“We’ll make it through,” I said.
“Faith, not fear,” Rachel echoed Pilate. “But I have no faith in the grace. It gave me fear. It is a wicked thing.”
“It removes the fear,” I said. “It’s a good thing.”
“You’re a good thing,” Rachel said. She hugged me.
The storm moved off as quickly as it had come. New pools of water shimmered on the table of slickrock around us—water which kept us alive.
Rachel’s fear of Glenwood infected me as well. We rode on, and I couldn’t imagine what we would have to face once we got that far.
And still, I kept my master plan to myself.
I knew with the ARK’s army on our tail, we only had one person in the Juniper who could help us. Only one.
June Mai Angel, the worst Outlaw Warlord the Juniper had ever seen, and the woman who had destroyed our town. She was the answer. If she didn’t kill us first.
First, though, we had to make it through Glenwood Springs.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m sick with a white line fever infection
Big rig lights in the rear view’s reflection
Radio spoons out static one town at a time
That long lonesome highway tearing up my mind
Closer to home, but farther away
Closer to home, but farther away
— Matty Canton
(i)
SEVERAL NIGHTS LATER we stopped cycling at dawn and caught our first look at the Rocky Mountains. The bruised purple slopes capped by white peaks taunted us. We had kilometers of desert to cross until we reached even the foothills.
The Kokopelli Trail played hide-and-seek with the Colorado River. The trail would dip low enough for Wren to climb down to fill our jugs. We’d boil the water in pots and then fill our water bottles. Rarely, though, could we get close enough to the river to bathe.
Whenever Micaiah kissed me, I’d worry about how I smelled, though it seemed he didn’t mind any. Micaiah was like the moon, waxing with desire or growing thin, his desire waning. I’d learned his rhythms during our time in the waterfall oasis.
When his meds were working, he’d get full of desire and love for me, and then slowly, his emotions would wear away and he’d wane until he never smiled, never laughed, his soul just a sliver on a dark night.
Another dose, and he’d be full again, kissing me, and touching me, until I had to run away from his desire. My resolve to be chaste was crumbling like a riverbank during a flood; I wanted him. At times, I felt so tingling and swollen with lust that I knew if I didn’t get what I wanted, I’d die. I wanted to eat him, smile, smell, and all.
One morning, while we were setting up camp still some distance from Grand Junction, Micaiah came to me. “Full moon,” he said and showed me the vial of his medication. Only twelve hundred and fifty microliters remained. And he’d already given Rachel seven hundred and fifty microliters.
I sat with him as he gave himself an injection, two hundred and fifty microliters, half his normal dose.
“I still can’t believe I’m letting you see me do this,” he whispered. “I feel so ashamed.”
I held his hand and kissed him. We didn’t need to say one more word about it.
He moved back. Trouble shook his voice. “I’m going to give the vial to Rachel. If she goes with my normal dose, she will have emotions for the next two months. I’ll go without until we can find more. If we can find more.”
“We will,” I said.
“I’m going to change again,” he said. “I won’t be me. I’ll go blank.” He didn’t say it as a threat, only the truth.
I pulled him close and held him tight, so he couldn’t see my worry.
Wren traipsed up. “Hey, you two. Wanna see something cool?”
Love my sister, but sometimes she was as clueless as a castrated bull looking for his lost bits. Micaiah slid away from me and went off to unroll his sleeping mat under some pinyon pines.
I did the blushing for the both of us. “Sure, Wren.”
She leaned in close and showed me new teeth pushing through her gums. “Can you believe it, little sister?” she asked, nearly giddy. “I’m gettin’ my teeth back. It’s a miracle ’cause I believe in God again.”
While I didn’t want to squash her faith, I knew it wasn’t the right hand of God. “Wren, it’s from the Gulo Delta. It’s re-coded your DNA. Most likely, it had to fix your more vital areas before it decided to work on your vanity.”
“Love my vanity like I love my guns,” she said, smiling. “Getting juiced up with the Gulo Delta magic was the best thing that ever happened to me. I only need to sleep a little, and every day I feel better, faster, stronger. Next skanks that come after us, I’m gonna pound them into jackercrap.”
“Please, don’t curse,” I said, though that was hypocritical of me. I’d been cursing more than ever. And doing more with Micaiah.
“Sorry, Cavvy. I forget you have such delicate ears. I’ll try harder.” She kissed my cheek, then walked off to take cover. We had to keep out of sight. Hadn’t seen any zeppelins, but there were still satellites.
Wren getting her teeth back was a miracle, but what else was happening to her at a microcellular level?
(ii)
We got more information about the threat in Glenwood Springs a few days later, when we stopped at a peach orchard on the eastern outskirts of Grand Junction, irrigated by the Colorado River. We might’ve been in Fruita, but there weren’t any signs anymore to tell us.
We attacked the peaches. It had been a long time. Mostly, we’d been eating the deer and desert sheep Wren shot. She’d pack the shredded meat into the animal’s own intestine, making sausages that tasted growly and sagey. Having fruit was a real treat, and once again I remembered how Micaiah had wept over his favorite food.
The late season peaches drooped, worm-eaten and bird-pecked. However, once we cut off the black spots, the fruit tasted sweeter than candy.
Our guns hung off our shoulders, and our bikes rested on the ground while we ate in silence. All at once, a flock of birds flapped from the trees, chirping and scolding, as good a warning as a shiny bell ringing. People were coming.
Before I could blink, Wren pedaled off on her yellow bike with an AZ3 slung over her shoulder. She marched four girls back to us. Dark-haired, dark-skinned, the four looked as Hindu as Parvati and as pretty as Sita. Bindis marked their forehead, and while their dresses weren’t bright enough to be saris, they had the same shape and lines. The ages of the girls ranged from little, maybe six, to around my age.
Their eyes widened and turned teary as we looked them over. We were a solemn, rough-looking bunch, like a gang of outlaws. Their eyes kept drifting over to Pilate and Micaiah ’cause they were boys.
“You’re not with Aces, are you?” one asked.
No one said anything for a minute.
“No,” Sharlotte said, “we’re not with anyone. These your peach trees?”
Four heads nodded in a line.
Then the youngest screwed up her courage to ask, “You the Wellers?”
The eldest gasped, “Ajita, please.”
Me, Sharlotte, and Wren all exchanged glances, pretty much confirming little Ajita’s question.
Ajita, emboldened by being right, shuffled a step closer. “People came around askin’ for you. Soldier girls in tanks askin’ for the Wellers. But we knew about you before that. We knew about Abigail and her ranchin’ and salvagin’. Sure, everyone knows about Abigail Weller, and Mavis Meetchum, and Dob Howerter. You guys are famous. Sorry about your ma. We heard she died when June Mai Angel attacked Burlington. June Mai Angel owns all of the eastern Colorado territory now, though Dob Howerter is gettin’ an army together to take it back.”
More exchanged looks. War hadn’t killed Mama, a heart attack had done the job, but Juniper gossip grows bigger the longer you let it. Like a spring blizzard, only it’s bullcrap that piles up instead of snow.
We didn’t correct her.
&n
bsp; “When did that army come around asking questions?” Sharlotte asked.
The eldest, not to be outdone by her boisterous little sister, spoke. “’Bout three months ago. Came and went, and then came back last week. Offerin’ even more money than the first time.”
Ajita pushed forward out of her sister’s reach. “You are the Wellers, and you can’t deny it.” She pointed a finger at us as she recited our names. “You’re Wren ’cause the pistols. You kill people and don’t care at all. And Sharlotte is big and in charge. And Cavatica is smart and pretty.”
“Ajita, don’t point!” the oldest girl admonished.
When we didn’t respond, the little girl charged on. “And that’s Father Pilate, but I don’t see his Beijing Homewrecker. But the collar and his long hair, sure, that’s who it is. I don’t know these other two.” She motioned to Rachel and Micaiah. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell on ya. Those soldier girls were creepy. I didn’t like ’em, and I like most folks.” She came up close and took my hand.
I smiled at the little one. “Well, Ajita, we aren’t gonna say who we are, and we’re sorry for stealing fruit. When we saw ’em, we couldn’t help ourselves. Ain’t too many people on this side of the Rockies, I reckon.”
The eldest girl shook her head. “No, it’s dry around here. Grand Junction is pretty big but gettin’ smaller. Aces steals girls, and that’s who we thought you were at first ’cause you have two boys with you. Ain’t many boys in Grand Junction.”
Rachel and I exchanged glances. Aces. Now we had a name for the “anomalous societal condition” who disrupted regional traffic.
“Who’s Aces?” Wren asked with a grin. Her teeth were coming in perfectly straight, and, once again, her smile dazzled. I knew why she was smiling. Her hands strayed to her Colt Terminators.
“Aces is governor of Glenwood Springs. He kidnaps women ’cause there are lots of men there. A lot. A real mystery. Still, no one goes east of Grand Junction no more. They say the men fight for the women. The best fighter has twenty wives, and the weaker men have none.”
Wren was about to say something, but Sharlotte cut her off. “Well, we’ll turn around. Thanks for the warning.”
Ajita frowned at us. “You can’t turn around. You gots to get to Burlington and take back your home from June Mai Angel. She’s bad. You Wellers can get through Aces, sure. Ain’t nothin’ you can’t do. Took three thousand headcount west to Wendover. Dangdest thing anybody ever saw.”
We simply couldn’t hide our grins.
Ajita wasn’t about to stop. “But be careful of the hogs. They’s in Denver now. June Mai Angel cast a spell and created them.”
Micaiah spoke for the first time. “What do you mean created them?”
Ajita shrugged. “How else could the Juniper get monsters? Someone had to create ’em. What we hear from some peddlers is they’re like demons, better than two meters tall, and hairy and mean. They use axes like hatchets and big machine guns ain’t nothin’ but pistols for ’em. They kill for the fun of it. Crazier than the Psycho Princess and meaner.”
“Are the hogs boys or girls?” Micaiah asked.
Ajita shrugged. “Peddlers don’t say. But with an army like that, June Mai Angel is gonna take over the Juniper, I’ll tell you what. Unless you stop ’em.”
But that wasn’t in my plan, not at all.
I felt Ajita’s hand get sweaty. Or was it mine? Wasn’t sure, but an uneasy feeling had crept into my belly. Micaiah’s face had gone dark. I remembered what he had said before, about the Gulo Gamma creating mutants.
Would the same thing happen to Wren? Maybe with the Gulo Delta, the side-effects took longer to present. I had to swallow down my worry.
Micaiah caught me looking at him, then glanced away.
I’d ask. And he’d tell me everything ’cause his lying days were over.
“You want to stay with us in our house?” Ajita asked.
The eldest shushed her. “Now, Ajita, we can’t invite strangers in. And these fine people have places they have to be, I’m sure.”
“Can you tell us anything more about Aces? Is he Mormon?” Pilate asked.
Ajita blushed. “Don’t know if he’s Mormon or not. Truth is, we just don’t know much about him ’cause the girls he steals don’t never come back. We built a wall outside of Grand Junction to keep him out. He comes in with men, lots of men, on raids. They got steam equipment like you ain’t ever seen. And big guns. Sheriff Martha Wilkes in Grand Junction does what she can, but Aces is bad. Kinda like our very own Outlaw Warlord, but he don’t move around like most outlaws. But I betcha one day June Mai Angel and Aces’ll fight a battle. Sure is a lot of war in the world. Why you think there’s so much war?”
Pilate laughed a little. “God’s left hand is always stirring up trouble. Like Kali, God’s left hand destroys even while his right hand creates. Who can say why?”
Ajita was about to say something, but the eldest took her by the shoulders and shushed her. “Take as much fruit as you like. Already jarred the peaches, and we’ll do the apples next. They’re farther down.”
Sharlotte tipped her hat. “We thank you. We’ll gather a little, if you don’t mind. Sorry, we don’t have anything to trade with you. But we’ll remember your kindness. What’s your last name?”
“Kripke,” Ajita blurted out. “I’m Ajita Kripke, and this is Geeti,” motioning to her oldest sister and then to the two other girls, “and Jasmit and Kundanika. That means ‘golden girl’ in Hindi. We know a lot of Hindi ’cause all our mamas are Hindu. We have lots of mamas, and we love them, and they love us. They say we don’t need the men no more.” She caught herself. “Well, we need them for the thing, like a bull, but the bulls don’t do much nor do the men.” She stopped again, her eyes flickering over Micaiah and Pilate. “Maybe some men are different. But we’re happy in the Juniper away from the New Morality. With just our mamas, who are mostly gillian.”
Geeti turned pale at all the information, obviously embarrassed. We’d gotten their full story, lesbian love and all. The word, gillian, came from the Mandarin phrase tong xing lian.
“Nothing wrong with any of that,” I said. Over the course of my adventures, I’d left behind most of my own New Morality beliefs. I wore jeans and learned tolerance and respect. And to be honest, a community of strong women living in liberty sounded rather nice.
Part of me wondered why more women didn’t come together in free-thinking groups outside of the Juniper. It was another mystery we’d unravel eventually. Turns out, the New Morality wasn’t new, and you know, it wasn’t very moral, either. Sorry, Sally Browne Burke.
The Kripke girls helped us load up the trailer with some fruit, and we mostly took peaches ’cause we all felt bad for stealing the fruit. But knowing Sharlotte, she’d figure out how to repay the Kripke family.
If we survived Aces in Glenwood Springs, the hogs in Denver, and June Mai Angel and her army in Burlington.
Before we left, Ajita gave us a blessing, praying to Shiva to guide and protect us. Maybe I should’ve felt uncomfortable, ’cause the first commandment is pretty clear there being only one god, but with how serious Ajita got, it did feel like a blessing, and I crossed myself.
With that, we biked away from the orchard.
The next day, we topped a hill and saw Grand Junction’s great wall.
Couldn’t miss it. Cars, trucks, minivans, big rigs, all lay stacked on each other, creating a barrier that stretched across the valley. Armed women walked across plywood nailed into the rooftops of the vehicles. It was the kind of wall you might put up against the hordes of hell.
“Aces looks like trouble,” Sharlotte murmured.
“No,” Wren said. “He’s just another jackerdan in this world looking for one of my bullets. I’ll give him two, but only if he’s a good boy.”
Rachel let out a sigh. “The ARK had little intel on the Glenwood Springs anomaly, but now we have a name and a reason for the disruption in regional traffic. Men are stealing women and
holding them captive. The question is, should we risk I-70? And if we are seized, what would happen to Pilate and Micaiah?”
No one had an answer, but I figured they’d be killed. That was what the Psycho Princess did to boys. She was another Juniper anomaly we’d fought our way through.
The sun blazed in the sky, promising hot days forever. The reality was, if we got trapped in the Rockies in a freak fall snowstorm, we could die under three meters of ice.
All eyes turned on me and Sharlotte.
She and I nodded. We both knew what we had to do.
“We’re not going to run from this guy,” I said.
“If he gets in our way, we’ll knock him down,” Sharlotte added.
“You’re jackin’ A right we will,” Wren finished.
I glanced down at my Moto-Moto watch. It was stuck on September 1, and though the hands still went round, the date function was broke.
I should’ve taken it as a sign.
(iii)
We didn’t go through Grand Junction, though a part of me wanted to see what kind of matriarchal society they had created for themselves. But the less normal people knew about our movements, the better.
Jenny Bell Scheutz had died ’cause of us.
We skirted the walled city of Grand Junction and biked past Palisade. Pedaled through Parachute, Colorado, lying picked clean on I-70’s dirt, the asphalt all cooked into road coal. We continued to travel during the early morning hours and late into the evening. It wasn’t so much for the satellites spying down on us from the atmosphere but more to avoid Aces and the Glenwood Springs anomaly.
We didn’t see any folks on the road or in the towns. To quote Rachel, we saw the true meaning of “a disruption of regional traffic.”
The Rockies were getting serious now, peaks trying to pierce holes in the sky even as the Colorado River ran low, readying itself for winter.
During a break, I pulled Micaiah aside and asked him about the hogs.
He didn’t blink and told me everything. “I took several canisters of the Gulo Gamma with me on the zeppelin, to use as proof of my father’s research. I thought they’d been destroyed in the crash, but it appears not. It appears as if June Mai’s soldiers found them. And opened them and then ...” he paused. “Their DNA was most likely altered from the exposure. Yes, they can heal most any wound, but if they are like previous experiments, they become exceedingly violent. We think it was the research into testosterone that created the problem.” He still had enough emotion to smile a little. “Maybe like men, their mental capacities begin to wane until they are left completely psychotic, which is why my father had to do all of his research in secret.”
Inferno Girls Page 17
