WastelandRogue

by Brenda Williamson

  “We use this,” Ev said, picking up a shiny flat piece of metal. “Your reflection will be distorted, however, it still can show you if you have…If you have any smudges on your face.”

  It wasn’t a very good imitation of a mirror. Rye saw the shape of her face and a blurry mesh of her features. In his trades, her father had managed to get a real mirror for Shay. Rye had used it, but not for the same vain needs as her sister had.

  “If you’ll allow me?” Ev touched the cloth in Rye’s hand.

  Rye tightened her grip on the rag, feeling stubborn.

  “Please?” Ev tugged with admirable persistence.

  Rye released it to her.

  “Is there anything you need?” Ev wiped the wet cloth against Rye’s temple, brushing upward into her hair.

  “Nothing,” Rye answered.

  “That’s the way of your kind, helpful, caring but never wanting anything in return or needing anything for yourselves.” Ev lowered her arm and smiled. “There. Not a speck left.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Rye, are you ready to go?” Sevrin called to her.

  “No, you can’t go!” Tari ran over and hugged her around the middle. “You have to stay and help us keep the marauders away.”

  Sevrin’s shrug looked to suggest he was leaving the decision up to her. But she had to say no. She had to find her sister.

  “Toddas says Orland told him they’d be back,” Ev said from behind, sounding as if she too wanted them to stay, but then added, “We’ll be better prepared to stop them.”

  Rye ran her hand over Tari’s head, hating she had to disappoint the girl.

  Sevrin put a hand on Rye’s shoulder, patting it in that comforting way he did in an unconscious manner. She took her jacket from him and headed for the door. Goodbyes weren’t something she could do.

  “Come again,” Tari said.

  Rye glanced back. Not trusting her voice to work, she smiled at the little girl and nodded.

  “Are you all right?” Sevrin asked once they were outside and alone.

  There it was again, his concern. She wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, no. She hadn’t been all right in a long time and doubted she knew what that meant anymore. “I was thinking about Shay. I know she’s probably dead, but I don’t want to believe it.”

  “Well, I have some news. I asked Toddas about nearby allium fields.”

  “And?” Rye asked, hopeful for something good.

  “He said there was one north of here, not too far. He had the idea we could reach it within a half day at a steady walk, however, I think we can shorten that time considerably.”

  “How?” She followed him. “Did he say if he heard anything about the marauders taking lamians there?”

  “He knew for a fact they did.” Sevrin led her through the camp, around some shacks.

  “Why didn’t the lamians that live here destroy the field?”

  “He didn’t say, but honestly, they’re humans. They have to eat to stay alive. Allium is a harmless food source to them. I’m sure the lamians kept their distance from it.”

  “Have you eaten allium?”

  “No. Since it’s a poison to lamians, I assume my parents didn’t want to take the chance having it around. And in my travels, I’ve never came across any. I stick to the wastelands for the most part and from what Toddas told me, allium do best in cool, moist soil. That means near the northern mountains where rain is more frequent.”

  Rye followed Sevrin, feeling hopeful that while they might find the allium field, they’d not find Shay in it.

  “Here’s how we’ll save time,” Sevrin announced, turning at the corner of the last shack in the camp.

  Curious, she took a few quicker steps to see what he was talking about and there before her loomed a steam-trekker. “The marauders have a vehicle just like yours.”

  “Yup.” He climbed onto the track wheel and then stepped up on the running board while opening the door.

  “Did you see Levor in the camp?” She spun around, feeling a chill run down her spine at the thought the creep would appear.

  “This isn’t my steam-trekker, Rye. It’s unlikely he’d be around here unless he worked for Orland. I think Levor seemed more the acting-on-his-own type. He’d not bring something valuable around Orland’s bunch.”

  Rye listened to the engine grind, refusing to rouse from its inoperable state. Memories of her starting Sevrin’s vehicle almost made her offer suggestions. Then the machine sprang to life. Of course it did. Sevrin would know more than she did. It got her thinking about how easily he had said he had moved around camp. All the information he gleaned from Orland’s men. Distrust resurfaced. What if he was one of them?

  Sevrin leaned out of the steam-trekker. “Are you coming?”

  “Why didn’t Orland take this when he left with his men?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Because I disabled it.”

  The plausibility was enough. She hurried around to the opposite side. Now wasn’t the time to pursue her struggle with trusting or not trusting Sevrin’s involvement in her life. She had to do everything possible to find Shay. If she was wrong to trust Sevrin, then she’d deal with that at the time he posed a real threat.

  She climbed in and wrinkled her nose at the smell of the interior. “Is there a dead body in here?” She glanced to the back cargo area.

  “I don’t think Orland’s bunch believe in cleanliness.” He rubbed his nose. “Open the window.”

  She pulled and tugged at the lever on the top to slide the glass down. “It’s stuck,” she informed him as she twisted sideways and lifted her leg. Several taps with her booted foot and the glass dropped into the slot. “Now it’s not.”

  “Then we’re ready?” He didn’t wait for her to answer.

  The steam-trekker rolled forward.

  Sevrin maneuvered the cumbersome vehicle around rocks, holes and debris. Time moved slowly as they traveled north, crossing the wastelands toward the low hills.

  The heat of the morning only got worse.

  Rye took a sip of water from the flash and offered some to Sevrin. “I should have thought of getting us more water when Ev asked if there was anything she could do for us.”

  “There will be water holes in the hills.” He took a swig and handed back the flask. “You make sure you stay hydrated.”

  She nodded, took a small sip to conserve what they had left and closed the flask. Suffering from mild dehydration wasn’t anything to be concerned about. She was far from suffering sun-fever and paranoia.

  Rye rested her arm on the window opening and then pulled it back out of the sunlight. No point in being careless with the sun and heat.

  She studied the horizon for clues to their destination.

  “How long do you think it will take for us to reach the allium field?” she asked impatiently.

  “Relax. We’ll get there.” Sevrin picked up a rag from the floor and wiped at gauges on the panel.

  “Do we have enough fuel?”

  “We do.” He gave her a quick glance. “But the engine is heating more than it should.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Either we need to shut down and let the engine cool or we keep going and hope it takes us as far as needed.”

  She didn’t want to stop. “Shut it down. I could use some fresh air. Trapped in here with this stench is making me sick.” She touched the throbbing ache in her head.

  “Are you drinking enough?” Sevrin reached for the flask and she grabbed it first.

  “I’ve had plenty.” She opened it and took another sip, then offered it to him.

  “I don’t need any right now.” He brought the steam-trekkerto a halt and turned off the engine.

  She opened the door and hopped out first, anxious to get away from the putrid odor inside the vehicle.

  Sevrin lifted a hatch on the front of the steam-trekker, she assumed to help the cooling-off process.

  “Not a lick of shade around here, is there?” H
e slid his hand over his head, wiping back his sweat-dampened hair. “With the sun straight up, not even one side of the steam-trekkercan offer relief.”

  “Except for under it,” she commented.

  “And that is dripping with condensation from the steam pipes. It wouldn’t be a comfort to have boiling water dropping on us.” He took her hand. “We’ll just have to find something to distract us from this prickly weather.”

  “Like what?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know that he was suggesting they have sex.

  He glanced around in all directions and then pulled her along. “Come with me.”

  She walked, keeping her fingers wrapped around his.

  “Where are we going?” If they were going to get naked, she saw no reason to venture away from the steam-trekker.

  “You’ll see.” He bent down and pulled a knife from inside his boot.

  Flooded with a sudden wariness, she was glad he let go of her hand. She stopped walking as he went a few paces ahead.

  “What are you doing?” she moved forward to see what he stooped near.

  “Not quite big enough to call food but this will wet our dry mouths.” He cut into a small thorny green plant growing between two rocks. “Have you ever tried this before?”

  “No.”

  He rose holding the plant with the bottom corner of his coat. “It’s called a cactus. The lizards live off them.” He flipped up a rock with the toe of his boot as if to check for one of the baby reptiles.

  “I guess that’s great for them.”

  “And us.” He cut away the spiny green skin until he held only the pulpy core in his palm. “Take a bite.”

  “I don’t eat food.”

  “Just try it,” he insisted, holding it near her lips.

  She opened her mouth and took a small bite. “You like this?” she said while chewing.

  “Sure, don’t you?” He ate a large piece.

  She didn’t answer, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He tried so hard to keep her spirits up.

  “Have some more.” He put it to her lips.

  “No more.” She turned her head away.

  “It’s a good replacement for water. In this heat we’re both susceptible to sun-fever if we don’t get enough liquids.”

  Reluctantly, she took another bite.

  Sevrin ate the last piece. Then as if to find another, he surveyed the ground.

  “The engine should have had enough time to cool a little,” she suggested to avoid having to eat more cactus as well as to resume their journey.

  “I suppose it won’t cool too much in this heat.” He took her hand.

  The casual gesture elated her and they quietly strolled back to the steam-trekker.

  Before she climbed up, Sevrin touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He brushed his knuckles back and forth, then leaned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Drink more water,” he said.

  She again nodded her agreement to appease him. As she climbed into the steam-trekker, she touched her face. She didn’t think she felt too warm, although a powerful thirst continued to plague her, along with a dry throat.

  As Sevrin drove along, she picked out landmarks for gauging distance to and from each by the time that passed. The steam-trekker covered ten to twenty times the ground she could at a steady walk. While they had planned a quicker arrival, twice they had to backtrack out of dead-end paths where the hill slopes were too steep for them to travel.

  Then they reached the end of the line. The line of hills was impassable to vehicles. The craggy incline had narrow trails zigzagging around growing trees and brush. The little she knew about the steam-trekkerwas enough to know it might be able to negotiate rough terrain and the occasional mound of government boxes, but it wasn’t capable of sharp turns in tight spaces.

  “We’ll walk from here.” Sevrin stopped the vehicle.

  “I figured that out for myself.”

  “Oh?” He looked over at her with a questioning gaze. “If you think the steam-trekker isn’t able to climb—”

  “Not the climb, the obstacles.”

  He stepped on the pedal that sent them forward again. The vehicle rolled on. Sevrin steered it in the direction they needed to go—upward. Small trees gave way to the track wheels shredding, bending and clambering over them.

  She glanced at Sevrin, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. Yet even after he proved the steam-trekker reliable, he pushed the pedal, making them go faster. The steam-trekker bounced and rocked, tilted and tipped far to one side.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, grabbing hold of the door and the panel in front of her to keep in her seat. “You’re going to—”

  Rye sucked in a sharp gasp as the vehicle fell over onto its side. Sevrin reached out an arm and tried to hold her in the seat, but he fell from his own into her.

  The machine didn’t stop. On the slope of a hill, the steam-trekkertoppled over onto its roof. It continued to tumble down the hill. Rye landed with a hard thud on each turn. When Sevrin came down on her, he straddled her body and wrapped his arms around her and the back of the seat. He bound her there until the steam-trekker came to a sudden stop against a bigger tree.

  On her back with Sevrin on top of her was a familiar position. This time pain instead of pleasure ran through her.

  “Are you all right?” He pushed his weight up off her.

  “Yes, I’m all right, damn it. Can’t you think of anything else to ask me?” She didn’t know why it bothered her so much every time he asked if she was all right.

  He lifted a brow in surprise. Then he crawled out her open door.

  “That was just great.” She followed him. “Now we have to walk.”

  “We were going to have to do that anyway.” He stretched his arms over his head. “That vehicle didn’t have enough water fuel to take us much farther.”

  “You said it would take us as far as we needed to go.”

  “And that was at the base of the hills. Neither of us expected the steam-trekkerto go farther than that.”

  “So, what now?” She surveyed the landscape, glancing up at the sun.

  “Toddas said to stay on the path northwest,” he answered, looking around.

  “How do we know we haven’t already missed it?”

  “He said when we reached the hills, to follow them until they turn directly to the south. From there we’re to head up and we’ll find a plateau before the next rise.” He started up the incline. “At least the conditions look right.”

  He was right. Not all was barren. Not all was a flat layer of rock and dust. Focal points of brush and twiggy trees gave a promise to find more. When they reached the plateau, the greenery vanished. Wafting heat blurred the distance. She trudged along, keeping up her spirits by daydreaming.

  She imagined Sevrin at her place in the Taum Sauk Mountains, living the tranquil life of leisure.

  “What do you have there?” Sevrin asked from his resting spot on the plush grass by the bank of the stream circling her cabin.

  “Flowers?” She smiled, glancing back at Shay in the garden.

  Rye sat next to him and plucked petals of white from one particular bloom. “Are you happy here with me?” She sprinkled the petals in the gently flowing water.

  “I don’t recall a time I was happier.” He leaned and kissed her, touching her lips with his and then gliding his thumb across them.

  She felt the same. Was it love? If only he’d say it first.

  “Rye—” He said her name and she thought she heard that very sentiment in his voice.

  “Rye?” Sevrin repeated.

  She blinked a few times, clearing her thoughts to find Sevrin in front of her, instead of in her fantasy world. He had her chin cupped in his palm and his thumb swept her dry lips.

  “I won’t ask how you’re doing but you have to stay hydrated, especially out in the sun like this.” He offered her the flask.

  She blindly took it, putting it to her parched lips. Hallucinations, paranoia and irr
ational acts were all results of dehydration. She knew that. The images she had of Sevrin and Iantha having sex, her back-and-forth trust and distrust, what was next, attacking him with irrational fear?

  “More.” Sevrin put a hand beneath the flask and tipped it up, forcing her to drink or let it spill out the corners of her mouth.

  Was he concerned because he needed her alive? Hamner said the scientists wanted live lamians. Sevrin’s brother was a scientist. Low-life cretins like Hamner, Levor and the marauders simply took what they wanted. It made sense that intelligent men like Sevrin employed deceptive means such as friendship.

  “Come on, Rye, drink,” he insisted.

  Her suspicions elevated, she pushed the flask away. She licked her lips, needing another drink, yet refusing to take it. Why help him with whatever his plan was for her? She started walking, kicking the toe of her boot at small rocks and making them tumble ahead.

  “Rye?” Sevrin put a hand on her arm.

  “I don’t want any more water.” She looked up and then followed the direction of his gaze.

  An oddly dense patch of tall green stalks with a cloud of purple blooms almost floating over them lay ahead.

  “Do you think that’s it?” She had no idea what growing allium looked like, but Hamner had mentioned big balls of purple. Could it be the deadly blood poison hid behind the deceptive beauty of flowers?

  “I don’t know. Remember, I’ve never seen an allium field,” Sevrin reminded her.

  She vaguely recalled him saying he’d never seen it before. That fact was inconsequential.

  Rye sprinted for the field. She ran as fast as she could. The leafy vegetation grew taller the closer she got, an illusion of the distance shortening between her and the plants.

  “Rye, stop,” Sevrin yelled.

  She heard the thump of his boots against the hard ground behind her. The pounding fell in sync with her heartbeat. She was quick, determined and desperate for answers. Regardless, he caught her at the edge of allium patch.

  “Don’t touch the stuff.” He held her back. “It’s poisonous to you.”

  “But I have to look for her. I have to find Shay.” She fought off his grip and dashed into the thick spiked stalks. Breaking the stems meant the poisonous juices could touch her skin. The pungent aroma, both sweet and acerbic, hit her. She ignored the scented warning. Nothing was going to stop her.