Shattered Roads

by ALICE HENDERSON

  Rowan slowed as they approached the middle barrier. “No.” He turned to meet her eyes in the gloom. “They lobotomize them. Give them a simple task to carry out.”

  She stood there, unable to move. “What?”

  “They give them water every couple of days, some food once a week, and they have a never-ending supply of job applicants.”

  She remained frozen. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Repurposers. That’s what they’d been trying to do to that last corpse she’d been sent to clean up. Only things had gone wrong. They must have known she’d notice the foul play. And she’d taken too long in the apartment. They knew she knew. And they were going to Repurpose her.

  Numbly, she walked up to the TWR but couldn’t get her mind to concentrate on opening the barrier. She closed her eyes tightly, then balled her fists. Nothing.

  She felt Rowan’s hand on her shoulder, a warm comfort. “It’s okay,” he said. “Take your time.” She knew she couldn’t take her time. His people were dying right this very minute. Maybe even Byron and the others.

  She forced her mind to focus, to open up. She sent the off signal, and instantly the air became unbreathable with carbon dioxide. “It’s down,” she coughed. He hurried through and she followed, then sealed the barrier again.

  They jogged through the dark, her beam bouncing off the tunnel walls. She felt sick inside. When they got past the area so thick with carbon dioxide she couldn’t stop coughing, she tried to breathe a little deeper.

  They reached the end of the tunnel, the smell of urine and fecal matter so strong it made her gag. They raced outside, and to her surprise, she saw that Byron had left the solar car for them. Rowan ducked into the driver’s seat, then stood back up with the keys. He threw them to her. “You know this car a hell of a lot better than I do. You drive.”

  They piled in, and she started it up, grateful to be back in the driver’s seat. It was like meeting an old friend again. She spun the car around and rocketed away from the oozing sewage.

  Rowan watched her as she drove. “Anyone who interrupts the infrastructure maintenance with a pirate broadcast like we just did gets targeted. The system breaks down, and even if it’s just for a few minutes, it damages their power structure. If enough people wake up repeatedly, or for a long stretch of time, the PPC would be in huge trouble. The city would grind to a halt. The citizens don’t know it, but they have the power to take down the whole system.”

  A second wind of hope flooded through her. “Do you think that’s what will happen after my message?”

  “No, unfortunately. You saw the lights go out for a few minutes. But soon people will be back to watching what they always watch. Mindless ‘reality’ shows that aren’t based in reality at all. The people in those shows aren’t even real. It’s all generated by a central computer, a random group of CG people doing randomly generated acts. The images will flash in the citizens’ minds, dull their thoughts, and by tomorrow, they probably won’t even remember there was a pirate broadcast, or they’ll have decided it was a joke. All they need is right in front of them. They don’t need to leave their living pods. All they have to do is consume. They won’t unplug and think.”

  She felt rage swell within her. “But . . .” She’d always been a little envious of the clean, spacious, luxurious living pods of the citizens compared to her own tiny, sweltering room. But now she was grateful she’d never been plugged into the network.

  The smell of sewage finally abated as they got far enough away from the viscous brown rivers pouring out of the city. She pushed the car as fast as it could go, following Rowan’s directions to Rocky Basin Camp, rocketing at almost ninety miles an hour down the old battered road. When they got closer, they saw a flaming glow on the horizon.

  “Damn!” Rowan cursed. “The camp’s on fire.”

  Chapter 23

  As she mounted a small rise above the camp, Rowan pointed to a worn dirt track leading to the top of the hill. “Take this side road here!” She maneuvered the car over the bumpy ground. “Okay. Stop here.” He jumped out and pulled out his diginocs. She watched him scan the burning camp. She climbed out too, and he handed her the diginocs. “It’s completely destroyed!”

  She raised them to her eyes and surveyed the camp. She saw an area where tents had been, where cars had been parked. Now only burning tarps and old buildings met her eyes, alongside burned-out husks of vehicles. Strange black lumps littered the ground. She pressed the zoom button on the nocs and realized that they were corpses, their black hands more like gnarled claws reaching out, as if grasping for air.

  He took back the nocs and switched on the thermal setting, then quickly lowered them. “Too bright. The fire will mask any signs of life.” He tried the bioscan to pick up any traces of heartbeats or breathing. For a long moment he scanned the camp and surrounding areas. Then he lowered them slowly. “Nothing. No survivors.”

  “What?” She grabbed the nocs from him and tried too. She searched for any sign of movement, but the flickering flames were all she could see.

  Rowan’s PRD beeped. He read it quickly. She recognized the fast scroll of the PPC comm channel that he’d tapped into with the prototype listening device. “The troops have moved on to Black Canyon Camp. They’re about to strike! We only have a few minutes to reach them!”

  She tossed him the keys, figuring if he knew the way, they could get there that much faster. He caught them in midair, then swung into the driver’s seat. She slid into the passenger side.

  “I won’t let them take Black Canyon Camp,” Rowan swore. He hit the accelerator, and she slammed back into her seat.

  They mowed over a number of dirt tracks, catching some air as they crested the hills. They could see the fires in Black Canyon Camp long before they reached it. It burned brightly on the horizon.

  H124 held onto the armrest as he sped across dirt and broken roads.

  Before long they parked the car on a rise and continued on foot, approaching the camp in darkness. When it came into view, H124 merely stared. Like the other site, dozens of tents and vehicles formed a makeshift encampment. But the scene was utter chaos. Badlanders had retreated to the edges of the bivouac, some taking shelter behind cars, others running for cover in the barren landscape beyond.

  PPC troopers closed ranks, moving as one, an impenetrable line of black-clad soldiers wearing shock trooper gear. She slapped her hands over her ears as the Badlanders fired an impressively huge gun mounted in the back of a rugged vehicle. A pulse of light split the night sky, blinding flashes followed by cacophonous booms. Some of the shock troopers fell, and the line broke.

  The death squad fired back, focusing their weapons on the Badlanders hiding behind the vehicles. The car with the mounted gun tumbled backward, the gunman screaming in agony as he rolled on the ground.

  “What was that?” she gasped. There had been no flash this time.

  “Sonic weapon,” Rowan said. “We’ve been unable to duplicate it.” He started running down the hill, drawing his own small handgun.

  She didn’t know what she could do to help, but she couldn’t just stand by. She raced after him, taking shelter behind a burning vehicle on the perimeter of the fighting. Rowan started firing, taking out two death squad soldiers.

  She pressed her back against the tire of the car, the rubber hot through her shirt. Cautiously she peered out, gauging the situation. If a lone PPC trooper was out there, maybe she could take him by surprise.

  About twenty feet away, a dead trooper lay, his energy discharge weapon on the ground beside him. It was the same kind carried by the Repurposers. She ran over at a crouch and picked it up. Then she hurried to a jeep that had escaped the fires. She crawled under the car on her knees and elbows, barely emerging on the other side. Then she fired the flash burster into the line of soldiers, taking down the two on the end. They fell hard into the dirt, twitching. One of them turned t
o her, lifting his sonic weapon. She scrambled out from under the car and took off just as a blast came barreling past. The jeep tumbled sideways, and she dove. He spun to hit her again, but he was taken out by the Badlanders, who had resurrected the mounted gun.

  She ran back to the overturned jeep, taking refuge on the far side of the skirmish. Catching her breath, she shinnied around the front of it, taking another look at whom she could hit next.

  One of the soldiers had broken away from the rest and fired his sonic gun at a lone man. The victim screamed, falling to his knees. As the trooper stepped to one side, she recognized the fallen man at once. Byron. She jumped and ran toward the trooper, hitting him in the back with the flash burster. His body spasmed as he met the dirt. Racing forward, she skirted around the back of the advancing line, coming at Byron from the side. He struggled in the dirt, trying to stand up. She rushed to him, throwing an arm around him. Blood streamed from his ears, and he gasped for breath as she helped him up.

  Already the trooper she’d hit was on his feet, shaking his helmeted head, trying to get his bearings. He lifted his weapon, focusing on her. She hit him again with the flash burster, and he staggered forward. But he wasn’t going down. As the electricity flashed through his armor, she realized it was shock-resistant. He raised the sonic gun, but she zapped him once more, trying to drag Byron to safety.

  Between her and the trooper lay a dead Badlander, hand still curled around a gun. As the trooper brought up his firearm again, she let go of Byron and dove for the weapon, fingers closing around the cold metal. She took aim and pulled the trigger, firing point-blank through the faceplate of the trooper’s helmet. He listed forward, then fell to his knees. Then his arm sagged, and he fell face first, landing in a heap.

  She stood over the trooper, hand trembling.

  “Thank you,” Byron breathed behind her. She turned, helping him up once more. “Thank you.”

  She lugged him over to a group of cars and gazed out at the battle. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The gun felt cold in her grip, and her mouth had gone dry. Her heart hammered. She looked out at the man she’d killed. She’d killed him. Now only four PPC soldiers still advanced, with more than a dozen Badlanders firing on them. As two more troopers went down, the remaining ones scattered, running for cover in separate directions.

  “We’re winning,” Byron whispered, bringing his hands to his ears. “Ugh. I feel like a ten-year-old MRE that someone spat out.”

  H124 watched from a distance as Rowan advanced on one of the last two soldiers, ducking and rolling as he fired off a shot that hit one squarely in the chest. She saw Astoria running along the perimeter of the camp. Leaping on the car the last soldier hid behind, Astoria brandished a vicious-looking knife with a serrated edge and crashed down on him. The car blocked what happened next, but H124 saw the blade appear again, slashing downward.

  A round of cheers roared up from the Badlanders. They all rose and came back down from their remote positions, raising their firearms in the air. Byron slumped down on the ground, grinning. “Can’t believe we sent them packing.”

  She heard Astoria calling out in the darkness. “Dirk?”

  “Here!” came a voice. Her brother staggered out of the shadows into the firelight, face battered and bleeding. Shrapnel protruded from both of his legs, and he collapsed. She rushed over to him, hugging him and rubbing an affectionate fist on his dreadlocks. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Fighting!” he replied.

  She went to work on his wounds at once.

  Rowan came into the clearing, holstering his gun. “H!”

  She stood up. “Here! I’m with Byron.”

  Rowan jogged over to her. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Saved my ass,” Byron said.

  Rowan grinned. “She does have a habit of doing that.”

  As everyone gathered in the center of camp, H124 heard something in the air. At first it was a dull, throbbing sound, a distant thunder she couldn’t quite place. It grew louder. “What is that?” she asked.

  Everyone quieted to listen.

  The thrumming grew, so low and powerful she could feel it vibrating in her chest.

  “What the—” Byron began.

  Then Rowan pointed to the sky. “Airship!”

  Everyone scattered into the darkness.

  “Take cover!” Rowan yelled. He pulled her with him, heading back toward the solar car. “C’mon, Byron! Move your ass!”

  Byron ran alongside them, leaping over mounds of dirt and smoking debris much to his discomfort. “What is it?” she asked between gasps.

  “We’re dead if that thing sees us.”

  Strange lights appeared on the horizon behind them. Beams flashed out, piercing the night.

  “It’s coming!” Byron screamed.

  At last they reached the car. Rowan wrenched open the driver’s door, sliding in. Byron hurried into the back, and she was the last to enter. As she closed the passenger door, she stared up into the sky. A massive airship appeared, a metal monstrosity thundering across the sky. Tremendous exhaust ports in its underbelly shot out columns of heated gusts, making the air shimmer. The engines thrummed so loudly now that it rattled her ears.

  Rowan peeled out, keeping the headlights off. Dazzling searchlights trolled the ground, finding the dead PPC soldiers and the overturned cars of the Badlanders.

  As they sped away, the airship gyred in a wider circle. She watched in horror as the light fell on a group of fleeing Badlanders. The low thrumming started to climb in tone, and then a brilliant flash erupted from the ship’s bow. The light took out half the hillside, incinerating the three Badlanders; one second they’d been there, running, and the next they were columns of ash blowing in the wind.

  H124 covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Oh, gods,” Byron said, staring out.

  Another blinding flash from the ship lit up a different patch of landscape, instantly vaporizing two more Badlanders who had been escaping in a jeep.

  “Get us the hell out of here, man,” Byron shouted from the back seat. Rowan whipped the car around. Then Byron spun in his seat. “No, wait! I see Dirk. He’s not going to make it!” Before either of them could say anything, Byron threw open the back door and rolled out.

  She watched him race away, limping slightly.

  “Are you crazy?” Rowan shouted after him.

  H124 couldn’t even see Dirk in the chaos.

  “Just get her the hell out of here!” Byron yelled back over his shoulder. Suddenly she saw Dirk just as Byron reached him. He was crawling on his belly, trying to make it up a hill.

  “Damn it!” Rowan cursed. He spun the car around, tearing off in their direction.

  Byron grabbed Dirk’s arms, half dragging him up the rise. Above them the airship wheeled in the sky, heading toward them. As Byron and Dirk crested the rise, almost near the car, a deafening boom cracked through the sky. H124 slapped her hands to her ears as the whole hill lit up, the white searing into her eyes. Rowan screeched the car to a halt.

  The light faded, and she stared out, her retinas so burned she could only see a bright circle. She blinked, and the circle turned from silver to blue to green. Then all she could see were the silhouettes of Byron and Dirk, the latter hanging off his friend’s shoulder, seemingly unconscious. They were still too far away. Rowan threw the car in gear, ready to close the distance.

  From the other side of the rise, a jeep roared up. “Get in!” the driver yelled to Byron. H124 recognized Astoria at the wheel. Byron hefted Dirk into the back seat of the jeep, then jumped in himself. And like that, they were roaring off in another direction.

  Keeping the headlights off, Rowan turned the car and sped back down the hill, weaving it over an old, dirt-packed road. They jostled and bumped along, hitting rocks so hard she expected the axle to cra
ck in half.

  The ship turned slowly, sending the beams of light in their direction. If it saw them, one blast would end their lives, their mission, and the world. For a brief second, she thought of that immense asteroid out there, hurtling toward them in the dark of space, and of the devastating impact it would have on the entire planet. Then she thought on the trifling war the PPC waged quietly on its citizens, as well as the overt one it waged on the Badlanders. If only they knew, if only they could all see the big picture, work together—

  A blast from the airship hit the ground in front of them.

  Chapter 24

  The solar car swerved as the ground before them turned to molten rock and fire. Rowan almost rolled the vehicle, righting it at the last second as he veered out of the blast’s way.

  He slid to a stop, changing direction. The beams followed them.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, gripping the armrest as he spun into a U-turn.

  He straightened the wheel and hit the accelerator. “Part of why this site was picked for a camp,” he said, skittering around a boulder, “is that there are old mine tunnels.”

  He pointed into the darkness. In the side of the hill, she saw a black aperture. He sped for it, and another blinding flash scorched the ground behind them. Her teeth clacked together as they sailed over a bump and slammed down hard on the other side.

  As the ship’s beam searched for them, they reached the mine opening and rocketed through. Rowan slammed on the brakes, then leaped out and ran back to the entrance, where he hit a button. A door slammed down. She got out. “These mine entrances are disguised,” Rowan told her. “Hopefully the airship didn’t see us enter.”

  She could hear the distant hum of the ship. It seemed to be moving away. “Will they land and try to find us on foot?”

  Rowan shook his head. “Airships usually have only have a few people on board—the pilot is also the gunner. They won’t risk coming down here, where they’d be outnumbered.”