Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Lara pulled the curtain open and stepped out of the tub, mindful of her footing this time.
Her skin was sensitive after the scrubbing she’d given it, tingling at the air’s gentle touch.
She tugged a soft cloth, which was like a too-small blanket, from a rail on the wall and wrapped it around herself to absorb the water from her skin.
From the corner of her eye, she saw something move.
She jumped, afraid Ronin had reentered, and nearly slipped again. But it had just been her reflection in the foggy glass over the wash basin.
A bit jumpy, Lara?
After allowing her heart to slow, she leaned closer to the mirror and wiped off some of the condensation with the end of the cloth.
The face looking back at her was both familiar and foreign.
She’d seen her reflection puddles and in the market’s murky windows growing up, and Tabitha had obtained a small mirror a few years ago that Lara had borrowed often, but the last time had been months ago…
and none of those had ever been as clear as this.
Her wet hair was several shades darker than normal, framing her heart-shaped face in a tangled mess.
Gently arched brows rested over her wide blue eyes.
She parted her lips as she ran the tip of a finger down the bridge of her narrow nose.
The hot water had pinkened her pale skin.
Her cheekbones and collarbones were more pronounced than she remembered, but that didn’t surprise her.
Food hadn’t exactly been plentiful lately.
It served as a reminder of her lingering hunger.
Lara trailed her fingertips from her nose to the tiny brown spots on her cheek. Freckles. They were sprinkled across her cheeks, nose, and arms, and were scattered over the rest of her body. During childhood, Tabitha had called them kisses from the sun.
Growing up, Lara had often been told she was beautiful. Other women used beauty to their advantage, flaunted it to feed themselves. That meant doing things Lara was unwilling to do, at least apart from the one time…which would never happen again.
With those painful, repulsive memories threatening to rise, she pressed her hands onto the counter. Her palms settled atop soft fabric. Looking down, she found the shirt Ronin had left. She picked up the garment and held it out in front of her. It looked huge.
Lara pulled it on, and surely enough, the hem fell to her knees.
But that didn’t matter. It was warm and dry, much better than her other options—putting her sopping wraps back on or going out there with nothing but the too-small blanket around her body, clutching its corners with one hand to ensure it remained in place.
After gathering her discarded clothes from the floor, she rinsed them thoroughly in the tub, wrung them out, and hung them over the curtain rod to dry.
Why did Ronin have all of this? Why did he need beds, running water, and toilets? She assumed he cleaned his outer skin, but that could be accomplished easily with a rag and a bucket of water, couldn’t it? And she was pretty sure bots never had to take a shit or piss.
After she finished, she picked up her knife and lighter, opened the door, and peered into the hall. Light seeped beneath the closed door at the far end. That had to be Ronin’s room.
Lara returned to her room, closing the door quietly behind her, and padded to the bed, where she slipped her knife beneath the pillow. There was no way she’d be sleeping without protection.
When she moved to the drawer case—dresser, she corrected herself—she set the lighter atop it and opened her bag.
Taking out the packages of food, she hurriedly opened one of them.
Plucking a potato wedge from within, she shoved the whole thing in her mouth.
It was cold and a little chewy, but it tasted heavenly.
She devoured five more pieces of potato, several mouthfuls of carrots, and two slices of smoked meat before she forced herself to stop.
“Oh my God,” she groaned, placing her hands on her stomach and closing her eyes. It hurt to be so full.
And it was amazing.
She was tempted to eat more, but she likely would’ve puked. After a lifetime of scant meals, she couldn’t stand the thought of being so wasteful, and Ronin had said the food was for tonight and the next morning anyway. She needed to save the rest.
Begrudgingly, Lara rewrapped what remained and set it aside.
To keep herself from thinking about food, Lara removed the treasures from her bag.
She stared at them for some time, considering the best way to arrange them in her new space.
Finally, she tossed her bag aside and set to work, moving some of the items several times before their placement seemed right.
She frowned when she lifted the picture frame.
Water had stained it, damaging the color in a few spots.
Just another thing on the verge of destruction.
It had truly become part of her world now.
She propped it up against the wall. The faces were undamaged, at least, and nothing that happened to the photo could change the joy it had captured.
Lara returned to the hallway. Ronin’s light was still on, and the door remained shut. They could work out the details of their deal another time. Eager to explore the house, she walked to the stairs and went down.
The only furniture in the main room was a low, long table with a sturdy wooden chair drawn up to it. A few hand tools lay scattered on the table’s surface, and there was a clamp of some kind attached to it on one side.
The wood floor was cold as she turned and padded through the wide opening opposite the front door. After a bit of searching, she found a light switch. The lights blinked to life to reveal another strange room.
To her right was another table, taller than the last, with four chairs positioned around it.
A white stone counter ran along the walls ahead and to her left, with another section standing free in the middle of the room.
She counted sixteen little doors beneath the counters and up on the walls.
Cabinets, her memory whispered, though she only had the vaguest recollection of an old woman who’d used the word when Lara was very young.
Curious, she walked to the counter and opened one of the doors. The cabinet was empty apart from the shelf inside. She checked a few more, finding nothing. So much space and nothing to show for it.
How much could a bot really need?
There was another wash basin set in the counter, with a window behind it instead of a mirror. Lara pushed the handle on the spigot up. Water poured out. No delay, no pumping, just instant water.
“Best not to waste it,” Ronin said.
Gasping, Lara spun around to find him standing at the entrance of the room, bare chested. Though his skin appeared to be one piece, portions of it were faintly different shades, reminding her of a patchwork blanket. It was…intriguing.
Really, Lara?
Forcing her eyes to remain on his, she reached back and shut of the water. “I probably wasted a lot already.”
“As much water as there is in Cheyenne, it’s still a limited resource.”
She spread her arms wide. “Why do you even need all this?”
“I don’t.”
“But you have it. Clean running water, electric lights. Beds. Toilets. This place must have ten separate rooms!”
“I have a secure location where I can clean my weapons and tend to my gear when I’m not in the Dust. Everything else is superfluous.”
“What does super…superfloo… What does that mean?”
“It means it’s unnecessary.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say that? Either way, it’s all running. In good shape. And it’s necessary for humans.” Lara swept her gaze around. There were more luxuries in this one room than she’d known throughout her entire life.
“I bring in scrap and sell it. I have nothing to do with keeping this place running except for providing some raw materials. Other bots handle the upkeep. They’re programmed to repair buildings, clean houses, cut grass, and keep appliances operational.
The Creators shaped them for those tasks, and they’ll perform them until they eventually break down. ”
“Is going into the Dust your purpose?” Her gaze dipped, moving along the line of his jaw to his thick neck.
“Is collecting trinkets yours?”
She met his eyes again. “My purpose is to survive. I don’t go out of my way for those things, they just happen to cross my path.”
“All paths in this world lead to dust. One way, or another.”
“You’re evading.”
The bots Lara had dealt with were always blunt and direct. Why was this one so different?
“What does it matter? I’m surviving, same as you,” Ronin said.
“Because I’m curious. You said there are bots made for only one purpose, and they know nothing else. But if you knew your purpose, you’d be doing it right now.”
“How do you know I’m not following my programming right now?”
Lara narrowed her eyes. “And what programming would that be?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Evading your line of questioning.”
She growled in frustration. “That is such a hu—”
Something on his abdomen caught her attention, and she snapped her mouth shut.
Almost everything about him screamed human male—his broad chest with its light brown nipples, his toned shoulders and arms, the sculpted ridges of his abdomen.
Like the synth dancers in Kitty’s, he lacked a belly button, but there were three holes in the skin of his belly. Metal gleamed through them.
“Are those…bullet holes?” Lara asked.
Ronin looked down. “I’m much better at dodging questions than I am other things, obviously.”
“That happen in the Dust?” Lara stepped around the central counter and approached him, focusing her attention on the wounds.
If they could even be called wounds.
“Yes,” he said, keeping his vibrant green eyes locked on her as she stopped in front of him and bent down to examine the holes.
The metal they exposed was intact but shiny, as though it had been freshly polished. Her brows fell. Could bots feel pain? Had Ronin felt pain?
Without thinking, she reached forward to touch the damaged skin.
No touching.
Lara stilled her hand before her fingers could make contact and straightened. She sure as hell wasn’t going to give him an excuse to break that part of their deal. “What’s out there?”
The muscles of his jaw bunched. She knew he didn’t actually have muscles, but what else was she supposed to call the parts that moved his face?
“The name says it all,” he said, watching her. “Not much of anything but dirt, lying over the top of the old world. If you’re willing to dig, there are things of value hidden all over.”
“How far have you gone? How many miles?”
“How high can you count?”
Lara glared at him.
“It’s a valid question,” he said.
“I’m not stupid.”
Ronin’s eyes narrowed. “Never said you were.”
“Damn near did.”
“What does a number tell you if—”
“I can count,” she snapped. “I can’t read, but I can fucking count.”
“To what? Thousands? Millions?”
“Just answer the damned question!” Her face heated. So what if she couldn’t count that high? He was probably just making up numbers to make her feel stupid.
“I’ve gone just about everywhere that isn’t blocked by water. Walked one million, two thousand, seven hundred and seventy-four miles.”
It was a bigger number than she’d ever heard, which only increased its enormity to Lara. Still, something stirred inside her, a dangerous feeling. Hope. If he’d truly gone so far, he’d seen other places. Other settlements.
She struggled to keep that hope contained. “It’s not all dust, right?”
“Most of it is,” Ronin replied, his expression softening. “Some places are better off than others. Cheyenne seems to have been spared the worst of it.”
So this was as good as it got?
As quickly as it had come, that hope dimmed. “Why just this place?”