by Ken Lange
“Fair point.”
I scooped the corpse up, walked over to the makeshift grave, and unceremoniously dropped the asshole in.
After filling in the hole, Cole cautiously made his way over and knelt next to the things I’d laid out on the ground. “Anything useful in here…other than his name, that is?”
I frowned. “Doubtful. The biggest clue in there is a receipt from Gems Home Center for some propane canisters.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Can I see that?” I leaned over, picked it up, and handed it to him. After several seconds, he grinned. “I know the place. It’s in Grants.”
I cleaned up the last of his things and pocketed them. “Guess we’ve got somewhere to start looking, once we get out of here.”
His expression soured. “True. We need to fix the truck, and to do that, we need the distributor cap.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Guess that means searching the desert till we find it…or till we give up and walk into town.”
He crinkled his nose. “Trust me, you’ll want us to find it. Highland Meadows is nearly as friendly as Lewis and his brothers.”
It took us about half an hour to find Mikhail’s basecamp. He’d holed up in a nearby cave outfitted with the bare minimum. An old green Coleman stove with several propane canisters, both used and new. A water collector to take moisture out of the air, attached to a plastic fifty-five-gallon drum, and a host of other things to turn any cave into a home away from home. While I couldn’t tell you how long he’d been out here, it looked like a while.
I wasn’t sure how necromancy worked—no one was, except necromancers, of course—but it was my guess he’d stayed out here to watch over his horde. It wasn’t as if he could leave them unattended for long. There was a chance they’d wander off, or someone might stumble on them and alert the authorities.
The state of the undead last night told me they’d been decomposing for quite some time, which led to several questions: Why had he built up such a large force so far outside of town and kept them around for so long? What had he meant to use them for? If he’d intended to overrun the nearby towns, he could’ve done that without too much resistance. Until he showed up in Grants. At that point, I was sure Lewis would send his attack dogs, John and Angus, out to deal with the problem.
Lewis didn’t seem like a man who would take kindly to anyone trying to infringe on his territory.
Then again, maybe he’d known about this guy all along, and had used me to take care of the issue. And by issue, I meant me or the now-deceased necromancer, because this was sort of a win-win for him. One of us was going to die here, and he didn’t have to get his hands dirty to make that happen.
What an asshole.
My dislike for the Grants family continued to grow by the second. I wasn’t happy that the jerk thought he was running his own fiefdom out here, and I got the distinct impression he believed he wasn’t beholden to the Archive. That was a misconception I’d have to rectify sooner rather than later.
Cole made a racket when he pulled the distributor cap out from under the cot and held it up for me to see. “Found it.”
That was one bit of welcome news. I smiled. “Great. Does that mean we can get the truck started?”
He frowned. “No idea, but we’re one step closer.”
It took us twenty minutes to make it back to the trailer. I went inside to get a drink, and Cole popped the hood to see what he could manage. A half hour later, we were still stuck. Two of the spark plug wires were mangled beyond repair. With no cell service, we had about an hour’s walk to get to Highland Meadows.
Chapter 8
I’d spent a lot of years out in the deserts of the mid-east, and while they had a particular beauty, it paled in comparison to the terrain here. There were a lot of reasons for this—the unique vegetation, the fact that it was winter, which meant I wasn’t sweating my ass off, and that this wasn’t a warzone, which meant no one was shooting at me. So you can see how I might find one much more appealing than the other.
The only bad thing so far was that it’d taken longer than anticipated to reach the town. Personally, I didn’t think a few dirt roads, several shacks, and some power lines warranted the title, but then again, it wasn’t up to me. There was a shanty on the edge of the city limits that doubled as a general store, but that was it. Long and short of it was, there wasn’t a parts store nor a mechanic for fifty miles. Our only hope was to find a landline, call Danielle, and pray she could get the parts to us before dark. The last thing either of us wanted was to go for round two with the zombies…especially since I wasn’t sure there was a repeat performance in me.
Glancing over at Cole, I asked, “Any chance they have a public restroom around here?”
Cole bumped his hand against my chest and pointed. “The bathroom is around back. I’ll go in and see if they’ll let me use their phone.”
I nodded. “I’ll be back shortly.”
When I pushed open a battered wooden door, the rancid scent of a toilet gone wrong took my breath away. Bile caught in my throat, and I was suddenly struck with a dilemma…did I really need to pee that badly? Unfortunately, the answer was yes. A few minutes later, I was desperately praying someone would turn a firehose on me to knock the stench off.
When I made my way back around, four of the locals were spread out in front of Cole. For his part, he was casually leaning against the building, taking their insults in stride. This was a scenario I’d seen often in my youth. Someone from the reservation would come to town, and inevitably they’d find themselves the target of wannabe thugs. I’d long since moved past anger at this type of thing; now all it did was disappoint me.
The leader, a heavily muscled blond man, wagged a finger at Cole. “What are you doing here, boy?” He spat on the ground. “You stupid or something? I’m certain you know your kind ain’t welcome in this town.”
Cole sighed. “All I need to do is find a phone that works, and I’ll happily leave. You wouldn’t happen to have one I could use, would you?”
The big man laughed. “My line doesn’t do smoke signals. Isn’t that what your people use to talk to one another? Or is it drums these days?”
His cohorts laughed at the lame joke.
Cole rolled his eyes. “Gee, I’ve never heard that one before.”
A tall man with dark hair who seemed a little slow glared at Cole. “Don’t roll your eyes at Charles.”
Charles grimaced as he glanced up at his buddy. “Good job, numbnuts. He knows my name now.”
His slow friend bowed his head. “Sorry.”
Charles shook his head. “It’s okay.” Fixing his gaze on Cole, he said, “You’d best learn your place…especially when you’re in the presence of your betters.”
At that statement, I laughed, and everyone’s gazes turned to me.
Charles gritted his teeth. “Who are you, and what are you laughing at, punk?”
I put my hand on my chest and grinned. “My name is Gavin, and as for what I’m laughing at…that would be you.”
He shook his head. “Are you one of them city folks who thinks people like him are human?”
I snorted. “If being human means being like you, I’ll pass on that honor.” Pausing, I let the insult sink in for a second. Trust me, they needed it. “If I had to guess, the lot of you don’t have enough brain cells put together to make a functional adult. That’s why you stoop to bullying folks who are different, not to mention smarter, than you.”
The doofus who’d gotten upset about Cole rolling his eyes dropped his shoulder, and lumbered my way. “I’ll crush you.”
That was a bad move on his part, because this fight would’ve gone poorly for these assholes even if I hadn’t recently absorbed the soul of a necromancer.
Sidestepping the shambling oaf, I slammed a fist into his ear. He staggered to the side and fell to the ground, clutching his head. Two of his buddies sprinted my way with Charles taking up the extreme rear for this little shindig
. I brought my knee up to catch the shortest in the gut, before hammering my fist into his jaw with a loud thwack. Pivoting on my back heel, I rammed my boot into the pudgy man’s throat then turned and backhanded Charles, knocking him into the side of the building. Normally, getting physical with these guys would’ve been the last thing on my mind, but I wasn’t about to let these assholes beat on me to keep the peace.
A siren blared, and someone laid on their horn. I stepped back with my hands in the air… Seemed a jail cell was in my near future.
A few seconds later, the godawful sound stopped. Turning, I found a firetruck sitting there. I dropped my hands and gave Cole a questioning look.
A small man with long black and gray hair stepped out of the cab. He quickly surveyed the situation and frowned as he looked at Cole. “Was this necessary?”
Cole held out his hands. “Hey, this wasn’t our doing. Charles started running his mouth then his buddy got pissed, and got stupid with Gavin. After that, things went south before I could stop it. Not that I tried to, mind you, but that’s beside the point.”
The small man glared up at me. “I suppose you’re Gavin?”
I nodded. “I am.”
He held out a hand in my direction. “I’m Atsidi Sani.”
The name sounded familiar, but it took me a second to place it. “The silversmith?”
A smile broke across his stern features. “Among other things.” Atsidi glanced over at Cole. “Why are you traveling with an outsider?”
Cole pushed off the wall and walked over to us. “I’m not. This is Isapo-Muxika’s grandson.”
Atsidi stepped back and blinked a few times. “You’re bigger than I was told.” He pointed at the downed men. “We can’t afford this type of shit, and you should’ve known better.”
If he wanted me to feel guilty about downing these assholes, he was in for a surprise. “All I did was defend myself. It’s not my fault that Goofy and his buddies are a bunch of racist pricks. Who knows, maybe this will teach them some manners.”
Atsidi jerked Charles up by the collar. “Get up, boy. You and your friends need to make yourselves scarce before something bad happens.” Once Charles was on his feet, Atsidi guided him toward the parking lot, gesturing at me as he passed. “Charles, when you were a boy, you asked me what I was afraid of…do you remember my answer?”
Charles spat blood on the ground. “That was a long time ago, old man.”
Atsidi grabbed his arm and spun Charles around to face him. “Do you remember my answer?”
Charles’s voice cracked as he spoke. “You said there wasn’t anything in this world you feared.”
He let go of the young man. “That’s changed recently, and if the stories are true, I fear only one thing in this life.”
Charles moved out of reach. “And what’s that, old man?”
Atsidi pointed at me. “Him.” His voice softened. “Do not test this man, Charles. You won’t live to regret it. Consider yourself fortunate that you’ve met death and walked away.”
Charles sneered as his gaze tracked over me. “Please, he’s a man, just like you.” He puffed out his chest. “And men have a habit of getting dead.”
Atsidi’s melancholy laugh made the boy flinch. “You’re young and stupid. I hope you live long enough to realize the folly of your ways.” He stepped aside and pointed at a beat-up sedan. “Now go, before you miss the opportunity.”
The four bruised young men took the long way around us before getting into their dilapidated, multicolored Cadillac and slowly driving away. Not that Charles didn’t try to gun it, but when he did, the car nearly died on the spot. Which meant he had to settle for puttering away at a snail’s pace while the engine clanked loudly.
Watching them drive off, I sighed. “You were laying it on a bit thick back there, don’t ya think? I mean, that was a little overdramatic.”
He took in a deep breath and shook his head. “If anything, I wasn’t explicit enough.” Turning his gaze to me, he said, “When the elders learned about you, we sought to discover your destiny by asking those beyond the veil about you.” He shivered. “But we’ve been met with mostly silence.”
Cole cocked his head. “Mostly?”
Atsidi nodded. “The one vision we’ve been granted was one of pain, death, and suffering.” His gaze locked onto mine. “And what little of your future we can see says you’ll find your home in the stars, and walk with the gods as an equal.”
I didn’t mean to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “No disrespect to you, but maybe you’ve foreseen someone else’s future. I’ll be lucky to make it through the next year without getting myself killed.”
His expression turned neutral. “We are many things, Gavin, but wrong isn’t one of them.” Before I could respond, he turned to Cole. “Why are you traveling with a vigil?”
Cole sighed. “It’s a long story, and one best told indoors.”
Atsidi thumbed over at the truck. “Get in. We’ll talk on the way to the firehouse.”
There were out-of-date tanks that rode better—and quieter, for that matter—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Over the fifteen-minute ride to the firehouse, Cole gave Atsidi the short version of the last few days’ events. There was a chance, slim but still a chance, that Atsidi might have the parts we needed. If not, he had a landline we could use.
Atsidi pulled up in front of a fairly new metal building and turned off the engine. Before I could open the door, he held up a hand. “Wait.”
I leaned back in the seat. “What’s up?”
He puffed out his chest. “Before you go traipsing around out back, I do have a condition for my help.”
Cole turned to him, and his voice had an edge to it. “Oh…what might that be?”
He grinned. “The two of you have to break bread with me this evening.”
Cole snickered and patted him on the shoulder. “Of course…I’d be happy to sit down with you for dinner anytime.”
“Agreed.” I checked my watch. 5:30 p.m. “Mind you, it’s a bit early, but I can always eat.”
He gestured at Atsidi. “The old man is on Golden Corral time.”
I furrowed my brow and gave him a questioning look. “Huh?”
Cole frowned. “Have you been living under a rock for the last thirty years or something? That was a solid old people joke.”
I shrugged. “Might as well have been, because I didn’t get it.” Thumbing out the window, I asked, “Think we could get out now? This seat is exceptionally uncomfortable… I think one of the springs is trying to give me a prostate exam.”
Cole frowned. “That’s less funny and more gross…just in case you were wondering.”
I grimaced. “Wasn’t going for funny as much as factual.”
Atsidi snickered. “Bah… This would normally be where I’d chastise you about being overly sensitive.” He clapped Cole on the shoulder as he popped his door open. “But any excuse to keep from being subjected to his terrible jokes in a confined space is good enough for me.”
Cole glanced between us and sighed. “Figures.”
I hopped out of the cab and looked back at Cole. “What’s that?”
His expression soured. “I finally make a terrific joke, and the one person who should laugh doesn’t get it.”
Atsidi chuckled and climbed out his side. “Face it, you’re just not that funny. Or at least not funny in the ha, ha way.”
Cole flipped him the bird and followed him out. “Please, I’m fucking hilarious.”
Atsidi smirked and gestured at the firehouse. “If you’re done, I’ll show you two around.”
The white steel walls of the volunteer firehouse gleamed brightly in the evening sun. The faded red metal door was a stark contrast to the rest of the building as it appeared to have seen its better days two or three decades ago. It didn’t take long for him to show us all the important bits, such as the bathroom and dinner table. While Atsidi cooked, Cole and I went out back to see what we could salvage from the three re
tired firetrucks sitting there. While not a perfect match, the wires we were able to recover would likely work long enough for us to make it to Grants and purchase replacements.
By the time we got cleaned up, dinner was ready.
Atsidi handed us each a plate and pointed at the counter. “Help yourselves. If you want anything else, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do to round it up.”
I loaded my plate with shredded…pork, or possibly chicken, fry bread, and some beans. Seated at the table, I inclined my head at the old man and slid a small piece of silver across the table. “Thank you for your kindness.”
Ever since I left home, I’d always carried a tiny portion of the precious metal with me as a gift to anyone who might take me in for whatever reason. It was customary among my people to present the host with a token to show gratitude for their generosity.
Atsidi picked it up and smiled. “You are most kind.”
His eyes turned white, and the silver stretched out to wrap around his finger. It continued to morph until it turned into a beautiful band with symbols carved into it that I didn’t recognize.
He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the ring. “What is?”
Atsidi handed it to me. “This obviously belongs to you.” He beamed. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I couldn’t possibly take it back.” I shook my head. “It was a gift.”
He grinned. “And one I freely accepted. Now, it would be rude of you to reject mine.”
Reluctantly, I gave in and took it. “Thank you. How were you able to create something like this, anyway?”
Laughing, he said, “That part is easy. I’m an elemental, and metal is my specialty, so to speak. Normally, pieces like that are created through force of will. But, there are times that the energy stored inside chooses its own form. Such was the case with this one.”
The symbols appeared to be laser cut into the metal, and the softness was gone, replaced by something stronger.
