West tried to ease his aching stump by propping it up. He told Campo what had happened, greatly embellishing the heroism of himself and his men against overwhelming odds.
“Uh-huh,” Jake said, slurping his coffee. “Now that we got the bullshit outta the way, tell me the truth.”
“I just tole you!”
“No, you didn’t. You told me a bunch of lies. Raines probably pulled together a gang of civilians and then proceeded to kick your ass. He’s good at doin’ things like that. Now, West, ain’t that what really happened?”
West slumped back in his chair. His face still silently expressed the ache in his severed stump. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s just about it. Jake? You reckon they’s any truth in all them stories about Raines?”
““Bout him being a god, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Jake admitted, all humor leaving his eyes. “I’ve given that some thought. Hartline is probably the best soldier I ever served with. Hartline couldn’t take Raines. The Russian couldn’t take Raines; Raines whipped him good. The goddamned United States Government couldn’t even whip Raines back in “97 or so. Man’s been shot a dozen or more times, blown up, stabbed-can’t kill him. But he’s got to have his Achilles heel.”
“His what?”
“I always forget what a dumb son of a bitch you are,” Jake said contemptuously. “His weak spot.”
“Why didn’t you just say so? I’m gonna get him, Jake,” West said. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I’m gonna get Ben Raines.”
“Well, he’s headin’ west, that’s for sure. You ready to pitch in with me, now?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish I knew what Raines was up to,” Jake said. “He was travelin’ by himself “til he hooked with that brother-and-sister team. You ride with me from now on, West. We’ll get him, boy, don’t you worry none.”
The double-barreled shotgun was just about as big as the boy holding it. Ben cut his eyes upward and could see the shotgun was an old side-hammer type. And the hammers had not been cocked.
“Oh, my,” Ben said. “I guess you got the drop on me, son.”
“I sure do, partner,” the boy replied. “So don’t you try nothin” funny.”
“Oh, I won’t. Could I ask a favor of you before you shoot me?”
“What is it?”’
“You mind if I fix some breakfast? I hate to get shot on an empty stomach.”
“What you got to eat?” the boy asked. “I ain’t et in two, three days.”
“Oh, I have bacon and beans and crackers. How about it?”
The boy backed up and lowered the muzzle of the shotgun. “I reckon that’ll be all right, mister. Just be careful.”
The shotgun, Ben concluded, was at least a hundred years old. An old Damascus steel barrel. If the boy tried to fire any type of modern ammunition in the ancient weapon, he would probably end up killing himself, the twist barrel exploding and folding back.
Ben smiled as he laced up his boots and pumped up the stove. “You don’t need to hold that shotgun on me, son. By the time you could cock that thing, I would have taken it away from you. And even if it could fire, you’d hurt yourself with it.”
The boy’s shoulders sagged. He propped the shotgun against a wall of the porch. “You knowed all along, didn’t you, mister?”
“Yes. But I can’t short you on courage, son. You from around here?”’
“I don’t know where I’m from, mister. I’m just… just here.”
“You travel a lot, then. Right?”’
“All the time. I been on my own since I was …” His face screwed up in thought. “Since I was real little. I seen four season goings and comin’s since then.”
“I’d guess you about ten.”
The boy shrugged.
“You have a name, son?”
“Jordy.”
Ben stuck out his hand. “I’m Ben Raines.”
Jordy recoiled backward as if struck by a rattlesnake. “You ain’t, neither!” Jordy hissed.
“Yes, I am, Jordy.”
“You kilt a Beast with your bare hands! Cain’t no human do that.”
“I used a knife, Jordy, after I shot the thing with a .45. Besides,” he smiled, “Daniel Boone kilt a b’ar, too.”
“Who?” the boy asked.
Ben sighed. “Sit down and eat, Jordy. We’ll talk. Looks like I found me a traveling companion.”
The boy’s pinched face wrinkled in a broad smile. “You mean that? Truly?”’
“I truly do, Jordy.”
The boy looked at the knife, fork, and spoon in his tin plate. “What’s them things for?”
“It should be an interesting journey,” Ben said. “Very interesting.”
Ben had sat, fascinated, listening to the boy talk. While he ate with his fingers, stuffing his mouth with food as if it might be his last for days, Jordy told of people who lived in caves, deep underground, only venturing out during the night to hunt for food. There were others who lived in caves who would only venture out during the day, for they believed the night held evil spirits. He told Ben of a dozen warlords between the big river to the east and the flat ground to the west.
The Mississippi River and Kansas, Ben assumed.
Jordy told Ben of the many shrines he had seen, all erected toward the god Ben Raines.
“I am not a god, Jordy. And it’s wrong for people who believe that I am.”
The boy fixed young-old eyes on him. “You fell off a mountain and lived, didn’t you?”
“It was a small mountain.”
“You been shot a hundred times, ain’t you?”
“Not quite that many times.”
“The rats couldn’t kill you. The Beasts couldn’t kill you. Nobody can kill you. You’re a leader of people. People do what you tell them to do. You knew my shotgun wouldn’t fire, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“You just don’t wanna be a god, that’s all. That’s all right with me, if that’s what you want. I’ll play like you’re like everybody else.”
Ben sorted out Jordy’s rush of words and said, “Thank you.”
Jordy had not ridden in many vehicles and he was fascinated by the truck and all its gadgets.
“What happens if I turn this thing?” the boy asked.
“The radio comes on,” Ben explained.
“The what?”’
Ben’s smile was very sad. Jordy would have been about five years old when what was left of the U.s. collapsed. He would have absolutely no memory of television, and would have to have lived near a populated center to have any knowledge of radio.
“I know what a radio is!” Jordy blurted. “I think.”
“Tell me.”
“Voices come outta them things from a long way off, right?”’
“That’s… a reasonable assessment, I suppose. Jordy, do you have any memories of your parents?”
He shook his head. “No. But I had a sister. She was older. I haven’t seen her in a long time. That was four seasons ago.”
“How did you two separate?”
“Huh?”’
“What happened to your sister?”
“Some men grabbed her. She yelled for me to run. I took off. When I went back, she was gone and so was the men.”
No point in asking where it happened, Ben thought. “Can you read or write, Jordy?”
