Bane nodded, turning in the direction of the mesa and stomping off, unhindered by the heavy mud, stepping on top of the dead bodies in his path as if they were rotten logs.
Wiley grinned. "This is gonna be fun. I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces when he reaches the summit. It's gonna be a massacre."
"There you are." Pablo came upon Gunner as he sat under the awning of one of the brick huts, quietly observing the Mahinarah as they cleaned up after the storm, repairing rooftops and lodges, sweeping pathways, removing tree branches. Others took care of the freed prisoners, offering food, checking their wounds. There was a remarkable difference between the half-starved mine workers and their brethren, who looked hale and fit in comparison, dressed in clean leggings, shirts, and colorful shawls and blouses. Larger, muscular warriors with massive jaws, shaved heads, fierce eyes, and braided topknots walked the perimeter with rifles propped on their shoulders.
Enya splashed over with a bowl of soup and a sharp-smelling herbal tea in handmade wooden dishes. Gunner tried to refuse the food, pointing to his injured throat. She pressed the tea in his hands, motioning for him to drink.
"Good. Make better."
He sipped, wincing in pain. But after a few seconds, he looked up in surprise. His voice was low and raspy. "You're right. Feels a little better already."
She smiled.
Pablo dropped to a crouch beside Gunner, gazing at the surroundings through streams of water that drained from the roof like liquid prison bars. "I am surprised to see you receive such hospitality from the Mahinarah. Not many know of their gentle side. I would not think you to be one of them, considering your reputation."
Gunner sipped his tea, clearing his throat with a pained expression. "A well-deserved reputation. No one was better at killing them than I was. Back when I was in the Texas cavalry and only knew them as Ferals. Mean, vicious killers, infected creatures that preyed on human flesh." He shook his head. "I never questioned the notion. All I'd seen was the warriors, and they were fierce. It was considered an honorable thing to wipe them out wherever they were found."
Enya wrapped her hands around his arm, looking up with glassy yellow eyes, lost in the painful memories.
Gunner sighed. "What I didn't know was that the commanders knew the truth about the Mahinarah. They knew that killing the Keeper would turn the warriors berserk, minds untethered and blind with rage. In that state, they'd kill anything that moved. So the cavalry commanders were ordered to send assassins to sneak into the Mahinarah villages and murder the Keepers, allowing the fighters to run wild to justify the cavalry riding in and wiping them out. They wanted the land, you see. Fertile soil, fresh water. Good for raising crops and livestock."
Pablo shook his head. "An unsurprising revelation, but tragic all the same. The story never changes. Man lords it over man to his own injury."
"I lost brothers to their fighters. Bodies torn apart, gutted like animals. I hated them. I wanted to kill them all. So I made a name for myself as a Feral hunter. I took hundreds of scalps in battle after battle. It was never enough. One day my company was tracking a band of warriors near El Paso. They were a smart group — ambushed us in a canyon valley. Most of my men were killed. I managed to escape but didn't make it too far. I stumbled on a cougar near her den of kittens."
He lifted his fingers, tracing the scars on his face. "She lit into me hard and fast. Would've killed me if I hadn't fallen off the cliffside. I lay there on the rocks, broken and dying when the Mahinarah found me. They lifted me and carried me to their village, where I figured they'd cut me up and eat me. Instead, they took care of me. Tended to my wounds and nursed me back from the brink. And then I met their Keeper, who shared the memories of what we'd done to them."
A tear slid down his cheek. Enya mirrored his action, still linked to him in memory. A mewling sound came from her throat.
"I wanted to die all over again when I realized the truth of my sin. Of the murders I was guilty of. When I was healthy enough to travel, I went back to my post and confronted my commander, who admitted the truth. But he felt no remorse, threatening to court-martial me if I spoke a word about it to anyone. In my rage, I shot him right there. He crawled away and died in front of a room full of his men. I barely escaped, fleeing the territory with them behind me all the way. The Mahinarah kept me hidden, and I helped them fight back, showing them how to use the weapons that could even the odds. But in the end, all we could do was retreat. The numbers were too great, the weapons too deadly. We were scattered to the winds, running for our lives. I had to leave the tribe because I was more of a target than they were. But I went knowing that wherever I was, they were alive in me and me in them because we remember. They are my family now. The only family I have left."
"You earned their forgiveness," Pablo said. "Not an easy thing to do. But you have to forgive yourself as well, or you will never be able to move on."
Gunner shook his head. "Some things you can't move on from. Some things stay with you all the days of your life. They make a man who he is and all he'll ever be. Can't change who you are, Pablo. That would be living a lie."
"What is impossible with man is possible with God," Pablo said. "All you have to do is give yourself to Him, and He will give you power beyond what is normal."
Gunner said nothing, staring wistfully at the Mahinarah. “Look at them. More human than we’ll ever be.”
Pablo sighed. “The man that you asked me about. The one with crimson eyes. Does he have a name?”
Gunner stiffened. “His name is Victor.”
“He was there. In Town. Months ago.”
“I thought you never saw him.”
“I didn’t. As I said, I never laid eyes on him. But I heard about him. The townspeople talk. He’s the one that captured the Mahinarah for the mines. He came, did the job, then moved on. People were relieved. They were afraid of him. Even the Judge was careful with the man. They say there was something about him. Something…evil.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong. Did they say what direction he headed?”
“East. That’s all I know.”
Something boomed, echoing across the air. Pablo looked up; forehead creased. "That didn't sound like thunder."
Gunner leaped to his feet. "No. It was a gunshot."
He ran down the path, slipping on wet pebbles, moving toward the sound of booming gunfire, teeth gritted, eyes wild. At the edge of the mesa, a towering figure in tattered clothes and a wide-brimmed hat towered above the Mahinarah warriors, electric eyes glowing, firing shot after shot from his massive hand cannon. Behind him, an approaching storm darkened the horizon, flickering with hellish lightning. Thunder shook the ground, bodies fell to the sodden earth, massive cavities spewing blood from the deadly blasts. The air rang with shrill war cries and screams from the wounded. Bane moved slowly, taking his time to aim and fire while their rounds bounced harmlessly from his armored body.
Gunner snatched up a bolt action rifle from one of the fallen, firing a round at Bane's head. "Hey!" He worked the handle on the bolt, ejecting the cartridge and loading another round. "You came here for me. Well, come and get me." He fired again, scoring a direct hit in Bane's chest. The giant stumbled backward, righting himself quickly. The bandanna fell from his face, revealing a metallic snarl of clenched teeth. Lifting his cannon, he pulled the trigger.
Gunner had already moved, sliding across the mud as an explosive blast erupted where he'd been standing, spattering mud and water over him. He rolled to a stop, worked the bolt again, then aimed and fired. A click, then nothing. Cursing, he hurled the empty weapon away, scrambling to his feet as Bane aimed again.