Red Denver: A Prelude to REHO (The Hegemon Wars) Read Online Free PDF

wounds. Reho let him. The stitches would stop the bleeding much quicker. His jacket would also need stitching.
    ***
    The technician had been gone for a while. A tall, older man with long, black hair and round glasses approached him. He wore a tie and a wide smile. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Reho knew who he was.
    “That was the most magnificent fight we’ve had here in Red Rocks. And I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years,” the announcer said, lavishing Reho with another of his salesman smiles.
    “I’m not doing it again, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Reho said.
    “Oh no, no. I’m Donald Rackette. You can call me Donnie,” he said, extending his hand toward Reho. Reho made no effort to raise his hand. Instead, he faked pain from his shoulder even though the wound had begun to heal and the pain had nearly ceased.
    “Oh, sorry. I forgot.” Donnie said. “It isn’t often that we have a fight like tonight’s. I know the law says you have to leave Red Denver. I have a friend out on the East Coast who runs a sister version of what we do here at the arena. If you’re interested in making some good points by fighting, they’re always looking for a new star to fight their criminals.”
    “You forgot something else,” Reho said, his eyes as cold as the night air.
    “What’s that?”
    “I am the criminal. Now get out of my way,” he said, putting on his jacket as he stood. He grabbed his sack and other possessions and started for the gate.
    ***
    The road leading away from Red Denver was empty. Reho had been down this road and others like it hundreds of times. He checked his AIM. The next stations for food and other supplies were twenty miles down the road. He’d made a quick stop at his apartment in Red Denver. He owned few possessions, all of which were now in his traveler’s pack. From here he would head into the Blastlands. It would take at least six weeks to reach Virginia Bloc, but he knew he needed to return. There was nothing left for him in Red Denver, just as there had been nothing in South Usona, the West Coast, the Great Lakes, or in the Blastlands.
    In each place, Reho had kept his abilities a secret. But they’d always found a way to reveal themselves and expose him as a threat. His domination in the gasolines was due to his unnatural ability to anticipate what would happen next. It made him fast. And his body had a remarkable healing power. He had been shot by both OldWorld rifles and pulse blasters; he’d been stabbed and exposed to lethal doses of radiation, yet nothing killed him. He traversed the Blastlands without an oxygen suit, which attracted the worst attention as traveling parties either attempted to help him or kill.
    Reho traveled the Safety Zone line running along the Blastlands as he waited to fulfill a promise he’d made back at the arena.
    ***
    The Blastlands lay before Reho. He had enough food and water to make it for at least two weeks. The next travelers’ station would be at least ten days away. Already he’d seen other trekkers in the distance, oxygen suits on, prepared for the journey to either the south or the east.
    He checked his AIM. Having been here before, this part of the Blastlands was already mapped out. He wondered if he should have stopped sooner. He looked back in the direction he’d come, toward Red Denver. Then he saw them, several figures silhouetted on the horizon.
    ***
    Reho had known they would follow him. He’d been traveling for most of the morning and was almost outside the Safe Zone of Usona. He had used his AIM to walk along the Safe Zone to give them time to catch up with him. He intended to keep his promise to Soapy.
    They wore no suits. They were on the verge of the Blastlands and must have expected to reach Reho much sooner. If Reho had not slowed down and waited for them, he would have been in the Blastlands, leaving them behind.
    “You can’t go much farther without a suit,” Reho said as three men