“A two-bit what?” Misty swiveled her head in Dobson’s direction. “Alright, Dobsy, I’m lost. Be a dear and catch me up here, will ya?”

  Dobson loved a good puzzle, and this one had some curious pieces. She outlined what she knew so far. “Deputy Boyd isn’t who he claims to be. He’s not a public servant. He’s an outlaw. Cycled through a number of gangs, given the spectral tattoos on his arms, before setting out on his own. Must have struck it rich recently, as well. He’s sporting a brand-new cyber skeleton.”

  “Huh.” Misty blinked slowly. “How’d I miss that?”

  “It’s one of those new lightweight prototypes. Designed to be invisible to the naked eye.” Unlike the heavier augmented endoskeletons, featherweight models were not only legal but openly encouraged for those employed within the security sector. The irony being that the only way to afford a featherweight endoskeleton on such meager pay was to rob a bank blind.

  Misty whistled low in approval. “Fancy.”

  “No other upgrades, though. Just a comm implant.”

  “Skipped the bells and whistles, huh? That’s what we in the business call ‘low on cash’.” Misty turned to the unnamed woman and asked, “Is that the reason he took the job then? Desperate for his next upgrade? Willing to do just about anything? Like, say, impersonate an officer of the law, for instance?”

  “It’s not like that. Honest. I-I haven’t seen Owen in years,” the woman stammered. “He and Tommy fell out over a decade ago. I reached out to everyone I could, and he was the only one who responded.”

  “You’re telling me there’s no money? Whippersnapper over here is risking his neck purely out of the goodness of his heart?” Misty’s curled expression transformed into disgust.

  “Is that so hard to believe?” The pair traded equally concerning looks before the dark-haired woman felt it was necessary to clarify the painfully obvious. “There is no money.”

  Misty’s disgust dissolved to disinterest. Shrugging, she slung the shotgun over her shoulder and started for the dead men sprawled near the entrance. “Welp, this has been enlightening, but it’s time to get these two processed before Jonny Law comes rolling in. Good luck with your interrogation, Dobsy. I don’t know what else you hope to get out of it, now that we know there’s no payout involved.”

  “Information, mostly,” Dobson replied.

  Misty snorted her disapproval. “You and your lousy puzzles.”

  Dobson’s gaze settled back over the dark-haired woman with the weight of an iron anvil. She held up the vial of tronic, reminding her interrogee what was on the line. “I believe you were explaining.”

  The woman stared back at Dobson wide-eyed. She ran her tongue across her upper lip, nervously, before offering the first helpful statement she’d uttered all day. “My name is Florence Ramble. And that man over there is my brother-in-law, Owen Ramble.”

  Dobson waited, nearly ten seconds in total, before being forced to prod further. “And is your brother-in-law an idiot by trade, Florence? I can’t think of any other reason he’d risk life and limb impersonating an officer of the law.”

  Florence’s face darkened. “I don’t know anything about that. All that I know is that I sent for help, and he’s the only one who came. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone was coming. Stillwater cut off all contact to the outside shortly after I got the first handful of messages out.”

  “So, all of the men outside,” Dobson started.

  “Company goons.” Florence instinctively finished the sentence for her. “Sent to silence us.”

  “About what?”

  “Stillwater doesn’t want the public to know how corrupt they are. They’d rather silence us than take a hit to their image.” Florence scowled, chewing her bottom lip angrily, before deciding to throw all caution to the wind. “Our main mine collapsed six weeks ago, with a third of the town inside. Killed everyone, my Tommy included.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Tears formed around the edges of Florence’s eyes. She blinked them away, hurriedly, leaving wet trails in the dirt smudged across her face. “We asked Stillwater for help, and they sent us a bill instead, claiming we’d lost valuable company property in the collapse. We couldn’t afford to pay. And you know what they did next?”

  She took a steadying breath. “They cut us off. No food or water for the past month. Shut down all our communication lines, too. Things took a dark turn once the company realized I’d gotten word out ahead of them. They panicked. The men you saw outside were their solution. Stillwater doesn’t have to pay for their cruelty if there’s no evidence it ever happened to begin with.”

  The puzzle was beginning to take shape. A cruel company, a defenseless mining settlement, and—Dobson’s gaze swept from Florence and settled on Owen—a brazen outlaw with a conscience and very little, if any, sense. There were still pieces missing from the narrative, several of which could only come from the deputy imposter himself. Stifling a sigh, Dobson knelt beside the injured outlaw, broken glass crunching beneath her knee, and searched his arm for an access port.

  She found it hidden below the hinge of his elbow. Palpitated the skin with her thumb, she triggered the release, and the protective plate slid away, revealing an empty serum chamber. Dobson loaded the vial and then slid the access port shut again. The only thing left to do was wait for the serum to flood Owen’s system.

  He came to rather quickly. Owen lurched forward, gasping for breath as the color returned to his ashen face. The tremble in his hands subsided at long last.

  Florence rushed to his side. “Easy, Owen. Not so fast. You’re in shock.”

  “Amateur.” Dobson shook her head in disbelief. Only a rookie would push past their limits, willfully subjecting themselves to serum withdrawals. Looking back, all the classic signs of withdrawal had been there—the shakes, the irritation, the flighty decision-making. The idiot must have been running on fumes for weeks. It was a small miracle his body had survived the strain.

  “Alright, Dobsy, leave the two get reacquainted for a moment,” Misty called to Dobson. She waddled over to the counter with her arms laden with stripped parts. Misty deposited her haul onto the stone countertop and waved Dobson over. “Let’s see about building you back up, yeah?”

  Reluctantly, Dobson did as she was told. She started to roll her sleeves out of the way only to be dissuaded with a casual wave from Misty. “Don’t bother, pumpkin. I’m just gonna cut ‘em off. Give us some room to work with.”

  Unease stirred in Dobson’s gut as Misty trimmed the sleeves of her jumpsuit at the shoulders, baring her metal-infused arms. She negated the feeling with a question disguised as a statement. “You have scissors.”

  “I do indeed.”

  “You did not have scissors before.”

  “Excellent observational skills, as always.” Misty reached for a leather kit on the bar and flipped it open, proudly displaying a daunting array of surgical instruments. “One of the fellers by the door fancied himself a hot-wirer. A hack, judging from his tools, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Dobson tried to find some comfort knowing that, if nothing else, the fallen man’s cut-rate tools were in competent hands. Misty talked as she worked, happily jabbering away at what piece was going where as she pried open the forepanel, exposing the internal wiring that ran from Dobson’s left hand to her shoulder.

  Dobson only half-listened to Misty’s explanation. She was far more invested in the whispered conversation taking place across from her. From the sounds of it, Owen was on the receiving end of a heated telling-off.

  “What were you thinking?” Florence demanded. “This was your plan? Impersonating an officer of the law?”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell someone who could actually help!”

  “I’m a wanted man, Florence. Who in their right mind would believe me?”

  “So, what was your plan then? Impersonate a deputy and then what?”

  Owen filled in the blanks, purposely avoiding Florence’s unrelenting stare. “I convinced the sheriff to personally deliver the criminals to the prison himself. Getting inside was the hardest part. Once inside, I figured I’d work out the rest as I went.”

  “You didn’t even have a plan? You were just winging it!” Florence ripped the floppy-brimmed hat from her head and smacked it against him. “Christ on a cracker, Owen, this is just like you!”

  “Lay off!” Owen shied away, sheepishly rubbing his shoulder where the hat had struck him. “It might have been stupid, but it worked, didn’t it? I’m here, and you're three thugs shorter than you were before.”

  “Because of them!” Florence’s hand shot in Dobson’s direction.

  “Because I let that one loose in the navigation room,” Owen retorted, pointing at Misty.

  Florence’s eyes blazed as she scowled at him. “On purpose?”

  “Well, no. Not exactly.” Owen shrank under her expression, admitting pathetically. “But it worked out, didn’t it? Inadvertent or not, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  A groan rattled from Florence’s throat. “You’re useless.”

  “Now see here, that’s not fair. I came, didn’t I? When no one else did.”

  “You were supposed to bring backup! Not just yourself.” Florence’s statement hung in the air unchallenged. Swallowing her pride, she turned to Dobson and Misty, cursing under her breath for what she was about to do. “I don’t like what I’m about to say, but I don’t have any other choice. My hand’s been forced.”

  and stubborn. A truly winning combination. I wrote several chapters of this book with my pinky finger, using the swipe-text feature on my phone.