town.”
It might have been a nod, the way she dipped her chin slightly, but they were already moving out the door.
So they’d left his motorcycle behind to save on fuel, and allow them to talk on the move. All the excess supplies, heavy stuff like Raxx’s power converter and the extra fuel jerries, had been removed from the truck bed, stored in the locker they’d rented by Hope’s front gate. Raxx had gone through his pre-drive tune up, checking for anything that could have gone wrong after a week of sitting idle, while Wentworth pulled out his Datapad.
He’d been trying to plot the survey map’s information onto his electronic satellite picture, but there was a snag; the grid system from the survey was nowhere in his database. Eventually he settled for approximating the locations, a slow and tedious process. It would have to do.
Raxx slammed down the hood and got into the driver’s seat. “She’s good to go,” Wentworth was rolling up the map, he slid it into the passenger seat. “What are you up to?” asked Raxx, noticing the Datapad.
“Got the data from this map punched in, now I’m running it through a hunter/seeker algorithm. It’ll give us an approximation of where this Slayer guy’s hiding out.” He tilted the Datapad so that Raxx could see it. “It’s taking into account all the roads, and the elevation, too…okay, here. We got it.” A splotchy pattern appeared on the screen. “That’s the estimated location.”
“What, all of it?”
“No, it’s probabilistic — the brighter the colour, the better the chance that they’ll be there. Make sense?”
“I guess so,” he shifted the truck into gear and drove out the town gate, waving at the Constable guarding it. “So does that thing tell you where we’re going first?”
“Well, there’s one of those townships O’Neil was talking about right next to the area of interest. How about we start there?”
Raxx just nodded. Wentworth gave him directions, and they began circling around south like the Captain had suggested. The roads were in rough shape, but all of them were passable. Raxx pulled out a cigarillo, held it for a second, then asked, “So how do you know you can trust that thing thinking for ya? How do you know it’s not lying?”
Wentworth closed his eyes. It was easy to forget at times that Raxx was like the rest of them. “I don’t know how to explain it. It just won’t. It might be wrong, but it won’t lie. Just… trust me on that.”
After a moment Raxx nodded.
The clouds had cleared, and the ride was smooth. The klicks ate away at the tension. Raxx’s cigarillo remained forgotten in his hand, and Wentworth started tapping out an old song on the vehicle’s roof. There’d be time enough for tension later.
The township appeared ahead of them as the truck crested a rise, the pitch of the engine’s hum dropping as Raxx let it idle in fifth. Wentworth’s limbs felt loose and ready as he lowered his foot to the floor.
Raxx began downshifting, slowing the vehicle to a stop just past the first building. Leaving their longarms behind, the two men stepped out of the vehicle in unison, their doors slamming shut in quick succession. The disturbed dust from the trucks passage came from behind and flowed past as they surveyed the scene in front of them.
There were about a dozen buildings on either side of the highway and no side streets. They were mostly constructed out of whitewashed wood, probably scavenged, but without the motley assembly found in most burgs. On the western edge of town, on the right, was a warehouse and across from it a windmill. Halfway down the street, on the north side, was the largest building in the area; a box structure with a barn roof and a small steeple with a bell. It opened onto the street by a pair of large double doors.
There were a few people wandering about doing their shopping, and a couple of carriages drawn by oxen. The carriages were made of welded steel and wood with a traditional design, showing no sign of automotive parts in their construction. The Mennites were all dressed in black, the men sporting long beards and wide brimmed hats, with most of them women wearing a neckerchief tied over their heads. There were no children to be seen.
Wentworth knew that the two of them stood out; even in a trade city, his own bearing combined with Raxx’s height and facial piercings made them hard to ignore; out here it was even worse. But the locals didn’t spare them a glance. It wasn’t politeness, though. The lack of curiosity felt baleful.
“I think we’re being ignored,” he said.
“Yeah, I get that too.”
They strolled over to one of the open air stands. There was a selection of fruit and vegetables for sale. Wentworth took an apple, and Raxx picked up a green pepper, walking over to the counter to pay the proprietor. She was plump and well fed, with grey in her hair.
“Good afternoon, young gents,” she said in a sing-song voice, “Come out all this way for a couple of Annie’s veggies? She’s not that famous is she?”
Wentworth smiled and reached for his money-fold. “Well I have been told that this is where to find the juiciest greens around. And driving down these roads is thirsty work.”
“Well in that case you won’t be disappointed! I hope these’ll cure what ails you.”
“Say,” started Raxx, also putting on a friendly expression, “we’ve heard that there’s been some trouble in the area recently. Is it anything we ought to be worried about?”
“Oh, there have been a few boys being boys, I’m sure you know all about that, but nothing to be concerned with, no.”
“Really?” said Wentworth, doing his best to keep his tone light. “We heard that it’s been going as far as theft, and it’s getting worse. There’s really nothing for us to be worried about?”
His prying caused her expression to freeze around the edges, though she maintained her cheerful facade. “Oh, well, ol’ Annie doesn’t get out much, gents. Might be, might be there’s been some trouble she hasn’t heard about. Best you be talking to Mr. Jenkins about what’s been happening in these here parts. He’s always been so keen about that sort of thing, you’ll most-like find him in the Church,” she indicated the barn-like building with a nod of her head. “So is that all then for you? In that case Annie has some work she must attend to.” She hurried off back into her shop, not waiting for their reply. The two of them wandered back to the truck and leaned against its grill as they ate.
“This is going well,” said Wentworth.
“Yeah. I think I’m getting an idea of why the Captain was so frustrated by these people.” He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, “So do you want to see what this Jenkins guy has to say? He sounds like one of the elders who stonewalled O’Neil. Maybe we can get something out of him.”
“Guess so. Let’s go after we finish these.”
They finished eating and walked over to the Church. For a moment Wentworth was at a loss. He knocked on the door, but the wood was too thick. His knuckles barely made a sound.
“We just walk in,” provided Raxx noticing Wentworth’s confusion, “but you should probably remove your goggles, out of politeness.” He pulled the heavy door open and stepped in.
Uncertain of the setting, Wentworth let Raxx take the lead. The interior was dim, the only light coming from narrow windows high up on the walls, and an array of candles at the far back. Immediately upon entering they were in an alcove used for hanging coats, and posting notices. An open archway led into the main room of the Church. Several rows of uncomfortable looking benches were on either side, and towards the back, in front of the candles, was a raised platform with a podium on it. Hanging on the back wall was a carving of a man nailed to a couple of wooden stakes. Wentworth vaguely recognized this as one of the gods of an old religion, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Without wasting time rubbernecking Raxx led the way into the main room, Wentworth following in his wake. Dust motes floated motionlessly in the diffused light coming through the windows, and their footfalls made echoing retorts through the building’s silence. In the left corner at the back, standing by a small hallway, stood a figure wearing robes and holding a book. His dark hair was slicked back, and beard was sharp and neat. He looked up as they entered, eyes devoid of emotion.
“Excuse me sir,” said Raxx, “Are you Father Jenkins?”
“I am
