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As the first lights shined down upon the vast expanse of the Sonora desert, Billy looked to the east expectantly. Nothing, nothing except sand and some radscorpions searching for the next foolish vault dweller to come wander around. Roads were dangerous enough, and with the words of Legion on the move towards Puerto Penasco, people were already making the exodus towards the Rapids, and beyond to New California.
“I know you’re there, Sebastian.” Billy had a cold voice. “Old as I may be, you can not fool a ranger.”
“Once a ranger, always a ranger eh old man?” Sebastian chuckled. “You shouldn’t be sneaking out like that. Especially with Vulpes and his goddamned frumentarii skulking about.” He put his bag down.
“So you took the liberty to follow me here?”
“People are confused, amigo. Some say you’re colluding with the Legion. Meeting a legion spy here.”
Billy looked at him with a stare that showed the small amount of betrayal he felt. “Are you?”
“No, I told them they weren’t making any sense but you know how it is these days. Legion’s reputation moves before they even brandish their swords.”
“Worry not for me, Sebastian. Are you making the voyage across the river?”
“I have a family, Billy. My dau-”
Billy waved his hand, as if he wanted him to stop explaining. There was no need to explain.
“But Maria. Well she did not want to leave. She thinks she can help with the wounded.”
“I need Puerto Penasco emptied, Sebastian. Tell that idiot Ricardo to stop it with the machismo.”
“You know he won’t, Billy. Not many are wise in their twenties.”
“Put a gun to his head and drag him to the boats, then. Let him be brave across the river.”
“He wo-” Sebastian tried to interject.
“Now, leave me be. I survived opening up a vault full of deranged vault dwellers. Nothing's ever going to happen in this shitty shack.”
Sebastian quickly took his bag from the ground and left the way he came. Quiet. Not quiet enough to get past him, or a quick frumentarii but it’s not like Legion is known for its quiet nature.
Not long after Sebastian left a figure appeared on the horizon. Unadorned. Towering. As the man came closer and closer.
Billy held his arms out. “You are late, cowboy.”
The man seemed amused. “No, I am not profligate.” He took a small bottle out of his pocket. “Peace?”
Billy looked at the bottle. Pre-war. Four States Commonwealth. “Which unlucky vault dweller did you bust?”
“Some profligates still think they are above Mars’s will. Did not really end up well for them.”
“Well you are doing the same thing.” Billy pointed at the bottle.
“Caesar’s will is divine, but it will bend rather than break for Centurions. It is less of a pretense than sham elections across the river.”
“Whatever makes you feel better, cowboy.” Billy did not object. They were people from different worlds. And as much as they did not want to admit, opposite sides of the war. None of it mattered here, though. He opened the bottle with gentle, but practical hands. Anything pre-war deserved that kind of respect, at least. “Can you imagine, Aurelius, for whom this bottle was made?” He poured it to the small metal cup and passed it to the giant.
Aurelius seemed unimpressed by the question. “Some profligate. So he can drink and cry and wuss about life. That is all they do.”
“It takes a still heart to be unmoved by it, cowboy.” He stopped himself. “Or a cruel one.”
“An empty boat sways in the wind, profligate. Only the bravest captains can muster the courage to not be moved by it.” He drank the whole cup in one go.
“Is this why you came here, cowboy? To bid farewell?” Billy had a weariness in his words. “I know the Legion is on the move.”
The giant put his index finger to Billy’s lips. The sadness in his eyes was a silent confirmation. “Vulpes is on the move.” He had a silent fury brewing behind his eyes. “That sly bastard is planning to hit Saguaro in two days time and crucify everyone to send a message.”
Billy wanted to ask why he was telling him this, but he knew already. “They will be long gone by then, cowboy.”
The centurion looked pleadingly. “And you?”
“I ran once before, cowboy. Before the battle of Kingman. I will not bear the shame once more.” He reached for his bag behind the cupboard. “Here, take this.” He held the small teddy bear in his arms, like cradling it. “It belonged to my son.”
“You never told me you had a family, profligate.” Aurelius looked hurt but unfazed on the outside.
“Neither have you. And I had a family. It was what my parents wanted for me. Long ago.” He grabbed the cup and drank it whole. “Before Vulpes hit the town while we were chasing ghosts. We came back to a town of crucified civilians.” He quickly poured another cup and swallowed it whole again. As if what was coming needed some more drunkenness. “Do you know how much I wanted small nails to exist?”
Aurelius’s hands found the ranger’s cheeks and wiped a tear before pulling him to a hug. “There is still enough time to leave for the profligate lands.” Aurelius did not know to console anyone, for he had consoled none.
“I lived long enough.” Billy’s voice sounded bitter. “It is time to make my last stand.”
“You’d make a great centurion, Billy.” It sounded better in his head. “Perhaps we could’ve rode to battle together.” He stopped mid speech. “You have given me something.” He pulled a small piece of metal from his armor. “The armor of my first kill. And my first plate. I was fifteen.” Billy looked at him with a silent understanding. “He was a big man, like me. He bested me. I was a fledgling legionnaire back then. Just as he was about to make the killing blow, he hesitated. I was a child. Sentiment rarely lives long in the wasteland.”
“But here you are, cowboy. You must not believe that to be the case.”
Aurelius did not give an answer. He just took another sip.
“You must be the one to do it, Grandote.” Billy knew Aurelius got what he meant.
“Such work is beneath a centurion. Legionnaires do the crucifying, so that their hearts grow cold.”
“You won’t or you can not?” Billy pressed on.
“Won’t.” Aurelius did not hesitate.
Billy grabbed the cup. “Coward,” he muttered under his breath.
“Yes.” Aurelius said in a crass tone. “I am.”
He slowly took his armor off and threw the sword somewhere. He didn’t look. The bed seemed too big for his frame so he crumpled slightly to make some space for Billy. The ranger did not speak a word but to give the bottle back to him. A sliver of the liquid remained so he just chugged it down. Billy found his way next to him.
His hands prowled on the cowboy’s hair. “Tell me more about your son,” he said.
“He was seven when Le-” He sighed. “He loved that bear. He wouldn’t go anywhere with it. I too carried that bear for years, like the guilt.”
“I never knew mine. Nor did I have any toys to carry around. I had a sword by that age. Wasteland robs everyone’s childhood, it seems.”
“So many I have saved across the years as a ranger. Not my own though. I made my peace with so many things, Grandote.”
He turned his face towards him. “Have you?”
Aurelius looked at the water stains in the pillow. “No.”
He too failed to save his family. He let his fingers linger on the ranger’s hair, just a little longer.
The mercy of a quick sleep was not for this day.
The morning sun reared its head not long after, and Aurelius left the way he came, unadorned.
Puerto Penasco felt like a ghost town for a few days. Billy forced so many to leave.
To the Rapids. To Baja. To Gente. To New California and the lands beyond. To Tlaloc and the Ejército. Anywhere but Legion.
In the end only a few of the last vestiges of the Arizona rangers remained. A handful of people too proud or maybe too guilt ridden to leave. When the Legion came for them, wasteland blazed with the glory of the rangers of old for the last time. Billy was one of the last to fall, and he even managed to put a bullet through Vulpes’s arm. But he too fell.
Billy opened his eyes to a familiar face.
His hands were tied to a cross.
“Grandote” he murmured.
The man did not look at his eyes.
He looked at the metal pieces in his hand.
Small nails.
“Thank you.”
The Legion made camp on the banks of the river.
Legionnaires marched, and Aurelius wept.