Shattered Lands

by ALICE HENDERSON

  “I’ve been worried. I expected to hear from you before now. Chadwick and I waited for hours, but a PPC airship started patrolling the area, and we had to get out of there. Are you all okay?”

  “Yes. We had a bit of trouble on our way out.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “At a weather shelter.” She sent him the coordinates off the PRD. “What about you? Did you make it out with the spacecraft section?”

  “I did, and I returned it to Sanctuary City. Rivet is starting to piece the sections together. It’s a steep learning curve, and from what she’s told me, we need a whole other separate craft and nuclear device to make this thing work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have to arm it with a nuclear payload, then find a way to launch it into space. The spacecraft itself is something that isn’t capable of that. From the data disks we’ve been studying, they used these massive rockets to carry things like it into space.”

  “Do these rockets still exist?”

  “We don’t know. Onyx is still poring over the data you brought from the university in New Atlantic. A lot of it is corrupted, and we’re still piecing things together as she repairs each new disk.” He looked over her shoulder at the ruined cityscape. “How are the others?”

  “A bit worse for wear, but in pretty good spirits.”

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re all okay. I felt terrible leaving you like that.” He talked to someone offscreen, then returned to her. “Let me go talk to Gordon and get an ETA for when we can retrieve you.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  The comm window flashed off.

  She sat, watching how the heat waves distorted the buildings around her. Above, the sky was pale blue, not a single cloud in sight. Sweat beaded on her brow, but the heat felt good on her aching arm. She rubbed it, and flexed her elbow.

  She wondered how Rowan was faring setting up the new Badlander camp. She felt distant from him after everything she’d just been through in Delta City and the Death Rider camp.

  The image of Olivia’s face flashed in her mind. Once again Willoughby had come through for her. She wanted to call him, to confront him with what Olivia had told her. Her whole life she’d thought she was raised solely in the child-rearing ward by caregivers, wondering who her parents were. Since she was a worker and not a citizen, that meant she’d never know. At least citizens could see their parents’ avatars and interact with them over the media streams. But workers had no such luxury. They weren’t connected to the network, and their lives were structured solely around the tasks they were required to perform.

  Part of her ached to think she had parents who cared about her. But to find out that she had a mother only to learn she’d died in a horrible way made her heart pang with a crushing loneliness. She lifted the PRD to call Willoughby, but hesitated.

  Finally, she opened the comm window.

  He answered with an affable grin. “You made it.” The relief in his voice was thick.

  “Thanks to you.” She looked behind him. He was in his new office in Delta City, she guessed, replete with an elaborately painted vase on a shelf to his rear. “Are they on to you?”

  “I don’t think so. I replaced the media feeds I cut into with transmissions from BEC City. We’ve been receiving more and more of their broadcasts, so I think it went unnoticed.”

  She wrinkled her brow, unsure how to begin.

  “What is it?”

  She decided to just plunge in. “While I was in that exec’s office, she told me some things.”

  Willoughby went pale. “What did she say?”

  H124 swallowed. She had a racing heart, and a sudden lump in her throat. She longed to have a family, but if what that woman said was true, that Willoughby had murdered her mother, everything was about to change, and in a bad way. She decided to start with the easiest part. “That she was my grandmother.”

  He looked away, biting his lip. “I see.”

  “And that you . . . you are my father.”

  He let out a guttural sound, an outburst of air, and brought his hand to his face.

  “Is it true?”

  He remained still, hand pressed to his face, until he finally lowered it. “Yes. I should have told you sooner. But . . . I was worried what would happen if word got out . . . if Olivia knew you had survived. I wanted to tell you, just you, secretly, but by then it felt like I should have told you sooner, and . . .” He trailed off.

  She swallowed again, ready to drop the bomb. “She said you killed my mother.”

  Willoughby gawked at her, mouth agape. “No! Absolutely not! I loved your mother. I helped her get out of here.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Let me tell you what happened.”

  H124 looked over her shoulder at the weather shelter. Everyone was still inside, but she wanted privacy. Walking a block away, she sat down in the shade of a collapsed building and leaned back against the warm concrete. “Okay.”

  “I met your mother in Delta City. I was a junior exec there, just starting to make shows. Your mother, Juliet, was very high up in the PPC because of Olivia’s status. We grew close.” He met her gaze. “And we had you.”

  Unwelcome tears came to her eyes.

  “But Olivia was cruel and controlling. She didn’t want Juliet to be with me. As my shows grew more successful, New Atlantic started to woo me. They wanted me to move there. We saw it as the perfect chance to get away from Olivia. Juliet was a news gatherer, normally relegated to digging up gossip for the media streams. But she was onto a story. It was big, and involved the PPC.

  “One night, she was supposed to meet with an informant. Juliet had forgotten her PRD at Olivia’s office, so I went there after hours to retrieve it. I had you with me. Olivia’s desk was locked, but I hacked it. And I found more than just Juliet’s PRD. Inside a drawer was a handwritten obituary for Juliet, saying she’d died tragically in an autotransport crash, and that Olivia was taking consolation in raising you as her own after I had moved on to New Atlantic.

  “I immediately called Juliet. She was waiting for the autotransport to arrive. I told her not to get inside, begged her to wait until we got there.” Here he paused, blinking more rapidly. averting his watery eyes.

  H124 waited as he gathered his thoughts.

  “Back then the autotransports were known for being faulty, often delivering people to the wrong address. While they weren’t known to malfunction and crash, I knew no one would think it was too odd if one did. Olivia’s plan was a good one. I’m not proud of this, but I didn’t know what else to do. I got two dead bodies from an alley, a woman and a baby. I met up with Juliet, and we stowed the bodies inside the transport. It wasn’t a block away when it exploded, burning the bodies beyond recognition. I helped Juliet to the wall and got her out of Delta City using an outside contact we had. It was going to be a dangerous journey, so we decided that you should stay with me. I hid you. The next day, I was told of the terrible accident which claimed you and your mother. I played the bereaved husband, then left for New Atlantic as soon as I could, taking you with me.

  “The story your mom was working on had something to do with Olivia arranging the street purges where people were rounded up and taken to the food processing centers. But she wasn’t able to get the proof she needed before she left.

  “In New Atlantic, I entered you into the worker program. It was the most anonymous thing I could do with you. I didn’t want you to be a citizen, to be installed with a head jack, like a mindless sheep. But I couldn’t keep you with me because Olivia would realize what we knew, and would come after both of us.

  “People disappear all the time, after all . . . Repurposers come and . . .” He sighed. “I don’t know if what I did was right by you. I kept an eye on you all these years. Wanted to make contact with you. When I saw it was you in the PPC tower lobby that
night, I came down immediately.”

  H124 let his story sink in. “What about my mother?”

  He exhaled. “I wish I knew. Our contact was supposed to keep her safe. But when I left for New Atlantic and stopped by his place . . .” His voice trailed off.

  H124 waited.

  Willoughby pressed on. “He’d been murdered. She wasn’t there. May have been Death Riders passing through. He’d been burned alive.”

  “And you didn’t find her?”

  His weary gaze settled on his daughter. “No. I never did.”

  She exhaled. “So she could still be out there? Alive?”

  He pressed his lips together grimly. “I don’t think so, kid.” He fell silent. “I’m sorry,” he added at last.

  She shook her head, trying to absorb it all. “Me too.”

  They sat quietly for a while, collecting their thoughts.

  Finally he cleared his throat. “So what’s the status of the quest?”

  She took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes. “We have two pieces now. One more to go.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Do you think you’ll be safe there now?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at his office door. “I think so. For now.”

  “Thank you for telling me what happened. I’m . . .” She wanted to say that she was glad to know him, but she was overwhelmed at the thought of actually knowing her father, and words wouldn’t come.

  “Me too,” he finished for her.

  They said their goodbyes, and she shut down the comm window. She then trudged back through the heat to the weather shelter, where she took a seat at the top of the stairs. She wasn’t ready to go back in there with the others.

  Moments later the door opened, and Byron climbed up. He sat down next to her, observing her somber demeanor. “Did you talk to Willoughby?”

  She nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “It’s true. Part of it, anyway. He’s my father.”

  Byron raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

  She laid her elbows on her knees, and her cheeks in her palms. “It doesn’t feel real. I didn’t think I’d ever know who my parents were.”

  “And the rest?”

  “He said it was Olivia who arranged for my mother’s murder. Her own daughter. Willoughby helped her escape, but he lost touch with her after.”

  “So she could still be out there somewhere?”

  H124 looked at him. “Willoughby doesn’t think so. He thinks she might have been killed.” She saw Byron gazing out over the ruined city, eyes squinting in the glare. “What about your parents?” she asked. “Do you know them?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Oh, uh . . . yeah. I knew them.”

  She noticed the past tense. “What were they like?”

  A smile flickered on his face. “My mom was a total badass. Best fighter I’ve ever seen. I learned a lot from her.” He gave a small chuckle. “My dad couldn’t have been more different. He liked to illustrate stories. He had this crazy idea that he could depict the entire history of the Badlanders in a series of murals. They’re still up there, in the north country. I saw them just a couple years ago. He’d just finished them when . . .” Byron went quiet.

  “When?” she asked.

  He looked away, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced. She watched his nails turn white as he pressed his hands together. “A PPC attack. My dad tried to lead them away from me and my mom. He was killed outright.” Byron looked down, kicking at a little pebble on the stair.

  “And your mom?”

  “She was hurt. Bad. We knew there was a satellite PPC location, a place where troops could restock supplies and weapons. I thought if I could just get her to the medpod there I could heal her.

  “Another Badlander helped me load her into his car, and we raced over there. The troopers were gone, deployed somewhere. We thought the outpost was empty, and started hacking the lock. But then a voice spoke to us. It was some visiting media exec. They used to go out there to assess areas for possible transmitter sites. Every time we hacked the door code, he changed it from the other side. I begged him to let us in, to save my mom. Promised him we wouldn’t hurt him. But he . . . he laughed. He said that vermin like us deserved to die. I pounded on the door, begging him. Then the Badlander called me over to his jeep. She had passed away.” He turned his face away, bouncing his leg under his elbows. His wiped his eyes roughly with one sleeve, and faced her. “We could have saved her. If that asshole had let us in, she’d still be alive.”

  H124 placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He reached up, laying his hand upon hers. He wiped his eyes again on his shirt. “Thanks. Hey,” he said, changing the subject. “I got a hold of Marlowe. She’s not that far away. She says she can come get us. Drop us off at that hyperloop you were telling us about.”

  H124 remembered Marlowe, the incredible helicopter pilot who’d risked her life to retrieve her and Gordon off the mountain. It would be good to see her again.

  “You get a hold of Raven?” he asked.

  She nodded. “He made it back to Sanctuary City with the spacecraft section.” She told Byron about the additional tasks ahead of them, such as finding the nuclear device and launch vehicle.

  He put his head in his hands. “Just when I think we’re winning.”

  Her PRD beeped. She opened the comm window. “Gordon says he can leave within the hour,” Raven said. “So sit tight.”

  “Actually, I think we have a different way home. Marlowe can take us to the hyperloop. Can you send me co-ords to the one that leads to Sanctuary City?”

  “Of course.” Seconds later, the coordinates arrived on her PRD. “I guess I’ll see you all soon. We’ll have a big meal waiting for you when you get back. Good luck.” Raven signed off.

  They spent the rest of the day lounging around the weather shelter in the cool air, playing cards and talking. Toward evening, the sound of Marlowe’s helicopter filtered into the shelter. They gathered their belongings and moved outside.

  Marlowe touched down out front, and climbed down from the cockpit. She walked over to them, her tall, lanky frame a welcome sight. They all hugged her like an old friend, and H124 thanked her again for her daring mountain rescue.

  Marlowe looked a little shy, then smiled, her white teeth brilliant against her mahogany skin. “No problem.”

  They piled into the helicopter, and she took off, banking to the west. They arrived at the hyperloop entrance an hour later, and thanked Marlowe once more as she departed back to her nearby Badlander camp.

  Once inside the hyperloop, H124 slept most of the way back to Sanctuary City. She woke a few times, gazing sleepily around the hyperloop pod, seeing Astoria and Dirk playing cards at one point, and Byron sleeping a few rows over, sprawled across the empty seats.

  When they reached the end of the line in Sanctuary City, the door opened to reveal a familiar face.

  “Rowan!” she said, hurrying toward him. His face lit up, blue eyes glittering beneath his crop of spiky blond hair. When he embraced her she breathed in his welcome scent.

  “Thought you could use a little help up here.”

  Dirk and Byron clasped his hand warmly. “Firehawk,” Byron said. “You get everyone settled into their new digs?”

  Rowan nodded, grinning. “The new place is secure. It’s looking real good down there. You’re all welcome anytime you need a place to stay.”

  Astoria actually smiled and hugged him. “Thanks,” she said. H124 wondered how long they’d known each other, and if Astoria might even treat her to a smile at some point.

  In the heart of the underground tunnels everything was just as she remembered it, a comforting sight. People bustled about the de-extinction lab, the forests above, and the food preparation area below. She passed labs with signs that read Che
mistry, Biology, Med Lab, Oceanography, Meteorology. At the last one, she poked her head in the door and introduced herself to the meteorologist, Nimbus, who was busy studying some weather patterns off the eastern Pacific. “Thanks for the hurricane data,” she told the scientist. “Really came in handy.”

  The woman rose from her seat, her wavy black hair cascading down her back. A smile lit up her bronze face. “So you’re H124?”

  They shook hands.

  “How’s it going?” H124 asked her, gesturing at the display she’d been working at.

  Nimbus sat back down in her chair. “Good. Interesting. Well, not good. Bad. Bad news, as usual. But interesting. Eastern Pacific is really warming up. Looks like we might get some hurricane activity down by Baja. Worse this time around, and the last few were absolute decimators.”

  H124 could feel the hive mind buzzing around her, everyone doing research and trying to improve things in a collective for good. For knowledge. The stark contrast between this place and the megacities was staggering.

  “Where are you off to?” Nimbus asked.

  “To find Raven. See how they’re progressing with piecing the spacecraft together.”

  Nimbus nodded. “Enjoy! Hasta luego.”

  H124 continued down the hall. She found Raven, Rowan, and Dirk in Orion’s office. As she entered, Raven turned and beamed. “We’ve got some amazing news, H.”

  Just then Astoria peeked her head in. “I’ve just come from the engineering lab. Your engineer is named Rivet. Your meteorologist is Nimbus.” She stifled a laugh. “What is your chef called? Fork? Saucepan?” She looked at Orion. “You’re the astronomer, right? What’s your name? Planet?”

  “Orion,” he said, looking nonplussed.

  “We choose our own names,” Raven said.

  “So I noticed. You got a Dr. Rusty Scalpel?” She ducked out of the room, sniggering. They could hear her laugh echoing down the corridor.

  Orion and Dirk sat at a display table together, calculations spread out before them. Dirk pored over them, moving numbers and adjusting equations.

  “So what’s this amazing news?” H124 asked.

  Raven turned to Orion. “You tell her.”