Part 4

  With Lucy’s departure the tiny one room apartment was suddenly very quiet and lonely. Carlo hadn’t realized how much he was enjoying the company of another person until she’d gone.

  He sat up and leaned back against the wall. He took a deep breath and his mind wandered. He thought about the kind old lady who had saved his life and about his travels through the desert.

  Finally his thoughts settled on the dead man at the pinnacle. Who was he? Was he one of these Jedi that his host revered? Was he a sky traveler, as he’d suspected before? Or was he just some random desert traveler?

  Was he gifted with the power from the Force that Lucy’s grandmother had worshipped?

  Slowly and then with what felt like increasing speed Carlo felt the floor drop away from him. He felt himself floating, which both thrilled and frightened him all at once.

  His eyes snapped open. Carlo found himself standing in the center of his home village. It was all as he remembered. The low, thatched domes that served as their homes were scattered about him. Several villagers attended the cook fires nearby, the thin white smoke rising gently into the sky. It was all so joyful and comfortable.

  But at the same time, it wasn’t right. No sound filled his ears. The villagers were speaking but while he could see their mouths moving, no sound reached his ears. The fire burned and the meat was cooking but no smell reached his nostrils. There was something else wrong. Everything was slow, as if time itself was not passing at the proper speed. The villagers’ movements were slow. The birds flying overhead were moving too slow, the flapping of their wings was sluggish.

  Carlo’s stomach tightened. This was too familiar.

  Then he saw the cart as he had before, out of control, barrelling toward the young boy. The boy’s face was a mask of fear, his expressions slow like the other villagers’ movements and the birds’ flight.

  A terrible, stomach wrenching familiarity with the scene unfolding in front of him caused his heart to race. Carlo tried to cry out but still there was no sound. He was as silent as the rest of his surroundings.

  Carlo tried to spring forward but his movements were also slowed as if he was stuck in amber. It didn’t matter anyway. This was happening just as it happened before. He knew that he was too far away.

  The slow motion scene continued. The wagon hit the same rock as it had before and twisted as it went airborne. It was so close to the child that it seemed like the boy could reach out and touch it. It was moving so slowly and gently in its slow motion that it seemed as if the boy could just push it away.

  Carlo, reaching his hand out, saw it happening just like before. Too far. He was too far away.

  But no. There was something. It was there again. Carlo could see the distance but it didn’t feel like distance. Instinct took over. A strange unfamiliar and yet comfortable feeling took hold. He pulled. Just like before. He pulled. And again, as before, the child left the ground and sailed out of harm’s way into Carlo’s waiting arms.

  The exultation melted into a cold, sinking dread.

  Carlo waited for the woman to scream. He knew that was the next thing coming.

  “Master Carlo?”

  Carlo lifted his gaze. The mechanical man VP16 stood in the midst of the chaotic scene.

  Carlo shook his head trying to make sense of it. The droid didn’t belong there.

  Suddenly the rest of the scene melted away, replaced by the old woman’s living space surrounding both Carlo and VP16.

  Carlo could hear sounds again. The faint dripping of the water faucet that had not been closed tightly and the whistling of the breeze outside reached his ears.

  The droid repeated, “Master Carlo? Are you well?”

  Carlo swallowed. He noticed his breathing was rapid and he could feel the palpitations of his heart. But he was ok.

  “I’m fine. I’m ok.”

  The droid nodded stiffly. “Do you require anything? May I get you some food? It is nearly midday.”

  “Midday?”

  *****

  When Lucy returned to the community and her apartment the sun was already low in the sky. A warm breeze blew in from the desert leaving a fine dust hanging in the air.

  Lucy stepped inside her apartment carrying a pair of bottles containing rehydration solution and found Carlo sitting up in one of the two chairs next to the tiny table in the corner.

  He immediately took notice of the old woman’s entry. His rise to his feet was somewhat unsteady but he managed it without assistance.

  Lucy reached his side, set the bottles on the table, and helped him back into the chair. “You seem a little better. How do you feel?”

  “I am better. But I’m still a bit shaky. Thank you for your help and your hospitality. It’s very much more than one could expect.” Carlo responded.

  “Think nothing of it.” Lucy opened one of the RH bottles and handed it to Carlo. “Drink,” she instructed.

  He held up the bottle, “What’s this?”

  “Medicine. It has electrolytes as well as water. Doesn’t taste all that good but it’ll help you recover. Did VP come by?”

  Carlo nodded and took a long pull on the RH bottle. “The mechanical man was here about midday. He gave me food.”

  Lucy smiled. Carlo’s experience with droids was clearly limited. “That’s his function. He’s like a caretaker here.”

  “Caretaker?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That’s right. He helps the residents with their meals and their daily needs. Not all are as spry as I am.”Lucy said.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, “Spry?”

  “Oh, of course,” Lucy nodded. “This community is for old folks. Most of them are too old or sick to work. The town set aside these apartments for us.”

  “You can’t stay with your families,” Carlo asked before taking another drink of the RH.

  Lucy shook her head. “Most of us have none.”

  “You still work?”

  Lucy nodded again. “At the mercantile. It’s not hard work but the hours are long and the pay is not the same as if I was working in the mine. Most of my pay goes to food and other necessities for the community. Most have no money and would likely starve.” She sighed heavily. “The real sad part is that most everyone here used to work in the mine. The company used them up and cast them aside.”

  Carlo stayed silent.

  Lucy smiled wryly, “That’s even where VP16 came from. He broke down and they tossed him on the scrap heap. We found him there and repaired him.”

  Carlo frowned.

  Lucy laughed. “Look at me, rambling on like that.” She patted Carlo on the arm. “You wait here, I’ve got to attend to the garden and then we’ll have some supper. Finish off that RH. ”

  Lucy returned after a few minutes with a couple of peppers. She immediately set to work in the tiny kitchen fixing some broth for the two of them.

  Lucy placed the bowl in front of him and Carlo murmured a word of thanks. He felt poorly about taking advantage of her hospitality when it was now clear to him that she and her neighbors got by on very little. But as a matter of practicality he knew that in his weakened state he was of little use to himself let alone an entire community of elders.

  When he finished his broth, Carlo got up, slowly, and took his bowl to the kitchen.

  Lucy, guessing his intentions, got up after him and took the bowl from his hands. “It’s ok. You rest.”

  “I feel a little. . .,” he trailed off.

  “Ashamed?”

  Carlo nodded.

  Lucy ushered him back to his chair at the table. “You have been through an ordeal. You get better. Finish that second bottle of RH. Then we’ll talk about you helping out.”

  *****

  As Dawn broke the next morning Carlo stepped out of Lucy’s tiny apartment. He squinted and held a hand up to shade his eyes as he surveyed the small complex that made up the community.

  It was already warm and dry, being on the edge of the sand certainly made the location less than desirable.

  Moments later VP16 stepped out into the center space, “Master Carlo! How are you feeling today?”

  He walked into the square toward the droid. “Better today.” He glanced around the complex. “What are you doing this morning?”

  The droid tilted his head slightly. “Ah!” He pointed to one of the apartments across the way. “I’m on my way to make breakfast for Master Walt.”

  Carlo shifted his feet in a nervous manner. “Can I come with you? I mean. . .uh. . . if I wouldn’t be in the way?”

  VP16 cocked his head the other way. It was a poor attempt to approximate human behavior. “I don’t think Master Walt would mind.”

  Carlo followed, about a step behind the droid. When they approached the door to their destination, VP16 rapped his metal fingers on the door and called, “Master Walt?”

  A gravelly voice responded after a moment’s wait, “Come on in ya clanker.”

  VP16 and Carlo entered the dark room. It had a musty smell and the temperature was about the same as outside. An air conditioning unit sat idle across the room in the space where the kitchen would be in Lucy’s apartment.

  The single bed was occupied by the owner of the gravelly voice. He was a grizzled, old man with a long, gray beard. He was balding and what was left of his hair fell about his shoulders in gnarled tangles. He was seated at the bedside and as the companions entered, he shuffled himself into a waiting hovering chair. He had to reach down and move his legs over by picking up his pant legs before looking up at his two visitors.

  The old man coughed and then spat a wad of sputum on the floor. “You’re late,” he snarled at VP16.

  Unnerved by the man’s behavior, VP16 replied, “It is the same time I arrive everyday, Master Walt.”

  The old man harrumphed, “Just means yer always late, clanker.” He pressed a control on the arm of the chair and it moved forward to the middle of the room. He coughed again and glared at Carlo. “And who the hell are you?”

  VP16 answered for him, “This is Master Carlo. He’s a guest of Mistress Lucy. Please have some respect.” The droid gestured from Carlo to the old man, ”Master Carlo, this is Master Walt.”

  Carlo nodded to the old man. “Sir.”

  Walt squinted in Carlo’s direction. “Shut the door.” He spun the chair toward the droid. “Where’s breakfast?”

  Carlo closed the door behind them and VP16 stepped to a tiny counter next to the air conditioning unit. “Breakfast will be ready shortly, Master.”

  The droid began to prepare a bowl of broth. Was that all they ate here?, Carlo wondered.

  “My boots.” Walt said suddenly.

  “Huh?” Carlo said, with mild confusion.

  “You deaf?” The old man raised his voice. “My boots!” He pointed repeatedly at the corner of the room to a pair of shabby boots.

  VP16 responded first, “I’ll help you with your boots when I finish your breakfast, Master.”

  Carlo retrieved the dusty boots from the corner, “it’s ok. I’ll do it.”

  Carlo busied himself placing the boots on the old man’s feet.

  “Thank you, Master Carlo,” the droid said as he brought the broth over and handed it to Walt.

  His task completed, Carlo stood up straight, “No problem.”

  Walt swiped the bowl from the droid and looked down at his feet, he adjusted his right leg by picking up the pant leg but was apparently satisfied that the boots were in their proper place. He turned his attention to the broth, plucked the spoon out of the bowl and dropped it on the floor. Both hands lifted the bowl as if offering a toast. “Yer health, gentlemen,” he snarled sarcastically. He touched the bowl to his lips and slurped loudly.

  VP16 stooped, picking up the spoon and moved back to the counter where he used a greasy rag to wipe it off.

  Walt drained the bowl dry and —without an apparent second thought— dropped it on the floor as he had the spoon.

  VP16 made a mechanical noise that sounded very much like an annoyed snort before retrieving the bowl.

  The old man ignored the droid and turned his attention to Carlo. “So, yer stayin’ with Lucy, eh?”

  “I am.”

  “Sit,” the old man commanded, pointing at the bed. “Where’d you come from?” he demanded as Carlo complied.

  “From a village north of here, across the sand.”

  “North? Ain’t nothing north of here but wastes and savages.” Walt seemed to consider his own statement. “Hot damn! You’re a savage?” He laughed and rapped a fist on VP16’s back. “Just like your stupid ass to bring a savage in here!”

  Carlo was shocked and momentarily struck dumb.

  The old man laughed again seeing his discomfort. “It’s ok, lad. Everyone’s from somewhere. Does this place look like Canto Bight?” he said with a wide gesture. “We’re all savages here.” His laugh devolved into a coughing fit that seemed to take his breath away.

  Carlo leaned toward him, concerned.

  Walt waved him off, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Worked in the mine for too many years. Damn dust got in my lungs. Gonna kill me sooner or later,” he explained between breaths. “What made you want to cross the desert?

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” Carlo answered.

  Walt laughed again. “You hear that, clanker? This man’s got a past!” He stared intently at Carlo. “Secrets too, I’d wager!”

  Carlo’s eyes widened.

  Walt leaned forward, “Don't worry, lad. Everyone in this town has secrets.” The conversation was again interrupted by a short coughing fit. “What did you do in your village?”

  Carlo looked confused, “Do?”

  “For work, lad,” the old man clarified.

  “I was a hunter. A tracker.”

  It was the old man’s turn to have wide eyes. “A hunter?” A wolfish smile spread over his face. “A hunter.” He backed his chair up, deliberately knocking into VP16. “Did you hear that, clanker? He’s a hunter!” Walt leaned toward his younger guest, “You feeling like doin’ some huntin’?”

  Carlo nodded slowly, not sure where this conversation was going.

  Walt whooped as his hands shot into the air, “Let’s get some meat!” He gestured almost frantically at Carlo, “Get up, get up.”

  Carlo complied and Walt pointed at the bed, “The mattress, lift it up.”

  He turned toward the bed and lifted the mattress, tilting it toward the wall. Hidden underneath was a long rifle, nearly as long as the bed itself. It was clearly old, the wood of the stock was dried and cracked. Tiny spots of rust marred its metal finish.

  Carlo picked it up and set the mattress down. He’d heard about these slugthrowers. His father had even seen one once, at least that’s what he’d been told.

  Walt pointed at the cupboard under the counter, “VP16, in there. There’s a box of ammo.”

  A moment later the box was handed to the old man. He looked at Carlo. “Let’s show you how that thing works. Then we get you a ride to the mountain.”