Reality Intrudes

1

Jim rose from the haji squat. His gilly suit lofting strips of burlap wetly in the breeze. He slipped the rifle in the drag bag and settled the rest of his gear before he hefted the assault pack then the drag bag and finally the M4. It went across his front, single pointed. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the load, twenty pounds of plate carrier and plates. Forty pounds of assault pack and thirty odd pounds of weapons and ammo. Not bad. Much better than the standard seventy percent of body weight. Damn sure better than the real world eighty-five or ninety percent of body weight.

Of course, he had the truck, so he really only ever needed the assault pack. So, he would tear down this ambush and move on to the next. One day they would all be in the right place at the right time. He had nothing but time.

Plus, he had found that guy in the van for the third time. He would have to send in the video. See if he got confirmation. If he did that guy would be easiest. He never got closer than about a K to the others. He lived in that van.

Jim moved silently down the ridge from his position and slipped into the truck after dropping the gear in the bed under the topper and stripping off the gilly suit. Time for a nap while the PRT moved in and did their bullshit. Then he could police up his gear and move on. They had gone east and couldn't help leaving a trail of bodies.

"These pouch meals are good as an MRE." No one replied of course. There was no one there. There hadn't been for five years, maybe ten. Jim couldn't remember.

Oh, he was still married on paper. His kids were grown now and having kids of their own. Maybe grandkids by now. The wife was back in, well, how do you like that? He couldn't remember. He would have to look at Facebook. She didn't give a fuck. Good conservative girl when he had married her thirty-five years ago, then she went wildly fucking liberal. Over politics. Fucking bullshit that didn't matter because it always stayed the same anyway, FUBAR. That was that, as they say. Long Island! It is what it is. Now he remembered. Bada Bing!

Didn't really matter did it. He had survived cancer but the chemo was cardio toxic and gave him diabetes. The meds, well they made things even more difficult. Then that healer had done her thing but gone nuts or something so now he was practically immortal and different. Augmented. Improved to the maximum possible. The Six Million Dollar Man, except for free.

Of course, she might not have gone nuts. He had just had his investigation done and his old boss retired. It was the perfect time for the government to do something crazy. So, of course, they had done something stupid and crazy. Maybe. Occams razor, or some shit. The government was retarded and crazy and did what it wanted to and fuck the individual. Ergo they had had some plan for him and his unique skill set and he had fucked it up retiring. Oh well, spilt milk.

Meanwhile how does your retirement fund hold up against immortality? Ask your financial adviser about that one. So now he hit fucks for money. "Be a hunter. That GO when I was in basic was right. It only took thirty seven years for him to be that way." Jim smiled.

He drove to his hide and slipped the truck in the hole it barely fit in. Getting out he stretched and moved the screening material back across the hole. "Nap time. Better look at the weapons first and hang the suit up. Fucking rain. If it ain't raining we ain't training."

Reality Intrudes

Jim woke up in the back of the truck cab he had converted to a sleeper type arrangement. "Crew cabs. Gotta love em." He made breakfast with supplies from the cooler hooked to the battery bank he had installed, on the camp stove he had rigged. More than rigged really. The truck was pretty sweet. Years of modifying vehicles so they were livable in the field. Army Training.

After breakfast and cup of coffee he was up and moving. Time to pick up his shit and move it to the target after next. The idiots would already be at the next target. He turned on his scanner and listened as he drove just to make sure they didn't take a left or some shit. They had done it before after all. He would hit a McD's or something to upload the video and confirm the reward on the van idiot later.

Reality Intrudes

Jim lay hunkered down in the snow, not intentionally, but it had snowed last night. Out here on the plains he was a bump the reverse slope of a low ridge and so he was now a drift. "If it ain't snowing we ain't going."

The idiots hadn't taken long here. The evacuation robbing them of all but the normal idiots. They were going to move. The guy had gotten a truck to go with the bus they had. Big tandem axel panel truck.

He shifted his sights shorter and looked at the silhouette of van man through the windshield. He got into the lull of breathing and blinked in surprise when the recoil came. The seven-millimeter Remington magnum in this light chassis had hurt when he was…well, before, now it didn't. He slid down the ridge and ran to his truck. He was gone long before the first of them arrived near his position. Thank god the plow trucks had already been out. He hit the interstate, another truck among thousands, and drove to the next overpass before he circled back.

He moved to his alternate position and watched for the rest of the day. He noticed he wasn't alone. The PRT was building a presence. The idiots were gone. He loaded up and moved out.

At the van he dragged the stiff corpse out of the driver's seat and stomped it flat enough to go in the body bag. Rigor mortis was a bitch. "Ha, sternum. Nice. Center mass baby! Eight hundred meters. Got to love a seven millimeter rem mag and Nosler ballistic tips. That windshield didn't deflect it at all. Didn't even need the Barret for that shot."

He was rifling through the van emptying it of anything useful or valuable when the PRT Trooper stepped around the building "Freeze."

"Yeah no. Registered bounty hunter. License is on the truck hood under the rock. I'm cleaning up here, rigging this van for towing then leaving. Them idiots might come back." Jim never stopped working.

The PRT trooper walked to the truck hood as his battle buddy covered him. He read the license and then looked through the entire packet. "So you just shot him?"

Jim shrugged "Look Kid, I work alone. I can't take chances. Sure the live bounty was half again as much money, but you have to be alive to spend it right? I did my service to country before your older brothers and sisters ran down your momma's leg."

The PRT Trooper backed up as Jim got in the truck and used the backup camera to back onto the van, then got out and hooked it up on the repo lift. Jim finished chaining it down "OK, I'm done here Kid. If I was you I would get out of town. They will send someone back for the body. That little girl likes to make em into zombies or some shit."

"What are you going to do Sir?"

"Go to the state capitol and turn this sack of meat in for the bounty. Sell the van and whatever I don't want from it. New windshield and fixing the hole in the back door will be five hundred bucks or so, but it's a fairly new van. Should be worth fifteen grand or so, even on a quick dump. Probably get a room and a shower somewhere. Been about a month. Restock, catch up with the idiots, and start again. Probably the hatchet one next. Power nullifier right? So the little one couldn't have tuned him up to much." Jim got in the truck and rolled the window down "Like I said, they will circle back. I would leave was I you. Yall have a good day now." He pulled off after reaching out and taking his paperwork back.

Reality Intrudes

"Door to the Bounty Hunter" Number Man stepped through the door and an M18 went off. Jim rolled out of his position under the Kevlar blanket in the pit of the garage floor after a lengthy silence and snorted. "Well, well. You are worth a few duckets too Harbinger."

Jim removed his ear plugs and set about cleaning up. He got the Number Man bagged quickly and was on the road in minutes moving from the abandoned garage. His stop at the morgue included a few minutes of paperwork and a report on the computer then he was off again to the next position he had scouted. "People must think I just drive around looking in abandoned buildings all day for fun. Good day though. Seventeen million. Once the paperwork comes through. A couple more and I will have enough to live off the interest."