55
The Crocodile explodes.
Its torso is covered by fierce flames coming from the reactor, which in seconds spread to other sections of the armor.
The slavers flee in panic, leaving their wallets behind. Chester shakes the reins and rides between the cages, breaking the locks with slashes. He yells and signals the newly freed men to get away from the fire and run to the village.
By now all the cages are empty. The Crocodile's plates groan, increasingly twisted by the nuclear heat. The Crocodile's lower jaw is the first thing to fall off. Chester contemplates the smoking pile, hesitates, frowns, and finally makes up his mind.
...
El Poste is kneeling near the mountain of fire. He taps the earth repeatedly, tears running down his sunken cheeks.
"Not only Achú... Also Shura... And all because of my foolishness!"
He stands up, ready to throw himself into the fire and disappear consumed along with his lineage, but the sound of metal being cracked stops him. He looks up, and from the half-ruined back of the armor, he sees the tip of a metalcorona blade appear. The blade descends, leaving a groove, and then goes back inside, only to appear on the next second on another side. The process is repeated about fifteen times, with discomfort and a hint of desperation.
With his armor weakened, Chester kicks the metal. When he gets enough space, he leaps, carrying a bundle in his arms. He hits the ground and spins in order to extinguish the flames that bite him. He stands up, Ashura is left on the ground. The Lancasterian removes his scorched vest, and uses it to cover the reddened body of the slaver queen, whose dress is almost torn to shreds by the fire.
Ashura is left with deep burns on her legs and arms, and a trickle of fat running down her pretty face is a clue that the mask was stuck to her skin, and trying to pull it off would surely tear half her face off. Her chest rises and falls... Is alive.
El Poste approaches. He looks at the Lancaster with teary eyes, surrenders, and plants his head between the Muskite's boots to kiss his feet. Chester, tired of everything, grabs him by the shoulders and stops him.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Calm down!" Chester shakes him. "You're the guy from last time, aren't you? El Poste"
"Call me Richard"
"All right, Richard. Listen, my values prevent me from killing women and children... At least not with intent. Take her away, and try to keep her out of trouble"
Richard nods, thanks Chester again, and with the strength that gives him the desire to protect the only thing he has left, he loads Ashura into the truck ex-owned by the obese man. In this way they drive away from La Cuna.
Chester finds the white ostrich, mounts it, and rides to the tribe. As soon as he arrives, everyone, natives and slaves, stares at him dumbly for uncomfortable seconds. Chester receives such stares with a grimace, opens his mouth to ask if they have a problem with him, but in perfect synchrony, men, women, children, old man, and even Gaita, prostrate themselves around him, offering total obeisance.
Let the oligarchs fear...!
Cry some.
Let the tyrants fear...!
Pray others.
Let the cowards fear!
But all agree:
Long live the Lancasterian!
Chester is frozen in the middle of this shower of praise. The little pig, peeking out of the door of the leader's house, and Suri, picking her nose under her bag, are oblivious to the spectacle, and even dumbfounded.