The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One by V. Timlin (speed reading book .TXT) 📕

didn’t look like it had been in business for months, although Nat said it went under just three weeks prior. Its dark windows opened to the street like black holes, sucking all the light through its four frames, reflecting none back. One of the windows had already been broken. Either someone had checked if there was anything valuable left behind, or local children had found it impossible not to throw a stone through it.

The echoes of the bell striking twelve times had silenced ten minutes earlier, and nothing stirred behind the black windows or down the street.

When Vari and Fitzwil joined Anouk and Nat at Vaughn’s Bakery, they reported seeing no suspicious activities. Anouk wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.

“Either this is a very well-laid trap or no one is here,” Anouk whispered to Nat.

He didn’t reply, but kept scanning the immediate area. Anouk had never claimed she was an expert in seeing hidden threats, but by now there should have been some activity going on either inside the building or outside on the street. Or was she being naive once again?

Rose hadn’t answered Nat’s message. Anouk hoped it meant she had managed to escape and was busy finding her way back to her daughters but dreaded that instead she was already dead.

Nat whispered to Vari and Fitzwil, who nodded and backed deeper into the shadows. He turned to Anouk. “The place is empty, so Vari and Fitzwil are heading back to the wagon while we go inside for a closer look.”

Anouk swallowed and touched the hilt of her katana on her back. “Okay, lead the way.”

Nat crossed the street and to Anouk’s shock walked straight to the front door. Although the bakery seemed deserted, she had expected Nat to find the back door and go in that way.

He picked the lock in a few moments and cracked the door. Its hinges moaned for the lack of use. Anouk grimaced when the sharp metallic whine bounced from the walls of the narrow street. She shot looks around, expecting crooks to materialise from the shadows, but no one attacked. With a sigh of relief, she followed after Nat.

The smell of tobacco, dust and damp mould wafted to Anouk’s nose. Her night goggles gave a green hue to the eeriness of the barren bakery.

“Take your goggles off. I’ll turn the torch on,” Nat whispered.

Anouk complied. A soft click sounded when Nat turned on the lamp. The yellow beam pierced the thick darkness and revealed a slice of dark and wooden floor. As it moved horizontally, the white tiled walls came into the view, creating a stark contrast against the counter and shelves that were the same dark wood as the floor. Everywhere showed signs of disturbed dust.

The floor creaked under their weight. Again, Anouk tensed, expecting Stalo’s throat cutters to leap out at any second. Judging by Nat’s cautious steps, so did he. But just as on the street, no one jumped them or fired a gun in their direction. Bit by bit, Anouk relaxed. They were alone and safe. Well, as safe as anyone could be in The Pits.

They searched the shop, finding nothing but the ashes of tobacco and empty food wrappers. The lingering scent of cigarette smoke hinted the premises hadn’t been deserted long.

“Wait here and watch my back while I check the kitchen.”

Anouk unsheathed her katana. “Watching your back.”

Nat patted her shoulder before he veered around the counter and vanished behind a wall. The creaking sound of the floorboards came from the kitchen when he moved around. There was something comforting in the groans of the boards. Anouk faced the front door, readying herself to deal with anyone who dared to step through it.

Nat’s footfall halted. There came a loud crash and a high-pitched scream. Anouk jumped, almost spitting out her heart, and darted to the kitchen. In the beam of yellow light she saw the face of…

“Rose,” she blurted.

Rose had her back pressed against the wall. The eyes in her pale face were as big as the frying pan she was holding over her head.

“Don’t come any closer. I swear I’ll smash your skulls if you do,” she growled.

“Rose, it’s us. Nat and Anouk.” Nat’s voice soothed truth.

A flash passed over Rose’s face. Disbelief? “Show yourselves.”

Nat turned the beam of light towards Anouk. As soon as the light left her, Rose launched forward, bringing down the pan, targeting Nat. The beam shifted and made a quick circular move in the air. First came a thud, then a grunt and a bigger thud. Silence.

“W…what just happened?” Anouk asked.

“I knocked Rose out.” Nat directed the torch at Rose’s unmoving face. He knelt and touched her neck.

“She’s not dead, is she?” Anouk asked.

“I didn’t hit her that hard, but she will have a headache when she comes around.”

“Why did she attack us?”

“She must have thought they came back or something.” Nat slipped his hand under Rose’s arm. “Help me lift her.”

Anouk moved over to the other side of Rose’s body. Together they lifted her on Nat’s shoulder. Although Rose was short and slight of build, getting her limp body on Nat’s back wasn’t easy. After several moments, Rose rested on Nat like a sack of flour.

“Let’s take her to the caravan.” He toted her out of the bakery.

Anouk took a firmer grip of her katana and followed him. They traced their way back to an empty slot—or rather a dump, judging by the piled and smelling rubbish—between two run-down buildings. Anouk couldn’t understand why the old couple had insisted on hiding the wagon there, but guessed the stench worked as a suitable repellent against prying eyes.

As soon as the still unconscious Rose was boarded, Fitzwil clicked his tongue to the mare. She started to pull the wagon slowly as if knowing there was an injured person on board.

Nat lowered Rose on the bed. Vari sat next to her and checked Rose for bruises. “She’ll be fine. I’ll apply some soothing balm to reduce the swelling, and