Page 46 of Dustwalker

Those things killed people today. Marched into town and just started killing people. I watched from the window as people were dragged into the park and executed.

“And this is what he ate,” Lara said, calling Ronin’s attention back to her. She stood near the bookcase, holding up a jar with a dark, unidentifiable substance inside it. “Trust me when I saynotto open them.”

Ronin studied the objects one at a time, cataloguing them in his memory. It was impossible to say how long ago the words had been written, how long ago the writer had lived. Many, many years, certainly. “He?”

She stepped closer to him, turning the pages to reveal the photographs tucked in the middle of the book. The top one was a picture of a family. The adult male and female had dark brown hair and eyes, and the two children resembled them closely.

“Pretty sure it was him,” Lara said, tapping the man’s face.

Humans didn’t look like that anymore. It wasn’t that those in the picture had drastically different features than modern people; basic human facial structures and proportions were unchanged. No, it was the light in their eyes, the genuine smiles on their faces.

The people in the photo were happy, healthy, andalive.

Lara moved to the window. “And he had a great view.”

Outside, sunlight sparkled on the surface of the pond in the middle of the park and cast golden halos around the treetops.

I watched from the window as people were dragged into the park and executed.

“Come away from there,” Ronin said, tone sharp even to his own receptors.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“There’s food downstairs, and you’re likely in need of hydration after spending so much time up here in the heat. Go clean yourself up and have something to eat.”

She looked down at herself. Dust clung to her clothing and sweat-dampened skin.

“Yeah…guess I didn’t notice. I maybe got a little carried away.” She plucked restlessly at the hem of her skirt before letting it drop.

“I found some more clothes for you at the market. They might not fit quite right, but they’ll be better than nothing until we can adjust them.” His boots thumped on the floorboards as he walked to the hatch. “Go on. I’d rather you get down safe before it collapses under me.”

“Okay, okay.” With one last glance at the window, she hurried over and climbed down.

Ronin’s optics lingered on the evidence of that mysterious, long departed resident before he shifted them to the book in his hand.JOURNALwas barely legible on the front cover. He slipped it into his pocket and headed downstairs.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As Lara showered, Ronin banished himself to the lower level, doing all he could to keep from simulating images of her naked body glistening in the water.

He moved his bag into the kitchen and unpacked the food, setting it out on the island counter. After refilling her canteen, he carried it to the table, sat down, and removed the journal from his pocket. A human had penned it, just as Lara said, and Ronin knew the story it told would not be comforting to either of them.

He brushed his thumb over the cover, but he didn’t open it.

After eleven minutes and fourteen seconds, Lara entered the kitchen, her wet hair hanging down her back. She wore some of the clothes he’d obtained for her—olive fatigues with patches on the knees and a baggy, off-white wool sweater. Its broad neck sagged off her pale, freckled shoulder. He averted his gaze as she hurried to the food.

Thankful for the distraction, Ronin pocketed the journal and watched her eat. The eclectic meal she’d selected, consisting of smoked meat and roasted vegetables, rapidly vanished. He couldn’t look away as her expression subtly changed with each new flavor, as her tongue slipped out to lick her lips clean, as she made soft, contented sounds in her throat. Even in something as simple as food, she found pleasure. No programming required.

“So,” she said around a mouthful of food, “Ronin your real name?”

“It’s the only one I have,” he replied, forcing his optics to meet her eyes.

“Did someone give it to you, or did you choose it?”

“I chose it twelve years after I was reactivated.”

“Twelve years with no name?” She swallowed, ran her tongue over her teeth, and took another bite.

Though he’d been fully operational, those early years were confusing to him, and his memories of them were disorienting. Despite all the data he’d accumulated since, his recollection of that period was forever tainted by how little he’d understood at the time. He’d known the world was broken, that everything was wrong, but couldn’t determine how or why.