“Good God! What have you been feeding your Tarsi? They look like you could lick a whole battalion of Mendraga overseers! We thought we’d never get them loaded up.” Saul clanged a palmed hand against the side of his truck, which appeared to Letho to be some sort of personnel carrier, or possibly even cargo transport.
“My Tarsi? Where are they?” Letho asked.
“I’m sorry, I do not mean to imply that they are under your ownership—just a poorly chosen figure of speech, I reckon,” Saul said. The way Saul said figure, it rhymed with trigger.
This guy sounds just like Zedock.
“We loaded them up in the back of my truck right here. They’re fine. Just resting. Looks like you guys had a whole herd of muties roll out the welcome mat for you, and I know from experience that that ain’t no way to start off on your home planet, so we’re going to give you folks a do-over. We’re going to take you back to our compound and get you cleaned up and debriefed. Boss man’s going to have lots of questions for you, if you really are Letho Ferron, and if these are the fabled Tarsi who helped him save the Centennial Fulcrum from Alastor and his merry band of bloodsucking dirtbags.”
Letho’s smile faded as his mind flooded with images that he no longer wished to carry, but which he knew would burden him for the rest of his life.
“It didn’t go down exactly like that, but I suppose these stories have a way of getting turned around and twisted over time,” Letho said in a low voice. “Listen, you know my name, and you seem to know a lot about me, which is in and of itself a little disconcerting. Maybe you can tell me your name?”
“Of course. My name is Saul Wartimer.”
Saul’s last name hit Letho like a well-swung two-by-four to the head. His jaw dropped, and he grasped for the right words to say. He decided to keep it simple:
“Wartimer? Zedock! Is he alive?”
“Yep. He’s waiting for us back at the compound, where there’ll be more time to sort everything out. But right now I recommend we hit the road. Those flash-bombs are real good at scrambling the puddin’ heads’ brains, but they usually get their wiring sorted out and come back with headaches and pissed-off attitudes within about thirty minutes or so. Tell you what, Letho, why don’t you hop on board my vehicle and take a ride with me? We got some things to talk about on the way over.”
“That sounds good. But I tell you, Saul, I’d feel a little better if you handed my Black Bear back over to me. I kinda feel naked without it. I’m sure you understand, as you seem to have its sister in your holster.”
Saul smiled, but the expression of warmth ended just there at his lips. His eyes were cold and still, fixed on Letho with steely intensity. Then the scrutiny seemed to fade and was replaced by joviality.
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m going to hold on to this bad boy for just a little bit longer. But I’d be glad to give you your sword back. Now that’s a piece of hardware. Where’d you get it?”
“Like you said, Saul, there will be time for telling those stories—in safer, and hopefully warmer, quarters. If you don’t mind, I’m a bit hungry and I feel like I could sleep for at least thirty-two days straight. And I’m sure that my people feel the same. What do you say we hit the road?”
“That sounds like a good idea. Folks, follow me, and we’ll take ’em to the best darn refuge the Hastrom City wastes have to offer.”
Saul motioned for Letho to follow. The man that had initially found Letho tossed Saladin back to its owner, and Letho caught it with his good hand. He slung the sheath over his back in its customary position.
Letho watched Saul holster his Black Bear in an empty pouch on his belt. Saul noticed that Letho was watching him and offered Letho another smile. For just a moment, Letho saw something darker lurking in that smile, and a momentary sense of dread spread over him.
****
As Saul’s truck roared through the night, Letho tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He watched in amazement as Saul deftly turned the steering wheel to and fro, weaving the massive truck through clusters of long-abandoned, rusted-out autos and around massive craters and potholes that marred the surface of dark, neglected highways. Overhead, listing metal frames held highway signs blasted through with buckshot and worn down by gritty, sand-impregnated winds, and here and there Letho saw light poles that had long grown dim. They stood over him almost as if in introspection, peering at this newcomer with empty eyes. He would have welcomed their light on this journey into the unknown.
Yet all was not dark. In the distance, just where the horizon met the sky, a sea of light loomed like the half-lidded eye of a dragon. The air above it was fiery orange, peppered with wisps of black cloud. It was beautiful, even as it imposed its presence upon a landscape of dusty hills. Letho knew that what man had wrought here had sucked every last drop of essence from the land, but one couldn’t deny its marvel. He wanted to go there, wanted to call it home.
Then his thoughts turned to Abraxas, to Alastor, and his mood soured. He pounded his fist against the dashboard and winced at the dent he left.
“Uh, sorry man. Let me see if I can smooth that out for you,” Letho said, attempting to press out the divot in the metal surface of the dash with his bare fingers.
“Don’t worry about it. A ball peen hammer will take that right out,” Saul offered. But before he could even finish the sentence, Letho’s had managed to pop out the dent using a maneuver similar to popping a pimple.
“Well, that’s…something. I guess the legends are true, huh? Pop told me a lot about you, you know. Told me how you faced down Alastor himself. Then died, and returned to tell the tale.” Saul shook his head and smiled in disbelief.
“Well, yeah, I guess it sounds really amazing when you put it that way. Some might consider it to be a very poor decision from a tactical standpoint. I mean, if I had remembered to grab an assault rifle on my way out the door, things might have been a lot different. We might be on our way to Hastrom City to have a beer.” Letho paused, afraid he had offended. “Though I’m sure your place is pretty nice.”
Saul nodded, and made a gesture that seemed to say no worries.
“And as far as that whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing… that’s not exactly proven. I mean, when they took me out of the town center I wasn’t breathing, but it’s not like anyone hooked me up to a heart monitor or anything.”
“How long were you out?” Saul asked.
“Not sure. A couple of days.”
“Sounds pretty badass to me.”
Letho shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it was, in a way.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the two. Letho fidgeted with his collar. Saul cleared his throat. After a beat or two, Saul nodded toward the glimmering corpse of Hastrom City, far off in the distance.
“So, what do you think about ol’ Hastrom City?”
“It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Letho, wide-eyed.
“Well get a good look, because this is about as close as we’re gonna get. We were the first to get to you because we were closer. But you better believe Abraxas’s men are gonna be all over that crash site sooner than you can say shine-ola.”
“So where are we going, exactly?”
“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”
Without warning, Saul killed the headlights, as did the truck behind them, plunging them into all but absolute darkness. Were it not for the distant light of the city, the crushing black all around them would have been unbearable. Panic seized Letho and he gripped the dashboard, leaving five fresh divots there.
“Hey, man, relax,” Saul said, pointing to the console. A rather primitive readout displayed the words “auto-navigation enabled” in a pixelated green font. The two sat in silence for a few miles while the truck braked, accelerated, and turned of its own accord. After a time Saul clapped Letho on the shoulder. Letho’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see that a smile was spread across Saul’s face. It seemed genuine enough, but Letho didn’t really care for the mischievous glimmer in Saul’s eye.