Free Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) by Susan Kim, Laurence Klavan Page B

breathing,” said Caleb. “Barely.”
    The four dismounted and fell in line behind Caleb. There was no need to ask the details; everyone understood what they needed to know. But without being prompted, one of them handed over her water bottle and another took control of Caleb’s bicycle so he had a moment to drink.
    By the time they approached the center of town, there were at least two dozen townspeople accompanying them. There was virtually no sound; as newcomers joined in, they were briefly told of what happened in whispers, and then the silence resumed. Without speaking, all had done the unthinkable act of leaving their jobs, and beneath their robes and headdresses and sunglasses, their faces were shocked and somber.
    One of them, the guard’s partner, walked up front with Caleb. At first glance, Aima seemed stoic, a sturdy, heavily pregnant fifteen-year-old accustomed to unexpected hardship. But beneath her dusty head cloth, her eyes were dark holes in an ashen face. She gripped her unconscious partner’s hand, massive in her small one, and stroked it with her thumb, as if trying to will him back to health.
    Word had been sent ahead of them and by the time the procession reached Prin, Rafe and a small crowd were outside, waiting. Several townspeople managed to lift the boy and carry him into his storefront home. Once inside, Aima and her friends would wash him and tend to his wounds as best as they knew how.
    Rafe was taken aback to see a mere stranger followed by the citizens of Prin. As he stepped forward to greet him, he cleared his throat and attempted to take control.
    “Thank you for bringing home one of ours,” Rafe said. Even to his own ears, his words sounded falsely hearty.
    The stranger said nothing and merely bowed his head in acknowledgment.
    “Did you see who done it?” continued Rafe. “Or did he run off before you got there?”
    “I seen them,” said Caleb.
    Rafe nodded. “So it was more than one,” he said, then turned to spit in the dust. “That makes Trey an even bigger hero. I bet he gave them a good fight with those weapons. Still, we’re glad you come along when you did. Must’ve helped scare them off.”
    Rafe’s voice shook and again he cleared his throat, to cover it. He was aware that everyone in town was not only staring at him; they were judging him, weighing his words.
    It was, after all, his idea that guards be posted that morning, alone, and without any kind of training or backup. In retrospect, even he had to admit that perhaps it was a bad impulse. He had acted rashly, without a real plan. Without weapons, real weapons from the Source that idiot Sarah had promised then failed to deliver, what other choice did he have?
    Now Trey’s partner stopped as she headed indoors to tend to the boy. In front of Rafe, her eyes blazing, Aima spoke in a low, accusatory voice.
    “Trey never fought those mutants and you know it,” she said. “He’s too gentle. And you sent him there alone. You sent him out there and now he’s—” A sudden spasm of anger contorted her face and she pushed past him to get inside.
    Rattled, Rafe cleared his throat, hoping no one else had heard. He was now aware that the stranger was speaking.
    “—wonder if you could give me some information,” Caleb was saying. “I have some private business to look into.”
    “Of course, of course,” said Rafe, with a wave of his hand. He was not listening; too busy worrying what the townspeople were thinking of him, he had already dismissed the stranger to the realm of the unimportant.
    But at that moment, there was a new commotion.
    A small boy and even smaller girl had just arrived, and they were both talking to whoever would listen. They were breathless and shrill, words tumbling over one another in their haste to speak.
    “We seen it—” said the boy.
    “We was hiding,” said the girl. “We heard a noise so we hid. Then we seen it—”
    “There was five of them. He was shooting rocks, like this,