Page 32 of Dustwalker

“Are those…bullet holes?” Lara asked.

Ronin looked down. “I’m much better at dodging questions than I am other things, obviously.”

“That happen in the Dust?” Lara stepped around the central counter and approached him, focusing her attention on the wounds.

If they could even be called wounds.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his vibrant green eyes locked on her as she stopped in front of him and bent down to examine the holes.

The metal they exposed was intact but shiny, as though it had been freshly polished. Her brows fell. Could bots feel pain? Had Roninfelt pain?

Without thinking, she reached forward to touch the damaged skin.

No touching.

Lara stilled her hand before her fingers could make contact and straightened. She sure as hell wasn’t going to give him an excuse to break that part of their deal. “What’s out there?”

The muscles of his jaw bunched. She knew he didn’t actually have muscles, but what else was she supposed to call the parts that moved his face?

“The name says it all,” he said, watching her. “Not much of anythingbut dirt, lying over the top of the old world. If you’re willing to dig, there are things of value hidden all over.”

“How far have you gone? How many miles?”

“How high can you count?”

Lara glared at him.

“It’s a valid question,” he said.

“I’m not stupid.”

Ronin’s eyes narrowed. “Never said you were.”

“Damn near did.”

“What does a number tell you if?—”

“I can count,” she snapped. “I can’t read, but I can fucking count.”

“To what? Thousands? Millions?”

“Just answer the damned question!” Her face heated. So what if she couldn’t count that high? He was probably just making up numbers to make her feel stupid.

“I’ve gone just about everywhere that isn’t blocked by water. Walked one million, two thousand, seven hundred and seventy-four miles.”

It was a bigger number than she’d ever heard, which only increased its enormity to Lara. Still, something stirred inside her, a dangerous feeling. Hope. If he’d truly gone so far, he’d seen other places. Other settlements.

She struggled to keep that hope contained. “It’s not all dust, right?”

“Most of it is,” Ronin replied, his expression softening. “Some places are better off than others. Cheyenne seems to have been spared the worst of it.”

So this was as good as it got?

As quickly as it had come, that hope dimmed. “Why just this place?”

CHAPTER TEN

“I didn’t say Cheyenne is the only one,” Ronin said. “There are other towns where things are in order, but some places were turned into craters where the rubble is so fine you can sift it through your fingers. Entire cities turned to dust.”