Men of Truth (The Wasteland Soldier #4)

FORTY FOUR

The town swarmed with armed men from the watchtowers as black smoke pumped into the sky.

The fire had spread from the bank into several residential buildings. Windows had blown out, doors buckled, possessions disintegrated. Families were being evacuated, children wailing, adults filled with questions and anger, once more witnessing horrors they had thought long past.

Jodie helped Stone into the barracks, he could hardly walk. She pushed him into a chair. He ripped open his trouser leg. There was no exit wound. He rooted in a desk drawer, dug out a half-empty bottle and spat out the cork. He drank and then washed his hand.

She looked into his dark eyes. He stared back at her as he dug his fingers into his flesh.

Sweat streamed down his face.

He gritted his teeth, twisted his head, and then gasped as the blood-stained bullet popped onto the floor.

Citizens came out of houses. Their beloved town was being assaulted. They were angry and afraid but began to help. Rawles was carried inside and Jodie cleared a desk and ordered him to be laid on it. She had no idea if she could save him this time.

He was white-faced, his breathing shallow, asking for his wife and his children. He had been shot only once and the bullet had gone through but he’d lost a lot of blood. She snatched the whiskey bottle from Stone, who was drinking from it now he’d tied off his leg.

The rain eased.

The horizon brightened.

Stone stitched his leg wound, grimacing as the needle pierced the skin, and stared through the windows of the barracks as sunlight picked at the carnage from the night before.

His eyes were grim, face unsmiling, leg numb. He was filled with frustration and kept his pistol ready.

Horse drawn wagons rumbled by loaded with barrels of water and pumps. There was no sign of Cali. No sign of anyone he recognised. He continued to sit, leaning against a cluttered desk. He ground his teeth, and then swept his arm across the desk, scattering everything onto the floor and banged his fist, startling Jodie.

She went outside, held a short conversation with several men and then came back into the barracks.

“I’ve told them to check for your friends at the bank. I didn’t tell them they had planned on robbing it.”

“I can do that myself,” said Stone.

“You can barely walk.”

He pushed himself onto his feet and hobbled forward, losing his balance. She caught him, his heavy frame pushing against her.

“Fuck,” he said.

She kept an arm around his waist, guided him toward a chair.

“Sit.”

An hour passed before he saw Cali, emerging amongst the crowds that thronged Main Street. She sauntered with her head back, black hair flowing in the wind. She was grubby and battered, short skirt twisted. The door to the barracks was wedged open, allowing the Junk Men to carry out the bodies from the holding cells, one at a time. She hovered in the doorway, breathing hard. Palmer followed behind her, gun out, aware of the eyes on him, still the man who’d murdered an enforcement officer.

“Did you get it?” asked Stone.

Cali shook her head. “Bitch shoved me off a roof.”

Stone nodded.

“I went toe to toe with her. Cut her a few times. But she blindsided me and threw me off. Then Yuan showed up, shaking like a motherfucker, and unloaded into her. She definitely plugged her. I saw Pavla bleed, Stone, but Yuan … man, she should have stayed in Batesville.”

She saw the look in his face.

“Oh, she ain’t dead, shit, she’s back at the bank still, she got her arm broke when it blew and they’re trying to fix her up.”

“Pavla was in the vault by the time I got there,” said Palmer. “I saw her get out. I tried to take her down but she’d rigged the building with explosives.”

“Did she have it?”

“I couldn’t see. I don’t think so. I reckon she didn’t even attempt to find it. You said there were hundreds of deposit boxes. Her orders would’ve been to take it back but I reckon the fallback plan was to destroy it. So she blew the bank. She won. She was better every step of the way. A lot of people are going be pissed with us. Here and in New Washington.”

“I think we should roll,” said Cali.

She looked down at Stone’s leg.

“Reardon dead?”

“Yeah.”

Jodie took the satchel from her shoulder, hesitated. She looked at the three of them.

“I don’t understand it. But I do know about war. If this can help then you should go as quickly as possible.”

They looked at her.

“Mayor Jefferson had the flag removed from the bank several years ago. She feared men would come for it. It was in the back of the painting.” She nodded at Cali. “The one you took down from the wall. You had it in your hands.”

Jodie unbuckled the satchel.

“And you knew?” snarled Cali.

“Not until you’d left.” She glanced at Stone. “I went for help, to get the bodies out of the mayor’s house, but there were no deputies around so I went back. When I got there the painting was cut open and she was planning to move it to another location.”

She offered them the satchel. “I don’t think this belongs in Silver Road. This isn’t what our town is about.”

Wiping her palms, Cali gingerly reached inside, and slowly unravelled the flag. It was ragged, musty and there were two bullet holes in it. Palmer holstered his pistol and pressed his fingers against the fabric, almost cradling it like a baby. Stone saw rippled stripes and dull-coloured stars.

Jodie hastily rolled the flag back into satchel.

“Take this and go. Mayor Jefferson is … resting … it’s only a matter of time. They will come for you.”

Cali frowned.

“Why are you helping us?”

“Jefferson is a good mayor, a good woman, but her health has stolen the wisdom she once had.”

Stone struggled onto his feet. She turned on him. “You’re going nowhere. You can’t walk.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “But you need to leave as well.”

Jodie shook her head. “I have a motel to run.”

“Your guests are dead.”

She glanced at Rawles, half-dozing, his breathing a little more even, his wound plugged.

“I’m needed here.”

“You took something that didn’t belong to you,” said Stone. “Once everything gets back to normal they’ll nail you for that.”

Jodie allowed her eyes to linger on him. Loose strands of red and grey hair fell into her emotionless eyes.

“No one can hurt me anymore.”

He nodded, limped to the door. A hoarse voice called after him.

“Stone.”

It was Rawles, face covered with perspiration.

“Leave the armband.”

Stone tossed it on the desk.

“Go before I have to do my job and arrest you. Jodie will escort you to the bridge. She’ll give word you’re allowed to leave. Don’t come back, Stone. You can never come back.”

Stone nodded, limped from the barracks into the harsh light of day where Cali and Palmer waited for him.

Jodie walked a few paces ahead of them, holding her knitted cardigan tight around her narrow body.

“Stone’s right,” said Cali. “You should think of leaving. That wheelchair bitch will fuck you up as soon as she can.”

They glimpsed Yuan as they headed slowly toward the bridge. Her busted arm was in a makeshift sling. An older woman guided her toward the motel where men carried bodies and loaded them onto a wagon. She must have sensed them and stopped to look round, focusing her eyes on Stone. She lifted her good hand, offering him a small wave, knowing she would never see him again.

He nodded goodbye.

Six armed men were stationed at the bridge, shuffling around, under orders to let no one enter or leave the town.

“Who’s that coming over the bridge?” said Palmer.

He drew his pistol off his thigh. The men at the bridge stiffened but then Jodie went forward, arms raised, pointing at the riders behind them.

Stone cupped a hand over his eyes, shielding the sun. He couldn’t breathe. He dare not blink.

“More of them?” said Palmer.

Stone pushed down his gun arm.

“Friends,” he said.

Cali saw the hint of a smile on his face. “Oh, man, is that her?”

Nuria rode behind Quinn, horses trotting across the bridge, the town spread before them. There were bodies on the ground, smoke in the air, dozens of people gathered in small groups.

“This looks like the kind of place we might find him,” said Quinn.

Nuria said nothing. Blonde hair tied back, face pale, cheeks hollow, she would allow no glimmer of hope to enter her thoughts. The goat farmer they’d encountered in the southern hills had told them of the land they were in, pinpointing towns and cities to avoid, especially for women, and the safe settlements that had population. His directions had led them here, a place he called Silver Road, but he cautioned them not to reveal they had come from Ennpithia. Nuria questioned him about a man named Stone but the old man had said he’d never heard of him. She couldn’t forget the twinkle in his eyes.

Stone hobbled toward the edge of the creek. His leg throbbed. Palmer and Cali waited beside him whilst Jodie went to speak with the men guarding the bridge. There were respectful nods and the rifles were lowered.

Quinn saw him first, and a relieved smile filled her face. She leaned in her saddle and shoved Nuria.

Nuria turned her head and Stone saw the straightness of her mouth, the anger in her blue eyes, and the sickly pale colour of her skin. She kicked her horse, trotted forward and slid down from the saddle. She stopped in her tracks, breathing hard. He saw the rise and fall of her small chest. The memories of that day flashed through her head and she held onto the four-legged beast, afraid, as if taking a step forward might see him disappear.

Stone took a few more paces forward, grimacing in pain. Nuria ran her eyes over him, his stitched head and wounded leg. Her heart crumpled. She quickened her pace and stood with him. Almost nose to nose. Relief filled her eyes. Her mouth curved, shaping into that familiar and irrepressible smile; tilting at one end, almost lop-sided.

She reached for him. He reached for her.

“You’ve cut your hair,” she said

And then the world slowed down.

And stopped.

Stone glimpsed movement in the trees that lined the creek. She was in there, trying to make her escape. His hand grabbed Nuria by the arm. The assault rifle rattled and Pavla sprayed them with bullets.

Blood spots ripped through Nuria. She was flung into him. He lost his balance, hit the ground.

Pavla kept firing and one of the men guarding the bridge cried out, bullets lodged in his throat.

She ran into the creek.

Palmer was flat on his belly, gun out. He yelled a warning as a grenade flew high into the air. It hit the bridge, scattering bodies in a deadly explosion. Men screamed and coiled in the dirt, limbs severed. Jodie clamped her hands over her ears. Quinn sprang from her saddle and ran into the smoke, firing her crossbow, loud cranks as she reloaded. She had no idea who the woman was or why she was attacking. Palmer streamed alongside her, pistol in both hands, and the two of them threaded into the creek.

Stone struggled onto one knee, pistol drawn, and started firing at Pavla’s fleeing figure.

But she was quick. She weaved and ducked and he knew she wore body armour. He would require a head or leg shot to bring her down. He fired, and kept firing, but his slugs found the dirt. Pavla took cover behind the wrecked vehicles, a formidable defence, and she began laying down heavy fire. Deputies went into the creek, rifles and blue armbands.

There was shouting.

And gunfire.

And more shouting.

But the sounds were fading. Cali watched him put down his gun. He cradled Nuria in his arms. Blood leaked from half a dozen wounds. She opened her mouth, unable to form any words, and spat out a glob of blood.

Jodie dropped onto her knees and tried to stem the flow but Nuria angrily pushed her hands away. She grabbed Stone and held onto him, shaking, tears flooding her eyes.

Stone saw her terror and anger.

He held her hands, fingers slippery with blood. Gunfire still erupted along the creek, muffled and no longer important.

Nuria found her breath, calmed it, swore, and swore again, and beat the ground with her clenched fists as the pain ripped through every fibre of her.

“All this … I … you were… “

He stroked her hair, her cheek.

“I was dead before you,” he said.

She gritted blood-filmed teeth.

“No, you were alive, you’ve always been alive. Don’t stop … don’t stop …”

She pressed a blood-stained hand against his cheeks, nails grinding into his skin.

“You were worth it.”

Her head rolled against him.