Free There Will Always Be a Max by Michael R. Underwood Page B

six of them, a raiding party. Four bikes and a war buggy. Artemis killed two, and they skipped out with our ride. Left just me, Sarah, and little Bo.”
    â€œI ain’t little,” Bo said with all the petulance of a teen trying to play older than their years.
    King waved to the cart. “What supplies?”
    The woman, Sarah, said, “This was an aid station. We found a mobile water filtration system. One of these can make two hundred gallons an hour when it’s working right. Triple filtration—minerals, muck, and breather deaths, all of it. Everything. We haven’t had clean drinking water in years.”
    â€œWhat about filters?”
    â€œGot filters, too,” the man said. “Enough for a lifetime.”
    King approached, hands open. “Here’s the score. We load up as much as we can, hook the trailer to my rig, and then we drive as fast as can be for your Enclave. How far?”
    Bo answered. “A hundred miles, down and up a valley, over a canyon. The Skull Boys don’t like to go past the canyon—too much sand and dust down there. It’s dirty.”
    The woman added, “Irradiated.”
    King nodded. “But you went through.”
    â€œWe ain’t exactly flush, Max .” The girl spat his name like a dart. She wasn’t sold on him as their savior. Not yet.
    She was right to doubt. Maxes weren’t infallible—they lost their way, got swallowed up by the wasteland like Roman almost had been. They’d only trust King as far as they could use him, if that.
    â€œI can get you there. Payment in gasoline. Enough to get me back here, plus some extra. And some of those filters.”
    â€œDone,” Sarah said.
    Xiao turned at her, doubt-wracked. “Can we trust him?”
    â€œYou can trust me, or you can walk home. Even with a filter, you’ll need storms to get that far back, and more food than I ken, ’less you’ve got some cows inside all stealth-like.” King heightened the post-apocalypse cant to put them at ease, show that he was apart but not unlike. He belonged here as much as they did. Even if it was all a lie.
    The three whispered. The girl waved the gun around, forgetting muzzle discipline in her passion. King flinched every time her arm swung around, the gun’s barrel crossing the line of his body.
    They’d say yes. That’s how this story went. What wasn’t certain was who would survive. Who’d walk across the finish line, and with how much gas or blood or water remaining. This region wasn’t known for its clean endings.
    â€œFine,” Sarah said. “We’ll pay your price, Max. Now get us home.”
    King nodded, then started barking orders. “You, kid, you’re Bo?”
    She raised her jaw. “Bo, daughter of Artemis, daughter of Lenae.” A lineage, and one to be proud of, judging by the child’s tone.
    King nodded. “You keep watch. But not just the way they came from. Every which way. Put a swivel on.” Pointing at Xiao, he said, “You help me hook up the tow winch.” Then to Sarah: “Make sure everything’s loaded, and sort out whatever bullets and bangers you’ve got left. We motor in five.”
    *   *   *
    Bo rode shotgun, head swiveling to watch the horizon in all directions. Xiao rode the still-functional motorcycle left by the Skull Boys. Sarah sat in the back with the spare guns and ammo.
    The car’s engine moaned a complaint, dragging nearly a ton of extra weight between passengers and the cargo.
    But it was still a Force. The Max always drove a Force. It was part and parcel with the guns, the jacket. Every legend had its raiment, its icons. But the raiment alone wasn’t enough to channel the legend.
    King had worked four missions on this world, one before Roman, one with, then another two after Roman had joined the team. Two times as a Max. And not a single time had he come back without at