Bane moved faster than the Judge thought possible, lunging forward to seize him by the head. He screamed as Bane's thumbs jabbed into his eyes, blinding him. He flailed helplessly, eyes on fire, head flaring in agony as Bane's hands squeezed like a metal vice. He heard the sickening sound of his own skull fracturing before he knew no more.
The Baron's chest heaved as she took gasping swallows of moist air. Sweat slicked her face and soaked her clothes. The room was roasting hot and smelled of blood and death. The shootout ended with the Judge's grisly demise, the mercenaries losing the will to fight when their sponsor lay on the floor with his entire head resembling a fistful of rotten fruit. People crawled across the floor, dragging ruined limbs in an animalistic urge to escape. Wiley finished them off, one booming shot at a time. His grin widened with every kill, the look of a man enjoying his work.
She collapsed in a wooden chair, gesturing with her gun. "Anyone who worked for the Judge has two options: work for me or get out of Town right now." She glanced around the room expectantly. No one moved. She picked up an unbroken bottle of whiskey and poured it down her throat, taking several swallows. Bane plodded over and stood behind her like an obedient golem.
Wiping her mouth, she looked at her new crew. "Those who work for me will be deputized by the Marshal. You will wear a blue armband at all times when on duty. You will earn a decent wage, be awarded your pick of restored houses, and gain additional bonuses in the future. Deserters will be hung or shot, or both. Your work starts as soon as the megastorm is over. My first ordinance will be the surrender of firearms in this Town. Aside from law enforcement, all guns will be checked in upon entering and checked out when leaving. Anyone who refuses to surrender their weapon is to be shot. Some of you will be rounding up other undesirables, starting with those worthless religious zealots. They won't be a problem. Just gather them up and ship them off with a warning to never come back. Anyone loyal to the Judge will be rounded up and shot en masse. This is how we establish law and order in this Town. Any questions? Good. Get yourselves cleaned up and tend to your wounds. This storm won't last forever. When it ends, get ready to move out."
Turning around, she looked up at Bane. "Is Gunner dead? You watched him die?"
He nodded.
"Good. That's one less problem to worry about."
Chapter 11: Abomination of Desolation
Gunner drowned.
Choking on water, liquid fire searing his lungs, a storm raging around him, raindrops pelting, lightning sizzling, thunder hammering with sonic fists, pummeling him further into the dark, muddy river.
He clawed at his neck, tearing the sodden noose away, coughing, puking, neck on fire, throat torn by nettles, blood in his mouth. Pushing himself up with trembling arms, he blinked droplets from his eyelashes. The storm raged around the Town, clouds whirling, so dark and terrible that he tore his gaze away. Lightning forked, connecting sky to earth in blinding flashes and thunder so constant that the reverberations shattered windows and battered the buildings. Some of the structures were on fire from lightning rods busted from the onslaught, flames greedily feasting even while being doused by the deluge. Bodies floated in the water, poor folk unable to find shelter in time. A few stragglers ran through the mud, desperately searching for cover, beating on doors and windows sealed by the emergency lockdown. Their calls for help were unheard, overwhelmed by the sucking, booming, whirling sounds of the tempest. None of the unfortunates even saw Gunner lying in a white-capped, rushing stream that used to be a street. They couldn't see anything; eyes wide and blinded by paralyzing fear of the impossible phenomena around them. The winds shrieked like tortured spirits, blowing rain sideways in heavy gusts that never let up.
He glanced up, barely able to see the cage swinging in the blustering winds as if made of chicken wire. A tiny figure in a billowing cloak gripped the bars, doing something to the lock. The gate swung open and Pablo leaped out, falling beside Gunner in the stream. He lifted his face, gasping, white hair sopping and hanging across his face. He clapped Gunner on the back, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard over the raging storm.
"I thought you were dead, amigo. But this Mahinarah child jumped from the rooftop and cut you down when that cyborg monstrosity walked away. It appears you have an angel watching over you."
Gunner opened his mouth, but his throat was too raw to speak. He hacked and nodded, trying to push himself to his feet. Pablo assisted him, both men staggering on weak legs like a pair of newborn colts. Enya leaped nimbly from the cage and landed beside them with a splash. She looked around fearfully at the raging storm, gesturing for them to follow. She led them into one of the nearby abandoned buildings, too old and broken to be locked down. Water fell from the damaged ceiling, flooding the interior. They splashed through, pushing aside floating pieces of rotted wood. The water drained into a basement, where Enya descended. The building shuddered from the punishment of the squall, creaking and splintering as if about to fall apart.
A hole in the wall revealed a hidden tunnel, where they entered, waist-deep in flowing water. Yellow-eyed figures awaited, stretching out lanky limbs and taking hold of Gunner and Pablo, supporting them as they descended into a wet, slippery passageway of earth and rock, gloom and darkness. Gunner had no idea how long they traveled, slipping in and out of consciousness, eyes blind, ears filled with the hisses and chirping of the Mahinarah as they carried him along. He closed his eyes, floating away into the darkness.
He awoke in front of a crackling fire in a hollow of dark stone, stalagmites jutting from the rocky floor like jagged rows of sharp teeth. Heavy rain was visible from the mouth of the cave, shimmering like liquid crystals every time lightning flashed. He fingered the heavy wrap that encircled his throat, smelling strongly of herbal medicine.
The worst of the storm has passed, but the rain will be around for some time.
He turned at the sound of the voice, realizing the words weren't spoken by mouth but communicated into his mind. A diminutive woman sat on the other side of the fire, wrapped in a multicolored shawl, beads roped around her neck and wrists. Her sagacious face was more refined than the rest of the Mahinarah, her hair finer, silver threads hanging loose to her shoulders. Her gray skin was nearly free of the mottled patches that marked her kind, lightly freckled instead. Her amber-colored eyes gazed at him with serene perception, as though she knew him through and through. He was all too aware that she did. She was the Keeper, possessor of the hive mind of the tribe.
He pushed himself to a sitting position, bowing his head in respect.
My name is Bodhi. We have tended to your wounds. Your voice will return in time. Your friend is cared for. Do you remember, Agni Chaya?
His mind flooded at the mention of his name. Fire Shadow. He saw the name as she did, the flame that chased the shadow. The fire, the man with crimson eyes. The dead that lay at his feet. Gunner sobbing, clutching a body to his chest. Picking up his Reavers, chasing after the shadow. Always chasing.
He nodded, tears trickling down his face.
She waved a bony hand. Sleep, Agni Chaya. Dream of your loved ones and be content.
He slept. For the first time in ages, the nightmares stayed away.
When he awoke the next morning, he walked the camp with Bodhi beside him, moving with elderly grace. Children trailed in their wake, pointing and staring with widened eyes, scampering away every time he turned around.
The Mahinarah village was far more advanced than any he'd ever seen, a series of wooden lodges and stacked stone huts with domed roofs, connected by wooden bridges and heavy beams that reinforced the structures. A wall of wood ash cement fortified the encampment from intruders. A series of caves also served as shelter and led to the tunnels that allowed them to travel through the mesa and into the Town undetected. They also housed the smithery, where several of the Mahinarah worked the forges and hammered out tools, weapons, and machine parts. Conveyors rattled, moving metal and stone. Cogs and gears turned, transferring water from hidden streams in the caves to the encampment. Gunner stared at an automaton, roughly humanoid in shape, made from rusted metal parts but functional, assisting the workers at the forge. A rounded fusion orb pulsed from the housing in its chest.