Extensis Vitae: The Shattered Land

by Gregory Mattix

  Reznik pulled the goggles over his eyes. “Ready?”

  Rin nodded and fired up her bike. They rode side-by-side along the wide stretch of dirt road that had been traversed by countless wasteland travelers in search of the only bridge for hours.

  They rode at an unhurried pace, paralleling the chasm. Reznik glanced over the side and was awed by the sight. Whereas the Grand Canyon was broad and deep, the chasm was just a sheer cliff and blackness, the sunlight having no bottom to shine on, at least as far as he could see. He wondered if the earthquake, or whatever great force had ripped the Earth open, had caused the collapse of the town they had spent the night in.

  The road pulled away from the edge, and then they began to negotiate a series of switchbacks. As they came out of one of the turns, Reznik got a view of the bridge. He saw the men moving and realized they had been seen. Play it cool, and we’ll just see what happens.

  After following a couple more switchbacks, they approached the bridge, and Reznik got a good view of it. Pylons had been driven into solid rock on each side of the crevasse. A metal span crossed the one-hundred-yard gap to the other side. Wonder who the poor SOB was who got the job of driving those pylons into the rock. Might have been robots, I suppose.

  They reached the end of the bridge and paused, watching the men at the roadblock. One man rested his elbows on the hood of one of the trucks, aiming a rifle in their direction while the other two stood in the open with weapons held casually across their chests. The last man stood in the back of the truck and followed their progress with the .50 caliber machine gun.

  Reznik glanced sideways at Rin, and she nodded. They eased the hoverbikes forward slowly.

  When they were about ten yards from the roadblock, one of the men raised a hand and stepped forward. “That’s close enough,” he yelled over the noise of the bikes.

  The two of them eased off the throttles and allowed the bikes to settle to the ground.

  “Step away from your bikes.”

  “Afternoon,” Reznik called out. He raised his hands to show that he didn’t want any trouble as he and Rin dismounted.

  The closest two men approached them. The third covered them with his rifle while the man on the .50 cal continued to aim at them.

  The man that appeared to be in charge was older, with close-cropped graying hair and a beard. He was tall and lean and wore a long-sleeved shirt rolled up at the elbows and trousers tucked into sturdy boots. He moved confidently as he looked them over, taking a quick survey of their equipment.

  The second man that approached was nearly as wide as he was tall, with a greasy mullet and goatee and a pot belly that hung over his belt. He wore suspenders and a filthy t-shirt. He had redneck written all over him.

  Both men carried battered-looking M-16s. The M-16 had already been slowly phased out back in Reznik’s time, so he was surprised to find them still in service. These guys are more robbers than anything. Poorly equipped, dirty, and desperate—just enough to where they might be a problem.

  Rin apparently came to the same decision, as Reznik could tell by the subtle way she tensed up and shifted her stance.

  “Greetings,” the older man finally said after getting a good long look at them. “Where are you headed?”

  The redneck seemed to dismiss Reznik right away and focused his attention on leering at Rin. He spat on the ground, a dark gob of what Reznik took for chew.

  “Just heading toward a town called Planter’s Ridge,” Rin said. “Any news from the east?”

  “Planter’s Ridge, huh? What’s there in Planter’s Ridge that interests you?” the older man asked.

  “We’re looking to stock up on a few supplies and visit a friend of ours,” she replied coolly.

  “You look pretty well-equipped already,” the big redneck chimed in. “Those are some nice bikes y’all got there. That’s not all that’s nice.” He studied the bike for a moment and returned his gaze to Rin’s chest.

  “Haven’t heard any news out of the east lately. Dangerous times to be traveling for just the two of you though,” the leader said.

  “You gotta make do with what you’ve got,” Reznik replied.

  “Aye, that you do. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for a toll to let you pass.”

  “Toll? There was never a toll, or a roadblock for that matter, before,” Rin said.

  “Times are tough. The resistance needs all the funds it can get.” The man almost looked apologetic. Almost.

  “Yeah, we’re gonna need to take any chips you got and those nice guns as well.” The redneck walked around the bikes and eyed Reznik’s AK-47 and the rifles sticking out of his duffel bag. “That goes for your little pin pricker too,” he said to Rin as he circled her and ogled her unabashedly.

  “I think we’ve got a problem then. We need these weapons to survive out in the wasteland. What business does the resistance have robbing innocent travelers? I thought your business was with Thorne Industries.” Rin gave them both an icy glare.

  The older man sighed. “Like I said—times are tough. We don’t want any trouble. We’ll let you keep your pistol and sword. Hand the rest over.” He raised the barrel of his rifle toward Reznik’s chest.

  “Ya know, missy, you’ve got some real pretty lips on you. Why don’t you suck me off, and you can have a pass and keep your shit today?” The redneck smirked and spat on the ground again. He moved forward and reached toward Rin as though he was going to feel her up.

  “That’s no way…” Reznik trailed off as his words became unnecessary. If he had blinked, he would have missed the action.

  Rin swatted the redneck’s hand away and drove her knee into his groin. As the man groaned and bent over, she grabbed him by the greasy mullet and pulled his head back. A slender knife blade suddenly appeared in her hand, which she held at his throat.

  The older man instinctively started swinging the barrel of his M-16 toward Rin’s sudden movement. Before he could correct his error, Reznik lunged forward and swatted the rifle out of the man’s hand. In the same motion he hauled him around by a fistful of shirt and pressed the revolver to the man’s temple.

  It was all over before the other two rebels could fire a shot. They gaped in surprise and then looked at each other, wondering how they should react.

  “Drop your weapons, you morons,” Rin said. “I’ll throw his fat ass over the side. I doubt he will be missed very much.” She began dragging the redneck by his hair toward the side of the bridge. The man whined and protested while wobbling and trying to cradle his traumatized testicles.

  “Whoa, no need to do that, lady,” the older man called out. “We’re reasonable fellas. Sorry about Carl’s behavior.” He looked over at the two still training their weapons on them. “Don’t fuck around—just drop those weapons, boys.”

  “Step over here in front of the trucks where we can see you,” Reznik snapped. The two other rebels hurriedly complied. Rin released the redneck and shoved him over by the others.

  Reznik marched the four men across the bridge and onto the road they had just come from. He knelt them down in the dirt, backs facing the bridge. “If I was inclined to have a chat with this Red Royce some time, how would I go about meeting him?”

  The four looked at each other before the older man responded. “Sir, much apologies, but we can’t give away the location of our base. You could ask in Planter’s Ridge, though. He’s got eyes and ears in most of the towns in the wasteland.”

  Reznik decided not to press them any more for answers. He had a full plate already and no time right now to seek out the rebels. Perhaps if he survived long enough to get his kill switch deactivated and complete his mission to free the slaves in Skin City, he would pursue it.

  “If any of the four of you makes a move or even looks around, I will put a bullet in your head,” he threatened, putting all the menace in his voice that he could muster. “You’re lucky. I’m going to let you live because I’m in a good mood today. Normally when some asshole shoves a gun barrel in my
face, I kill them. Not quick and easy, either. Very slowly. My extraordinary generosity is something you should look to imitate. I’m also going to let you keep your supplies and weapons. If you really are fighting for the common man, then you shouldn’t be robbing simple travelers and potential allies.”

  He nudged the redneck hard in the kidney with the toe of his boot. The man yelped in surprise.

  “And you’d do well to watch your damn mouth from now on—that’s no way to speak to a lady—especially one that can kick the shit out of you six ways from Sunday. Am I gonna have any more trouble with you dickheads?”

  A chorus of nos answered him, and satisfied, he walked back to join Rin on the bridge. “Don’t make a fucking move until you can no longer hear our bikes,” he called out.

  “A little heavy on the melodrama, no?” Rin looked amused.

  Reznik shrugged. “I think of this sort of like the Wild West. Never hurts to build up a fearsome reputation for yourself.”

  Rin actually laughed for the first time he could recall. He was shocked since he didn’t think the woman had a humorous bone in her body. Her laugh was actually quite pleasant.

  “Reznik, you’re quite the character. Let’s get going, shall we?” She just shook her head slowly as she fought to regain a straight face.

  Ha! I’m finally getting you to come out of your shell, he thought. Aloud he said, “Any time you’re ready. Ladies first.”

  They mounted up again and eased their bikes through the gaps between the trucks. He looked wistfully at the rugged-looking truck with the .50 cal. Ma Deuce, he thought enviously as he massaged his cramped lower back. It sure would be nice to be packing some more heat. And riding in a little more comfort wouldn’t hurt either.

  Reznik glanced over his shoulder a couple times as they made their way up the switchbacks heading out of the chasm. His threats must have seemed genuine, for he didn’t see the men look back even once.

  ***

  The vehicle slid to a halt in front of them in a cloud of dust. Marcus and Liu had to close their eyes and hold their breath for a minute until the dust cleared enough to see.

  Two men wearing goggles sat inside the open-bodied vehicle. It wasn’t much more than a metal skeleton holding a couple bench seats and riding around on four massive knobby tires.

  The passenger hopped out of the vehicle and approached them. The man’s clothes and skin were covered in dust. He had a bandana wrapped around his head and a lined face that had seen too much sun and wind. He held a rifle with the barrel pointed down but cautiously stopped a few steps away from them. The other man remained behind the wheel of the buggy.

  “Hello, fellas. You two seem a little out of your element out here.” The passenger put the goggles up on his forehead, revealing two clean circles around his dark eyes.

  Marcus spoke up. “Yes, it was unfortunate that we ended up out here. Would you be able to give us some water and maybe a ride to the nearest town? We can pay you, of course.” He decided it would be wise to say as little as necessary.

  “Oh, yeah?” The man looked dubious. “You don’t look like you have anything besides the shirts on your backs. In fact, the two of you are in pretty sorry shape. How would you pay us?”

  “I’ve got plenty of credits. If you have a scanner, I can transfer them to you.”

  “What makes you think Thorne credits would do us any good?” The man looked over their uniforms. “You two wouldn’t have anything to do with that explosion that happened in the night, would you?”

  “Our ship crashed,” Liu blurted out before Marcus could say anything. “We’re stuck out here and are going to die unless you help us!”

  The man studied them for a moment. “That’s probably true. What was on the ship? We were headed out to look for the crash site.”

  “Personnel carrying a scientific experiment,” Marcus said. “If you help us, you are welcome to anything you can salvage.” His mind was racing as he thought about possibly salvaging some water or weapons from the crashed drop ship. Maybe Bethany is waiting for us there! She will know what to do. I’m sure she’s been through much worse than being thirsty and stranded.

  “I don’t think anyone will stop us from salvaging what we want anyway,” the man said with a shrug. He walked over and talked in undertones to the driver of the buggy for a moment.

  Marcus looked at Liu. He was starting to get an uneasy feeling about these men. “What do you think? They look like bad news, but we’ll die out here if we don’t get their help.”

  “They’ve got the guns. Not like we can do much either way,” Liu said. “We’d better take our chances, or else we’re fucked out here on our own.”

  The man walked back over to them and smiled. “You’re in luck, fellas. We have room for two more. Hop in the back.”

  Marcus helped Liu hobble over to the vehicle. Liu pulled himself over the side and fell across the bench seat. Marcus climbed in beside him.

  The driver turned around and pointed a tactical shotgun at the two of them. He was bald with a coiled rattlesnake tattooed on his head. “Now you just have to put these on,” the first man said, holding out two sets of handcuffs. He cuffed Marcus’s wrist to the frame of the buggy and went around to the other side and did the same to Liu. He handed them a dented canteen. Marcus took it and it felt about a quarter full. He took a swig of the water and passed it to Liu. The water was warm and had a sour taste, but it helped sooth his parched throat.

  The man climbed back into the front of the buggy and turned to face them. “Don’t drink it all at once, or you are liable to puke it back up. That would be a waste of good water. Oh yeah, you might want to cover your faces—it’s about to get dusty.” The man’s smile was decidedly less friendly.

  Chapter 6

  Marcus squinted his eyes against the dust and stifled a cough. The billowing cloud of dust surrounded them again as the buggy skidded to a stop. Even with his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, Marcus’s throat was parched again, and he tasted grit in his mouth. Liu grumbled something beside him as he stirred from his uneasy slumber.

  “Holy shit, would you look at that!” The passenger, who called himself Surfer, stood up in his seat and peered ahead at the wreckage of the drop ship.

  The driver, who Surfer had called Grint although the man hadn’t spoken a word yet, grunted aloud.

  The whole hillside in front of them was blackened and charred. A canyon had been carved through the dirt and broken stone where the fuselage had landed. One wing had broken off and lay about fifty yards behind the buggy. A thin column of smoke still rose from the wreckage.

  Surfer came around to Marcus. “Let’s go, Thorne man. You’re coming with me. Your friend can stay here since he’s pretty useless on that busted ankle anyway.” He unlocked Marcus’s handcuffs and clipped them back to his belt. Marcus was propelled forward and stumbled over a piece of metal that stuck out of the ground.

  Grint got out of the driver’s seat and held his shotgun in front of him as he walked beside Marcus through the debris field.

  “Looks like they tried to pull it out of the dive,” Marcus said quietly. The fuselage of the drop ship was still in mostly one piece. It looked as though it had mostly slid on its belly after it had hit midway down the side of the hill.

  “Say what?”

  “I just said it looked like they tried to pull it out of the dive.”

  “There were people still on board?” Surfer raised his eyebrows. “Why didn’t they bail?”

  “They were… occupied with trying to preserve the scientific experiment,” Marcus replied.

  “What the hell kind of experiment is important enough to go down with the damn ship?” Surfer shook his head. “So what, you two are scientists or something?” When Marcus nodded, Surfer continued. “Well, get your ass in there and see if there’s anything to salvage. Don’t try anything, or I’ll shoot you in the back.” He sounded serious, and Marcus didn’t doubt he would do it.

  Grint walked up on th
e embankment to survey the wreckage. Surfer prodded Marcus in the back with the barrel of the rifle, and Marcus walked through the gaping hole where the hatch and belly had been ripped free. He steeled himself for the mutated beast to lunge at him, but all was still inside the ship. There was no sign of the beast. One of the skins had been impaled on a spike of metal that had ripped free from the fuselage. The eight-inch-wide beam had punched a ragged hole through the man’s chest. His face was frozen in surprise. From the man’s lifelike expression, Marcus thought he still lived for a moment, but when he checked for a pulse, there was none.

  “Whoooo… sucks to be him!” Surfer exclaimed, his voice loud in the enclosed space. “There’s gotta be some useful shit in here.” He started poking around at various bins and cubbyholes.

  Marcus moved further into the ship. Please don’t be here… You had to have made it out, he thought desperately. There was no sign of Bethany, the other grunt, or the beast. The corpse of the already-dead pilot had been ejected through the windshield of the cockpit and lay crumpled on the stony ground outside.

  “Score!” He looked around and saw that Surfer was pawing through a locker of supplies. Marcus looked around desperately for anything he could use. He saw the weapon rack still had a couple pulse rifles, but Surfer would probably shoot him as soon as he saw him make a move for it. The remnants of their packs full of supplies were a charred mass where the fire had engulfed them prior to the crash. One of the syringes filled with the tranquilizer had stuck into the bottom of one of the seat cushions. Marcus went and sat down, surreptitiously pulled the syringe free, and palmed it.

  “Hey! Get your ass over here and carry some supplies.” Surfer scowled at him. Marcus mumbled an apology and went over to help. He feigned stumbling and slipped the syringe into his cargo pocket. Surfer tossed him a couple cartons of rations. “Take those to the buggy.”