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

Trin pushes through the screen door and almost gags on the heat. Dust and exhaust hang thick in the air. Out here the bells are louder, strident. The rapid fire of guns reverberates through the outpost, sounding for all the world like the cap pistols Trin used to play with as a boy. An engine growls within the palisade walls and a crowd rages somewhere nearby, noise rising from the people like static. Someone screams, a bright ribbon of pain in the falling dusk. On the path around the junkyard, Trin barely feels the gravel bite into his bare feet. The garage has never looked so far away.


As he steps up to the door, the bells stop abruptly. The last peal hangs in the air, suspended, like a meniscus over the outpost, threatening to burst. “What did Blain say?” Aissa whispers. Her nails scratch into his back as she grasps at him in fear. “As long as the bells ring, it’s not a devlar attack—”


Chapter 40