked up the ammo. She headed for the passenger side, pausing to survey the dented front armor. Then she reached for the door to unload the medikit, at the same time I realized she hadn’t been in the car since we met. Before I could stop her, she touched the handle and the alarm burst out at full volume. She jumped back, and I felt like the trees were shaking from the force of the sound by the time I could punch in the disarm code. I cursed myself while she picked up the medikit.

“I’m sorry, I—” she began.

“No, I should have—” I stopped with a sigh. Spilt milk, now. “Come around here and I’ll code you in.” It took a moment to go through the authorizations, and then it was easy enough to add her. The access list stood at Golim, Backfire, Jamie Last, ICC Administration. I thought again about removing Backfire, but I hadn’t finished my internal debate on that one, and now was not the time.

On her second try opening the door, the car cooperated and she threw the medikit and a small personal bag in the back. She buckled into the gunner’s seat, carefully routing the harness around her bad arm.

I could almost feel the bandits out there, searching for the alarm in the middle of nowhere. Our first priority had to be shooting back. I dumped the ammo on top of the medikit, taking a moment to pick out the explosive belt. The only way you could tell the difference was the red tips, and I caught myself wondering why it wasn’t the incendiary rounds that had the red Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 16 tips. I shook away the stray thought as I knelt on the side of the back passenger seat. When I reached for the gun, she gave me an inquiring look.

“The feed’s in here.” It was unusual; almost all weapons were configured with external magazine access. There was a good reason for that, and I grumbled as the belt fought me. I had to thread it through the servos and counter-weights that rotated the turret, rather than slip it into a convenient access panel up top. Another corporate wonk had made the decision long ago that it was pointless to put a high-end security system on the car and then make it easy to disable the weapon from the outside. Not that this extra precaution had done me any good, and the feed still wouldn’t latch on to the belt.

I finally gave up and took it around to the other side. Sometimes you just needed a different angle, even if it was extra-awkward with the mini-safe in the way.

Naturally, that was the moment that the radar chirped. Bandit approaching.

I looked again at the Vulcan, but there was no way I was going to get it loaded before the blip on the screen reached us. We had picked this place because it was easy to spot from the road; I hadn’t been thinking in terms of a layover. Groaning, I shut the back door and circled around to my seat.

Jamie had the targeting computer online and she was working through the diagnostics. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually run that, but newbies did it because the training simulators would never let you start until you did. Fortunately for her, the targeting system was the most advanced piece of electronics in the car, operating mainly via eye tracking and heads-up displays. Her bad arm would be no impediment. But then ‘Weapon Empty’ started flashing in big red letters. The whole thing was obviously futile, but if there was anything more useful for her to do, it wasn’t coming to mind. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 17

I slowly backed around the corner of the building and out of sight, regretting that we’d had no chance to conceal her motorcycle. Worse yet, the loose dirt behind the ruins kicked up into a cloud of dust as I moved through. I sighed as the bandit slowed, then turned onto the drive.

The computer hadn’t decided which one he was yet.

Switching the CB to scan, I turned the car around, waiting for him to commit to the search. Just as he reached the bike, the CB locked on to their signal, and I took off across the neighboring field.

“…girl’s bike.” we heard a rough voice say, and then an authoritative response. “Find him, follow him, we’ll be there.” Back to the original, his voice excited as the sound and dust of our departure hit him: “He’s—“ then it cut off. I cursed, but there was little to be done. They had some sort of cheap frequency-hopper. Not as good as an encrypted signal, but we wouldn’t be able to listen in on their every move.

“How do they know about me?” Jamie asked in a hushed voice.

“That’s a very good question.” I didn’t have time to think it through, though. The dirt to our right erupted as another volley of rockets flew past. By habit I was counting shots, and that was three. Vehicular weapons had mostly standardized on ten-shot magazines, and I didn’t see how he could fit any more in a car that size. It left him with seven salvos. With our speed advantage, he wasn’t going to get another good shot just now, but we had to end this before he had many more chances.

A wall of woods was fast approaching. It was either head for the road or bear right, deeper into the field. The road left all the advantages to them. Plus, as I considered it, the radar announced a new arrival — bandit incoming from the road. I turned right, and the radar chirped again. Bandit across the field, now dead ahead. All three here. They must have been close, which Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 18 didn’t make a lot of sense — there should have been more than enough ground for them to search.

The computer resolved all the bandits as I tried to decide who to take on first. Ram plate ahead. Rockets far to my right, still trying to pick up speed. Recoilless closing in from the road.

We hurdled a small drainage ditch and the car took a bounce. At least this wasn’t going to be easy for three road cars — though being surrounded wasn’t super-attractive, either.

“There!” Jamie pointed to a small gap in the woods. I turned toward it, skidding a little before the tires bit in. It looked like a dirt track, maybe a shortcut from field to field. I had no idea where it went, but it beat roulette with the oncoming guns. At the last moment, I saw that I had misjudged the angle of the trail, and swerved to avoid the trees on the far side. The computer momentarily lost all the bandits, then showed the two closer ones following into the woods. No sign of rocket man. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 19

Chapter Six

The path forked, and went on much further than I expected. It looked like we could play tag in the woods forever, assuming I didn’t hit a dead end. I had the speed and handling to keep ahead of them. But with three coordinated attackers, somehow able to keep close to us, it sounded like a losing proposition. Eventually they’d steer me into an ambush, or force me down a lane with no escape. We needed to be able to fight.

“Take the wheel!”

“What?”

“Take the wheel!” I pointed to the controls on her side. There was a full set, which she had been ignoring, retracted into the console in front of her. “Just pull it out and drive.” The fully redundant controls were another mandate from Sales. Even if the driver is hurt, your cargo is safe. I swore, next time I was at HQ I would slip an Armored Beer Refrigerator slide into the sales deck.

Jamie pulled out the wheel on her side, and I could feel the slight resistance in my wheel as she took command of hers. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 20

“What do I do now?”

“Drive.” I freed myself from the safety harness.

“What are you doing?”

“Drive!” I pointed to the tree line rushing toward us, where her eyes were supposed to be.

She cranked the wheel to the right, oversteering with her one handed grip and throwing me into my door. I guess I deserved that.

Trying to hold myself in place with one hand, I reached around the seat with the other and grabbed one of the ammo belts. I had just let go of the seat to reach for the Vulcan when we hurdled another small ditch. The landing bounced my head into the roof hard enough to see stars, then threw me to the side again as we skidded toward the trees.

“Look, slow up a bit. I need to work.”

“But they’re out there!”

“You can’t outmaneuver three of them forever. We need the Vulcan.” As I said it, we flashed through an intersection, close enough to one of the bandits that we sprayed dirt onto his hood. I got a look at an onrushing ram plate, the kind of view you get just before the light at the end of the tunnel. Jamie screamed and punched the accelerator hard, setting our back end skidding as the wheels spun in the dirt. Against all odds, we still made the far side before the bandit could connect. He tried to make the hard right to pursue, but again only managed to spin sideways and skid to a stop across the way. “We need the Vulcan.”

I grabbed a counter-weight with one hand and pulled up the belt with the other. The access port hung open, but I had to muscle the whole thing around a few degrees to reach the feed slot. I stretched the belt toward the gap, ripping my knuckles on one of the servo supports as

Jamie flattened a small tree in our path. I had to latch the belt into the slot. Then it would just be Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 21 a matter of cranking the loading lever until it sucked in the entire belt. There! Just as the end of the belt slotted into place, a shell crashed into the hood, knocking me painfully into the dash.

“Jack!” the car swerved as my weight struck the wheel, momentarily overriding her controls. We sprayed dirt into the path, skidding forward while the hood pivoted toward the trees. I threw myself back from the wheel, calling “Brake!” She hit it, upgrading our skid to a full-fledged spin.

“Jaaaaaaack…” I didn’t have time to explain. Between the shell and the mess with the controls, we were already spinning. It would have taken a miracle to get us pointing back in the right direction. Without a convenient crossroad, our only option was going to be to ride it around.

The world seemed to pivot in slow motion. “Wait…” The radar flashed with some new data as the trees spun by — but whatever it said didn’t penetrate. It wasn’t the car with the rockets, who was still missing. “Wait…” I had a death grip on the sides of my seat. A hundred eighty degrees and we were momentarily moving backward at sixty miles an hour. I saw the ram car chasing in the distance. “Wait…” The woods on the opposite side of the path spun into view.

The bandit who shot us to start this party was coming on fast, though I expect neither of us wanted a collision. “Straighten out and…. punch it!” She did, and I gasped as the tires bit, leaving us once again heading mainly in the direction we were moving. The oncoming bandit flashed by, riding his own brakes until he could circle around behind us.

I finally noticed the new blue icons speckling the radar display, just as we rode into a shower of tire spikes. That would be the dropped weapons on the display, then. Fortunately they sank a bit into the soft ground, and our reinforced tires were beefy enough to take some abuse. If we could avoid doing that again, we might make it. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 22

“You’re a maniac!” Jamie shouted, sounding happier than I had ever heard. Funny, how some people can be utterly terrified while others ride the rush. Me, I just wanted to make it out of this in one piece. I pulled myself up to the turret again, reaching in to pump the load lever. It had digested maybe a third of the belt when we burst into a clearing, passing a collapsing shed and a handful of rusted wheelbarrows.

The CB suddenly locked on. “Just take him out!” I heard the leader’s voice command, before their channel changed again.

A whine from above interrupted me as I glanced toward the dash. Somehow my reflexes pulled my hands out of the feed before my brain processed the sounds of the Vulcan spinning up.

The turret was already in motion, slicing the belt clean through. It could easily have taken my fingers with it. “Jesus, don’t fire while I’m in here!” I called angrily.

“Sorry,” she grunted, not sounding at all sincere, while the Vulcan churned through the first of the rounds I had loaded. Following her fire, I once again saw death racing toward us at sixty miles an hour. We weren’t missing a bandit any more — he was accelerating directly toward our side. His fourth salvo of rockets flashed wide, exploding into huge geysers of dirt that rained clods onto our roof. But the larger problem remained — if he connected a ram, things were going to get ugly.

Jamie didn’t have much of a prayer of breaching his bulked up front armor, but somehow she at least put her rounds on target. I must have grabbed the incendiary belt, because a line of fire raced across his hood, shards of melted armor flying from the car. Still, it was more of an insult than an injury, until in the mayhem of the moment, his tail lost its grip on the dirt. The smooth road tires slid off to the side, giving us the briefest of respites while he wrestled control back. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 23

“Toward him,” I called. “Turn into him!” She did, abandoning control of the Vulcan to focus on the wheel. We skidded around the turn, dumping me back into my seat, though our chunky tires finally took hold where his had not. He couldn’t maneuver for the ram without totally losing control, and we flashed toward a head-to-head pass at a combined speed over a hundred miles an hour. But I had one trick left.

With timing perfected over the years, I tweaked my wheel to the left and hammered the brake, automatically overriding the gunner-seat controls. Our back tires lost grip once again, and the fishtail gave him a love tap at the exact moment we passed. Though it was barely enough to scratch the paint, his control was already stretched to the limit. As we rebounded I released the brake, letting Jamie work at pulling us out of the turn while his car spun sideways. Before I could breath a sigh of relief, the bandit flipped onto his side, fountaining dirt as he rolled toward the woods on the far side of the clearing.

“You did it!” she called, “That’s one!”

I smiled as I finally strapped back into my seat. If her enthusiasm could carry us through the day, I’d take it.

The radar threw little ghosts on the screen here and there. This maintenance path had turned into more of a maze — I had expected to come out to a field already. Part of the problem was that Jamie had doubled back, trying to get behind the bandits. The navigator was useless — it just showed a big block of “off-road”, not even bothering to track the route we had actually taken. About the only landmarks I could recall were anonymous intersections, the clearing, and the spikes. If we came across those again, it was going to be too late. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 24

I took over the controls, leaving Jamie to focus on the targeting. She may have been new at this, but it was an accurate weapon, a top-end targeting computer, and tight quarters that made for close-range shots. The combination gave her an advantage, and I hoped she could keep the heat on the bad guys. If we were lucky, though, we could still get away. Seeing nothing useful ahead, I turned at the next intersection.

The radar squawked and I had an instant to curse my impatience before another shell rocked our car. The bandit blew by before Jamie could lock on and return fire. “Hold on,” I warned, throwing the wheel into a turn and slamming the brakes. We skidded sideways down the trail, rapidly coming to a halt. As soon as we stopped I pulled out, heading the opposite direction now, and mashed the pedal to the floor. The bandit was disappearing into the distance, but with our motors pushed to the limit we quickly began to overtake.

Under Jamie’s guidance, the targeting computer began to lock on to his rear.

“Go for the tire.”

“What? I can barely hit the car!”

“We don’t have the ammo to shoot through his armor. Go for the tire!”

She took her first shot as we closed, blasting a rock into flaming shards as he swerved a bit to shake us off his tail. It must have given him a scare, because he instantly dumped another volley of spikes. The computer now showed three spikedroppers on the car, and they sprayed spikes across the entire path. There was nothing I could do except crush them under my tires and hope for the best. No blowouts yet, but we couldn’t play this game for long.

“You’ve got to get the tire!”

“I know!” I could hear the frustration in her voice. She could see the spikes pouring out as well as I could. She fired again and missed again. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 25

We caught a small break when he punched the spikes just as he was skidding to the left, away from her fire. It gave me the chance to dodge far to the right, avoiding most of them. But we wouldn’t get that lucky very often.

“Look, I’m going to line us up directly behind. You fire just as he drops his spikes; he’ll try to straighten out for it.”

“But then we can’t dodge!”

“We’re going to eat another set either way. If you make this shot, it’ll be the last. If you miss…” I didn’t need to say.

She took a deep breath. I lined up, he spewed another load of spikes, and Jamie blew his left rear tire into scrap. It was a beautiful shot, right past the wheelguard. He instantly lost control, and in a major way. The car spun, then the front corner caught on a stump and dug in.

The back vaulted into the air, spikes glittering between the leaves as they sprayed out in an arc, still on automatic discharge. The car kept rotating through the air until the roof smashed into a tree, and the whole wreck slid down to rest on the front bumper.

Jamie called out victoriously, “Two down!” I held my breath until we cleared the last set of spikes. We made it through, and I opened my mouth to whoop right back, when our back left tire disintegrated as well. The tail jerked left, then right, and we skidded down the trail as I tried to regain control. I managed, but now we were in a jam. The computerized suspension lowered that corner, compensating as best it could. We could ride a bit more before the back wheel itself gave out, but I had lost our huge maneuverability advantage, and there was still one bandit unaccounted for.

At least, until we emerged into another small clearing, where I was once again treated to the view of the ram plate screaming toward me. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 26

I jerked the wheel hard right and braked, hoping to take the hit on our back instead of directly on the driver’s side door. I needn’t have bothered. I was treated to perhaps the only sight more fearsome than the ram plate itself — a small patch panel blowing off to reveal a massive barrel, which proceeded to blast a hole very nearly through our left side. The acrid smell of burning armor washed over me as our car fishtailed right, no longer under control, and entirely canceling out my maneuver. But the bandit turned away to sail past our back, forgoing the opportunity to crush us for sure. After all that, the ram plate was a carefully crafted fake.

The console was depressingly red as I tried to maneuver around to pursue. Front armor: critical. Left armor: critical. Ammunition: critical. Three tires: critical. The fourth was beyond its concern.

“At least the A/C is online,” I mumbled. Jamie gave me a look, but I supposed she’d learn. If we made it.

It took a moment to wrestle the front around, and I had to slow enough that I was sure we’d come out behind. But the bandit had slowed as well. Perhaps it was due to his own poor handling, but more likely so he’d stay in back to clear his anti-tank gun for action. I had two choices: try to slow down still more to keep him from getting a shot, or try to escape before he had time to hammer through my car. All the armor left facing him was intact, but I won’t pretend it was a calculated decision to mash down the pedal; I simply don’t have slow in my veins.

For his part, the bandit seemed determined not to be outpaced again. His tires spun momentarily, spewing dirt out behind as he raced for the exit. We both charged for the same gap in the trees, both knowing exactly how events were about to unfold. And both of us sadly mistaken. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 27

“Jaaack!” I realized that I wasn’t going to make it past him, and tried to cut it as close as I could to the left-hand tree line. It didn’t work — down one tire, I didn’t have the precision control I was used to. Our car slammed into his, side-to-side, as both vehicles crashed out of the meadow and back onto the trail. We bounced back to the left, careening off a log, then smashed back into his side. The cars had thick enough armor that we were in little danger from the collisions themselves, though by now I had probably saved myself the trouble of painting over

Backfire’s name on the door.

We barreled down the tree-lined corridor, fighting each other to survive. I summoned all the power my motors could provide, muscling him toward the trees. He used the grip of his full set of tires to force the contest back to our side. We bounced apart as we hit the occasional log or ditch, and crashed back together to ride each other’s armor down the path. His enormous gun was useless unless he gave up on the beating and let us pull ahead. Jamie tried to line up a shot, but in spite of the harness every crash and skid threw her around the seat. She never had the slightest break to designate and lock on the target, even though he was right there beside us.

Twenty ways to break the stalemate rushed through my head — we could toss a grenade under his tires, run him into a stray wheelbarrow, fire a side-mounted weapon without bothering to target it, find a rock that his low road suspension wouldn’t clear, and so on. Nothing that was actually viable at the time.

That was the moment that we finally found the end of the trail, in the form of a solid wall of Blight-infested corn.

I never really knew what the Blight did to a crop, but apparently it didn’t involve stunting the growth. Instead of a healthy green, the stalks were camouflaged with various shades of Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 28 yellow, tan, brown, and black. But they were still taller than both our cars as we crashed into the field, separating again in the chaos.

If the corn had still been farmed, it might have been a disaster, but the crop was much thinner now. Visibility was terrible — I only caught the occasional glimpse of motion to my right — but the field didn’t impede us as much as it might have. It sounded like the fists of doom, with rotted ears of corn thundering on the hood and roof, but we were moving. Radar painted the bandit just slightly to my side, and showed us both heading toward a farm and a couple of outlying sheds on the far side of the field.

Before I could come up with a plan, the movement to the side grew more pronounced, and our car shook from another monstrous hit. A sudden wind blew into the car as his gun actually penetrated our outside armor, the impact stopped only by the thinner internal layer around the critical components. Jamie fired back, an abbreviated burst that again left the console flashing ‘Weapon Empty’ in appalling red letters. If she had hit, I couldn’t tell. I turned toward him and we collided again, leaving more shards of armor in our wake. We bounced apart, skidding through the corn, when Jamie suddenly reached for the display.

“There!” she pointed to a shed, “Knock him into that!” We were rapidly approaching the buildings, and I had no idea what purpose it would serve, other than perhaps to distract him long enough for us to put our speed to good use. But every shot he took left us with more red on the console, and it was better than my complete lack of a plan. I went with it.

Just before we emerged from the field, I turned sharply toward the bandit and punched the accelerator, striking him with enough force to knock his nose around. It went off perfectly — he skidded toward the shed as we bounced back the other way. Except as we bounced out of the last of the corn, I saw that it wasn’t a shed. Mulder / GONE LOOTING IN MEXICO / 29

He crashed into the propane tank at full bore; the explosion nearly rolled our car over.

Jamie screamed as the shockwave burst through the breach in our armor, hammering her bad arm against the wall, but luckily the internal compartmentalization held. I was already fighting for control from the ram, and lost it completely as the blast tossed us aside, spinning across the gravel drive. Afterimages bloomed in my vision, making it hard to see much at all.

We came to a stop with our back against the wall of the farmhouse, settling for a half moment of peace before the charred frame of the bandit smashed into the ground nearby. Smaller bits of twisted wreckage rained down on our roof.

Jamie and I were both shocked into silence.

I recovered first. “Aww, come on, way to blow our salvage.”

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