Wells Town-7: Dawn of Departure
“S-save me…!”
A desperate voice echoed across the parched wasteland.
The last survivor had been running for the town after the driver died and the car flipped. Shot in the leg, he collapsed just short of safety and thrashed wildly, trying to crawl away from her.
Click.
Lena opened the cylinder, loaded fresh rounds, and walked toward him with her revolver already raised.
“I-I didn’t want to do it! The boss… no, that bastard made me—!”
“If you didn’t want to, you shouldn’t have done it.”
Bang!
The gunshot cracked. The lackey’s head snapped back. He dropped.
A faint puff of dust rose. The dim glow of his cyberware flickered once, then died.
……
Lena holstered the still-warm pistol and headed straight for her car parked a short distance away.
“Damn it.”
One of the stray bullets had blown a tire; the vehicle sat at an awkward tilt.
She cursed under her breath and broke into a run toward the distant ranch.
///
Drag, drag, drag…
I went to check on the driver just in case, and modern medicine still managed to surprise me. The man had taken a bullet yet was still breathing, blood loss aside. My aim hadn’t been off. Amy wasn’t to blame…
“Kill me…”
When I reached the dome where I’d been held, the man I’d been dragging muttered with fading headlights in his voice.
“Just… kill me…!”
Press. Press.
I was low on inner energy and wanted to conserve it, but leaving him conscious would only cause noise. I tried pressure-point strikes on his vital spots.
“Ghh…! Stop messing around and kill me…!”
……?
Press! Press!
Worried I’d held back too much, I struck harder this time.
“You son of a—!!”
My fingers throbbed like they might break. The man flopped like a fish hauled onto dry land.
Only then did I realize it wasn’t my technique that had failed. His excessive body modifications simply rendered pressure points useless.
Left with no choice, I dragged him toward the warehouse.
“…Ghh…!”
He looked ready to beat me to death, but without arms or legs he could only thrash.
“CarpKing, behave. Sorry about this, Jo.”
I asked the man to stay quiet and apologized to Jo, who was still slumped against the doorway like modern art.
Thud! Splat!
A wet sound came from behind. I turned to find CarpKing had knocked Jo over while struggling.
“Ugh, this is exhausting.”
Too tired to keep dragging him, I dropped the man onto a chair.
Crack! Crash!
“Aaaagh!!”
“Aaagh!! The chair!!”
The chair that had endured so much with me finally gave way under the weight of the man’s sins. What a cruel end.
I couldn’t help but scream at the sight of my old comrade’s tragic fate.
“…Huff… huff…! …What the hell happened here?”
Lena appeared, hat hanging from her neck, gasping for breath and staring blankly at the scene.
///
I’d left CarpKing alive with only his arms and legs removed, not out of any desire to torture him. I held no grudge worth that much effort; when I settle scores, I prefer to take payment in full with a life rather than leave loose ends.
So why hadn’t I finished him? I figured the townspeople or Lena might have something to say. And Lena’s message turned out to be very simple.
Bang!
So blunt and concise that I probably missed it. A shame.
We stepped outside to talk; the ranch didn’t smell much better. The stench of blood still lingered. Lena looked at me in disbelief.
“…How…?”
I almost wished she’d been holding a cigarette so she could drop it like in the comics.
“I cut them down. Ah, right. Thanks for the knife.”
I handed her the dagger, its handle roughly wiped clean.
……
She accepted it awkwardly and simply stared at me.
“What? If you’ve got something to say, say it. Staring like that just makes things awkward.”
“…No, it’s fine. Whoever you are, it doesn’t matter.”
……?
She looked like she had plenty to say, yet stayed silent.
“It’s just… surprising. How did you… with basically nothing but your bare hands…?”
“I told you. I’d show you some Eastern trickery.”
“…Trickery. …No, that’s not the point.”
She corrected me in a weary voice, shook her head as if to clear it, then looked at me again.
Pria stood a head taller than me. Lena stood a head shorter. Looking down instead of up felt oddly pleasant.
“The townspeople will probably say the same, but as the one who asked for help… thank you. Really… thank you.”
She bowed her head. Whether from embarrassment or force, her hat slipped off. I pretended not to notice and returned a proper fist-palm salute like a model citizen.
“Think nothing of it. I was paid for the job.”
……
Our eyes met as she lifted her head. For a moment her expression shifted, then she nodded in understanding. She definitely thought I was insane again.
“Well then, let’s head back to town.”
“Yeah. I’m beat.”
“You’ve earned it.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. Following her gaze, I noticed the bruises and scrapes peeking through my torn clothes.
“…Don’t say anything. It hurts more when I see it.”
“Sorry about that.”
She chuckled and pulled her hat back on.
Right on cue, dawn broke in the distance, lighting up the wasteland.
///
Afterward, with no working car, we walked back to town. The residents welcomed us with cheers. I wasn’t some chivalrous hero and had no intention of claiming to be one, but their hospitality wasn’t bad at all.
After a decent meal far better than the dry rations I’d eaten for days, I washed up and slept straight through the next day.
When I finally woke and stepped out wearing the loose jacket, shirt, and pants they’d lent me—my old clothes were soaked in blood and dust—Lena was waiting, cigarette between her lips.
“Sleep well?”
“…Seems like it. Everything hurts, but that just proves I’m still alive.”
She smiled crookedly at my joking reply and pointed to the chair across from her.
“Coffee?”
“…Coffee?”
“You don’t like coffee…?”
She gave me a strange look when I whipped my head toward her. Coffee… that guy who offered coffee… Get out of my head, Jo!
I shook the uneasy thought away and asked seriously.
“You’re not going out to brew it, are you?”
“…Can’t you see the coffee pot right there? It’s cheap instant, but still.”
“…Whew…”
Shaking her head as if she couldn’t understand me, Lena stood, poured two cups, and brought them over.
“Mrs. Robinson—the lady who fed you—left you a sandwich for when you woke up.”
She slid the sandwich across the table.
“They’re treating me well.”
“…Because nobody died thanks to you.”
I shrugged and took a bite. Cheap ham and cheese of unknown origin, but still better than that sand-like biscuit that sucked every drop of moisture from my mouth.
“So, I’m making your ID like I promised.”
“…Promised?”
“What should I call you? …Number 23?”
……
……
A cold silence fell between us—well, from me to her. I had gone completely still, expression serious.
“Wait. I don’t know what you misunderstood, but hold on. Rook called you 23.”
“…Ah, yeah, I did say that. Come to think of it, I had a cool line ready but forgot to say it.”
Actually, I might have said it. I couldn’t remember, but I probably dropped it once during the fight.
“What line…?”
“‘Are you the only ones who know I’m Number 23?’”
Right after that line came the part where I wiped everyone out.
“…So you already knew it wouldn’t work, huh?”
“Well, as long as you don’t go spreading it around, it should be fine. I don’t know.”
“…Haah… Seriously, one thing after another… I know nothing.”
She sighed and shook her head. I stuffed the rest of the sandwich into my mouth, took a sip of coffee, and asked,
“So, a name. You mean my name?”
“…Yeah.”
I thought for a moment. I did have a name I used to go by. My amnesia had only ever been an act. But suddenly I didn’t want to use it anymore.
…Everyone who used to call me by that name was dead. Maybe it was time to bury the name with them.
“23… 23… Isam… Isan.”
“…Sounds pretty slapped together.”
“Doesn’t matter. A name’s only as important as the people who call you by it.”
And since someone had just been calling me 23 until recently, reusing part of it didn’t feel so bad.
Beep.
She’d already prepared everything. She pulled out a fully loaded data chip and handed it to me.
“By the way, you don’t have a data socket, do you? When you get to the city, pick up one of those old-fashioned terminals the naturists use.”
“Everything’s old-fashioned.”
“If you hate it that much, get the surgery.”
I smirked and stood up. The conversation I’d had with the doctor yesterday surfaced in my mind.
‘You’ve got some burns.’
‘Burns?’
‘Didn’t notice? Not too bad, but the areas connected to your cyberware got singed.’
Even when circulating energy, the cyberware had already thrown my pathways off. Now I’d have to be careful using inner energy too. But I couldn’t afford to add more worries. Not unless I planned to give up martial arts entirely—and that was never going to happen.
“So, heading to Raze City now?”
“Yeah. Staying here would just mean stealing your work.”
“…I’d like to argue, but you might be right.”
She chuckled, grabbed her hat from the rack, and stood.
“Let’s go.”
With the townspeople’s warm send-off, we drove out into the wasteland. Watching the town shrink in the rearview mirror, I muttered,
Wells Town. Kind residents. No more gangs.