"To Kill A Runner" Chapter Eight "Seeking Asylum" (Cyberpunk Fiction)

Driving through the night out of the city and away from the slums. Britney awake, alert and eyes on the highway. Jarome sat in the back of the van head down and his emptied hand gun at his feet. Still bleeding from his head he tried to shake off the visions of a dragon of fire that seemed to blaze out of that old mans eyes. The old man must have been seventy years old but had the strength of a bull, impenetrable to bullets and able to burn a warehouse down with his gaze. Despite the stacks of blood stained money they felt broken and defeated.

Britney knew that they had almost died and without the KGB ballistic knifes she would never have distracted that strange modified man and save Jarome. The old man obviously had stake in the Triads but who was he ? Pressing the pedal to the floor she sped out into undeveloped countryside, avoiding Lone Star patrol cars and hopefully helicopters most certainly in search of their vehicle.

“Where are we going now ? “ Jarome asked sat trying to count money and separate the bills that had significant blood stains.

“The Reservation Land, to regroup” responded Britney

The local reservation land had their own jurisdiction and laws, criminals often hid on these lands even if the local authoritative forces did not welcome them. Often the owners of casinos and gas stations that would sell tobacco without the high taxes implemented by the surrounding areas. With not a well armed police force the law was usually determined by family and factions of organized criminals. A tourist trap with cheep jewelry stands and fortune tellers. Then some areas of pocketed wilderness and secluded homes where the natives tried to live in relative peace and quiet.

“We are going to have to use that money to get a new lap top for me, we will need to get rid of this van once we get there and see if we can get a different vehicle. This one is hot”

Jarome continued counting the hundred dollar bills in front of him with a sore neck but a wide grin on his face.
“New clothes and ... kicks, Any damn gun I want from Maj”

“We will get more guns yes but not there we can't go back there with this car at least. Do you know how fast Guzilack will have us in a cell ?” Britney said as they crossed into native lands and past a large blue sign that defined their right to travel was not free.

“Haven't there been cases of shaman rituals being done here still ? Britney ?”

“Like magic casters?, real ones ? Yah but they are rare man, and most of them are mage types, you know ? Starting fires out of their finger tips “Britney said thinking about the native shamans that did rituals that called on the spirits of their old tribes and evoked animal totems.

“You mean like the old man that almost killed us by burning the place down with his eyes ?”

“I don't know how that fire started but I do know that guy pretty much pushed me over getting away and vanished when we got out of that building”

“I'm telling you his eyes glowed yellow and then that fire started from his damn eyes” Jerome insisted.
“And I put three bullets in his chest too and they bounced right the fuck off of him, If that is not magic I don't know what is “

Silence followed as Britney reduced her speed to the legal limit to no longer look suspicious and to try not to draw attention by the tribal gangs that informed the law here. They would be on motorcycles most likely and driving in succession like a long train. Often armed with guns of modern capability and short throwing tomahawks that where tempered steel and sharp as razor blades. Some cultures kept their signature weapons of war.

Pulling into a gas station rest stop in order to resupply and leave the van Britney parked in the back of the building. They left the drone in the back for now needing to dismantle the machine gun from the shot up damaged body.

“Lets get something larger for concealing that mess, and some food. I'm starving. You are buying this time right Jarome ?” Britney smiled as she watched him step out of the vans sliding door and stuff a stack of money along with his glock into his hoodie pocket.

Nodding and squinting his eyes as the sun rose over the pine trees in the distance. Breathing in deep the air that didn't seem to be thick with exhaust fumes, and walking to the convenience store entrance. A man sitting out front of the automatic doors in a folding chair smoking and grinning. Noticing Jaromes waist the man quickly grabbed his hand and pushed his revolver into the base of Jaromes spine.

“Hold it there, Lets see what you got there, empty your pockets. “