Having returned to his companions at the roadside, Leo studied the car they had caught. In its trap, their prey looked much less impressive than in the morning when they had just seen it whooshing by on the highway, faster than a mountain cat. Scratches and dust marred and dulled the vehicle's silver-blue paint. Dents pockmarked its bumpers, stubby nose, and doors. And now it was missing its antenna.
The passengers sat in the front, and the two rows of seats in the back were empty.
"Three of them," Spike said. "Not an adequate revenge for Rose."
"This is not about revenge for... my wife, I've already told you," Leo said. "We've been told to capture them, not kill them." The thought still tempted him, though. The Gaters had killed her just because she had ventured too close to their bloody gated village.
Rose had been searching the Gaters' landfill for something to make a dress of. A child's dress—their daughter Hope was growing quickly.
Subduing the anger clawing its way up his throat, Leo shook his head. "We'll take them captive. Hammer wants us to return with hostages. They're more valuable alive than dead."
"Fine, so let's get them," Flora said. She had her arrow nocked in her bow and took aim at the van, one eye closed, her upper lip lopsided to reveal her pointed teeth.
Leo placed a hand on her weapon, careful not to step in its line of fire. "Dead hostages are no good."
She arched her eyebrows at him. "So you're planning to talk them into surrender? Just by asking nicely?"
"Exactly." At least, he'd give that option a try. "You couldn't crack the car with an arrow, anyway. But if they run, feel free to shoot."
"I hope they'll do that." She grinned.
Leo nodded at her—he wouldn't shed a tear if an arrow pierced a Gater trying to escape.
Leo gestured at one of the men who had waited on the other side of the road. "Rock, you'll come with me."
Rock was the best fighter of their gang, and he looked the part. Taller than anyone else, arms as broad as Leo's legs, tattoos all over his bare chest, and a bearded face that rarely smiled. His mere presence would help the Gaters to see reason.
Rock nodded in acknowledgment.
Leo looked at the other members of the group. "The rest of you, just stay here. Look fierce and ready to kill."
The order made Flora smile. "No problem there! I am fierce and ready to kill."
She also looked the part.
Hawk and Bolt, the twins, both readied their bows. Their weapons were smaller than Flora's, but the two men were master shots. "As you say," Hawk said.
They were six. And the Gaters in that car counted only three.
"If they hurt you, bro, they're dead meat," Flora said. "I'll make sure of that. Lit'rally. Hostages or not. But still, be careful."
"You too," he said. Even though smart, her hot temper tended to get her into trouble. "Keep your distance."
Motioning at Rock, he turned towards the car.
The three passengers had their eyes on them as Leo and Rock approached. Two were youngish. A man and a woman. She—pale-skinned and biting her lips—watched Leo with big eyes. Short, and thin as a twig, she didn't look like a threat. The man at her side, though, had broad shoulders and glowered as if eager to pick a fight.
The third passenger had streaks of silver in his copper beard. His face was impassive. As they got closer, he shifted in his seat and held up a dark, metallic object.
"He's got a gun," Rock said.
"I see it." Leo had expected that.
"Being a gater, he might even have ammo."
"That's likely."
Most of the bullets in the city had been spent in the riots and wars over the decades after the age of tech, and much of the remaining ammunition had gone stale. Leo knew of no one who was able to manufacture new shots. But the Gaters still had working ammo—at least they had had it one year ago when they had shot his wife.
Leo approached the side of the car where the gunman sat, stopping an arm's length from the closed window, watching the man's every move.
"Hey, you've got a problem." He bellowed the words, hoping they'd carry through the glass and into the vehicle. "But if you follow orders, we won't hurt you."
The man operated a control on his door. With a hum, the window slid down, a mere finger's width, revealing a small gap at its top.
"What do you want?" The muffled voice carried venom.
"You give me that gun there." Leo gestured at the weapon. "Then you'll get out, one by one. We take you to a safe place. And then we'll return you to your people. If they pay us for our trouble, that is." He didn't want to frighten them, or they'd never leave that car.
"And if we don't come out?"
"You can't stay in your car forever."
"Wait." The man closed the window, turned to his companions, and said something. His words were too low for Leo to hear.
The passengers started discussing and gesticulating. Leo tried to read the gestures. The young man still glowered at Leo, his dark eyes mere slits. Apart from the eyes, everything seemed pale about him. His untamed hair had the color of straw and his skin the hue of bleached wood.
The girl glanced at Leo once, but when he looked back at her, she turned her gaze away.
"Need help to open this tin can?"
The words almost made Leo jump.
Spike had approached silently, and he now hefted his axe as if ready to smash the windshield.
Biting back a rebuke for approaching without being told to, Leo shook his head. "We're still talking." With that, he knocked on the glass.
The bearded man turned his face to him and lowered the window to open the same small gap as before. "What is it?"
"You've made up your mind?" Leo asked.
"We need some more time." The man's voice was calm now, the venom from before almost gone. "This ain't easy on the kids." With that, he closed the window again and turned to his friends.
"Not great talkers," Spike said.
The unease in Leo's stomach grew stronger. "There's something wrong here," he said. "I think they're playing for time. Maybe, they've been able to call for help. And now they're trying to make us wait until their folks arrive."
"Nasty, nasty." Spike spat. His saliva was dark from herb as it smacked against the car's windshield.
For a moment, all three passengers looked at the glob, eyes wide open.
"Now that caught their attention," Spike said. "Put the fear of God into them."
But seconds later, the captives resumed their discussion.
Leo scanned the horizon, expecting to see the Gaters' flying machine there, heading towards them. But the sky was serene and undisturbed. "Spike, give them a little tap with your axe."
Spike swung his tool, and its head hit the windshield. The vehicle shook, and a small nick of silvery grains marked the place of impact.
The bearded man opened the window's slit once more. "Dammit, I'm trying to convince them to surrender. You're scaring the living crap out of them, and that's not helpful."
"One more minute." Leo held up a finger. "Not more."
The window closed again.
In a whisper, Spike started counting. "One, two, three..."
The people in the van continued talking. At least the two men did. The woman was sat back in her seat, her gaze on her lap. The pale youth kept throwing angry glances at Leo. He didn't look like considering surrender, more like scheming and planning.
The seconds trickled by, slow as snails.
And Leo didn't expect these three to leave their car without a fight.