Fire paved my way. Part one
Arranging weapons supplies with the Lunatics is a pleasure you'd happily give to the worst enemy, but Augustus always took it upon himself. The thought that Martin would have to speak face to face with these scavengers disgusted him.
That's what the knechte called the Lunatics — scavengers or jackals. One of the elders told Augustus that before Crossout such animals that fed on carrion and never attacked strong predators lived in the deserts. A suitable comparison for Pete's gang, which he for some reason dares call a “faction”.
On the way to the camp, Augustus tried to keep the details of the negotiations in his head in order to tell Martin about them, but the hard day stubbornly invaded his head, and his throat still burned with a smack of smoke.
…The air around him fluttered. Augustus looked in the face of a grinning Pete and tried to understand: “Burn precious fuel in ugly braziers — for what? Scare? Build himself up?”
— A worthy weapon for brave people, — said Pete, with mock suavity his voice. — Take a look yourself.
The “Rupture” was really good. Examining the well-aligned shotgun body, Augustus tried to imagine a lunatic who could build that. The image of a mad old man with a burnt face appeared in his head.
The revolver, made for Augustus and so far unnamed, lay separately. The terrifying weapon will become a real treat for any car. The adviser ran his fingers over the metal, studying the coarse, but even welding.
—A truly worthy weapon, Pete. Let's talk about the price.
Pain in his silver eye brought the knight back from oblivion. Covering the aching organ with his palm, Augustus peered into the road. Somewhere, the detachment should have already seen the camp lights — white as knightly banners.
Clearing his throat, Augustus reached for the toggle switch of the transmitter:
— From here I do not see the identification beacons. And what about the hills?
The communications rattled, and a couple of seconds later the knechte responded. He moved along a long embankment, providing the detachment with cover from the side.
— Nothing so far, Augustus.
— Got it, — the adviser blinked slowly, removing his palm from his eye. — Get down. From here we will no longer be taken by surprise.
Straightening the steering wheel, Augustus rose above the seat, hoping to see at least something. The new half-disassembled revolver lay in the back seat, and the knight would hardly have time to install it in the car, had the situation become critical.
After another minute, a chain of white lights finally cut through the darkness. Exhaling lightly, Augustus fell back into his chair.
Someone expected them.
Martin greeted the knights in person. Releasing the people, Augustus set off for the leader in the far part of the camp. Here they could check the weapons again and discuss matters.
There was something strange about the weapons. Augustus caught that Martin, studying the new guns, plunged into numb thoughtfulness. The young leader silently examined the shotgun, nodded, studying its design. The silence, broken only by crackling fires and gusts of wind, fell on Augustus’ shoulders with a lead cloak. The adviser peered into the fire — and suddenly froze, trying in vain to drive away from the image that had resurfaced in memory.
To be continued…
