Page 4 of Dustwalker
What I wouldn’t give to fully submerge myself in a giantbucket...
Inhaling deeply, Lara opened her eyes and lowered her hands.
She walked across the small room, unfolded the sash at her waist, and removed the porcelain shard and her beat-up metal lighter. The latter was one of her most valuable items, one she refused to trade. Fuel wasn’t easy to come by, but having easy access to fire had saved Lara and Tabitha more than once during the frigid winters.
Lighter in hand, she moved to her lantern. After a few attempts, the lighter sparked to flame, and she lit the wick, driving back the shadows that had been thickening within the shack with its gentle orange glow. The simple lantern, consisting of a small glass container with some oil and a wick through the lid, was one of her only luxuries. She probably used it too often, but it burned slowly and kept her from being alone in the darkness.
Returning the lighter to its place, she studied the porcelain shard again, turning it over in her hand. She traced the design with her fingertip, marveling at the way the looping lines came together to create something so beautiful. What purpose did it serve? Like so many of the remnants of the old world she’d found, the decoration had no practical use, couldn’t have aided in the item’s function.
Yet for some reason, such items spoke to her. She knew they were frivolous, a waste of time and energy to collect. But Lara couldn’t resist.
She placed the shard on the uppermost shelf of her little case, amidst the other pointless trinkets she’d gathered over the years—all items that weren’t worth anyone’s time to steal. They were pleasing to her eye, and that was enough.
Turning away from her treasures, she looked upon the rest of her home. There was the pathetic pallet upon which she slept, and the wooden crate beside it containing her few articles of clothing. Hunger reintroduced itself, gnawing at her gut, but there was no food to be found here.
Even the hollowness of her stomach wasn’t enough to distract Lara from the true emptiness inside her.
She was alone.
Tabitha was her only friend, her only family. Her big sister, her mother, her best friend. Tabitha had guided Lara, taught her, comforted her. And now…
Now, there was no one.
She had nothing.
With a cry of frustration, she sat down on the sturdy crate and yanked off her worn boots. Rising, she lifted the crate, stuffed her boots beneath it, and slammed it back down. For a long while, she sat hunched over, breathing heavily as she picked at the wooden planks with her fingernails. Her body shook with the effort of keeping her tears at bay. Crying couldn’t help anything. It certainly wouldn’t earn her any food.
From outside, the soft sounds of the chime rose above the constant drone of the wind. Lara’s muscles eased as the music chased away her sorrow and frustration. Anger wouldn’t help any more than tears.
She closed her eyes and listened to the music, conjuring a melody in her mind. Her body swayed with the notes. She couldn’t ease her hunger, but she could free her thoughts for a little while.
Lara hummed, the sound filling her chest and lifting her heart. Standing, she raised her arms, slid her fingers into her hair, and swayed her hips in time with the beat in her head, letting the music take her away. Letting herself forget.
She stepped forward blindly, knowing in her heart exactly where everything lay inside the shack. The cloth of her skirt brushed her legs, twisting and flaring with her movements. Night air swept in through the doorway, caressing her flushed cheeks in a brisk, fleeting kiss.
Lara danced, not once opening her eyes for fear that doing so would tear her from her dreams and drag back into a world of hunger, depravity, and dust.
CHAPTER TWO
Ronin crouched, pressing his back to the overturned bus. Its shadow stretched long in the evening sun. The dirt that had accumulated around and inside it would stop the bullets fired by the two reavers, but it was only a matter of time before they advanced and flanked around his cover.
“Your salvage, dustwalker!” one of the reavers called, his voice underrun with a digital crackle. “It’s ours whether we end you or not!”
At least one robot, then. Yet even if both reavers were bots, their first shots had missed, which meant they weren’t operating at peak performance. Ronin wasn’t either after so many years in the Dust, but his optics were still fully functional.
The reavers only had three main avenues of approach if they chose to press the attack—around either side of the bus, or over the top. Ronin’s processors ran simulations on all three. There were countless potential variations, despite the limited paths, and all were likely to result in him taking damage.
Wind swept over the wasteland, rustling the tufts of brown grass on the dunes and spattering Ronin with grit. Adjusting his audio receptors, he picked out the quiet crunch of dirt beneath the reavers’ boots as they approached. He estimated their positions based on the sound.
Diverting additional power into his actuators, he leapt atop the bus. The old, rusty metal bent and flaked beneath him, but it held his weightas he aimed at his first target. The reaver was only seven meters away, well within range for the armor-piercing rounds to do their work. Ronin’s first burst of gunfire caught the reaver square in the chest and punched through the casing beneath his synthetic skin. Limbs spasming, the reaver fell, his weapon discharging into the sky.
In the hundred milliseconds it took to eliminate the first reaver, the other fired.
Bullets struck Ronin’s abdomen as he pivoted. He shook with the impact, but he kept his arms steady as he squeezed the trigger of his rifle.
The second reaver’s gun bucked wildly as Ronin’s shots pierced the bot’s casing and hit its power cell. Licks of blue fire erupted from the holes for a fraction of an instant. With smoke curling out of its body, the reaver’s arms and torso went limp, its legs locking it in an upright position.
Ronin held his weapon at the ready and approached the first bot. It twitched on the ground, kicking up dust. Motor functions compromised; it had likely sustained damage to its CPU. Standing over it, he fired two more shots into its back. Its power cell flared in overload.
