“What are you doing?” the child asked.
“Boy, it don’t matter none what we’re doing. What’s important is for you to get inside and get somewhere safe. Who’s in there with you? Your mama?”
There was no way that his family members could have been sleeping. Air sirens were sounding off around the military base, a constant ringing in the air.
The boy shook his head.
“So you’re in there all alone?”
“My brother and my sister.”
“Where are your folks?”
“Dad is fighting; Mama is at the hospital, helping.”
Sterling lowered his gaze on the boy. He knew they were in a war zone, and he knew what he was getting into, but the odds of the kid losing his father were high, and there was no telling what would happen to his mother once the bandits got hold of whatever infirmary the White Sands Militia had set up.
This got Sterling thinking, a notion coming to him that he hadn’t quite turned over before, not yet, anyway. The White Sands Militia weren’t his enemy. They had fought him in Las Cruces, but he had ambushed them. The Killbillies were his enemy, yet here he was, fighting on their side. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in the wrong here as he looked into the boy’s eyes, those big ovals taking in the man wearing all black next to a teenage girl clad in full body armor, the kid witnessing the state of the world to come.
Carnage incarnate, the only chance of unity like honey dripping from the muzzle of a gun, vultures circling overhead searching for carrion, bits of crushed clay pottery in a drought-ridden ravine—this was the world that the boy before him had already been introduced to, and the one he would have to face down yet again over the next few hours. Sterling was just as much to blame for that world as the men around him, even if he had a mission, as far-fetched as it was, and even if he more or less meant well.
“Find some place to hide, you hear me?”
The boy nodded.
He was glad when the kid turned away, Sterling wondering moments after he’d left if the boy hadn’t been a figment of imagination. Was there something else trying to communicate with him in some way, to show him the futility of what he planned to do? He couldn’t think like that, not now, not when he was this close to rescuing Roxy. He could hash it out later, with either himself or those that agreed to join him.
Back in the moment, Sterling continued toward the next house, the Sunflower Kid sending vines forward as she walked, not at all concerned if she was seen or not. This went against the stealth techniques Sterling had developed since he left Truth or Consequences, but her power warranted it, and if someone did happen to step out, their odds of survival were thin.
Two dirt bikes tore off and Sterling aimed his weapon at them, lowering his revolver once they were out of range. He could hear the fighting all around him, but the deeper they moved into the base, the less he was able to pick out distinct sounds aside from certain wails, pockets of gunfire staccato enough to cut a hole in the close-to-pale morning sky above.
Sterling spotted a playground with a couple rusty swings and a picnic table, equipment beyond it covered in purple tarps. Trust your instincts, he thought as he turned toward the equipment. Follow your nose.
He whistled quickly to get the Sunflower Kid’s attention. She turned to Sterling and followed closely behind him as he made his way toward the crates. A militiaman stepped forward, seemingly out of nowhere, one Sterling hadn’t sensed. The Sunflower Kid lopped his head off, using a plant construct as if it were a scythe.
They moved on, Sterling ducking once again once a few of the militiamen took to the sky. He turned to the Sunflower Kid and she gave him a look.
“I know what you’re thinking: if they can do it, I can do it.”
She nodded.
“I don’t got no need to fly.”
They weren’t the only ones in the air now. Glancing back toward the main theater of the fight, Sterling saw there was plenty of activity in the sky. The Killbillies had just breached the compound, but because of the watchtowers that had been erected, militia snipers took out anyone who dared hit the airwaves. Sterling saw this firsthand as a vandal in a yellow bandanna nearly breached the wall, only to die by execution.
The two moved on, keeping to the shadows of the crates. They paused when a pair of trucks drove by, Sterling surprised to see actual vehicles. This told him that the White Sands Militia had fuel, enough that they could waste on a gas guzzler like a truck. The two trucks had troops in the back, and the second one was just passing by when a root tore from the ground and slammed onto the hood of the truck, crushing the driver and the passengers. Those at the back scrambled to get out, a few of them seeing Sterling.
It was on.
He swirled into action, the end of his duster lifting as he drew his blade and cut down one of the militiamen. A sudden pain and blood exploding out of the back of his shoulder told Sterling that he had been shot. He crouched and returned fire, the Sunflower Kid seeing to the man who had managed to shoot him.
“Damn,” Sterling said once the militiamen were all dead. He placed his hand on his shoulder, the pain burning within him, as if they had coated the bullet with cayenne pepper. The other truck had been far enough ahead of the second one that it had just started to turn back. It met the same fate as the first truck, a roadblock lifted from the earth courtesy of the Sunflower Kid that flipped it over. She finished off the rest in the time it took for Sterling’s arm to heal.
“Let’s bring some with us,” he said as he raised five of the militiamen. They stayed behind Sterling and the Sunflower Kid as they came around another hangar, where he spotted the middle school, which still had its sign up. There were certainly guards out front, nothing that Sterling and the Kid couldn’t handle.
She was just about to advance on the guards when Sterling stopped her. “Let’s let these boys do the dirty work,” he said, motioning toward his animates. She nodded and his zombies took off.
Brrrrrt! Brrrrrt!
Automatic weapons were helpful against zombies, but they didn’t reduce the fear factor much, and if the zombies were fast enough and in a pack, which these young bucks were, they could usually make it to the shooter before they could finish their magazine. That was exactly what happened, two of Sterling’s animates mowed down, the other three reaching the men with the weapons and terrorizing them.
Sterling and the Sunflower Kid came up and finished the rest off relatively quickly, the guards outside of the prison all dead now. He looked up at the middle school, the glass out front surprisingly still intact.
“After you,” he told the teenage biomancer.
They entered the middle school to find that it was all steel cages and metal corridors, the inside clearly revamped by a flectomancer.
A mustached militiaman was just charging around a corner with his weapon drawn when he came face to face with Sterling and the Sunflower Kid. Vines wrapped around his body, causing him to drop his weapon. Sterling pressed the tip of his revolver against the man’s head.
“I’ll only ask you once. Where’s Rowayton, Roxy, the super strong woman. And where’s the technomancer? Nope, don’t even think of lying. Before a single word leaves your lips, ask yourself if you value your life. If you do, you’ll tell us where they are, and how they are being held.”
The militiaman swallowed hard.
“What’s it going to be, amigo? You either walk out of here—and I’d suggest finding a damn good hiding place if you do—or you don’t.”
The guard made the right decision, and true to his word, Sterling let him leave without killing him. Even if he sounded an alarm, it would do little to bring any more heat to them than they already felt in busting into the militia’s compound and freeing two of the prisoners. There were other prisoners, many of them Killbillies, Sterling ignoring them as he made his way to the back.
What was once an auditorium of the middle school had been converted into jail cells no larger than closets, an echo due to the high
ceilings. While most of them were cordoned off from the rest of the hallway by iron bars, the cells at the back were destined for the Adapted. And even though Roxy wasn’t one of them, this happened to be one of the cells that she had been placed in.
Sterling was surprised at how lucky he was to find that Roxy and the technomancer were across the hallway from one another. It was certainly going to make things easier. The doors at the front of the Adapted cells ere large and equally thick. Sterling placed his hand on it and knocked, judging just how dense it was.
He looked to the Kid, who simply ripped it from its hinges with plant tendrils, Sterling barely able to get out of the way in time. The commotion caused the rest of the prisoners to start shouting, pleading for the two mancers to release them as well. Sterling tuned them all out as he peered into the next room, his eyes falling on the woman who had brought him an equal amount of love and anguish over the years.
A modified gas mask was strapped to Roxy’s face, pumping her full of whatever chemical was sedating her. She was chained by some of the thickest cuffs Sterling had ever seen, Roxy in a hospital gown, a thin blanket over her body, tubes coming out of her going in various directions.
“Roxy?” Sterling asked, oblivious now to the commotion outside the door and, for that matter, the battle taking place throughout the military base.
“I’m disconnecting everything,” the Sunflower Kid said as flowering vines twisted forward and began gently removing some of Roxy’s tubes. They were able to break the chain that held her to the bed, but not the two thick cuffs around her wrists. Leaving her gas mask for last, the vines slowly began to disconnect the tube at the front and pull it away. Roxy’s eyes, which were shielded by thick glass, flickered open.
Confusion set in, but not for long. It was only about thirty seconds later that she removed the gas mask herself, the dark-skinned brunette blinking a few times, trying to make sense of what she saw before her.
The Sunflower Kid’s mask melted away. “We’ve come for you.”
Roxy looked from the Sunflower Kid to Sterling, her nostrils flaring open.
“What she said,” Sterling told her, trying to make light of the situation.
Roxy sat up with a contentious look on her face, her blanket shifting down her body to reveal more of her off-blue hospital gown.
“Hey…” Sterling said, feeling a lump in his throat. “I guess we have a lot of explaining to do…”
Roxy shifted to the edge of the bed.
She looked down at one of the cuffs on her arms and placed her fingers on it, crushing it, the metal falling to the ground. She did the same with the other cuff, her muscles bulging ever so slightly as she did so. Roxy stood. She was as tall as Sterling, lean yet muscular, her form disguising how truly strong she was. It had been advantageous to her more often than not, people assuming that she was simply fit, not the type of woman who could easily hoist a car over her shoulders.
She took a staggering step toward Sterling.
“Hey,” he said again, slowly lifting his hands. “I know this is a bit unorthodox, but you need to hear us out.”
Sterling was tossed backward before he could put together what happened, his jaw instantly broken, blood filling his mouth.
“Goddammit, Roxy,” he mumbled as he got to his feet, holding his broken jaw in place. Sterling tilted his head back, feeling the pain deep in his molars.
“That’s for leaving us three years ago,” she said with a shaky voice, whatever the militia was pumping into Roxy still in her system. Her Resolve would flush it out sooner rather than later. She stepped toward Sterling to punch him again, but was stopped by the Sunflower Kid, who got between the two of them.
“Not now.”
“You were there too,” Roxy said, oblivious to the plant tendrils lifting behind her, ready to control the woman if she got out of hand. “You know what he did.”
“It wasn’t his fault. It was the Godwalker.”
“The what?” Roxy asked.
Sterling knew it was his story to tell, so he lifted his hand, letting Roxy know that he would explain later.
“It’s not what it seems,” said the Sunflower Kid, also seeing his gesture.
“Then why the fuck didn’t you say something at the time?”
“I didn’t…” Sterling winced, his jaw still sore.
“What’s all this about?” Roxy asked, gesturing between Sterling and the Sunflower Kid.
“We’re back together again. We’re going to do the same thing we tried to do three years ago,” the Kid explained. “We thought you would join us. Next, we’re going to get Zephyr in Albuquerque. Sterling’s also met a few others who are interested, a solimancer, a pyromancer, and Raylan. Hopefully, a technomancer. That pretty much sums it up.”
She turned to Sterling. “You had to do it, didn’t you? You knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. You knew I would owe you for rescuing me,” she said, seething by this point.
Sterling spat blood onto the ground. “You don’t owe us shit. Your choice.”
“My choice?” Roxy curled her lips, which offset the delight in her eyes. She was hyper competitive, the type who was always up for a challenge. “You know me too well.”
“You’re in?”
Roxy hesitated. “You still owe me an explanation.”
“Fair enough. I’ll explain everything, but for now, we need to skedaddle.” Sterling pointed his thumb to the other side of the hallway. “We also need that technomancer. Raylan’s requirement.”
“There’s a technomancer here?” Roxy asked.
Sterling nodded, felt more blood pooling in his mouth, and spat again. “Thanks for going light on me.” He meant it. If Roxy had wanted, she could have shattered every bone in his face and punched him into the next century.
“I ain’t done with you yet,” Roxy told him as she shouldered out to the hallway, the Sunflower Kid joining her.
Thunk!
Sterling heard the metal door hit the ground. He waited a moment and then joined the two of them in the opposite cell, where a male technomancer was seated on his bed, legs crossed beneath him. He sported a thick golden beard and a pair of piercing blue eyes, rail-thin, the gaunt man in the same hospital gown that Roxy wore.
He pressed away from them. “What…? Who…?”
“We’re here to bust you out,” Roxy told him nonchalantly. “Surely you’ve heard the commotion in the hallway, and whatever the hell is going on outside.” She turned back to Sterling and the Sunflower Kid. “How did you bring a war to the militia anyway?”
“That would be the Killbillies.”
“You’ve partnered with the Killbillies?” Roxy asked, her lip curling again.
“Not by choice, although it might look like that once we get out of here. I hate them fools. Funny enough, they crucified me outside Radium Springs, same as they did you. Heard you busted your way out of there on your own accord. A buddy of mine from Hatch helped me escape. I got a lot to say about the Killbillies, including the bounty hunter they have now sent after me. We’ll hash it out later. Now ain’t the time.”
Roxy raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve joined them.”
“No, I mean, it was a temporary thing because of Don Gasper…”
“Don Gasper?” She shook her head. “What in the hell are you doing with Don Gasper?”
“Shee-it, I ask myself the same question every time I end up with the kooky old shaman,” he said, smiling at her as he rubbed his jaw.
“Who… Who are you people?” the technomancer asked, his voice trembling.
“We’re your best chance for survival,” the Sunflower Kid told him as her mask began to slowly form over her face.
“You’re a biomancer?”
“And I’m a necromancer. The name is Sterling.”
“People call me Rowayton the Indestructible, but you can call me Roxy. I’m not Adapted.”
“We’re really doing introductions?” the Kid asked, a rare flash of glee in her eyes. “In th
at case, I’m the Sunflower Kid.”
The technomancer took in the three of them incredulously, settling back on the Sunflower Kid. “That’s your real name?”
“Does it matter? Who are you?” Roxy asked.
“Me? My name is Maron.”
“There are a lot more details, as you can imagine, to what I’m about to tell you,” Sterling began, “but I’ll make it real quick. Three years ago, we were part of a team that tried and failed to bring down the Godwalkers. Well, we brought down a small one, but I’m talking about one of them big ol’ boys. Now, we’re back together,” he said, sensing hesitation from Roxy. “We want to do it again, and we want you to join us.”
“Bring down the Godwalkers?” Maron chewed his lip nervously. “That’s… That’s suicide.”
“Says the man trapped in a jail cell in the middle of a desert. What I’m trying to say here, Maron, is this: what the hell else do you have to do? Can’t be much going on in your life, at least by the looks of it.”
“How about this? You escape with us, and you can make your decision later,” Roxy said, her style of reasoning similar to Sterling’s. “There’s no point in debating the merits of what we plan to do right now, not here, anyway. You aren’t the only one with apprehensions.”
Sterling cleared his throat, his jaw fully repaired now. It took a moment, but finally Maron looked up at the three of them and nodded. “I… I guess. Yeah, sure. I can go with you.”
“That’s the spirit,” Sterling told him. “Now, all we have to do is bust out of here, and get just about as far away from this here war zone as we can. And before you ask what the hell is going on out there, it’s a battle between the Killbillies and the militia, and we ain’t on either side.” He turned his attention to the Sunflower Kid. “Maybe we should circle back around to where Don Gasper was. What do you think?”
“And Magdalena?”
“Dammit.”
“Magdalena?” Roxy asked.
“Don Gasper’s sorceress girlfriend, lover and sometimes enemy. It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it because it pisses me off.”
Cowboy Necromancer: Infinite Dusk Page 46
