Wall: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (The Traveler Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

and plucked it from his dry lips. He used it as a pointer as he spoke. “That’s why I knocked on your door so early,” he explained. “I wanted to let you know we’re ahead of schedule. I’ve got grunts and bosses heading toward the canyon from all over. San Antonio’s men are already on their way. We could move on the canyon in a day and a half, maybe two days tops. We’ll end the Dwellers once and for all.”
    “Good,” said General Roof, “make it happen.”
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    OCTOBER 25, 2037, 11:45 AM
    SCOURGE +5 YEARS
    PALO DURO CANYON, TEXAS
     
    Battle stopped short of the garden. He leaned against a cottonwood tree. Lola plucked cucumbers from their vines, dropping them into a basket she had cradled in the crook of her elbow.
    The overnight storm had passed, leaving behind clear skies and an intermittent breeze that curled through the valley. Battle shivered against the chill and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was impressed with the garden. It was maybe a quarter acre in size and irrigated with PVC pipe and drip hoses that ran from a metal cistern at the edge of the plot. The rain from the night before was a bounty.
    Fall plantings were ready for harvest, and Lola had volunteered to help. She was working with three other Dwellers combing through the vines and stalks. Sawyer trailed behind her, looking for cucumbers she might have missed.
    There was a brightness, a sparkle even, in her eyes Battle had never seen. She seemed happy. Her limp was gone, her red hair soaked up the bright overhead sunlight. Battle’s eyes were magnetically drawn to her.
    “You should tell her what you’re thinking,” Sylvia’s voice whispered. “It would be good for you.”
    Battle closed his eyes and inhaled. “I’m not telling her anything,” he told the voice in his head. He set his jaw; his shoulders tensed.
    Sylvia wouldn’t relent. “I’ve told you,” she said, her voice filling Battle’s head. “You need someone. You’ll lose yourself otherwise.”
    “I’ve already lost myself. I killed an unarmed man for no good reason last night. I’m not praying. My faith…”
    “My faith in you is as strong as it’s ever been,” Sylvia said, and another voice joined the conversation.
    “Mine too.” It was Wesson. “Dad,” he said, “she’s got a son. He needs a man like you to help him. He doesn’t have a dad to show him things.”
    Battle shivered again. It wasn’t the breeze running through him. It was his son’s voice, as clear as if Wes were standing in front of him with his tiny arms wrapped around his legs. Battle could smell the baby shampoo in the wind.
    His lips curled into an unexpected smile as he thought about Sylvia’s insistence that Wes use baby shampoo even after he’d protested that it was for babies. She’d explained it was healthier than other chemical-laden shampoos. Both Wes and Marcus had known it was really because it was the only way she could hold on to the vestiges of their only child’s infancy.
    Battle chuckled and leaned into the cottonwood with his shoulder, his eyes focused on some nebulous distance. “You hated that shampoo,” he said. “It did smell good, though.”
    A third voice entered the internal conversation. “Battle?” It was a woman’s voice. “Battle? Are you okay?”
    Battle shook his head into reality. Lola was standing inches from him, her eyes narrowed with concern.
    He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah,” he said, blinking Lola into focus. “I’m fine. Why?” He stood up straight and folded his arms across his chest.
    Lola took a half step toward him and switched the basket from one arm to the other. “You were doing that thing again,” she said softly. “You were in another world, talking to yourself.”
    Battle looked at his boots. They were caked with the red mud of the canyon floor. His face flushed. He flinched at Lola’s touch as she put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently.
    “It’s okay,” she said. “It doesn’t