The Brede Chronicles #1 Excerpt 1

By P.I. Barrington

"Miss Tate…Elektra if I may…although your method of payment on the last trip was very enjoyable, payment for a permanent seat on this ship warrants something a little more…valuable. No offense intended." Quentin Richart gave her a greasy smile.

"I can shoot." Elektra didn't smile back.

"You? The mother of a small child?" Richart snorted in disbelief.

"I wasn't always the mother of a little boy."

"I still find it difficult to—"

The lights above his head shattered before he saw what happened. Elektra held up the gun in her hand, elbow resting on the other arm. She'd confiscated the gun in her childhood. It was old but still effective.

"Need another example?"

"No!" Richart laughed out loud. "That is enough proof and enough payment—as long as you don't shoot me!”

****

She didn't know much but she knew when someone was bad. And the man who carried her over his shoulder like a sack of garbage was bad. He scooped her up ignoring her terrified screams and slapping her face until she shut up as he ran through the piles of filth that lined the streets of Garbage City. She tried to resume screaming but her body bumped up and down on him so hard she could barely breathe and concentrated on that for the moment. At last he stopped running and flung her down at the end of an alley where she hit the ground with a lung shattering thump. For a moment everything went dark and when she could see again her clothes were ripped apart and his hands were touching her roughly everywhere. Too terrified to make noise she struggled to no avail and even biting him did not help. When he knelt over her undoing his pants fear gave way to fury and she glimpsed something protruding from one of his pockets. She quieted for a moment and she could smell and feel his rancid breathy laughing over her. She waited for the opportune moment and the grasped the only thing that might come to her rescue.

"You are bad." She said in a small angry voice. "You are very, very, bad."

He laughed again until she pointed the gun at his face. He tried to swat it out of her hand but wrath made her aim precise. She pulled the trigger making his hand and arm snap back and he screamed with pain, staring at the hole in his wrist.

"You little—" He tried to lean over her again but she sat up and pointed the barrel at him again.

"No. You are bad." She pursed her lips solemnly and aimed for his shoulder.

When he screamed the second time people's heads appeared in their windows and by the fifth scream many ran into the alley to see what could make a grown man sound like that. None dared approach her as she stood over him gun still in her hand, frowning and breathing hard. He looked at the gathering his face imploring.

"Catch this bitch! Look what she did to me! God damn it don't let her go! Look what she did!"

No one moved.

"Catch her for God's sake! She—"

"No!" she cut him off. "He is bad. He tried to do bad things to me. He is bad." She never took her eyes off him and even took a step toward him. "If you ever do bad again I will do more bad to you."

He tried to sit up and she shot the ancient cobblestones near his knee. He screamed again and managed to scramble to his feet fast enough to avoid being shot at again. He looked around the crowd with wild eyes until he realized none there would help him. "She's a crazy little bitch! You'll be sorry you let her live." He backed out of the alley never taking his eyes off her and the gun. "You'll be sorry. You'll all be sorry! Bitch!" he spat at her feet and then turned and ran.

She faced them all, gun dangling in her hand waiting for reaction. None came. They slowly turned away and went back into their three room apartments silently until no one was left. No one said a word, no one berated her for bad behavior, all turned away silently as if she was a disease not to be discussed openly. At last she stood alone in the full nightfall; building high piles of trash giving off horrific stench as they cooled from the searing daytime heat. She gazed down at the weapon in her hand and knew it was her best friend. She shuffled among the filth until she found a niche carved into a wall and crawled down into it, covering herself with trash and cradling the gun in her arms.