It tasted metallic.
Then, limping from injuries he didn’t yet realize he had, he made his slow way into the fields, away from the battleground, away from the cheering, away from his past, away from whatever it was that he’d attempted to do here.
He limped away from the Catamite.
It was still hurting when the dawn came.
Chapter 26
“So how did you do it? I was there and I saw how you actually did it, but how did you make it all come together like that? Tell me.”
The attack on the Slayer’s band had gone exactly as planned, with Raxx and Wentworth baiting the raiders into an ambush for Hope’s Constabulary. The only injury sustained had been Wentworth’s, the firing position he’d taken out the rear window of the truck had given him whiplash. The town doctor had prescribed ibuprofen and stretching exercises. Until then Wentworth would have to settle for using his right hand for both cigarette and beer; lifting his left arm sent pains down his back.
“Really it was a question of concentrating our forces.”
After sweeping the battle area and going over the mine site, the Constabulary had returned to the brown delivery van which had brought them there, and returned to Hope. They’d been in high spirits the whole way back — it was a rare opportunity, enacting retribution for their fallen brethren. As for Wentworth and Raxx, the excitement of surviving another combat situation had left them in a similar state. No tragedy this time. Short of the taillight, the sandbags and deflector had done their job.
While driving over the ashes of their napalmed highway both of them burst into hysterical laughter.
“Slayer’s strength wasn’t in numbers or skilclass="underline" it was in their secrecy, the way they were amorphous without a fixed position to pin down, and the fact that they had the support of the local Mennites, preventing you from acting openly.”
Upon returning to Hope Captain O’Neil had declared a general day of leave for all of the Constabulary, effective immediately. The city gates were manned by caravan guards. The constabulary was celebrating at Tracy’s Roadhouse.
“By discovering their base camp, and outing their collusion with Jenkins, we reversed the situation without their realizing it. Now they were in the same situation you’d been stuck in before, isolated and centralized against an enemy who was supported and dispersed — basically, it was the element of surprise.”
The beer had flown freely. Patricia had bought the first round, Wentworth the second. In this moment he felt brotherhood with Raxx, and even with the Constabulary. The night was filled with stories. “Did you see when I blew out his tires?…that fat one’s head popped like a watermelon…and then the vehicle flipped… you got him right in the eye… the explosion when the gas tank went up?” The good spirits were infectious, catching with the other patrons. Soon the series of tables they were sitting at were surrounded by other citizens and travellers, relieved that the threat had passed, as well as off-duty caravan guards telling their own stories.
“The other important thing — and this is all on Raxx — was figuring their critical flaw — Pride. Ironically enough, he says it’s the major prohibition of their superstition, and yet it’s what he used against Jenkins during that interrogation. It’s ironic, really. In the end you can blame all of this on the Mennites — they’re neurotic about sex and ego, and thanks to that Slayer turned his men’s aberrance into an ideology. That’s where their roots lay; sexual, violent terrorism, not combat, no matter how well disciplined they were. That’s how I knew their reaction to the planted explosive would be so immediate. They were a rockslide waiting to happen — Raxx figured out where to put the dynamite…”
The two girls his partner had been flirting with the other day were there at the bar and they both seemed impressed with his accomplishments. Vince and Maria had stopped by briefly, but left once Vince had congratulated them on their victory and Maria had fussed over Wentworth’s muscle strain. Soon after, with the younger members of the Constabulary engaging in their own form of youthful entertainment, Wentworth had found himself sharing a corner table with Captain O’Neil — with Patricia.
“You know,” she said, wiping foam from her lips after taking a sip from her pint glass, “I have to admit that I had my doubts about you at first.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Whatever. I’m sorry your commission got cut, but it was the only way I could convince the Mayor to let the Constabulary get involved, regardless of what I thought.”
“Hey, it’s no biggie.” It had only been a fifty percent cut so he and Raxx were still walking away happy. The excitement had quickly worn off for him though. Combat against disorganized opponents was nothing new for him, and it had been replaced with… not depression, maybe thoughtfulness? Camaraderie aside, he wasn’t flush with the same mirth as the men and women in uniform, enjoying their youth, or that Raxx felt, laughing and joking with Sherry and Michelle. “The thing that gets me is that the Children, most of them anyway, never would have turned out like that if not for Jenkins, and their society which threw them out. The Mennites manufactured their own trouble.”
“Well, they paid for it ten times over.”
“Maybe, but I doubt they’ve learned from it. It’s just… tragic… incompetence causes more harm than evil. In this case incompetence and ignorance is what created the evil in the first place.” He looked down at the ashtray, a sad frustration written across his face.
“Wentworth — I’ve never liked the Mennites. They’re good enough people individually, but that superstition of theirs makes them impossible to deal with.” She paused to steal Wentworth’s cigarette, and take a draw from it. “Hey,” she said, sliding around closer to him and taking his chin in her hand, making him face her. Her fingers were rough. “You just saved two communities from predation, and took out some bad guys, wherever they came from. Today you’re the hero, Wentworth, and you should be smiling.”
“Call me Iain.”
She leaned forward and placed her lips on his.
At first it was gentle and friendly. But she didn’t disengage. Their lips slid against each other, wet from the beer, and a sudden hunger enveloped both of them. Wentworth let go of his glass and placed his hand on the back of her neck pulling her towards him. Their mouths opened and their tongues met. After a long moment they finally pulled apart, both panting, their faces flushed.
“Do you want to get out of here?” asked Wentworth.
“My place is down in the town square.”
They put down money for the tab, and made their way out of the bar. After exiting Patricia pushed him against the wall of the Roadhouse. “I haven’t done this since I was twenty.” She pressed her body against him and they kissed again, briefly. Then they made the five minute walk back to her apartment holding hands.
Patricia lived in a walk-up above a cobbler. They kissed while she unlocked the front door, then she led him up the stairs, his good hand on her hips. She opened up her apartment’s door. It entered into the suite’s kitchen, and they started kissing again. A fierce hunger drove them, something awakened in both their chests, and their kisses became violent. Wentworth shed his jacket and boots, while she removed her utility belt, walking backwards towards the bedroom, kissing him the entire time.
Moonlight streamed in from the window, lighting up everything in shades of blue and silver as Wentworth undid the buttons of her uniform and unhooked her bra. She unbuckled his belt and removed his pants. They fell to the bed still half-clothed, grinding against each other, running their hands up and down each other’s bodies.