by Patti Larsen
Darkness is just beginning to fall, the sun behind us still lighting the path ahead, though in long and haunting shadows, when I notice the glitter of glass up ahead. Soon we are forced to slow because of cars on the road, finally falling to a creep as the long line of abandoned vehicles stretches out ahead for miles.
This is what I feared, come to life. I spot a sign for Cleveland and know we've crossed a great distance, but we still have far to go and, from the looks of this back up of cars, our easy ride has come to an end.
Duet pulls to the side to avoid them, driving on the shoulder thick with weeds, but it's not long before she's forced to return to the rippled asphalt and stop. The green-tinted headlights beam out into the night, shining over cars lined up into the distance.
“No more tonight,” Duet says. Her human eye blinks slowly at me, weariness much more apparent now. Does she continue to feed the truck power as we go? I haven't thought to ask her such questions, feeling a sudden spell of guilt over allowing her to stretch herself so thin.
I turn down the music as I reach out and squeeze her hand. “You're right,” I say with a sigh, knowing how close we are, that a mere five hundred miles remains for us to cross, seeming so short compared to the distance we've already come. But I must be patient. It’s not only nearly impossible to navigate by night, but there are likely dangers lurking in the shadows. Daylight will help us weave our way through this mess. And, more importantly, Duet needs to sleep.
I'm about to turn toward the back of the truck, to find us supper and retrieve the magical pillows I found, almost giddy at the thought of using one again, when I spot something out of the corner of my eye. It's enough to make me freeze, to bring Duet's head around, eyes locked on mine, green one an eerie glow in the darkness.
“Something,” she says.
I turn my head, look around. The moon is just starting to rise, lighting the graveyard of cars. I flinch from the sight of bodies inside, past the dirty glass, trying to locate the source of movement. A breeze has picked up, clouds rolling in again. The rain I pondered earlier is chasing us, followed as we drove. I don't see anything out there, despite both of our sudden attention. It's likely I simply spotted something blowing in the wind.
Or not. I see it again, definitely movement, and not just debris stirred by Mother Nature. Whatever, whoever watches us is careful, stays low to the ground behind a row of cars, but the activity is smooth and precise. Controlled.
We're not alone, it seems.
***
Chapter Six
Duet's face contorts, her metal half twisting in anger, this time the faster side to act. I see her green eye flash, know her rage is rising and grab her hands before she can do something foolish.
“Get them,” she snarls.
“They can't hurt us in here,” I say. “We're safe, Duet.”
She growls like an animal, terrifying, though she stays where she is. “Hurt us.”
“They can't, Duet.” I reach out and lock the doors, using the button on the console controlling them, hear the click as the truck obeys even as it shudders its unhappiness, tied to Duet. “They can't break in. We're fine. Let them try.”
A low moan rises from her, the scent of burning plastic and overtaxed metal ready to fail filling the cabin. I fear suddenly she might break, mind shattering as she fights for control, but after a moment she stills, the terrible frown fading a little.
“Let them try,” she says. Before I can stop her, she turns and opens the door, the lock snicking free, before she lurches from the cab after our observers.
I find myself cursing, using language I remember from Beckett, as I follow her. She's easy to see in the dark, half of her glowing green, vanishing at times around dark blobs of cars only to reappear again. My feet trip over the broken pavement, body stumbling into rusted cars, forcing me to touch them though I shiver with distaste every time I'm forced to do so. It's as though I'm invading tombs, defiling the rest of the dead with each encounter.
I continue to see movement ahead of her, running from her, just barely visible in the moonlight. Leading us on, as though this chase has a purpose.
It's not until I hear the roar of the SUV engine I realize I'm right. Their lure wasn't to harm us at all, but to pull us away so they could steal our vehicle. Despair hits me like a weighted fist, almost driving me to my knees as I halt, panting and grim, before spinning to run back, though I know it's too late.
Duet's laughter brings me to an abrupt halt. She slides from the darkness to join me, snickering behind her hands while I try to come up with any reason she might be amused by what's happening to us.
“Listen,” she says, leaning close to my ear. “Just listen.”
As quickly as the engine came to life it dies again and I shake myself. Of course. The truck lives, at least as much as Duet has given it life. It's quite probable whoever is trying to steal it can't do so without Tek blood. Relief replaces my despair, pushing me to move. Duet is already gliding back toward where we'd parked. Someone swears up ahead as we sneak closer, voices arguing in whispers carrying over the tops of the derelicts surrounding us.
I follow my sister back, slower this time, reaching the SUV to spot five figures standing around the open driver's door, still arguing. I crouch next to her, see her grinning like a lunatic, the light of her blood casting terrible shadows over her face. She winks her human eye before pointing at the SUV. It's silent, as dead as any of the other cars, not a hint of the Tek ichor showing in the dark. We observe the shadows as they continue to fight, Duet with both hands pressed over her mouth to smother giggles.
I move to rise, to chase off the intruders, only to feel her hand on my arm. She pulls me back down beside her, metal hand reaching out toward the truck.
“Watch,” she whispers, hilarity in her voice. “I make a funny.”
Before I can ask her what she means, Duet grunts, her green Tek blood surging. The SUV blinks suddenly with light, green glow brightening everything. The five figures freeze, spin to stare. I just have time to realize they are only little children when the music blares to life, louder than I've heard it yet, engine roaring like a demon, entire vehicle shaking and rumbling as though it's about to attack them.
The small shadows shriek in terror and scatter.
Duet laughs, deep, happy laughter, kind of echoey like metal, the occasional snort punctuating her amusement. I stare at the now quiet truck, as shocked as the poor kids who ran from it, unable to breathe for a moment.
Until my laughter breaks free and I finally join her. It’s horrible, what we've been through, what's happened to this world, these people. But in that instant, with those kids running from the angry truck, I'm finally able to see the hilarity in this life, too.
I hug my sister as she continues to snicker, howling peals finally over. “How?”
She shrugs, wiping tears from her human cheek. “We're one,” she says.
We rise together, Duet skipping happily forward. I follow her back to the SUV at a more sedate pace, smile as she leans forward and hugs the truck as if it's a favorite pet that's done very well. Though perhaps I should be, I'm no longer worried I have only her for company. She might be damaged, yes, but she knows exactly what she's doing.
***
Chapter Seven
As Duet reaches the driver's door, I catch another glint of movement beside me and dodge in time to catch the arm of my watcher. A boy's voice squeals, his body flailing and kicking as I jerk him forward and into the light streaming from the inside the SUV.
He's scrawny, filthy, stinks of old earth and decay. But he's normal, at least in appearance, just a boy trying to survive. I wonder how he's escaped the Sick for so long as I shake him gently.
“Don't be afraid,” I say. “We won't hurt you.”
He stares at Duet as if she's preparing to devour him, mouth gaping open, a soft hu-hu-hu sound emerging from his thin chest. Duet approaches, head tilted to one side.
“Child,” she says. “Why are yo
u afraid?”
To me it's a rather silly question. Until I remember where I found my sister clone. She'd been rescued by the Teks, brilliant and powerful, but passive. And kind to each other. To Duet, despite the attacks on the Tek stronghold by Howls and Brights, day-to-day life must have seemed peaceful.
The boy shudders so hard in my grip I worry he might be having a seizure. Then he collapses, giving in, eyes rolling back into his head as the scent of releasing urine reaches me.
“Let him go!” I'm suddenly being assaulted by little hands, fists and feet, as two girls and another boy attack me. Duet stares in curiosity, making no move to rescue me and I find it hard not to grin at the pack of mangy children doing what they can to rescue their friend.
I lay my captive gently on the ground as the kids keep up their weak attempt to harm me. When he's out of my grip, they back off, panting, one little girl glaring at me with the savage eyes of a wild animal. Which she is, really. They all are.
My amusement is gone in the wake of my pity. “It's all right,” I say. “Really.”
They circle slowly until they stand together, a pitiful assault team. They must have been desperate to attack us and I have no doubt they are the very ones who tried to steal our truck.
“Why are you here?” Duet's voice is soft. Does she understand after all? Know more than I give her credit for?
The girl who seems to lead them shrugs, the animal look on her face fading to emptiness.
“Haven't seen one of these run.” At least, that's what I think she says. Her words all flow together, garbled and distorted as though she learned to speak from someone who didn't quite understand the language.
I glance at Duet who still observes with curiosity. “We didn't mean to frighten you.”
The girl looks down at her friend as he groans softly. “Not scared,” she says. “Hungry.”
Of course. Though it takes me a moment to decipher, “Unry.”
I don't hesitate, going right for the back of the SUV and our supplies. The kids clearly didn't have time to find our food, the stash intact. I retrieve several cans before returning and handing them out.
The kids stare at the meals in their hands as if I've given them the most precious thing in the world. I take turns opening each can, tears rising in my eyes as the kids drool, open-mouthed, over the cold beans.
“Thank you,” the girl says, sounding like, “Tunk oh,” before she upends the can over her mouth and begins to swallow.
I have to turn away, from the grunting sounds of their meal, the desperate looks on their little faces, the disturbing sight of them crouched like savages over their prize, snarling and shuffling at each other when one comes too close. There are things I can make myself notice, and others so heartbreaking I have no choice but to hide from. Their desperate hunger is one of those things my heart does not want to see.
It's not long before I realize we're not alone. More kids, many more, at least two dozen, stand on the outer edge of view, watching us like wraiths who don't dare to come into the light. Soul aching but welcoming the distraction, I go to the back of the SUV for more food.
Duet grabs my hand as I do. “Ours,” she says.
I simply stare at her, letting my tears fall and she finally grunts and releases my hand.
Feeding these children, focusing on giving them what they need is enough to block out their hopelessness. I'm helping.
For now, at least.
They don't attack. I'm a little surprised how gently they wait, considering they have to be starving, their emaciated little bodies trembling with need. Each takes a can in turn, only becoming barbaric when they actually have their own meal to devour. I'm weeping openly, unable to stop the tears from falling, as child after child comes forward to take a can in hand, little fingers shaking as they turn away to crouch and devour what must be their first real meal in a long time.
It makes me wonder on what they possibly survive. But I can't go there, can't consider the possibilities.
Can't.
Food gone, they drift away, ghosts in the darkness until only the original four remain. Again I'm surprised they don't attack, try to take the rest of our supplies, but Duet's control of the SUV must be enough to keep them from trying.
“Was good.” The girl wipes at her lips with one filthy sleeve, the bits of material barely holding together as it is.
“You're welcome,” I say.
Duet turns, climbs into the SUV. The kids watch her with something very much like awe. The boy who struggled against me actually comes to stand close, his little hand sliding into mine, other thumb going into his mouth.
How can life be this cruel? How can something so terrible happen to these, the most innocent of all? I ignore his reek, pulling him gently to me for a hug. When I let him go, his eyes are huge, but not out of fear.
When the girl approaches, I hug her, too. I can tell from the way she embraces me she's not a stranger to hugs. But her hesitation tells me it's been a very long time since anyone cared for her.
For any of them.
Beckett told me children were rare. How then were they here, now, alone?
I don't think, simply open the back door of the truck and start shoving supplies aside until there's enough space for the four tiny kids to slide in.
Duet grunts at me, scowling again, green eye flickering with anger. “No.”
“Yes.” I join her in the front seat as the four kids cuddle together, while I spread a blanket over them, even let them have my precious pillow. And Duet's. They've earned it. “Yes, Duet.”
She shakes her head, but I catch her hand and squeeze it.
“They have no one,” I say. “And we have each other.”
She sighs, the anger fading, but she's clearly unhappy, turning away from me. I hear the locks click, know she's sealed us inside for the rest of the night. Just as well. Though the stench from the now sleeping kids is almost overwhelming, there is no way I'm putting them out of the truck.
***
I open my eyes to a little face shoved into mine. The little leader of our pack studies me carefully, her hazel gaze open and without guile. I can see more details of her now, the delicate shape of her face, how I'm sure if she were cleaned up, tamed, she'd be a sweet-faced little thing.
“Giant,” she says. “That's me.”
Giant. A funny name for such a tiny girl, though I have no doubt she has the heart to match it.
“Trio,” I say before pointing to my sister, now visible in the morning light. “Duet.”
Giant grunts. “Gps.” She gestures at the boy I first caught. His teeth are crooked and very yellow, a gap in the front. But his blue eyes are piercing in the light, fringed with thick black lashes that would make him beautiful if he were clean. “Tire.” The other boy blinks slowly, so dirty it's impossible to guess his race, though his very dark eyes and fuzzy hair tell me he might be black. “Rope.” Another girl, taller than Giant but with a tremor running down one side of her body. Her dark eyes only meet mine a moment, though I hugged her the night before, a tiny smile lifting her wide mouth before she drops her face again, mats of thick, long hair hanging over her face like a curtain.
Their names, where did they find such names? Understanding dawns as I look out the windshield. The cars. Whoever gave them these names used the cars, the words written on them. In them. This field of death, this stretch of decaying highway, is their home, likely the only one they've ever known.
“Where you go?” Giant runs one grubby finger over my cleaner skin as if she's never seen anything like me before.
“Far away,” I say. “We've been traveling a long distance.”
She ponders my words a moment. “You need more food?” This one takes me a bit to translate, though when I decipher “nad” and “fud” I understand at last.
“We don't.” I gesture at the back of the SUV. We have plenty to reach New York. Or at least I hope so.
She grunts, pulls away. Leans close again. “We need more food.�
��
She said 'we'. Heart-wrenching, that little face, the desperation. She is the leader here, then. And despite her fears, the uncertainties of this world, she is looking out for her people. My affection for her grows by the moment. She could simply look out for herself, not worry about the others. But here is a heart strong enough to survive anything, to gather others together and keep them going.
Giant indeed.
I nod. “You want some of ours?”
She shakes her head as though I've insulted her. “Thank you,” she says. “We need our own.”
Gps pokes her, face flushed under the filth, but she shoves him back, determination clear.
“You know where some is.” I glance at Duet who watches in silence, face flat and empty, as mechanical as the truck we sit in.
Giant nods. “Close,” she says. “Real close. But.”
I wait, allow her to work up her nerve, to tell me what she obviously doesn't want to tell me, what Gps and Rope and Tire all seem afraid of.
“Dead ones,” she says at last. “Everywhere.”
Duet turns away even as I connect the dots.
“Shambles,” I say. “They protect the food?”
Giant shrugs. “Just everywhere,” she says. “Don't eat it.” Her face scrunches in anger. “Try and try. Plan and sneak. Hate water, dead ones. But nothing. Too many.” I can tell she’s as irritated with the fact she can’t communicate fully what she’s trying to say with her limited vocabulary as she is with the obviously numerous attempts she’s made to reach the food.
I can only imagine her frustration. Food available, endless plotting and attempts under her clever belt, but no way to reach it. I don't think any of her kids would be strong enough to take on a pack of the living zombies. Which makes me wonder, suddenly.
“Giant,” I say, half formed thoughts in my head, “are they smart?” The only Shambles I’d had contact with seemed mindless. But then again, I’d been surrounded by them in the dark. For all I knew, their blank expressions hid as much intelligence and ability to plan as the other manifestations of the Sick.
