Guns And Dust Ch 06

** Guns and Dust will be going on a 3-month hiatus! See comments at the end of this chapter for details. **

*****

- chapter six -

It had been more than an hour since the fight with the man the survivors called Shoah and Adina could tell Asher was anxious to be on the move again. Although his armored coat had saved him from a much more serious injury, the raider's bladed club had ripped loose a six-inch chunk of skin from Asher's right shoulder blade, right through the heart of one of his tattoos.

He hissed in pain as she carefully lifted his shirt off and everything spun when she saw the large, ragged flap of hanging skin.

Grimacing and hissing herself, she put a hand down to steady herself against swaying nausea.

"Oh Asher... He tore a big hunk of skin loose!" She pushed her long dark hair back behind her ears and rolled it too keep it out of the way, then leaned unsteadily for the first aid kit and grabbed the big bottle of sterile water to rinse it. She'd seen plenty of wounds in her nineteen years, but she wasn't usually the first one to treat serious ones. She wasn't a healer. As part of the training days in the rift, Asher asked her what she knew about treating wounds. She knew about using pressure to stop bleeding, how to stitch things and keep them clean, boiling water for sanitizing, the signs of infection and poisoning, even some medicinal plants. But as far as she knew, those were things everyone in large camps and caravans knew. He'd shown her where trauma supplies were and given her quick lessons in how to use those she was unfamiliar with. She was grateful for that now. It took everything she had to focus while what felt like ants crawled under her skin making her hands and arms shake.

Locked in the bearcat, she could hear the activity outside. The chaos was surprisingly organized. There wasn't the panic or debilitating grief and helplessness she'd seen in some groups after they'd taken such losses. The headwoman gave orders, cajoling and consoling in equal measure.

Adina grabbed the stitching kit looking away from the wound and taking a deep breath to steady her hands and nerves. She and Asher had retreated into the bearcat so she could look at his wound after they'd helped gather all the survivors together. Lookouts were posted in case Shoah or any of the other ghost eyes returned.

Asher turned over his shoulder trying to see. He indicated the first aid kit with his eyes. "There's a mirror in there. Slim left side internal pocket. Let me see."

Adina grabbed the polished metal mirror and spent several distracted seconds just running her fingers over it and staring at it. She'd never seen a

brand-new

mirror before. Then she handed it shakily to him. He peered at the reflection of the wound, his lapis blue eyes set off strikingly between his short-cropped white hair and similarly trimmed beard.

"Yeah, he really did a number on me. One of his eyebrows came up. "I guess I'm lucky I have someone who's so good at stitching with me." He grinned, his cheek dimpling making him suddenly look younger than his forty-something years. "Otherwise my tattoo's going to be a mess."

She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment before a barking sort of laugh erupted from her. She just watched his expression, her mouth hanging open. "You're joking? You've got a big chunk of..." she gestured at the flap, then threw her hands in the air, "

skin

hanging off your back like some kind of... I don't know what. And you're joking!?"

He smiled at her. "It's not the first time I've been hurt, Adina." He pointed to some of the numerous scars on his bare chest. "And it probably won't be the last." His expression softened. "Thank you for being so concerned."

She let the stitching kit fall into her lap with her hands, his easy humor undermining her anxiety. "Well, this is all new to me!" She pointed to the hanging flap, a shudder racing through her. "I'm used to stitching skin - after - it's off the animal!"

He laughed, then grimaced. "Okay, that hurts." He leaned toward her. "Come here."

She grinned stupidly caught between revulsion at his wound and his sudden charm and gave him a kiss.

"Do you think you can put it back?" He smiled again, looking at the wound in the mirror.

"I think so." She pointed to the bearcat's decking. "Lay down."

He did, grimacing at the strain as he put weight on his arm and the skin stretched. He glanced at her shoulder. "Once you're done, we need to immobilize your shoulder so that things knit back together."

Once he was settled, she flushed the wound. He hissed as the bloody water flowed over the raw meat where the skin should be and onto the metal floor. She carefully laid the skin flap back in place. "We're going to be the most attractive couple around," she quipped, able to breathe a little easier now. The wound wasn't as frightening once the skin flap was back in place. "Me trussed up and you stitched up like a pair of old shoes."

"Who's old?"

She grinned again and carefully pushed the small, curved needle through, then tied off the first stitch. It was so easy. She'd always worked with whatever they had around, her sewing needles or things the makers put together. The purpose-made needle was so small and smooth, it seemed to almost glide through the skin.

"Use the forceps in the kit," he commented, watching her work in the mirror. "It makes working with such a small needle easier."

"Forceps?"

"the bent jawed things that kind of look like scissors in the kit. They help hold the needle."

She looked in the kit and pulled out what he described. "These?" They were brightly polished and moved with amazing ease, then locked in place with little teeth between the handles.

He nodded. "Use those to hold the needle. It also helps to keep your hands away from the wound so that it doesn't get contaminated."

She gingerly grabbed the needle with the forceps and ran the next stitch. He was right, it was much easier.

There were local anesthetics in the kit, but he'd told her not to use them unless he told her to. It only took a few minutes for her to finish the job, carefully lining up the tattoo so that when it healed it the lines would be minimally broken.

"There, have a look." She held the mirror so he could see clearly.

"Looks great." He grinned again. "Thanks."

She flushed it again and when she was finished, let him sit up. She put antibiotic ointment on it and covered it with a dressing, then stuck it down with tape. The tape was

really

neat. She'd heard of it and had seen a few examples, but there were whole roles of the bright white adhesive-sided cloth in the trauma kits. She could think of a-million-and-one uses for it. Once he was cleaned up, she kissed his shoulder. "Okay, all done."

He grabbed a fresh shirt from his locker and pulled it on with a grimace, then nodded to his torn one as he hung it up, then his coat. "You'll have to show me how best to fix those." He smiled and sat down cross-legged in front of her. "Okay, your turn." He put her right arm in a sling and then tied a long strip of cloth around her arm and across her chest to keep her from moving it. "You should only have to wear that for a day or so. The nanos will take care of the rest.

"Nanos?"

He was closing up the kit. "Sorry, that's what we call the little robots running around inside us. "Nano" just means really tiny." He stopped, thought for a moment then looked her in the eyes. "You know how big a meter is, right?"

"Three point three feet or something. There are a thousand meters in a kilometer."

He nodded. "Exactly right. Nano means one

billionth

. Do you understand what a billion is?"

"Not really. I know it's a really large number."

"It's a thousand million. Does that make sense? That's nine zeroes after the number."

At her confused look he drew in the dust on one of the bearcat's horizontal surfaces. "A thousand has three zeroes after the number, right?"

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

He drew a one, then a comma and three zeroes. "A million has six zeroes." He added a comma and three more zeroes." "A billion has nine." Another comma and three more zeroes.

"Nanometer is one billionth of a meter. That's how small the robots inside you are. They're too small for even a normal microscope to see.

"Like what assayer's use?"

"Right. It takes a special kind of microscope to be able to see things that small."

She squinted, trying to wrap her head around the big numbers and tiny scale that didn't quite seem to mesh. "How can anyone see something that small?"

He held up a hand. "I don't know. I just know they can. But the way numbers are structured is important to understanding physics, okay?"

She nodded feeling dumb at the moment.

He seemed to pick up on her struggle and leaned forward putting his forehead against hers. "Hey." He waited for her to look up so he could see her eyes. "Thank you for saving my life today."

His eyes had taken on the strange depth again and she just wanted to stay there, lingering in that look forever. Her heart felt like it had suddenly ballooned up to twice its normal size. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she just pulled him into a kiss, cautious of the dressing on his back and frustrated by her bound right arm. He pulled her against him and when their lips finally parted, he ran a filthy hand over her cheek.

"We need to get going."

Adina stood at Asher's shoulder as the headwoman looked them over through narrowed eyes, sitting in the shade again with the ancient, but well-maintained lever-action rifle across her lap. The old woman's skin was dark, the color of red clay - rich ochre, baked by the harsh sun. Her hair was long, gray, dust caked, most of it hidden by a wrap made up of what had once been brightly colored scraps that covered her head and trailed to her shoulders. What hung below was braided into thick, ropey, dreadlocks. Her long, light colored, now scorched sleeveless coat touched the ground where she sat. Beneath it a large, faded blue wrap covered her shoulders over a long sleeve shirt that was homespun and dyed, not quite orange and not quite red. A wide belt with charms and pouches filled the space between her shirt and the dark narrow-legged trousers that tucked into the top of her moccasin-like boots. Most of the survivors stood and sat around them. Many were injured, hollow-eyed with loss and grief. Most were blackened by soot, if not from the fires, then recovering things from the burning vehicles. Some stood watch for the ghost eyes or Shoah while others who were too badly injured to move or grieved over fallen friends and loved ones were scattered in the shade of the other vehicles.

But the headwoman was unmoved, as hard as the baked ground they stood on. Adina had seen the deep compassion she showed to her grieving tribemates, even as she kept them moving.

"I've seen your kind before," the headwoman said, her eyes on Asher. "Since I was a little girl. Just never so close." She nodded to the bearcat. "Seen your hunchbacked machines in the distance, watching us. Sometimes just driving past."

She leaned forward putting ancient elbows on her knees, the rifle cradled like it was part of her withered frame. "Never seen your kind fight before, either." She watched him for a long time, then shifted her gaze to her. Adina could feel her assessing her with faded brown eyes. She turned her attention back to Asher. "I have a bargain for you."

Asher stood easily; his thumbs hooked in his pistol belt. "We've done what we can for you. We've given you what aid we are able to."

"You're looking for something." The headwoman interrupted. "All your kind are." She pointed a wizened finger at him. "Seen you from far in the east when I was little, then out here - again and again. Like ants crisscrossing the desert looking for the trail of something sweet. Myrmidons..." She sat back. "That's what I'll call you." She waved a hand dismissively. "You won't tell me the truth of who you are or what you're doing out here. Not like that matters anyhow." She raised a thick white eyebrow at them. "Myrmidon means

ant

in one of the ancient tongues. I always liked that word." She eyed him, her wrinkled features closing up. Adina couldn't tell if it was suspicion or respect. "And there was supposed to be great heroes called Myrmidons in the ancient world."

"We're not here to be anyone's heroes," Asher dismissed. Adina picked up on the shift in his posture, it was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He was uncomfortable.

The old woman cast a glance significantly around her. "I think some folks'd disagree."

Asher cocked his head slightly. "What's your name?" His tone was pleasant enough, but there was an edge to it that Adina could only think of as grudging respect, like he might have for a potential adversary. Or it might have been curiosity. But he was wary of this woman; she could feel the tension coming off him.

Adina looked at her again, trying to understand what it was that he saw, what set off his instincts. There was

something

. It was hard to pin down. It could have simply been that she'd never seen anyone as old as this woman be so powerful, so in control, especially after what had happened to her and her caravan. And there was something

extra

, hiding beyond her ancient hooded eyelids, behind her eyes. She

knew

something.

"I'm Priav." The old woman twisted her head slightly, watching Asher more with one eye than the other. "Or you can call me old woman, mother, or domina. Just don't call me late for supper. It takes me a while to get anywhere anymore." She gestured at them with a pursed lip sort of point of her chin. "And who are you?" She eyed Asher. "Or should I just call you Myrmidon?"

Asher pointed to his chest. "I'm Asher," then to her. "This is Adina."

As the old woman watched them, one thing what made Priav seem so unusual stood out. She was utterly unafraid of Asher. It wasn't a bravado sense of 'you can kill me, but I won't back down.' It was something that emanated from the old woman, a sense of certainty as if she were rooted to the earth beneath her and it to her.

Asher inclined his head to her. "Priav, we have a mission that we must return to. You are correct, we are looking for some..."

"Two days," Priav interrupted again. "It'll take us about two days, no more than four to get to our camp. You help us get there, and I will tell you about the lights in the sky and the haze city in the west."

What she said didn't mean anything to Adina, but its effect on Asher was clear. He stood stock still for almost a minute, his eyes never leaving the old woman. "You've

seen

the city?" He emphasized the word. His tone wasn't disbelief but seeking clarity.

"Of course not." She gestured to their remaining battered vehicles. "We look like we could navigate the sandsea? We look like we been showered with riches?" She leaned forward again. "But I've seen the way to it. Least the beginning of it. Two great pillars, like a gateway, glowering black shiny towers from the old world. And the lights in the sky to the west. Always to the west."

"When was this?"

"Years and years ago, when I was fit and healthy. But I know where it is. I'll never forget that. There's a landmark; impossible to miss. Find that, and you're near the gateway. Somewheres beyond that, the sandsea and your city with its strange lights in the sky."

"What landmark?"

Priav scoffed with a sharp "Ha!" then pointed at him. "Two days and I'll give you your answer. 'Sides, once you're at our camp you can trade. We got clean water and maybe things you need." She gestured to the bearcat. "Things to repay what you used helping us."

"We didn't help you for pay," Adina interjected. She was thoroughly confused by the exchange. But Priav seemed to know exactly what to say to get Asher's attention.

Haze city in the west? The sandsea? Lights in the sky?

There were occasional storms of strange lights in the sky. Sometimes they were meteor showers, other times sheets of blue and green light shimmered from horizon to horizon, but they were always short lived, maybe two or three nights.

Priav turned to her and her eyes narrowed to slits. "You're a fool, or naïve, girl. Nothing comes without payment." She nodded to Asher without looking away from her. "He knows that. There's a cost to everything." She looked her up and down again. "But you should know that. You're not one of them. You're like us - spent your life scratching dirt to live. How you come to be with him? Captive, slave? I've heard of these, or some like them taking slaves."

Her question struck Adina like a punch and the accusation of her being naïve made heat rise in her face and neck. Confusion kicked up again like the dust cloud from the big rifle.

"I'm not his slave, or his captive," she challenged back, her tone prouder and haughtier than she'd intended.

"Ahhh..." Priav sat back. Adina didn't like what her look said.

"We helped you because it was the right thing to do!" Adina riposted, feeling small and stupid in the old woman's gaze.

"We will be glad to trade," Asher interrupted, breaking the momentum the conversation seemed to be building. His voice was even, but she could hear the harsh edge creep into it. "We will help you for your information. But we cannot expend more resources to assist you that we cannot replace. If we fight again while we are escorting you, we will need to be compensated. What we did here. We did on our own." he gestured indicating the aftermath of the battle, then turned his gaze to Adina, keeping his eyes on her. "Because it was the right thing to do."

Adina's chest tightened at his unequivocal support.

He turned his attention back to Priav. "Now you are asking us for a service; one that must be paid for."

Priav's ancient eyes traveled between them. Then she barked, "Done!" without hesitation.

Getting the caravan moving took hours and it was it was dark before they finally moved off. And they didn't get very far. Priav wanted the caravan away from the battle site.

"Battle sites always attract predators and scavengers, some on four legs, some on two," she'd said.

They'd made camp when the stars were almost halfway through their nightly rotation and the camp fell quiet quickly after people stopped moving. Asher climbed up onto the top of the bearcat with a box and took a fine-looking instrument from it. She followed him up, enjoying the cool air as he raised the instrument and looked to the stars.

"That's a sextant, isn't it?"

He nodded adjusting the instrument. "You've seen one before?"

"Not as nice as that one. One of the caravan leaders used to use one. What are you doing with it?"

"The same thing he probably was, trying to figure out where we are." He looked at the side of the sextant and jotted down some numbers. He put the sextant back into its case and then sat cross legged in front of her, making quick calculations. He set the little notebook aside and nodded to where she was stitching the ragged hole in his shirt. "Thank you for doing that."

His simple appreciation made here grin stupidly again, everything inside her feeling like it had been knocked sideways. "You're welcome."

Their lovemaking that night was a gentle, quieter sort of thing. There was very little privacy in camps and Adina was used to everyone knowing everyone knowing each other's business. Groans and ecstatic moans, the slapping sound of bodies against each other were normal. But even inside the bearcat she would have felt awkward having the kind of passionate sex they normally did. This wasn't her camp; these weren't her people. And there was, of course, the issue of them both being injured. The torn skin on Asher's back was his worst

injury

, but he was battered and bruised. His entire left thigh was going black from where Shoah's motorcycle had apparently clipped him during the fight and his left elbow and shoulder looked like he'd been dragged across the hard ground. Even with his coat, he had wide, raw abrasions that were now hardening to scabs.