The Walker

The morning sun was rising ahead of them, already blazing hot, as the three travellers made their way up the dusty slope. They had to move fast, which meant he had no time to cover their tracks properly. Unless they could get to the grey stone tower at the top of the hill they would be caught in the open by anyone following from the bar.

Walker paused and he scanned the horizon behind him. He could make out the main road through the town, where they had left earlier. There was activity there. He grunted and pressed a switch on the side of his visor; the lens zoomed in and he could make out the gang, gathering together in the shade of a building. Most of the men seemed to be local; thankfully none of the militia had been called. They were armed with pistols; one had a rifle, but what worried Walker were the two dogs. He hated dogs. He swore and flicked the stub of his cigarette away and began to lope up the hill, his boots hissing at the incline.

“Keep up,” he ordered, moving quickly past the girl.

She was supporting her brother, who was suffering in the morning heat; clearly still feeling the effects of whatever drugs he was on, even now. Walker shook his head.

The girl called after him, “You have to wait for us, Lenny can’t move that fast!”

Walker ignored her and moved on; the tower was a good two hundred meters or so ahead; he needed to get there to set up. Hopefully they could hide, but he doubted it; a blind man could follow that clumsy oaf and his sister. He heard a groan and a dry thud and turned to look back at the girl, struggling to lift her brother from the dust.

“Get up, Len, we have to keep up with him!”

Her brother simply lay there, gasping and sweating in the baking heat. Walker looked back down the slope, towards the town. He could see a dust cloud, growing larger; the posse was moving out.

He scratched his chin and briefly considered his options. The two fools below were definitely more of a hindrance than a help; the man was a wastrel, a drug addled fool, but the girl seemed handy in a fight, although she could end up being a lot of effort; too smart for her own good.

He cursed; he would need her gun, if it even worked, when fighting off the vengeful gang approaching from the town. Even if he left them, the gang would make short work of the two of them, and soon be after him.

Muttering to himself, he slid downwards and met with the girl. Without a word, he hoisted Len ungracefully onto his back, his armour hissing and squeaking in complaint, and began to work his way back up the slope. The girl simply stood and stared, eyes still hidden behind her visor, mouth slightly open.

Walker turned abruptly and growled, “Come on, for your mother’s sake, I’m not doing this for my health.” He began striding up the hill; the man weighed more than Walker would have guessed. Sweating, he called to the girl, who was catching up to his left, “You got that gun you pulled on me earlier?”

He shifted Len’s weight as he heard a click, the sound of a chamber housing being pulled back; she was checking it was loaded, “Yeah, I have a few rounds in the gun and some more in my pouch here.”

Walker grunted his approval and continued up the hill. The tower was tantalisingly close now, and he dug in deeper and managed to clear the last hundred meters quickly, the girl easily following at his side. They crested the hill and moved quickly into the relative shade of the tower’s interior. Walker dumped Len on the gravelled ground and took stock of their surroundings, breathing heavily.

The tower had once been at least two storeys, but the top had been blown off; probably in one of the region’s many wind storms. It was an old church, found almost everywhere before the Exodus, made of stones of irregular size, with solid, ancient wooden beams locked into the mostly collapsed ceiling. The stairs leading up to the higher levels were destroyed, but the ground floor had most of its walls intact.

The west facing wall was solid enough; there were large arched windows, perfect vantage points to fire from when the gang arrived. He checked the back wall, found it to be in worse condition.

Not entirely a bad thing; this could work to their advantage; openings in walls make for easy escape routes. He could easily leave at a moment’s notice if necessary, or turn the crumbling mortar into a handy trap, and a tomb.

He turned to where the girl knelt, whispering to her brother. Walker heard him mention ‘Flash’ and he turned away, disgusted, as she fed the weakling his fix, like an infant. He peered out of a westerly facing window. The mob was getting close; he could hear the mad barking of the hounds they were bringing after him. He loosed his pistol, and motioned to the girl.

“Make him quiet and get your gun over here, now. And remember, keep the sun to your back; stay in the shade of the tower.”

She turned to him and nodded and, crouching low, made her way to the window next to Walker’s; knelt and ready with her battered pistol drawn.