Project HAVOC

Chapter VI

Chance and Aaron arrived at Poynt Town late that following evening. Chance hitched the wagon and gave Julia a secured stable for the night. Finding a buyer for Aaron's feathers was as easy as Chance predicted, and ended up with a generous amount of notes to spend. The final task was getting a room for themselves, away from the elements and troublesome wildlife.

The lobby to the inn was a cozy, little room, with floors made from salvaged wood that creaked with every step Chance took. He approached the counter, where an innkeeper was leaning lazily with a cigar in his mouth. "Two rooms for two nights."

The innkeeper nodded and opened a leather-bound, worn ledger. As he sifted through the pages, a deep frown distorted his already wrinkled face. "You're out of luck, son. I only got one room available."

Night had fell hours ago, and Chance wasn't in the mood to look for another inn. He was sure Aaron didn't mind sharing a bed, given his sleeping quarters as a slave was far worse. He had already sent Aaron to the bar across the way to secure a table, anyway. "Eh, one room, then."

"Chance? Is that you?"

Turning towards Swing's voice, Chance lifted the brim of his hat. "Yeah, it's me."

"Watcha doing back?" Swing creased his brow, blinking with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "I was sure I wouldn't see you again for at least another six months."

Chance rubbed the back of his head, wondering how to convey his situation into the fewest words that would least likely call for an explanation. "It's a long story. I had to make a transaction for a friend."

"Friend? Mr. I-Don't-Need-Anyone has a friend?"

"Like I said, it's a long story."

The innkeeper loudly cleared his throat, interrupting the pair. He tossed a single key on an iron ring on the counter. "Here ya go, kid. You're in room four."

Chance grabbed the room key and turned back to Swing. "Come on. We can talk at the tavern."

"Um, the one across the way?"

"Yeah." Chance veered passed Swing and headed towards the inn's exit. "Where else?"

Swing placed hand on Chance's shoulder, stopping him at the doorway. "You may wanna try another place, Chance. I've seen Bryan and his crew in there."

The color instantly left Chance's face at the mention of Bryan's name. He usually hid it well if Bryan wasn't close. This situation, however, was entirely different. "What? Right now?

"I was just there, so we—"

Chance didn't bother to let Swing finish and darted out of the door. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, unable to hear his own frantic footsteps against the hard, desert ground. He could faintly hear Swing calling after him, but didn't give him a backwards glance.

Aaron eventually found a secluded table in the corner of the tavern, where he waited silently. The room glowed with a relaxing haze from several lanterns and thick tobacco smoke. Glasses clang as bartenders served their patrons, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol. The men proclaimed their travels and adventures, the room droning with stories of beasts, marauders, and survival.

In a lawless world, most women didn't dare venture from the safety of their family. The few women present disappeared up an inconspicuous stairway with the most established-looking men. The gender imbalance had been this way since the Cataclysm, and what happened next was something to be expected.

A glass of spirit landed in the middle of Aaron's table. Startled, Aaron looked up to find a broad, tall man with brown hair and a thin beard standing over him. Judging from his smell, Aaron could tell that the man had been in the tavern for a while.