Free Jason Frost - Warlord 05 - Terminal Island by Jason Frost - Warlord 05

asshole.”
    Fallows got up and looked at the half dozen of his men who were now gathered around the scene, their guns covering the crowd. “Never mind them,” he shouted at them. “Where were you ten seconds ago when this maniac was trying to kill me?” He walked over to Tim who was brushing dirt from his pants. “Hadn’t been for the kid here I’d be dead.”
    Fallows’ men didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t do any good to apologize. Fallows did not accept excuses. At any minute he might open fire on them as an example to others. Even armed as they were with six of them against him, none thought their chances of survival against an alerted Fallows was even a remote possibility. They’d all seen him work before.
    They waited.
    Fallows laughed, threw his arm around Tim’s shoulder. “You’re really learning, Tim. Those are fast reflexes. Faster than me or Eric.”
    At the mention of his father’s name, Tim shrugged off Fallows’ arm and walked off toward the woods. He knew Fallows was watching him, but that he wouldn’t follow. Why bother? There was nowhere to go. Tim had tried many times to escape, but each time they’d caught him and brought him back to hours of slow torture by Fallows. The cuts, the burns, the starvation. Eventually Tim stopped trying. Then his food rations were increased. Fallows had stepped up the lessons, expanding them to include all phases of combat and survival. His muscles had grown along with his height. Tim had to admit, he liked his new body, as manly as any of Fallows’ soldiers. If he were still back at school he could be on any junior varsity team he wanted: basketball, volleyball, wrestling.
    Tim sat on an uprooted tree trunk. He could name all the plants within sight, knew how to use them to eat, drink, kill. Much of that knowledge Eric had already taught him, or Big Bill Tenderwolf had on their visits, but before it had just been useless information. Now it all made sense. Knowledge was power; power was survival. Fallows had taught him that.
    In the evenings they played chess together, just as Tim used to do with his father. Fallows favored the Caro-Kann Defense or Sicilian Attack. Eric’s game had been more patient, flexible. In a match between his father and Fallows he wasn’t sure who would win, any more than he knew who would win this battle between them now. Any more than he knew why he had saved Fallows’ life.
    Saved his life. The man who had killed his mother and sister. Who had tortured him. Who was trying to kill his father.
    Tim had saved him .
    Saved Fallows!
    Tim felt the tears flood his eyes. He blinked and sent them cascading down his cheeks. Nothing made sense. Where was his father? It had been months since that last rescue attempt. Tim rubbed his leg where Fallows had shot him. The scar was still there, like a white crater pasted on the back of his thigh. Still, it was Fallows who kept him alive now, who taught him things. Eric had had Big Bill Tenderwolf as a teacher; Tim had Fallows. It was Fallows who made sure everyone else treated Tim with respect. Even the other soldiers were a little afraid of Tim because of Fallows. And every village or settlement they marched through, people cowered, gave them anything they wanted. Those who fought always lost. Fallows had no mercy. They had a reputation now. He could see the panic and fear in people’s eyes when they saw Fallows’ men. Tim liked that feeling of power. After all these months of helplessness, it felt good to have some control.
    What about his father? What about Eric Ravensmith?
    “Tim,” Fallows said.
    Tim turned. He hadn’t heard Fallows walk up. No one ever did.
    “Thinking?”
    Tim nodded.
    “A rare exercise around here.”
    Tim looked at Fallows. It was something Eric might have said. Did Fallows know that? Was this part of the chess match?
    Fallows sat down on the log next to him. “I appreciate what you did back there. You’ve become a first-rate soldier.”
    “I didn’t stop to