Peace in an Age of Metal and Men by Anthony Eichenlaub Read Free Book Online Page A

lingering there. “She’s afraid someone’s going to take it from her. She’s afraid of men from the city coming to take everything. She won’t let so much as a field mouse sneak into her junkyard.”
    “I got in.”
    “And you’re lucky she likes you so much. I’ve seen how she deals with strangers.”
    There wasn’t much to say about that. Josephine’s paranoia might have been justified. Maybe someone would take the junkyard from her. Could be that they’d take it even if she stayed. The rule of law held a lot of folks in check, but not everyone followed the same rules. Jo’s floating tank started to make a little more sense.
    Abi maneuvered Bessie around to land on a dusty outcropping of rock. “We’re here,” she said.
    The vehicle unfolded to let us out onto the rocky soil. Abi had landed us in the middle of the remains of an old building. Wooden parts had long since decayed to nothing, but meter-tall stone walls still stood partially buried in fine dust. Clusters of cacti stretched tall from the surrounding landscape, providing a relatively secluded feeling. Not far from the building, the remains of an old road still clung to the idea of existing. The asphalt had long since crumbled, but the soil beneath was packed hard enough that nothing of any significance grew there.
    “There’s a zone just over there that’s giving weird signals.” She pointed down the road, where a crooked wrong way sign stuck out of the dry earth. The paint on the sign was still legible, despite having been worn down by years and bullets. “That’s where your friend was telling you to go.”
    “We can’t fly any closer?”
    “No, sir. It’s a few more kilometers at least, but if we get any closer our systems will fail and we’ll drop like a rock.”
    “I’ll walk, then.”
    “Yes, you will.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Can I come with?”
    “Nope,” I said. “Too dangerous.”
    She blew out a whiskey-scented sigh. “Danger’s fine by me.”
    I shook my head.
    “Do you know how boring life is, living in a junkyard?” She gave me a moment to answer, but I didn’t. “Pretty damn boring. I want to go somewhere. Do something.”
    It would be nice to have someone by my side again. The extra eyes would help me spot trouble. Her experience with tech would no doubt be valuable. I liked her. Something about her earnestness was charming. It would be safer to have her with. It would be better.
    “No,” I said.
    I walked.

Chapter 8
    Swallow Hill wasn’t hardly big enough to spit at.
    The town was Main Street and a few outlying structures nestled comfortably into the cleavage of two rounded hills. The hills protected this little town, making it a beaten-down version of what might have passed for quaint a hundred years prior. Brick façades faced the main thoroughfare. A tavern, a bank, and a general store all lined up nicely across from a clock tower attached to what must have long ago been a church. Farther up the street sat squat residential buildings—some apartments and some single-family dwellings. Beyond that were more hills: cracked, broken mounds that made jagged edges of an otherwise pleasant horizon.
    The sun had climbed up the sky, baked the life out of the land, and now, having ravaged another perfectly good day, was lazily drifting back down. Stark, gray towers, about a kilometer out of town, hadn’t bothered me one bit. Cracked earth and punctured armor told of a battle long ago, but still these towers stood, sentinels against the sky.
    A man stood at the edge of town. His white hair fell in wisps down his back, and his filthy overalls looked like they barely held together. He had a rifle, clutched in his knobby hands. His eyes seemed to stare off into space.
    “Howdy,” I said by way of greeting.
    He didn’t respond. I waved a hand in front of his face and touched him on the shoulder. Nothing. He was alive and breathing. His eyes flashed a bright blue—light visible even in the sun.