Shattered Lands

by ALICE HENDERSON

  One of them leapt, landing on top of the shield. Dirk staggered under the weight, and the shield toppled, trapping him beneath. They prowled around his exposed feet, so he kicked at them. Managing to stand once more, he kept pivoting, moving closer to the lumbering mechanical insect.

  He edged backward, keeping the shield between him and the night stalkers and his back to the machine. When he got within a couple feet of one of the legs, he pressed the button that extended the shield into the ground.

  Then he spun inside the shield, and jumped onto the robot’s leg. He climbed it, using toe and finger holds in the framework.

  The machine spun, trying to throw him off, batting the shield to the ground. But Dirk continued to climb. The night stalkers howled and leaped, trying to reach him. One of them started to climb up, but Dirk kicked it in the head. He kept climbing, reaching the top of the insect.

  H124 watched him tear into a control panel, removing a mess of wires, circuits, and control crystals. The insect thrashed and started to run, trying to buck him off, but Dirk planted his boots inside the framework and held tight, his fingers twisting wires and adjusting the crystals.

  The night stalkers ran along the base of the robot, trying to jump onto it. It spun in circles, and for a moment all Dirk could do was hang on.

  H124 remained pinned against the wall. The machine ran toward her now, as Dirk’s fingers went back to work. It stretched out a pincer to grab her shield, but the claw stopped in midair. She heard it power down, and the whirring gears slow. Then it stopped altogether.

  The night stalkers howled and leapt around its feet. Two of them grabbed on to its legs and started climbing again, eager to reach Dirk. Then the machine powered up once more. Dirk held a number of wires, and made them touch. The pincers swung around, plucking up the night stalkers and flinging them off.

  “Ha!” Dirk yelled triumphantly. The third stalker darted away warily. Dirk wheeled the machine around, grabbing a predator in each pincer. He flung them high into the stands, and H124 heard Death Riders screaming as the creatures landed among them. He picked up the third and sent it sailing into the crowd as well. She watched it fall on a fleeing group, blood spraying up from its claws as it landed.

  H124 disengaged the magnets and let the shield drop. She raced over to the cage as Dirk lowered the pincers to grip the bars. He tore the gate away. As prisoners streamed onto the field, Byron ran up to H124, wrapping his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

  She grinned. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  They ran back in the cage and picked up Astoria, who was just coming to.

  “You should have seen your brother!” Byron told her. “What a badass!”

  “Dirk? What, they hit you with a hallucinogen or something?” she mumbled.

  They quickly made for the mechanical insect, and Byron helped H124 climb onto its back. Astoria soon joined them.

  Dirk spun it around, making it face the wall. It climbed over the barricade, moving up through the stands. Death Riders scattered beneath its sharp, spiked legs.

  The stands went up and up, but at last they crested them, climbing into the open. The open desert awaited them below. Dirk motored the creature over the edge. The drop-off was steep, so he gripped the edge of the arena, lowering the insect as far as he could down the wall. “Hold on!” He released the back legs, and they plunged downward, coming to a jarring landing below. H124 almost lost her grip, but Byron held on to her.

  Behind her, she could still hear the screams of the Death Riders as the night stalkers tore through them. Again Byron pointed the way toward the weather shelter, and Dirk wasted no time crossing the terrain, speeding away from the arena. To her rear, she saw the sprawl of the Death Rider camp, banners flapping, more spiked skulls mounted along the perimeter.

  They crested a dusty hill and passed down the other side, and the Death Rider camp fell out of view. As the wind streamed through her hair, H124 let out a nervous laugh. It was just her and her friends again, back on their mission.

  Chapter 16

  The heat was intolerable as it rose up from the brown, caked ground. Waves shimmered off the flat expanse of earth, miles of dead terrain stretching out in every direction. H124’s legs were sore from her cramped spot atop the metal insect, and everyone had fallen into their own silent world.

  They’d traveled through the night, not once daring to stop. Now the heat had returned with the sun.

  Sometimes they passed through the remains of long dead settlements. She saw the ubiquitous red-winged horse buildings that seemed to be in so many of these old towns. They passed the remnants of endless multi-doored structures, some with signs that still faintly read M-O-T-E-L, but most had fallen symbols that had weathered away.

  Her arm had swollen up, but they had nothing to treat it with. Nothing to even clean the wound. She tried to block out the pain. She had never been so thirsty. Her head was pounding, and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Her mind drifted to Delta City and her meeting with Olivia. Was it all true?

  “Hey Halo,” Byron said, cutting into her thoughts. “You in a trance?”

  She looked over at him, wondering how much she should say. She adjusted her position so that she could face him. “Back in Delta City, the PPC exec they took me to said some really intense things.”

  “Like what?”

  H124 brought a hand to her forehead. She wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Was it that bad?”

  She ran her hand down her face. “She told me she was my grandmother, and that Willoughby was my father.”

  “Willoughby? The PPC guy who helped us out?”

  She nodded. “But she also said Willoughby killed my mother.”

  Byron started. “Wait—I thought you were a worker in New Atlantic. Did you even know your parents?”

  She shook her head, bewildered. “No. The whole thing’s crazy.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  H124 looked off into the distance. Her gut didn’t feel right about the woman. “No,” she said at last. “I don’t think I do.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Talk to Willoughby when I get my head together, I guess.”

  As the power cells on the mechanical insect started to deplete, Astoria and her brother spoke quietly to one another, talking of the weather shelter. Byron and H124, meanwhile, watched the scenery roll by, speculating about the history behind the structures these long dead people had built.

  They rode past a monstrous concrete sculpture depicting a four-legged animal she didn’t recognize. Its once black-and-white coat was weathered off in most places, revealing a wire understructure. Horns sprouted from its head, a small tail from its back. It stared off toward the distant hills in the west.

  “What in the world is that?” Byron mused.

  She’d seen a lot of animals with horns in the field guides, but couldn’t remember them all. Maybe the weather shelter would have more books on animals. She found herself excited at the thought of learning more. The world out here, though harsh and unforgiving, was also endlessly fascinating. She tried to picture what it must have been like for these people, living their lives out here, the land around them green and fertile, long before the intolerable heat, drought, and storms that could kill anyone who was exposed.

  “Do you think they worshipped it?” Byron mused. “Is that why they built sculptures of it?” He cocked his head in thought.

  The next town over, they passed another sculpture of the horned creature, this one even larger. It stood above a one-story building with huge fork and knife effigies standing sentinel before this forgotten place.

  “Do you think it was a sacred eating place? A communal spot of some kind?” Byron’s gaze lingered on the giant horned statue. “Maybe they gathered here to revere them.”

  “Any of this look familiar?” Dirk asked B
yron. “We getting close to the shelter?”

  Byron scanned the small, dilapidated town. “Think so. It’s been a few years.”

  The heat had grown insufferable, the air barely breathable, and H124 found herself missing the bulky heat suits they’d used when they ventured to the radar facility. Byron pointed to a toppled structure on the western side of town. “See that? That building with the old marquee?”

  H124 shielded her eyes from the sun, spotting a partially intact building ahead. It had a curved, elegant overhang out front. She could tell that it had once been a sign. Now only one letter still clung, a sideways J, held there by decades of windblown dirt.

  “I remember that place. It’s under that building.”

  Dirk steered them toward it, where they dismounted. They began searching through the rubble at once.

  “Was it this rundown when you were here?” Astoria asked Byron.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Dirk lifted a piece of fallen metal. “When were you here?”

  Byron rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while.”

  Astoria stopped digging through a pile of stones. She put her hands on her hips, and squinted in the heat. “How long ago?” she demanded.

  Byron hesitated. “I may have been about seven at the time.”

  She threw her hands up into the air. “Oh, great! So it was here, give or take twenty years ago!”

  H124 moved aside a flat, rusted piece of metal, revealing cement stairs. She spotted the familiar weather shelter icon, a blue emblem with a tornado and a figure running through a door to safety. “This is it!”

  Together they cleared the debris on the staircase until there was enough room to descend. “I don’t think anyone’s been to this shelter in a while,” Astoria said.

  H124 had to agree. The ones she’d stayed in before, when she was seeking the Rovers, had been relatively clear to access. Given the amount of moss growing in the damp, shaded space of the stairwell, this building had toppled years ago.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Byron entered a code, and the door slid open. They stepped into the confines of the shelter, and were instantly greeted by the smell of mildew. It was stiflingly hot inside, and the air hung heavy. Dirk switched on the climate control, and moments later a cool breeze blew in from the vents.

  Instead of the usual stocked shelves, only a handful of MREs greeted them. The bookcase was completely empty, and the cots in the sleeping quarters had no blankets or pillows.

  “They stopped maintaining this one,” Dirk said, speaking of the Rovers.

  “Probably because it’s too close to that Death Rider camp,” Astoria reasoned. She moved to the food shelf and pulled down a few remaining MREs. After sitting down at the dining table, she put her feet up on one of the chairs. Tearing open an MRE, she chewed it thoughtfully.

  On the bottom shelf of the bookcase, H124 spied a lock box. It was the same kind in which she’d found the old PRDs that Raven had recorded his videos on. She pulled the box out, and found two older model PRDs inside. Neither held a charge.

  She gathered them up and went outside to charge them in the sun. The heat socked her in the face.

  She set the two PRDs down on the ground and sat beside them, wilting under the brutal sun. The devices were identical to the ones she’d first found. She remembered listening to Raven talk in the videos, her nights spent hiding in shelters and driving west, trying to find the elusive Rovers, unsure if they still existed. Raven’s talks had become a comfort to her, and now she hoped with a feverish heart that he had made it away safely from Delta City with the piece of the spacecraft.

  She then heard someone come up the stairs behind her. It was Byron. He knelt beside her. “How dead are those things?”

  She looked at their power indicator lights. They weren’t even glowing yet. “Pretty dead.”

  He touched her back lightly. “And your arm?”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and lifted up her arm. She was dreading it, but she’d have to set the bone and dress it. “Hurts pretty bad, to be honest.”

  “Well, you’re in luck.”

  She looked up at him. “How so?”

  “This old shelter has a medpod. It’s a basic one, can’t do heart surgery or anything like that, but it can definitely fix your arm.”

  She perked up, and sprang to her feet. “Take me to it!”

  They returned to the shelter. Dirk and Astoria sat at the table, eating and talking. The medpod was in a corner of the sleeping area, sealed inside a closet flush with the wall. A small white cross on a red background was the only indication of its location.

  Byron pressed the symbol, and the door slid open. The medpod emerged, a tall cylinder with a glass anterior. It eased out into the room, lowering flat. It was definitely older than the ones the Rovers used now, but it looked pristine all the same.

  She lay down inside it, and the glass sealed over her. Closing her eyes as the scanner hummed over her body, she finally let her body relax. She’d been tensing every muscle for what felt like days, ready to fight at every turn.

  Now she was safe, here with her friends, the medpod quietly humming around her. It zeroed in on her arm, and she felt the brief sting of a numbing agent pricking her vein.

  Byron stood above her, watching with a warm smile.

  She felt a jerk as the clamps straightened her bone. Then came a comforting heat, seeping into her upper arm as the bone was repaired.

  She knew it would ache for a while as the final phase of convalescence took its course, but she was grateful for the speed of this method. When the medpod finished, the glass hissed open. Byron helped her out, then pressed the button so the pod could return to its cubby. She flexed her fingers. Only a thin red line where the spike had penetrated her arm marked the former wound.

  She longed to sleep, but couldn’t decide if it was food or sleep she desired more. Finally she ate an MRE, something that simulated a “broccoli and cheese pot pie.” Then she used the dry disinfectant chamber. They drank what little water was still in the shower reservoir, not wanting to waste any on bathing. It looked like this place had been in a megadrought since time immemorial. Afterward, she lay her aching body down in the sleeping room. After the others had cleaned up, they too laid down, and turned off the lights.

  She lay looking up at the ceiling in the darkened room, hearing the soft breathing of her friends in the neighboring bunks, punctuated by the occasional snort from Dirk.

  She could feel Byron’s presence in the adjacent bed, as if he were also awake. She remembered their first night together when she’d been captured by the Badlanders.

  Turning her head, she tried to see if he was asleep, but the room was too dark, and all she could discern was his quiet breathing. They’d been through hell together. He’d taken her place in the arena. At first she’d thought him a brute, a danger, but she was coming to see him as something more.

  She closed her eyes, and at last sleep found her.

  * * * *

  H124 awoke to soft voices coming from the other room. The sleeping room still lay in darkness. Stretching, she could hear that someone else still dozed in the room with her. She found her boots in the dark, and tiptoed to the door. When she opened it, light spilled in through the crack, and she turned to see Byron was sleeping on his side, hair spilling over the pillow.

  She slipped out, quietly clicking the door closed. At the table sat Dirk and Astoria, moving thin paper objects around on the table.

  She walked up to them, peering over Dirk’s shoulder. The pieces of paper had symbols and numbers on them, and both twins held some in their hands, while the rest were spread on the table. “Do you have any sevens?” asked Dirk.

  “Go fish,” his sister told him.

  “What’s this?” H124 asked.

  “Go Fish,” Astoria said, as if it
were obvious.

  “I haven’t asked you for another card yet,” her brother said.

  Astoria smirked. “I’m telling her what the game is.”

  “I mean,” H124 said, reaching out to pick up one of the flat papers in the center of the table. It was firmer than she thought. “What are these?”

  Astoria leaned back in her chair. “Oh, wow,” she said, as if H124 were truly and woefully ignorant. “They’re cards.”

  H124 turned it over in her hand. It was very thin yet sturdy, made from some kind of durable plastic-coated material. The back had an elaborate green and purple design. “They’re beautiful.”

  Astoria rolled her eyes. “Oh, jeez. They’re just cards.”

  “And you fish with them?” H124 asked, at which Dirk burst out laughing.

  “Yup,” he said, “just like my sister is about to do.”

  “You got any fives?”

  “Nope. Go fish,” he told her.

  “Let me fish!” H124 said, and pulled a card out of the center pile without looking at it. She handed it to Astoria. “Is it a good one?”

  Astoria tucked it into her hand. “What do you know. She fished my wish.” Astoria laid down the rest of her cards. Dirk threw his remaining ones into the center pile. “You always win.”

  H124 moved to the disinfectant chamber, and cleaned her teeth.

  Feeling refreshed, she went upstairs to the outside, instantly staggering in the heat wave. The two PRDs had charged in the morning sun; their power indicator lights now glowed green. She turned one on. On the videos section of the floating display, she saw copies of the talks Raven had made and distributed through the other weather shelters. Using the code that the Badlanders had developed, she used a scrambled channel to contact him.

  He answered. “H!” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Are you out of Delta City?”

  “Yes. We made it out.”