Peace in an Age of Metal and Men Read Online Free PDF Page A

ash lengthened on my cigarette as the man toiled.
    “A man’s sharpening knives, city boy.” I tapped ashes onto the dirt floor next to my bed. “Implication is that he’s planning a murder, right? Sounds like something the law ought to handle.”
    “I told you,” Zane said, his voice shaking with uncertainty. Or was it fear? “We have a strong interest in not involving the sheriff. In fact, the less we can involve anyone, the better.”
    “The law handles stuff like this. Even out here.”
    “It’s not that I don’t have faith in their well-meaning,” Zane said.
    In the hologram the man set down all three knives and left the field of view. Long moments passed. Just as I was about to break the connection and go back to sleep, he returned. The man dragged something behind him, but the object wasn’t visible in the hologram. It struggled. I leaned in close so I could see, and the smoke from my exhale briefly obscured the view.
    I waved to clear the air, but managed to trigger the controls on the cube at the same time. The image disappeared, instead switching back to the main console. Cussing, I quickly gave the gesture to move back to the video, but the signal got misinterpreted and instead brought up some still images of the surrounding area.
    Zane gasped, his voice clear through the earpiece.
    “What is it?” I asked. “I lost the feed.”
    “It’s…”
    My gestures started working. Flipping madly through control screens, I managed to bring up the video, but it was stuck for a painfully long time. The image was distorted, but the image of the man was clear and behind him—
    The picture cleared and resumed motion. The man had moved again and was much closer to the camera. He was testing a knife’s sharpness on his arm. Then he moved and I winced because deep down I knew he’d have a man on that hook.
    I was wrong.
    It was a boy, not more than ten years of age. His legs were bound tightly with rope, and tears streamed from his eyes. The boy wore ragged clothes, like a he’d been dragged off the street. There was no sound, but I could almost hear the wails as the boy screamed and pleaded. The man didn’t seem to hear anything. He smiled, pursing his lips like he was whistling the whole time.
    He slit the boy’s throat and slashed his wrists in three fluid motions.
    It took the boy no more than a few seconds to die. A quick death is a mercy sometimes. It can be a kindness.
    What I saw there sure as hell was no kindness. Rage boiled up in my belly. This needed justice. Someone needed to get in there and make that man face what he’d done. Someone needed to stop this from happening again.
    The cigarette dropped from my lips.
    “Call the sheriff,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
    “We can’t,” Zane said.
    “Why not?”
    “Take the job, J.D.” Zane’s voice shook. “Take the job that Goodwin’s offering. Make this right and earn some money at the same time.”
    “Where did this happen?”
    “You won’t bring Sheriff Chin into it?” Zane said.
    Sheriff Trisha Chin was in charge of justice for a hundred-kilometer radius around Dead Oak. She had been my partner for a time before I stepped down. She cared as much about justice as I had, and so when she took over as sheriff people had been happy. They got someone who was both tougher and nicer than me. Prettier too.
    “Something’s gone wrong in the town of Swallow Hill,” said Zane. “Something bad and you might be the only one who can fix it.”
    I didn’t answer for a long time. Peace. I’d known peace. Could I really put that aside for this?
    The image of the boy still flickered above my cube and in its light my guns seemed to dance on the wall. I’d seen boys like him before. Poor, hungry, tired. Abandoned. I’d neglected them before, too. Were they ever really better when I tried to help?
    The moment was broken by the acrid smell of burning fabric. I quickly patted out the fire on my shirt where my dropped cigarette had