Page 159 of Dustwalker

“Who’s he?” Gary asked from the doorway.

“Private Peterson,” the soldier replied. “Where’s the woman?”

“In the back room.” Lara pointed beyond Gary. “Her name’s Kate.”

Peterson nodded, leaning over to peer inside the shack. “All right. We’ll make sure to bring her when we move out.”

“Bring her where?” Gary asked.

Lara faced him. “Some of the soldiers are going to escort the children, elderly, and anyone too sick to fight to a safe place before anything starts. After I do what I need to here, I’ll be heading there, too.” She took gentle hold of his arm. “They’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Gary stared at her for a long while before finally nodding. “I trust you, Lara.”

“Help me convince the others. The more people who stand against Warlord, the better. We can’t allow him to do this anymore.”

“Let me talk to Kate. Make sure she knows what’s happening.”

“We’ll be at the water pump.” Lara met Peterson’s gaze after Gary went inside.

“She’ll be in good hands,” the soldier said.

“I know. Thank you.”

The soldiers followed Lara as she wound through the slums, knocking on doors and calling to people through tent flaps. She roused some from their sleep, but many were already awake, preparing for the long, unforgiving day ahead.

She doubted any of them could’ve guessed how different this day would be.

Lara told everyone to gather at the water pump. The strengthening light made the red hair tucked beneath her hood more visible, and more than one person swore at her when they noticed it. A few even called her a traitor and spit at her feet.

Lara didn’t let them faze her. This was their one and only chance, and she would see it through.

Gary soon caught up with her, and people seemed more receptive to him. What had been done to his daughter and wife had been cruel beyond description, and by the look in people’s eyes when they saw him, Lara knew that many of the townsfolk had witnessed it firsthand.

Everyone had suffered the gearheads’justiceat some point. Their victims were everywhere—scarred men and women, some missing fingers, hands, or legs. More homes than Lara remembered bore Warlord’s symbol on their doors. But Maggie and Kate…that had been a step too far, even for these broken people.

Would that spark of outrage be enough?

It has to be.

When she finally reached the common area around the water pump, a crowd had already gathered, speaking in hushed voices. The air was thick with tension.

She found Newton and the other soldiers on the fringes of the crowd. He was wrapped in cloth from head to toe, concealing the bare metal of his casing.

“Spot any gearheads?” Lara asked.

Newton shook his head. “No. Everything is quiet. Relatively, at any rate.”

“Won’t be for much longer,” Captain Cooper said, shifting his gaze to the northeast. “Best get on with this so we can move when the time is right.”

Lara brushed her clammy palms over her skirt and approached the crowd.

Wewillmake this work. We haveto.

“What’s this all about?” an older man demanded, his voice carrying over the din to silence the other conversations. “I could be out pickin’ already. We’re losin’ good time!”

Lara recognized his scowling face. Steve had been a fieldworker since she was young, one of the few humans allowed to tend Cheyenne’s crops. An infected cut on his leg had nearly killed him a decade ago. He’d kept the leg, but he walked with a heavy limp to this day.

The crowd’s attention swung to Lara.