Page 125 of Dustwalker

The wind rustled the surrounding scrub grass as Newton stopped. The gently rolling hills ahead were high enough to block Cheyenne from view, but Ronin somehow sensed the city’s nearness, and doubt slithered into his thoughts.

What if he’d miscalculated? Warlord had left them, battered and broken, to die in the Dust, and now Ronin was bringing Lara closer to that brutal despot’s stronghold?

But he knew no other way. The only choice was the one that could save Lara, no matter the danger.

“Don’t leave me yet,” Ronin said to her softly. “I need you to remind me, every day.”

Were she to have given even the smallest indication of awareness, a flutter of her eyelids or a twitch of her fingers, perhaps he could’ve ceased those frantic chains of thought. But her silence and stillness enveloped him like a corrosive fog, eating away at his mind.

How could he possibly carry on without her? He couldn’t live with the memories of his time with her taunting him, tormenting him, while his processors simulated thousands upon thousands of possibilities of what their lives could’ve been.

Newton lifted an arm and pointed ahead. “There.”

Ronin’s optics scanned the field, but he saw nothing but waving grass and the dust clouds kicked up by the wind. He knew the ruins of the base lay on the other side of the hills. He’d passed through it once since coming to Cheyenne, and what he’d seen there supported Newton’s story—a cracked tarmac overgrown with weeds and crumbled foundations and rubble scorched black.

Newton resumed walking, and Ronin followed without comment. His recent experiences had not instilled him with trust in either man or bot, but Lara’s survival depended on there being people here—people who were willing and able to help.

He tried not to dwell on the fact that both the willingness and the ability were in woefully short supply in this world.

They moved down a gradual slope and partway up the next incline, where Newton paused to check their surroundings before leading Ronin into a depression that blocked the landscape from sight. He bent forward, brushing aside tufts of long, dry grass to reveal a metal hatch.

Between the angle of the hill and the thick vegetation, this entrance was effectively invisible from most approaches.

Newton gripped the handle and pulled the hatch open. It was surprisingly smooth and quiet despite its apparent age.

He looked up at Ronin. “This is the most direct route inside, but we’ll have to take care in getting her down.”

Ronin stepped forward, glancing into the opening. Metal ladder rungs set in a concrete wall descended three meters into a dark corridor. “They’re down there?”

“As I said, it’s been a long while since my last visit. I don’t imagine they’d have gone anywhere, but it’s entirely possible they’ve relocated or perished in the time since.”

Lara didn’t have time for hesitation. If there was no help here, there was no help to be found at all.

“Hold her. I’ll go down, and you can pass her to me,” Ronin said, turning to Newton. He ignored the blaring alarms from the portions of his coding that had been overridden by fear.

If Newton meant them harm, what would he gain by reactivating Ronin and leading him here? Why bother powering him back on if he had malicious intentions?

Ronin gently passed Lara’s limp form into Newton’s outstretched arms. His limbs locked as he pulled away. She was so fragile. Even losing a few seconds of contact, when they were potentially so limited a commodity, made him again doubt if this was the right thing to do.

Holding her now will nothelp her recover.

Finally, he withdrew his hands, turned to the hatch, and lowered himself onto the ladder. The sound of his boots on the rungs echoed along the corridor, which extended into total darkness in either direction.

He looked upward the instant his feet were on the floor.

Standing over the opening, Newton maneuvered slowly to guide Lara’s legs through, sinking into a crouch as he lowered her. He adjusted his hold on her so his arms were beneath her armpits. Despite the discomfort she should’ve felt at such handling, she remained unconscious, head lolling.

Ronin placed his hands on her hips and gently drew her down against him with his cheek pressed to her bruised midsection. “I have her.”

Newton released Lara. Ronin shifted as her torso sagged, preventing her weight from coming down on her damaged ribs or broken arm. Adjusting his hold, he cradled her against his chest, smoothing her hair out of her face. She’d been so badly battered that not a centimeter of her had escaped injury.

Bare metal feet clanked on the ladder. Newton closed the hatch as quietly as it had been opened, plunging the tunnel into darkness. Ronin’s optics switched to infrared supported night vision.

A fine layer of dust coated the tunnel’s concrete floor. Though there were no footprints or other signs of habitation, the dust didn’t appear to have settled naturally, and it bore a strange pattern.

Were those…brush strokes?

“This way,” Newton said, voice low.