“Another asshole like King, then?”

  “Something like that.”

  “May he rot in hell. And may whoever crosses you join him.”

  Hayden smiled, raising his glass to take another sip of the whisky. He wasn’t worried it would impair him. He would need to chug the bottle for his enhanced healing factor to fall sufficiently behind on cleaning out the poison. “I’ll drink to that.”

  The door to the RV swung open. One of the townsfolk poked his head in. “Sheriff, your buddies are here.”

  “Can you show them in, please?”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff.”

  “Thank you kindly.”

  The door closed, swinging open again a moment later. Thomas stepped into the RV, with Vazquez right behind him. Thomas looked tired, sweaty and winded. Vazquez seemed ready for more. It was a drastic contrast made possible by their different origins as a natural human versus a clone.

  “Sheriff, I think we should fly next time,” Thomas said, bending over to brace his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Glad to see...you...still have friends...here.”

  “Pozz. Zelda, this is Thomas and Maya. You two, this is Zelda and her nephew Paul.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Thomas said, straightening to shake their hands.

  Vazquez frowned. “How long are we going to hang around here, Sheriff?”

  “Not long. Zelda’s niece Ginny made up a nice stew. Fairy and I already had some, it’s better than anything else you’ll find around these parts. You two must be hungry.”

  “I’m not,” Vazquez said.

  “I’ll take some,” Thomas said, eyes getting big at the idea.

  Zelda reached under the table, pulling out the pail of stew. She turned and opened a drawer to retrieve a bowl and spoon, and served some of the stew into it, handing it off to Thomas.

  “Do you really need to eat right now?” Vazquez asked impatiently.

  “Something wrong, Maya?” Hayden asked.

  “You know there is, Sheriff. And we’re wasting time here.”

  “Everyone has to eat sometime,” Hayden said. “We’ll make it up heading across to Haven.”

  “How?”

  Hayden smiled. “You haven’t seen Paul’s work yet. Trust me, Maya. If you’re hungry, have a bowl.”

  She stared at him, face tight. Then she nodded, expression softening. “Fine. It does smell good, and nobody at the lab knew how to cook for shit.”

  “Lab?” Zelda asked.

  “Long story,” Hayden replied.

  “You have a lot of those, don’t you, Sheriff.”

  “Sure do.”

  “You’ll have to come back and visit again. Spend a few weeks so you can tell them all.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Zelda repeated the process with the stew, passing Vazquez a bowl and spoon. She dug into it hungrily, moaning with enjoyment as she slurped it down. “It tastes even better than it smells,” she admitted.

  “I can show you our mods whenever you’re ready, Sheriff,” Paul said. “I just finished one up last week I think you’ll like. It took me six months to scavenge a working heat pump for it.”

  “You didn’t have one local?” Hayden asked.

  “Nope. Had to comb the highway between here and Haven until I found a match.”

  “He brought home near fifty others before he got one he could make fit,” Zelda said.

  “I don’t want to borrow your newest from you,” Hayden said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to return it in one piece.”

  “I appreciate that, Sheriff,” Paul replied. “But whatever you need, you’re welcome to have. This whole town owes you more than we could ever repay, and I owe you more than that.”

  Hayden smiled and tipped his hat, embarrassed by the compliment.

  Thomas finished his stew, placing the bowl on the table. “Maya’s right. Delicious. Sheriff, we should get moving.”

  “Pozz,” Hayden agreed, moving to his feet. “Zelda, I appreciate the hospitality toward me and mine. You’ve always been a gracious host.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, Sheriff,” Zelda replied. “Just make sure you don’t wait another four years to stop back again.”

  Hayden smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

  He was about to head for the RV’s exit when a sharp beep sounded from somewhere on Zelda’s hip. She grabbed a small device there, her expression souring. “Raiders incoming.”

  The door to the RV opened and a few other residents started to enter, rifles in hand as they worked quickly to set up the same trap Hayden had walked into.

  “Thomas, Maya, Fairy—you three wait here,” Hayden said, slipping past the incoming townsfolk. “Zelda, hold your fire until I signal you.”

  “Sheriff Duke, where are you going?” Fairy asked.

  Hayden looked back at her and the others. “To do my job.”

  He stepped out of the RV, checking his revolvers as he crossed to the center of the settlement. He could hear the engines now, an increasing rumble to his right, coming up from Lavega. The engines of the modboxes joined together in a cacophony of horsepower. Closing his eyes, Hayden could make out the distinct tones of four different machines.

  Carcity quickly fell silent and still, all of the residents who had been outside vanishing into the RV or the school bus or hiding inside the cracks and crevices within the maze of scrap metal and cars. Inside of a minute Hayden stood alone in the center of a ghost town.

  He pushed his duster back, clearing his revolvers as the engines of the modboxes grew from a rumble to a roar, the storm of dust from their tires visible just beyond the open front gate. Zelda had said they only closed the gate on him because they didn’t see him as a major threat. Normally, they left it open to allow the raiders back out again. They usually left after spending a few minutes shooting up junk, taking whatever food and supplies were readily available and raising a ruckus.

  Not this time.

  The first modbox appeared ahead of the dust—a smaller vehicle outfitted with an external cage and a spiked grille, with a secondary metal cage protecting the windshield. It was flanked by a pair of larger vehicles with big tires and elongated chassis, the original cabs replaced by metalwork and transplanted seating. Each of them had a raider standing tethered to a raised platform, rifle in hand. Hayden couldn’t get a good look at the tailing modbox, but he didn’t need to see it. He had seen this kind of bullshit before.

  The raiders whooped and hollered as they came single-file through the outer gate, driving up the main thoroughfare toward the center where Hayden stood. Once the area opened up, the flanking cars peeled off, the screaming continuing as the modboxes circled Hayden, ringing him in before coming to a stop.

  Hayden didn’t move his body. His hands shifted, dropping closer to his revolvers. His eyes shifted too, taking measure of the vehicles and their occupants around him. Four modboxes, four raiders each. Sixteen targets, twelve rounds.

  Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.

  One of the raiders pulled himself through the passenger side window frame of the lead modbox. Dressed in denim and leather, adorned with chains and what looked like old hood ornaments, his head was shaved, an abstract tattoo occupying most of his forehead. He wore a holster strapped across his hip, a revolver tucked into it.

  “What is this?” the man asked, looking at Hayden. “Did the people of Carcity suddenly develop a backbone?” He laughed. “Who are you supposed to be, the Sheriff?”

  “You’ve got to the count of three to clear out of here,” Hayden replied. “And never come back.”

  The raider laughed harder. “Or what? You going to kill us all, bro? All by your lonesome?”

  Hayden raised his head slightly as he smirked. “Pretty much. I’d rather not. Best for all of us if you’d follow my advice. One.”

  The raider shook his head, eyes passing to the modboxes surrounding Hayden. “Do you believe this grepper?” he said loudly enough for all his minions to hear before looking back at Hayden. “How about—”

  His sentence was cut off when the round from Hayden’s revolver smashed through the tattoo and into his brain, killing him instantly. Two more rounds broke the windshield of the modbox and killed the driver before the rest of the raiders could react.

  Hayden hadn’t counted to three, but there was no point. He knew by the leader’s posturing the group wasn’t going to listen to reason. Why let them shoot first?

  Hayden spread his guns wider, a round from each revolver hitting the two men on the raised platforms and knocking them limp in their tethers. He dove to the ground, losing his hat. Rolling, he came up facing the other direction. Four more bullets cut down the two raiders in the front two seats of the rear vehicle. Then he sprinted forward toward the modbox as the other raiders finally started firing back. Most of the poorly aimed shots from their revolvers and hunting rifles didn’t come close. A few rounds managed to strike his duster, easily deflected by the bulletproof material.

  Hayden neared the modbox, the two raiders in the back seat leaning their arms and faces out of open window frames to fire at him. He aimed his dual pistols, releasing a single round from each. The bullets pierced the skulls of the shooters, dropping them limp against the modbox. That left him with one gun empty and only one round chambered in the other. When he reached the car, Hayden leaped over the spiked grill and onto the hood, climbing over the roof and sliding down the back to cover. Once there, he quickly reloaded.

  The shooting stopped as the raiders waited for him to show himself again. He crouched low, coming around the left side of the modbox to target the raiders there. They jumped off the vehicle and charged him. He cut them down in rapid succession and then rolled forward, coming up on one knee behind the front of the modbox.

  The raiders on the other side remained behind the cover of their vehicles, shooting back at him. He could have kept the fight going and cut them down on his own. Eventually. But there was no reason to go it alone. Hayden raised his fist, signaling Zelda and the others.

  The windows of the RV dropped, but the raiders didn’t hear them clank open past the noise of their own gunfire. Nor did they see the guns that were suddenly trained on their backs. The door opened and Vazquez stepped out. She fired one shot in the air and then opened fire on them, taking them all by surprise when they turned around.

  Before the dust settled, she flashed Hayden a smirk and then the all clear sign. He rose to his full height and holstered his revolvers. He went over to where his hat had fallen off in the dirt and scooped it up. He dusted it off and checked for holes, glad to see it had remained unventilated. He seated it back on his head as the people of Carcity came out to take in the bloody aftermath of the gunfight.

  “Sheriff Duke,” Thomas said, shaking his head and grinning broadly. “Legendary. Absolutely, legendary.”

  “Thanks for not shooting them in the back,” Hayden said.

  “I figured you wouldn’t appreciate it,” Fairy said, almost blushing under his look of approval. “And Maya was ready to go out and kick their asses.”

  “I needed that,” Vazquez said, approaching Hayden with a satisfied smile on her face. Her eyes traced the four modboxes and the thirteen dead raiders around them. “Bastards deserved to die.”

  “I would have preferred to talk.”

  “They didn’t want to talk. There are savages, and then are assholes like this group. Less than human, if you ask me.”

  Hayden’s eyes narrowed, glaring harshly at Vazquez. “You don’t know what drove these outlaws here. Money? Fear? Desperation? Folks do what they need to do to survive, on both sides of the fight. You’re doing what you need to do so your kid survives. I don’t need a pilot anymore. Call any Earther a savage again and I’ll put you on your ass before you finish saying the word.”

  Vazquez stared angrily back at Hayden, her eyes meeting his. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t budge. He was getting tired of Custodians putting down Earthers, especially since they were the ones who had driven the raiders to head for Carcity, whether indirectly or not.

  They stared at one another for nearly half a minute before Vazquez finally looked away. “I hear you, Sheriff,” she said, storming off to where Thomas was checking out one of the big-tired modboxes with Paul.

  “It’s not her fault, Sheriff,” Fairy said once Vazquez was out of earshot. “She doesn’t know any better. That’s what they’re taught in the CSF. And you know, they treat clones like shit there too, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how it feels.”

  Hayden turned his attention to her. “How do you know that?”

  “She told me a little bit about Proxima while we were waiting for you at the Fort.”

  The statement left Hayden feeling embarrassed for getting so angry. He would talk to Vazquez again later, after they both had time to cool down. “Have you always been a peacemaker?” he asked Fairy.

  “I try to understand folks top to bottom instead of judging them,” she replied. “That’s all. It helped me stay alive when I was younger and on my own, before the end of the trife. Plenty of people took care of me and helped me out, even the types most folks wouldn’t think were kind.” She paused. “Then again, plenty of people took advantage too. It cuts both ways, Sheriff.”

  “Pozz,” Hayden agreed. “I appreciate your insight.”

  She smiled widely. “I’m happy to help.”

  Hayden nodded and then headed over to where Paul had his head under the open hood of the raiders’ smaller modboxes, looking at the engine. He turned at Hayden’s approach.

  “Sheriff Duke,” he said, grinning. “It looks like you saved us again.” He patted the side of the modbox. “You took out the bad guys. This salvage is rightfully yours.”

  “You can have all of it,” Hayden said. “In exchange for one of yours that’ll suit my needs.”

  “You already earned that,” Paul replied.

  “You can have the salvage anyway. I don’t need a fleet of road iron. What I need is something fast, reliable and long-range.”

  Paul smiled and nodded. “You’re in luck, Sheriff Duke. I think I have exactly what you’re talking about. Follow me.”

  28

  Marcus

  The side of Iagorth’s pod opened and Marcus stepped out, his eyes landing on Major Bauer. The Custodian was alone in the room with Marcus, sitting on the crate that had once held the Axon energy unit. He jumped to his feet, face registering his surprise at the sudden reappearance.

  “Marcus,” he said, eyes shifting to Marcus’ new left arm. “You...you’re still alive. And your arm...”

  Marcus’ eyes narrowed. Everything around him seemed so much brighter, richer and more detailed. It had been impossible to notice inside the pod, but his vision had improved. He could see every individual hair on Bauer’s stubbled chin, and he wondered if he could target a specific follicle and shoot a bullseye.

  He had a feeling he could.

  “What time is it?” he asked. “What day?”

  “What happened to you in there?” Bauer asked.

  “Answer my questions,” Marcus pressed. “Now!”

  Bauer froze. Marcus smelled something he had never inhaled before. A sweet and pungent odor he didn’t recognize.

  It is fear. I hunger.

  Marcus breathed in deeply. Iagorth called it fear. Bauer was right to fear him. “It’s delicious,” he said out loud.

  Yes. It is.

  “What’s delicious?” Bauer asked. The scent grew stronger when Marcus stepped aggressively toward the Major. “Uh…four o’clock. Afternoon. You were in there for two days.”

  Marcus stopped in his tracks. “Two days? Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Those were my orders. To remain here until you either came back out or we could be certain you weren’t coming back out.”

  “Where’s the Colonel?”

  “He left not long after the xaxkluth died. He hasn’t been back since.”

  The xaxkluth? Marcus turned around. The huge alien sat limp behind the pod, two of its tentacles draped over the rock. Its eyes were all open, glassy and empty.

  I required its energy to activate the energy unit. It is the reason the pod was brought here.

  “How did the Grand Custodian know you would need it?”

  “Need what?” Bauer asked.

  “I’m not talking to you,” Marcus replied.

  I don’t know. That is a curiosity we share.

  “Who are you talking to, then?”

  “Major, when I want you to speak, I’ll call on you,” Marcus said. “Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

  The smell of fear wafted from Bauer. “Y...yes, sir.”

  Sir. Marcus liked that. “Don’t you want that answer first?”

  No. First, we deal with Sheriff Duke. We will have time for all else, but the Sheriff is a danger we can’t afford to allow to roam free.

  “Are you—” Marcus cried out in pain, grabbing hold of his head, his knees almost dropping him to the floor as a stab of hellish pressure blasted through his brain.

  Do not question me. I can give you everything you need, but I can take it away just as easily if you cross me.

  “Marcus?” Bauer said, confused by the reaction.

  “It’s nothing, Major, ” Marcus said as the pain subsided. “I’m fine. Has there been any word about Sheriff Duke?”

  “The Sheriff? I don’t know. I haven’t left the loading dock since I came in with you. If there are any updates I haven’t received them.”

  “But the Colonel likely has, correct Major?”

  Bauer nodded. “I’m sure he has.”

  Marcus took another step toward Bauer, who shied back half a step.

  Marcus grinned. “I can taste your fear, Major,” Marcus said. “Why are you afraid of me? You didn’t fear me before I went into the pod. You laughed when the Colonel mocked me.”

  Bauer swallowed hard. “Sir, I...Your arm. And...your eyes.”