Five men stood guard in the middle broken, desolate road. Behind them was a small lane that extended to the left. It cut through the sides of the valley, where hazy concrete towers sat on the sizzling horizon, boiling under the sun hanging above their heads. They all wore light, fading green jumpsuits and helmets, and each had a baton in their hands. One of them had a snub-nosed revolver tucked in a visible holster, sitting on the side of his belt. It was a small, palm-sized weapon with a black, metallic frame and a large trigger, sitting underneath the cylinder, hosting five golden, flat-tipped bullets. Its wooden grip sat outside the holster with a thick, fat curve, for ease of access in any situation.

It used to only be three men, but after a recent spike of bandit raids, they added two more to the tally, just in case. The five all spent the better part of the blazing, cloudless afternoon staring at the empty road from two sides, keeping watch, just in case something were to happen.

One of them spotted something on the horizon of the road from his binoculars. It was a small, distant black spot approaching them very slowly. It wasn't until five minutes after that something was found when the man who spotted it could finally make out what it was.

"North. Three subjects. One Kertau and two individuals; one sitting on the Kertau and the other one leading it. All unidentified," he reported.

The five men became high-strung, but they were prepared. This was what they were here for. But this time, it was more than that. Something was wrong. It wasn't just two unknown individuals approaching them from afar that's bad, but the fact they were bringing a Kertau with them made it worse.

Kertaus were practically rare in this area. Most of them were imported from down south and used to transport visitors from their outposts. In fact, the five men were meant to prepare for an arrival today; a medium-sized caravan, carrying around six to seven, towed by a Kertau that looked exactly like the one heading towards them.

It took another five minutes for the individuals to come into view for the naked eye. Under the sun, the five men couldn't make out the details, just the faint contours of their silhouettes, bouncing up and down as they made their way nearer and nearer towards them.

“Hey, stop right there,” the man with the gun shouted with a grizzled voice, raising a tanned, burly arm towards them.

The silhouette kept moving for a while as if his warning wasn't heeded at all. Then, the silhouette sitting atop the Kertau leaned down, shaking the shadow that was leading the creature. The shadow turned towards the silhouette, and finally, stopped moving.

"Baku," the man with the gun called out as he drew out his revolver from his holster, "Go check it out."

One of the men took out his baton and jogged towards the silhouette. He came back later, leading the Kertau while a heavily dressed old lady sat atop it. She looked towards the man with the revolver and spoke in a low, feeble voice.

She said slowly, "A gun? For an old lady? What's next? A body search"

The man with the gun had his revolver pointed towards the old lady from his hips. His finger sat outside the trigger guard, lax, yet prepared, just to meet any trouble.

"Protocols, ma'am," he answered, pointing to the far side with his other hand, "And who is that behind you?"

Standing behind the Kertau was another man. His entire face was bandaged, down to his neck. They couldn't see his eyes too, as it was hidden beneath a pair of motorcycle goggles. He too was heavily dressed but looked considerably worse than the old lady. His coat was half-torn and caked with dry blood. Underneath that was an equally bloodied shirt and jacket, tied together in a knot around the waist with a thick, frayed rope. He was also dark-skinned, with light patches showing from what little that the man with the gun could see from under his clothes.

The man with the gun turned his revolver towards him, the finger now curled around the trigger.

"He's a fellow survivor," the old woman spoke.

The man with the gun turned towards the old woman, "Survivor?"

"Bandits raided our caravan," she explained, "They killed everyone except for us. We hid under the bodies. I was so scared, I could feel myself shaking. This man took the risk and covered my body with his. Got dirty for it."

The man with the gun was sceptical, "Where's the caravan now?"

"Thirty minutes or so down the road," the old lady answered, "We took care of the bodies when the bandits left. It was a massacre; I couldn't leave them behind like that."

The man with the gun was still sceptical, but he didn't pry any further. He holstered his revolver and ordered the men to conduct a search on both the old lady and the bandaged man. The old lady didn't carry much aside for some food and water. The bandaged man, however, was carrying more. He had a rucksack, and in it were some trinkets; including a decaying lunchbox; and a heap of bullets. The man with the gun was immediately alarmed.

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He asked the bandaged man, "Where'd you find these?"

"We found what's left from the bodies," the old lady answered in his stead, "They took everything else."

"You claim bandits raided your caravan, but they still left this much?"

The old lady didn't answer.

The man with the gun left their food and water and the lunchbox alone but confiscated the bullets. They conducted a body search again and found a big dagger on the bandaged man. The man with the gun examined the blade. It was clean, but some notches and cuts told him it's been through considerable use. He confiscated that too. The bandaged man didn't seem to be bothered by it, though the man with the gun did see the bandaged man looking at him quite often after that.

"Now," the man with the gun turned to the old lady and asked, "What's your business coming here?"

"Shelter," the old lady, "And to stock up on supplies."

The man with the gun then pointed towards the bandaged man, "And him?"

"He is with me," the old lady said.

"Not until I hear it from him," the man with the gun said.

The bandaged man was silent, even after the obvious prompt. He merely stood in place and stared at the man with the gun through his goggles, occasionally glancing at the old lady and the other men surrounding them.

"Speak, you freak," the man with the gun said.

"He's a mute," the old lady explained.

"Really?"

"I'd have no reason to tell a lie, do I?"

"Not ones I know," the man with the gun grabbed his revolver. He cocked the hammer and pointed it towards the bandaged man. He was a tall man, standing almost a head's height over the bandaged man as he aimed down revolver's sight at his face from point-blank range

The trigger was now mere wind's breadth away from the trigger frame. Just one slight tick from a careless finger would send a golden bullet right towards the ground where the bandaged man's face sat between. The man with the gun kept his finger tightly curled against the trigger, ready to pull that slight tick at any time.

The bandaged man remained perfectly still. He stared right down the gun; the dark hole of its barrel's stubby nose reflecting on his goggles. Not a single word came out of his mouth; if he even had one behind the bandages. With the things the man with the gun had seen in his life in the wasteland, he wouldn't even question it.

The bandaged man stayed silent.

The man with the gun lowered his revolver, flicking up the hammer as he holstered it. He ordered one of the men to him and walked a good distance down the road, away from the bandaged man and the old lady's earshot, turning his back against them as he spoke to the other man.

"I don't trust them. I'm taking them to the office," the man with the gun said to the other man, "Dispatch recon to see the wreckage; if it even exists. Tell them to expect something within a thirty-minute travel time. If they don't find anything within that range, prepare for interrogation."

The other man replied, "But the guy with the bandage on his face can't-"

"I'm not done talking," the man with the gun said, "When the recon team comes back with a negative, we'll shoot him. For now, get on the radio and send one ASAP. Is there anyone out there right now?"

"There's a patrol from last night. Should be heading back right now for the next shift," the other man answered.

"Tell them to take the main road en route," the man with the gun said, "When they come back, take the knife and the bullets and report what they found to me immediately. We'll figure out what to do with them by then."

The other man then asked, "What about the Kertau?"

The man with the gun asked back, "We've got any caravans in the main town?"

The other man nodded, "Three. One of them's due this evening."

The man with the gun asked, "Does this one have a dick?"

"Which one?"

The man with the gun pointed towards the Kertau behind him. The other man went ahead and checked. He crouched down, checking the space between the Kertau's legs.

He went back to the man with the gun, "Big one."

The man with the gun replied, "I'll handle it."

The other man nodded.

"And take this," the man with the gun said, handing his revolver along with the holster to the other man, "I'm leading them into the city."

The other man fitted the holster to his belt and asked, "What if they do something?"

The man who used to have the gun raised his baton and replied, "Oh, I wish they do."

He turned around and walked towards the old lady and the bandaged man and grabbed the Kertau's leash. The Kertau was reluctant, tugging its skull away from the man as it inched closer towards the bandaged man, for some reason. It let out a high-pitched noise, sounding off louder and louder.

The man then yanked on the leash and shot a deadly glare towards the Kertau. The noise immediately stopped. The creature reluctantly complied, moving its head away from the bandaged man.

He turned towards the old lady sitting on it, "Get off."

"I can't stand very well," she commented.

"Then get the freak to carry you," the man said.

The old lady sighed and turned towards the bandaged man, saying to him, "Show me your back."

The bandaged man turned his back towards the old lady. Slowly, the old lady moved her legs to the side and slid off the Kertau. She landed right on the back of the bandaged man, wrapping her arms around his neck. The bandaged man shifted his shoulders and held the old lady by her legs. Both of them seemed very uncomfortable with their hands tied to one another.

The man dragged the Kertau from behind and spoke to the two, "Follow me."

Leaving the four men; including a newly appointed man with the gun, the man led the distressed two down the small lane, heading towards an empty, desolate landscape of towers.