by K A Riley
“So, is it just the two of you?” Roland asks. “Or are there others?”
“There are three others,” I say, pointing to the section of fence off in the distance where Cardyn, Rain, and Manthy are waiting for our all-clear signal. “Plus Render. But you don’t have to count him. He’ll fly.”
16
“I’ll get the others,” Brohn says. In a brisk jog, he trots off into the dark, leaving me alone with Vail and Roland.
Normally, the thought of being left alone with two strangers in an isolated, dimly-lit place like this might make me nervous, especially considering I might be in the process of losing my mind. But Vail and Roland are giving off vibes of honesty and authenticity. I sense I can trust them. If anything, they might be wondering to what degree they can trust me. After all, I’m the one seeing ghostly visions of bloody soldiers and non-existent dead girls in abandoned military barracks.
I’m puzzling over those visions, and Vail is just reassuring me and telling me not to worry about it when we hear Brohn’s voice in the distance calling out to the others through the fence that it’s all clear.
“He’s going to guide them around to where the tree is,” I explain. “It’s how we managed to get over the fence. Speaking of which, how did the two of you get in?” I intend it as an honest question, but I pump the brakes when I realize it might sound like an accusation.
Roland and Vail don’t seem offended. In fact, they exchange a pleasant laugh.
“Actually,” Roland boasts, “we were locked in.”
I must look confused, because Vail laughs again and points to a spot in the fence about a hundred yards away. “The main gate is over there. The only gate, actually. We slipped in when a Transport Truck was shipping out.”
“So there were soldiers here when you arrived?”
“About a dozen that we saw. Most of them were pulling crates and trunks along on grav-pads and loading everything into a supply truck. They were cleaning the place out. No guards on patrol. Wide open fence. No scan-cams or detectors or anything.”
“Everyone’s been relocated to the slums and cities and into those beastly Arcologies,” Roland sighs. “Forced migrations and all. No need for little desert outposts like this anymore when there’s no one left to watch over.”
“I guess.”
“Anyway,” Vail continues, “we knew we were on all kinds of watch lists from our supposed ‘Eastern Order associations’ and insurgent activities down south, but we were desperate for shelter and supplies, so we slipped in through the open gate and hid in that green tool shed over there. There was a bunch of shooting and shouting, and we thought we were busted, but nothing happened. So we hunkered down, and when it sounded like it was all clear, we came out and, sure enough, the place was abandoned, locked up tight from the outside with the laser-wire activated, and nothing else left except for us and this truck, which, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be in working order.”
“Although we’re going to see about that,” Roland says, flipping a silver hammer-sized tool in his hand.
“It’s nothing we can’t fix,” Vail boasts. “Their loss is our gain. With the micro-drills from the barracks and what we dug up from the supply shed, we hope to be able to scrounge enough good parts to get this monster working again. Otherwise, it’s back to walking the highway until we find civilization or else...”
“Or else what?” I ask.
Vail drops her smile. “Well, I guess there is no ‘or else.’”
“Did you say shooting before?”
“What?”
“You said you heard shouting and shooting.”
“Oh that. Yes. When we were in the shed. Definitely. We’ve heard enough of them to know what a military-issue Sig Sauer 2040 sounds like. We’ve seen too many folks like us gunned down over the years. Thought we were caught for sure.”
“You were so scared,” Roland teases.
“That’s because I’m not dumb enough to think I’m bullet proof,” she replies with a gentle push to his shoulder.
I scrunch up my face as a dozen tumbling thoughts caper around in my head. “Wait a second. What if the dead bodies I saw, the three men and the girl, what if the soldiers you heard were the ones who shot the people I saw? That would explain the gunfire, wouldn’t it?”
Roland digs his pinky into his ear like he’s trying to clear water out after a long swim. “I guess it’s possible that we heard those people getting shot. But if that’s the case, they were taken away in one of the Transport Trucks before you arrived, which means you couldn’t have possibly seen them. I mean, they’re not there anymore, right? And I don’t imagine they got shot, were left for dead, and then decided to spring back to life, climb the fence, and make their grand escape.”
Now I’ve got a major migraine clomping its way through my temples, and I’m hoping Brohn and the others get here quick because something strange is going on, and I’m terrified it might all be in my head. It’s not helping that Vail and Roland are now staring at me like they’re having second thoughts about helping out a girl who’s not only apparently seeing ghostly visions of dead people but who might also believe in fence-climbing zombies.
I’m saved from having to offer up an explanation by Brohn, who trots out of the dark with Rain, Cardyn, and Manthy in tow. They step from the rough desert floor up onto the silver parking pad. After a quick round of introductions, I explain to Brohn and the others about how Vail and Roland are planning to repair the military vehicle and that they’re willing to take us with them.
“More than willing,” Vail insists. “We owe it to you. On behalf of our own kids and all the others who are getting swept up in this pointless fear-mongering.”
Just as she’s saying this, Render swoops down and lands on the top of the big gray truck. Vail and Roland are startled by the sudden flurry of movement.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “That’s just Render.”
“A lot of people think of ravens as a bad omen, but not us,” Vail boasts as her shoulders relax. “We have a raven of our own back home.”
“You do?”
“Jeff,” Roland says.
“Jeff the raven?” Rain asks with a chuckle.
Roland shrugs. “He’s named after my grandfather. Jeff’s one of the family. My folks are taking care of him now.”
I can only assume that they’re talking about some sort of semi-domesticated family pet and choose not to ask any more questions. I’d rather not explain that Render and I have a semi-psychic connection that turns my eyes black and apparently makes me go slightly mad.
Turning to Roland, Vail rubs her hands together like a greedy diner on her way to an all-you-can-eat buffet. “If you’re willing to keep our new friends company, I’ve got a truck to resuscitate.”
Vail drops to the ground and crawls under the big truck while Roland rearranges wires in an open access panel by the side door. As he pulls and untangles the colorful filaments, he tells us about his life back home with Vail. It turns out they have kids about our age. “A girl and a boy. Heather and Liam.” His voice gets quiet as he tells us how they enlisted in the fight against the Order.
“We’re pacifists. We raised the kids to be opposed to violence in all its forms. But as the Freedom Wars went on, our kids became more and more convinced that some invading horde was going to come breaking down our door at any minute and kill us all in our sleep. They were afraid. Terrified, actually. Despite all our assurances, all our lectures, all the locks we put on the doors and those stupid bars we put up on the windows, they couldn’t sleep anymore. All they knew was fear. That’s the power of propaganda.”
After a few more minutes of hearing from Roland about the kids, parents and the pets they left behind, Vail slides out from under the truck, pops to her feet, and announces that she’s fixed the solar cell but that she hasn’t had any luck with the grav-pads. “It’s a lock-down system,” she tells us. “The network pathways need certain lines of code to run, but the processor is loaded with a
ll kinds of encryption I can’t come close to figuring out. Which means the truck’ll start, but we can’t move it off the parking pad.”
Roland hangs his head. “No luck here, either. Got the ignition network running just fine, but the navigation system is off-line, and I can’t get it back on. But if we can’t move the truck, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Vail stops and looks at us, startled that we’ve all gone quiet. “What?” she stammers. “What is it?”
We hear her, of course. But we’re all staring at Manthy.
Manthy takes a big step back, shakes her head, and puts her hands up in defiance. “No,” she says. “No way.”
Brohn says, “Manthy…”
“I don’t know how.”
Then it’s Rain’s turn. “Manthy…please…”
“I can’t do it. Plus, it hurts.”
I step forward. “We need your help. You’re the only one who can…”
But Manthy isn’t swayed. It seems she left her powers back in the Processor and doesn’t want to revisit them for anything.
Vail and Roland are looking at us like we’re speaking in Chinese. “What’s happening?” Vail asks, her face contorted in a puzzled frown. “What are you asking her to do?”
“Manthy here has certain…abilities,” Brohn explains.
“Abilities?”
“I don’t have anything of the kind,” Manthy objects. She looks even more skittish than usual, and I half expect her to turn around and bolt off into the desert night. But Cardyn steps forward, his hands out like he’s calming down a rabid dog.
“Think of it like this,” he says. “You just happen to speak a second language, and the rest of us can’t. There’s nothing freakish about it, and it’s not an unusual thing to be able to do. Not when you really think about it. All kinds of people have skills and can do all kinds of things. This is your thing. I don’t know if it’s a gift or a curse or just a fluke of nature. But whatever it is, it’s yours and what matters is how you use it. It might also be our only chance to get out of here and reach some kind of civilization.”
Vail and Roland continue to stare at us while we stare at Manthy, who has her fists balled up tight and her legs tense like she’s debating whether to run or tuck herself into an armadillo-style ball.
Vail finally breaks the silent stalemate. “I have an idea. How about if someone tells us what on earth the five of you are talking about?”
“Manthy might be able to help us out,” Brohn explains rather cryptically and without taking his eyes off of our quietly-snarling friend. “But she has to want to.”
Vail looks from Manthy to Brohn and back to Manthy, who finally looks up, still sporting a furious frown.
“Fine. I can do it,” Manthy grumbles to Vail as she shoulders past Cardyn and then pushes her way through the rest of us on her way to the front of the truck. “I can fix the problem with the solar cell and grav-pad release.”
Clearly stunned, Vail jogs after Manthy, and the two of them disappear around the front end of the massive vehicle. I feel kind of bad about it, but I can’t help laughing a little as we explain it all in more detail to Roland.
“Manthy has a way with technology,” I tell him.
“An amazing way,” Card jumps in. “She’s not the one you want if you need someone to give a big speech or socialize at a cocktail party. But when it comes to stuff like this, well…there’s honestly no one better. I can’t explain it, but trust me.”
Roland asks a few questions about Manthy’s abilities, and we do our best to answer, although we’re quick to confess that, like us, even she might not know the extent of what she’s capable of.
“And I recommend not asking her,” Cardyn warns. “She has a temper and a wicked right-cross. Not the kind of combination I recommend exploring.”
Roland promises he won’t raise the subject again. Instead, he tells us some more about his family and life down south. “We lived in Santa Fe,” he says. When we hear that name we all go dead quiet and stare at one another. Finally, Rain steps forward to tell the story of the three people from the cave.
“I don’t think we know them,” Roland says. “But they definitely sound like some of the folks we ran with down there. In the end, the place was a mess. No one trusted anyone anymore. Everyone had become the enemy. Reason flew out the window. Sanity was optional. Honestly, I’m not totally surprised the folks you met were a little…off the rails.”
The sound of the truck bellowing to life startles us, and we all jump in unison.
Vail and Manthy return from inside the truck with Vail beaming in triumph and Manthy looking miserable and pale, like she’s just expended the last of her energy.
“Your friend here is an absolute wizard,” Vail gushes. “She said more to the truck than she said to me. And I don’t know what they talked about, but she was apparently pretty convincing! Anyway, it works, and it’s free of the grav-lock.”
Roland claps his hands together. “Let’s step inside and have a look around.” He pulls open the heavy sliding door, and we step onto the small metal ladder leading into the vehicle. Roland sounds like a proud father as he launches into an explanation of the truck’s specs.
“This ugly, boxy baby,” he gushes, “is the Tatrapan MPAV. That’s a Multi-Purpose Armored Vehicle. They stopped making this particular model in 2022 when the amphibious version came out, so this one is probably more suited to a museum than to being on the road.” Ducking down, Roland points to various parts of the truck’s interior. “As you can see, it has an eight-seat configuration with two forward-facing captain’s chairs up front in the cab and two bench seats seating three-a-piece back here in the cabin. Nav-comm system would normally be here, but, as you can see, it’s been ripped out. Pretty carelessly, I must say. This MPAV is strictly a personnel-carrier, but they can be outfitted for ambulance, communication, or combat duty depending on what’s needed. This one has a gun mount up top, but, again, as you can see, no ammo and the scope and trigger systems have been removed. In the old days, these ran just on diesel. This one’s still an oil-sucker and gas-guzzler, but it’s been partially retro-fitted with a magnetic starter and a solar-cell recharger with a rear-mounted back-up tank. Oh, and it’s armored top to bottom and back to front.”
“Don’t mind him,” Vail apologizes when Roland finally takes a breath. “He was a purchaser in President Krug’s army for about two minutes, and now he thinks he’s Mr. Know-it-all.”
Roland blushes and drops his hands to his sides. “Not my fault if I picked up a few things.”
In the dark, cramped space of the truck’s interior, we gaze around at the various storage compartments, gauges, and empty munitions racks. Panels are missing from parts of the inside walls with clumps of wires and copper-colored valves exposed. The seats are barely bolted to the floor anymore, and darks stains of oil and dirt cover nearly every surface. I can see why the soldiers Vail and Roland were hiding from left it behind. Even with the engine in perfect working order, it doesn’t look like it’d be much good for anything other than possibly getting from point A to point B and maybe not even that.
“Stripped clean,” Roland says sadly. “Too bad. Would’ve been nice to have some provisions or weapons or something.”
“We don’t do weapons,” Vail says. “Besides, thanks to Manthy, we’ll be in Salt Lake City in four hours instead of a couple of weeks.”
Vail crawls through the tight opening between the cabin and the cab and slips into the driver’s seat.
“Are you going to join me?” Vail asks Manthy.
Roland nods his approval to Manthy, and, with her head down and her tangle of dark brown hair bunched into a scruffy ponytail, she follows Vail into the cab and slides into the passenger seat.
Fine clouds of red dust puff up as the rest of us drop down onto the two hard steel benches on either side of the cabin. Brohn eases down next to me, for which I’m grateful. With Vail at the helm and Manthy as her co-pilot, the truck lurches forward, sputtering
and grinding in painful spasms. In the cabin, we jostle against each other, and Vail calls back for us to hang on. The rumbling rig covers the length of the base in a bouncy chug until we reach the fence, and Vail pilots the truck straight through without hesitation or resistance. Slamming around hard to the left, the truck plows onto the very road we spent so many days and weeks walking after our escape from the Processor and after we said our sad but necessary goodbyes to Adric and Celia and their crew.
After about twenty minutes of slamming into each other, we all settle in and relax into the liberating feeling of being on the open road. And it really does feel amazing!
The truck’s cabin is wide and windowless with low ceilings, and only Rain is able to stand up in it without cracking her head. But it offers a tangible sense of safety and security, something I haven’t felt in…well, ever.
In the Valta, there weren’t many mag-cars, even before the war began. Everyone made their way around on foot. Some of the kids had mag-bikes, the hovering kind my dad said people used to race back East. The closest I ever came to an experience like this was the seemingly endless time we Seventeens spent in the military transport truck that took us from the Valta to the Processor. But that was a stress-filled, terrifying, and violently rocky ride in a windowless rig with two armed guards ready to blast our heads off if we even thought about stepping out of line.
Compared to that, this is a luxury cruise.
Although the highway is deeply cratered in most places, Vail turns out to be an expert navigator. She skims around the larger blast holes and depressions and manages to glide right over some of the smaller ones. The huge truck bounces and dips like a galloping horse, but it does it all with a certain strength and confidence like it’s a living creature that knows its limits but hasn’t yet reached them.
“We’ve got three wheels on each side with one forward axle and two in the back,” Roland tells us. “The absorbers and stabilizers prevent excessive jostling.” He goes on to get into all the technical specs about the transport—everything from wheel size to engine torque—but I’m too absorbed in trying to lean close enough to the front windows to watch the scenery fly by to pay much attention. Rain, on the other hand, is hanging on his every word and seems to understand what he’s talking about. For all her snarkiness and sarcasm, Rain is a dedicated learner whose brain has got us a lot further than anyone else’s brawn ever could.
