It was a beautiful night. The sky was like a great ocean bedazzled with silver gems, flowing through the heavens, and down below the sinister dunes glowed with splashes of moonlight, and shining dust swirled with the breeze. It almost made July feel optimistic about how long it was going to take him to get to Bastille Point. “Don’t suppose you can limp any faster?” Tom jested, as they stopped for a moment under a rocky overpass.
“It’s not like Bastille Point is going anywhere,” July puffed. He sipped from his water bottle and pressed on, his metal leg occasionally scraping across the sandy rocks. A flame blazed over the horizon that they followed like moths chasing a light, the pale yellow of gleaming electricity. “Look, we’re almost there.”
A few peaceful hours of walking went by and the lights were now much brighter. July could make out the jagged outline of the wall and the tops of some buildings; the cross mounted atop the church and the purple neon sign flashing ‘Kedra’s Bar’.
Spot lights beamed down at him and he winced and yelled, temporarily blinded. “Argh fuck! Easy.” He tried to block the light with his hand.
A stern voice called down from the wall. “Sorry about that. Who are you? And what’s your business in Bastille Point.”
“You look familiar,” said another voice. “But that leg…”
July chuckled. “No kidding.” He glanced at Tom, who was also squinting against the light.
“My name’s Tom Harper, this is July Mundane. We’re scavengers… I guess.”
The man on the wall muttered something to his companion and then said, “Looking to sell?”
“Just passing through, actually, shouldn’t be staying more than a day.”
“Any weapons on you?”
“Just enough to protect ourselves.”
When the sentries were satisfied, the gate swung open and the travellers entered. Bastille Point seemed to be resting, and other than the two sentries, the only noise that could be heard was the chattering patrons of Kedra’s Bar. One of the sentries – an older man who wore a large cross on a chain around his neck – hopped down from his post and eyed July carefully. “Don’t go causing a stir, you hear?” he muttered.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said July.
But Thomas was eying the rifle held by the younger sentry. “Can I ask, what’s with the welcome party? I thought Bastille Point was relatively peaceful nowadays. Why increase security?”
The old sentry frowned. “Raiders,” he said. “Supposedly they’re moving south from Red-Rock again and that Leah Mackenzie girl is with them. Other than that, I don’t like the sound of this new Royalist fellow. The old man was an arse but at least he kept to himself towards the end, but his kid sounds like a damn conqueror to me and that eventually means trouble.”
“The raiders could be a problem,” said July, leaning close to Thomas.
The old man went on. “If you’re heading north I suggest you watch yourself, and grab some more ammo for that.” He pointed at July’s rifle and then turned and went back to his post.
July and Thomas walked towards the purple neon sign. “We can hire a mercenary,” Tom suggested.
“I’m more concerned about transport. With the raiders about it’ll cost twice as much to get a ride even as far as Red-Rock.”
They entered Kedra’s Bar. A few people were still up with metal cups in their hands, though two had fallen asleep at their booths along the wall. The air was rich with the aroma of cigarettes and liquor and July was frightfully aware of the gazes that followed him as his prosthetic leg clacked noisily with every step. Conversations were put on hold and patrons pondered curiously the presence of these two strangers. July felt their eyes crawling over his body, and suddenly he became anxious that one of these men could be a Templar looking for the men who stole The Good Book.
A woman slowly lifted her hand from behind the bar, bearing the same cautious eyes. She wasn’t Kedra, who was the previous owner of the bar the last time July was here. Obviously, something bad had finally happened to him. July remembered Thomas warning Kedra to get out of there, that a man of his particular tastes didn’t belong in a good Christian town.
July met the woman’s eyes and nervously scratched his cheek. “Room, please,” he said. “Still accept ammo?”
“Three shells,” she replied.
“Three?” said Tom. “It used to be one.”
“Prices are up. You can either pay or get out.”
With a sigh, Tom lifted three shining bullets from his pouch and handed them to her. She gestured to the hallway. “Come on,” she said, leading them upstairs, unlocking one of the rooms and handing Tom the key. “Don’t cause any trouble.”
When she left, July closed the door, set his things down and collapsed onto the bed, dust bounced into the air and the springs dug into his ribs, but he hardly noticed. Tom however checked outside the window and sat in the nearby chair, which creaked loudly under his weight. “This place has gotten worse.” He shook his head. “Poor Kedra.”
July laid with his hands behind his head. There was a stain on the ceiling from a leak in the floor above. “Yeah, at least he looked after it.” Something dawned on July’s mind; extra security and extra costs was a bad sign in a place like this. “You think all this has something to do with Noah?”
Tom fell into his own bed. “I honestly don’t know, but I don’t think we should ask too many questions while we’re here. Let’s just get a ride and get out.”
“Agreed.” July’s eyelids grew heavy.
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