Free Meritorium (Meritropolis Book 2) by Joel Ohman

kept the wild beast attacks to a minimum. Orson was no stranger to killing men in battle. He and Grigor were virtual wrecking balls of destruction. But to murder a man in cold blood because of premeditated malice was not the same thing as killing someone in battle or sentencing a citizen of Meritropolis to be put outside of the gates.
    No, to Orson it was not the same thing at all.
    Sweat bubbled up on his brow just thinking about it. And this person he harbored such a deep bitterness toward was not just anyone. It was his father.
    Orson stood up slowly and began to walk back to camp. If he was honest with himself, part of the reason—really, the only reason—he had allowed Charley to live, and to lead them on this hare-brained journey into the wilderness, was so that, maybe, just maybe, Charley would lead them to his father. And—admitting it to himself now for the first time—Orson wanted Charley to kill his father, so that he wouldn’t have to. But, looking up to see the sun beginning to streak the sky with bursting rays of gold, Orson suspected he was being foolhardy.
    His father was not a man to be trifled with.



CHAPTER 4
    The Hunt
    H is feet were killing him, but Charley trudged on wearily. Blisters were already a foregone conclusion, but he kept his head high and maintained a steady pace with Jameson, who chattered happily, seemingly unaware or not caring that they had been hiking virtually nonstop for the past six hours since waking.
    “Check it out!” Jameson picked up a stone, and with a spry little hop he twisted his wrist and side-armed the rock into a burrow along their sandy path.
    Charley forced a smile. “Nice throw, you made it in,” he said, looking away from the hole the rock had disappeared into.
    “No, wait—just look!” Jameson pointed at the hole, still skipping along the path with an enthusiasm and energy that Charley thought was downright inhuman. “Give it a second, just one more second. Here it comes …”
    Charley watched, grateful for the opportunity to slow down. The sand encircling the burrow shuddered, little granules capsizing inward as something pressed its way out to them slowly. A slender snake head poked its way out, a long, blue forked tongue flickering in their direction. Charley started, taking a step back.
    Jameson looked at Charley with a scornful lift of his eyebrows. “You’re scared of it—a little snurtle? I thought you killed a bion …”
    Hank snorted. “Please, Charley hardly did anything. I killed the bion.”
    “Sure, whatever you say, Hank.” Charley kept his eyes glued to the creature. Hank could be so annoying with his exaggerations and braggadocio. “If you want to know the truth, though—” Charley turned to look at Jameson—“even Sandy did more in the bion hunt than Hank.”
    “ Even Sandy?” Sandy approached, a frown creasing her forehead. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
    Charley gulped. “Umm. It didn’t mean anything …” His voice trailed off lamely, and he mentally kicked himself for being so preoccupied with the snurtle that he hadn’t seen her walk up.
    “Oh come on, tell her what you really mean, Charley. She’s just a girl, right?” Hank taunted, shoving Charley in the direction of the burrow. “Or are you as scared of her as you are of snurtles?”
    Charley twisted away. “I’m not scared of snurtles. I just don’t like them,” he mumbled, still eyeing the creature emerging from its home while carefully trying to avoid the look of displeasure that was growing on Sandy’s face.
    “Yes, Charley.” Sandy jutted her hip out, blocking his path. “What exactly did you mean?”
    Charley couldn’t help but notice Jameson and Hank watching carefully, eager to see how the mighty bion hunter would handle this confrontation.
    Charley drew up short, eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you just put a lid on it? I don’t need to explain anything to you, especially if you’re gonna go all psycho.” He brushed by