by J. D. Miller
“W-why are you apologizing? If anything, i-it should be the other way around. I dragged you into this mess. I led you to your death!”
Silvia tried to push him away, but Carter held on tight. After a while, she stopped resisting, hugging him back as her face merged with his shoulder.
“I don’t regret a single decision I’ve made since I found you in that wreck. No matter what happens, just remember, given the chance to go back and do it all again, I’d still help you. If this is how it ends, so be it; at least I can die with a clear conscience.”
Behind them, their pursuer’s footfalls faded. Lifting her head, Silvia stared behind Carter. The sound of about a dozen safeties clicking back merged with the roar of the river. Carter closed his eyes.
This is it.
Gently pushing Silvia away, Carter rose. Holding a hand to his wound, he felt the cold, metallic grip of his handgun glance off the back of his hand. Then, forcing a grin, he turned.
Fourteen men stood there, each holding a rifle. Most of them were Covenant members, but several new faces stood amidst the crowd, most likely hired guns or slavers. Among the group stood Drew. Dressed in his usual attire, he trained his rifle on Carter’s head. Stepping forward, Carter smiled like a madman.
“What, all these guns for one guy? I’m honored, fellas.”
“Shut up.”
“Where’s your boss, Drew? Too good to carry out his dirty work himself?”
“Not at all, Mr. Hale.”
Marcus strode up from behind one of his lackeys, his revolver drawn. He grinned menacingly at Carter, eyes blazing with silent fury.
“Do you remember what I told you?” Marcus asked.
Carter remained silent.
“I told you I would hunt you to the ends of the Earth if you betrayed me. Do you remember that, Mr. Hale?”
Carter said nothing. Subconsciously, his hand slipped around his gun.
“I warned you, Mr. Hale,” Marcus screamed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Go to hell, you bastard.”
Marcus’s lip twitched. Stepping forward, he raised his revolver. Carter flinched, his knees threatening to buckle.
“You’re a fool,” Marcus growled. “In the end, we still found the girl. Her fate is no different than it was before. The only difference is you. How does it feel, knowing you forfeited your life for nothing?”
Carter drew his pistol, aiming it directly at Marcus’s head. All around them, the other raiders whipped their guns up.
“This is your last chance, Mr. Hale.” Marcus chuckled, clicking back the hammer on his six-shooter. “Give us the girl, and I’ll put an end to your suffering.”
“Let me make myself perfectly clear: you can have her once I’m cold and dead. Otherwise, I will never give her to you!”
Marcus sneered. “Oh, believe me, Mr. Hale, we will take her, but not before you’ve suffered nice and slow—”
A horn blared from over the horizon. Carter turned. He could just make out a small group of men standing several yards down the stream.
“Everyone, put down your guns!” one of the newcomers commanded.
Nobody moved. Carter kept his pistol trained squarely between Marcus’s eyes. The captain did the same. His men, however, hesitated. The group on the hill spread out, brandishing weapons of their own.
“I said drop your weapons, dammit!”
“I recommend you mind your own business, sir!” Marcus shouted, staring at Carter.
“Sir, do not ignore the hand of the church! It is God’s will that all violence becomes our business. Now, stand down!”
The hand of the church?
Carter’s chest swelled.
“You-you’re Templars?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant George Becket of the Fifty-Fifth Knight Squadron, to be precise. And it is my duty to administer God’s divine justice on those who defy His sacred laws!”
The man stood tall, sporting a buzz cut and rough goatee. He wore red robe-like clothes under silver riot gear. The man’s face showed several scars, and he stared at the scene with contempt. In his hands sat a riot shotgun.
“Do not make me repeat myself a third time, gentlemen,” he bellowed. “Lower your weapons, or we will force you to.”
Carter hesitated. Marcus stared, his eyes bulging as he fought to hold in his fury. Behind him, most of his men lowered their weapons. Carter glanced behind him and met Silvia’s gaze. She looked up at him, her expression muddled with fear and hope. Shuddering, Carter holstered his gun.
Dammit. This better work.
“There’s a good lad,” the lieutenant said. “Now you, sir.”
Marcus’s hand trembled. He looked back and forth between Carter and the Templar, eyes growing wider and wider. Silvia’s hand latched onto Carter’s, gripping it tightly as she peered around him. Finally, Marcus’s gun slid to his side.
The Templar known as George smiled, lowering his own gun.
“There,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Carter sighed. Turning, he helped Silvia to her feet. As he did, she broke into an uneasy smile.
“We made it.”
“Yeah, we did.”
CRACK!
The gunshot barely registered in Carter’s brain. The resulting bullet flew past his head, cutting Silvia’s cheek.
I’ll hunt you to the ends of the Earth.
Carter shoved Silvia to the ground, swiveling around to face his foe. As he moved, he caught Marcus’s gaze. Carter struggled to pull his pistol from his coat pocket. Without warning, something flew through his left leg. It didn’t hurt, but before Carter could even comprehend it, he hit the ground.
I’ve been shot.
The thought whispered in Carter’s ear. Groaning, he forced a hand over the wound as blood seeped through his pant leg.
Where’s Marcus? I can’t let him get to Silvia!
Carter forced himself onto his knees. His ears were ringing. Ahead of him, his gun lay fallen in the mud. All around him, gunshots rang out. Carter reached out toward his sidearm.
When his fingers brushed the handle, something sharp grazed the side of his head, splattering blood across the ground in front of him. His vision blurred. Somewhere behind him, someone screamed his name, but Carter couldn’t remember who. Falling on his side, he watched as blood pooled around him.
Marcus stood directly in front of Carter, firing into the crowd of Templars. Marcus’s shoulder and side were bloody. Glancing over, he trained his gun on Carter once more.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, a hole burst through the side of Marcus’s head. Instantly, the man’s body went limp, and he slumped to the ground. Carter watched, unmoving. Somewhere far away, someone continued to scream his name. He didn’t care. The sound of his own heartbeat drowned out everything else, and black dots blurred his vision. As even that faded, Carter closed his eyes. A strange cold filled his arms and legs, slowly making its way toward his chest.
I’ll…I’ll just rest here for a while…
Chapter Seven
It’s so warm.
Carter’s thoughts slowly came back to him. Stirring, he moved to stretch, but his arms weighed him down, heavy and dulled. Sighing, he lay still, breathing in the silence.
“Hello?”
His voice, dry and cracking, barely rose above a whisper. Realizing his eyes were closed, Carter hesitated. What would he find when he opened them? His memories blurred together. Swallowing, he steeled himself.
No time like the present, huh?
Slowly, Carter forced his eyes open. He lay on his back, a light wooden ceiling above him. Turning his head, he stared at the cream-colored wall. His neck ached, stiff and sore, but he continued to swivel his head around, surveying the small room.
“What?”
When he attempted to sit up, his body erupted, pain seething throughout his limbs. Groaning, he fell back against the pillows. When he glanced down, he noted bandages covering his leg and chest. Tentatively
raising his hand, he felt gauze wrapped around his temple.
Marcus.
Carter sighed, letting his hand drop. He remembered. The standoff, the Templar Knights. Marcus, in a blaze of glory, ended up shot to pieces. Carter, having received a fair number of bullet wounds as well, couldn’t believe his luck.
I’m dead, right? No, this is way too painful. I’m definitely alive.
Carter lay in bed for several more minutes, spread eagle in nothing more than his boxers. Outside, the birds chirped, signaling a reprieve from the frigid eastern temperatures. Closing his eyes, Carter smiled to himself. Silvia would probably take interest in such a fine day.
Silvia.
Her name echoed through his head, snapping him awake. This time he ignored the pain, forcing himself upright. Next to his bed, an oversized chair sat parallel to his feet. A mess of blankets lay on the seat, and a scarf hung over the back.
How long was I out?
Carter’s mind raced. Back at the river, someone had screamed his name. At the time, he’d been too far gone to care.
It was you, wasn’t it?
Carter smiled, glancing out the window. The clear blue-skied day greeted him, beckoning him forward. High in the sky, The Shell gleamed in the sunlight, perching on its base like a bird on a branch.
She belongs up there.
Slipping his legs out from under the covers, Carter stood. His vision swayed, tempting him to fall back, but he held his ground. As the room regained its focus, he stepped forward.
Limping over to a table in the corner, Carter slipped on his pants and tank top. They smelled fresh, as if washed. Looking them over, Carter frowned.
Did Silvia wash these, or the church?
Pulling the fabric close to his face, he took a deep breath.
Herbs like this are quite rare. Looks like the Templars saved us after all.
Slipping out of his room, Carter found himself in the middle of a long hallway. Churches and monasteries openly sheltered travelers, yet the sheer number of rooms surprised him. He sighed. As the church grew in fame and popularity, it was likely to put roadside inns out of business.
“Can I help you, mister?”
Carter looked down, surprised by the voice. A small boy stood, his head shaved and his limbs garbed in a simple brown cloth.
“I’m sorry?” Carter said, rubbing the back of his head.
“Can I help you?” the boy repeated. “I’m learning the ways of the priests, and my master says to help any who would require my assistance.”
Carter smiled despite himself.
I see God’s little servant hasn’t been tainted by the sins of his superiors just yet.
“Possibly, yes,” he managed, noting the boy’s concern. “I’m looking for a young girl with red hair and eyes. She’s about my age but roughly a head shorter.”
The boy peered up curiously. “Is she your wife?” he asked, tilting his head innocently.
“N-no, but we are traveling together.”
“Oh.” The boy squeezed both eyes shut, racking the side of his head with his hand. Then, his eyes shot open, and he beamed up at Carter.
“I think I saw someone like that heading outside earlier. Follow me, mister!”
The boy dashed down the hallway without another word. Carter did his best to keep up, but soon his young guide doubled back, eyeing Carter with concern.
“Are you okay, mister?” he asked. “You look kind of pale.”
“I’ll be all right. I just got a little roughed up on my way here.”
“Oh. I heard Mr. Becket talking about that when they brought you in.”
“Really?”
“Yeah!” the boy exclaimed. “It was quite a big deal! They carried you in on the back of a cart, all covered in blankets, and Mr. Becket said a group of bad guys had cornered you at the bridge!”
“Was my companion with them?”
“Um, yeah. She was sitting in the back with you, and she seemed upset. Mr. Becket said it was because you were ‘really touch and go.’”
Carter’s eyes widened as he followed the boy down the hall. “How long ago was that?”
“How long?”
“How many days?”
The boy stopped, counting out on his fingers. “About four days ago. She didn’t really leave the room much. Mr. Becket came and went a lot, bringing her food and keeping her company and stuff, but every time I walked by, she was sitting next to you.”
Carter quickened his pace as they rounded the corner. Snagging his foot on the edge of the wall, he cried out, stopping as he braced himself against the wall. The boy stopped, staring back with wide eyes.
“Mister, you sure you’re okay?”
“I-I’m fine. Here, help me walk, okay?”
When they reached the doors, Carter leaned on the boy for support. Past the doors was a large dining hall. Monks and scribes lined the room, as did other apprentices. Many stopped, watching the boy help Carter forward toward another door in the corner. Some even cleared the way for him, waving as he passed.
“Why are they waving at us?” Carter asked, glancing around.
“Hmm? Oh, talk spread pretty quick about how you protected your friend from those bad guys. That’s why you came in so banged up, and she came in with only a few scratches, right?”
Flushing, Carter looked straight ahead, too embarrassed to meet anyone’s gaze.
Outside, the lukewarm breeze washed over Carter, sending his senses into a frenzy. He took a deep breath, letting the wind engulf him.
Hopefully it’s this tame all winter.
“Shall I go find her for you, mister?” the boy asked, peering up at Carter.
Shaking his head, he patted the boy’s head. Then, stepping away, Carter tossed a spare rugba into the boy’s hands. “I think I can manage from here, but thanks.”
The rusty, bronze coin caused the boy’s eyes to sparkle. “Many blessings upon you, mister!”
Without another word, he sprinted back into the church and out of sight.
Carter chuckled, watching the boy go.
“You big dummy,” a voice drawled from behind Carter. “I have to play you for a fool just to get some dinner, yet here I find you just giving away your money to children!”
Carter grinned, swiveling around on his good leg. Silvia stood behind him, her hands on her hips and her cheeks puffed out despite her overwhelming smile. Stepping forward, Carter threw out his chest defiantly, doing his best to appear serious.
“What? Priests dip into church funds all the time for their prostitutes and black market goods. Why shouldn’t an apprentice boy get paid for an honest good deed every once in a while?”
“Ugh, don’t even speak to me. I need to get a good look at you.”
Confused, Carter obediently shut his mouth. His companion looked him up and down, her red eyes piercing every point of his body. Then, after circling him several times, she stood in front of him again.
“You seem to be faring all right, everything considered,” she concluded.
“Well, I feel like I just got beat with a bag of rocks,” Carter breathed.
“As you should, you bumbling idiot! They basically had to sew you back together! My God, you do something that stupid ever again, and I’ll kill you myself!”
“W-what, you think I can help being shot?”
“Don’t give me your ridiculous excuses, or so help me God—”
“Okay, okay! You win!”
Together, they broke into laughter.
“Heh, you idiot.” Silvia chuckled, seductively slipping her arms around his.
This time, Carter knew better than to react. Silvia’s face lit up red as she puffed out her cheeks.
Carter merely grinned. “Pout all you want. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“So it seems. On the bright side, at least now we know you learn from your mistakes.”
“Now, that’s just mean.”
*****
Someone knocked on the door, drawing Carter’s
attention. Who could it be? Surely Silvia, returning from purchasing dinner, would have barged right in. Sitting up straight, Carter tidied himself. Then, clearing his throat, he addressed the visitor.
“Come in.”
The door slid open, revealing the hulk of a man waiting outside. At first, Carter didn’t recognize the man, but memories surged back in a flash, matching a name to the face. Lieutenant George Becket of the 55th Knight Squadron shot an apologetic smile as he closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, young master,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Oh, not at all,” Carter replied. “If you’re looking for my companion though, I’m afraid you just missed her.”
“That’s quite all right. I heard you’d finally awoken, and I wished to check in on you.”
“Well, thank you, that’s very kind.”
“Not at all, young sir. You gave us all quite a scare back at the bridge. I’d be a disgrace as a knight if I didn’t at least keep tabs on you ’til you recovered.”
Carter smiled sheepishly. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for saving us,” he said. “Both my companion and I are very grateful.”
George let loose a hearty chuckle. “It was nothing, young sir. We were just doing our job. But if you don’t mind my asking, why were those scavengers after you in the first place?”
“I defected from their party after they tried to sell my companion into slavery. She’s—”
“Say no more, I understand,” George interrupted, waving his hand. “Your companion explained it to me and the head priest when you both arrived.”
“Oh? Even her mark?”
“Yes. She was quite naive to share such a secret so willingly, if I’m being honest, but we are a good bunch. The wilderness has taught us much of honesty. The priest agreed to give you both asylum here until things cooled down.”
Carter nodded, digesting everything. “So, Marcus? Is he…”
“Hmm? Oh, the leader of that group? He’s dead. After he pulled a gun on you, we had to put him down. Our code does not allow violence against the unarmed.”
Carter nodded.
That’s it then. The Covenant will likely disband without a leader, and even if Drew steps in, I find it hard to think he will go after me. We should be safe from here on out.