Men of Truth (The Wasteland Soldier #4)

He threw open the hall door, marched back inside.

Women stood in small groups, furrowed brows and coffee, the blame squarely on the painted girl. Strutting around with her skin exposed, talking with that city attitude, flirting with the musicians and driving childish men stupid with lust. It was all down to her. A lone voice of balance was crushed. Only bile mattered. The men knew to keep silent. They nursed hangovers, scratched at bearded jaws and stared with bleary eyes, wondering if they would be fed any breakfast.

The old hall looked on, and reflected with a raised eyebrow.

Dozens of eyes turned on Stone, instinctively, but when they saw who it was they looked in another direction. He weaved around the cooking fires and women stripping off bedding. A tiny girl with unruly red hair poked her tongue at him and ran off. Two men blocked his path and muttered that he was no longer welcome here. They were unable to make eye contact and Stone shouldered through them. The two men shrank away and several women shook their heads with disgust.

A hanging lamp burned weakly in the corridor. He passed the male washroom. It was silent. He reached the chamber Jeremiah and Cali had shared. The Brotherhood had removed the old man’s body but the four dead attackers remained. He guessed they would be disposed of soon enough. There was blood on the floor and splashed on the walls.

“What do you want?”

There was venom in the words. She was kicking around in the corridor and came out of the shadows to confront him. There was no flesh on show and no paint on her lips or around her eyes. Her skin had looked flawless last night, sparkling in the lamps that hung around the hall, but this morning it had a raw look, with rashes of pimples, and there was a brown spot close to her mouth that Stone understood was known as a beauty spot.

She was dressed for the road with her long black hair tucked into the hood of her coat.

“Yeah, I’m outta here, just like you. Why didn’t you save him? You were supposed to protect us. They said you were dead. You pretty much acted it. What the fuck am I going to do now?”

He said nothing, stepped into the room. There were rumpled blankets, the remains of a small fire, a piss pot, empty bottles and food stained bowls. He crouched beside one of the bodies. The man was in his twenties, eyes open, a gaping bullet hole in his skull. He wore fingerless gloves with a triple dagger emblem stitched into them. Stone lifted up the man’s shirt and saw gang ink across his torso.

“These men are from Kiven.”

“And?”

He picked up the weapon; a long round handle, three entwined blades.

“Triple Death.”

He got to his feet, discarded the knife.

“A street gang.”

“And?”

“They dominate the drug trade in your city. I learnt that much when I was there.”

She jutted out her chin.

“And?”

“What did they want with you and Jeremiah?”

Cali folded her arms. “You know what they wanted. They saw me dancing and wanted to rape me.”

“They weren’t here last night.”

“How do you know? You weren’t even watching me. Sweetness is what they were after, man. They saw me, thought they could grab it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? You don’t think so?” Her head rocked, hands flared. “What the fuck do you know about anything, mister? I stuck that motherfucker and he died with his cock hanging out. They wanted me. You said you would do the killing for us so where were you? I’m talking to you, asshole. Don’t look away from me. He wanted you to protect us. I can’t believe this has happened. You’re a fucking asshole, man, a fucking ...”

He slapped her.

Cali lifted a hand to her stinging cheek.

A knife flashed. Stone had to admire her speed. The weapon must have been inside her sleeve because in a blink of an eye it was there in her palm. She slashed toward his face. He jerked back, snapped out a long arm, caught her wrist, and twisted her around, pushing her arm up her back. She stamped against his shin, rammed an elbow into his gut. He grunted but she wasn’t strong enough to stop him from levering the blade out of her grip. It clattered on the floor. He spun her around and she threw her left fist at him. He took the punch. He’d let her have that for the slap. Words spilled from her mouth, hate and pain, until the rage burned out and tears bubbled against her eyelashes.

“What am I going to do now?”

“Jeremiah had a map to Silver Road. Follow it. That’s what you’re going to do.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to go there.”

Stone picked up her knife, handed it to her. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Maybe Triple Death came for you,” she said.

“The gangs think I’m dead.”

“Why?”

“They just do. Besides, Triple Death is the one gang the League of Restoration has no dealings with.”

He thought for a moment.

“Did Jeremiah tell you about Chan-pu?”

“Who?”

“Chan-pu. The Pathfinder.”

“He told me shit.”

Stone looked into her eyes.

“What are you hiding?”

“My grandfather is dead. You feel me? Back up from me, man.”

“Your grandfather? Bullshit.”

“Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. I don’t care about any of it. He promised me it would be OK. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

She was tightening, winding herself inward.

“Where is it?” said Stone. “That’s what I heard. What were they looking for?”

“Get away from me.”

“Why don’t you tell me …?”

She screeched. Her voice fetched the Brothers rushing into the corridor for the second time that morning.

There were mysteries in the second-world. Stone had seen healers save lives with touch. He’d seen men survive the cutting edge of a sword blade and vanish into thin air. He’d seen metal weapons that flew through the sky. But he was a solid, practical and even thinking man, happy to ignore the unfathomable. The Muscane was one of many puzzles in the second-world. When they urged him to leave he did so, without fight or protest, and that was strange because he wanted to fight and he wanted to protest.

When a hand pressed against his arm, he shook compliance from his thoughts, and rage overwhelmed him. He swung for the man, grasping him around the throat and flinging him against the wall, squeezing down.

Brother Finley’s oversized eyes stared back at him. Stone immediately released his grip.

He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You have to leave. Both of you.”

The order came from one of the Elder Brothers.

Finley watched the great warrior trudge away, followed by the dark-haired girl, and he drove his teeth into his lips.

It’s not fair, he thought, it’s not fair.

* * *

Cali stared, nearly open-mouthed.

The landscape was ruined, flattened and rusted, skulking beneath untidy layers of white. She’d arrived at night with Jeremiah and the nameless town had been shrouded in darkness. In the glare of daylight she saw how bleak and without possibilities it was.

Stone watched her for a moment.

“You have two choices,” he said. “You can go back inside and beg the Brotherhood to let you stay. They might now that I’ve gone. But tonight, without Jeremiah around, without me in there, you’ll be raped. You might take a few of them out but the men will keep coming. And it will happen again and again until the women get sick of it and they’ll slit your windpipe and throw your body out into the snow.”

He reached into his pocket, took out a short telescope, expanded it, swept the snow-packed northern horizon.

“Or you can head back to Kiven. It might take five or six days on foot. Or more. You’ll probably die of cold or hunger. But if that doesn’t take you out there are gangs of marauders between here and the city. They survive on people. You’ll be captured. You’ll be raped. And then you’ll be eaten.”

She clasped her hands against her cheeks, in mock fear.

“Oh, no. I need a third choice. Will you be my third choice, Mr Hero? Will you take me with you and protect me?”

Her black eyes burned at him.

“Motherfucking asshole. Go fuck yourself.”

Stone pocketed his telescope. “What did Jeremiah mean about me taking his place?”

Cali laughed. “Nah, not you, man, never a dude like you. I sat in all those bars with Jeremiah and listened to all those stories about how this great soldier waved his balls at the League. Maybe you ain’t him. Maybe the real soldier is dead because you’re just a nasty fucked up … you just … you ain’t him. You ain’t a protector of weak people. I was wrong about you. You ain’t …”

Her insults tailed off as she looked around once more.

“I’m making a third choice.”

This time her voice was devoid of bitterness or teasing. She appeared genuinely troubled by the stark surroundings.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

“You’ll protect me.”

“I’m an asshole. I won’t.”

“I’ll honour Jeremiah’s deal if you take me to the town of Silver Road.”

“You have nothing to trade.”

“I have two things to trade. One, I can tell you where the Pathfinder is.”

“You don’t know where he is.”

“Jeremiah told me.”

Stone looked into her eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“Take me with you. It’s what you do.”

“Not anymore.”

He walked away and she shouted after him. “I told you I sat with Jeremiah and listened to all those stories about you.”

He called back. “Never trust bar stories.”

“You did things you didn’t have to do. You killed men who were wicked and cruel. You protected people. No motive. No agenda. You just did the right thing.”

He left his prints in the snow. Cali shook with rage.

“What is it with you?”

She stamped after him. He whirled round.

“What was number two?”

“Two,” she said. “Two is that I know you’re alive and I’m happy to keep that information to myself.”

“You’d never make it back to Kiven to tell anyone otherwise.”

She glanced at the revolver tucked into his belt.

She narrowed her eyes. “Would you use that on me?”

He ignored her question. A chill went down her spine.

“Who was Jeremiah? Who was he really? And who are you?”

She wet her lips. It was her turn to fall silent.

“What’s so damn important about Silver Road?”

She shrugged.

“A safer place for me than Kiven.”

“Right.”

Cali’s eyes suddenly lit up. She pointed at him. “You found the vehicle they came in, didn’t you? Sweet.”

She offered him a half-smile.

“I met Chan-pu once. He was in the city. I know what the fella looks like. You need me.”

He let out a frustrated grunt. She had a manoeuvre for everything. She played every card, rolled all the dice, bluffing or not. But he was no closer to getting back to Nuria than the day the bridges had fallen. He beckoned with his head and she followed him to the buggy. He tossed his equipment onboard, climbed in, and gunned the engine to life.

She scrambled in beside him.

“But you don’t hit me again. Or it’ll be me cutting your throat in the night. You feel me, old man?”

“It was a slap.”

“You like slapping girls?”

Stone put his foot against the gas pedal.

“Only girls full of shit.”