Page 142 of The Lost Metal

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Wax frowned, stepping closer. “Where is the bomb?”

“Aaah. It is not the bomb you should worry about. It is the destruction I have sent if that bomb fails.”

“I think you’re bluffing,” Wax said.

“Think what you wish. But you yourself know the strength—the capacity—one has in those moments before death. It is when the soul is pushed to the limit that true exceptionalism manifests. And so, there must be a consequence—as final and terrible as death—for failure.”

“And what must we do,” Wax said, “to get you to leave us the hell alone?”

Autonomy’s bloody lips smiled. “Prove you deserve it.” She closed her eyes. And the body stopped breathing.

Rusts. Could he believe a word of what Autonomy had said? Could he risk ignoring it? Either way, it left him more rattled than the chase had.

He quickly began digging through the papers in the back of the truck anyway. He found much of it chopped to shreds, then soaked in buckets of water. They’dbeen trying to prevent him from getting the information.

Fortunately, he found a notebook that was only halfway soaked and began flipping through, reading records of test launches. Rusts… these “self-propelled rockets” could travel thirty or forty miles. How had they launched them without anyone knowing?

The ships,Wax realized.That’s why they built the navy—so they couldtest weapons out on the ocean.The notes confirmed it. He checked the dates of the latest test.

They matched the dates of Gave’s “vacation.” They’dsailed out into the ocean to run tests. But the rockets had failed, or at least they hadn’t performed to desired levels. They couldn’t quite reach Elendel—though the notebook was full of ideas to get them to go the little farther they needed.

He put together everything of use he could find, then shoved it in a duffel bag he found near the corner. He had so little time to make sense of this, but surely somewhere in all this mess was a hint of where to find the bomb.

He slung the duffel over his shoulder and stepped out of the truck. People had begun gathering, including the poor shop owner who ran the liquor store. The man stood outside, mourning his shattered window.

Though Wax should have been on his way, he hesitated, then walked over and pressed some cash into the man’s hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Trying to prevent a catastrophe.”

The man gaped at the money, but before he could reply, Wax spotted something just inside the broken window.

“Hey,” he said. “Is that a case ofLogshine?”

***

A short time later, Wax touched down at the laboratory where he’dleft Wayne. As he’dhoped, the younger man had dealt with the enemies, even tying a few up. Now Wayne had settled down with a handkerchief that had someone else’s initials on it and was wiping his nose. He looked miserable.

Wax had never been forced to store health, so he could only imagine how it felt—particularly in the middle of a job. And now that the thrill of the chase was over, Wax was tired. Rusts, he shouldn’t join investigations without any sleep. He wasn’t twenty anymore.

He walked over to Wayne, who blinked up at him. Then Wax raised two bottles of Logshine, a beer brewed in the Roughs—best there was.

“Rusts, Wax,” Wayne said. “Where did you findthose?”

“Amazing what comes up in the line of duty,” he said, handing one to Wayne.

“I ain’t had a bottle of Logshine in years.” The man actually teared up. “You… Rusts, mate. You really do care about me, don’t you?”

“I think it’s time,” he said to Wayne, “that we take a bit of a breather.”

“Can we afford to?”

“I need to dig through what I found,” Wax said. “And if we keep running into fights exhausted, we’ll get ourselves killed. I think we can spare a half hour or so. Sound good?”

“Good?” Wayne said. “It soundsrusting amazing.”

56

Sneaking through this strange cavern unseen proved impossible for Marasi. The floodlights on the ceiling left little in the way of shadows, and the homes were built around a central park—including fake grass made of some wood chips painted green. Nothing would be more conspicuous than someone being furtive.

So, feeling utterly exposed and half expecting to hear gunshots, she walked down one of the picturesque rows of townhouses. Trying to pretend she belonged. After the urgency of rushing from one fight to another, it felt surreal.


Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy