Liberation (Remnants of Men)

Chapter 18: Third Law Of An Outlaw

     Old Max always said, to survive the wasteland, all brawn and no wit can make Jack a dead man. Unfortunately, as the terms to Troy’s freedom were set before him, Runner needed little of brawn or wit but more of dexterity. He had four of each weapon. If he missed a single target, the Rat bikes would stretch Troy until he is torn from each limb.

What an awful way to die.

He gazed at the weapon. Arrows are quick, but he wasn’t an excellent marksman to cut through a target as thick as Troy’s ropes. He was good with knives, but preferred them for close encounters. The axes were perfect. They looked strong enough to cut a thick rope and he always had one during his looting days in the Wasteland.

Runner stretched his hand forward and grabbed the first axe. He flexed his arm to relax his joints, you can do this Runner. You were the damn dart throwing champion of Mekkel’s bar, you can do this, he thought to himself.

“Whoop! This will be like knife in butter,” he tried to suppress his fear.

Pope Longjaw glanced at him, he raised his thumb in the air, “kick it, boys.”

The men kicked the engine of their Rat bikes. Two at the front moved theirs to go forward until it stretched Troy’s arms to its limit and the other two at the back stretched his legs. Poor Troy! His cries were loud enough to reach the heavens and make rocks crack.

It filled Runner with uneasiness, making him doubt his throw. Nonetheless, Runner took position paces away from Troy. His hands trembled and grew loose with sweat.  He pushed a leg forward and with one true swing, released the axe. It swirled through the air, making the distance and struck right at the rope, breaking it in two.

“Bravo!” Pope Longjaw screamed and his men exchanged subtle nods of approval amongst themselves.

Runner put his hands over his face in relief. Mostly, he was happy to have reduced Troy’s pain, but it wasn’t over yet. He grabbed the second axe, moved to position and released. The axe cut the rope holding Troy’s left arm and his body slammed on the floor.

Troy’s arms were now free. But both legs were still tied to two Rat Bikes.

The Priest clapped as he came towards Runner, “you are one of a kind, but now the rules have changed. You now have five minutes to free his legs or the bikers will take him on a ride, dragging him throughout the wasteland.”

Runner turned around hurriedly and grabbed the third axe. He moved himself to position. His heart raced as he glanced at his wristwatch. Slowly, he steadied his breath but it wasn’t working. Beads of perspiration formed on his face. He was not calm and the clock was ticking.

He threw his arm forward and released the axe to curl in the air. It went past its mark, missing the rope by an inch and buried its head in the soil.

“Yeesh! That’s not good,” Pope Longjaw stared at Runner.

There was only one axe left with two ropes to cut. Runner closed his eyes in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Runner. But you got to admit this is like a movie with a good opening and bad ending,” the Priest put a hand on Runner’s shoulder, “your remaining two minutes will serve nothing now, drag him boys,” he shouted.

“Wait! I can still do this,” Runner held tight to the Priest’s fabric.

“I’m sorry, it is not possible anymore and I must keep my word.”

The men kicked their engines and moved the bikes. Troy caught a half buried pillar and held it tight. His legs were stretched to maximum length and he screamed, “Runner!”