Page 139 of Dustwalker
The curtain rings scraped over the rod when Nancy returned and flicked them open. She pushed a chair with large wheels attached to it into the partition. “This should help you get around.”
“What’s that?” Lara asked.
“A wheelchair. You’re not going to make it very far on foot in your current state.”
Lara grunted, and the blast of pain from her ribs made her immediately regret it.
Nancy had forced her out of bed every day since she woke up. Every step, every breath, had been agony. Though Lara would be exhausted before even reaching the curtain, she took pride in pushing through despite the difficulty. Warlord had tried to kill her, yet here she was, back on her feet already, driven by sheer human stubbornness.
Even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.
She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about being carted around in this chair, but at least it would give her something more to look at than this room’s featureless white walls, curtains, and ceiling for a while. And she couldn’t deny her curiosity about this place.
Ronin drew the blanket down and offered Lara his hand. After a few careful breaths, she took it and slid her legs over the side of the bed. He placed his other hand on the small of her back, supporting her as she stood.
Slowly, she eased into the wheelchair, tucking her splinted arm against her middle.
Nancy brushed her fingers over Lara’s braid. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you back here later.”
Ronin pushed Lara out of the room, which he’d called the Infirmary, and followed the green line on the floor along a large, rounded concrete tunnel. The muffled voices of a crowd drifted down thecorridor from ahead. They passed several people, many of whom cast friendly smiles in Lara’s direction.
It was strange. Back in Cheyenne, direct eye contact was sometimes considered a threat, too often ending with a knife buried in someone’s gut. But these people just…smiled. They all looked healthy, if a bit pale, like they’d never missed a meal in their lives. Their clothing was clean and well-mended. Their skin wasn’t weather-damaged, and they didn’t have dirt under their fingernails.
This is what I was becoming after Ronin took me to his house.
The voices grew louder as Lara and Ronin emerged from the tunnel into a huge room. There were dozens of people all around, engaged in conversations and various activities, many of which were unfamiliar to her. Pictures flickered on screens here and there on the walls, and machinery thrummed, buzzed, and clanked.
Lara’s gaze shifted from face to face. “There are so many people.”
“Not all human,” Ronin said.
“There are bots here, too?”
“I’ve counted thirty-three, but I know there are more.”
She looked over the crowd, spotting a few skinless bots. If there were synths present, she couldn’t tell them apart from the humans. They all spoke with their hands as much as their mouths, all laughed together, all wore their emotions on their faces.
It was nothing like Cheyenne. These people were not divided.
They lived in harmony.
A line of six men in matching clothes marched out of a tunnel ahead, each carrying a rifle. More weaponry dangled from their belts—pistols and knives.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Soldiers.”
“Like the gearheads, only human?”
“Not all human,” he repeated with a chuckle, “and not like the gearheads. They’re here to protect the people who live here, not to hold them under the thumbs of their leaders.”
Lara’s eyes followed the soldiers until they disappeared in the crowd. “How many of them are there?”
“I don’t know. They trust me enough to let me walk around the common areas, but I haven’t been able to get an accurate impression of their real numbers or armament. They don’t flaunt it here.”
She frowned. Now that she recognized their clothing, she counted three more soldiers on the walkways overhead.
Ronin turned down another tunnel. As they moved along it, the air grew moist, carrying rich scents that took Lara a moment to identify—damp earth and vegetation. The smells only strengthened as Ronin wheeled her into another large room.
