Page 149 of The Lost Metal

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“Nope,” Wax said. He finished off his beer, then held the bottle out, dangling between two fingers. “I don’t buy it, Wayne. I know you. And Irespectyou. Admire you. There are times I wish I could be as good a man as you are.”

Wayne sat up, squinting at him. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Damn right.”

“Mate, I burned down a building today. And not one what you’re supposed to burn down, like a school. A big important building.”

“Yeah, and what did you do with that fire?” Wax asked. “Did you light it and run?”

Wayne shrugged.

“No, you got everyone out,” Wax said. “You specifically led a group of people knocking on doors to make sure everyone escaped. You lit the fire because you needed to, but then you made sure that…” He hesitated, double-checked his bottle was empty, then looked at Wayne with a frown. “Wayne. Schools aren’tmeantto be burned down. Just because we did it once doesn’t mean it’s all right.”

“No, see,” Wayne said, finishing off his own beer, “I figured it out. Schoolsismeant to be burned down. Imagine you was a kid, and you woke up and found the school was plumb gone? Well damn, that’dbe the best rusting day ever!”

Wax sighed.

“I figure,” Wayne continued, “that’s why the city keeps building more schools. Have you seen how many there are these days? The government is saving them up, in case they need to make some kids happy. Then they’ll burn ’em down.”

Wax eyed him. So Wayne smiled and winked, letting him know that this might have been an exaggerated-story-type thing.

Wax leaned back. “I can’t tell with you sometimes…”

“That’s the problem though, ain’t it?” Wayne said. “Because I do terrible stuff! Ranette told me that Durkel girl—apparently, visiting her is theworstthing I coulda been doin’. I’ve been making her life awful all these years even without knowing it!”

“And you care?” Wax asked.

“Course I do!”

Wax inclined his head toward him. “Proof. You’re a good person.”

“Fat lot of good it does when I still mess everything up, mate. I still grab stuff sometimes, even when it’s not my friend’s and I ain’t joking. I don’t think about it until later. And I realize, maybe that fellowlikedhis cigar box.”

“You mess up a lot less than you fix, Wayne. You can’t deny it. You are agood man.”

Wayne fell quiet. Because… because he liked Wax. More, he trusted Wax. Wax was right about things.

Could he… be right about this?

Wax leaned forward. “You can’t keep digging up the corpse of who you used to be, Wayne. You can’t keep toting it around. Let him stay buried. Consider who youare,not who you left behind. That’s what I’ve learned these last few years. It’s made all the difference.”

Huh. It was platitudes. Easy words to say. But Wax didn’t just say things. He never had. Wax meant things.

Maybe… maybe itwastime to bury that corpse. Because rusts, it was feelin’ heavy lately. What would life be like if he weren’t carryin’ that thing? Maybe a part of him was ready, and had been for years. He’dstopped shakin’ when he held a gun. His body was ready to move on. Could his mind allow it?

He scanned out over the city, his head pounding from storing health. Cars bustled below, representatives of a new world, with fancy new buildings throwing long shadows as the sun started to set. The whole Basin was changing.

Why not him with it?

He let himself stop storing up health. Truth was, it wouldn’t do much. His head cleared, and his aches faded.

“Right, then,” he said, sitting up. “We needta solve this thing, Wax. I’ve got this bad feeling—had it all day—that we’re on a trail that is far,fartoo cold for comfort.”

“Agreed,” Wax said, pulling over two duffels. “Look through that. See what Steris packed us.” He pushed over the first of them—his ammo pack, retrieved from a rooftop.

Wayne took it and undid the ties and zipper, while Wax dug in the other and took out some pages, holding them up. The billboard had some electric lights on it, to make the thing visible at night—which wasgood for readin’. Huh. Maybe Wax had a good reason for pickin’ this spot after all.

Wayne began counting ammo for Wax’s guns, setting it aside in little pouches. “So,” he said, “they was testin’ some flyin’ bomb out in the ocean?”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy