When we were kids, we got to see a lot of films about what great things our government was doing. The Ministry of Environment and Canadian Film Board had a fairly prolific run before the grid started packing up and then their campaigns were reduced to small commercial sound bytes that utilized less energy and, frankly, cost less. My great grandpa said it reminded him of the old cold war preparation movies, with little kids hiding under their desks, protecting themselves from a nuclear attack. I’d laughed when he’d told me that, but he assured me the films had been in earnest.
“Let’s watch the clip, one more time and see if we can find something definitive to send us one way or the other.”
“What about the letter and those numbers on it, aren’t they GPS co-ordinates?” asked Cedar.
“I guess so, but what good are they? All the satellites have stopped transmitting and we don’t have a receiver to calculate the information. We don’t even have a map to plot them ourselves.” When I’d first seen the numbers, I’d been really hopeful, but what good were co-ordinates with no way to track them? It’s not like I’d memorized the global longitude and latitude lines. I caught myself chewing on my fingernail as I frowned disconsolately. I felt like we had to keep moving; the threat of the drones, whether government or foreign, weighed on me and I wanted to get as far away from the bio-domes as I could.
Jake dutifully ran the clip again and I caught the image of a bridge, collapsing in to the water, as wave after wave crashed up over its deck. The span was long – really long and something about it seemed familiar. Then came the commercial, with the singing men; something about potatoes, or so I thought. A bridge and potatoes that was all we were likely to get as a clue. The waves that had destroyed the bridge had been a muddy red colour and at first I thought that someone had taken a bit of poetic license with the film, but I realized that the rust colour could be from heavy copper in the soil and that’s when it hit me.
“East,” I sounded confident, even to myself.
“East? Are you sure Dax?” Cedar looked concerned. If we made a mistake we could run out of supplies before getting to wherever Reg wanted us to go.
“Positive. Jake you’re right, we’re heading east.” What I didn’t tell them was that our final destination was very likely unreachable, if it was the place I thought it was. Time enough to worry about that later, we were burning day light and I wanted to get a move on. “Let’s load up.”
We were forced to drive slightly north, as we looked for a way to cross the dry river bed of one of the St. Lawrence tributaries. The floods had carved deep chasms, where gentle river banks once had been and as we searched we made our way higher into the mountains that bordered the city.
We finally came to a bridge, perched high above the river bed. I stopped the vehicle and climbed out, wondering how I could check the bridge condition. Cedar has just finished telling us a story of a family who had carelessly driven over a bridge whose footings had been undermined by the flood waters that raged during the big melt. The story hadn’t ended well and I had hoped to avoid repeating it. Cedar climbed out and stood beside me, on the edge of the precipice, straining our eyes to assess the pilings. My stomach reeled a little bit and my privates clenched in an uncomfortable way as I checked out the drop.
“I’ll walk across and see if anything shifts,” I offered manfully, swallowing a mild case of vertigo.
“I don’t think that will do much good,” scoffed Cedar. “Unless the bridge is so damaged that your weight collapses it,” she added, getting a kick out of my rapidly paling face. “Just go, I’m sure it will be fine.”
I tried not to tippy toe, as I walked onto the bridge deck. The roadway itself looked in good condition and the bridge felt sturdy under my feet, but what did I know? About a quarter of the way across, I planted my feet wide and tried to make the bridge sway side to side. It struck me as mildly ridiculous, as the crossing had four lanes and a divided median. How could my 96 kilos budge something so substantial? I hopped up and down for good measure and then returned to the car.
“It seems sturdy enough.” I tried to sound confident, like if I believed it enough, then the bridge wouldn’t crash down as we passed over it. “Let’s go.” Cedar and I got back in to Betsy and I navigated onto the bridge. I perked my ears for any ominous creaks while simultaneously pressing down harder on the gas pedal. We clocked a 104kmh by the time we got to the other side. So much for the old adage “haste makes waste”, I thought to myself. I let my foot off the accelerator a little and the car slowed to a respectable 60 kilometres an hour. The eco-sail was converting enough energy to keep the battery at capacity and I started to think that maybe, just maybe we might survive this.
After driving along in silence for an hour or so, I could tell that Jake and Blossom were getting fidgety and I was starting to get hungry, so I pulled over in the shade of the mountain and got out to stretch. Everyone must have been of the same mind, as they piled out of the car with all due haste and made for the insta-meal case.
We’d eaten lunch in a leisurely fashion, well as leisurely as one can chew a food bar and enjoyed a bag of water. We planned to set up the water extractor when we found a place to camp for the night, just to see if the thing would work, but that was hours off and we were all reluctant to climb back in to the car when the heat was quite bearable in the shade. I stretched, enjoying the slight stiffness still left in my muscles from working so hard the day before. Blossom was going through her calisthenics routine and Cedar joined her, showing her some moves that would also work as self defence if necessary. I did a check for Jake and was relieved to see him appear around the hairpin turn. I didn’t like having the kids out of my sight if possible, at least not for long and I’d given them fairly strict instructions to let me know where they were going if they needed privacy. Of course, this had been met with expressions of mild defiance, but I’d insisted and threatened all sorts of repercussions if my one rule was violated. They’d valiantly managed not to laugh in my face and had agreed with only the slightest egregiousness.
We were all dozing a little in the cool shade when a high pitched buzzing brought me to attention. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I probably never would have believed Blossom, but at the buzzing got louder, I watched as the car slowly faded to invisibility. It could only mean one thing; a drone was nearby and we were out in the open.
“Get to the car!” I said as loudly as I dared, not taking my eyes of the vehicle’s location. I got up and sprinted to where I thought the car might be and used my hands to find the drivers door. It was disconcerting to see my fingers disappear as I wrapped them around latch. The kids piled in behind me, as I’d opened the side door and not the drivers’ and Cedar heaved herself through the front passenger door. We gently closed the doors, knowing that the drone likely had sensitive sound equipment on board. We saw the UAV crest the mountain and we all held our breath as it hovered over the apex.
I looked it over carefully. This one wasn’t like the shiny metal ones that I’d seen before. This was a dull black and much smaller than the standard government drones I was familiar with. After a slight pause, it dove down to where we’d been picnicking and I saw a motorized arm reach out and pick something up from the ground. The glint told me it was an insta-meal wrapper and I swallowed a groan of anxiousness. There was no telling whose it was, as we’d all tried to be careful, but obviously not careful enough. The drone didn’t stay much longer, but it seemed confounded not to have found whatever it was looking for; presumably us. It zipped back and forth over our picnic area several times and then headed over the mountain, back the way it had come.
“That was close,” whispered Jake, letting out a large breath. “Like, way too close.” He flicked his bangs out of his eyes, but automatically pulled them back down in an impatient gesture.
“Yeah, we’d better get out of here, before it comes back,” agreed Blossom, hugging her knees to her chest and giving a little shudder. I looked at Cedar and her pressed lips and sti
ff jaw line made me even more nervous. Even though I didn’t want to scare the kids, I had to ask her about the UAV.
“It wasn’t a government drone, was it?” She shook her head negatively and drew in a quick breath to resettle herself.
“No, I don’t think so. It didn’t seem to have any missile ports and I’ve never seen a government tracker without weapons.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail she could. “This one was wicked fast, too, and whoever is operating it knows what they’re looking for. Jake’s right, we’d better go, even if the UAV can’t see us in the car, the operator will find a way to pick up our trail. It’s lucky the damned thing didn’t fly into us.”
Without any further debate, I floored the accelerator and went as quickly down the mountain road as I was able. At least there wasn’t much sand, and as we sped down the winding highway, we caught glimpses of blue green patches of lichen that was producing just enough oxygen for us to survive.
We’d been driving for about an hour and a half when Blossom broke the silence.
“Hey what’s that in the sky, over that peak?” She was looking off to the right at a splotch of white in the bright blue sky.
“It’s just jet stream from a drone,” Jake replied dismissively. I took a closer look, but couldn’t take my eyes off the road from more than a fraction of a second, as the track wound back and forth around the highest peaks of Laurentian foothills.
“I don’t think so,” said Cedar, squinting her eyes in an attempt to make out exactly what she was seeing, “the shape is too round and well, it’s kind of puffy.” She shrugged and looked at me, wanting an explanation. Fortunately the road curved around so I was looking right at the peak of the hill they’d all been staring at. My memory provided the word for me right away, but intellectually, I couldn’t accept the answer. I stared hard at the cloud, wondering for my sanity, but it couldn’t be anything else and three other people had also seen it. I couldn’t help it; I stopped the car to stare at the little white shape.
“It looks like a cloud.” I didn’t want to sound definitive about it; the environmental implications were mind boggling and I certainly wasn’t a meteorologist.
“A cloud? Really?” repeated Cedar almost giving herself whiplash as she turned back to stare at the object. It was just a wispy translucent bit of fluff that hung on the peak of one of the distant mountains.
“So it’s a cloud, whatever that is.” Blossom shrugged. Apparently she’d determined that it couldn’t hurt us and immediately lost interest. Cedar and I exchanged a rapid glance that communicated both amazement and disbelief.
“Okay, I’ll bite, what’s a cloud?” enquired Jake, having noticed the exchange of expressions between us.
“It’s evaporated moisture,” explained Cedar.
“Oh.” Jake sounded disappointed, but persevered. “What’s so great about that?”
“Get enough of those guys together and they make rain.” I thought that might make up for the rudimentary definition.
“Rain? You mean like water falling from the sky - that type of rain?” He looked suitably impressed and both Cedar and I nodded. All four of us turned to stare at the little white cloud as the wind dissipated it. I let go a little sigh and smiled as the others did the same. Who knew if we’d ever see one again?
Chapter 13 – How ‘Bot’ That?
While the cloud had been distracting, I hadn’t forgotten about the Chinese drone or the danger nipping at our heels. We wound our way slowly down from the mountains and reached the now familiar desert that was the areas natural terrain. The sand was thick and the going slow and despite hours of driving, the mountains were still looming large and threatening in the review mirror. It didn’t help that the wind had picked up and we were driving directly in to it in our bid to distance ourselves from the Laurentians. The sun sank behind the peaks and I knew we should look for a safe place to bunk down for the night, but I also wanted to get further away from where we’d seen the drone. Cedar reached over and squeezed my knee in a gesture of comfort and I gave her a smile that I hoped looked confident.
“Do you want me to drive for a while?” she asked, as I rubbed my eyes awkwardly, trying to keep my glasses over at least one eye to keep the trail clear.
“I’m okay for now, but if we don’t find shelter in the next hour or so, I’ll hand over the wheel.” She made a small huffing noise, like I’d said something offensive. “Hey, it’s just that your distance vision is better, so you’re more likely to see a good camping spot.” This seemed to mollify her a bit and she granted me a small smile before returning her gaze to the darkening panorama.
It was a little later that Cedar spotted a dark void in the growing storm. I cautiously approached it, not wanting to come across anything unexpected.
“No,” she said, “not here, keep driving.” She’d had to talk loudly, as the wind was howling around the vehicle and I shot her a questioning glance. “There are signs of Survivalists and we don’t want to explain ourselves or worse, ‘share’ our supplies.” She pointed to a stack of stones that faded in and out of vision in the growing clouds of sand.
“The storm’s getting worse and what if it’s the start of a smog storm? We need to find shelter fast.” I argued; a sense of urgency licking at my insides in a way that I couldn’t ignore.
“I know, but we have to protect our cargo, too. This car is built to survive these storms and might be the safest place should a smog storm hit.” I could tell by her expression that she was weighing our options and, finally, she shook her head. “We can’t risk it. A lot of people would do almost anything to get back in to the domes and turning us over would be an easy decision.”
I turned away from the beckoning shelter, hoping that our lights hadn’t announced our presence. We drove for a while longer, whether it was a few hours or less than one, I couldn’t tell you. The sand was so thick that I could hardly see what was in front of me and I almost ran in to a huge building that loomed up suddenly in front of us. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop, just inches away from a concrete wall. I backed up a little and followed the wall around until I found a large entry door. It was designed to slide across on a hanging rail, so I climbed out after strapping an oxygen mask over my face and shoved the metal for all I was worth. It gave slowly and grudgingly, having probably hung as it was for decades. Bit by bit the opening widened and by the time I’d made enough room to get the car through, I was moist with sweat and gasping for breath. Cedar negotiated the opening like a pro and hoped out, suitably equipped to help me slide the door back in place. It was such a relief to be out of the howling wind and it only took a few minutes for the air to clear of sand. We took off the masks and surveyed our refuge.
We appeared to be in a large warehouse or perhaps factory floor, if the desiccated, crumbling remains of equipment were any indicator. We drove the car further in to the cavernous space and parked, wanting to explore the place. As the ferocity of the storm increased, the interior darkened as the meagre light from the windows got swallowed up in the thickening sand. Our light sticks did little to cut through the dark so we were forced to go over the old machines and abandoned supplies slowly, minding every step. I couldn’t figure out what the factory’s purpose was. There were long assembly lines and a mix of materials that could have been used for any number of things. There were plastic, conical shaped forms and swathes of a hairy type of material, slightly similar to eco-grass, but fluffier. There were fake eyes and speakers. I couldn’t quite put it all together. It was then that I heard coughing somewhere in the building. I called out. “Hey, are you guys okay?” Jake and Cedar answered immediately, but Blossom had to clear her throat and cough a bit before answering. We gathered together and I noticed that the girl was a little wobbly on her legs.
“Ack!” She complained. “It almost tastes like the air from the smog storm!” She coughed again, this time harder and I could see her eyes watering from the effort. I took a deep breathe and heard Cedar do the same
. A chemical burning sensation scorched down my throat and I repressed a chest wracking cough.
“We need to get somewhere safer!” I commanded.
“What about the tent?” asked Jake.
“No time!” replied Cedar ushering us towards the back of the building. “I think I saw a place that might work.”
“Can’t we wait it out in the car?” I asked. She shook her head and continued to the back of the building. I looked back at the car and it was far enough away to make the attempt futile. Cedar’s response had scared me. If she didn’t think the car provided sufficient air then we were in for a long haul and I was afraid that we might not make it out of the storm alive. I could just make out the glow of the light sticks through the thickening air and I hurried to catch up with Jake who was lagging behind a little, so as not to lose me.
When I caught up I could see Cedar and Blossom disappear behind a second set of doors and both Jake and I passed through a first set and then the other. The doors hissed as they closed, startling me a little, but for some reason the sound was comforting. The light sticks reflected off the glimmering white walls and the space looked immaculate. There were no dust trails or signs of sand. It was like a medical sterilization team had just come through.
“I think it’s a computer lab. You know, sterile, so the components don’t get damaged,” explained Cedar. There were a few robotic arms encased in air tight glass boxes and I could see the telltale green of a motherboard positioned precisely below one of the arms. “We should be safe enough in here, assuming there’s some sort of air flow system.”
The thought panicked me. There were four of us in a confined, air tight room that wasn’t much bigger than my pod. My throat constricted at the thought. I could see that Blossom had pinched her nostrils together, most likely thinking the same thing as me. I got a better grip on my oxygen can and cringed a little at my own reluctancy when I handed out the others. Jake chuckled nervously.
Last Farmer: Last Farmer Series - Book 1 Page 12
