Joe returned to consciousness to find himself on a relatively soft surface, at least, softer than the ground he last remembered lying on. His eyes opened, but they were dry, and he reached up to rub them. Pain in his left forearm and his right shoulder made him reconsider, and instead, he blinked the room into focus.
Seeing clearly added little detail to the sparse space. White walls bore no decorations; the only furniture in the room was a single bed. The room wasn't familiar. He tried to sit up, only to give up as he realized he lacked the strength and hurt all over. Instead, he gingerly pushed down the blanket to see that he was naked, which wasn't especially comforting. He checked his left thigh and found a bio-wrap around it. There were additional bio-wraps on his left arm, right shoulder, and left side.
So someone had saved his life. But why? Given his many enemies and few friends at the moment, he figured the most likely reason was to heal him enough to dump him back onto the Devil's Dance Floor.
"You're awake. I knew you were too hardheaded to die."
The owner of the voice stepped through the doorway. He was roughly Joe's height, and easily in as good shape as Joe—sans wounds—although his Asian features bore a few more wrinkles and a few more scars since the last time Joe had seen him, after the Shiprock War.
Joe smiled. "Kit Argall."
Kit stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. "Joe Ballast, the man who carries the weight of the world with him...and the foulest parts of it on his clothes. I washed them. Should've incinerated them."
Joe tapped the mattress. "And is this lumpy slab what you consider a mattress? The thing feels like it should've been put out of its misery before people moved into the silos. You still into that self-torture stuff?"
Kit's brow rose. "It's called frugality, and there's a lot to be said about being content with what I have. And is that your thank you for my saving your life? I see you haven't developed any manners since I last saw you."
"You saved me?" Joe said as he tried to remember.
"Of course I did, you idiot. If I hadn't shown up when I did, you wouldn't have lived another five minutes."
Joe sifted through his most recent memories. It took him a couple of seconds to remember the arrows and the blaster fire and...he gingerly reached up and felt his chin. "You punched me."
Kit's lips curved upward, almost into a smile. "I owed you that for leaving me hogtied in Nowhere Land."
Joe grinned, remembering better days. "You didn't seem so bothered at the time. In fact, I remember you were enjoying yourself."
"For the first ten minutes, maybe. I'll have you know that Susie left me tied like that for over two days." He held up two fingers. "That woman fed and watered me like I was a baby, and used me like I was her personal love slave. I won't even say what else she did, just that she was very creative."
Joe's smile faded. "I tried to reach out to you a few times after we left the Wilds. You never returned my calls."
Kit looked away before shrugging. "I guess I just needed to leave some things behind me and start fresh."
"I get that," Joe said. "There's been times I wished I could leave everything behind and start over, too."
Kit gave a knowing nod. "Yeah."
Joe eyed his caretaker. "You miss it, too? The war, the Ravens, all of that?"
Kit thought for a moment before sighing. "I miss almost all of it." Then he seemed to brush his thoughts away. "How'd you end up riding into the Salt Flats on a dilapidated bike with a leg that looks like someone went after you with an icepick?"
"It was a pitchfork," Joe clarified. "I picked up those wounds on the Devil's Dance Floor."
Kit frowned. "You went up against the mutants?"
"Believe me, I didn't go in by choice. Seems I got myself on the wrong side of a couple of MRC administrators."
"The Sloan brothers," Kit said, then shook his head. "I'm not surprised. I figured they held a grudge when they hired my guild to take down the Haft Agency."
"I figured you were in that Iron Guild convoy the day they attacked Haft," Joe said.
"I had a job that took longer than expected," he said. "Cat knows I have little interest in the political jobs she takes. I wasn't there the day Cat brought in the convoy, and I wasn't there when the Sloan army burned the place to the ground, either."
"What?" Joe asked.
"You didn't know?"
Joe shook his head.
"The Sloan brothers sent in their murcs to burn down the Haft Agency. It's gone, nothing left."
A chill settled over Joe, and he swallowed hard. "Did anyone survive?"
"From what I hear, Reuben Tally and one hunter are still unaccounted for. Cat extended an offer of employment to any remaining Haft hunters—at least, the ones her double-team lackeys hadn't brought over yet—and they gladly accepted to save their skin."
"Bolt and Tumbler," Joe said. "They were there the day Sloan came for me, and I figured they'd been working for Cat, since she jumps any time a Sloan is around."
"I didn't agree with her tactics—ambushing hunters and then giving them a join-or-die ultimatum. But that's always been her way. She's never been one for diplomacy. I think it's safe to say you're officially unemployed. Cat won't hire you if the Sloan brothers don't like you, not to mention she'd kill you personally if she knew you were a Raven."
Joe sneered. "I couldn't bring myself to work alongside you again, anyway." Then his features fell into a confused frown. "She doesn't know you're a Raven?"
Kit shook his head. "No, and if she finds out, I'll have a death sentence on my head, too. She thinks a Raven killed her brother during the Revolution, and she's had a personal vendetta against them ever since."
"Did a Raven kill her brother?" Joe asked.
"Yes. He was killed during Black Night." Kit didn't elaborate.
Joe inhaled deeply. Black Night had been the turning point in the war. The Revolution was a brutal civil war that would've continued for years longer if it hadn't been for the Ravens. They'd infiltrated Zenith State's central command and assassinated all its government leaders—and anyone else who got in their way—in a bloodbath that became known as Black Night. Joe and Kit had been there, along with every other Raven they'd served alongside.
Joe shrugged. "I've never kept it a secret that I'm a Raven. If Cat doesn't know, it's only because she's never seen me. I still wear the banner."
"Then you're a fool," Kit said. "Most folks may not recognize the banner anymore, but those who do tend to look upon us unfavorably."
"Let them." Joe eyed Kit. "You do still have the banner though, right?"
"Of course. Once a Raven..."
"A Raven evermore," both men said together.
Silence filled the room before Kit spoke again. "How did you get out of the Devil's Playground? I didn't think anyone left there alive."
"With a lot of luck and a little help from a local," Joe replied.
Kit blew out a breath. "And you drove all the way through Shiprock on an open-air bike?"
"Yep. And it was as much fun as it sounds. The trip took long enough to know all the lizards by first name." Joe thought for a moment. "There were two of us, but the other guy didn't make it."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Me too." Joe took in a breath. "I was heading up to find you. How did you find me first?"
"In classic Ballast fashion, you had luck on your side. From how you looked, I have no idea how you made it as far as you had." Kit chuckled dryly. "I'd just turned in a ticket and was heading home. I came across a road gang; it was just a pair of punks, really, and they were shooting at something. My curiosity got the best of me—I have no sympathy for road gangs—and I saw that they were, sure enough, trying to take down a weary traveler. You, in this case. The punks didn't even have the proper gear to be a road gang. No cutter, not even blasters, but I guess it didn't matter, given the shape you were in. Did you know that you were within five miles of the Iron Guild's headquarters? You're lucky five other hunters didn't come across you first. Wait, why were you coming to me?"
"You were the closest, and I need your help. You know what they say about a friend in need..."
"A friend in need is a schmuck," Kit answered.
"The friend I'm talking about in this case is Nick Swinton."
Kit sobered. "Nick's long-since buried, Joe."
"His wife and son are in trouble. They need our help."
Kit swallowed. "What's happened to them?"
Joe told him. Afterward, the pair sat in a long silence.
Kit sighed. "I'm in, but I'm doing this for Nick, not for you."
Joe winked. "I missed working with you too."