No Way Back: A Sheriff Duke Story (Forgotten Fallout Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  Fuck it. He had given the key to Proxima in good faith, and they had repaid it by returning it to the door and opening the portal in his backyard.

  Heart pounding, he grabbed the rod, pulling forcibly to disconnect it. There was no change in the portal, but the LED on the key flashed red and then went dark.

  Hayden shoved it into a pocket, staring at the portal for a moment before turning around and heading back to Max.

  There was nothing else to do now but wait.

  Chapter 23

  “Looks like there’s a town up ahead,” Isaac said.

  “Sure does,” Dutch replied. He leaned back and pounded on the top of the stagecoach to get Camila’s attention. “Cammy, we’ve got a settlement up ahead.”

  The door opened and Camila leaned her head out, looking past the team of horses into the distance. They had spent the last few days crossing mostly dirty, dusty and rarely used trails as they moved through small abandoned towns. The smoke rising from one of the buildings proved this wasn’t another one of those.

  “Do you think they have booze?” she asked.

  “Like you can feel it anyway,” Dutch replied. “Orsk will filter it right out of you.”

  “If you down it fast enough, you can get a little buzzed for about twenty seconds.” When Isaac looked back at her, she smiled warmly at him. “How are you enjoying the front seat?”

  “Not bad,” Isaac replied. “I appreciate the fresh air and the freedom,” he said, rubbing his bare wrists. It had taken a couple of days, but Camila finally trusted him enough to remove the cuffs completely.

  Was it a mistake?

  Isaac still wasn’t sure. Before he left Dugway, he never entertained the idea of following the alien and man who had murdered his son. But then he experienced what this world had to offer. He had seen how people lived. Hayden and Natalia had shown him there were good people left on this new Earth, but the situation with Proxima and with the Relyeh and Axon had shown him how tenuous and fragile their way of life was. Maybe Hayden thought he was making progress in his efforts to restore some kind of civility to humankind. But at the end of the day, everything he was working so hard to build was like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest breath from the other factions vying for the planet.

  Which side did he want to be on?

  Shurrath’s side? It seemed wrong. It felt wrong. A betrayal of his family. Of Amanda. The Relyeh had sent the trife. Shurrath was a Relyeh. It should have been that simple. But years...centuries had passed. His family was dust. Gone. But he was still here.

  For now.

  Stern told him he had a brain tumor, and while he didn’t believe it at the time, what he had seen on the recordings of the facility proved it. He was immune to Axon neural disruption because he was damaged goods, and sooner or later he would die.

  Except he was certain a khoron could fix the damage. And even if it couldn’t, he was willing to bet Shurrath could. The real question was, could he? If Shurrath wanted him for his immunity, what would he do when he realized it was all for nothing? He would have little use for Isaac then.

  Was it worth the risk? Was it worth switching sides to survive?

  Was survival enough?

  He had to keep telling himself it was. He had to keep trying to convince himself. If he couldn’t, he would never convince Camila.

  “We’re supposed to keep moving,” Dutch said. “Straight through, no more delays. Sheriff’s on our tail.”

  “I’m not worried about the sheriff,” Camila replied. “If he makes it across the border, he’ll have a lot more to contend with than just us.”

  “I don’t think trife can stop him,” Isaac said. “He knows how to deal with them.”

  “It’s not only trife. He might have people organized up north, but down south here anything goes. We’ll make sure he gets a nice greeting if he shows up here.”

  “How do you mean that?”

  “Money talks, Ike. We’ll put a price on his head and make sure everyone around here knows it.”

  Isaac smiled externally, while internally his blood ran cold. Could he do what it would take to be loyal to Shurrath? Hayden was going through all of this for him. “He’s going to kill a lot of them,” he replied.

  “I don’t give a fuck if he kills all of them,” Camila said. “That’s not the point. He’s dead one way or another. There are too many of us for one man to destroy what Shurrath has built. Don’t forget that.”

  Could she see the doubt on his face? He looked away. It was taking all of his will to stay in the right mindset. He had to keep questioning his loyalty to continue convincing Camila he was firmly with them.

  The past was dead. Shurrath was the future. He wished he could change that, but it was what it was.

  He looked back at Camila. “Maybe I can buy you a drink?”

  “You don’t have any notes. I’ll buy you one.”

  “Deal.”

  “You can both buy me one,” Dutch said. “Matthias, you want a free drink?” he shouted to the man sitting on the back of the stagecoach, watching the rear.

  “Fuck yeah!” Matthias replied.

  “There you have it,” Dutch said, laughing.

  Isaac laughed with him.

  The coach continued for another couple of kilometers. Isaac watched the town growing on the horizon. It wasn’t anything fancy—a single upright three-story building surrounded by shanties, lean-tos, and tents amidst the rubble of the rest of the original architecture—the makeshift enclosures casting a filthy, rainbow-colored hue against the horizon.

  They were still a klick outside the village when Isaac noticed movement from the solitary building. A modbox and a pair of motorcycles swung around from the back of the structure, accelerating toward them.

  “Matthias,” Camila said. “Get ready, in case they aren’t friendly.”

  “I’m already ready,” Matthias replied.

  Isaac could hear Camila release the safety on her rifle. She didn’t quite trust him enough to give him a gun yet, so he remained an observer.

  The modbox and bikes pulled to a stop halfway between them and the town, parking horizontally to block the path ahead. The coach could easily go off the road to maneuver around them, but what would be the point?

  The riders dismounted from the bikes. Three villagers climbed out of the car. They were all armed, carrying hunting rifles and shotguns. Simple weapons that wouldn’t stand up against the military-grade weaponry Camila and the others were carrying.

  “Whoa!” Dutch said, pulling on the reins and bringing the horses to a stop a dozen meters from the barricade.

  Camila opened the door and dropped to the ground. Isaac watched the expressions on the villager’s faces at her appearance. Distracted already. He glanced down at Camila as she came up beside him, holding her rifle out to him.

  “Take it,” she said. He hesitated half a breath before collecting the rifle. “If they try to hurt me, you know what to do.” She started forward again. One of the villagers did the same, intending to meet her in the middle.

  She was putting a lot of trust in him. He could shoot her in the back without a second thought. If he was quick enough, he could take out Dutch and Matthias and get the hell out of there. Maybe he could even use the notes she claimed to have to buy one of the motorcycles and race back the way they had come until he intercepted Hayden.

  “You point that thing anywhere but at your feet before you need to, and I’ll put a spear through your skull,” Dutch said beside him, ending that line of thinking.

  Isaac glanced over at the driver. He had a sidearm in one hand, a microspear in the other. He wasn’t fucking around.

  “You don’t trust me?” Isaac asked.

  Dutch laughed. “No. If it were up to me, you’d still be chained up in the cabin. Cammy’s got a soft spot for you.”

  “What about Orsk?”

  “Probably just likes it.”

  “Likes what?”

  “Eyes front, Ike,” Dutc
h replied.

  Isaac watched Camila. She was too far away for him to hear what she was saying, but he could tell by her body language things were going well. Her laughter rose up high enough to make it back to them, and then she shook hands with the villager and started back to the coach.

  “Well?” Dutch asked.

  Camila was smiling. “They have booze.”

  Chapter 24

  The saloon was on the south side of the main building, beside the ramp leading into the underground parking garage. It occupied half of the ground floor, which was used as more of a communal social area than a bar. But there was a bar, though it only served a cheap moonshine the self-named Justice of the town distilled in the back corner of the place behind a padlocked gate. She charged a single note for a container of the swill, no matter what size of container you brought up to the bar—within reason. The residents already knew what within reason meant, and the ones who could afford the booze were prepared with an assortment of jugs, mugs, cups, buckets, cans and anything else that could hold liquid without leaking.

  Camila had bought three hammered steel cups from the town’s blacksmith, who had a position of favor as one of the other three stores within the ground floor of the main building. He was an unsurprisingly muscular man who made most of his living repairing horseshoes, farm tools and fishing gear. Isaac hadn’t noticed a body of water anywhere near the village, but Justice Wall explained it was about ten klicks east, and that a group of townspeople made the trip daily to bring back fish to barter. All told, it was an impressive, self-contained ecosystem that seemed to be working for the nearly one thousand residents of the town which was of course named Walton.

  Not that Justice Barbara Wall was the first Wall. The town had been founded by her grandfather, who had led a group of survivors south across the border in search of a relatively safe place to start a community after being chased out of their prior area by trife. To hear Justice Wall tell it, her grandfather Jacob was the descendant of a Space Marine Colonel who missed the flight off-world.

  The only thing Justice Wall liked better than drinking was talking.

  Walton wasn’t a high-traffic location for travelers, but because Camila had flashed a stack of notes at the guard—a man named Jesse who met them outside of town. Justice Wall had introduced herself the moment the group entered the settlement.

  She and Jesse both sat at the table with Camila, Matthias, Dutch and Isaac. She had retrieved a vintage bottle of wine from her apartments on the third floor of the building and was doing her best to convince Camila to take one of their motorcycles off her hands. She hardly ever needed to send Jesse and the Gang out to meet strangers so she didn’t need two, and two thousand was a more than fair asking price, wasn’t it?

  The money Isaac had seen consisted of scraps of paper with a USSF stamp on it. As long as it had a stamp it had value, and he had a feeling if he searched hard enough he would find a seal somewhere in the coach or on Camila’s body. It meant that as long as they could find pieces of paper and tear them up, they essentially had access to unlimited funds, and that made any price fair.

  But Camila had no use for a motorcycle. She had the coach and horses.

  “There has to be something you need,” Justice Wall said. “We’ve got guns we could spare.”

  “What are you going to do with all the notes anyway?” Dutch asked. “It seems like you’re doing fine already.”

  “There’s another village twenty kilometers south of here,” Wall replied. “They have a couple of spare hydropanels and a solar array I’ve had my eye on for a while.”

  “Why don’t you just take what you want?” Matthias asked.

  “They’re three times our size. We don’t have enough people. That’s why we don’t need as many guns as we have. But if I can get enough notes, I can probably convince them to part with the gear, and they can find another community to buy something else from. Everybody always needs something out here.”

  “Then why don’t you kill us and take the notes?” Matthias asked.

  Camila glared at him, but Justice Wall laughed. “My family didn’t settle here to become a den of thieves and murderers. We’ll do it fair, or we won’t do it at all.”

  “You don’t believe in violence?” Camila asked.

  “I didn’t say that. But to meet travelers and then turn on them?” She shook her head. “No gracias.”

  “Because there is something you can do for me to earn two thousand,” Camila continued. “Well, two things.”

  Justice Wall’s face perked up, and she smiled. “I thought there would be. Name it.”

  “We went up north to rescue Ike here,” Camila said. “He was captured by one of the deputies in the United Western Territories. Are you familiar with them?”

  “I’ve heard rumors about them. They say the Warlord there is very powerful. And very strict. Why’d they take you?”

  Isaac opened his mouth, trying to come up with an excuse. Camila cut him off before he could speak.

  “They said he attacked a young girl there.”

  “Bullshit,” Isaac said.

  “Exactly,” Camila replied. “He’s innocent.”

  “Even if he wasn’t, so what?” Jesse said. “It ain’t another man’s right to decide what a free man can and can’t do. She didn’t want to get attacked; she should have run away or fought back. Otherwise, she gets what’s coming to her.”

  Isaac fought to hide his disgust at the comment. He could tell Camila was doing the same.

  “Anyway, we’re bringing Ike south to get away from their so-called justice. I think you of all people understand.”

  Justice Wall smiled. “I do.”

  “But the UWT is sending one of its men after us. A man named Sheriff Duke. He’s their best hunter, and we could use a little help dealing with him.”

  “One man?” Jesse asked.

  “That’s right,” Camila replied. “Two thousand notes if you kill him. Up front.”

  Justice Wall’s eyes practically burst from her head. “Up front?”

  “We can’t afford to stick around, and I want you to be fairly paid. Don’t worry. We’ll know if you did the job or not and we’ll be back if you don’t.”

  Wall smiled. “What’s the second thing?”

  “I want use of your apartment for my crew and me.”

  “Consider it done. Do you want anything else with it?” She looked at Isaac. “We have young girls here if that’s what you like. It’ll cost extra, but they’ll be worth it.”

  “No gracias,” Isaac said, feeling sick.

  “Well, just let me or Jesse know if you change your mind. Another drink?”

  Camila smiled. “Sure. One more round, and then we should retire for the night.”

  Justice Wall poured them what was left in the old wine bottle, skipping Isaac. He had accepted the first pour Camila offered, but he didn’t have a khoron to sober him up again.

  “Matthias, go out to the coach and retrieve the notes,” Camila said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Matthias replied. He swigged his wine and then left the saloon, making his way past the other villagers coming and going from the open room.

  “To new friends,” Justice Wall said.

  “To new friends,” Camila repeated. Then she downed the wine.

  Matthias returned less than a minute later, carrying an old leather briefcase. He put it on the table and Camila flipped the latches open, revealing hundreds of stamped notes inside.

  “There’s probably more than two thousand in here,” she said. “You’re welcome to count it, but me and my crew are heading upstairs.”

  Justice Wall stared at the notes. “Jesse, why don’t you bring that out to the Gang and have them help you count it? I’ll show Camila and her people up to my place.”

  “Yes’m, Justice,” Jesse replied. He closed the briefcase and latched it again.

  “So glad you happened our way,” Justice Wall said, smiling at Camila. “Follow me.”

  C
hapter 25

  Justice Wall took Isaac and the others up to the third floor using an emergency stairwell in the corner of the building. The stairs had been carpeted as some point, a deep red that showed signs of wear and stains of what could have been water or blood in spots near the landings. Isaac glanced at Camila when he noticed it, but she didn’t seem affected.

  The Justice pulled a keyring from her pocket when they reached the top of the stairs, using it to unlock a pair of deadbolts on the steel door.

  “You don’t trust your people not to steal from you?” Isaac asked.

  “We used to have problems,” she replied, eyes momentarily shifting to the stains on the carpet. “We don’t have problems anymore. Now, it’s more of a habit.”

  She pushed the door open. The floor was still segmented like the office building it was, with multiple spaces arranged around a central corridor that branched left and right from the stairs. This floor was carpeted too, the walls plastered in all kinds of random artwork, from photographs to oil paintings to a poster of a kitten hanging from a tree, with the caption Oh, Shit!. Some of the office doors were still present. Many had been removed. The rooms were filled with an assortment of furniture scavenged from around the area. Old sofas, bed frames, mattresses, dressers, entertainment centers, and whatever else Justice Wall and her forebears had come across. If there was much use for any of it in today’s environment, it might have been worth a fortune. Instead, it was a collection of useless junk.

  “The bedrooms are the ones with the doors,” Justice Wall said. “You’re welcome to take your pick. Mi casa es su casa.” She smiled.

  “And my notes are your notes,” Camila replied, smiling back. “Matthias, Dutch, take the two closest to the door. Dutch, you have first watch.”