by DJ Molles
Stuber glared at him. “You. Kid.”
“Me?” A spark of terror.
“Yeah, you. Come stir this pot. I’ll take the bandages to Petra.”
Not even the slightest hesitation. The kid dropped the rags and slunk to the big iron pot in an awkward, slope-shouldered way, his arms all stiff at his sides.
Stuber didn’t bother handing him the stirring stick. Simply let it drop to the side of the pot, abandoned. He scooped up the pile of rags in his arms and bid the pot of depression farewell.
They’d moved Petra’s interim hospital to just inside the temple, the pot of boiling rags affixed to the oil-burner the flamens had used for…some sort of religious thing. Stuber forgot what it was. Eternal flame of faith or some bullshit.
All through the back rooms of the temple where flamens had once blithely slithered about and chanted prayers to gods that would just as soon kill them as listen to them, the sick and the wounded now lay. It wasn’t all peons, though there were plenty of them. Some of Legatus Mordicus’s legionnaires were in there, albeit sequestered, so the peons wouldn’t begrudge them their better food, or have their ears shriveled by the ribald jokes.
Even wounded, they never stopped talking about fucking.
Except maybe the ones who’d had their dicks shot off. But they found other things to joke about.
Stuber shouldn’t have minded treating them. They were friendly towards him, a fellow legionnaire, albeit a former one—no one really seemed to care that he was a deserter, as they all were at this point. But their smiles and their laughter only reminded him that he was an outsider amongst them now. A has-been.
Warrior-turned-nursemaid.
He found Petra, on her knees, shoulders deep in the innards of the defunct Surgeon they’d hauled from the Old Section.
“You know,” Stuber said, almost plopping the rags on the ground, but then remembering they were supposed to be sterile, and choosing to put them on a table that looked relatively clean. “Sagum would probably be a big help figuring that out.”
Petra retracted her head from the Surgeon just enough to send Stuber a sniping look from over her shoulder. “You think a woman can’t handle mechanical repairs?”
“I think a mechanic is better at mechanical repairs than a doctor.” Not that Sagum was really a mechanic, but he was trying to make a point.
Petra returned her attention to her work. “Well, you don’t get to be a doctor in a shitwater town like Oksidado without knowing how to repair your own equipment. I’ve fixed Surgeons before.”
“Great. Good for you. And how’s that going at the moment?”
“Shitty. Do you think you could convince Sagum to come?”
Stuber smirked to himself. “One way or another, sure.”
She tinkered with it in silence for a few more moments, then pulled away, wiping her hands and frowning at it. “Different model than I’m used to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Franklin.”
“Yes, my love?”
She gave him a very wife-like look. The kind that seemed to be x-raying him. “You remind me of a dog.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.”
She stood up and walked over to the pile of fresh bandages he’d left, started rolling them up. “I had a dog when I was a little girl. Did I ever tell you that?”
“I don’t believe it came up.”
“It wasn’t really my dog. It was one of several that ran around the slums. But this one took to following me. Then I took to feeding it. And then it took to sticking by me. Here.” She shoved a pile of hastily-rolled bandages into Stuber’s arms and started walking. He followed. “My folks wouldn’t let it inside the house. It was dirty, mangy, had fleas. That sort of thing.”
“Ah. I can see why I reminded you of it.”
A flash of a smile. “So it would just sit right outside the door. All night if it had to. I watched it one time, watching the other dogs. They had their little pack that would go around, hunting for scraps. It would watch them, and its tail would wag when it saw them, but then the tail would stop, like it remembered that it couldn’t join them. And it never left. Always just watched them pass by.”
“A good dog, then,” Stuber concluded. “Loyal. Did it have a name?”
“Shits.”
“Ah. A strong name, really.”
Petra shrugged as she approached a woman laying on the ground, only a threadbare blanket between her body and the cold stone floor of the temple. “All the kids called him Shits. In retrospect, he had a problem. Worms, probably. Chronic diarrhea.”
“And this inspired you to become a doctor.”
“No, that came later.” Petra knelt down in front of the woman, whose leg was wrecked, wrapped from knee to ankle in bandages spotted with blood and pus. Petra looked grim as she greeted the woman who looked half out of it, then leaned down and gave the leg a sniff. “We’re out of antibiotics,” she murmured, almost to herself. Then shook her head.
Stuber grimaced at the wounded leg, and knew without having to be told what Petra was going to say next to the woman.
“Hon…” Petra laid a hand on the woman’s forehead, wiped the sweat away, smoothed her hair back. “I tried everything I could.”
The woman began to weep quietly. Shut her eyes. Tears dribbling out the corners. She bit her lip and nodded. “I know. Do what you have to do.”
“I’ll get everything ready,” Petra said softly. “Don’t worry, I’ve held onto enough anesthetic to get you through the operation.”
Stuber stewed over Petra’s story while she gave the woman a matter-of-fact briefing on what to expect from an amputation. When Petra rose and continued on, Stuber fell into step with her again.
“So, I’m a mangy stray with a diarrhea problem, but ultimately a good, loyal dog that sticks by you.”
Petra stopped and looked up at him, her eyes kind. “What are you doing here, Franklin?”
Stuber looked at his pile of bandages. “Using my massive muscles to carry bandages for my lovely wife.”
She put a hand on his chest. “Yes. Exactly.”
Stuber frowned, quirking his head. “Seems like there’s more to it.”
“Your friends are out trying to stop the end of the world. And while I appreciate how much you love me, it doesn’t escape me that you’re miserable.”
Stuber coughed, shook his head. “I’m not miserable.”
“Everyone has something that they’re good at. For me, it’s saving lives. But not you.”
“I’ll admit, I’m much better at taking them.” He wrinkled his nose and wafted a hand through the air. “The wounded…they stink.”
“Yes, this is clearly not the profession for you.”
Stuber sighed, letting his shoulders sink a bit. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me. I mean, I know I lack a certain…uh…”
“Compassion?”
“Bedside manner,” Stuber corrected. “But I’m a damn sight better at bandaging these peons than that other kid. What’s his name again?”
“I’ll give you that. And I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled, a bit sadly. “I want you by my side. And I don’t want you to be in danger any more. But I wonder if that’s what you want?”
“I want to stay by my wife’s side and keep her safe.”
Petra withdrew her hand from his chest and gestured around. “I’m in the middle of the most fortified section of the city, surrounded by an entire legion.”
Stuber scoffed. “An entire legion of men that aren’t as awesome as I am.”
“Granted. But I think a hundred or so of them could perhaps equal one of you, and I believe there’s several hundred here. So I maintain that I’m relatively safe here.”
“Petra. I’m not leaving you.”
“Is that your ‘putting my foot down’ voice?”
“Yes. It is.”
It was Petr
a’s turn to sigh. Longsuffering. “I’ll never ask you to leave me, Franklin. I want us to be together.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. No need to talk about it anymore.”
She shook her head. “But there’s a fight going on out there. And I know you. I know how your mind works. And I know that every second you’re not a part of it is going to chap your ass. You’re like Shits, watching the other dogs run around doing dog things, and you want to join them but you feel like your duty is to stay by me. And I wonder how long it’s going to take you to become sullen and withdrawn about it. Maybe even start to resent me.”
“I would never resent you. You’re delightful, and I enjoy having sex with you.”
She leaned up and kissed him. “I don’t need a body guard, Franklin. I’m quite capable on my own, and I have been for many years, if you recall. If you choose to stay by my side, then just remember—you’re choosing.”
“Stuber!”
He jerked at the closeness of the voice and turned to find Mala stalking up behind him.
“Sorry to cut off your conjugals,” she said, rapping her longstaff sharply on the ground and jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “But Perry just got back.”
Petra grabbed the bundle of rags from his arms. “Go on. I can manage.”
Stuber hesitated, glowering, pulled in two directions, two duties that both demanded they were the most important, arguing it out in the brain. Mala was already walking away, glancing at him over her shoulder.
When he looked back, Petra had already continued on, and he felt slightly adrift, between those two women, the one that he wanted to be with, and the one that promised to drag him into another fight.
Another fight.
His mind was far from made up, but he did note that he wasn’t glowering anymore as he caught up with Mala.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
REUNIONS
The first checkpoint into Karapalida was manned by a rather ardent young decanus that seemed to believe Hauten’s buggy was filled to the brim with saboteurs or spies. Though what the hell they would sabotage or spy on in the shitheap that remained of the city was beyond Perry.
Eventually, Perry convinced the decanus to send a runner, though he was sorely tempted just to fly into the air and be done with it. But that wouldn’t help Hauten, and given the itchy way the decanus watched them, Perry felt like it would lead to a firefight.
So he let the runner run, a grumbly, older legionnaire, but one that had that long, skinny build that runners have. He bitched about it under his breath, but doffed his armor and shield and bolted off through the city, leaving Perry and Hauten and the crew sitting in an awkward silence.
Luckily, the runner was as fleet-footed as he appeared, and returned within twenty minutes, sweating, but not really all that out of breath.
“Daddy says to let them through,” the runner said to his decanus, in a tone that sounded a lot like you boot-fucking peon should have been added to the end. “He’s expecting them.”
The decanus drew himself up, clearly not caring for the fact that his suspicions had been proven wrong, but he waved Hauten’s buggy through in a stony silence.
When they arrived at the temple complex, Perry stood up in his seat, steadying himself on the rollbars and frowned at the odd scene before him.
“What the hell is this about?” Perry wondered aloud.
There were no crowds around the temple complex this time, so Mordicus’s legionnaires didn’t have a complete perimeter, but there was a wall of them towards the front of the complex, and on the other side, facing that wall of shields were…
“Praetors?” Chester said, sliding up next to him as the buggy slowed to a stop near the temple steps. “You didn’t say anything about praetors.”
A group of perhaps twenty of them, their black sagums draped over their shoulders, but weapons strapped to their backs and hands empty, were facing down two battle lines of Mordicus’s legionnaires.
Hauten threw the buggy into neutral and stood up, looking over his shoulder at Perry with a withering gaze. “More friends of yours?”
Perry shook his head, still confused. “Not that I know of.”
Hauten grumbled, scowling at them. “Better not be the ones that blew up my old buggy.”
Perry lifted an eyebrow at him as though to ask, And what exactly would you do about it if they were?
“And Shortstack returns, victorious!” A voice boomed behind Perry.
He turned and spotted Stuber, descending the temple steps alongside Mala. She held back as Stuber continued to approach and the buggy disgorged its crew. She watched them aloofly as the ones that had known Stuber greeted him excitedly with hand shakes and backslaps. Apparently he was immune to the disdain they had for Perry.
Hauten stalked around the front of the buggy, chest all puffed out, no sign of his limp. “Stuber, you sonofabitch. What’d you do with my LRG?”
Stuber went from warm to cold in an instant, brushing Chester and Bigs away like toddlers hanging on their father’s legs. “Your LRG? We both know that Charlize was always mine.”
Hauten managed to stand somewhat chest to chest with Stuber, though he still had to look up to meet Stuber’s gaze. “And what have you done with her?”
Stuber lowered his voice. “Well. If you must know. I used her up. And then I left her.”
Hauten gasped. “You didn’t.”
“Right next to the smoking heap of rubble that used to be your buggy.”
“That was a fine piece of equipment, you heartless bastard.”
“It ran out of ammo. And without ammo, it was a fine piece of dead weight.” Stuber looked skyward, as though seeing the mournful ghost of his abandoned LRG. “It still hurts me to this day.”
Hauten managed a smile. “How much to get you to abandon these fucks and come back with me?” He glanced behind him to Curly, his new hired muscle. “Curly’s big, but he eats too much and he can’t run worth shit. No offense, Curly.”
Again, Curly looked deeply offended.
“Not a chance,” Stuber replied.
“Well then.” Hauten sighed. “Fine.”
Perry sidestepped the gathering around Stuber and nodded to Mala, then gestured to the praetors and the legionnaires. “What’s going on?”
Mala seemed to ignore his question at first. “You look a little banged up, Half-breed. Did you not stick the landing a few times?”
Perry looked down at his scuffed up knees and elbows, scabbed over, rusty red flakes dried to his skin. “That. And some other things.”
Mala raised her eyes to the praetors. “More deserters. This time from our mutual acquaintance, Lux.”
“Lux? He’s here?”
“No. He’s out in the wastes, a few miles east.”
Perry frowned at her, sensing a deep, unspoken discord. “Mala. Why isn’t he here?”
She looked at him sharply. “Because I have ample reason to suspect his intestinal fortitude. Because he’s an Inquisitor, not a warrior. And because I’m not entirely sure he’s fully decided whether or not he wants to rebel against The Nine.”
“Mala, we need all the help we can get at this point!”
“And I’ll take help,” Mala replied, airily. “Provided it doesn’t put everything at risk.” She grimaced. “With someone like Lux…I just don’t know where his loyalties lie at this point.”
“What about Sagum? And Whimsby?”
“Whimsby I don’t know about. They were working on him. Sagum is out there with Lux. Mordicus offered him a free pass, but he declined. An errant sense of loyalty to Lux, ironically enough.”
Perry turned to stand side-by-side with her. “So these praetors abandoned Lux?”
“It would appear they share my feelings about Lux.” She looked at him. “You seem inordinately worried about this.”
Perry massaged the back of his neck. “For fuck’s sake, Mala, I’m trying to get people to work together!”
“Not every hand extended is worth grasp
ing.”
Perry turned back to her, glaring. He lowered his voice. “You know how much convincing I had to do to get people to trust you?”
Mala glanced sardonically over his shoulder. “What? With your merry band of scavengers?”
“Yes! With them! They don’t want to trust a paladin! But I convinced them to do it anyways. And now they’re here. And you’re telling me you can’t trust Lux. That’s bullshit. And it’s hypocrisy.”
“It was ultimately not my decision. If you have a problem with it, you should take it up with Mordicus.”
“Oh, let me guess, you just advised him.”
“Yes, I advised him. Wisely. And he wisely took my advice. You should try it.”
Perry shook his head, feeling frustration and sadness colliding in his chest. “This is never going to work if we stay at each other’s throats. How the hell are we going to win against the Guardians and The Nine when we can’t even work together?”
Mala sighed, but chose not to respond. “Mordicus did as you asked. The plant you mentioned has been refurbished enough to kick out the projectiles you prescribed. I believe they got started this morning.” She smiled wanly. “I must give it to these legionnaires, they’re efficient.”
Perry couldn’t resist a final comment on the previous topic: “Yeah, it’s amazing what people can accomplish when they work together.”
“Stop being sullen,” Mala sneered. “There’s an entire industrial machine waiting for you. I suggest you get your friends working on it so that we can actually fight this war, rather than talk about it.”
Perry disengaged from Mala with a parting frown, and sidled up to Stuber who had finally disentangled himself from Hauten’s crew. “Did you know Sagum was out there?”
“I had heard.”
“Did you know they won’t allow Lux inside Karapalida?”
Stuber’s brows furrowed. “I must have missed that last part. Why?”
Perry spat off to the side, jerking his head in Mala’s direction. “Ask her. On second thought, don’t bother.”
“Hm.” Stuber scratched at his thickening beard. “Old grudges, rationalized in new and exciting ways. That’d be my bet.”
