Wasteland Treasure (The Deviant Future Book 2)

by Eve Langlais

  “No, I didn’t.” He heard the cool amusement in the words. “But then again, neither did you. Do we have an agreement?”

  “Recovering in your company in exchange for a baby. That’s a rather large demand.” He’d thought about becoming a parent. One day. In the very distant future.

  “So is having you stay here.”

  “Who will help you with the child after it comes?” Because he had no plans to remain longer than he had to. Axel and the others would be worried when he didn’t meet up with them.

  “I don’t need help.”

  He heard the defiance in her words. He wished he could see. See if that husky honeyed voice had a face to match. What of her shape?

  “Everyone needs a hand once in a while. What if you get sick? Or have an accident and die? Then who will care for the baby?”

  “I am not alone.”

  “Kitty doesn’t count. The cat can’t help you birth and care for a human child.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree then. And why do you care? You won’t even be around.”

  “What if I wanted to visit the child? Maybe take some time off from my regular duties in Haven and visit.”

  “What’s haven?” she asked.

  He realized he’d slipped. Rather than lie, he explained. “Haven is my community. My family.” None of them by blood, unless that spilled fighting for their lives counted.

  “You think you’re going to return.”

  “I have to. But I want to make visitation part of the deal.” Because it occurred to him that a child of his deserved to at least know his or her father.

  “If you insist, then yes, you may visit the child if you manage to leave and return,” she begrudgingly agreed.

  “I’m hard to kill, sweetheart. Now since we’ve got a deal, didn’t you say something about a cream to fix me?” Because he was done talking.

  “I do. First, we must rinse your face and other injuries. The dirt needs to come out of the wounds. Follow me.”

  He sat there in the dark and listened as she moved away.

  Waited and waited before she said, “Are you coming or not?”

  “You know I can’t see you. You’ll have to guide me.”

  “Stupid, useless man,” she huffed before stomping close enough to snare his hand.

  He rose and realized that long strides weren’t the way to travel when he stubbed his toe. “Ow. Fuck. Shit. Damn.”

  The words spilled out of him, and she uttered a…giggle. A sound both startled and sweet.

  “This isn’t funny,” he said through gritted teeth, his toe throbbing.

  “I haven’t heard anyone swear like that, well, ever.” She chuckled.

  “Let me hit my toe again and I’ll expand your knowledge of bad words. I didn’t realize the deal didn’t include keeping me safe from further injury.”

  “You are being difficult. When I landed here, I didn’t have anyone taking care of me.”

  “Are you implying you’re tougher?” he asked incredulously.

  “I thought I was stating.”

  “And were your eyes sealed shut?”

  “No. Because I remembered to cover them in the storm.”

  “Are you going to be long at this whole berating thing? Going blind here.”

  “Such drama. I’ll guide you. Stay close to me and I’ll keep you safe from the furniture.”

  She placed his hand on her waist, a solid waist, not skinny or fat, but pleasantly indented, indicating flaring hips. Out of curiosity, he placed his other hand on the other side. He couldn’t quite span it but came close.

  She tensed. “If you try anything, I will hurt you.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him she thought he might. Just like some men were all about honor, others weren’t. “I don’t force women.”

  “Good. Because it would be a shame if you accidentally fell off a ledge.”

  “Would you really push me?”

  “Yes.”

  He liked how she said it firmly and unapologetically. Behind her back, where she couldn’t see, he smiled.

  She led him outside. The sudden contrast in the air stopped him short. He inhaled, trying to make sense of all the scents. He wasn’t like Axel, who had an affinity with the wolgar and some of their heightened ability to smell.

  Gunner mused aloud, “The smell, the air, it reminds me of the Ajatarai Forest. And doesn’t at the same time.” Most forests were musty and dry places. Yet here, the moisture hung thickly in the air, mugging the skin, dampening the clothes. It made him wonder how she kept the inside of the house cool. “Do the trees move around at night?” The Seimor Woods had that particular characteristic.

  “The trees change locations?” she scoffed. “Of course not. They are planted in the ground, but still pose dangers. There are some you cannot touch, or you’ll burn your skin. And never trust a vine.”

  He chuckled. “That’s right up there with don’t smell the flowers.”

  “Or eat the yellow ones. They make you quite sick.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had to learn a lot,” he said. A subtle dig for info.

  As she led him, her steps slow enough to keep him from stumbling, she replied, “I went from a dome with meals, a roof over my head, and safety to a place out of an ancient story.”

  “Good place or bad?” he asked, not exactly liking being in the open unable to see and lacking his gun. He still had a few of his smaller knives in their sheaths, though.

  “A bit of both.”

  “You going to expand on that?” he prodded.

  “You’re being demanding again,” she grumbled.

  “Just trying to get a sense of where we are.”

  “Lost,” she muttered. Then louder, “Watch your step.”

  The terrain sloped downward, and he heard the rush of water.

  “Have you lived in this area long?” he asked.

  “Ever since my own storm dumped me here.”

  Those words caused him to stumble. “Hold on. You mean a giant wind brought you, too?”

  “I told you I handled it better than you. Happens a few times a year. It doesn’t always bring back presents, though.”

  “So you were dumped here and liked the place so much you decided to stay?”

  She dashed his hope. “There’s no way out that I know of. I’m sure once you’re healed, you’ll find a way even if no one else ever did.” She patted his hand.

  “Meaning?”

  “Others have tried. You can see the skeletons lying where they failed.”

  He tried to not let the news panic him. Just because this woman didn’t know a way out didn’t mean one didn’t exist. His luck would guide him. Hopefully better than it had when he got swept into the storm.

  “We’re at the stream. Kneel.”

  He heard the murmur of water over rock. “Is it safe?”

  “One would assume since I’m still alive.”

  Good enough for him. He hit the ground on his knees a bit harder than he meant to, but the spongy nature of it softened the blow even as it also soaked his pants. He leaned forward until he felt water, cupped some, and brought it to his mouth.

  The cold, crisp taste did a lot to revive him. He gulped a few more mouthfuls then began splashing his face, feeling the stickiness of blood and dust sluicing away. It ignited all the little scratches, making them scream in irritation. It was probably vain to be worried that they might not all heal properly.

  “That is some good fucking water,” he exclaimed, leaning back on his haunches.

  “It is.”

  “How far does the river go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you followed it to the end?”

  “Only to the hole in the mountain where it drains.”

  A hole meant a way out.

  As if reading his mind, she said, “There are many jagged rocks in that area, and it flows quickly.”

  “Is it deep?”

  “In some areas.”


  Getting her to give him full answers was proving a challenge. He kept questioning. “What about right here?” He flicked the water. “How deep?”

  “Not very,” she replied. “About thigh high on me, but—”

  Rather than keep listening, he splashed forward, stumbling and falling face-first in the water. His feet touched bottom easily, as did his knees. Thigh high for her wasn’t as deep for him.

  She squeaked at him, pulling at his arm. “You idiot. Are you trying to drown?”

  He knelt, flung his head back, and chuckled. “It’s not deep enough to drown. It feels damned good, though.” Amazing how a brisk bath could revive. “Anything alive in the river? Anything that bites?”

  “Not currently. We had a problem a while back with some kind of scaly creature. Nasty bite on it. But Kitty and I handled it.”

  Meaning she wasn’t aware of anything, but it could be in there. Keeping that in mind, he moved cautiously. Shuffling on his knees, he noticed the incline as the shore sloped into the river channel. He had to stand to keep his face and upper body above water.

  Away from the shore, the current tugged at him. It moved to his left. Bending only his upper body, he placed his face in the current, letting it stream past his face, cooling and cleaning the now looser debris in his cuts. When he finally flicked back his head, his face felt refreshed, which only made the throbbing of his orbs more pronounced.

  He still couldn’t open them. Which caused a mild panic. But he couldn’t allow that emotion to control him. First rule of living in the Wasteland, don’t freak out. His mother used to chant that at him every time his fear rose.

  Giant ten-legged arachnid with pincers as long as his hand? Don’t panic. Spear it and bring it to mum for dinner.

  Lightning all around and the choice was a single tree or a pitted landscape of past strikes? Play a game of pit hop, because they said lightning never hit the same spot twice.

  Possible blindness…sucked, but if it happened, not the end of the world. He could get some freaky-ass stone orbs like that seer out by the Chasm. Learn to use his mind to see and kick ass like that fellow who’d spent the night in the camp with him and his parents when he was a kid. A blind man with a cool etched staff. A man who royally trounced Father when he tried to steal the staff. And less than a year later, he had a sister who looked nothing like his father.

  At times he wondered what had happened to his sister. When his parents died, she was already off living with those travelling women. The Nuns Templar.

  “You going to stand there all day?” she grumbled, the water sloshing as she returned to shore.

  “Maybe. The water is nice.”

  “Then maybe you should stay here then,” she said dryly.

  “And miss the pleasure of your company? Never, future carrier womb of my child,” he teased as he turned and slowly made his way to shore.

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “It’s called flirtatious conversation. The concept will come back to you, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t flirt.”

  The sad part was he rather believed her. “But you obviously love, or you wouldn’t have that giant furball as a pet. Speaking of, where is Kitty?”

  “She’s not crazy about water.”

  “Water is life.” Another Wasteland mantra.

  “You have water where you come from?”

  “Depends on where Haven is. When we were living inside a hill, we worked our asses off getting a pipe to the shelter and, at the same time, keeping it hidden from Enclave patrols. But we lost the Hill, and as far as I know, the Enclave took back the dome.”

  “You stole a dome?”

  His lips curved. “Fuck yeah, we did. An Incubaii one with a right prick running it. He kidnapped the boss’s promised and beat the hell out of her. But in the end, we fucked him up good and took over the dome.”

  “Since when do the Wasteland Rats want to live in a dome?”

  “Since we’ve always wanted a home.” It was the one thing they all craved. Freedom was all well and good, but no one wanted to constantly have to fight to stay alive. Some days, it would be nice to lie in bed and not worry everything would go to shit.

  He stood, dripping. “I need a place to hang this to dry.” He stripped off his coat.

  “I can hang it, but I don’t have dry clothes for you.” She tugged the coat from his hands.

  “What about a towel?”

  “Not down here.”

  “Be forewarned, I am not walking back in cold, wet garments. If you’re shy, don’t look.” Because he had no shame, he removed his shirt and wrung it out, wondering if she liked what she saw.

  It wasn’t conceit that told him he had a good body. It was the number of people, men and woman, who watched him when he trained. Gunner never lacked for offers. But like Axel used to do, he was smart and kept his encounters to strangers and not those living in Haven where if things went wrong, he’d have to see them every day.

  “Hand me your shirt. I have a place to dry them.”

  “Is there room for my pants?” His hands went to the buckle.

  “There’s room to hang you and your enormous ego. So go ahead and remove whatever you like, although you might want to keep your boots on for the walk back. There’s bugs that like to burrow if you’re not paying attention.”

  “Maybe I’ll keep the rest of my stuff on.” Boot and pants given he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t shrivel him with the right word.

  “Good idea.” Her words hinted of mockery. “Your upper body appears mostly undamaged with the exception of your hands.”

  He held them out. “Fingerless gloves.” They fit like skin and didn’t retain any moisture from the river.

  “Why no fingers? What’s the point? I thought gloves kept hands warm.”

  “These are for gripping.” He made a fist. “Good when I’m riding a bike or need to use a weapon.”

  “You fight a lot?”

  “I’m fond of surviving, so yes.”

  The tips of her fingers danced over his knuckles, and he froze, even as his skin heated. “These should heal easily. The wounds are superficial. A bit of lotion to soothe and in a day or so you’ll be fine.”

  “What about my face?” He didn’t mention his eyes.

  “Well…” she said slowly. “The good news is you still have a face.”

  “What’s the bad?”

  “There’s still some grit in some of your wounds. If you want to heal properly, I’ll need to clean it out.”

  “Do it.” He braced himself.

  “You’re too tall. I need you to sit. There’s a rock behind you, about two paces,” she offered.

  Gunner shuffled his hands out and hit the stone easily enough. He planted his ass on it, hands on his knees, able to move quickly if needed.

  “This will probably hurt,” she warned.

  “Always does,” he grumbled. “At least you have a nicer voice than Oliander.”

  “Who is Oliander?”

  “The guy who usually patches me up.”

  “Do you require patching often?”

  “Have you already forgotten the part where I said I had to fight to survive?”

  “Doesn’t sound like this Haven is a great place,” she remarked.

  He fought not to not flinch when a wet cloth stroked over his raw skin. “Haven is the best thing to ever happen to me.” Once his parents died. “The only thing that would make it better would be to find a place we could call our own that the Enclave isn’t trying to destroy.”

  “I never understood why they cared.”

  “Because the freedom we represent is a danger to their tight-fisted rule.”

  “I never thought of it that way.” The cloth lightly brushed his eyes. “We are taught that you are dangerous, carriers of horrid disease, and always sowing violence.”

  “And yet the truth is nothing close.”

  “So you claim.”

  She scrubbed harder in some spots, but he bore it. In the Was
teland you learned to never neglect any open wound. Infections could be deadly.

  “I am curious as to how a citizen got caught in a wind storm. I didn’t think you ever went outside the dome.” The Enclave population was taught from birth that the very air outside the dome was toxic because of the dust particles in it.

  “It was my first time. Give me your hands,” she snapped.

  He held them out, and she scrubbed in between the fingers and along the nails.

  “I’m impressed by your attention to detail.”

  “I’ve had grit heal under the skin. Removing it isn’t pleasant.”

  “Thank you.” He said it softly and could have sworn the fingers touching his hand warmed. Did she blush to the tips of her extremities?

  “Just keeping up my end of the bargain.” She released him abruptly, and he heard the rustle as she stepped back. “I think we’re done here. I’ll grab a bucket of water, just in case, and then we’ll head back to the house.”

  Without being bidden, he stood. He already knew he’d top her by at least a hand, maybe more. He couldn’t have said her age though. Her voice sounded young, but her words were that of someone mature.

  “Would you like me to carry it?”

  “If you insist.”

  It took only a moment before she nudged his hand, passing over her burden. The bucket handle was made of a strange braided material, the weight more than he would have expected.

  His free hand went to her waist, and this time she didn’t tense as badly. He felt much more alert now. The throbbing in his eyes was uncomfortable, but the water had some restorative properties, because he felt ten times better already.

  “You don’t have running water to the house?” he remarked.

  “No. But it’s not far from my home, and before you ask, I didn’t build it. I found it abandoned, most of the rooms caved in. What remains makes a great shelter.”

  “Someone used to live here.” He hummed aloud. “That’s promising.”

  “I feel like I should mention I did find skeletons in one of the rooms.”

  “Could be they died of old age.”

  “Your optimism is astonishing.”

  He grinned at her sarcasm. “You appear to have a doom-and-gloom view of life. I think it’s too short, so I prefer to think happy thoughts.”