by Colin Sims
“He’s from Boise,” Samireh quickly said. “And don’t ask him about it, okay? It’s a long story.”
I glanced at her for a moment and then turned back to Watkins. “I’m Michael,” I said. “Michael Tripp.”
The old man thought for a moment, eyeing me with a puzzled look. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “Alicia Tripp. Is this person related to you?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Samireh staring daggers at him. “I told you not to ask him about it!” she snapped. She then looked at me and said, “Just show him the thing.”
I didn’t quite get why she was so upset with the old guy for asking me questions. And while I wasn’t very keen to talk about my dead family, I couldn’t help my curiosity.
“She was my mom,” I answered. “How did you know her?”
Watkins looked between Samireh and me, then nodded. “Past tense,” he said solemnly. “I am sorry. I’d crossed paths with her is all. Back in the old days. I’m glad she at least had a family. She was one of the good ones.”
“Excellent,” Samireh said. “And now that that’s over with … Michael, show him the thing on the necklace.”
I threw her an annoyed glance. I would have liked to ask Watkins more questions.
“Yes, yes,” the old man mumbled as he shuffled behind his desk and sat down. “Let us see what you have. A necklace, you say?”
I paused a moment, rethinking whether I should show it to him. He seemed perfectly trustworthy, but I also knew that whatever information was on that little flash drive, it wasn’t something I should be showing to everyone I met. Still, we’d hiked all day just to get here, so I pulled the chain over my head and handed it over.
Watkins took it immediately and peered at it through a large magnifying glass. A full minute passed in silence as he turned it over and over, excitedly examining every millimeter.
“I think it’s a flash drive,” I noted, pointing to the little seam where the cap was. “If you pull it apart, you can see the plug.”
Watkins nodded and carefully pulled off the cap. The sight of the USB seemed to shock him, and he jumped back in his chair. He then shot forward again and studied it intensely. His eyes were wild and it almost seemed like his poofy grey hair had just received an extra jolt of electricity.
Another minute or two passed in silence until he collapsed back in his chair and looked at us in shock. “You two truly have no idea what this is?” he asked breathlessly.
Samireh and I glanced at each other and both shook our heads.
“My God,” he whispered to himself, then fixed his eyes on mine. “You were right about the USB, Michael. But I do not think it will work with any of my computers.”
“Why not?” I asked.
He stared at me for a few seconds before answering, “Because this tech isn’t human, my young friend. It is Mantidae.”
***
I’d heard about all sorts of Old World tech during my life in Boise. Some of it was old, some of it was boring, and some of it was mind-blowing. But I’d never once heard of someone recovering Mantidae tech. Hell, until two days ago, I’d always thought that the aliens were long extinct.
“Have you ever seen something like this before?” I asked Watkins after a long pause. Samireh bent forward to snatch the flash drive—or whatever it was—to examine it herself.
“Once,” the old man said, and he shot out of his chair. He went straight for a shelf full of tattered books and worn folders. “But not like what you have here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean I’ve seen the black metal before,” he answered distractedly, rifling through stacks of papers. “Ah, here it is,” he said, stepping back to his desk. “But I’ve never seen a human and Mantidae hybrid. Look here.” He pointed to a faded old photograph.
“I’ve seen that,” I said excitedly. “That’s the Mantidae ship, right?”
“Yes. Look at the hull. The same black metal as your flash drive.”
“That was their ship?” Samireh interjected, leaning over my shoulder. “It’s freaking huge!”
Watkins glanced at her and then back at me. “Look here,” he said, pointing again, flipping to another photograph. “This is a close-up. You see, it is the same black metal. I came across a tiny piece of it once, many years ago.”
I took the flash drive back from Samireh so I could look at it myself. I held it up to the faded picture and asked Watkins, “Do you still have the piece—the one you found?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said disappointedly. “It was stolen.”
“Stolen?” I asked. “By who? Why?”
“I do not know.” He shrugged. “They were bad men. The type you do not say ‘no’ to.”
“New America?” Samireh asked.
The old man shrugged again. “Could have been their agents. You never know.”
I lowered the flash drive to look at Samireh. “New America?” I asked her. “How do you know about them? Do you see them a lot out here?”
She and Watkins both exchanged glances before she said, “Yes. We definitely see them out here.”
“They’re the Law,” Watkins added. “This town only exists because we pay Ajax, who then pays them.”
Before I could ask, ‘who’s Ajax,’ Samireh explained, “Ajax is the chieftain of the Rovers in this area. He’s like a warlord. Oldstown pays him with food from its farms, and he scares off anyone who might try to raid it.”
“Why doesn’t he just take all the food for himself?” I asked.
“Because motorcycle gangs aren’t all that into farming,” Samireh said.
“But they need to eat,” Watkins noted. Then, after a pause, he added, “You should leave your device with me. If the wrong person sees it, there will be nothing I can do to help you.”
I looked back at the flash drive and thought for a moment. “Is it really that valuable?” I asked him.
“Not valuable. Dangerous,” he answered. “Please, my young friend. Let me hide it until morning. With something this dangerous, we must have a plan.”
I turned to Samireh. “What do you think?”
“It’s up to you,” she said. “But he’s right. If it really is Clicker tech, then it’s definitely dangerous.”
I looked back to Watkins, who held out his hand expectantly. I studied him a second longer and then shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said, putting the necklace back around my neck. “But I can’t. I watched a lot of people die to keep this thing safe. I have to keep it with me.”
“I beg you to reconsider,” he said quickly.
“It’s alright,” I said. “I won’t let anyone see it.”
“And if they do,” Samireh added, “I’ll make sure they won’t be able to say anything about it.”
Watkins hung his head low before collapsing back in his seat. “It is your decision,” he said to me. “But please, be careful. And stay close by. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”
Samireh reached forward and slapped him on the shoulder. “Such an old softie,” she teased him. “When it comes to a fight, you never have to worry about me. You only have to worry about the other guy.”
***
After leaving Watkins’ shop, Samireh led me across the town to a small shack, which she explained was the “guesthouse.”
“They must get a lot of guests,” I told her sarcastically as we stepped inside. It was about the size of an applecart.
She ducked slightly and stepped forward to light a small kerosene lamp on the wall. “Well,” she said. “I have a Spanish villa in the next settlement, but I like to rough it sometimes—and before you ask—yes, I know what a villa is. I’ve actually read a book or two, you know.”
“You can read?” I asked. I actually meant it as a serious question, so I felt bad when she rolled her eyes and said, “Very funny. You stay here. I’ll grab us something to eat.”
I knelt down to unpack a few things from my pack. I took a long drink from my cantee
n before taking out the thermal blanket. I figured I’d need to use it as both a mattress and as a blanket, since there wasn’t anything in Samireh’s guesthouse expect bare concrete and a bucket.
A few minutes later she was back, tossing me a small loaf of bread that landed in my hands like a brick.
I knocked it against the floor a couple times. A piece of concrete chipped away on the second hit. I looked up at Samireh.
“Don’t be a wuss,” she said. “You have to gnaw on it.”
I followed her example. I was so hungry that I managed to finish the whole thing in a couple of minutes. When I was done, I caught Samireh staring at me.
“What?” I asked her.
She studied me for another moment and finally said, “Here.” She produced an apple from somewhere behind her. She quickly cut it in half with a small knife from her ankle then tossed me one of the sides.
“Thanks,” I said, a little dumbfounded as I caught it. I waited for a second before saying, “Did you have to pay for this?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She chewed. “I’ve never been too into money. We should get some sleep, though. We’ll be up at dawn tomorrow.”
“Then what?” I asked.
The truth was, I still had no idea what I was going to do. The flash drive at the end of the necklace was Mantidae tech, but so what? There wasn’t anything I could do with it.
Samireh frowned. “What makes you think I have all the answers?” she said. “I don’t even know why I’m still helping you.”
I took another bite of apple. “Because you’re a nice person?”
“Ha.” She laughed. “Tell that to those guys from yesterday.” Then she fixed me with a hard stare and added, “Trust me, wall boy. Nice people don’t troll the Deadlands on their own with nothing but a sword.”
To her credit, she had a point. And I momentarily stopped chewing as I glanced at the door.
“But don’t worry,” she said happily. “For the moment at least, I think you’re alright. And I promise I won’t stab you. But can you get the lamp? I’m going to sleep.”
She ate the last bite of apple and rolled over on her side. Roughly two seconds later, she was snoring. I’d never seen anything like it.
I got up to douse the light then crawled back to my side of the room and wrapped myself in the blanket. I was tired, but I stopped myself from falling asleep. Ever since Samireh and I left Watkins’ shop, I started thinking about where I could hide the alien flash drive. For some reason, I felt like having it on my person wasn’t a good idea. I needed to find a place to stash it—a place that was easy to get to, yet hard to find.
An hour later, Samireh was still asleep and I couldn’t hear any more settlers moving around outside. Slowly, I crawled from under the blanket and tiptoed to the door. I glanced at Samireh one last time, and then I creaked open the door.
Thankfully, the town was completely deserted with everyone fast asleep. The only shred of light came from a low-burning torch a few shacks away. I crept around to the back of the guesthouse, scanning the ground for anything that might work as a hiding spot.
It only took about a minute before I spotted a rusted metal can—which I recognized from Old World movies as a soda can—and knelt down to pick it up. The small hole was just big enough for the flash drive, so I took the chain from my neck and started to squeeze it through. As soon as it clinked in, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a girl’s voice whispered, “Good thinking.” I nearly fell over when I whipped around to see Samireh crouched on her haunches in the dark. She was nodding approvingly.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasped, feeling my heart pound. I wobbled for a second to regain my balance. “It’s like you’re a ninja or something!”
Samireh’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Are you serious?” she said. “That’s like the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Chapter 9
My eyes shot open a few hours later to the sound of shouts from the other side of the settlement. It seemed like I had just managed to fall asleep again when I heard them, jolting me upright. It was still nighttime, but in the dim light I could see Samireh already peeking outside through a small crack in the sheet metal.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to her.
She waved her hand at me, telling me to keep quiet. I crawled beside her, looking for a crack of my own to look through, but I couldn’t find one.
There were more shouts coming from across town, and I heard the stomping of feet as they ran past.
Eventually, Samireh unglued her face from the wall and looked at me. “We have to go,” she whispered. “Someone’s coming.”
“Who?” I asked, trying to lean over and look through the crack myself, but she stopped me.
“Not sure,” she said. “Sounds like a convoy. Might be NAM.”
By “NAM,” I knew she meant the New American Military, and for an instant, I felt a sudden wave of relief. For some reason, New America felt familiar to me, at least in comparison to the Deadlands. I almost considered marching outside to greet them and tell them my story, but when I glanced at Samireh, I saw something on her face that I’d never seen before: Fear.
She wasn’t shaking or anything, but she was definitely afraid.
After a brief moment, I asked her, “What do they want? You think they’re here for me?”
She stared at me for a second and then put her nose back to the cracked wall. “Maybe,” she said quietly. “But it’s too late for us to run.” She stood up, pulling me with her. “Leave your pack and follow me. We have to hide.”
“But it has all my stuff,” I protested, turning to retrieve it.
“Just take the gun,” Samireh said. “Leave the rest. It’s too bulky.”
“You don’t understand, I have to take it,” I said. “It was my—”
“Wall boy, I like you,” she interrupted. “But I’m not going to die for you. Leave it, or I leave you. Your choice.” She opened the door and slunk outside.
Reluctantly, I picked up the Glock and its two extra mags. I stared at Alec’s pack for a second, allowing a second’s hesitation before turning and following Samireh out the door.
I was lucky I left the room when I did. I just managed to catch the last trace of her ankle as she slipped into the darkness beside the shack. I moved quietly to follow her and met her near the spot where I’d semi-buried the soda can.
“We have to take the flash drive,” I told her, reaching down to get it.
She stopped my hand with hers. “No,” she said. “If that’s what they’re after, then you don’t want it on you. It’s safer here. Look,” she pointed to a two-story building nearby. It was one of the taller ones in town. “We have to get on that roof. Follow me.” She then turned to go, disappearing into the shadows so quietly that for a second I wondered if she was even real.
I crept after her until we were both crouching at the base of the tall building.
“Watch where I grab hold,” she whispered, pointing at the wall beside us. “There are enough cracks to climb up the face.” Once again, she didn’t make the slightest sound as she jumped to grab the first handhold and pulled herself up. I did my best to peer through the dark and remember every spot where she was able to get a grip. In no time, she was all the way to the top and disappeared onto the roof. A split second later, the outline of her head appeared over the edge, looking down at me.
“Christ,” I whispered to myself as I glanced to the side. “I’m gonna cut my hands to pieces …”
That’s when I remembered Fat Tommy’s jacket was at least two sizes too big. If I scrunched my hands back a little, I could use the sleeves like gloves.
I jumped to grab the first hold and pulled myself up, then reached for the second place where Samireh had grabbed. The girl had made it look so easy when she’d climbed, but it took me at least a couple strained minutes of huffing and grunting before I made it to the top.
“You climb like a hippopotamus,” she whispered to me as I rolled onto
the roof. “I was about to tag you with a throwing star.”
She shimmied on her stomach toward the opposite edge of the building, giving her a view of the town below. I followed, trying to examine my palms in the dark. As far as I could tell, my trick with the jacket had worked and there wasn’t any blood.
When I was beside her, looking over the edge, I asked her how the hell she knew what a hippo was and not a banana, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she just pointed to the town’s front gate. The heavy doors slowly groaned open. The twin beams from a pair of headlights shone from the other side. A number of the settlers had gathered near the gate, and most of them were armed. As soon as the doors were fully opened, the idling trucks punched through the crowd and drove to the center of town. I suddenly feared that if the men in the trucks glanced upward, they would see us.
“That’s New America, isn’t it?” I whispered to Samireh, who as far as I could tell, wasn’t even breathing. From the corner of my eye, I saw her give a slight nod.
The trucks were definitely military. They were heavily armored and were almost as big as the tanks I’d seen back in Boise. And while none of these trucks had a canon like the BDF’s Paladins, they each had a mechanically controlled turret with a .50 caliber machine gun.
A few seconds later, the doors on two of them opened and a dozen soldiers jumped out. To say they were heavily armed would’ve been an understatement. They were fully decked out in battle-hardened gear, and they reminded me of how the Specials Missions guys looked before venturing past the Security Wall.
Half of them fanned out in separate directions before a thirteenth soldier stepped from the second truck. Immediately, I heard Samireh’s breath catch. She recognized him. I quietly asked her who he was, but she didn’t answer.
