The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Nine

Tomas eased his foot against the brake pedal. The tyres squealed and the jeep shuddered to a halt.

"What do you think?"

Stone took his binoculars from his coat pocket. He steadied them at the scattering of buildings several miles ahead, sweeping his gaze over a single floor house with boarded up windows and a large barn at the back, wooden frame rotting, corrugated iron roof rusting. The final building featured a long row of boarded up windows with a metal panel door hanging open. Several abandoned cars were out front and dotted on the surrounding threadbare brown grass he spotted shredded tires, empty plastic crates, a burnt mattress, a pile of broken bicycles, several iron drums and a wheelbarrow lying on its side, its single wheel missing.

"Waste of black energy to circle it," said Tomas, tapping the dashboard. "We could camp for the night."

Stone nodded sourly.

"I'll signal," he said.

Feeling the blow of cold air on his face, he lowered his goggles across his eyes, pocketed the binoculars and unstrapped his rifle from his back. He jumped down from the jeep and disappeared into the brush, keeping low, moving fast. Tomas turned off the engine and looked around. He stretched his arms and yawned. It was dark and the thin breeze rippled the surrounding landscape. He looked for Stone but could no longer see him.

"You okay?" he asked Emil.

She nodded but wouldn't look at him.

"You're quiet," he said, jumping down from the vehicle. He reached for his crossbow. "What is it?"

Wrapped in a heavy blanket, dirty hair falling around her pale face, the patch over her right eye grubby, she shook her head.

"Is this what it's like for you and Stone?" she said, her voice quiet, dry. "Killing everyday to survive?"

"You didn't have a problem when killing saved you," he said, swinging the crossbow onto his shoulder. "You can get out and walk away anytime you want. You got no ties to us."

He turned his back on her, the words stinging him.

"It's not the killing," she said, her voice tiny. "I mean, I understand it, I really do. Does it turn you sick inside?"

Tomas could hear the sadness in her voice. He felt his breath shorten and his heartbeat increase. What was this he was feeling? He was confused and he understood how confusion could cost him his life. He rubbed his tired eyes, ran a hand through his short hair and glanced at her. She was staring along the dark road. She looked miserable. There was no signal from Stone. Tomas imagined he had only reached the cluster of buildings and would now search them room by room. He circled the jeep back to Emil.

"I want you stay with us," he said. "I don't want you to go off on your own. We can keep you safe. You must know what it's like out here. Stay with us. I like, I like you being around."

She looked at him.

"You know what you're worth to them all," he said.

"I just don't like it."

"You don't have to like it."

"You and Stone seem to."

He shook his head.

"Especially Stone."

"You don't know anything about him."

"Then tell me about him. Tell me about you. Tell me about the both of you."

There was no one around. Stone strapped his rifle across his back and drew his revolver and torch. He switched it on and shone the beam across the back door of the house. A wooden board had been nailed across the top half of the door, covering where a window had once been. He inspected the ground and saw no trap or wire or anything set to signal he was about to enter. The buildings creaked in the wind and the door matched the sound as he eased it open. Darkness and the stench of a rotting body caused him to grimace and recoil.