Men of Truth (The Wasteland Soldier #4)

Tisha loosened her robe, nudged it off her shoulders and let it bunch on the floor. She padded across the candle-lit bedroom, naked, eighteen years old, gliding toward the bed, letting him see everything she had to offer, and giving him time to decide what he wanted and how he wanted it.

The man watched in silence, leaning back in a folding chair with his legs spread and his hands calmly resting on his knees. It had stopped raining but the wind still swirled and whistled. The adjacent rooms were silent. The girls had finished and gone home. It was the early hours of the morning, Panola was getting quiet, and he was the last customer of a long day.

He was an old man, wrinkled skin and long grimy hair in a ponytail. His clothes were dirty, his old boots mud-spattered and he carried the smell of liquor, tobacco and sweat. His eyes were red-rimmed. He had asked for her, and waited, even when other girls had become available, because she had come highly recommended.

Tisha sat on the corner of the bed, a few feet from him, and tried not to wrinkle her nose at his foul odour. She ran a hand through her brushed hair and trailed her fingers down her oval-shaped face, pouting. One finger caught her lower lip, exposing her teeth and the pink tip of her tongue. Her hands went lower, cupping her pert breasts, circling her nipples with long nails.

The man cleared his throat and took off his wide-brimmed hat, revealing a bald patch. She parted her legs and caressed her inner thighs, never taking her eyes from him. Her bush was dark, tangled. Her hand roamed further and she let out a sudden gasp as a finger slipped inside. She flicked out her tongue, offered him a sultry smile and gasped once more, waiting for him to undress or touch himself or even reach for her - but he was inert.

She rose, turned around and arched her back, displayed her fine ass, knowing it drove most of the men crazy. The old man did not respond. What the hell was his problem? It was time to whip it out and get to it. He’d wanted her. He’d waited for her.

Her hands danced across her curvy hips, then slapped her ass and clutched both cheeks.

“Aye, you’re a true beauty, so you are.” He does have a voice, she thought. “You have a fine body. But sit down for a moment.”

“Would you like me to sit on your lap?”

“The bed is just grand, girl.”

She leaned back on her arms, legs wide apart.

“You asked for me?”

“I did,” said the old man. “You see I was having some food earlier and I heard about this big shootout today.”

He rubbed his hands. “Shame I missed it, sounded very exciting.”

She looked at him. “It was horrible. Deano was killed.”

“Aye, well, I can understand a whore thinking that way.”

Tisha said nothing.

“I’m sorry, have I offended you? Dear God, I hope not. May the Lord forgive me for calling a whore a whore. But you are a whore, ain’t you, girl? Eh? Eh? You are a fucking whore, right?”

“Yes.”

He wiped a hand over his head, replaced his hat and smoothed back the flaps of his coat.

There was a shoulder-holster with a pistol slotted into it and a sheathed knife.

“Aye, that’s right girl, I have a gun and a knife. I want you to remember that. OK? Can you remember that?”

Tisha nodded.

“You saw it happen, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

He took a wanted poster from his coat, held it up.

“Was this the man who did all the shooting?”

She stared at it.

“Is this him?”

Tisha straightened her back, covered her chest, and nodded.

“He likes a bit of blood that fella. His name is Stone. Big bastard from across the water. You know where I mean? Of course you fucking don’t. Have you ever been out of this room? You don’t look like you have.”

He laughed.

“You see I have a score to settle with him. He murdered my sons. Bastard broke my heart, Tisha, so he did. He took the last of my family from me.”

Reardon stood.

“But I’m not sure one of your kind can understand the hurt I’m feeling.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “My kind?”

“Aye, girl.”

“A whore?”

“Colour kind, girl. See you’re very beautiful, so you are, but just not my particular shade. A bit too dark. I prefer the dusky ones. All said and done, mind, the fewer colours in the world, the better I feel about my day. Do you get what I’m saying, whore?”

Tisha blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be, love, don’t be.”

He stroked her hair, grinned a mouthful of black and brown teeth.

“It’s not your fault. The dice was rolled long ago. You can hardly stand in the rain and hope it washes off, can you?”

A chill raked her spine. Goose bumps erupted over her skin. She reached for her robe but he snatched it from her. He lifted her off the bed and roughly pushed her into the middle of the room. She had met his kind before. Men whose pleasure was to hurt. It didn’t matter what was said or what was done because a whore was only a whore and everyone knew they were not real people.

“I’m protected,” she said, defiantly. “Big Red will put his gun on you.”

“Aye,” said Reardon. “Well, I think Big Red might have problems of his own right now.”

The rain-spattered lamps swung and creaked in the wind. The flickering lights caught Big Red’s attention as he sat in his easy chair, frustrated. The dark-haired woman with the squat nose was pointing a pistol at him, eyes never leaving his craggy and agitated face. Big Red looked at her gun hand. It had not wavered once. She was a killer. He looked at the large wooden cross around her neck. She had a bloody nerve wearing that and playing a part in this mischief.

His partners sat either side of him, passive. The three of them could have taken her but she wasn’t alone. A stocky young man, obviously her son, stood at the end of the sidewalk, another gun on them. A third one was at the front door, a much older man, rough-faced and grey-haired, and holding a rifle.

Big Red reckoned the odds on getting at the three of them without blood was zero. He’d already seen Deano killed today. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. This gang knew what they were about. The ringleader had arrived first, asking for his best and most popular girl, Tisha, and more than patient to wait his turn. Big Red had been a little suspicious of the man then, there was something familiar about him, something nagging at the back of his head that wasn’t his wife’s voice, but by the time he came to realise the real identity of the old man it was too late; he and his partners had been ambushed and stripped of their weapons.

The Reardon gang had a terrible reputation on Panola – killing, raping, kidnapping and robbing – but they hadn’t been around for a time.

Big Red cursed himself and prayed for Tisha.

It was the early hours of the morning and Panola Avenue was ragged and jumbled and tired-looking. The stalls were long closed, even the Junk Men did not sell at this hour, but plenty of the food stands were still open for business, steam rising from pots and pans, lamps hanging from awnings, picking up the trade from the drinking houses and gambling dens. A few men were asleep in doorways and one man had collapsed drunk in the middle of the road. Someone was singing, badly, and a small group of men were having a heated confrontation that amounted to little more than posturing and finger pointing.

A knot of men and women stumbled by, talking loudly.

Big Red fidgeted and Michelle scuffed her boot to grab his attention, gesturing with her pistol.

“The Lord will decide when it’s your time,” she said.

The group went past, without stopping, and a woman pointed back, intrigued by the two bodies draped over a horse.

Big Red could hear the buzzing flies and smell the stinking corpses from where he sat.

Reardon hooded her. The rough material stretched across her face but there was a line of light at the bottom and Tisha glimpsed her feet on the floor. Her heart was beating fast. She had to calm down. She had dealt with men like him before and she wouldn’t be bullied or intimidated. But her stomach gurgled and she had the sudden urge to pee. No, she had to fight the fear, she wouldn’t be terrorised. He could ask his questions and fuck off.

He moved behind her, rough clothes scraping her bare skin. He pinned her arms, used a belt around her wrists.

“That’s a lot better.”

He slapped her arse. Hard. Her chest rose and fell. She continued to fight the urge to pee, squeezing her legs together. He was fiddling with something on her dressing table and her nostrils suddenly filled with the smell of tobacco. He had taken one of her hand-rolled cigarettes. A shiver went down her spine. Nakedness was increasing her sense of vulnerability. He knew what he was doing. He had done this kind of thing before.

She tuned into his footsteps. He was circling her, slowly, saying nothing, inhaling smoke. It made her feel a little off balance. She focused on the slim strip of light at the bottom of the hood.

“Your man of colour on the stall said the boys that got shot were in here. The girl outside told me your man, Kody, got first pick. That makes him crew leader. And he chose you.”

He paced around her.

“Did you fuck Kody?”

His voice was horrible.

“I didn’t know his name. That’s the first time I’ve heard it. I asked him his name but he didn’t …”

“Shut up,” shouted Reardon.

He was moving around her quicker. She hoped he would get dizzy, keel over and have a heart attack.

“The crew leader was named Kody. Why did Stone kill Kody?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know these people.”

Round and round.

“You don’t know.”

Drops of urine squeezed out, trickled down her leg.

“You don’t fucking know.”

Round and round and …

“We were fucking,” she said, raising her voice. Her bladder emptied. “We were fucking.”

He stopped.

She heard him drag on the cigarette.

“That’s quite a mess, girl. Are you OK?”

She knew it was a trick.

She kept silent.

He moved toward her.

“Are you OK?”

His rough hands scraped around her neck. The bag tightened. The light disappeared.

She breathed hard, tasting stale fabric.

“OK?”

“Yes.”

She heard a creak, he was sitting down. Her thighs were sticky. She was shaking again.

“Did you know the four boys were from Kiven?”

“Yes.”

“Why were they in Batesville? Were they looking for Stone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stone is a wanted man. There’s a reward on his head. Were the boys hunting him down?”

“I don’t know anything about Stone. I don’t know why this happened. Please, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

Silence.

She waited.

The silence continued.

Had he gone? She hadn’t heard him leave. No, it’s a trick. She strained to hear and picked out his breathing.

“Kody came in and we had sex. He said he was in charge of a dozen vehicles and had sent them off in different directions across the wasteland. They were hunting for some people. Then he left.”

There was another patch of silence.

She took a deep breath.

“Please untie me. I’ve told you everything I know.”

Silence.

“I don’t know anything else.”

She wanted Big Red to barge right in and put a few rounds in the old bastard’s head.

Where was he?

“Aye,” said Reardon. “You don’t know anything else.”

The chair creaked. He was on his feet again.

“You colour bitches are born fucking liars, so you are. Are you the scum I went to war for? They put a slingshot in my hands and a fucking uniform on my back and told me to kill. And for what? For the likes of you?”

She heard the squeak of his shoulder-holster, the cocking of the pistol.

“I don’t know anything.”

She was crying now.

She took a step back, feet in urine.

“Wait, he mentioned something about where they were going.”

“Did he now? And where would that be?”

“Silver Road.”

She tensed, lip quivering, limbs shaking, ready for the gunshot. But then he spoke, softer this time.

“I’ve heard of that place. Special town down south. Just for special people. Not for the likes of me or colour like you.”

“Kody said they were heading there after Batesville. He said they were on the hunt for a guy and a girl who’d ripped off the gang.”

“Ripped them off? What are you talking about?”

“He said they stole money and Kody had come into the wasteland to track them down.”

Reardon scratched his beard, holstered his pistol and loosened the belt around her wrists.

“Stolen money, eh? So that’s what the shootout was about. Now that is very interesting, so it is.”

He took off her hood, patted her bare ass.

“Much obliged, darling. May the Lord keep you well.”

Sullivan opened the door for him. “Anything?”

“We’ll talk on the road.”

Reardon dropped to a crouch beside Big Red.

“Your whore was very helpful.”

“You bastard, Reardon. Did you hurt her?

“I didn’t have to. She did it all herself. But you …”

He lunged forward, driving his blade into Big Red’s neck. Declan fired, two shots, taking out the man on the right. He tumbled from his chair. Michelle swivelled and shot the one on the left, a single round between the eyes.

Reardon twisted the knife, eyes calm, face showing nothing. He yanked it free and Big Red dropped, arms flapping.

Michelle made the sign of the cross. Reardon wiped his blade clean on one of the big coats.

“The good old days,” he said.

Laughing, they rustled up the horses and melted into darkness. Tisha heard them gallop away and nudged open the front door.

She screamed.