“We’ll come back for him,” Jude says, following my gaze. “With some luck, Margaret will be able to patch him up.”
I nod.
We drive away from the ruins of the Hoover Dam, the roars of the fighting old gods echoing over the wastelands.
My arm has its own heartbeat. The bones have been broken by Maeve in a few different places. Once we’re at a safe distance from the dam, Jude parks in the ruins of a small town.
“We need to set your arm,” he says to me. “It’ll hurt less if it’s set right. Also, from what I’ve seen of your healing speed, they might already be mending wrong.”
I nod.
Jude digs into the wooden chest at the back of the buggy. He announces that we have food, water, and extra fuel. And, surprisingly, pain medication. TheHighwaymenmust have stolen them from traveling merchants.
He offers me water in a dented mug and a tablet. I stare at it in the center of his palm with a strange mixture of affection and wonder. Two weeks ago, he used to ram them down my throat.
“How far we’ve come,” Jude whispers, watching me.
There’s a fond smile on his face and a blush that might not come from the sun.
I lean forward and kiss him. He slides a hand into my sweaty hair and pulls, dragging a growl out of me. My broken arm stops me from pulling him over my lap, and I have to be content with my good hand on his ass.
“It looks like you’re at my mercy again,” he says close to my lips.
“It looks like it. Take good care of me, master.”
He shudders and bites my bottom lip.
I swallow a scream as he sets my arm and puts it in a splint. But the tender way he soothes my pain with a hand on my brow makes it all worth it. I would break my arm over and over again just to have him touch me with such care and affection. I’ve been starving for touch for years. He’s offering a gulp of fresh water after crossing the desert.
We drive for a few hours until we reachGears and Giggles. Margaret welcomes us with a gun carelessly hanging over her shoulder and a frown.
“I’ve heard some strange tales,” she says. “Something about a mutant killing another one with his pet, Quetzalcoatl.”
Jude laughs. “I wish it was that cool. But we almost got our asses handed to us by two angry old gods. Sorry to bother you again, but we need time to heal and have nowhere else to go. TheFireflycrashed.”
Margaret watches us as Jude helps me out of the buggy. “You know you’re always welcome here, Jude. And, apparently, you too,” she says, giving us a pointed look. Jude’s hand rests on my lower back.
Jess takes care of our wounds as we tell them our story. The two women are happy that we put an end to Maeve’s rising tyranny. Without a leader, theHighwaymenhave scattered to the wind. They send a signal to their son to warn the Traveling Market and its king that the mutant queen has been killed and her minions are ripe for the picking. They make sure to talk about Jude’s involvement. With some luck, the King will let bygones be bygones.
They let us stay for two weeks while my arm heals. They give us the bus to sleep in at night. Meanwhile, we help them as best as we can to earn our keep. As it turns out, I’m a valuable asset for mechanics. I can recharge batteries and feel whether a circuit is in working order or not. Jude is also very skilled with his hands. He grew up working on his parents’ cars and trucks.
I’ve come to love the two women. They treat me like an overgrown teenager and not a powerful mutant. On the first days, their teasing and orders used to raise my hackles. But Jude was there to put me in my place in his usual manner, with seduction and threats.
It’s still a learning process for me to become a decent person. I doubt I’ll ever excel at it, but I’m willing to try.
In the third week, we scout the wastelands around the Hoover Dam. We find no trace of Quetzalcoatl in the sky. The old god must have moved on to more lush parts of North America. And from the radio signals we intercepted, Altamaha-ha has followed the river farther south to lick his wounds.
TheHighwaymenhave not returned to the dam, now a wet ruin. But theFireflyis still hanging from the mountainside.
As we reach the cockpit, Fyfe opens the door and welcomes us with “Hello, Mr. President. Mr. Vice President. I’m afraid I’m out of order.”
“It’s okay, Fyfe. We’ll patch you up. You’ll fly again,” says Jude.
It’s the first time he hasn’t called him Dumdumb.
16
Rehabilitation therapy.
