by Kyle West
“Make sure you’re strapped in good,” Makara said. “Things might get a bit…bumpy.”
As soon as she said that, Odin vibrated violently. I was afraid that the entire ship would disintegrate around me. The entire window glowed red from the friction of the passing atmosphere. I felt like we were getting sucked into a fiery vortex.
A terrifying thirty seconds passed before Makara spoke again.
“Back thrusters burning.”
The ship lurched, sending the safety harness pulling against my chest. Again, I felt like I was floating upward — not from a lack of gravity, but from the halting of our freefall. I could feel the backburners pushing us away from Earth, slowing our descent.
Finally, we reached an equilibrium. Sweat trailed down my face as I fell back into my seat, breathing a sigh of relief that the most harrowing part of the descent was over. Odin now flew horizontally, in much the same way as an airplane would. We had slowed from our speed of 17,500 miles per hour to one twentieth of that in the space of minutes.
“Atmosphere reentry complete,” Makara said. “Heading to target location.”
Odin slid further down toward the planet. The windows revealed a dark and cloudy sky, within which light flashed periodically. It was storming on the surface. Other than that, I could not see anything. The LCD showed us above the western Mexican coast, about halfway to our target location.
“Staying in the clouds a bit longer than planned,” Makara said. “Altitude fifteen thousand feet. I’m not taking any chances with that storm.”
“Roger that,” Ashton said. “You’re in Empire territory now, two hundred miles northwest from Nova Roma.”
“Copy that,” Makara said. “Continuing course to target location.”
Ten minutes later, Makara pressed a button on the control stick.
“Disengaging autopilot, engaging in manual mode.”
“Roger that,” Ashton said. “You’re ninety percent there. Knock ‘em dead, kid.”
I could see the side of Makara’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat from my spot behind Anna. The copilot was calm, reserved, intently watching the many dials and gauges on the dash.
“Nearing target,” Anna said. “Might be a good time to descend.”
“A little longer,” Makara said.
Anna paused. “Makara, are you sure…”
“Last I checked, I was the pilot here.” Makara said nothing for a long moment. “We can’t be seen. Not yet.”
On the screen, it showed us nearing the end of our line. We were almost on top of our target.
Suddenly, Makara veered the ship to the left. I lurched to the right, the safety harness cutting into me. I barely held back a scream from coming to my lips.
We were in freefall. We fell a couple thousand feet before Makara must have remembered we had thrusters. She engaged them, causing the ship, once more, to slow down. I felt like I was being crushed into my seat from the g-forces.
We broke from the clouds. Night covered the land, and it was hard to see any discernable spot we could land on. How Makara and Anna could pilot this thing in the dark, I had no clue. Makara and Ashton must have practiced some nighttime landings.
“Pinging,” Makara said.
Anna pressed a few buttons in quick succession on the dash, her fingers a blur. The screen switched to one of a dot, followed by a long line below it.
Odin’s computerized male voice responded to Anna’s inputs. Calibrating terrain.
Finally, the line on the LCD changed. A few jagged, green spikes indicated nearby mountains. A small depression appeared on the other side of the screen.
Anna pointed her finger on the depression. “There it is.”
“Heading down,” Makara said.
We thundered forward, edging closer to the surface. We were now a mere five hundred feet above it. Anyone watching form below would have been able to see us, not to mention hear us.
“Slowing,” Makara said.
Makara guided Odin toward the depression on the screen, slowing it to a hover.
“Descending,” Makara said.
I felt the ship going down, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
From the windshield, I could finally see the land come into view. We were lowering into a clearing surrounded on all sides by tall, verdant trees, masked by darkness. It was more trees in one moment than I had seen in the rest of my life.
The ship paused a moment right above the ground, the fusion drive in the back going quiet. I heard the squeal of retracting struts. Then, with a final lift, we alighted gently on the Earth. After two months, we were back, and it had only felt like we were going to get killed.
“Skyhome,” Makara said, “we have landed.”
* * *
Samuel and I began our return to Earth with a good, old-fashioned recon. I was a little leery — after all, I felt I always had bad luck when it came to recons — but at the same time, it was fine by me because I was eager to get the lay of the land.
When Odin’s blast door hissed open, we were met with a rush of warm, sticky air, pungent with the smell of vegetation. The wind blew softly, like a caress, folding the long grass on its side as it whispered through the blades. The warmth on my skin was foreign, yet definitely not unwelcome. The tall forms of trees bent slightly with the breeze, leaves rustling, as countless insects chirped in the night. The sky above was thick, pasty, misty, heavy yet unoppressive. To someone like me, who has grown up surrounded by machines, feeling nature felt strange and beautiful, like a primordial memory buried deep in my consciousness, a memory unremembered until I saw it before me. It was almost, dare I say, spiritual, or the closest thing to spiritual I had ever experienced.
Samuel was taking it in, too. He paused a moment, taking a deep breath of the humid air. In the distance, thunder crackled — not an angry, dry crackle like the Wasteland. It was calm, sedate, almost…promising. It’s very hard for me to describe something I’ve only experienced once. The wind was coming from the north, the direction of the distant mountains lost in nighttime shadow. That wind was cool, smelling wet and fresh, carrying with it the smell of pine and other aromas I could not recognize. It was mid-December now, though it didn’t feel it. It must have been seventy degrees outside. I remembered Ashton mentioning how Mexico’s climate hadn’t cooled as much as America’s due to Ragnarok. Standing there, I could feel it.
“Let’s get moving,” Samuel said.
We hit the ground, walking quickly for the trees. I held my Beretta in my right hand. It was loaded and fully operational should the need arise. The grass and pliant turf under my boots was soft. Up until this point, I had always walked on hard surfaces — metals, linoleum, rocks. At points, the ground was squishy from a previous rain. As it thundered again, I realized — it rained here. Rain was a miraculous thought, a thing of stories, a phenomenon I had only seen in movies, had read in books, had heard tell of by the old in Bunker 108. And now, I might finally get to see it. I might finally get to feel it.
As we walked toward the tree line, thunder boomed again. With it came a desperate rush of wind, and with that the first few, fat drops. The cold sensation as the drops splattered my face was pleasant, and made me smile.
We entered the thickness of the trees. It was dark, so we got out our flashlights.
“We won’t go too far in,” Samuel said. “I just want to make sure nothing’s going to jump out at us.”
Lightning cracked the sky, for a split second illuminating the forest in shadowy green.
“We need to be prepared for anything,” Samuel said. He paused, listening for a moment. “This area’s clear. Let’s walk around the entire perimeter.”
For the next ten minutes, we reconnoitered. We stuck to the outer fringes of the clearing as the storm advanced. Then, the rain suddenly came down in a torrent, soaking and chilling me to the bone. It was like some god had opened a heavenly window. The rain fell and fell, and lightning slashed the sky. It was apocalyptic and threatening and violent, i
n its own way. Gusts of wind bent the trees so far sideways that I did not see how they remained intact.
“Let’s get back,” Samuel shouted.
I didn’t argue, and we headed back to Odin. Once we made it to the boarding ramp, soaking wet, I saw that both Anna and Makara were already standing there. They, too, must have never seen rain before. The ship itself provided an awning with its outstretched, starboard wing. Waterfalls dripped from the wing’s sides as the lightning continued to slash the clouds and thunder in the forest.
We all said nothing as we watched. It was like we were drinking in the raw nature we had been deprived of our whole lives.
As the storm gained in intensity, my feeling of calm wonder slowly became one of rising alarm. This all came to a head when a jagged line of molten white speared itself from the sky, igniting a tall tree with a thunderous crack. I felt the heat of it, even from where I was, despite the coolness of the wind.
“Better get inside,” Makara said.
I decided that was a good idea. I followed her in. I paused at the open door, looking back at Samuel and Anna, who both stood, as if transfixed. I thought about warning them. But, Makara pulled my sleeve, and I stepped in after her. The door hissed shut behind me.
We said nothing in the metallic gray of the ship, only turning left down the corridor to head to our bunks. On either side was an open archway — within each room were four bunks. Makara paused before the right-hand doorway, giving me a tired glance before ducking inside the dark room.
I went into my own cabin, and laid down on my back, facing upward. Though we left at morning according to Skyhome time, my sleep of the night before had been restless, and the dark night outside just made me want to sleep even more. Coaxed by the sound of falling rain and thunder, both dimmed from the ship’s shell and walls, I closed my eyes, feeling sleep take hold almost instantly.
Chapter 7
The next day dawned hot and muggy. The water on the ground rose up in steam. It was hard to believe it was so warm, even though it was only early morning.
I started off by cramming myself into the ship’s tiny shower. Once done, I stepped out and dried off, dressing in my green camo pants and a green shirt. The environment down here was a little different from the Wasteland, and for that reason I had decided to forgo my desert camo hoodie. That hoodie had been with me since my escape from Bunker 108, but I probably couldn’t make it one mile wearing it. It would be waiting for me here upon my return.
From the kitchen came the sounds of cooking — pots clanging, food simmering, a spatula scraping. I went to the doorway, finding Samuel cooking breakfast. It was a strange picture. The last person I expected to be the ship’s cook was now frying up four hearty omelets, filled with tomatoes, green peppers, mushroom, and chopped onion. Four pieces of bread popped from the nearby toaster.
“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” I asked.
Samuel shrugged. “I cooked a lot when I lived in Bunker 114. I got pretty good at it.” He gave each omelet a flip with his spatula. “I’ve only recently learned how to cook eggs. After all, I haven’t tasted a real one until Skyhome.” He smiled. “Don’t see how I’ve gotten on without them.”
“Either way,” I said. “I’m starving.”
Makara and Anna sat at the table, located outside the kitchen in the ship’s galley. The galley was located near the entrance. Gazing outside the kitchen doorway, I could see them both sitting on opposite ends of the table, still looking half-asleep.
“Hey,” I said. “Breakfast.”
They got up and walked to the kitchen just as Samuel finished putting an omelet and a piece of toast on four separate plates.
“This might be our last good meal for a while, so I don’t want any leftovers.” He eyed Anna and Makara severely. Both gave him a nonchalant grunt.
We took our food to the table, and ate in silence. Even if no one was talking, it felt good to have the crew together again. I chowed down on the fresh food, washing it down with black coffee. I had taken to the stuff ever since coming to Skyhome, and hoped I wouldn’t have to go too long without it.
While we ate, Samuel reviewed what the day’s agenda was — head south, locate the settlement along the main Imperial road, and camp out until the next morning. Tomorrow, we would follow the road at a distance, scoping it out. If it was safe, we would follow it. If not, we would slog through the wilds all the way to Nova Roma. Hopefully, that didn’t have to happen.
Once finished, Makara and I washed dishes while Anna and Samuel prepped everyone’s gear. By the time Makara and I had put everything away, all our packs were lined neatly by the door.
I checked my Beretta one last time. It was locked and loaded, filled with seventeen rounds of ammunition. I carried two clips on my belt, opposite my combat knife, and had more ammo available in the pack. The pack was stuffed with food, water, and the camping gear we would need when we settled down for the night. My boots were laced, and I had managed to scrounge a headband to keep my lengthening hair out of my face while on the trail.
At last, we stepped outside into the hot morning. Makara shut the door and pressed a few numbers into the keypad. The door clicked itself shut.
“Don’t forget that combo,” I said.
“Oh no,” she said, feigning distress. “I just did.”
“Not funny,” I said.
We got started, heading south through the balmy forest. Samuel took the lead, using nothing more than a compass to strike a course south. Hopefully, no one saw or heard our entrance last night. It was possible that the storm had completely masked our entry.
We entered the first line of trees. At points, the undergrowth grew so thick that Anna had to use her beloved katana to cut it down. She was strong and fit, but even she could not keep that up forever. After an hour, we had only gone about a mile.
At midday, we paused for a quick lunch of chicken sandwiches before moving on again. The day that had begun warm was now sweltering. It must have been in the nineties. It was hard to believe it was wintertime. In California, it was probably well below freezing. Even if Mexico was farther south, something just didn’t feel right about this heat.
At last, the jungle broke, revealing a stream that ran quick and silvery over smooth stones. Green moss grew on its banks, soft under our feet. The stream veered south. Since that was the direction we were headed, we decided to splash through the water and follow its course. Our speed easily increased by a factor of two.
The thick canopy of green cast verdant shadows on the forest floor, lighting meadows and trees with an emerald hue. Bugs flew in giant clouds. Mosquitoes bit as we passed a bog. It was my first time to be bitten by one, and it was a shame Ragnarok couldn’t have taken care of them, too. My sweat clung to my shirt, and still, we pressed on. As the stream deepened, we were forced to the side. Thin rivulets fed the water’s flow, broadening it. We had to head back into the thick forest again, and we were back to the same slow crawl we were at before.
Mercifully, around late afternoon, the trees broke, and we saw our first sign of civilization.
A huge tract of land, growing corn, filled my entire vision. The corn rose in green stalks, and here and there I could see workers, stooped down and working the fields. No, not workers. Slaves. Walking between the hunched bodies were their drivers, men in wide-brimmed hats with whips tethered to their belts. Across the fields was a low, circular wall, and within were buildings and lines of smoke rising into the blue sky. Several blood red flags whipped in the breeze.
We ducked back into the forest, before anyone could see us.
“Welcome to the Empire,” Makara said.
“What now?” I asked.
Samuel paused a moment. “We can’t just come out of the woods like this. It’ll look suspicious.”
“Maybe just a couple of us could go in,” Anna said. “Pose as traders from the Wasteland, or something. Could be a way to get some info.”
“Sounds risky,” Samuel said. “We are technicall
y at war with the Empire. It might be best to try and make it all the way to Nova Roma without being seen at all. When we get to the capital there will be so many people that we’ll escape notice.”
“Do we have enough food for that?” I asked.
“We can travel at night,” Samuel said. “Less people around. If we need food, we can steal it.”
“Won’t all that look suspicious, though?” Makara asked. “We’ll be mistaken for escaped slaves.”
“Our goal is to make it Nova Roma,” Samuel said. “We’re not trying to make friends here. If we have to steal, or even kill, to get there, we all will do so…without hesitation.”
None of us said anything as his words sunk in. Through the trees, I could still see the wooden wall of the settlement, distant.
“Now would be a good time to find a spot to camp,” Samuel said. “We can catch some sleep and continue on through the night.”
We trekked further upriver, toward a clearing we had passed on the journey down. There, we set up camp, making some lean-tos out of some rope and tarps we had packed. We had a cold dinner — sandwiches again, before settling down to sleep with just an hour of sunlight left.
When night came, I was still wide awake. I wasn’t sure how long Samuel planned on having us sleep, but I didn’t feel tired at all. It was absolutely miserable with the humidity, the heat, and the bugs. I was already not liking this Empire place, and longed for my bed back at Skyhome.
As the sky darkened, stars began to appear. Ashton had been right; the meteor fallout from Ragnarok did not affect this area as much. It felt strange to sleep under a sky that was not much different from what my grandparents would have seen.
The clearness of the night caused it to cool off quickly. Soon, it was not so unbearable, and even the bugs mostly went away. The stars twinkled by the thousands.
Everyone else around me was sound asleep. Yet still, something just wouldn’t let me relax. I didn’t know what it was. As time passed, my feeling of unease grew worse, until I felt ready to wake everyone else up.
