Read Fugitive X for Free Online

that it was good solid energy, better than anything they would be able to scavenge.
    “Thank you,” he said. It was a big deal, sharing scavenged supplies with a stranger. Military kits weren’t easy to come by.
    Erica nodded. “No problem.” She held up a spoonful of the nasty paste. “Fine meal like this needs company.” She looked away, staring off into the trees as she ate, and Nick took a few moments to study her. Her hair was dirty and ragged, like she had chopped it with that long hunting knife of hers. And she smelled like sweat. Not that he smelled any better. But she was pretty, with her large brown eyes and tan skin, strong but lean arms, long legs tucked underneath her.
    She turned quickly to look at him and he guiltily jerked his gaze away, belatedly trying to act casual. “Your eye,” she said, pointing at his face with her spoon. “How’d you get it?”
    Nick froze and felt himself flushing. Damned bot eye, turning him into a freak. . . . It was worse than the original blind one. “Long story,” he said.
    “Well you must have spent some time with the bots, to be carrying around a piece of their tech in your skull.”
    “It’s not your business,” he said gruffly. He instantly regretted his tone, but said nothing else. He wasn’t about to tell this stranger about his time in the City.
    Erica stared at him a moment, then shrugged. “Man of mystery. Fine by me. We’ve all got our secrets.”
    “I’m sorry,” Nick said.
    “Really, not a problem, I understand,” said Erica. “So tell me something that you
are
willing to talk about.”
    Nick thought for a bit about what he could tell her. “My Freepost was destroyed by the bots. My brother and sister and I escaped.” He paused, needing to compose himself. “And now it’s just me.” He took another spoonful of the paste, not because he was hungry but because he didn’t trust himself to say anything else without spilling the whole sob story. “Tell me about these rebels,” he said, finally.
    “Don’t know all that much about them,” said Erica. “They got their hands on a bunch of nice weapons somehow, andthey run little guerrilla-style attacks on the bots. Don’t really accomplish much, as far as I can tell. At least, they haven’t changed my life for the better. I’ve run into them a few times in the woods, a few more times trading in the Freeposts. . . .”
    “I think I saw a few of them, scouts maybe,” Nick said. “They had burst rifles and—” He cut himself off. Erica had suddenly stiffened, staring at something over Nick’s shoulder.
    “Don’t move,” she said.
    “What is it?” Nick whispered, feeling a rush of dread and adrenaline. “A bot?”
    Erica slowly, carefully, reached into her pack at her feet and pulled out a pistol. It was a bolt gun, similar to Nick’s stunbolt, but more powerful, with a longer range. And unlike the stun-bolt, it could kill a person with one shot.
    Erica raised the gun toward Nick’s face.
    Nick tensed. “What the . . . ?”
    “I said don’t move,” Erica hissed, aiming the gun over Nick’s left shoulder. “Do you want to get shot in the face?”
    Erica held the gun steady, aiming, and Nick held himself very still.
    Nick saw a flash, bright, and felt a rush of heat on his left cheek and heard a buzz zip past his left ear.
    “Got it!” said Erica.
    Nick opened his eyes and spun around, scrambling to his feet. On the ground, twenty feet away, lay a dead rabbit, shot in the side of the neck.
    “Our next meal,” said Erica, standing up and clapping Nick on the shoulder. “Unless you prefer protein paste, of course.”
    That evening as the sun was setting, after eating the rabbit for an early dinner, they arrived at the Freepost. Nick’s breath caught as he saw the makeshift shelters, the mix of scavenged and foraged materials, tucked tightly into a clearing. So reminiscent of his own Freepost, his whole world just a few short weeks ago, now gone forever. Kevin was