by C. B. Lee
“I can get you there,” Bells says. “I have enough strength to do one more disguise. We can look like two of the guards, get to a console close to the exit, and then we can walk out.”
Genevieve nods. “Okay. Abby? Jess?”
Abby takes her DED out of her pocket and hands it to Bells. “Take this. There’s a holo of Captain Orion talking about the experiments and all the horrible things the NAC have been doing with the League. Get it on the Net it as soon as you can after you contact my dad.”
“I can definitely do that,” Bells says. “How are you guys gonna get out? There are guards everywhere.”
“We’ll find our way,” Abby says, looking at Jess.
Jess points at the hall behind them. “The safest exit route free from the guards or any other opposition is that way. Come on, Abby.”
Jess hugs Bells tightly. “You’re always a hero to me.”
He chuckles and pats her back. “I’ll see you back in town.”
Abby and her mom are hugging, whispering to each other. “Ready?”
Jess takes her hand, and they make their way. It gets harder as they go, as Abby seems to get weaker and weaker. Finally Jess’ instinct guides her to what looks like a garbage chute, and they crawl in, landing among soft garbage bags. They wait in the closed dumpster, and after what seems like an infinity of darkness, Jess can hear a machine moving them. Wheels. Concrete.
“Abby, it’s going to be okay,” Jess says. “We’re getting out of here, and then your mom is gonna meet us back in Andover.”
Abby squeezes Jess’ hand weakly and then promptly vomits in the corner of the dumpster.
It’s hot in the enclosed space, and the stench of vomit is more and more concentrated as they continue. Jess tries to keep track of how long they’ve been on the road, but she has no clue. She’s tired and hungry and her eyelids are closing.
Jess wakes up to a shock of light and the sounds of more machines, and then she and Abby are among the trash bags in an open heap. They seem to be the last dumpster to be emptied. Jess hides among the bags just in case.
A bright morning sun bounces harsh rays off the canyon that serves as the dump. Jess waits until the truck drives away before she struggles to get free of the trash.
“Abby!” Jess calls. “Come on, let’s go!”
Abby groans.
When Jess touches her, Abby’s skin is pale and clammy. “Abby, how are you feeling?”
“Gross.”
“We’re literally sitting in trash, I would expect so. Come on, Andover is that way.”
She manages to get Abby to her feet, and they clamber out of the trash pile and to the trail leading out of the dump.
Abby is sluggish and refuses to talk. She just nods and slings an arm around Jess. They walk in the heat, and Jess has to stop every now and then and remove the pieces of Abby’s broken mecha-suit. They leave a trail of shining metal pieces behind them as they go, keeping a considerable distance from the road.
The air shimmers in the distance, but Andover isn’t quite visible yet. There is only desert around them; Joshua trees twist toward the sky and creosote bushes dot the landscape.
A truck drives by on the road, whizzing loudly. Jess nearly trips over a rock, and they stumble, but Abby is the one who slumps to the ground.
“Abby!” Jess calls out, seeing Abby’s prone form lying on the ground. “Please be okay, please be okay,” she mutters as she rushes forward.
She turns Abby over and exhales when Abby’s eyes flick open, and her chest heaves up and down.
“Abby.” Jess holds her to her chest.
“I’m fine. I knew you cared, you dork.”
“Of course I care!” Jess tucks the curl flopping in front of Abby’s eyes behind her ear and pats her hair.
“You love me,” Abby says, smiling.
Jess leans forward. “Yeah, I really do. This isn’t our Romeo and Juliet moment. You’re going to be okay. No one is dying.”
“No, it’s the end. I want a goodbye kiss.”
“No.” Jess refuses to believe it’s that bad. Genevieve wouldn’t have let them go if she didn’t think they could make it out of the base. She doesn’t know what that serum did, but for now she’s just relieved Abby is still breathing and talking and doesn’t have any visible injuries. “I’ll kiss you when all this is over, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
Abby closes her eyes, breathing shallowly.
“Where is help? Where is someone who can help us?” Jess mutters to herself. “Come on, you stupid power, be useful. I can do this.” She concentrates, but can’t figure a direction.
Glancing at her wrist is an automatic reflex, but the display of her DED is shattered. It must have been damaged during the fight, and now is nothing more than a useless bit of metal and circuits. “I need someone who can help Abby get better. Where is the nearest person who can help Abby?”
Jess thinks and thinks and there’s no direction that her heart is telling her to go, it just is…
That means the answer is Jess. Jess is that person.
The desert is vast and dry, and Jess’ lips are already parched. They’re going to need to find shade, and quick.
“Can you stand?” Jess asks. “If you can’t move on your own, we can’t go anywhere; you’re going to get really sunburnt here and dehydrated. Let’s try and get to that rock overhang.”
Abby winces and lets Jess prop her up. Jess takes most of the weight. Together, the two of them struggle across the sand.
The gorgeous canyons all around mock them with the lack of shade; the few cacti rise tall and spindly with scant shadows. There is no wildlife, only the rustling of the wind, scattering dust clouds in the distance.
The wilderness outside Andover used to make Jess nervous whenever she left the city. Hardly anyone ever hiked out here, even for fun. There are plenty of recreational opportunities in Andover, and Las Vegas is only an hour’s drive away.
They pass by an old sign that proclaims DANGER: UNMAINTAINED AREA, CLASS THREE. It’s been over a hundred years since the Disasters, and there’s no danger from the radiation, but the unknown, that huge “Unmaintained” label is the main reason no one wants to go outside the towns.
Even if there was a passing car, what’s to say Orion hasn’t alerted the League and everyone about what they’ve done? Are they fugitives now? Are they in danger?
Jess has always found the area intriguing, with bits and pieces of old America scattered throughout a vivid and beautiful landscape, but today she doesn’t have the energy to appreciate it.
There’s so much life here, all of it struggling to stay afloat, seizing sun and air and water where it can. Jess once memorized the shapes of cacti so she could learn their names on the Net. Supposedly there’s one that can be sliced up and harvested for the juice, but Jess doesn’t remember which one or how that process would work.
Jess concentrates on moving one foot in front of the other.
Water. She knows there is water close by. Behind that rock overhang, there will be water.
They make it to the overhang, and Jess sets Abby down.
“You should leave,” Abby says. “I’m useless out here. That serum, whatever it did, I can’t… Even if it didn’t have an effect and only made me sick, I’m not charged enough to move anything, and there’s nothing electronic for me to manipulate. Both of us don’t have to die here. Go.”
“I’m not leaving you. But I am going to get you some water. There’s some close by. I can feel it.”
“Go back to Andover,” Abby says.
“Shh, I’ll be right back.” Jess kisses Abby on the forehead, then leaves her in the shade. She takes off her outer shirt and winds it around her head like a hat to keep the sun out of her eyes and follows her instincts. Water. Drinkable water.
Her instinct guides her to a sheer cli
ff, and Jess eyes the sandstone. “Đéo biết,” Jess curses. Where is she supposed to go? Is the water embedded in the stone?
She looks around the outcrop she’s standing on, searching for any sign of the water.
It’s here. It has to be. She scans the area until she sees a pile of stacked rocks—someone made this formation. A cairn.
So, she’s on the right track.
Jess turns back toward the cliff, looking at the way weather and time have carved the stone into jagged shapes, and how cracks mar the surface. Every so often, there’s a dusting of white powder.
Chalk, Jess realizes, and a holovid of rock climbers coating their hands with the substance comes to mind.
“Okay,” Jess says, taking a deep breath.
She grips the rock face, steadies herself on the tiny holds, and then finds the barest ledge for her toes. The sandstone is gritty and warm beneath her fingers; red dust coats her skin.
Jess is aware of nothing but the sky blazing pale blue behind her and the red rock in front of her as she climbs higher and higher. She loses her grip a few times and she barely catches herself before tumbling. Each inch is a victory.
The chalk is dusted generously in no apparent pattern, as if whoever was here—multiple whoevers, probably—skittered all over the rock for fun.
Ahead an overhang juts out above a dark hollow with another small cairn.
Jess rolls ungracefully, knocking the stacked pebbles aside; her body barely fits the small alcove. As her eyes adjust, she can see the shallow opening widens into a dark cavern. Pockets of light flick erratically inside the cave. How deep does it go?
She lies there on the cool stone catching her breath, and then wills herself to crawl forward until she can stand up.
Water.
She plods into the cave, and soon the hard stone gives way to softer sand, and then in a corner Jess falls to her knees. She picks up a sharp rock and digs. She keeps going until she hears a heavy metal klunk.
She finds a small barrel, someone’s cache of survival supplies from the time of the Disasters, carefully squirreled away for later use. Jess pries open the lid. Inside is a backpack and a plastic jug of water. “Yes,” she breathes out. She breaks off the seal and takes a swig of the cool liquid. She manages to stuff the jug into the backpack, not bothering to look at the other contents. She heaves the whole thing onto her back and picks her way carefully down the cliff. It’s harder going down, but Jess only has one thought: Get back to Abby.
Jess wobbles forward once she reaches the ground. “Why is water so heavy?” she mutters. She shifts position, but any way she carries the pack is awkward; she cuddles the pack to her chest and waddles toward the rock overhang.
“Hey.” Jess sets down the backpack and takes out the jug.
Abby doesn’t respond.
“Abby,” Jess says, crouching down. She takes her extra shirt and pours some of the water onto it, wiping Abby’s forehead and then placing it on the back of her neck. It’s what we’re supposed to do for people who are overheating, right? Is Abby overheating? “Abby.”
“Ah, that feels nice,” Abby says, her voice barely a whisper.
“Drink some water.” Jess pours from the jug into her cupped palm and holds it to Abby’s lips. “C’mon, you got this.” Jess tips her hands forward into Abby’s mouth.
Abby drinks two handfuls of water, and then drifts off into an uneasy sleep. Jess drinks from the gallon jug, and then examines all the contents of the backpack.
So they have water and two reflective emergency heat blankets, five protein bars, and a glow stick. There’s nothing electronic in the backpack, just the food and water. It must be a quick refueling spot, hidden out here all the way in the middle of nowhere.
It’s not much, but it could be enough. Jess wishes her power was more specific because she could point them back to Andover, but they have no way of knowing how long it would take, or how far it is. It took an hour, maybe more, by car to get to the facility. That’s probably what, eighty miles at the most? Jess knows in P.E. she barely managed a twelve-minute mile, and that was running. Walking would take longer, especially in unknown terrain. They only have enough water for the two of them for a day, maybe two if they stretch it. Should they leave the relative safety of this shelter?
Jess sighs.
Abby groans, still in pain. She twitches and reaches out. “Jess.”
“I’m right here,” Jess says.
“No, here.”
Jess scoots closer. The ground is relatively cool, and Jess stays low and the two of them huddle there, Abby’s fingers finding Jess’ own and curling around them.
Jess falls asleep.
When she wakes up, the sunset is just leaving the horizon in streaks of warm oranges and reds.
Abby is awake already. She’s got the contents of the backpack laid out in front of her and a half-eaten protein bar in her hand. She takes another bite and makes a face at the taste. “These things are dry and taste like cardboard, but they’re edible. Where’d you get it?”
“Somebody’s cache of supplies. Probably been here since the Disasters.”
Abby makes a gagging noise. “Eating hundred year old protein. And I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Wonderful.”
“Hey, we’re alive.”
“We bought some time,” Abby says. “I wish I could help, but my suit is gone, and even if I had it, I wouldn’t be able to operate it without my powers.”
Jess nods. “We can try and find our way toward Leichester. It’s closer than Andover.”
“What’s there?”
“Nothing, really. It’s an old way station between Nuevo Los Angeles and Las Vegas. There are pictures of aliens there. I’ve seen it when I used to come out here. It would be on the way. I wish I knew how far, but I don’t. It’s between here and Andover. We would get there sooner. I mean, I don’t know if there’s enough electronics there for you to make a new suit, but we could ask someone to use their DED to find out what happened to Bells.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Abby says. “Let’s get moving while it’s dark.”
Jess agrees.
By the light of the moon, they walk, keeping just off the main road. Occasionally a car drives by, its bright headlights shockingly blinding white against the looming darkness of the night. Jess hopes they aren’t visible; she has no idea what Orion may have told the League about them or whether the authorities are looking for them.
Abby seems to have regained her physical strength at least and pushes away any question Jess has about her well-being. They walk in silence, the only sound their footsteps on the ground and the wind starting to pick up.
Jess puts her extra shirt back on, and she shivers in the cold desert night. Abby must be cold, too, in the thin skintight circuited bodysuit, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
Temperatures here are so extreme. How did people live during the Disasters without heat or air conditioning to temper this harsh environment?
They walk through the night, silent and filled with determination. Jess begins to lose focus, just follows where Abby goes, puts one foot in front of the other; her body is starting to give up on her. It becomes routine; walk, walk, walk, hide when there’s a car, take sips of water. Soon they abandon the empty water jug.
Abby walks as if her limbs are stiff. “Can you find us another shelter?”
Jess concentrates and points; there will be another overhang soon. The morning light peeks over the horizon, and they take out one of the emergency blankets; it shines in the moonlight, crinkles like aluminum foil, and they wrap themselves together.
They wake in late afternoon. Jess is groggy; sleeping during the day and walking through the night has messed with her natural sleep rhythm.
“How close are we?” Abby asks, and then sighs. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“It�
��s okay,” Jess says.
“No, I mean, without you, we wouldn’t have the food and water or know where we’re going. You’re doing all you can.”
“Let’s keep going.”
They make a quick meal of the protein bars and then walk forward.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Jess sees the light of the way station and the neon green alien face, shining like a beacon. “Almost there!” she says.
Abby bristles. “I can sense the electronics… three cars… door locks… an old computer console… one DED… but I can’t do anything.”
“It’s fine. We just need to get there and then we can call someone for help.”
“Who would we call?”
“My parents, probably.” Jess sighs. “I don’t know how they’ll take the news about Claudia.”
They stumble into the way station looking like a mess, but no more so than the group of college-age kids fueling up on energy drinks and snacks, talking excitedly about their plans for a night of debauchery in Las Vegas.
Their flashy convertible speeds off before they can be approached, so Jess and Abby head right into the way station. They must be covered in dirt, but the attendant doesn’t pay them any mind. He’s incredibly old; lines weather his face and he’s reading a novel at the register, gingerly turning a page at a painstakingly slow pace. A MASTER MISCHIEF WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE CHEESE trucker hat is perched on his head, and his long hair is gathered into a ponytail.
“Do you have a DED?” Jess asks. “We were hiking and got lost; our car battery died out in the canyons.”
The attendant clucks his tongue. “Kids,” he says, shaking his head. “Gotta charge those things up full before you leave the city. You know there ain’t gonna be charging ports everywhere.” He glances up and takes in their condition, and a trace of sympathy appears in his eyes. “My son gave me one to keep in touch, but it broke a few years ago. Never bothered fixing it. Now, cell phones, those I miss. A thing you can touch, you know, pictures stayed on the screen…”
Abby raises her eyebrows and whispers to Jess. “Think he’s over a hundred?”
Jess shrugs. “It’s possible.” Emma’s nana is a hundred and seven. This guy probably lived right through the Disasters, too.
