Men of Truth (The Wasteland Soldier #4)

Stone heard it and ran from the medical hut, heart pounding.

Pain lanced through his skull as his boots hit the asphalt. He saw no lookouts on the fence or guards posted on the nearby rooftops.

These people were useless.

Yuan jogged behind him, calling after him.

Doors hesitantly opened, pools of light catching his eye. Men and women stumbled into the cold night, looking troubled, indecisive.

“It’s happening again,” someone said, as he sprinted past. “The men in the vehicles are back.”

“Give them the girl,” said a second one. “That’s who they want.”

It was what Stone had feared and warned Cali of. The community had recognised her from the wanted poster. Yuan had told him they were encouraging her to stay and it was obvious why. She was collateral and they would hand her over the moment the gang returned. But there was no roar of engines and no exhaust fumes lingering in the air. Something was out of step.

Stone searched with his eyes as he ran. He couldn’t see Cali and guessed that was good because it meant they didn’t have her.

The gate was where the trouble was going to be. It was made of tarred poles and held together with crossbeams and rope and Stone was heading straight for it. Ragged shouts drifted up and over but no one had reacted. They stood around debating and deliberating.

He was a few yards away when his nostrils flared. His run stuttered and he wheeled away as fire engulfed the bottom of the gate. It began to spread and he dropped to his haunches and covered his head, waiting for the imminent explosion. But it never came. No explosive element had been ignited. The gate would burn until it fell apart. Out on the street men cheered and yelled as the flames licked high. There were loud cracks as handguns were fired.

It wasn’t Triple Death, thought Stone. He could feel it in his gut. Behind him the grounds of the compound were rapidly filling. Some ran or walked fast, some only stared and pointed. Stone grew more frustrated at them as the gate blazed. This was their community but they were still inactive and had meekly accepted whatever was coming, even if that meant death. They idled with weapons but he doubted they knew how to use them or would do so.

He scanned the crowd one final time but still couldn’t see Cali anywhere.

He took the submachine gun off his shoulder and cocked the weapon.

This was going down only one way, his way, and they’d better get used to it pretty damn fast.

Hands in her pockets, pulling her coat around her, Cali paced, making fresh tracks across the grey-coloured snow. She was alone, lurking in the shadows of the buildings. It was the way she wanted it. She’d been humiliated. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

There had never been a steady guy for her. No one she could depend on. No one who depended on her. She wasn’t sure she really wanted one. She certainly didn’t need one.

Stop lying, girl, she told herself, reel in that shit. No, fuck Travis, fuck ’em all.

But the world was growing around her, getting bigger and more dangerous by the second, and her circle was smaller than ever. Travis was a cute looking guy, even if he was a bit on the soft and dumb side. The kind of guy she’d imagined being with once this was all done. Only he was a guy and that meant his head was pumped with how he thought the world was, rather than how it really was, and he couldn’t see that a girl like Yuan just wasn’t interested and a girl like her was. Had she come on too strong with him? Like there was time for anything else. What the hell did he want?

The snow crunched beneath her boots. She stayed out of the moonlight, wiping her cold nose on her sleeve.

She could hear the shouting from the street and frowned. What the fuck was going on?

She looked between the buildings where people were starting to crowd. She saw Stone streak by, head bandaged.

She whispered his name. There was a guy you could depend on, a guy who didn’t give up, no matter what. She began to walk forward when the hackles on her neck rose. She realised, too late, that she was being tracked. She whipped out her pistol as Timo surged from the darkness. He collided into her and wrestled the gun from her hand. He buried a fist into her stomach, chopped the nape of her neck and put her down.

Cali choked, stumbled, rolled. The man loomed over her. She sprang onto her feet, holding her knife.

She saw him clearly. He was tall with cropped hair and mean eyes. He carried a shotgun on his back and a pistol on his hip. There were no gang markings on him. He was nothing to do with Triple Death.

Which meant …?

She realised who he was. She was in deep. She couldn’t fuck around. She dropped her shoulder and flicked with her blade, underhand, aiming to slice open his windpipe. She was fast but fear had made her less accurate. She tore a line across his chin. Timo snarled. He lifted his left hand and held it against the wound. She hadn’t stopped him. His right hand went to his holster. She saw her pistol lying in the snow and knew he would cut her down before she got to it. She had only one chance. It was risky but she had to go for it. She had to surrender the knife.

She pitched forward, diving for the pistol, angling her body and hurling the knife at him in one fluid movement.

The blade struck his chest and lodged in something that wasn’t flesh. He tugged it free, unharmed, and stalked toward her, his pistol drawn.

She grabbed her gun and swung her arm, finger moving to the trigger.

There was a sudden explosion of shocking pain as something hard and heavy struck her head.

Cali slumped against the snow without firing a shot. Pavla stood over her, holding the assault rifle.

“Take her.”

The shouting was getting louder. Children were crying. Stone heard the tears and his mouth twisted into a hate-filled grimace.

It was time to end this.

Old scaffolding had been assembled behind the fence, flanking the burning gate, with wooden platforms at different levels. They were patched with rust and dirt but looked sturdy enough. The community had been mindful to assemble it but neglectful in using it.

He sprinted toward the left hand side, away from the fire that had now spread onto the right hand fence, slowly losing intensity as it burned unchecked.

He found a ladder and began to climb.

Yuan’s father, Shen, hobbled after him, an angry looking expression across his lined face.

“This is because of you.” His cane poked holes in the snow. “Do you see how frightened our people are?”

He gestured furiously, white hair tumbling onto his creased forehead. Stone ignored him. He scrambled off the ladder and rolled toward the fence, weapon in hand. He nudged his throbbing head above and spotted a single man loitering near the gate, grey-haired and roughly-dressed. He was carrying a satchel on his back, the flap open. There was a flaming torch planted in the snow. His hands were cupped around his mouth and he was barking threats and insults. He swayed as he cried out. He was not Triple Death and there were no vehicles of the Kiven gang anywhere in the street.

Stone saw movement in the shadows. He counted at least three men and several horses.

“Look at what you have done.” The words hissed from Shen’s mouth. “You are a wicked man.”

Stone glanced down at the old man. He should have been ashamed at leading such a poorly organised community. It had taken an eternity but, finally, the men and women standing around afraid were beginning to show some initiative. They gathered buckets from a storeroom, filled them with snow and headed for the blazing gate. It was all in vain, though. The gate would be down in a few minutes. Weapons were nervously readied.

Children continued to cry.

Stone’s head ached and spun. He could’ve picked off the man shouting outside with one bullet from his revolver. But he’d been shot. And he was in a foul mood. And he wanted them to know, whoever they were, that if they stayed and took him on then it would be a bloodbath.

He had to hit hard.

He switched the submachine gun onto full-auto, emerged at the top of the fence and spat a volley of bullets. The grey-haired man jerked. Pockets of blood erupted across his body. He was tossed onto his back, arms splayed.

There was a moment of hush.

Stone flicked the weapon onto semi-auto and twisted his aim. His targets were well concealed in the darkened street. He opened fire. Horses cried. Rifles and handguns cracked from broken buildings in retaliation.

He dropped from view and crawled along the platform as gunfire sprayed the top of the fence.

Timber exploded. Bullets whipped over him.

His skull spiked with pain. He spat a mouthful of bile and wiped the sweat from his drenched brow.

He dragged himself further along the scaffolding, then broke cover and fired again, the muzzle blazing, spraying bullets. He heard an anguished cry and saw a man drop from his saddle. He hit the snow-covered asphalt, riddled with blood patches.

“Stone.”

A blond-haired man stood at the bottom of the scaffolding. It was Travis, holding a bolt-action rifle.

“What can I do?”

Yuan called up at him. “Is it Triple Death?”

“It’s that girl’s fault,” shouted a voice, in the distance. “Give her to them.”

“Shut up,” shouted Travis, over his shoulder. “Stone? Tell us what to do.”

There was rapid movement in the street, a man with two pistols. Stone opened fire. Bullets pinged all around him, forcing the man back. The submachine gun clicked empty.

“You have opened up hell for us,” shouted Shen. “I will never forgive what you have done.”

“Stone,” called Yuan, pointing. “The gate.”

It made a terrible wrenching sound as it began to collapse.

Stone barked. “Get everyone with a weapon into a line. You have to stop them from getting in. Hit them with everything you have.”

The young man sprinted away.

“Yuan, get the children inside.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

Stone glared down at Shen.

“And you, you old bastard, go and find Cali. I need her with me.”

“I will not be …”

The gate splintered and buckled. Stone pulled out his revolver and took a deep breath.

“Get Cali,” he roared.

A man with a rifle fired from a broken doorway. There was a cry from inside the compound and a woman hit the ground, her face covered with blood. Stone fired twice, pushing him back into the shadows. Shots erupted in his direction. Keeping low, he edged back along the platform toward the ladder. He almost lost his balance as he landed with a heavy thud.

Hurriedly, he skirted the simmering remains of the gate, sought out the location of the rifleman and aimed his revolver.

He held his breath.

The rifleman sprang from cover and Stone squeezed the trigger, dropping him with a single headshot.

Travis herded a dozen armed adults toward the gate area and formed them into a nervous line, waiting for the assault.

But it didn’t come.

Stone peered along the street. The gunfire had tapered off. The raiders appeared to have fallen back for the moment.

They don’t have enough men to take the compound.

A voice suddenly called out, dry and scratchy.

“Let’s talk, big man.”

Stone recognised the accent. Fast, with a distinct curling lilt.

“Will you let me come out and talk?”

“Come out and I’ll put you down,” said Stone.

“What is happening?” said Shen. “Does he want to talk? I will talk to him. I am in charge here.”

Stone growled at him. “Go and find Cali.”

“I do not take orders from you.”

The man in the street cried out once more. “I just want to talk this out, so I do. Man to man.”

“You should have tried that first,” said Stone.

“Aye, well I told Connor not to torch the gate … but what’s done is done, big man.”

There was laughter from nearby. The horses stirred. Stone guessed there were two or three of them remaining.

“I only want to talk. Smooth out all this carry on.”

The fire was out but the gate was down, blackened and charred, and the compound was horribly exposed.

“I’m not a bad man. Sure, none of us are. We just get a wee bit excitable from time to time, so we do. Who do you think torched that vehicle, eh? Who do you think drove off that road gang? I’ll not have the likes of them coming into Batesville and picking on us locals.”

There was another peel of laughter.

“Well, big man? What about it?”

“OK,” shouted Stone.

“I will negotiate with him,” said Shen, defiantly, and strode forward. “I will reason with this man.”

Yuan rushed back, her face flushed.

“Stone, the children are safe inside.”

“Good, now get your idiot father out of here.”

She grabbed hold of him.

“Father, you must leave this …”

“This man does not speak for our people, Yuan. I was chosen to …”

“Let Stone handle this. Please, he is better at ...”

“No, I will …”

“Stop being so stubborn and get ....”

His hand flashed, her cheek stung. There were gasps. Yuan held her face. Travis broke away from the group he’d assembled.

“Travis,” shouted Stone. “Find Cali.”

The blond-haired man stood his ground. “He shouldn’t hit her.”

“Get Cali.”

“Have you forgotten about me?” said the man in the street. “Do you want me to kill the hostages I have?”

Yuan turned pale. “Hostages?”

“What is he saying?” said Shen.

She abandoned her father, ran toward the street. Stone held onto her and rolled her out of view.

He watched a man emerge from the shadows, walking slowly, a wide-brimmed hat perched on his head. The snow crunched beneath his boots and his left hand tugged at the reins of a horse, leading it forward.

He was tall and narrow, a good ten years older than Stone. He had stringy grey hair tied in a long ponytail and swept onto his chest. His face was heavily-lined and his beard was grey and white.

He tilted back his head, revealing red-rimmed eyes, and held up his right hand. It was empty.

“I’m unarmed, big man.”

Stone wiped the sweat from his bandaged head and kept scanning the surrounding buildings. Yuan huddled behind him, frustrated and impatient. She leaned into him. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against him.

“Bring out the hostages,” shouted Stone, lining up a shot.

“Gerry,” said the man in the hat. “Bring the wee fuckers out.”

A second man appeared out of the gloom, rugged and grey-haired and armed with a double-barrelled shotgun. He gestured with it and two shapes stumbled into a pool of moonlight.

They were children, only just, cheeks gaunt, bodies hollowed out. The boy had pale skin and light hair. The girl had olive skin and black hair. But the marks of cruelty, both old and new, looked the same.

Ankles and wrists manacled, they stood shivering in thin clothing, with no coats or shoes.

Rage surged through Stone.

“Suyin,” cried Yuan. “Stone, that’s my cousin, Suyin. That’s her, Stone. No, no, no. Suyin, no.”

Tears fell from her eyes. Stone pushed her back once more.

“Joe,” wailed a voice, and a fair-haired woman in her late thirties pushed her way forward. “My boy, Joe. Joe.”

She swayed on her feet.

“What have they done to my son?”

Stone looked around. Heads had dropped.

The woman raged at Shen, venom in her eyes. “I told you he didn’t run away. He was kidnapped. Damn you, Shen, damn you.”

The man in the hat took a few paces forward.

Stone saw two bodies draped across the horse he was leading. It was Bobby and Chuck.

“Aye, I’m Robert Reardon,” he said. “You’ll get your hostages in exchange for the bastard who killed my boys.”