Daugher of Ash

by Matthew S. Cox

  Esteban would’ve fainted if a hovercar with police lights landed in St. Louis.

  She thumbed the rubberized grip, daydreaming about how it felt to have Ahmed behind her, arms around her waist, talking her through how to ride. Her whimsical mood turned maudlin. One didn’t have to be an empath to sense him having more than a basic interest in her; though, had he? Or had twenty-five years of being unable to touch anyone made her see things that didn’t exist? It had to be that… or just the way men tripped all over themselves to be nice to a woman like her. A woman so beautiful no man would believe she’d even talk to them. Kate grumbled at the scientists who made her ‘too perfect.’

  Alone, the bike’s handling was more responsive, and the first half hour had been nerve-wracking. Any slight movement translated in big ways to the bike. Eventually, trepidation gave way to adrenaline, and she sped up even more.

  For a while, she forgot about how excited she felt at the thought of having Esteban touch her and wallowed in the glory of being able to operate a vehicle. She felt like a kid with a new toy, even playing with the emergency lights and siren. Since the bikes were sent into the middle of nowhere, someone had the foresight to pre-load the Navcon with old maps of the interior. While it couldn’t anticipate the current conditions of the roads, it did plot a course east along a highway named 40. The route line branched northeast to another road labeled 44. As far as the computer knew, it had chosen the most efficient way there―whether or not the roads it wanted her to take still existed. Not to mention, she had no way to know what waited in any of the old cities.

  The system estimated about nine hours if she held her current 120 mph. Kate blinked, surprised that she’d gotten to that speed without noticing. Her body locked up with panic at what a single inopportune hole could do. Ahmed’s voice in her head yelled not to hit the front brake first. She made that mistake once. Without his weight behind her, she’d flip if she repeated it. A gentle squeeze at the brake lever caused the number to drop. Cruising at eighty felt like a standstill, but dead girls couldn’t have boyfriends.

  Shattered countryside blurred by for hours, interrupted by the occasional strange sight. An abandoned trailer, crashed and burned vehicles, a ceremonially stacked pile of skeletons, and a pyramid of blue chemical barrels were the most memorable. An hour past noon, two bears chased her for a short while, but lost interest when she left them in the dust. The shadowy presence of a dead city loomed up ahead, the point where the Navcon indicated she needed to find road 44. Unsettled by the appearance of it, as well as an eerie feeling something was wrong, Kate decided to slow to about fifteen mph and take the bike off the highway. The iron skeletons of ancient buildings ahead held too many places to hide, too many shadows, and radiated an inexplicable sense of hostility. With only an hour or two before nightfall, she wanted to be as far away from the abandoned metropolis as she could manage by the time the sun went down.

  Eventually, with the help of the Navcon and a few lucky guesses, she found an on-ramp labeled 44 and got back on course. Travel slowed due to car-sized fragments of paved earth tossed about like broken dice. She walked the bike past the worst of it, getting back up to fifty when the debris thinned. Spent shell casings, bones, and char marks littered the paving on the far side. Based on the amount of damage, she got the sense the debris had been set up as part of an ambush.

  As the sun weakened in the western sky, she passed a large vehicle that resembled a self-powered house trailer. She squeezed the brake again and steered off the road, circling back toward it. Maybe I can sleep in that for the night.

  When she got about sixty meters away, a pack of men and a muscular, shrieking woman ran out the door and piled into a trio of raider buggies. Kate hit the brakes and twisted the handlebars, sending the bike skidding around in a sideways slide that kicked up a wall of dirt. Once she pointed back at the road, she hit the accelerator and straightened out. The spectral whine of electric motors teased at being noticeable over the buzz of approaching ethanol engines. She caught a few inches of air as she hit the edge of the paving, and landed into the start of a wobble. Warning lights flashed on the bike as the auto-compensator forced her to slow down, attempting to correct the stability issue. Kate screamed at it, risking a peek over her shoulder at the buggies, which gained ground.

  Varying degrees of damage scarred the highway; stretches of pristine road could give way without warning to barely navigable piles of rubble and sometimes a hole big enough to eat her ride whole.

  The raiders flew out of a dust cloud, leaving the dirt access road behind. Tires squeaked and skidded on paving. Kate kept twisting the accelerator, terrified at the sensation of the vehicle ignoring her attempts to steer or control. A wooden projectile clattered on the road to her left. The man in the middle buggy reloaded a crossbow.

  “You’re shitting me…” She glanced at her speed, a sluggish twenty mph. “Fuck. Go!”

  The lead buggy aimed right for her, intending to ram. That fear overrode her aversion to merely dumping the bike, and she brought her left hand around to the rear, a fireball forming between her fingers. Before she could hurl it, the compensation routine ended and the bike lurched forward, as she still had the right grip twisted down. The buggy’s front end came within six feet of her back tire before the electric motorbike rocketed up to over a hundred. Fire tamped out under her palm as she clutched the handlebars in an effort not to fly off.

  Ahead, a scattering of Corporate War era military vehicles lay on either side of the road, most with large holes blown in their sides. A minefield of deep gouges in the paving caused her to slam on the brakes less than a minute later, screaming. Luck got her past the first few before she slowed enough to slalom the hazards. One crater she skirted by inches contained the ruined fins of an unexploded bomb, something likely dropped by an airplane centuries ago.

  One buggy bounced into an end-over-end tumble and eventual fireball when its nose end found a divot. The center one made it through, while the last driver went off-road to avoid the danger, his engine choking on dust. On the far side of the stretch of shredded paving, the highway looked intact for as far as she could see. Against her better judgment, Kate squeezed the grip and pushed the bike up near two hundred miles per hour. The blast of speed almost took her out of the seat. She leaned down and forward, clinging to the frame with every bit of strength in her body.

  Both buggies vanished into the setting sun behind her. She sat rigid, staring at the rear-view screen for a minute. Feeling hopeful her pursuers would understand they had no hope of catching up to her, she relaxed and looked up. When she noticed the speed display creeping up on 280, she screamed and eased off the accelerator, letting the bike coast. The electric motors went silent, leaving her with a feeling like flying low to the ground. Her gaze locked on the white numbers over a sky blue display, watching them tick down. Once she’d slowed below 150 mph, she teased at the brake. Any upcoming irregularity in the road could be deadly, and only a little while of daylight remained. According to the Navcon, she was in the eastern section of a region once called Oklahoma.

  She rolled to a stop and put one boot on the road, panting. Draped over the handlebars, shaking from the aftereffect of terror, she found herself giggling at the feeling of wearing shoes. When that wore off, she sat up and looked around for cover. The darkness made it difficult to see anything, though the mosquito-whine of an ethanol engine brought her attention to the rear.

  “Really?” She sighed. “I guess I’m about to become a cog in the evolutionary process.”

  One buggy had not given up. The huge woman clung to the back, swinging a chain around over her head with some kind of heavy sphere at the end. Kate smirked and yanked the pistol off her hip. Bike with lights and sirens, and you give me a gun… You’re really trying to convince me, David. She squinted, grinned, and put her finger on the trigger, making it chirp. The faint whirr-click of a caseless round locking into firing position followed.

  Kate held the pistol with both hands,
one eye looking over the sights. Her aim rose and fell to match the approaching buggy as it went over tiny swells and dips in the road. She suppressed how silly it felt to point a handgun at a vehicle, but remembered the modern firearm would probably put a slug completely through a buggy made out of centuries-old materials.

  Ahmed’s voice all but whispered in her ear about breath control. The first shot went off before she expected it; the electric trigger had a travel distance less than one millimeter. The next seven or eight came in a rapid series. At least one bullet pierced the front end, the driver, the fuel tank, and hit the engine. The buzz cut out with a sputter, leaving everything quiet except for the squeak of ill-maintained wheels. White smoke billowed forth for seconds before the vehicle burst into invisible alcohol flames. Kate grinned, feeling the pyroclasm in the back of her mind. She called out to it, pouring psionic effort into building it.

  Blamf.

  The entire fuel tank went up with a blooming roar, ensconcing the buggy in a cloud of light for several seconds. A smoking figure leapt from the back, tumbling in the dirt as the buggy drifted off the road and rolled to its final death in a ditch. Bouncing like a stone, a strange weapon skidded to a halt a few yards away, trailing a length of jingling chain. The sphere had three finger-sized holes packed with crud, and deep gouges in its pearlescent-red shell held dried blood.

  Kate started to put the pistol away, but snapped her arm up as the giantess stood. A tumble on the road left her scratched and bleeding, but alive. Aside from a mild limp, she appeared not to have suffered a serious injury.

  “Go away.” Kate took aim. Wow, I must be in a great mood. She wiggled her toes. I have shoes!

  Armor made of leather and scraps of truck tires would do nothing against a modern pistol. Despite that, the wild woman drew a pair of knives from her belt and continued staggering closer. A shot into the road nearby failed to dissuade her.

  “Seriously?” Kate scoffed, gazing at the emerging moon. “For the first time in my life, I’m trying not to kill and I run into a psycho.”

  She holstered the pistol and held aloft a fireball. Glee at her almost-normality lent her a wicked smile. At the sight of the flames, the approaching raider stopped. Kate held the burning orb higher.

  “Leave.” She waved it about, as if trying to scare off a wild animal.

  “Mine,” groaned the woman, pointing at the length of chain.

  How many people has she killed? Kate frowned. Like I’m any kind of judge. “Take it. One step too close and you’re dead.”

  The woman put her knives away and edged closer, eyeing Kate as though she were some manner of demonic creature. She retrieved the improvised flail and dragged it backward several steps before breaking into a full-on limping run. Once the woman was out of sight, Kate shut off the headlamp and crept north away from the road for several minutes, walking the bike.

  She chose a decent spot to rest for the night and opened the cargo pod on the back left of the bike. After unpacking a sleeping bag, she sat cross-legged on top of it and took a ration pack from the pod. Her mouth watered merely from looking at the plastic. Some of the locals in Querq had given her odd looks the first time she’d touched food after Althea had cured her. What had to be the most mundane of meals to them, a bean and cheese burrito, had gotten her making noises that sounded more appropriate for the bedroom.

  “UCF Enhanced Field Ration – 11V. Spicy chicken vindaloo.” She regarded the plain-grey plastic pouch for a second, shrugged, and tore it open.

  An assortment of smaller packets fell into her lap, the entrée landing with an audible plop. She gingerly peeled the top strip away and held it under her nose. A complex aroma of spices got the inside of her nostrils tingling. She disregarded the pitiful little plastic spoon, and squeezed some of the ‘vindaloo’ onto her tongue. A new kind of burn filled her mouth, but it came from flavor not fire.

  Taste.

  She didn’t have to suck it down before it charred.

  Kate closed her eyes and sat still, savoring the texture of chicken mashing apart in an ocean of exotic spices. When she swallowed, she waited a moment to let the essence of it settle before squeezing another mouthful from the packet. The thought of Esteban feeding her got her giggling, and deepened her need to hold him close.

  David told her these rations were one rung up the ladder from cat food. He’d offered to take her to a ‘real’ Indian place back in the city someday. She swallowed, unsure how to feel about him. Having a body designed to be gorgeous had its downsides. Almost every man (and a fair number of women) she came into contact with made passes at her. Yet another reason she’d kept to herself in the black zones, avoiding more reminders of what she couldn’t have.

  Had Officer David Ahmed been more than friendly or did she imagine that glint in his eye?

  Kate took her time with the remainder of the ration pack, including the (according to David) sad, sad excuse for naan bread and plum sauce. After, she removed only her boots and settled in for the night, adoring the feeling of being wrapped chin to toe in cloth.

  “That was rather charitable of you.”

  Kate’s eyes snapped open. The man’s voice had come from behind her. She sat up, pushing the sleeping bag down around her waist. A wiry figure wearing a long, dark leather duster coat sauntered around the back of the motorcycle, adjusting a wide-brimmed hat. Despite the change in clothing, she recognized the face of the old priest.

  Hard, red eyes shifted toward her, peering out from deepened sockets. His rotting grin broadened, the smell made her regret eating. A palpable air of dissatisfaction surrounded him.

  “She was no threat. I had nothing to gain by killing her.”

  His boot heel ground the dirt as he swiveled to face her. “Since when have you hesitated at taking life?”

  “It was a waste of energy.”

  “Oh, I see.” He paced around to the right. “A few minutes with the abomination and your entire outlook changes? I thought you had more resolve. I am disappointed in you.”

  Kate squirmed out of the cloth cocoon and reached for her boots. “You lied.”

  “The creature does not belong in this world.” He wheezed with a chuckle, gesturing at the bike. “Playing policewoman now? A gun, a motorcycle, and some dime store morals?”

  “Althea’s not a creature. She is the most innocent person I’ve ever seen. Even after I stormed in ready to kill her, she helped me without expecting anything in return.”

  The decrepit gunslinger coughed as if attempting not to vomit. “You really do believe them, don’t you?” He spat.

  “You can’t fake that.” Kate used the memory of Althea’s smile to ease her fear.

  “Those police are no better than the ones who grew you in a bowl of slime. All they want is to use your power. You could be so much more.”

  “If Althea is lying, why didn’t she demand payment? You offered to fix me, but wanted me to murder a little girl first.”

  His eyes glowed red for an instant. “She’s not what she appears.”

  “I’m not inclined to believe you.” Fire swirled into a sphere over her right hand.

  The man held his arms out to the sides. “If it will make you feel better, go right ahead. If it will make you angry, by all means do it twice.”

  To foil his bluff, Kate looked for surface thoughts. Many thousand scenes of death swam in her mind: screaming civilians buried under collapsing buildings, military vehicles rolling over a sea of corpses, followed by soldiers stomping on the dead. Aircraft dropped bombs on panicking citizens. When the smoke cleared, men in grey corporate uniforms shot people lined up against a wall. Disembodied children’s voices cried for their mothers and fathers, older voices shouted random names. The pain, fear, loss, and rage of a nation’s worth of people rippled over her in a few seconds.

  She came to lying on her side, curled fetal and crying.

  “Now, that I was not expecting,” said the old man. “You see them. You see that of which I am made. I am their ve
ngeance.”

  “H-how…” Kate pushed herself up to sit. “All those people… how can you justify killing Althea? She had nothing to do with any of that.”

  “It does not belong here. Part of her soul…” He snarled. “It is pointless; you will not see the truth of it, blinded as you are by your sense of gratitude. Another fool, placated into subservience.” Vengeful wrinkles flattened to a conspiratorial smile. “It matters little. You have nowhere else to go and still be free.”

  “I am free.” Kate forced her way out from under the emotional aftermath of the brief visions. “More free than I’ve ever been.”

  “In my realm, you could rule. Your power could make you a queen.”

  “First, I have no interest in ruling a bunch of monosyllabic barbarians that have to flip a coin to decide between eating or fucking what they find. Second, you honestly think I’d believe you’d let anyone have power out here?”

  He passed behind her, spurs rattling, and emerged on her left. “You are mortal. For the time you have left, you could know ultimate power. I am but an influence on the world. I do not rule. When your life ends, you will join us… Your rage is only hiding, but it remains who you are.”

  “It was you.” Kate pointed, arm trembling. “You were what made me so angry in Querq. As soon as I saw her, I knew it was wrong, but the hate kept coming. You’re doing it again.”

  Dry air vibrated with a chuckle from deep within his throat. “A fast learner.”

  “I guess this is where you break my motorcycle or something, right?”

  The old man gave the machine a sideways glance, dry lips tightening over rotten teeth. “No… I think I’ll pass. You’ve someone waiting in St. Louis. Why would I get in the way of true love?”