War Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 5) by Aaron Ritchey (find a book to read TXT) 📗

I’d used my saddle bags as a pillow and slept next to Wren’s pistols, not that they’d done me much good.

“I’ve eaten,” Pilate barked. “And I’m going west. Once you pack up and eat, come find me. I wouldn’t tarry. If the sun comes out, my footprints will be gone.” Without another word, he marched off at a trot. In the grasses, his boots would leave perfect footprints behind, driving his boot and heel into the frozen blades.

I wasn’t hungry. I was mad. Yes, I’d asked him to train me, but it didn’t mean he should leave me alone. I shook the hoarfrost and dirt off the sleeping bag and shoved it into the saddle bags. I pulled on my boots, strapped on my guns, donned mittens and a warm hat, and took off after Pilate.

The sun swirled orange in the misty, freezing air, not touching the earth much. The air had a cold muddy smell. I followed his boot prints until I found him. He had a tight Nferno skull cap under his cowboy hat. I’d have made fun of him, but he his eyes told me not to dare.

“You drink water yet?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He shoved me and I fell to the ground. “You will stay hydrated. If you get thirsty, you get sloppy, and you get weak. The enemy will kill you if you get sloppy. The enemy will kill you if you get weak. Have you eaten?”

I glared up at him and again, shook my head.

“What does a car run on?” he asked.

“Eterna batteries out in the World. Manure here in the Juniper, mostly, in steam engines.”

“And what does your body run on?” he demanded. The joking, smirking Pilate was gone, and instead, I looked into the mad-dog eyes of a drill sergeant who appeared to hate me... or maybe that was complete disgust in his eyes.

“Food and water,” I muttered.

“Yes, Genius. And what did I say back in Plainville?”

“You said to eat and catch up with you.”

“Yes, Genius. And that’s your new name. I won’t call you Weller until you deserve it. Right now, you aren’t human, Genius. Do you know what you are?”

I shrugged.

“You are a useless baby, Genius. You’re a suckling puppy without sense.”

I tried to get up and he pushed me down.

“We’ll work on balance later because you have the balance of an idiot colt just out of her mother. So, you’re going eat. You’re going to drink. Then come and catch up with me.” With that, he turned around and left me, on the ground, feeling hurt and laughing at that hurt.

I had to walk to Denver, but heck, I’d done the same distance before. This time, however, I had food, water, and gear. I’d done it with nothing, on damaged feet, thinking I was alone in the world and everyone in my family dead.

This was going to be simple. Let Pilate treat me like crapperjack. At least my feet felt good and if I kept moving, I’d keep warm.

I ate and drank while I jogged after him. I didn’t much like the Quincy Jim Chile-Lime Jerky, but it did the job. I liked the Gatorade better, also lime flavored, which to me is what Gatorade is supposed to taste like. And I had my neo-fiber canteen, though it was empty.

Wasn’t long until I smelled Pilate’s cigar. This time when I caught up to him, he nodded at a windmill in the distance, spinning. It was the only thing in the flat sea of frozen prairie grasses around us. A wind had come up and cleared some of the mist away, but the sky above was still stacked with clouds. A wet smell hung in the air, that and Pilate’s cigar stink.

“Did you eat and drink, Genius?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good.”

He went to shove me, but this time, I was ready. I stood with my knees bent, aligned with my shoulders, my center of gravity lowered. Wren had taught me that. I took his shove, but I didn’t go down.

“Oh, you are a genius, aren’t you?” Pilate asked.

Another nod for him.

Didn’t see his foot, but it curled around my leg, and I was sent sprawling.

“Let your guard down, and the enemy will kill you. There’s the windmill in the distance. Run to it, fill up your bottles, then come back. Get on it.” He collapsed into coughing, but I didn’t ask him about it, or chide him about the cigars.

In truth, he was doing me a favor. I didn’t need a father, and I didn’t need Pilate as my surrogate clown. I needed him to train me, and whatever games he wanted to play, I’d go along without one word of complaint. I’d asked for this. I’d rise to the occasion. I was going to show him that in me was the iron Sharlotte talked about when she laid down in the dandelions.

I ran to the windmill and found the pump working as the wind spun the rotors. Had to break through a centimeter of ice, but I got to the water. I filled up the Gatorade bottle and my canteen.

I ran back to him. Without a word, he unslung his backpack. “Now fill up my bottles.”

I approached his backpack careful, watching him, ready for an attack. Quick as I could, I snatched it up and backed away.

“The genius is learning,” Pilate smirked. “There might be hope for you yet. Now get on it. And I want you drinking every hour. I want you eating every two hours. Your glucose gets low and you get stupid. I’ll ask. If you lie to me, I’ll know, and I will open the gates of hell on you. Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“No,” he said firmly. “You will say, ‘yes sir.’ It’s like every army video you’ve ever seen. You’ll call me sir. I only want to hear ‘yes, sir’ from you, and you’ll do what I say when I say it. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” I barked.

“There is no such thing as