He was right. The cost was too much.
With my last second connected to the machine, I lowered the field gently. With as much ease as I could muster, shutting everything down.
All I needed to do then was disconnect from the machine.
The explosion took out the generators, dropping the whole place into darkness. Like a jarring kick to the head, I was booted from the system. It felt like a large hunk of my own brain was cut out of my head with a rusty knife.
When my eyes opened, the room was dark. Somehow, disconnecting had sent me flying across the room, though I didn’t remember much of the flight. Francis shifted on the floor just before the blackness came. Dully, I realized that I should do something about the boy before I slipped away into unconsciousness.
The last thing I was aware of before I slipped away was fat, warm raindrops falling from the sky.
Chapter 38
The cemetery outside of Dead Oak was a quiet place on a hill surrounded by wrought-iron fence and shrubs that had died ages ago. Too many of the graves were fresh. Too many were my fault.
Josephine’s headstone was a simple slab of steel etched with her name. Abi had arranged it after she took over the junkyard. After the attack on Quintech, she’d returned to help Ben handle the longhorns. She had a talent for it, but it would be a long time before Ben’s ranch was fully operational again. She’d done well handling Ben’s stubborn streak. Now they had each other and maybe there was hope.
Zane’s grave sat apart from the others. It was a simple plaque, reflecting the red of the setting sun. It had his name and the day of his death. An inscription read, “A hero of all men.” He’d certainly been a hero to me. He had been hope to me. My love for him had proven that life in the wastes could be something more than gunfights and starvation. His love for me had shown me that there was something worthwhile left in myself. He was gone, but I’d carry that love with me for the rest of my life.
Not all of my failures rested in that cemetery. Broadfeather had been buried with my people, near Overpass. Mina led them now, and they were better for it. Broadfeather was a wise man, but a damn fool for thinking I could lead the Hopi. Others of the tribe had been buried near him, all of them gone too early.
The Navajo returned to their nation in the north. They’d proven themselves to us and we had proven ourselves to them. No, they wouldn’t poke bears, but they wouldn’t feed them either. Maybe one day Mina would move the Hopi up to join with the Navajo Nation, but not yet. Not until it was the last option.
A month had passed since the fight at Quintech. My legs were nearly ready to shed the braces that allowed me to walk. I’d stood trial for the bank robbery and the attack on Quintech. Even though every damn soul at the hearing knew I was doing what was right, the judge ruled me guilty. After Cinco Armas looted Quintech—their goal all along—and Francis escaped punishment, the judge said he had no choice but to send me up the river. Hell, I almost agreed. The rule of law needed some support from time to time, though I suspect the judge was taking a good portion of his pay from Charles Goodwin himself.
“What’ll it be?” Sheriff Trish said from the base of the hill. I hadn’t heard her approach.
Zane’s grave hurt the most. The thought of it still made rage boil in my gut, but I knew she wasn’t to blame. She couldn’t have known.
Why hadn’t I trusted him? No, that wasn’t it. Why hadn’t I trusted myself? It had always felt right, being with Zane. When we were together we’d always worked. Why had I doubted it so much?
Goodwin. It was Goodwin I didn’t trust and I’d eliminated the one thing that really posed the corporation any real threat. With the tower gone and Quintech destroyed, Goodwin would be free to exact whatever cruelty he wanted on the people of the outlands.
It was time for my prison sentence to start. That morning was my last hour of freedom, granted to me so that I might set my affairs in order. It was a special compensation, granted to me out of respect for my time at war and my service as a sheriff. It was given to me out of trust, since they knew I was a man of honor.
I turned to Trish. She waited patiently for my answer. On one side of her was her cruiser, the honorable path to a life of hard labor in the Iowa wastes. The other side was my skidder, the path of dishonor. The life of an outlaw waited there for me.
She stepped up to me, looked me in the eyes, then hugged me. She hugged hard, and sobs welled up in my chest.
“I’m sorry, J.D.” She squeezed me tight. “I should have known it wasn’t Francis. I didn’t notice the change.”
“You couldn’t have. He was subtle. Quick.”
“A person can’t put a gun against someone’s head if they’re not willing to fire. It’s just…”
“I know.” Of course, I understood. She had pulled the trigger of the gun that had killed Zane, but it wasn’t her fault. It was Francis. The boy was broken inside. He wasn’t a sad boy to be pitied anymore. He was a ruthless killer.
“Zane was special, wasn’t he?”
“We were going to make something of it.” I swallowed back a sob. “After.”
She stepped away from me and looked me over. “There’s never an after, is there?”
“Nope.”
“I won’t come after you. Someone else might come, but I don’t think so. Not right away, anyway.”
“Be careful,” I said. “There weren’t long-range launchers anywhere around Quintech. When I was in the machine, I would have felt them. There was nothing that would have dropped those bombs on Ben’s ranch.”
“You think it was Goodwin?”
“Or another player entirely.”
“You think there’s a war coming, don’t you?”
“Not if bombs fall on us every time we gather and talk about war. If Quintech could listen to us through our headgear then Goodwin can do it too. All they need to do is track where we are and what we’re talking about. It wouldn’t be hard for their computers to do that without even making people listen in.”
“That’s either a sobering thought or conspiratorial nonsense.”
“Oh, and one more thing to get you thinking.” I smiled. “I owe Court a favor.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I owe her a favor. Whatever she wants.” I basked for a moment in the setting sun. “Thing is, though, she needs to ask first. If I keep moving, I’ll be fine.”
Trish turned, hopped in her cruiser, and started pulling away.
“You’re needed out there.”
“I know.”
My skidder sat there, ready for me to leave. I powered it up, programmed a destination, and set it on its way. If there was any law out there, it would track the skidder. Farther downhill, Muffin stood tied to a tree. She whinnied when I approached and I smiled a sad smile and rubbed her nose.
Once we were on our way, I turned her north and gave her the lead. We’d go to where the hills became mountains. The law wouldn’t bother us north, in the Yellowstone wastes. It’d be harsh, but I’d make my life there as a free man and for a time the heavy weight of the world wouldn’t rest on my shoulders. It was worth it for the freedom. I’d given up everything for my honor, and now it was honor itself that I was tossing aside in favor of freedom. One day I’d return to rebuild that honor.
Until then, freedom would do.
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to my wife Carol and my two boys Isaac and Gabe. Without their support and understanding this book would not have been possible. Also, a great thanks goes out to Scott Alexander Jones, my editor. He not only has helped make this a better book with exceptional copyediting, but also by helping the Texas of this book be more Texas. As it should.
The Rochester Writers Group gets an extra pile of gratitude. The various skills represented in that group have helped me grow as a serious writer.
About the Author
ANTHONY W. EICHENLAUB’s shorter works have appeared in Kobold Quarterly, Kzine, and the steampunk anthology Conquest
Through Determination. He organizes the Books and Beer event in Rochester, Minnesota, which celebrates his passions of brewing and writing by hosting author readings in a craft brewpub. Anthony is an active member of the Rochester Writer’s Group and studies at the Loft Literary Center. Anthony is active on Twitter as @AWEichenlaub and his latest exploits can be found at eichenblog.org
Other Books by Anthony W. Eichenlaub
Justice in an Age of Metal and Men
Metal and Men Book 1
Grit and Grace
A Metal and Men novella
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Anthony W. Eichenlaub
Peace in an Age of Metal and Men Page 27