Chapter 43: Little Punk
The setting sun sank toward the west, its pale afterglow slanting over Ironatom and laying a warm sheen across the busy city.
People came and went along the streets. Workers with rolled-up sleeves and towels draped over their shoulders wandered along at an easy pace, enjoying a rare moment of rest after a long day’s labor.
Tin loudspeakers hanging from wooden utility poles were playing Gordon Webster’s “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing.” The melody was bright and lilting, full of rhythm, enough to make people sway a little as they walked.
Finn stopped and listened for a moment, then followed Lambert Benson toward his home. After they entered Refuge City, Lambert had found a gas station and filled up his off-road vehicle. At last, he could get that iron lump moving again.
Compared to Black Mountain, Ironatom felt far more relaxed and secure. No men, women, or children walked around with guns on their backs, and there were no gang shootouts breaking out at every hour of the day.
Still, Finn spotted a familiar group: Radiant Path believers. Dressed in red robes, they had gathered at an intersection, preaching that nuclear energy was the devil’s power and urging people to abandon it.
“The Holy Radiance will descend in two months and twenty-nine days!” an elderly white-haired Radiant Path follower shouted. “When the Holy Radiance arrives, the great judgment will begin. To praise the Holy Radiance, we will build the Divine Kingdom…”
“As a city that runs on nuclear power, why do you let Radiant Path followers babble on here? Don’t you find them annoying?” Finn asked.
“Who doesn’t?” Lambert turned the car down another street. “Word is Cool Prophet can’t stand the Radiant Path and even drove them out once. But they’ve got this divine power that purifies nuclear radiation, so everyone just turns a blind eye.”
Lambert pointed toward a line of people at the street corner. “See? The Radiant Path followers set up a booth over there and purify radiation for free. Everyone’s lining up.”
Finn glanced over and felt a flicker of recognition. He’d seen similar scenes back in Black Mountain.
An elderly Radiant Path follower stood there holding a translucent rod that looked like a murky crystal. He closed his eyes, his face pinched in concentration as if exerting some supernatural power. A clear glow flared from one end of the crystal and swept across chunks of mutated bison meat and tin soldier toys, stripping away the nuclear radiation.
“The Radiant Path says only those who believe in the Holy Radiance can wield the divine power to purify radiation,” Lambert sighed. “Even Cool Prophet can’t do it, so we just have to put up with them and listen to their preaching.”
While in Black Mountain, Finn had killed quite a few Radiant Path priests, even taking down a high-ranking high priest.
City Lord Darius had seriously warned him that the Radiant Path wouldn’t let it go and would scheme in every possible way to assassinate him. Olivia had voiced the same concern.
Finn wasn’t worried. Soldiers came, he would block them; floods came, he would dam them. If one came, he would kill one. If two came, he would kill the pair. If they really pushed him too far, he would simply wipe out the entire Radiant Path and end the problem for good.
The off-road vehicle crossed an overpass, wound through narrow alleys, and pulled up in front of “Benson Auto Repair Shop.” It was a two-story building with a wide courtyard. Several vehicles—pickups, jeeps, and the like—were parked there, with repair pits dug into the ground.
“We’re home,” Lambert said with a long sigh of relief. He pressed an orange button on the dashboard, and the garage door beside them slowly rolled open.
Lambert parked the vehicle, and Finn followed him into the courtyard.
An impatient female voice called down from the second floor. “Dad? Who’s this? You brought another stranger home again!”
Finn looked up. On the balcony, a curvaceous young woman leaned against the iron railing.
She had an attractive face and silky gray hair that spilled loosely over her shoulders, with lips painted a fiery red. She wore a pure white spaghetti-strap tank top and a sky-blue ultra-short skirt, her full, slender legs bare and pale.
She wore purple eyeshadow and alluring lip gloss. Finn could tell she wasn’t very old—around eighteen or nineteen. Though her figure was still youthful, she had already started dressing herself up to look mature, like a flashy little punk.
The girl stared at Finn with a hostile expression. From the way she spoke, it seemed Lambert Benson had a habit of picking up strangers out in the wasteland and bringing them home.
“This is my daughter, Sylvia Benson,” Lambert introduced.
He pointed at Finn and said to her, “This is Finn, a guy I met in the wasteland. He’s a mutant, you know.”
“A mutant?” Sylvia’s impatient look shifted slightly. “What’s his special ability?”
“Riding a bicycle,” Lambert replied.
“Riding a bicycle? Hahahahaha!” Sylvia burst into an unrestrained, high-pitched laugh, her mouth opening wide to reveal neat white teeth. “What kind of ability is that? I can do that too.”
“Show some respect,” Lambert said seriously. “Without him, I wouldn’t have made it home tonight. I might’ve even starved to death out in the wasteland.”
Sylvia didn’t flinch at her father’s scolding. She fired right back, “That’s because you never think about gas mileage when you modify your cars. You always shove in the biggest engine you can find. Serves you right if you run out of gas and starve!”
“If I starved to death, what would you eat? Can’t you be sensible for once?” Lambert snapped, fuming.
Sylvia glanced at Finn, her expression growing even more disgusted. Completely ignoring his presence, she said loudly,
“Dad, stop dragging home every random person you run into! Did you forget already? Last time you helped that traveling merchant, he stole my Vellichor radio! That was a limited edition from Cool Prophet’s fiftieth anniversary!”
She dropped the words, shot Finn a warning glare, then turned and slammed the door shut with a bang.
“Oh, you’re always inviting those good-for-nothing friends of yours over for parties, but I’m your dad and I can’t bring a guest home?” Lambert shouted up toward the second floor.
He let out a long sigh and said to Finn, “My daughter’s just got that kind of temper. Her mother died early, so no one really disciplined her properly. Don’t mind her.”
From behind the closed door on the second floor, Sylvia yelled sharply, “Don’t talk about my mom!”
Finn shrugged. He wasn’t about to get upset over this. He was here to find the World Nucleus, not to argue with a little punk.
Upstairs, Lambert cleared out an empty room for Finn to use as a bedroom. The furniture was simple, but it was comfortable enough, with a soft linen quilt and a freshly laundered old cotton pillow.
Over the next few days, Finn ran into Sylvia Benson several times. She continued wearing her sky-blue ultra-short skirt and tight spaghetti-strap tank top that accentuated her full chest, her long gray hair smooth and silky as she flaunted her beauty without restraint.
Yet she never gave Finn a friendly look, and Finn didn’t let it bother him.