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Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(14)

By:Steven Campbell


Grever closed the door and faced me, looking uneasy. I handed him Jyen’s list to get right down to business.

“I need this,” I said.

He looked it over for a while.

“Wow, this is some zippy-duty stuff. I didn’t think you did drugs.”

“I didn’t say they were for me. That’s just what I need.”

“Who’s it for?” he asked.

That struck me as an odd thing to request.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, I’m just—,” he stammered. “You know, with the way things have been going lately, I just want to, you know, be sure who I’m dealing with.”

“You’re dealing with me. That’s all,” I said calmly.

Grever looked over the list again.

“A few of these, more than a few, probably aren’t anywhere in the entire state of Ginland. I don’t even know what this one is,” he said, pointing.

“How much of it can you get?”

He took a deep breath and started adding it up. Then he bit his lower lip.

“Uh, this is going to cost a lot of credits to put together.”

“Give me an idea.”

“Well, a lot.”

“I’m on a schedule here. Do I have to go elsewhere?”

He added it up for a bit.

“I can get half of this. It’ll cost about…” Grever paused, looking at me closely. “15,000.”

That was about what I was figuring, so I was happy with that number.

“If you can get me half I can get you 15K.”

“When?” he asked.

“Right now.” I took out a token with 30,000 as proof.

“Don’t move,” I heard a voice say behind me.

I turned around. There was a shivering junkie standing there holding a pistol pointed at me. A big pistol. His eyes were screwed up, his hair a mess, and he had the blotchy, wrecked skin of someone who had done a whole lot of drugs in his life.

I really didn’t need this.

“Crayv, man, put that away. This guy is buying,” Grever yelled at him.

“Shut up. Shut up. You, give me that token. Give it here!”

I looked at Grever. This was his apartment.

“Crayv, what are you doing? This guy is Hank. You know like from The News.”

“I-I don’t care who he is, h-he’s going to be dead if he doesn’t throw that token over here.” His voice was high-pitched and stuttering. I saw there was no negotiating with him.

“Is this guy a friend of yours?” I asked Grever.

“He was just smoking out in the back. Ain’t no friend, man,” Grever answered nervously. He put his hands up as if to completely disassociate himself.

“I’m talking to you!” the junkie screamed.

“You know him though, right?”

“Do what you got to do, man,” Grever said.

I apparently wasn’t getting anywhere with either of them. I took out my four-barreled shotgun from under my coat.

It was an intimidating weapon for sure. I had the top two barrels loaded with very tiny steel pellets about the diameter of sand. Since the barrels were cut so short, I was basically blasting…well, anything unfortunate enough to be in the general direction I was aiming, within thirty feet. Those shots weren’t lethal unless I fired point blank.

The bottom two barrels I loaded with buckshot. So the first two shots were to slow them down and convince them to reconsider whatever actions made me fire. The next two shots were to cut them in half if they didn’t listen. I only carried eight shots, including the four in the gun. Most fights were usually over before then.

Seeing four shotgun barrels pointed at him from ten feet away convinced the junkie it was a judicious time to shoot me. Or shoot at me anyway.

I actually looked behind me to see where he missed because I heard the pang against the metal wall. If I had stood on a ladder and jumped to the side, that shot might have hit me.

“Hey, you idiot,” Grever yelled at him as he dove for cover.

I walked forward and the junkie shot me in the right shoulder. It hurt. A lot. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed him by the wrist holding the pistol. I pulled his arm to the side. I then stepped on his feet and that’s what really caused him pain—I was not a light guy.

“So do you know him or not?” I asked Grever again.

“Hey, it’s your call. I’m not even here,” he said hurriedly.

I rolled my eyes. The junkie was struggling with me but there was no way he was going to push me off his toes. I could barely push myself.

On one hand, this guy was obviously high. On the other, I can’t have people shooting me without repercussions. Grever had known me by reputation. When I leave here, he’s going to tell people what happened and that’s going to affect me from then on.