novelraw Chapter 352: Say Please
Chapter 352: Say Please
Lachlan stayed on the ridge until the first Saint trucks rolled out.
Dust lifted in straight lines from the southern yard, then spread into a low sheet across the flats.
Engines were stacked in layers—two pickups with flamer rigs, one flatbed with a cage welded to its bed, six bikes fanning out in a staggered wedge.
The horn call had done its job.
Three long, one short.
South Gate moved like it had drilled the formation a hundred times.
He slid along the rock to a better angle and glassed the approach.
The false fuel line lay buried under crushed gravel and bent scrub.
Zubair had laced it tight, clean angles, clear run. Elias ran the tail, careful hands, tidy clamps. The leak shimmered as heat worked up through the topcoat.
A thin ribbon of vapor ran with the wind and vanished. From up here, it looked like nothing more than bad air.
His comm clicked twice and opened to Zubair. "Position two set. Wind holds east. Echo status."
Alexei’s voice came back flat. "North tower quiet. West cage line unstable. I am mobile."
Lachlan pressed his transmit. "Perimeter eyes on the South Gate. Column is six bikes, three trucks. Formation is smart. First flamer’s got new tanks."
"Copy," Zubair answered.
"Copy," Alexei added, already elsewhere.
Lachlan adjusted the rifle in his lap and watched the Hummer nose out from behind the burned cars below, just long enough to track its slow move east.
It disappeared again, right on cue. The old sting tightened behind his ribs.
They take and yet you just sit here and watch.
"I’m working," he said.
Working is not the same as belonging.
"Not now."
Always now. She breathes. You follow. That is the work. Whatever the other males say, it doesn’t matter. She breathes, you follow.
Lachlan shut his eyes just long enough to settle the heat behind them.
When he opened them, the first bike hit the start of the decoy run—one tire across the dusted seam, engine high, front end light.
The rider looked down for a blink, then back up. He didn’t see anything worth worrying about. The second and third bikes tucked in behind, reading his confidence, using his line.
Lachlan waited for the trucks.
The first flamer crawled up on big tires, bumper scarred, hose rack rebuilt from something that used to be a livestock gate. The gunner rode in the bed, mask on, both hands on the wand.
The tank’s pressure gauge rattled against its mount.
The pressure in Lachlan’s chest lifted to match. His fingers hummed. The metal at his hip answered with a faint, high whine that came and went like insect wings.
"Gate South column at two hundred," he reported. "Speed steady. Bikes set the line. Trucks sit on it."
"Understood," Zubair replied. No weight to it. Just motion.
"Detonator ready," Elias added. Crisp. Useful. Distant.
Lachlan watched heat bend over the gravel where the leak ran.
The seam narrowed under tire weight and opened again behind it. If they had walked it, they might have felt the slight give under the top layer. They didn’t walk anything. They drove.
Static flickered under his skin and crawled down to his knuckles. The air around him tasted like pennies.
You could light it yourself.
"Not my job."
Everything is your job if she needs it.
He rubbed his palm on his thigh until the buzz faded out to a tolerable hum.
He checked the sight lines again, then glanced down the ridge to the cluster where Zubair and Elias had staged under blown-out iron.
The Hummer’s hood was just visible beyond the heap. A corner of the windshield caught light and threw it at him for half a second before the angle changed.
His comm tapped twice. Sera came through clear. "Sera’s voice again, quieter this time. "Lachlan?"
He touched the comm. "Still here."
"Good. You sound... off."
"Just humming along."
"I can hear that," she said, almost smiling.
The line went dead, leaving warmth where her voice had been.
The thing in his chest rolled to that sound like a lion to a hand in its mane.
She spoke your name. You can breathe.
He grinned at nothing. "Roger that," he said to the dead air.
The channel was closed and no one could hear him. But he kept the grin because it was easier than letting it slip. He didn’t want people to know the dark thoughts in his head. He didn’t want anyone to see what he was becoming.
But the voice inside of him was getting stronger and stronger.
And it wasn’t exactly wrong.
Shaking his head, Lachlan pushed those thoughts to the side and returned his attention to was was going on around him.
Below, the wedge tightened as the bikes reached a choke in the road: two old fence lines pushing close with rocks piled to keep cattle in a world that didn’t have cattle anymore.
The riders didn’t care about history. They aimed their lines through like they always had, front to back, no imagination, no fear.
The flatbed rocked as its driver corrected late. The cage on its bed rattled. Something inside slammed bone and teeth against steel and went quiet again.
The first flamer’s gunner let the wand dip, rehearsing the angle he would use if a truck or Hummer blocked the lane ahead. He didn’t know the ground was wrong. He didn’t know the leak sat under the seam and waiting.
"Column at one hundred," Lachlan said. "Lead truck’s load is sloppy. Bike four is already fading."
"Copy," Zubair said. "Hold."
Lachlan’s hand cupped the comm. He wasn’t aware of the move until he felt the heat of his own breath on his fingers. He let go again.
He thinks calm is kindness. He has never heard you starve.
"Shut it," he muttered.
Say please and I will, his creature replied.
He huffed once and shifted to the next rock shelf for a cleaner shot at the flamer gunner in case it went bad. The rifle’s scope cut the distance to simple eyes and hands again.