The Journeyman by Michael Allen Peck

Author:Michael Allen Peck [Peck, Michael Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9860823-1-3
Publisher: Dinuhos Arts via Indie Author Project

When Paul awoke in the morning, he and Rain were huddled together in the dewy grass. The rug and fire were gone.

He’d thrown an arm over her. She hugged her holstered gun.

If the fires were gone, so was their protection.

He sat up. Rain stirred.

Po stood a distance away, his back to them. Paul suspected that the monk had been facing them only moments before, keeping watch. He’d never seen him or Ken sleep.

Rain shook her hair out and tied it up in a ponytail. Paul got up and stretched, and they started back to where they’d left Porter and Ken.

“Good morning,” Rain said to Po as they passed him in the empty grass, the Nightlights nowhere to be seen. The little man nodded, and Paul was struck by how well he’d learned to read the monk’s expressions. Po wanted them to understand that he’d intruded only enough to ensure their safety.

Porter and Ken sat in the grass as if the rugs and fiery bowls were still there. They all exchanged good mornings. Po walked past them and stopped a few yards away, looking down the hill at an empty road snaking off into the distance below.

“I cannot believe this is the same person who demolished a dozen men in a diner,” Porter said, watching him. “It’s hard to think he was so angry, even though I saw the aftermath for myself.”

“He is still angry,” Ken said. “It does not fade. He merely distracts it when he can.” He stood to follow Po’s gaze down the road.

Paul looked, too, but saw nothing.

“It is diversion at best, not true calm,” the mummy continued. “My real fear is that if he were left to his own devices, his fights would end only with his death or the death of his opponents. So I finish them for him, before that can happen.”

“He can hear this, right?” Rain said.

“I would not trouble myself saying it if he could not. He needs to know where he must improve.”

The monk turned to face them, as if preparing a rejoinder of some sort. Then they all heard what had drawn his attention.

The faint grind of an approaching engine.

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