As I Walk These Broken Roads

by DMJ Aurini

  “Do you know any more about these raiders?” Raxx asked, “Perhaps we could help you somehow–”

  “Enough,” said the priest, sharply, “You likewise try to place yourself where you do not belong, and out of charity I cannot allow you to also come to harm through ignorance. Though we extend you the hand of hospitality, you must understand that you are not part of our community, and can never be, though I will pray that you find your own relationship with the Lord. You must leave after you have conducted your business, and ask no more of these sodomites. It is not for you to know. It is not for you to involve yourselves in. Now I have answered your questions to such a state that you understand them as much as you need to, and I will bid you good day, gents. Please conduct your business here in peace, then leave our community to its trials.” With that he turned back to his book, dismissing them. Raxx paled. He did an about face and stormed out. Wentworth had to rush to catch up.

  Chapter 17

  Raxx’s long stride quickly closed the distance with the truck. He got in, slamming the door and turning the key in the ignition. The engine rolled over and he took hold of the gearshift, pressing down on the clutch as the transmission thunked into first. He sat there with the motor humming; heavy in thought, glaring at the dashboard.

  Wentworth got in and Raxx stomped down on the accelerator. The truck roared, spitting gravel, and the passenger door banged shut. As they passed the last building he eased the pedal down to the floor, ratcheting up the speed to ninety kilometres an hour. He drove recklessly, the vehicle canting left and right, skidding out as the potholes sent vibrations through the frame. His wrist muscles twitched in response to the forces trying to jerk the vehicle off the road, while he clutched back and forth between the gears.

  Wentworth eased back in his seat and lit a cigarette. He didn’t know what had Raxx so upset; for all of his reticence, Jenkins had stayed polite. So he waited, smoking, bracing himself with his foot as the vehicle shuddered. Raxx remained silent, barrelling down the road. Wentworth would have to speak first.

  “‘Sodomites’ – that’s what Jenkins called Slayer and his crew. He said something like, ‘These sodomites have come upon us.’ Any idea what he meant by that?”

  Raxx sighed. His features relaxed, and he finally let up on the accelerator, letting the vehicle coast to a reasonable speed. “It’s got a bunch of meanings,” he said, “but it all depends on the context. Without knowing more about this Slayer guy or the Mennites, I couldn’t say exactly what he meant. Hell, it could’ve just been just an insult – you know, meaningless, just a word they use. It’s hard to say.” He paused, and his knuckles momentarily whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Its root meaning is ‘One who is despicable in the eyes of the Lord.’”

  Wentworth nodded, though he doubted it was an epithet. Jenkins hadn’t spoken it with enough vehemence for that, and he didn’t seem like the sort who’d use slang. Raxx was about to go on when a voice came from the back seat.

  “Excuse me, gents–’

  Raxx slammed on the brakes, throwing the vehicle into a skid. Wentworth whipped around, counteracting the centripetal force to lever himself against the headrest. The vehicle came to a stop amidst a cloud dust as Wentworth trained his pistol on the figure in the back.

  Sitting there was a boy of about fourteen or fifteen years, stunned into silence by their reactions. His outfit identified him as a Mennite, and the first traces of a beard were on his chin. After a moment the fire in Wentworth’s eyes dimmed, and he slouched back in his seat.

  “Goddamnit, kid, you scared me. You make a habit of hiding in strangers’ vehicles?”

  “I – I’m sorry, gents, I didn’t mean to!” he stammered.

  Wentworth glanced at Raxx, then unbuckled his seatbelt, “Aw, fuck, my cigarette!” He reached down and picked it up before it burned a hole in the floor. “Alright,” he said, turning to face the kid, “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing back there?”

  The kid swallowed. “My name’s Tyler – Tyler Inglewood. Please, gents, I didn’t want to sneak into your carriage, but it was the only way I could talk to you. Don’t – I hope you’re not so angry!”

  Wentworth looked dubious, but Raxx managed to shrug off his ill temper and put on a friendly expression, “No harm done. You just surprised us, is all. I’m Raxx, by the way. And this is Wentworth.”

  “Puh – pleased to meet you Mister Raxx, Mister, uh, Mister Wentworth.”

  “Just Wentworth. Listen, kid, relax; we’re not angry, just a little on edge right now.” He let out a breath, glaring at Raxx behind polarized lenses. “Here;” he offered his pack of cigarettes to Tyler, who took one but remained nervous. He lit it off of the dashboard lighter Raxx offered, his hands trembling with inexperience. His first puff had him explode in coughing, but by the second he seemed to have caught the hang of it.

  “So Tyler,’ asked Raxx, “What’s so important that you couldn’t just tell us out there on the street?”

  “Well, you see gents, uh–” he glanced about for a second. Raxx guessed at his dilemma, and reached over to the driver-side console to lower Tyler’s window. The boy jumped at the window’s hum, regarding it suspiciously, before hesitantly ashing his cigarette and nodding his thanks, “You see, I heard you talking to Ol’ Annie about the sodomites – I works for her now – and then I saw you go off to the Church to talk with Mr. Jenkins. But I knew what he was going to say, the same thing what he said to them folks from Hope. And I knew if I talked to you where everybody could see I’d get in trouble, and they wouldn’t have let me say nothing anyway. So I figured I’d hide in here and wait until you’d moved a bit before saying anything–”

  “So Tyler, tell me this;” Wentworth took a final drag of his cigarette and flicked it out the window, “Why are you talking to us when no one else will?”

  Tyler swallowed. “It’s… it’s because of what happened...” he looked up at Raxx and straightened his back. “What happened to my family! It was… it was at the beginning of summer.

  “We’d just finished the seeding. I remember, ‘cause I was in the barn putting away all the stores. It was really hot and dusty, the dust from the bags was getting all over me, and I was taking a break ‘cause I seen a funny looking spider. That’s when I heard a growl, and a whole bunch of popping noises coming from the road. I crawled over to the peepin’ crack and that’s when I saw ‘em – Slayer and his gents. There was a whole bunch, all lined up on the road, and running at our farm.

  “They . . . hurt my sisters and brothers, my parents! My older brother Jersey tried to fight back; he was running back from the fields when I saw him, with a shovel. He had it lifted above his head like he was going to hit them, and he was screaming, but then a – an arrow – showed up in his tums. For a second he looked all surprised, then – well, then… then he just fell. And he didn’t move no more.”

  He took a heavy drag on the cigarette, coughed, and wiped at his nose. “After shooting ‘im they laughed about it. Laughed! Like it weren’t nothing! Then, well… I think one of ‘em saw me… Gents… I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it.” He sighed, casting his eyes down again. “The whole time I was hiding in the barn, watching the whole thing. At first it was because I was too scared to move… but then, well… after a bit, it was ‘cause I knew that I couldn’t do nothin’ no-way. They’d just kill me like they did Jersey. The man that looked at me – I don’t know why he didn’t, but I was just so scared.”

  For a moment the boy was silent, and Wentworth and Raxx looked away. When he started speaking again his words came spilling out like a flood.

  “So’s I walked here afterwards, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve been living with Ol’ Annie, helping her out, ever since. And I listen to Jenkins when he preaches, and what he’s saying don’t make sense. When I talk to him it’s like he just looks right through me, he’s too busy thinking about all them words in his head. I don’t know much about all that stuff, but I know the Lord would
n’t send that kind of trouble! Those gents – those gents come from the Other One! And I think that maybe the Lord only helps those what helps themselves, gents, that’s what I understand. So I don’t know why Jenkins won’t let no one fight back. Why we can’t do what we oughta?

  “When you two came in today I heard what you were saying. You talked all smooth, but I knew you had something else in your wits. I figured maybe you were here from Hope, or some other place, and that you might be looking to do something to this Slayer. Maybe do something that oughta be done.”

  Raxx glanced at Wentworth, raising an eyebrow.

  “Oh-ah, you gents is gonna – I can see it! He’s real tall and strong, thinks he’s the big boss, but you is gonna show him otherways! You Gents is, ain’t ya?”

  Wentworth grimaced. “I sure hope so, kid,” he said, “But a lot of that’s gonna depend on how much you can tell us. Is there anything else you know about these guys?”

  Tyler nodded his head vigorously, “Oh-ah, Gents, tonight they’s gonna be coming to get their tribute. See, Jenkins made a deal with them to stop all the raiding. Now we is gonna give ‘em part of the food.” He shook his head slowly, meeting their gaze. “That don’t seem like such a good idea to me, though. Seems to me that we shouldn’t be trusting the Other One to make a fair deal, it seems.”

  “What time are they going to be there?” asked Raxx.

  “Just after the sunset. That’s what I heard everyone saying.”

  “Hmm,” Wentworth pulled stared out the back window, into the distance, “Say, Tyler; you see that structure up on the hill there, just north of the settlement? Anybody ever go up there?”

  Tyler twisted around to look back. “No. . . I don’t think so. I don’t know what’s up there, never seen nobody head there.”

  “Hmm,” thought Raxx. The hill in question overlooked the settlement; its peak was only a couple hundred meters away. “Let me guess – you wanna scout this bunch out, too?”

  Wentworth nodded slowly. “You got it. Now listen, Tyler, I got some more questions for you…”

  They spent the next twenty minutes interrogating the youth. He’d been witness to the exact sort of events they wanted to know about, but he lacked the education in battle needed to explain them. It had all blurred in his memory, and asking him about the raider’s tactics proved to be even less fruitful than asking what sort of ‘carriages’ they’d used. Their questioning slowed to a trickle, then stopped.

  They sent him on his way, with a couple of cigarettes for the road. He vanished into the fields on the right. “Hey, kid!” called out Raxx, as a thought occurred. After a moment Tyler reappeared between the stalks. “We’re gonna do what we can – it’s a good thing you snuck in here. Good on ‘ya for having the guts to talk with us!” Tyler waved at them, and ran off. From the expression on his face, he felt relieved at getting away from the strangers; he’d done what he had to, and now he wanted to go home.

  Wentworth glanced at him, and Raxx responded with a shrug. “He kind of reminds me of me at that age.”

  Wentworth drummed his fingers for moment, then scowled. “Damnit,” he said, “I forgot to ask him what ‘sodomite’ means.”

  Chapter 18

  The house on the hilltop had been built as a cottage for two. Nestled into the earth, its third story rose up to crown the peak. A long driveway came up from the road, ending in a tiled culvert surrounded by flower beds. To the right was the house’s two-car garage, on the left a stone wall held back the hill’s bow; where stone and brick met, a flight of stairs rose up to the main entrance. The bedroom had faced east to greet the rising sun.

  But the exposure had come at a cost; decades of wind and rain had worn on the structure, greying its red bricks and yellowing its timbers. It had faded slowly, showing more wear each year, until the day it collapsed. By the time the two men arrived it slouched along the same curve as its neighbouring slope.

  Wentworth dipped his finger into his stew to check the temperature. Satisfied, he picked up the canteen cup and crushed the burning fuel-tab under his boot. He pulled out a spoon and returned his gaze to the Mennite settlement. He was sitting on a stray log, hidden behind some bracken. His helmet and rifle lay by his side. Behind and below was Raxx, working on the truck.

  The hill top was steep enough for him to see most of the main street, and the highway stretching beyond it. Between him and the Mennites was a ragged forest which ran down to a swampy valley; the chances of the locals noticing him were slim, and by the time evening arrived he’d be invisible. He hoped to find out what sort of force they’d dealing with, but that information wouldn’t be enough on its own – they’d need to capitalize on it.

  “Intelligence,” he’d said, “is a time-sensitive commodity.”

  “A what?”

  He lowered his binoculars, and continued to scan the western arc. “What we see today might not have any bearing tomorrow. And next week it’ll be even worse.”

  “Okay.”

  He mulled over the landscape, “Say… how good of a driver are you?”

  “What, with my girl there?” Raxx shrugged and scratched his nose. “Pretty good. I take it easy most of the time, but… well, you saw me driving angry back there. I know how to handle these roads.”

  “Yeah… okay then, this path here,” it wound down the hill in front of them, passing half a kilometre behind the Mennite settlement. It was barely visible, nothing but two grooves in the tall grasses. “You think you could drive it in the dark? At night, with no lights?”

  “Hmm…” he stared at it through his own binos. It ran down towards a secondary road which curved onto the highway. “Why would I want to drive with no lights?”

  “Because otherwise you’d be visible.”

  “True. Hmm... yeah. Yeah, I think I could handle it. Can’t guarantee how fast, but it looks pretty stable. But how do we get rid of the lights?”

  Wentworth raised his eyebrow. “…you could turn them off?”

  Raxx shook his head. “Daytime Running Lights.”

  “What?”

  “They’re a safety feature; used to be mandatory, I think. They turn on whenever the truck’s running; made it easier for the other drivers to see you.”

  “Can’t you unplug them or something?”

  “No, see, that’s the thing – the safety feature’s part of the electrical system. They burned out on me one time, and it killed the ignition power,” he scratched the stubble growing on his head. “I had to fix the headlights before she would start.”

  Wentworth glanced back at the vehicle, glaring at the amber panels. “Safety feature.” For a moment he considered cursing. “I suppose asking the other drivers to pay attention would’ve been too much… Raxx, you think you could wire up a blackout drive?”

  Back in his Regiment days, that’s what they’d called it. A master kill-switch for all of the lights that would trick the vehicle into thinking they were still working. More than just that, a kill switch for all the electronics, too, as a double safety feature for explosive environments. As he spoke Raxx grew thoughtful, running his hand over his tool belt. When he finished the Mechanic wandered off without saying a word. Multimeter in hand, he began probing the truck’s electrical veins.

  For the rest of the evening he worked. Occasionally Wentworth would hear the vehicle start up, then shut down as Raxx ran tests. For a while the man just sat in the passenger seat thinking. Later he’d disassembled some of the interior moulding, and Wentworth saw him contorted under the dash. This was the first time he’d struggled against the vehicle’s nature.

  Twilight was descending and still nothing in the settlement. Hunger pangs had forced Raxx to take a break. He was glaring directionlessly, eating his unheated meal.

  Wentworth took a swig from his canteen, staring at the placid town. Raxx must have eaten in a hurry; he could already hear him working on the truck again. He lit up a cigarette and continued watching. The sun’s red light was diffusing through the gathering c
louds, turning the sky tan and amber. It was going to be a dark night.

  “Fuck!” Steel clanged as Raxx threw a tool at the ground. Wentworth glanced back in time to see it bounce toward the house, lodging in a piece of rotted drywall. Turning back toward the settlement, Wentworth could hear the man muttering, and putting his tools away, then slamming truck’s hood. A few minutes later Raxx hauled himself up the stone wall, and joined Wentworth on the log.

  “Didn’t go so well?”

  “Nah,” said Raxx, his voice relaxed and calm, “Either there’s something I missed – some relay I didn’t notice – or – hell, I dunno. I wish I had a good electrical diagram for my girl. The one I’ve got is wrong in some parts. I should be able to find a way around it, eventually – but for now I just rigged it.”

  Wentworth butted out his cigarette and looked down at the truck. Squares of duct tape covered the headlights.

  “That’ll do. You want to take over the picket? I’m going to go wash my canteen cup.”

  He got up and vaulted down to the landing, walking down the stairs to the rear of the truck. Unscrewing the cap on the water jerry sitting on the bed, he tilted it over and rinsed out the aluminum cup. Shaking it dry, he put it back into its pouch, topped of his canteen, and rejoined Raxx on the hill.

  By the time he returned Raxx had lit a cigarillo and was looking thoughtful. “You know, earlier this week, just after we got into town and were doing all that boozing, you said something that stuck with me and it’s been going around my head.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You asked me ‘Do you think the war helped us appreciate tragedy?’ I was wondering what you meant by that.”

  The words sparked a memory, flashing him back to the Tracy’s Roadhouse. The beer had been catalyzing his brain, letting disparate thoughts flow together.