The next day, at first light, Quentin, Miles, and the others drove the repaired diesel truck out of Hawthorne Town.
This time, they carried more spare parts and tools, along with four extra barrels of diesel Marshall had generously thrown in.
"They've left already?"
At the truck stop, Marshall Stone rolled tobacco as he questioned one of his men.
"They left this morning," his deputy answered.
"Damn it, good riddance..."
Marshall cursed, clenched the hand-rolled cigarette between his teeth, lit it, and took a deep drag.
"Whew..."
Smoke curled through the air.
"Sir, I don't understand why we had to give in that much," the deputy could not help saying again. "Those little bastards took away two full days' worth of diesel rations for the motor pool!"
"We can find more diesel once it's gone. If people die, there's nothing left."
Marshall spoke unhurriedly. "The Sentinel Prime Model, Quentin Quire, an Omega Mutant... Either one has the power to destroy this town outright. Or destroy you."
"The most important thing when living on this land is keeping your head clear and staying out of trouble." Marshall took another drag. "If you still can't understand that, it only means I should replace my deputy."
"..."
The deputy gritted his teeth.
Marshall paid him no mind and quietly continued puffing away.
Tap tap tap...
Just then, a burst of hurried footsteps came from downstairs.
"Sir!"
A gang member shoved open the door and rushed in, panting heavily. "Another group has arrived east of town!"
Marshall's hand, holding the cigarette, paused. Instinctively, he felt that something was wrong.
"Who are they?" he asked with a frown.
"Their leader is a man..."
The gang member described him. "He's very tall, has white hair, only one eye, and half his body is metal..."
Before he