Men of Truth (The Wasteland Soldier #4)
Chapter 11

He spoke fast with a curling lilt to his tone. His right hand hung from his belt where Stone glimpsed a holstered gun and a sheathed knife. He wore a jacket, a shirt and a pair of trousers. The clothes were homespun. The same material and style they’d seen worn by most of the men and women in Yuan’s community. It was possible he was from there but a more than casual glance showed the sizes were a little off. The jacket was short in the arms, the trousers short in the leg, the shirt tight across the chest. The guy was either an idiot or the clothes had been stolen in a hurry.

“Just out stretching my legs.” He drew on his cigarette. “Thought I’d stop and greet you both.”

He paused.

“You don’t see many new people in Batesville. Least I don’t. I’m not bothering you none, am I?”

“No,” said Cali.

“Good, good. I’m Bobby. You got names? Yes? No? Ah, well, no it is. Never mind, eh?”

“Cali.”

“Hello to yourself, Cali. You’ve a damn pretty name for such a pretty girl, so you have.”

He let out a stream of smoke, winked at Stone.

“Tagged a decent one there, mister. Fair play to you, big man.”

He chuckled.

His right hand twitched.

“Aye, well I’d best leave you to it. I’m going for my breakfast. You know, down at the compound.”

He glanced around the ruined store, licked his lips.

“They have eggs. And meat. I’m not sure what the meat is but it’s definitely meat. They serve the best breakfast in Batesville. And the best coffee. Mind, it’s the only breakfast in Batesville, so it is.”

He chuckled once more followed by the twitching of his right hand.

“You live at the compound?” asked Cali.

“No, miss, no, no, I don’t fit in there.” He grinned. “I’m not the right colour. Do you know what I mean? I’m a bit pale, so I am. No, I’m only messing with you. They accept anyone down there. They host a big breakfast thing and everyone in the city is invited. They put up signs, you know, trying to encourage us all together. Generous of them, so it is. But not that many show up.”

Bobby cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you join me?”

“Nah, that’s OK, man.”

“Come on, it’ll be grand. You can bring your Da, if you like.”

Cali half-smiled.

“They’re a friendly bunch, you know. I always eat on my own, so I do. Be nice to have some company.”

“She said no.”

Bobby stared at Stone for a short time. Then came the chuckle and the right hand twitch.

“Ah, well, I understand, I understand. I’m the same. Going off with strangers isn’t a wise thing. You should listen to your Da, Miss Cali.”

“He’s not my …”

“Always listen to your Da. Have to careful around strangers.”

“You know it,” she said.

“Aye.”

He dropped his cigarette, twisted his boot over it.

“Are you from one of the other communities?” he asked.

“Sort of,” said Stone.

“Batesville has a lot of folk scattered around in little groups. Would be better if they were all together, I suppose. Safety in numbers, eh?”

There was a pause.

Bobby let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I’d better get going.”

“You do that,” said Stone.

“Aye, otherwise those yellow fuckers will eat all the good stuff.”

He took a few paces back.

“I mean, they might run out of food and want to eat me.”

Chuckle and twitch.

“Better get off then.”

Stone narrowed his eyes. “You really should.”

“Aye, aye, I should.”

There was a pause.

He still hadn’t left.

The wind whistled along the avenue. The sun climbed in the sky.

“You’ll die first, Bobby,” said Stone. “And then Cali will kill your partner out back. Walk away, boy.”

Bobby stared back at him. The smile drained away. Spite filled his eyes. Cali saw the outline of a younger man creeping at the back of the store. It was Chuck.

She tensed.

“Is that what you want?” said Stone.

Bobby grinned, flashing a row of brown teeth. “Give us the fucking whore, old man, or you’ll be ...”

Stone didn’t wait for the chuckle or the twitch. He drew his revolver, squeezed the trigger and shot him. But Bobby knew the old man was going to take him down and shifted his feet as the bullet angled across the tight space. It missed his head by inches and burrowed into the meat of his shoulder. Blood spurted and ran down his arm. His own gun was in his fist, his mouth twisted in a pain-ridden snarl. His revolver flared and the bullet chewed into the wall behind where Stone had been standing.

There was a boom from the back of the store, the unmistakable blast from a shotgun. Wood and plaster shattered.

Cali slammed against the counter, pistol held with both hands, lined up the second man in her sights and fired off a volley of shots.

“Chuck,” shouted Bobby, seeing his brother punched flat on his back, the shotgun skating from his grip.

Cali could see someone else out back, possibly a third gunman. She dropped, rolled around the side of the counter and aimed her weapon.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Stone.”

But Stone still had Bobby to finish off. He shot the blond-haired man twice more, drilling both bullets into his chest. Blood erupted and Bobby staggered and squeezed off a shot. The handgun bucked and Stone rocked backward, slammed into the wall, his scalp erupting with fire. He slid to the floor. Rivulets of blood trickled down his face. He threw himself sideways, onto his left side, and fired a fourth bullet into Bobby. The young man jerked and folded against the floor, wretched sobs escaping from his lips.

Stone crawled forward and pushed himself onto his feet. He bore down on Bobby. The young man was taking short raspy breaths and dragging himself toward his gun. Stone lifted his boot and stamped down hard on Bobby’s hand, grinding flesh and bone.

He howled, and pulled his hand back. Stone raised his revolver and placed a shaky finger against the trigger.

Then a voice cried out.

Two words.

“Let me!”

Only it wasn’t Cali.

An olive-skinned girl emerged, dark-eyed and black-haired, and she reminded him of Yuan. She wore a long coat and large black boots and a leather collar was fitted around her throat with a length of rope tied to it, dangling loose on the floor. There was a sign hanging around her neck.

A scrawled word: WHORE.

“That asshole was holding onto her,” said Cali. She saw Stone’s face dripping with blood. “Oh, fuck.”

His breathing was laboured. He was sweating heavily. But he held his ground and wiped the blood from his eyes. The dark-haired girl extended her hand and he guessed she had to be the missing cousin. What had Yuan called her? The name eluded him for the moment.

Her eyes pleaded with him. Let me! The coat gaped and Stone saw she was naked and starved beneath it.

He nodded, stepped back. The girl scooped up Bobby’s handgun.

“No,” said Bobby, lying in a pool of blood.

“Take that fucker out,” yelled Cali.

Bobby choked.

His eyes flooded with tears.

He began to plead for his life.

“I’m sorry. It was me Da. He told us what to do. We’re his boys. I’m sorry. We liked you the best.”

But the girl had no answer for him because she had used her last two words and they had been the best words because they’d belonged to her and her alone and now she was in control.

She unbuckled the collar with her left hand and it snaked onto the floor. She lifted the sign over her head, threw it at him.

“Chucky Chuck,” he sobbed. “Chucky Chuck Chuck.”

“What are you waiting for?” shouted Cali. “Shot that cocksucker.”

The girl suddenly thrust the muzzle into her mouth.

“No,” screamed Cali.

Blood and tissue sprayed the wall. The revolver clattered loudly as it fell. Bobby blinked, stunned.

She lay a few feet away, eyes wide open, staring at him.

He began to laugh.

Cali fired but Stone pushed her arm away and the bullet smacked into an overhead beam.

“What the fuck, man?”

He growled. “Get the rope from my pack.”

Stone took out his flask, feeling nauseous, and drank until it was empty, whiskey spilling onto his bloodstained beard.

Cali rushed to him, holding the rope.

“We need to stitch that head.”

“It can wait. Tie his hands.”

Cali pinned Bobby’s arms behind his back and belted his wrists with the collar that had been used on the girl. Stone made a noose and tightened it around Bobby’s neck. He dragged the young man onto his feet. Bobby kicked out but he was no match for them. He was ashen-faced and dying from the gunshots wounds and his boots slipped in his own blood. Stone dragged him outside and Cali followed, clutching the sign in her hand.

The red-scarred blue sky was intensely bright after the store. Stone was feeling dizzy but he had to finish this. Batesville had to know the taste of violent justice. He scanned the avenue and spotted a rusted iron post. He tugged Bobby across the snow-smeared asphalt, leaving a trail of blood.

“I need me Da … get me Da … you fucking bastards … you killed Chuck … Chuck, Chucky!”

Stone tossed one end of the rope over the post. Cali stood with him. They pulled together.

Bobby’s boots lifted off the sidewalk. “Me Da will gut you … you’re dead … you’re fucking dead.”

Blood streamed from his multiple wounds. They tied off the rope. He twisted and turned.

“Write the word,” said Stone.

Cali turned the sign over and plucked out her thick pencil. She wrote and hung it around his neck.

Bobby fought it, for a few seconds, and then his head drooped forward and his boots stopped jerking.

Stone leaned against Cali. Desperately, she said, “We need to get back to the compound.”

“What about the wanted poster?”

“Fuck worrying about that,” she said.

She guided him along the avenue. Behind them, the sign flapped in the wind.

One newly scrawled word: RAPER.