Roland: Reluctant Paladin

by N. C. Reed

  “You mean he’s like me when I’m fighting,” Roland replied.

  “You know what I mean.” She paused for a time, rocking in her chair. Roland stayed quiet, his mind reeling.

  “Know you don’t understand what all I’m sayin’ now, boy, but reckon it’ll come to you, when it’s needed. You take heed. There’ll be a woman with hair like the sun, and she’ll lead you astray you ain’t careful. She’ll look like a cool drink o’ water on a hot summer day, but inside she’s poison.”

  “There’ll be a man with a heart of iron, and he’ll stand by you ‘til the end. You won’t like him at first, but you will in time. He’ll tell you you’re crazy, with a busload o’ kids that ain’t your responsibility, but he’ll be there when you need ‘im.”

  “And there’s a girl with hair like coal that’ll watch you. Watch ever step you take. She’s different from the others. Be mindful of her. She’s your future, Roland Stang. If you’ve got one that’s not covered in blood and misery, she’s it.” The old woman rose, a bit unsteady.

  “I ain’t long for this world, Roland Stang,” she told him bluntly. “I done seen it. Jesse don’t know it, and I ain’t gonna tell’im. You ain’t to tell ‘im, neither. When I’m gone, he’ll like as not seek you out. You watch over him, boy. He’s as loyal as a sheep dog, and as true as clean water. You wait two weeks before you leave. Hear me? When you get back, you wait two weeks before you leave.” She started inside.

  “Think bigger,” she said suddenly.

  “Ma’am?”

  “You need a truck,” Gran reminded him. “Think bigger.” She started to the door, but stopped before she opened it.

  “There’s a word for people like you, Roland Stang. A word from the old world, some would say. But it’s a good word.” She paused for a moment, as if sizing him up.

  “Fare thee well, Paladin.”

  And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You up already?” Jesse asked, walking out onto the porch. Gran Fuller had been gone for half-an-hour, and Roland had simply sat, staring into the coming day, his mind a swirl of emotions.

  “Yeah. Reckon four days is about all the sleep I can handle at one go,” Roland joked.

  “You up to makin’ the trip then?” Jesse asked, concern for his old friend and teammate in his voice.

  “Ain’t got no choice but to be,” Roland shrugged, standing. “Just need to get my pack. I didn’t think to ask if you picked it up.”

  “And your rifle,” Jesse nodded. “Wish I had my old M-4, nowadays,” he said mournfully. “Could sure use it.”

  “We get where we’re going’, I’ll fix you up,” Roland promised. “I might have an extra laying around.” Jesse’s grin was wide enough to drive a car through.

  “That sounds fine!” he drew out the words. “Let me get some gear, and pick up your stuff. Might as well get going. Most of the rowdy ones’ll still be sleepin’ it off this time of the mornin’.”

  “Sounds good,” Roland nodded. “Need to say good-bye to your Gran, too.”

  “She’s fast asleep, Ro’,” Jesse shook his head. “I can tell’er you wanted to, but I’d appreciate you don’t wake’er. She’s out of her heart meds, and she ain’t doing real well.”

  “That’s fine,” Roland nodded. “I wouldn’t want to wake her. I appreciate all she’s done. And you for saving my ass, too.”

  “Ain’t like you never saved mine,” Jesse reminded him. “Let’s git.”

  -

  Jesse knew the area well, being a native. He led Roland through a dizzying array of alleys and back streets as they made their way back to the warehouse.

  “Let me lead when we get near,” Roland cautioned. “There’s a boy’ll likely be on watch. No need to get hit with Blue.” Jesse nodded.

  It took four hours to make the journey with Roland in the shape he was in. They’d stopped to rest a couple times but Roland kept pushing. He needed to get back and see what was happening.

  “Okay, Sarge, we’re about a block away,” Jesse told him. Roland nodded.

  “Yeah, I’ve been seeing familiar things last few blocks.”

  “If you can make it alone, I can head back,” Jesse suggested.

  “No,” Roland shook his head. “Need to get you outfitted. I got it to spare, promise. And I want to give you a ride back. No need for you to walk.”

  “Waste o’ gas, Ro’,” Jesse argued.

  “Not to me. C’mon.”

  Roland took the lead, walking as upright as he was able. The walk had about done him in. He was still about a hundred feet from the door when someone called out:

  “Stop!”

  Roland stopped.

  “It’s me, Roland!” he called out. “James, is that you?”

  “Roland?” James stuck his head over the tall roof, amazement in his voice. “Roland is that really you?”

  “What’s left of me,” Roland nodded. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” James replied. “Who’s that with you?”

  “Believe it or not, just about my best friend, ever,” Roland smiled. “He pulled me off the ground and nursed me back to health. We soldiered together.”

  “So, we’re cool?” James asked, his voice wary.

  “Yeah, we’re cool,” Roland smiled. “Us foster boys got to stick together, right?”

  “Right!” As Roland hoped, James remembered their conversation from before. No one else would know what they’d said to one another. It also let James know, more or less, that Roland was okay. James was quick on the uptake. Thinking that made Roland remember Gran Fuller’s admonition to him. He made a mental note then and there to start teaching James everything he needed to know. Starting today.

  The walk-through door opened, and Maria looked out, tiny pistol in her hand. She saw Roland, and for a brief instant, relief shown on her haggard face. Then she smothered it.

  “We thought you were dead,” she said flatly.

  “I can feel the remorse from here,” Roland muttered, limping his way to the door. Jesse followed, hands clear.

  “Who is he?” Maria demanded.

  “Friend of mine that’s responsible for me not being dead,” Roland shot back. “Let us in.” Maria frowned, but stepped back, opening the door wider. Roland managed to get inside and to a chair before he gave out.

  “Home, sweet home,” he whispered. James and Ralph came running to meet him.

  “Mister Roland!” Ralph hugged him, making pain shoot through his arm. “I was. . .I was afraid you...” He stopped, unsure what to say.

  “I’m okay, Ralph,” Roland assured the boy. “I’m glad you got back safe. Have any trouble?”

  “No, sir,” Ralph shook his head. “Made it fine. I’m. . .I’m sorry ‘bout the truck, Mister Roland,” he added quietly. “And Willie. If I had...”

  “Don’t finish that,” Roland said sternly. “I don’t know how you kept that truck upright as long as you did, Ralph. That was some serious driving you did. They shot both the right rear tires off. You did great.” The boy smiled slightly.

  “And what happened to Willie wasn’t your fault, either. Was mine. I didn’t see him soon enough to stop him, that’s all.”

  “But you told him not to go out the window, Mister Roland!” Ralph objected. “I heard you!”

  “I wasn’t fast enough,” Roland shook his head. “Never think it was your fault, Ralph. Never. Hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy nodded, looking as if a giant weight had been taken from his shoulders.

  “Would you get me and Jesse some water, please?” he asked. Ralph nodded eagerly, and ran off.

  “Damn, Ro’, you wasn’t kiddin’, was you?” Jesse whistled, looking around. “That’s a passel o’ young’uns, sure enough.”

  “James, looks like you did good,” Roland smiled. “This is Jesse Fuller. Me and him been all over the world together, seems like.”

  “Mister Fuller,” James nodded.

  “Call me Jesse, James,”
Fuller smiled, then laughed at his pun. They all laughed at that.

  “I’m pleased you can laugh, with Willie dead,” Maria said scornfully, walking up unnoticed and unannounced.

  “Maria, we aren’t laughing about Willie,” Roland sighed. “Jesse just made an almost joke. It was pretty bad, but funny at the same time. Give it a rest, will ya?”

  “Were you joking around when Willie was shot?” Maria was relentless.

  “No, I was killing the people who shot him,” Roland snapped back. “And bleeding to death in the process. I’m sure you’d be much happier if I had bled out, but unfortunately for you, not everyone shares your hatred of white people just on general principles. Jesse found me. Saved my life. Hate him for a while, since it’s his fault I’m still alive.”

  Maria turned in a huff and stalked away.

  “Damn, Ro’,” Jesse murmured. “Ease up, bro.”

  “She hates me cause I’m white,” Roland shrugged. “Ain’t like that’s my fault or nothin’. And I ain’t done one bad thing to her. Or said nothin’ bad, either,” he added.

  “She gave Ralph hell for two days, when he came back alone,” James said softly. “Had the poor kid thinking it was his fault. Kinda made it sound like he’d just ran off, and left you and Willie.”

  “Maybe I made up for that,” Roland grimaced. “If she wasn’t so good with these kids...”

  “That’s the only reason she’s still alive,” James said flatly. “Ralph cried for hours. And she never let up. If I thought we could have managed without her...”

  “I get the picture,” Roland held a hand up, forestalling any further comment from James. Jesse gave Roland the stink eye.

  “Jesus, Ro’, are you sure he ain’t some kind o’ kin o’ yours?”

  -

  Things were tense, but there was work to be done. First, Roland walked over to his trailer and unlocked it. He began removing items from inside, handing them off to Jesse.

  “Jeez, Roland, are you sure?” Jesse asked, seeing the gear being piled at his feet.

  “Yep,” Roland nodded. “I told you, I got it to spare. There was sort of a buyer’s market when I left.”

  “What all you got in there?” Jesse asked.

  “Little o’ this, little o’ that,” Roland shrugged. “It’s all good, Jesse. And you need the gear. Don’t bother sayin’ ya don’t,” he added. Jesse finally nodded, gratefully.

  “Here,” Roland said, thrusting a pack at his friend. “Half-dozen Ethiopian Rejects, water tabs, fuel tabs, mess kit, canteen, and M-9. Should be a set of web gear in there, too.”

  “Water purification is. . .man that’s a godsend,” Jesse replied. “Thanks Ro’.”

  “No problem my friend. Least I can do, considering. Think of anything else you might need? If I’ve got it, it’s yours.”

  “No, this is awesome. Full load of ammo, too,” he added. “I don’t know what to say, Roland,” Jesse said earnestly.

  “Try ‘Gee, thanks Roland’,” came Roland’s sarcastic reply, but he laughed as he said it.

  “Gee, thanks Roland,” Jesse grinned. “I hate to take and run, but I gotta head back. Things’l get active, soon.”

  “I’ll get James to drive you back,” Roland offered. “Him and Ralph.”

  “Nah, vehicle would just attract attention. And thanks to you I’m geared up good, now. I’ll make it fine.” Roland looked at him for a moment, then nodded. He reached back into the trailer, and removed a satellite phone.

  “Take this, then,” he offered. “I’ve got one, too. My contact is on the back. Get in a jam, call me. Battery’s full up, so if you’re conservative, you should be good for a while.”

  “Awesome,” the former soldier smiled. He put the phone into the pack, and slung it on his shoulder.

  “Roland, take care, okay? You need some rest ‘fore you start into doing anything else for a while.”

  “I will. I think we’ll hang here another two, maybe three weeks. After that, we’ll start looking for a home. You decide you want to come see us, gimme a call.”

  “Roger that,” Jesse nodded, and extended his hand. Roland took it, and the two friends drew each other into an embrace.

  “Keep your feet and knees together,” Roland smiled.

  “Watch your six,” Jesse replied. Roland watched him go, and then sat down heavily on the trailer’s floor. It was harder than he had thought to see Jesse leave. But according to Gran, he’d see Jesse again soon enough. Meanwhile, he had other things to take care of.

  “James, come on over here,” Roland called out. “I need to talk to you, buddy.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Well, it’s good to be home, I guess. I really miss Willie. Fifteen years old, his whole life ahead of him, and now he’s gone. Just like that.

  And it’s my fault. Jesse can say anything he wants, but I know it’s my fault. I should have done the job myself. I could have walked back and got the truck later instead of taking Ralph and Willie out there. I depended on the low life’s laying up in the mornings since they were laying it on thick every night.

  That was a mistake. I made the mistake but it was Willie who paid for it. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had never walked out of that jungle alive. Everywhere I go, death follows.

  Gran Fuller was right about that when she said it. Or words to those effect. Walking the Devil’s Road. I really liked that old woman. I wish she would come here, and be with these kids. They could really benefit being around someone like her.

  Then again, if she’s right, then they would only have time to start getting attached before she was taken from them, and that might be worse for them in the long run. Like I would know, anyhow.

  I’ve started teaching James, like she wanted. He’s taken to it like a duck to water, and that really doesn’t make me feel very good. It’s like I’m taking his future away. Why am I putting so much faith in what she said anyway? For all I know she’s a crackpot.

  No, scratch that. She’s definitely not a crackpot. I know why I’m putting faith in her, damn it. She reminds me of the Medicine Man. And damn him too, for me still being alive. Who asked him to ‘intervene’ as he called it? Did he ‘intervene’ just so I could be here, and get Willie killed?

  Or maybe, just maybe, so that I could save at least some of the others? Gran says I can’t, that I won’t, save them all. To accept that now, so it’s easier to keep going later.

  Just how in the hell do I do that? Will I have to choose who I can save, and who I can’t? How does someone make that kind of choice? Any one of these kids could be key to our future. How do I know who that might be?

  And even if I did know, what gives me the right to decide which child lives, and which dies? Nothing, that’s what. They all deserve to live. To have a shot at some kind of future that doesn’t revolve around being huddled in this damn warehouse, afraid to laugh and play for fear that it will attract attention to themselves. To scrape and scratch for enough to live. Never being happy, full, or content, just surviving, and that only barely.

  Dear God, please help me. Not for me. I don’t deserve it. But for them. Surely, they do. Surely.

  -

  Maria barely speaks to me these days. It’s been a week since I got back and she’s never more than civil, and that only when the younger children are around. I hate her. I mean I really hate her. Ralph is still having nightmares about Willie, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that she’s at least partly to blame.

  Damn her for tormenting him like that. I’ve never seen so much concentrated venom in one little woman. It’s like she hates the whole world, and blames everyone she comes in contact with for her problems.

  She’s not the only one who’s lost her family. These little kids, and the older ones, are all alone, save for each other. It sucks, and that’s a fact, but for her to take it out on Ralph is beyond wrong.

  As for me, I couldn’t care less what she says to me, or thinks of me. If I could manage on my own, I’d give her f
ood and water for a week or two, and she could step on out now. Arrogant bitch. I mean, I know she’s been through a lot, but so has everyone else. I’m getting mad all over again just thinking about her flogging Ralph about Willie.

  I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I do her. Ever. And that’s saying something.

  -

  The kids seem to feel the tension between us. I know that Deena and Terri are aware of it, though I don’t think Maria is really speaking to them very much either. Ralph avoids her like the plague, and James watches her with hawk eyes. If she steps out of line again, he may decide he’s had enough.

  Hell of it is, I don’t know whether to stop him, or help him. It’s that bad.

  We’ve been working on the bus, some, trying to get it beefed up a little. James suggested we dismantle some of the shelves in the warehouse, and use the material to cover the windows, tires, and sides. Not as good as real armor, but it might make the kids safer when we leave. I’ve emptied my Jerry cans into the bus, and now it’s got almost a full tank. No idea how far that will carry us. For that matter, I still don’t have any idea where for us to go. I’ve looked at the map until my eyes blur, but I just can’t see it. I can’t see the spot.

  So, I’ve decided to head south. Even a hundred miles might mean warmer temperatures, and easier living. We need to be near a dependable water source. What I’d really love to find is an abandoned old school house, with a well. Plenty of room, maybe some playground equipment, and a gym. Room to grow some food. Fenced in area. And books, of course. Books for the kids to learn. And there might be a library.

  Too bad there’s no more internet. I could Google search schools, and see where they all are.

  James helped me redress my arm earlier today. It’s ugly, but there’s plenty of scars on me, so one more won’t matter. The important thing is that it’s not red or swollen. I definitely got lucky. Meaty part of my arm, no bones broken, no veins or arteries damaged. It will heal, and not cost me any use in my arm.