Ain't Talkin'

The grinning Doctor Weaving stood with dust on his pressed suit, sucking the blood from his mouth through his teeth and spitting a red hawk on the ground.

“That’s it, Mr. Roche, your solution to all things. The violence in you it’s . . . intoxicating.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes, yes indeed. And yet you’ve not heard the entirety of my offer, nor deigned to ask what I am and what my role in all of this is.”

Roche clicked the hammer on his Ruger. “You’ve got ten seconds. I’m listening.”

The Resistance soldiers had their guns up, trained on Roche, edgily unsure of themselves though. Alex Markus’ hands hung limply at his sides, helpless. Only Kendall Miner had the fortitude to step forward, putting a shoulder shakily between the hunter and the doctor, moving slowly with his cane.

“Please, Mr. Roche. There’s no need for this. We’re all on the same side here.”

“I ain’t on no one’s side, mister. Best get that good n’ straight.”

“Yes, yes. But, we’d appreciate your cooperation and hearing out our offer. Please?” Miner’s eyes were pleading, as desperate as the old man could make them seem through the wrinkles and ridges.

Roche kept the revolver trained on the doctor’s thick grin for another second before putting up the gun. He neglected to holster it, but kept it handy.

“Talk then.”

“Excellent. Please bear with me through this, I’d hate to have another whack to the head. I do need my brains after all.” Grin. “You know my background, yet I have neglected to state my affiliations. Until recently I was in the employ of the Corporation. I worked closely with men like young Mr. Markus here. Though, I must admit, my line of work was more hands-on.

In dealing with the astounding number of walkers who seem to populate the worlds, I found a common enough name that seemed to connect to most of the dots. Roche, they all said. They knew of a Roche, a man who was older and more experienced in the ways of the ether than most. Though try as we might we could not locate you. Perhaps because you were between worlds whenever we looked or because of your penchant for not leaving witnesses to attest to your doings. Either way is incidental. So we tracked your history, hoping for a link that would help us get your attention.

Did you know there’s still an outstanding bounty on your head for the deaths of William Dunham, Andrew Vickers and Patrick ‘Patchy’ Wilkes? The three of them being men of interest in the disappearance of a one Mollie Groux.”

Roche’s blood rose to a thump in his breast. Weaving held his hands up defensively, placatingly, and grinned.

“I apologize, I won’t use her name again. Quite the effect it has on you. The most interesting point was that these men had all been murdered in er. . .hideous, I believe is the appropriate word. Hideous circumstances. And over forty years after they had been acquitted due to lack of evidence. Lack of a body or any testimony specifically. Then the transcript of a young police officer directly preceding their untimely demises. Threatened with bodily harm, he gave out information regarding a then closed case. Though I suppose you remember all of this.

In turn, we tracked the young miss’ family tree and were able to obtain genetic samples from her familial line through relatives. Using these I was able to further my research in the science of genetic reconstruction. More specifically using genetic reprints of tissue to influence the growth and development of a bundle of zygotic cells. Creating individuals, cloning, more like. Though I must admit the subject of my interest was both purely a selfish and altruistically chosen individual all at once.

This all being said, the child in question is still in the possession of the Ethercorp. I was unable to retrieve her on my way out.”

“Her?”

“Yes, a little girl.”

“Way out?”

“I defected, chose what I believed to be the winning side. Imagine my elation at discovering that you were the hunter hired to track down Mr. Markus. Pure coincidence or the aligning of fated stars? It’s all kismet, Mr. Roche.”

The air was thick with tension. Roche could smell the sweat off the Resistance soldiers as they sweated and worried. Doctor Weaving just kept grinning like a bastard. Markus just stood there uselessly. Miner spoke with care.

“That all being said, Roche, would you consider my offer of assisting the Resistance in stopping this construct experiment, this invasion, if it meant we would help procure this child? We would render her to your care if you wish, or just keep her out of harms way for as long as necessary. The choice there is up to you, but we need the assistance of walkers in this matter. Please?”

Roche ground his teeth, so hard that it made his eyes ache. He holstered his gun. He turned rigidly and looked back over the dunes of the wastelands, far away a flock of bird lifted from a metal cavalcade of power lines, the sun beat down and the dust swirled in devils.

“You got me. And when all this is over, I’m killing the doctor.”

“That’s not part of the deal.” Miner said stubbornly.

“Then I guess we got some negotiating to do.” Roche lit a cigarette.