The road wound its way around the mesa. I saw we were not even close to the top. There were three levels, and buildings rose from all of them. The bottom, which we were on, was the largest. It seemed to contain all the places of business, the wide outdoor markets, the bars, pretty much anywhere you could buy something.
“We’re heading to the Alpha’s Compound,” Makara said. “It’s where Char lives. It’s at the very top of Bluff and exclusive. No one will bother us, and that’s where the clinic is. Char, in addition to being the Alpha, is also good at stitching a wound. Hopefully this isn’t beyond his expertise.”
“Char was the one you raided with, right?”
Makara nodded. “Probably the only decent person who lives here. It’s weird for a decent man to lead a bunch of scum. It’s a wonder he’s still alive.”
We entered the second level. We were halfway up the bluff. On either side were well-constructed wooden cabins.
Makara pointed out a small building we drove by. A sign overhung the door, reading “The Bounty.”
“That’s the Bounty,” Makara said. “It’s a bar run by my friend Lisa. I’ve spent many-a-night there.”
“I remember you mentioning it.”
We rounded the last bend. Over the wooden rooftops of Bluff spread the vast panorama of dark desert. The black Colorado River flowed south and the sky above was dark and void.
We reached a final gate. A Raider pulled it open from the other side, revealing a long cobblestone road that led into a grassy courtyard. The green grass must have been watered and cared for to flourish like that. Flanking either side of the road were tall pines. I rolled down my window, the trees’ crisp, sweet smell pleasant yet foreign to my nostrils. The stone structure of the compound was a U-shape, surrounding the courtyard. It had narrow slits for windows; open air, no glass. Ahead, the cobblestone drive ended in a cul-de-sac. A wide yet short stairway led to a pair of heavy wooden doors. Judging from the thick stone walls, the compound had been constructed to withstand an all-out siege.
“Fancy,” I said.
“It’s grown over the last few years,” Makara said. “Each new Alpha leaves his own mark. Char redid the courtyard. The pines were taken from mountains far to the east.”
“Why is he called Char?” I asked.
Makara smiled grimly. “You will see.”
Makara pulled to a stop in the cul-de-sac. She powered off the vehicle, the hum of the hydrogen pressure tank dimming to nothing.
We hopped out of the vehicle. The air was dry, cold, and sharp. It had definitely dropped a few degrees. We went to Samuel’s side and opened the passenger’s door. Makara and I lifted Samuel from the Recon.
He stirred a bit and groaned. It was good to know he was still alive, though pale as a ghost. Despite the sound he made, his whole body was limp. He was dead weight between us.
“Come on,” Makara said. “We’re going to have to drag him.”
We dragged him through the compound, to the large front doors. Makara didn’t bother knocking. She threw the doors open with her shoulder, revealing a wide, dark interior lit by torches. We dragged Samuel inside.
“Char!” Makara screamed.
No one answered her call. The entry hall was empty, lit only by two blazing braziers along the far wall and a few torches ensconced upon four heavy pillars supporting the room’s structure.
A shadow materialized in front of us, moving forward at lightning speed.
“Watch out!” I said.
Makara reached for her handgun with her free hand, never letting go of Samuel.
A thin, curved sword was placed at the base of Makara’s neck.
“Not so fast,” a young, female voice said.
Chapter 2
Standing in the light, the bearer of the sword was a black-haired girl, about my age, with green almond eyes. The eyes narrowed as she edged the blade closer to Makara’s throat. I saw that she was beautiful, with a short, yet curvy, figure. I berated myself for even noticing that at a time like this, but even at the threat of one’s life, guys couldn’t help but notice certain things.
“Who are you,” she asked dangerously, “and what are you doing here?”
Makara spoke first, making an effort to keep calm. “We’re here to see Char, girl. Put that thing away or there’s going to be trouble.”
“Char is not here.” The girl did not withdraw her sword. In fact, it looked as if it was more in her mind to use it. “If you had been cleared, I would be the first to know. I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me who you are, and why you’re here. This wouldn’t be the first assassination attempt I’ve stopped.”
“I don’t know who you think
The front doors banged open. I turned to see a grizzled man, probably in his fifties, enter.
“Makara,” he said, his voice gravelly.
There was no mistaking the man’s air of command. He was Char. He was tall with broad shoulders and a shaved head. Two guards flanked his either side, holding rifles. His sharp blue eyes surveyed us all calmly. He wore green camo pants and a thick black leather jacket. A tattoo of a snakelike dragon eating its own tail was emblazoned on his forearm. But his most striking feature was his face. A deep burn wound scarred his right cheek. That wound had happened long ago and would never fully heal.
No one said anything as the man stepped forward.
“I am sorry I was not here to greet you,” he said to Makara. “Politics.”
The girl glanced from Char to Makara, not sure what to do.
“Stand down, Anna,” Char said. “I appreciate your drive to protect me, but Makara is a friend.”
Anna pulled the blade back, sheathing it immediately. Those beautiful eyes stung with hurt. “Char, no one let me know of Makara’s arrival.”
“Your loyalty is admirable, but Makara is to be treated with the same respect you would give to any of my guests. More, in fact. But we don’t have time for hurt feelings, do we?”
He faced Samuel, who lay on the ground between Makara and me.
“Lay him face-up,” Char said. “I need to see the wound.”
We laid Samuel on the ground. Char walked forward and knelt beside him. He placed two fingers on Samuel’s neck.
He glanced sideways at Makara. “Is the bullet still in?”
“Yes. It happened about ten hours ago.”
“Humph.”
Char retrieved a knife from his belt and cut Samuel’s white tee shirt open at the shoulder. He pulled the fabric back tenderly to reveal the wound. Fresh red blood trickled out. The surrounding skin was black, purple, and green.
“He’s out,” Char said. “But he’ll be dead if I try to pull it out of him like this. He needs morphine.”
“You have that, don’t you?” Makara asked.
Char grunted. “A bit. I do not want to use it on an outsider.”
“My brother is not an outsider,” Makara said. “He is family, as much a Raider as anybody here.”
“Don’t worry,” Char said. “I wouldn’t let you bring him all this way to tell you no.”
“Good. You had me worried.” Makara’s eyes went up to Anna and narrowed, as if willing the katana- wielding girl away. Anna merely stood, meeting Makara’s stare without blinking.
“This is Anna, my bodyguard. You noticed her katana, I presume. She lives by the Bushido Code.”
“Are you a samurai?” I asked.
Anna gave a single nod, but no word for answer.
“I thought samurai were supposed to be Japanese,” Makara said. “And men.”
