Peace in an Age of Metal and Men

by Anthony Eichenlaub

  He smiled. “You had it coming.”

  I gave him a flat look. “You were already working with Tucker.”

  “Trust, J.D.” Zane bit his lip. “You can’t trust anyone, can you?”

  “Near as I figure it was a distraction. You wanted me thinking of something else so I wouldn’t figure out what you were tricking me into doing.”

  “Tucker had just scouted the town. He figured, same as you did, that there was something going on and that the bank was the center of it.” Zane took a step back. “He decided he needed help. He thought it’d work best to place cameras and see if we could find some way to motivate you. Didn’t think it would happen so fast.”

  “And you figured I’d be more likely to help if I didn’t think you two were working together?”

  “He figured that.” He smiled. “I only went along because I didn’t have any better ideas.”

  “Seems there have been a lot of distractions.”

  Zane had a sad look in his eyes. He shook his head. “I was trying to do the right thing.” He took a step back and looked at me, eyes narrowed. He waved a hand, indicating my whole self. “This won’t do, you know.”

  “Trying to change me?”

  “No,” he said, reaching into his satchel to pull out a bundle of leather. “Just trying to change some of your clothes. I meant to give you this last night, but we couldn’t get to my car most of the night and I was too damn angry with you in the morning.”

  Words failed me, so I took the bundle and unfolded it. It was a dark leather duster, nearly black. On the back was an embroidered crow made with dark metal thread. On closer inspection, the material seemed lighter than real leather and the lining was a sleek mustard yellow that shined like silk. It was smoother than silk. I shrugged off my ridiculous leather poncho and slipped the duster on. The left sleeve was cut to work with my long, metal arm. The elbow was farther down and the sleeve billowed out more to allow for the larger hand.

  “Bulletproof,” Zane said.

  “Of course.”

  “Really bulletproof. You can get hit point-blank with a .357 Magnum and walk away with hardly a limp. It’ll stop most knives, and it’ll shield you from a flamethrower in a pinch. The lining will keep you ten to twenty degrees cooler than the outside air, or warmer if you need to keep warm at night.”

  I scowled. “See? This is the problem. You use tech to solve every damn thing, like it’s going to make life better.”

  “You have a better way to stop bullets?”

  “I don’t want to need to stop bullets.”

  “You’re going into something dangerous. You can’t expect to not get shot. Hell, you depend on tech to heal you. Why not depend on it to stop from poking you full of holes in the first place?”

  My jaw clenched, working back and forth. I didn’t have a good argument for him. “Slippery slope,” I muttered.

  He squeezed my hand and nudged closer. “And getting slipperier.”

  “And here,” he said. “I got you this.” He dropped a small cylinder into my palm.

  “What is it?”

  He stared at me for what seemed like several minutes with his jaw hanging low. “You…You don’t know?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s a battery, J.D. It goes in your arm, right there.” He poked a finger at a spot just under the armpit of my metal arm. “I noticed you were flinching every time you moved that thing, so I figured your battery was low. When I saw one in the junk drawer of Francis’s hideout I swiped it.”

  “Huh.” I dropped the battery into the pocket of the duster.

  “How long have you had that?” Zane asked. “Twenty years without a new battery?”

  “Twenty-four. And it recharges.”

  “Still…” He gave a disgusted sound and shook his head.

  I clicked my tongue and Muffin stepped up beside me. Zane gave her an apple from his satchel and I admit to feeling a twinge of jealousy at her affection. We led her and my skidder the few kilometers back to the ranch. Having him there with me felt good, like that moment of peace before a war. For once, could I let myself sink into someone, to become a part of another person? Could I be more than the lone gunman or the man who walks the desert?

  Not yet. After it was all over. Then I’d try. Once I knew we were safe from this threat, if Zane still stuck around, then I would know it was something. I watched him as we made our way back to Ben’s ranch. His jaw worked as he talked and the twinkle never left his eye. It only convinced me that he was a distraction. But he was a hell of a good one.

  We crested the last hill on the way to Ben’s ranch, and I stopped.

  A small army had formed, and they were preparing for war.

  Chapter 31

  “Howdy,” I said to Mina on the front porch of Ben’s house.

  She didn’t say a word, but continued to assemble her rifle. Wavy hair was pulled back in a long braid and her face was painted in what must have been an approximation of war paint.

  I sat next to her and waited while she worked. The yard was a bustle of activity—all manner of men and women working like a beehive of activity. Legs and Rosa were there with a whole pack of shiny-headed fools. My tribe was nearby, working on cleaning weaponry and readying makeshift armor. A group of Navajo worked with them, outfitting some of Ben’s old farm equipment with armor and weapons. Near the barn, Trish worked with a few deputies, readying a dozen horses for a ride. The way she handled herself around the creatures made me think she really knew what she was doing.

  “They’re all getting along,” I said.

  “There was some trouble,” Mina said without looking up. “But nothing a few strong words could not handle.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Troublemaker.” Mina stopped working and looked at me.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re a troublemaker. I can see it, but nobody else does.”

  Patting the pockets of my new duster, I found a tin case of cigarettes and tapped it until one came out. It made an odd sweet smell when I lit it, but it was pleasant enough. I’d have to remember to thank Zane.

  “Why am I here, you ask?” Mina continued. “Well, I’m here because the children are here. You know, the ones you were teaching about the glory of war? They were the first to volunteer for your little posse. Why are they here? Well, they’re here because Broadfeather said we needed to be here.”

  “You should have stopped them. None of you should be here.”

  “Talk to Broadfeather about it. He says there is a threat to our way of life and so we must fight.”

  “But you have no chance. You won’t even get close.”

  Her jaw set hard. “The horses can get us close. We will be like shadows striking in the night.”

  I shook my head, but she was right. Quintech might not even see them coming if enough tribesmen rode a night mission. If they could get in and strike fast, they’d be able to cripple any big defenses set up around Swallow Hill. Once enough tech was disabled, the flyers could swoop in with heavy weaponry. The plan made sense. It could work.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “’Round that hill,” she said. “They’re working on the big gun.”

  I shook my head. “Mina, we gotta get them out of here. This isn’t a place for kids.”

  “Really?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. She reached into a pack at her feet and brought out my Smith & Wesson Model 500 and a box of ammo. “Here, I brought you these. Thought you might like to have them.”

  The gun felt heavy in my hand. Awkward. The Model 500 was a huge gun, almost obscenely so. Toting this thing around was asking for trouble. Thing is, trouble didn’t seem to stay away if I didn’t ask for it. Maybe it was finally time to own up to that trouble and give a little trouble back.

  “It’d be better if the Navajo stayed out of it.”

  “Well, they’re in it, so just forget about that. Maybe you should visit more often.”

  “Dibe seemed to be a peacefu
l sort.”

  “Well, she left for home, but she seemed moved enough to leave some of her people to help.” She threaded a cleaning patch and rod through the barrel. “They won’t fight this battle, but they’ll help us prepare.”

  There was silence while Mina finished lubricating all of the moving parts of her rifle. She took good care of the thing. I looked over my weapon, reacquainting myself with it. It was heavy, but it was the kind of heavy that meant something. When I holstered it, it was like saying hello to a long-lost cousin.

  “Been a busy few days,” I said.

  “Sounds like it.” She snapped her rifle closed and worked the action, smiling at the sound of it.

  Ben stepped out of the house wearing his old black leathers and hair so spiky it looked like it might be a weapon. It probably was. “Sounds like what?” he asked.

  “We need a posse, Ben,” I said. “Looks like we got an army.”

  “Great, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s not great,” said Mina. “Armies invite army-sized resistance. We’re the smallest army in Texas. What we’re doing here is suicide.”

  “Not if we’re smart,” I said. “Not if we keep our strike small. Disable their tech, get Francis, and get out. Nothing more.”

  Mina and Ben exchanged nervous looks.

  “Walk with me,” said Ben. Without waiting for a response, he started out toward the barn. I followed, marveling at the sights as I went. The armored vehicles were some serious business. Plates of black metal were being attached to the vital points of flying cars, tractors, and even Ben’s broken-down truck.

  “What is this all about, Ben?”

  “That data cube,” he said. “There was a lot more on it than we thought.”

  “Like what?”

  “What do you know about the Civil War?”

  Marcus, Gertie, and Haley, the kids from my tribe, were assembling a Civil War–era long-range missile launcher. They weren’t having much luck, but the grins on their faces were enough to make it obvious that they did not understand the gravity of their situation.

  “I fought in the war,” I said, my voice low. “You know what that war cost me.”

  “But what did you know about it? Why was it fought?”

  “We fought for the right to live,” I said. “We fought for freedom.”

  We walked for a minute in silence, watching the heat mirages in the distance make the windmills sway in hypnotic dance. We passed Legs and a few of his thugs taking target practice at an old rusted barrel. He wasn’t a bad shot, but his buddies could hardly hit the thing. Rosa outdid them all with her thick-barreled rifle. Not only did she always hit the bullseye, but the caliber of the rifle was such that the entire bullseye was obliterated in the process.

  I sighed. “This isn’t an army, Ben. Armies have discipline.”

  “What if I told you Quintech was behind it?” Ben said. “And Goodwin was the other side. What if the Civil War was just a front for a war of corporations?”

  “Bullshit.”

  Ben stopped, but I kept walking. My first thought was to ignore his stupid fool theories. Hell, my gut had always told me to ignore that kid. He’d always done his best to be the kind of person I ignored. That didn’t make it right, but I still did it.

  I turned around but kept moving backwards, hands raised in the air in a show of surrender. “You got it, Ben. All my talk was nothing. I’m just a corporate stooge working for a blood-stained buck.”

  “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

  “You’re damn right I won’t listen.” Rage was bubbling up in my belly, hotter than the sunbaked stones under my feet. “You’re telling me everything I fought for was for shit. You’re telling me it was lies or that I’m a liar. How the hell do you think I’m going to react?” With that, I turned and walked the rest of the way to the barn in silence.

  Trish tipped her hat to me as I approached, and I tipped back. She was geared up in her duster and sheriff’s star, like she was here for official business. Her pistol hung at her side and her rifle hugged her back; she was ready for that official business to get ugly. She brushed down a knobby-kneed gelding and talked pretty to it. Zane emerged from the dark confines of the barn as I approached, having brought Muffin down after we had arrived. I tipped my hat to him as well, and he gave me a grim smile that didn’t touch the worry in his eyes.

  When she’d finished brushing the gelding, Trish turned to me and eyed me up and down. “Nice getup.”

  Before I could respond, Zane said, “Thank you,” and placed an arm around my waist. “Makes him look dashing, doesn’t it?”

  “He’s always had a rugged charm, if you ask me.” Trish touched the sleeve of my new duster. “This seems a little soft for his usual image.”

  “I’m right here, you know,” I said.

  “Wait till he breaks it in,” Zane said. “He’ll have it roughed up in no time.” With that, Zane disappeared back into the barn to chat up some of the deputies within.

  Trish broke into a big grin. “You’ve done well, J.D.”

  I scowled. “No arrest warrant for me?”

  “Just the one.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll hold off until after all of this.”

  “Now you’re going to hold off?”

  “I have been holding off, old man. Why do you think I sent my rookies after you?”

  “It got one of them killed.”

  “No. You got one of them killed. You turned the other one into a much better deputy.” Trish stole a glance at Green, who was working on getting a saddle onto another horse. “You showed him what it’s like out there. He knows that next time his quarry isn’t going to play so soft with him.”

  “You didn’t have to send anyone. You knew I wasn’t up to anything bad.”

  “I couldn’t just let it be. You know how this works. You used to be in my position. There’s pressure from folks around the area and from bosses up the food chain. Someone breaks into a company stronghold and you sure as hell better get a man on it or you’re out the door.”

  She was right, of course. Still, thinking of that deputy gored right in front of me left a sour taste in my mouth. He didn’t need to die. It was my fault he’d met that fate, and the guilt was going to suffocate me if I let it. When guilt does that, sometimes it’s only anger that keeps you afloat.

  “When this is done, I’m bringing you in, J.D.” Trish poked my chest with her sharp pointer finger. “You can come quiet or you can come kicking, but you’ll see a judge. Plea your case and you know he’ll let you walk.”

  “He won’t.” I brushed her hand back and looked her right in the eyes. “I’ve seen it done a hundred times where someone did what’s right and paid with hard labor.

  “But you’re a hero out here.” She gestured at all of the people working on the ranch. “When word got out that you were putting together a posse, people came. All them who heard it. Even Cinco Armas comes when you call. Never thought you’d fall in with that crowd.”

  “No choice,” I kicked at the dirt, sending plumes of dust into the air. “This whole time I feel like I’ve been moving one thing to the next with no options. If we don’t take their help, then we’re not getting anywhere. I hate it, Trish. It rankles me, and if there was something else I could do then I’d do it.”

  Trish looked me over for a long minute. “We know you’ll do the right thing, J.D. You’re the one person we trust to put things right. That means something. There’s nobody here who wouldn’t stand up for you.”

  “I don’t want them to stand up for me. I broke the law knowing damn well what the consequences were. A deputy got killed and I’m responsible for that death. Hell, if I were still the sheriff I’d send me up the river for good.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” She sighed. “Just be there so there’s no trouble. Last thing I need is more trouble from you.”

  Sticking my thumb out at the barn, I said, “How are the horses coming?
”

  She bit her lip. “Good? I mean, good.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing that will affect what we’re doing. More of them need harnesses than we hoped, but Ben’s supplies are good. Most of them are doing fine.”

  It hurt thinking of all those horses controlled by that tech. We were turning willful creatures into mindless machines for no other reason than the fact that they were willful. What other choice was there? There wasn’t time to properly break and train the horses. Only the oldest had any training and those had gone years without a saddle or a rider.

  “Chips away at a person’s soul, doesn’t it?” I said.

  “We’ll make it right once this is over. Ben said he’d trash the harnesses and start training the horses proper.”

  “Sure.”

  “Like you said.” Trish poked my chest. “Sometimes there’s no choice. You just do what you need to do.”

  I didn’t respond other than to tip my hat again and walk back up the hill to where Ben had joined the gangsters in their target practice. The rancher seemed to fit well with his old crowd. He gave shit as well as he took it. He lined up his shot, but set down his weapon when he saw me. He fell into step next to me. Legs and Rosa followed.

  Once we were back at the house, I turned and faced the groups working in the expansive yard. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I blew a long, loud whistle. One by one people started looking, then approaching. After a minute, the majority of the posse had gathered and was looking expectantly at me. In all, it was nearly a hundred folks geared up for war and another dozen kids and peaceful folk.

  “Folks,” I said, projecting my voice. “This is a mighty fine posse you’ve gathered up here. Lot of you are here to help and that exactly what’s needed.”

  Dozens of blank stares pointed up in my direction.

  “We don’t know everything about what we’re up against.” I took one last drag on my cigarette, dropped it to the ground, and stepped it out. “We know we can’t fly in because the tech doesn’t work in a circle around the town. We also know that anyone with eye or ear augments needs to stay back until we can disable the, um, the…”