GunBarrel Gauntlet: The Last Bronze II

12. Friend or Foe?

"Help? They're more trouble than they're worth..." Shifting down gears, the truck decelerated, much like her tone of voice. "Get ready to shoot them, Liu and the mad one might have been taken as hostages; they're only bringin' them back to make a bargain."

Audrey rolled to a standstill, engine idling in apprehension as Tiny parked the escort car alongside them. From the console of the truck his voice asked:

"Mama, what's goin' on?"

"Trouble. Get ready to break away if the situation turns ugly." Carrion replied through the handset.

Nervous seconds passed as they sat and watched the approaching storm of vehicles spreading under the morning sun, the rumble of their many engines growing like a plague of insects.

* * *

As soon as the Enforcer had met their speed and was travelling beside them, Liu and the Nomad recognized the rider and passenger of the parallel bike as allies. It had been five years since their last meeting, but the Irishman hadn't aged a day in comparison to the Nomad's memories of those few fleeting days they had been forced to work together during the Lawless Times, dismantling a gang led by 'King Krome' to save a convoy of civilians from a forgotten city.

The Irishman was still wearing the shades of his dead mate, Bad Bruce; the road warrior that had sacrificed his machine and his life to help them all escape in those days long past.

Unsure of how much fuel was left in the stunt cycle, due to the missing gauges that had been stripped to decrease its weight, the Nomad would not dare to stop his current maximum speed lest he should burn the tank dry. Instead, he dipped his helmet in recognition and motioned for the riders on his Enforcer to overtake them and reach the safety of the truck waiting in the distance.

Reading the body language of his old friend from the past, the Irishman nodded once and accelerated around their position, taking a final glimpse of the one he called "The Bronze" in the rearview mirror as he whispered a prayer for them.

Leaving the Nomad and the girl behind as they continued to the south, it was not long before the sight of a truck shielded with improvised armour panels stood out against the bleak earth, a small sedan with a scorched bonnet parked beside it.

So the mad one had spoken the truth after all, the Irishman realized with thirsty excitement; there was a truck with haitch-two-oh, it wasn't a mirage.

Skidding to a halt before the rig, he raised his hands as the end of a rifle came out the window, aimed in his direction. Socky likewise waved his arms, speaking frenetically to whomever was waiting inside the truck's canopy.

"Easy now! I'm no Dog Soldier, Socky 'ere"- Irish motioned to the passenger at his back - "tells me you're in need of a Grease-Easy, that be me. I could see your rig limpin' from miles back."

"We only needed one mechanic... one Grease-Easy; why is there a small army following after you?" A woman's rough voice called out to them.

"They ain't followun me, sweetheart, they want me bloody hide! Yours too if we don't get movin' on outta here, real soon like."

"What about the other bike? The one with the girl on it?" A male voice asked from the truck's passenger window where the rifle was positioned at them.

"She a friend a' yours? They caught 'er in Dogtown and were about to feed her to tha mutts until me mate Bronze showed up. He escaped, jus' like we did. Listen, we ain't got much time to bargain."

"It's true!" Socky confirmed as he slipped the puppet back onto his left hand. "You can trust 'em, all they askin' for is a little haitch-two."

Inside the cabin, Carrion and Weary quickly debated the risks of taking the Irishman on board.

"He's right, we can't sit here any longer if we wanna try and outrun these ... 'Dog Soldiers'." Weary sighed.

"I dunno. What if it's a trap and they've come here to stab us in the back?" Carrion scowled.

"It doesn't look that way, from what I seen in the scope. And besides, you said earlier that Socky would know the wastelands, being a local. Well, we'd get more sense out of this other man; he hasn't been out baking in the sun for as long as Socky has."

"Dammit!" – Carrion picked up the handset to speak with Tiny – "You there Tiny? We're in trouble if you hadn't noticed. I want you to get out slowly and pat them down while we cover you. Remove anything they might use as a weapon."

"Ten-four, Mama." Tiny replied.

Exiting the Corolla cautiously, the giant they called 'Tiny' asked the pair to raise their arms as he approached with a cricket bat for a club. The pair complied, the puppet's face squeezing together at the mouth as though it had tasted something sour about their suspicious treatment.

Patting his hands quickly over their limbs and torso, Tiny removed all manner of bolts and spanners from the Irishman's inside pockets, including the screwdriver he had armed himself with to escape Dogtown.

"Nothin' but a few mechanic tools!" He called back to the truck.

"Hey now! That's me livelihood yur droppin' big man, I'm no use to yas without 'em."

"Alright, let him keep the tools." Carrion yelled from the cabin window. "The two of you! Join Tiny in the Corolla until we get through these Dog Soldiers."

"Oh no a won't, I'll be ridin' the bike... gotta return it to an ol' friend." The Irishman winked before crouching to recover the objects that had been loosened from his pockets.