The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Two

"Hey," said Adam.

Hugo raised his rifle and swung it towards the stranger. He didn't have a clear shot but he could fire off a warning round.

"You need to get out of here," continued Adam. "No business here for you."

The girl heard the snarl in his voice and shivered. Adam's eyes had turned ice cold and she watched him slowly draw his sword. Her single eye pierced the darkness. The bearded man had looked derelict and crumpled a moment earlier but now, as he eased from the patchy gloom, he seemed to unfold into a much taller man than she had assumed. He wore a narrow brimmed hat, his hair long and unkempt, streaked with grey. His beard was thick and ragged, his skin leathery. A long battered coat covered his rumpled clothes. A rifle was across his back, an ammunition belt across his chest, a long barrelled revolver tucked into his belt.

She shrank further away and noticed that the three men had also taken several paces back.

Adam opened his mouth but never uttered another word. The bearded man's hand moved with incredible speed. His fingers curled around the revolver and there was a roar as the hammer powered a bullet along the barrel. Adam choked as blood erupted in his throat. He coughed, spluttered, his grip loosened on the sword. His face turned ashen, his knees buckled; he tried to speak, tried to cry for help, but he was falling, eyes wide, arms flailing.

Hugo was about to squeeze off a volley when he cried out in sudden agony. He toppled over, a crossbow bolt embedded in the back of his skull. The one eyed girl screamed and scurried into the corner of the room as she saw a second man appear, this time from behind the men who had chased her. Only Rafa remained and he hurled his weighted net but it was a useless attack and the bearded man swerved it easily. He stomped forward, swinging his meaty clenched fists, ready to unleash a barrage of punches, but the bearded man calmly fired once and drilled a bullet into his heart.

The one-eyed girl coughed from the dust. She was angry for allowing herself to have been trapped in such a dead end building. She lifted her eyes towards the second man, the one with the crossbow. He was much younger than the bearded man. His skin was dusky, hair shorter, and he had no beard. His clothing was filmed with dirt from scavenging in the city but these men were no ordinary scavengers. She had realised that very quickly. These were two very different men and as her heart beat faster confusion trickled into her thoughts; it was impossible to separate fear and relief, and maybe something else. It was then she realised they were paying no attention to her and seemed more intent on ransacking the bodies of the three men they had quickly slain. Both men worked in silence as they pocketed wrapped food bars, ammunition, weapons and personal items.

"I'm Tomas," called the younger man, strapping his crossbow to his back. "You hungry?"

Not waiting for an answer, he tossed one of the bars in her direction.

"All the way from the best place in the world."

Her stomach rumbled but she bit her lip and left it in the dirt.

"Your loss," he shrugged. "Anything else?"

The question was for his bearded partner who was pulling a battered leather wallet from Adam's inside coat pocket. Gingerly, he opened it and his lined forehead creased deep at the papers inside. Wordlessly, he handed them to Tomas, shaking his head slowly as he did so. Tomas gripped them tightly, the thin paper rippling between his fingers. His eyes scanned the words and his lips moved as he tried to sound them out. A look of concern filled his eyes and he screwed the papers into a ball.

"This can't be right," he said, looking at the dead bodies. "Doesn't make any sense. Look at them. I mean, look at them."

The bearded man stared in silence.