Lethal Seasons (A Changed World Book 1) Read Free Page B

him.
    Nick debated what to tell Martin. At any rate, what he needed to say shouldn’t be discussed here. “It’s quiet. People are waiting for the sick season to start.”
    “It hasn't?”
    “Not where I was. Have we had any reports on what to expect this year?”
    Martin shook his head. “I hate it when they wait like this. It makes me worry that the information is so dire, they don't want anyone to know.”
    “They weren't this late on the Hoofed Flu. That was a bad one for the food supply. Maybe it's good news, and they want to make sure before they say anything.”
    Martin gave him a shrug and a snort. “I don't hope for good news anymore.”
    Nick sorted his silverware and rinsed off his plate, stacking them in the racks for the dishwasher. “I need a word.”
    “My office?” Martin asked as he turned to go.
    “Right behind you.” Nick didn’t especially like Martin, but he had to admit the man was more than competent. He projected an easy-going, relaxed manner that kept people calm, when underneath he had a sharper edge.

Chapter 2
     
    “The subsequent year’s virus was dubbed the flu by the government in an attempt, I assume, to have the populous believe it was more benign, more manageable. This was a mistake that would backfire egregiously. When the death rate stayed high, people lost faith. We knew it wasn’t simply a flu.”
    History of a Changed World , Angus T. Moss
     
     
    Nick grabbed his gear and followed Martin down to the Watch's office. He would give Martin a more in depth report and update the map they kept. As he entered the office, Martin dropped the map file into the smartwall at the back of the room.
    “Bad news?” Martin asked in a quiet voice.
    “Maybe just weird.” Nick put his pack on the big worktable in the middle of the room. Martin might call it an office, but it felt more like a ready room. He pulled his paper map out of its waterproof case. It was creased and smudged and covered with notes in his tiny, tight writing. They kept track of trouble spots and new settlements which they might like to trade with.
    “Weird how?” Martin asked, all his attention on Nick now.
    “Saw a crime scene with way too many bullets, a dead girl and a dead guy in body armor.”
    Martin’s brown eyes went a shade colder. “Could you tell what kind of armor? I’ve seen a lot of that stuff bartered. Stolen from police mostly.”
    “It was brand new. Gun, too. I thought about bringing it back, but it was big. Bringing it on the train would have been . . .”
    “Obvious?”
    “Yeah. And I’m betting we couldn’t get ammunition for it.” Nick pulled a sketch of the gun out of his journal and put it on the table. “You seen anything like this?”
    Martin frowned at the paper. “Not exactly. And not since I left . . . the service.”
    Nick noted the hesitation. Martin didn’t discuss his past. He never said what branch of the service he’d been in. Nick always let it slide, but today he was a little more curious. That gun was something special, not the usual army supply. Which might put Martin in some sort of special ops. Nick filed away that information. Might be something he could use later.
    He tucked the drawing back into his journal. Ever since his last camera had broken, losing over two hundred images of files he’d unearthed for Angus, he’d stuck to pencil and paper. “Not a good situation. New gear like that on a guy that gunned down a young girl.”
    “Any idea why?”
    Nick shivered. “Not sure.” He busied himself with putting the journal back in his pack. He could feel Martin watching him. “Might be jumping at shadows. It’s in Angus’s hands right now.”
    “You told Angus about the merc?”
    Nick wasn’t surprised that Martin had judged the killer to be a mercenary. He’d already made that assumption himself. “No.”
    “Good.”
    Released from Martin’s scrutiny, Nick walked over to the smartwall. Over the next half hour, they discussed the changes he