In a future where outposts swelter beneath a nuclear sun and run-gunners patrol dusty wastelands to protect against winged creatures known as devlars, Trin is the mech at the waystation in Arens. He has a thing for the gunners: rough men with strong hands and hard bodies, who roll through his garage like the hot desert wind. Gerrick’s the best gunner around, a quick draw with a deadly aim and a penchant for sharing his pallet with young men. He has a roving eye and roaming hands, and has left a string of broken hearts in his wake. Having heard the tales of Gerrick's bravery and seen the man in action for himself, Trin has fallen in love with the man he believes Gerrick to be, and he’s sure he can change the gunner’s mind if given the chance. Gerrick’s all he wants out of this blasted world, and he tells anyone who will listen. Then Gerrick rides through Arens. He’s heard the rumors of what Trin will do for a gunner who only mentions his name. What he wants to know is, what will Trin do for him?

Trin

For a long moment his brother gauges him, just staring, and Trin can’t meet his gaze. Instead he watches the way the soap squishes between his fingers. Turn on the water,he prays. Please Blain, just turn on the water and let me go. Don’t say anything else. God please don’t.


Finally Blain stands back and primes the pump once. Cold water splashes over Trin’s hands, washing away the soap and grime, icy and numbing on his skin like a headache. 


“Alright then,” Blain says, his voice low. His tight smile suggests he’s glad they had this talk but his eyes say different. When they look at him, Trin sees his brother’s worry written out in their dark depths. 


You’re wrong about him, he wants to say. You and Aissa both, dead wrong. At least, he hopesthey’re wrong. Gerrick didn’t talk much last night at all, did he? Didhe? Deep inside Trin, a tiny voice whispers, Please be wrong.He tamps it down quick, smothers it like a lick of flame, and it’s gone.


Chapter 15