Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lara woke to rumbling in her stomach. Scowling, she pressed a hand to her belly. Just a little longer, then she’d get up and start her day. The scrap wasn’t going anywhere. She only needed a few more minutes away from the real world…
As she rolled onto her side to go back to sleep, she realized her normally hard, lumpy pallet was too soft and had a strange, clean smell.
She opened her eyes, squinting as the blurriness cleared from her vision. Sunlight filtered in through the window coverings, falling in thin lines over the shaggy floor and brightening the white walls.
Lara sat up with a start. The blanket fell to her lap as she gazed around the room that was most definitely not her shack.
There was her bag on the floor, and there was the dresser with her treasures arranged atop it. The door was closed and locked.
Her heartbeat slowed as she remembered where she was.
Ronin.
Flipping the blanket aside, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and walked to the window, delighting in how the fuzzy floor tickled her toes.
She moved the curtain, pushed down some of the plastic slats, and peered out.
The trees across the street swayed in the breeze.
She’d never known they could be so tall or have so many leaves.
Beyond them, the green grass stretched on and on into eternity.
Puddles on the road reflected the hazy sky. Most of the moisture must’ve dried up in the sun, which was already high and bright.
How late had she slept?
Her stomach twisted on itself, reminding her it was empty. After all she’d eaten the night before, how could she be so hungry?
She went to the dresser and finished off all the leftover food except a strip of dried meat. That, she wrapped up tight and put in the bottom drawer. Not the best hiding place, but it was better than nothing. Her next meal was never guaranteed.
Padding to the door, Lara pressed her ear to it and listened. There were no sounds from beyond.
Was Ronin up? Was he even home?
“Don’t be such a coward,” she muttered.
They had a bargain, and she couldn’t hide from him all day. Sooner or later, he’d come knocking, and she would have to pay up. Who was she to say he wouldn’t break down the door if she pulled that stunt again?
Unlocking the door, she cracked it open and peered into the hall. Ronin’s bedroom was open, but he was nowhere to be seen. She hurried into the toilet room and locked the door behind her.
After relieving herself and washing her hands, Lara studied her reflection in the mirror, frowning at her hair. It was a mess.
Since when do you care?
Lara frowned.
She usually didn’t. But right now, being in this house, standing in this pristine room, she felt wholly out of place.
Lara combed her fingers through her hair, taming the wayward strands and wincing as she tugged at the tangles, stopping only after she’d managed to make it look somewhat presentable.
Her clothing was still damp, so she left it hanging on the curtain rod. Ronin’s shirt would have to do for a while longer.
She slipped into the hallway and crept downstairs.
Ronin was sitting at the table in the main room, tools spread out before him, with her boot in one hand. Her boot, which had been cleaned of mud.
Her brow furrowed. Where had she left her boots last night? They were her most valuable possession, the first thing she put on every morning, and she always kept them close to her pallet. But today, she hadn’t even looked for them. Was she already going soft?
“What are you doing?” Lara asked as she reached the bottom step.
“Maintaining your gear.” He didn’t look up from the needle he was pulling through the sole of her boot.
“Maintaining my… Oh. Um, thanks.”
“Care for them properly, and things like this won’t happen.”
Lara clutched the banister as she narrowed her eyes. “It’s not like people go around teaching us how to fix boots and all that.”
“At some point”—the needle came back around, drawn through the thick sole as easily as if it were paper—“there was a pair of these that were the first. Nobody told their owner how to take care of them. That person had to learn on their own.”
“I don’t need you already busting my—” She snapped her mouth shut and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Look, I don’t want to fight again, okay?”
When Lara opened her eyes, he was looking at her. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but there seemed to be a little I wasn’t the one fighting in it, and that sent a rush of irritation through her that she quickly quelled.
“Sleep all right?” Ronin asked, looking back at the boot. His hands continued their sure movements, each stitch identical to the last.
“I slept late. Didn’t you say you were leaving today?”
“You didn’t seem too keen on me going. Figured you’d be more comfortable if you weren’t alone when you woke up. I know it can take some time to get acclimated to a new environment.”
“That was…thoughtful of you.” Lara didn’t know what to make of this. She was still reeling from his apology the night before, and now he was taking her feelings into account? “Does it take you time to get used to new places?”
Ronin shifted the boot to a different angle. She was amazed at how nimble and precise his metal fingers were.
He again pressed the needle through the sole. “Yes. Every place has its own leaders, its own rules. Scrap that’s valuable in one town is worthless in another. And it’s constantly changing. It always takes time to learn all that again.”
Reluctantly, Lara stepped off the soft flooring of the stairs and onto the cold maybe-wood of the main room. “I’m not even strong enough to do what you’re doing now.”
“It’s not about how much strength you have, but knowing how much to use.” He tied off and cut the thick thread, placed the boot on the table, and turned in the chair to face her.
“What?” Maybe she should’ve cut him some slack for not understanding her emotions—she couldn’t understand what he was talking about half the time.
“The application of strength is more important than the amount of it. It’s just as easy to use too much as it is to use too little, and that often leads to unintended consequences.
” He dipped a hand into his pocket and removed a small piece of plastic with little metal dots and lines on it. “Pinch this between your fingers.”
She arched a skeptical brow at him as she took it, edges between pointer finger and thumb, and pinched. It was harder than it looked. “Still not getting it.”
“Squeeze. Hard as you can.”
Lara did as he said. The plastic didn’t buckle at all. Instead, it dug painfully into her fingertips. When he took it back from her, she was all too happy to be rid of it; her fingers throbbed and there were deep indents in her skin.
“Don’t see what that proves,” she said, rubbing the sting away.
Ronin grasped the plastic the same way she had, holding it up where she could see. Without any apparent effort, his finger and thumb came together, snapping the plastic in half.
She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip. “Yeah, you’re stronger than me. Already knew that, didn’t we?”
“That’s not the point, Lara. You must exert a conscious effort to apply all your strength.
I must do the same to apply only a small portion of it.
That necessitates significant processing resources being constantly devoted to my sensory inputs.
It can be just as difficult for me not to break something as it is for you to break it. ”
The warmth drained from Lara’s face as she stared at the broken pieces of plastic between Ronin’s fingers.
Prickling ice formed in her veins, and her chest grew tight, making it hard to breathe.
She understood the lesson now, and it called up dark memories of violence and pain, producing phantom aches in her limbs.
Her breakfast churned in her gut.
She sprinted through the opening into the other room, stumbled around the central counter, and bent over the wash basin. Her stomach heaved, emptying itself. She retched again, but there was nothing left to come up, making it all the more miserable.
Trembling, Lara clutched the countertop.
That fucking thing!
The bot that still haunted her nightmares had known what it was doing to her. The strength of its grip had been deliberate, every bruise intentional, and the damage to her shoulder had been only a taste of the bastard’s full power. She’d been in pain for weeks because that’s what it had wanted.
Ronin’s boots thumped across the floor. He stopped somewhere behind her.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped without lifting her head. She spat sour-tasting saliva into the basin.
“Are you ill?”
“I’m fine.” Lip curling at the stench of her own vomit, she turned on the water and washed out the basin.
“Appearances suggest otherwise.” Ronin moved closer and placed a hand on the counter to her right, keeping a few feet between them. “Your face is paler than usual.”
“I said I’m fine.” She cupped her hands beneath the flowing water and rinsed her mouth.
After she spat out of the water, Lara wiped her lips with the back of her hand, shut off the spigot, and straightened, turning to face him. A cramp seized her stomach, but she clenched her jaw and rode it out.
So much for the food I ate.
“Thanks for fixing my boot,” she said quietly.
He maintained his silent stare long enough for her skin to itch beneath it. Gripping the hem of the shirt at her thighs, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again, waiting for him to say something, to say anything.
But he didn’t.
“I said I was fine, damn it!” She marched back into the main room and snatched up her boots.
“You told me bots always say what they mean. Is it the opposite for humans?”
Lara faced Ronin, holding her boots to her chest. He stood in the entryway between the two rooms, watching her. There should’ve been judgment in his words, but she’d heard only curiosity.
Can’t he at least make it easy to be pissed off at him?
“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” Lara asked as calmly as she could.
The thought of being here alone wasn’t appealing, but she couldn’t take any more reminders of what had happened to her right now.
Not while she knew those things were all around.
Ronin would just keep probing, and it would get her worked up, but damn if she didn’t want to believe his concern. It seemed genuine.
But from a bot, it couldn’t be…
Could it?
Ronin frowned, brow creasing. “I can wait if you’re unwell.”
“If I have to tell you I’m fine one more time, I’m gonna scream.”
He didn’t respond for a long while. Maybe screaming until her throat was raw would make her feel better…
“I’ll get back as quickly as I can,” he finally said. “Is there anything particular you need, apart from the necessities?”
“If you need something, it is a necessity.” The swelling of pride at her own wit dulled the edge on her mood a little.
“You are correct.” One corner of his mouth lifted. Ronin took his coat off the back of the chair and pulled it on, his metal fingers demonstrating their dexterity as he buttoned it. “Lock the door behind me.”
He picked up his backpack and rifle, slinging them over his shoulders as he moved toward the front entrance.
“Wait!” Lara called as his hand settled on the knob.
Ronin looked over his shoulder.
“My sister, Tabitha. You said you’d look for her.”
He nodded.
Brow creased, she hesitantly stepped toward him. “You don’t even know what she looks like.”
Again, that silent stare. Lara’s mouth went dry. Was it because of the way he looked at her, or because she missed her sister?
“She’s about this tall,” Lara said, holding her hand a few inches over her head, “with short black hair, brown eyes, and darker skin than mine. And, uh…a little…curvier than me.” Especially if all was well and Tabitha was being fed by a bot.
“Has a nasty scar on the back of her left hand. She dances…used to dance. At Kitty’s. ”
If anything about that description was familiar to him, he made no sign of it. Her hope dwindled.
“When did you last see her?” Ronin asked.
“A couple months ago.” Lara dropped her gaze to the floor, trying to pull up Tabitha’s face from her memory. Why was it so hard? “She snuck a visit to our shack to tell me she was okay, that she was being kept by a bot.”
“Isn’t it likely she’s still with that bot, then?”
“Yes, but…I don’t know where, and I haven’t heard from her since. I’m worried about her.” She met his eyes. “I miss her, and I just want to know she’s all right.”
Was he capable of sympathy?
No, he was only doing this because it was a condition of their deal.
I don’t need his sympathy. Just his help.
“I’ll ask around, if I can,” Ronin said, “but don’t expect anything right away. The gearheads and their leader don’t seem to care much for curiosity around town.”
Lara pressed her lips together and nodded. He’d agreed to try. That was all she could ask, and it would have to be enough.
“Lock the door, Lara,” he said softly, and then he was gone.
She stared at the closed door for a time, and then, finally, stepped forward and locked it. Pressing her forehead against its cool face, she smirked.
He called them gearheads.
For some reason, it reminded her of the night before, when he’d spoken to the gearheads at the gate.
There is an agreement in place.
She knew those words had been meant for her—to put her at ease.
Perhaps Ronin was the one bot she might eventually be able to trust.