Wilson followed me to the wagon. An old lady who had to be sixty worked over a wood-burning grill. There were taco shells in one rack and tortillas for burritos in another.
“You’ve made a man’s dreams come true,” I said to the woman as I reached the rough counter she had set up around the grill. “I haven’t had tacos in decades.”
“You don’t look old enough to have lived long pre-Fall. Probably no more than ten years. You had tacos?”
“Little older than I look, Gran,” I said. “Had tacos before the Wars really heated up.”
She nodded. “Age is treating you well. What can I prepare for you?”
“I want four hard shells and whatever my large friend wants.”
She turned her gaze to Wilson. “You, I would guess, have never had a taco.”
“You’d be right,” he said. “I’ll try the same as he got.”
She reached into the wagon and drew out some peppers I never thought I would see again.
“Jalapenos?” I asked.
“We grew our first crop this year from some seeds we traded for from the West Caravans.”
The West Caravans traveled the route between the eastern coast and the western coast of the continent we lived on. It was a hell of a distance, and there were several Rad Zones in the middle of what used to be a great country. The nukes had been used to destroy the part of the country that produced most of the country’s food. They had planned to cripple the Obsidian Corporation, which had gained control of that country.
The Caravans traveled far to the south to pass the Rad Zones and were the only connections we had with the other side of the fallen land.
“How would you like them topped?” she asked.
“Load ‘em down,” I said, my mouth watering.
“And you?” she asked Wilson.
“I really don’t know,” he said. “Same as his, I guess.”
“Two scrip,” she said.
I motioned Wilson back and slid another Old World coin across the counter, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. It really wasn’t common to use Old World coins. They weren’t just lying around everywhere. Dealing with the Farmers was a good way to cash them in, though.
She started to make change, and I motioned for her to stop.
“I could use a little information, Gran.”
“You ask, and I’ll decide if the pay is enough.”
“Nothing major,” I said. “My friend and I are in a hurry to get to Jaxom’s Zone, so we can’t stay and really look around. I need to know if Grenwas is with you folks this year.”
“Yes, he is,” she said. “You’ll find him around the Scraper about halfway down the street. I’m guessing you need weapons?”
“That, we do. You keep that, and good fortunes be on your day.”
“That information is free, young man, but I have something that may interest you. What sort of weapons do you need?” she asked. “My son was lost to us in an accident this last year. He was of the Farmers’ Guard. I intended to sell his weapons while in the city this week. If you are fond of the blade, the Farmers’ Guard use only the best.”
“Very fond of blades,” I said. “It’s not often quality weapons are available. I would love to see what you have.”
She went to her wagon and pulled a chest from the corner. She laid it atop the counter and opened it. In a gleaming line were twelve beautiful throwing blades. They rested on a harness with scabbards for each blade.
“Now, that is beautiful,” I said. “I was expecting a sword or dagger. These are magnificent. Price?”
“A hundred and fifty scrip,” she said. “This coin is worth twenty. So, we knock that off…”
“No, that’s yours,” I said. “Here’s the rest. Not often I find this quality. The only thing I’ve found of this high quality is my razor. It’s made with Old World tech, and it’s better grade metal than most anything I’ve seen. I think these may be Old World-forged, too.”
I slid several Old World coins to her and took off my coat. After a few minutes of adjustments, the harness with twelve blades was over my shirt.
She saw the pistol I had taken from Corso in my waistband.
“He also had a holster that attached to the harness. It’s under the cloth.”
I lifted the cloth and found a worn leather holster that matched the harness. I attached it under my left arm. The pistol slid into the holster easily, and I pulled the thong over the hammer to hold it snugly in place.
“Nice,” I said. “One stop shoppin’.”
“Now, let me finish your tacos,” the woman said and returned to stacking tacos.
“Never knew you to carry anything other than the razor, Kade.”
“I got a feelin’,” I said.
“That’s a little ominous,” he said.
“Yea, that’s the feelin’ I’m getting.”
We left the woman’s wagon with our hands full of tacos. I showed Wilson the proper way to eat a taco without losing most of it down the front of your chest. They were even better than I remembered. No industrialized ingredients; all Farm fresh. I was impressed, to say the least.
The harness felt different, but I would get used to it in short order. Now we had to find Grenwas. Then we would meet Drekk in Jaxom’s or catch up to him if we missed the Caravan. Drekk had some explaining to do.
“We still need Grenwas?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I need some bullets for this gun.”
“Bullets?” he asked. “That’s even more ominous. You never use guns.”
“They’re forever runnin’ out of bullets,” I said, “but it may be handy at some point. Worthless without bullets.”
“True enough,” he said. “Too bad we don’t have a chapter here. We could get ammo there.”
“That’s just weird,” I said. “It’s the Society of the Sword, not the NRA.”
“NRA?”
“Pre-Fall nonsense,” I said. “Sorry, I get a little mixed up sometimes.”
We rounded the corner as I finished my last taco. I could see Grenwas’ wagon down the street. I also saw someone paying us a great deal more attention than I was comfortable with. The man turned and hurried into a building erected alongside the Scraper.
“Trouble soon,” Wilson said. “Keep your eyes open.”
“I saw him,” I said. “He’s a local, but it looks like he recognized us.”
“Recognized you,” he said. “No huge bounty on my head.”
“You disappointed? I’m not. Expected as much.”
“Shut up.”
We reached Grenwas’ wagon.
“Mathew Kade!” Grenwas exclaimed and shook my hand. “What can I do for you today?”
“Need some bullets for this,” I said as I laid the revolver down on the counter he had erected around his wagon.
“Looks like a .44 caliber,” he said and lifted it up to examine it. “Ruger was a good firearm in its day. Still holds up well.”
“Got anything that’ll fit it?”
“I sure do,” he said. “I have a box of thirty cartridges that’ll fit this. Five hundred scrip is the best I can do. High demand for these.”
“I’ll take ‘em,” I said.
Bullets are expensive. There’s a booming business selling death in this Fallen World.
* * * * *
Chapter 6
We walked north toward Jaxom’s Zone.
“Gonna be pushin’ it to get there before Drekk passes through,” Wilson said. “Might have to chase him down.”
“True enough,” I said. “That doesn’t bother me as much as you might think. Better if we aren’t right on top of the Scraper when we find him.”
“Ya gotta point,” he said. “Do ya even know how many guards he uses on his Caravan?”
“Probably twenty or so,” I said. “Don’t feel sorry for them. They work for Drekk, knowing full well what he’s doin’.”
“Wasn’t feelin’ sorry for them,” he said. “Just wondering how we would split
the number.”
“We’ll be fair,” I said. “Half and half.”
“I can live with that.” He chuckled. “He’s probably got guns.”
“We’ll jump off that bridge when we get there, but I expect many guns.”
“Me too.”
“Good, you may not be disappointed, then.”
“Shut up.”
I chuckled.
“Disappointment has a way of draggin’ you down,” I said. “You’ll live longer if you don’t have so many disappointments clutterin’ up your mind.”
“I hate you, old man.”
I laughed. “I guess I’m lucky your boss likes me.”
“Still tryin’ to figure that one out,” he muttered.
We turned left at the next corner. The huts and shanties looked even more dilapidated than the ones in Zane’s territory. This was Polk’s Zone, and he was a greedy bastard who bled his people dry to support his luxurious lifestyle. He was a pretty despicable guy. The problem for his people was that they couldn’t leave and go to another Zone. They couldn’t afford a Caravan and most local Zones wouldn’t allow new settlers. They were trapped under the thumb of their greedy Warlord.
But he was the one with the guns, so what could they do?
The next Zone to the north was Jaxom’s, but it was already after noon, and Drekk could already be there and gone.
“Nine o’clock,” Wilson said.
“I see ‘em,” I answered.
Four guys were waiting in the shadow of Polk’s Scraper.
“Looks like they’re waitin’ for someone,” Wilson said.
“Definitely waitin’ for us,” I said.
“It could be a coincidence.”
“What’d we just discuss about disappointment?”
He sighed as the men saw us and the one furthest away ran back into the Scraper.
“Now, you’re disappointed.”
He sighed again.
“Just keep goin’,” I said. “When I give the word, we’ll attack.”
“Gotcha.”
We continued down the street and passed the guys, acting like we didn’t see them.
We were half a block past the lookouts when there was a commotion behind us, and Polk’s guards poured out of the Scraper looking right and left.
“Shit,” Wilson said.
“Could be worse,” I answered.
More guys poured into the street from the side of the Scraper. There had to be thirty guards in the street. They saw us and pushed through the people in front of Polk’s.
“Dammit!” Wilson exclaimed. “Don’t say anything else.”
“Run,” I said.
We bolted.
“I hate running,” Wilson said between breaths.
“Me too,” I answered.
I heard gunfire as a bullet whistled past my ear.
“Idiots!” I muttered. “People packed in the streets ahead of us.”
“I don’t think they care who they shoot, as long as one of ‘em is you.”
“Rethinkin’ that whole ‘backin me up’ thing yet?”
“Can’t.” His breaths were getting more pronounced. “More scared of her than them.”
“Save it, Wilson,” I said. “Just breathe. I have a plan.”
“Oh shit,” he panted.
I glanced back. They were falling further behind.
“Slow down a bit,” I said, through my steady breathing. It pays to keep fit. Wilson was fit, but he was huge. Harder for him to keep running than it was for me.
“Thought we were trying to lose ‘em,” he gasped.
“One more block,” I said, and we ran on.
Occasionally, I would hear the whine of a bullet and a gunshot. We crossed into Jaxom’s Zone and neared his Scraper. The group didn’t halt at the border. Seems Polk really wanted this bounty.
I didn’t see a Caravan in the street in front of Jaxom’s, but there were a lot of people there. This usually happened when a Caravan pulled out from one of the Scrapers. He couldn’t be far. He would have gone south at the next street.
I rounded the corner with a yell. “Eureka!”
The Caravan was right around the corner. There were guards surrounding the six wagons, and I saw the familiar bulk of Hodipis Drekk right in the center.
I plowed through the surprised guards and grabbed Drekk at full speed. We tumbled over and behind the wagon to his left. Wilson was right behind me.
Thirty-two of Polk’s men rounded the corner as we ducked down, and they opened fire. Twenty-eight Caravan guards ducked and located the gunmen.
Thunder rolled through the city streets as sixty guns opened fire.
I giggled and looked over at Drekk as he struggled to a sitting position.
“Hodipis!” I said. “How the hell are ya?”
“What is the meaning of this?!”
“Oh,” I answered. “We have some things to discuss, you and I.”
The gunfire had stopped, but the groans and screams could still be plainly heard. I peeked around the wagon for a second.
“Looks like three guys left out there,” I said. “Sorry ‘bout your guards, Drekk.”
I stood up, and my hands blurred as I launched three knives, one after the other.
“Polk needs new guards, too.”
Drekk struggled to his feet to see the carnage that had been wrought in the streets.
“What have you done, you bastard?”
I turned back to Drekk with that dead look in my eyes. “The question is, what have you done, Hodipis Drekk?”
He tried to back up, only to run into a wall named Wilson Poe.
“Maddy Hale.”
His face paled.
“Tell me everything, Drekk,” I said. “I’ve already seen Denton. I know his end of it.”
“I d-don’t know where she w-went.”
“Where was she supposed to be? You wanted ransom but never followed up.”
“Th-the d-damn Clowns…”
“You gave her to the Circus!?”
“N-no,” he stammered. “I had a deal with the damn Clowns to hold her till the ransom got paid! We done it a lot of times. They said the guy who was to deliver her didn’t show, and the girl is gone!”
I heard thumping from the wagon we were standing beside. Muffled yells sounded.
“Hold him,” I said, and Wilson clamped down on Drekk’s shoulder with a huge hand.
I moved to the back of the wagon and unlocked the door. I drew my gun from its holster and opened it. Inside were three women huddled in a corner. I said women, but two were little more than kids, fourteen or fifteen years old. All three were naked and bruised, and I didn’t have to guess what had been happening to them. Something stirred inside me, a rage, but not just anger.
How had things come to this? A once-great civilization reduced to this.
“Stay in here for a second,” I said. “I’ll finish with Drekk, and we’ll get you somewhere safe.”
I walked around the wagon and shot Drekk in the head.
Wilson looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Look in the wagon,” I said.
Jaxom’s guards rounded the corner, and I walked out to meet them. Jaxom was among the guards.
“Mathew,” he said, with a nod, “why are there over fifty bodies in my street?”
“Sorry about that, Jaxom,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, you have six Caravan wagons full of goods to move into your Scraper.”
“That helps,” he said, “but it’s not really a good reason for why I have bodies littering my street.”
“Short version,” I said, “Drekk kidnapped the wrong girl. He has three more in his wagon who are gonna need treatment. I expect you to put them up until Teresa Manora gets here to collect them.”
My words were a statement, not a question. He could see the fury stirring beneath my surface, and he didn’t argue even for a second. He nodded.
“Everything else is yours.”
“Generous,�
� he said.
“I don’t need a baggage train,” I said. “You can use it here. I could use a couple boxes of .44s if you got any.”
“I could scrape up a few,” he said.
“I’ll owe ya one.”
Wilson walked up to Jaxom’s guards. He pointed at three.
“Give me your coats.”
Jaxom saw the look on Wilson’s face. “Give ‘em the coats.”
Wilson walked back around the wagon. In a few moments, he returned with three forms huddled together. He walked up to Jaxom.
“Take care of these ladies. If anything happens to ‘em, the Society will be back in force. You understand?”
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to them, son,” Jaxom said. “I’m not that idiot next door.”
“I used the shortwave in the wagon to call Teresa,” Wilson said. “A group of Knights will be here tonight to pick them up. The Society will take care of them.”
“Understood, Knight,” Jaxom said.
“I’m no Knight,” Wilson said.
“You sound like one.”
Wilson nodded and stepped back into his ‘back up’ position.
“You get me that ammo, and I’ll be on my way,” I said.
“Where to, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Polk just sent thirty-two men to kill me,” I said. “I think I’ll pay him a visit. Then I have to go see a Clown.”
“Circus is an evil place, Mathew,” he said. “I’d be careful in there.”
I nodded.
Jaxom was one of the better Warlords. He was tough, but he was also merciful. He didn’t hurt people unless they needed it. I had no doubt he would keep those girls safe until Teresa arrived.
Mercy is a rare commodity in this Fallen World.
* * * * *
Chapter 7
“So,” Wilson said. “We gonna have a talk with Polk?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good,” he said. “That was about ridiculous.”
“Worked out pretty well though.”
“True enough.”
“I think he needs a lesson,” I said as I retrieved my blades from the throats of three of his men. I spied the perfect thing. I picked up a two-foot-long piece of steel tubing one of his men had at his waist for a melee weapon.
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