Raine looked up.
Every minute, the deep purple of the sky shifted to a lighter shade, the sun still only looming. Time to go.
“Okay. And-I won’t say, you know, thanks again.”
He got in. Started the engine. The roar did sound cleaner, a deeper, tighter rumble. More than just tuned.
“Nice,” he said.
Loosum came close, clicking off her headlamp now that it was no longer needed.
“Look, we deal with the Outriggers on occasion, but the Outriggers deal with everyone, including the Authority. Just be careful around them. They’re not to be trusted.”
“And the Hagars are?”
“I will forget you said that, Ark man. Just a warning. Take it-or don’t.”
Loosum backed away.
“Now get moving.”
A hint of yellow on the horizon, the beginning of another day in the Wasteland. Was he keeping track of the days? Should he keep track?
It certainly didn’t seem to matter.
He pulled away from Loosum and went past the guards to the road and open expanse of the great desert that surrounded the settlement.
Though the buggy sounded and ran better, its suspension, or lack of one, still sent Raine flying out of his seat when it hit each rock and crevice.
The sun sat a full ten degrees above the horizon now, not quite in his eyes. Pair of sunglasses would be useful. He did have a hat that he found in the back of the buggy. Not much of a brim, but it might help a bit.
He opened… the compartment.
Gloves… as if!
He pulled out the map. Hand drawn, and rough; it had scribbled mounds indicating hills and mountains, arrows for passageways.
A jumble of lines crisscrossing was labeled “Outriggers.”
He looked at the ball compass in his buggy. His course looked fine.
All he needed was some music.
Instead he was left with his thoughts, like maybe if he brought back the supplies, people would accept him. Let him just be.
But then again, maybe not. Because there was that catch.
I’m not a Hagar.
He stuffed the map back. If he stayed in this direction, he should be fine. Nothing but clear open space between here and the Outriggers’ settlement.
He began to relax.
Which, if you had asked him, was always when things seemed to go… wrong. • • •
It was the slightest of sounds.
Competing with the wind-that steady whistle near his ears-the shooting spray of rock and rubble, and the still-loud engine.
Another noise.
He turned his head left and right as if he could aim his ears.
The sound… he slowly, finally, identified it.
Another engine. Then, more clear, two engines.
Behind him.
He looked at his compass. The open space ahead. And only then did he risk a look back.
To see the two vehicles racing toward him.
They had taken flanking positions behind him, one on either side. Still too far away for a good shot. From his glance back-and the rate they were gaining on him-Raine guessed that their vehicles were faster than his.
One had a classic jeep front. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a machine gun mounted on the hood.
So, maybe two bandits in there.
And then, on the other side, a Camaro from hell. The engine exposed, tinkered with so it couldn’t even fit under any normal car hood, and a rear end raised up that gave the whole thing the look of a projectile.
Least it didn’t have a gun mounted on its front.
And both were gaining on him.
How many seconds until they opened fire?
Raine looked ahead. Wide-open space to maneuver. Seemed to be their advantage, not his.
A crack. The first sound of gunfire.
No opportunity for a long debate.
He hit the brakes of the buggy hard.
The vehicle nearly went end over end with the force of the sudden stop.
Raine didn’t waste any time. He picked up his rifle.
Another crack, and the ping of a shot that hit the roll bar ran over the buggy’s seats.
He saw the bandits on the left-the ones in the jeep-edging closer to him. One of them was standing, aiming the mounted gun…
Raine watched a line of bullets begin racing across the sand, strafing its way toward his vehicle.
Shit.
But they were going so fast, and with their target no longer moving, the bandit at the mounted gun was turning the gun fast as well to try to compensate, his aim all over the place.
Not so for Raine. He was stopped.
And he’d had sniper training. Maybe the most useful thing he’d ever learned-at least at the moment. He fired and the bandit at the mounted gun kicked backward, right out of the car.
Raine turned hard to the other vehicle, the metal torpedo about to pass him. No front-mounted machine gun, but he still saw a passenger bandit taking aim with a rifle.
Raine noticed that his wound from yesterday didn’t scream out in agony with his sudden turn. Sure, it had been cleaned out, but this was something different… almost like it was completely healed.
Almost like he had never taken a bullet there at all.
Nanotrites. Not sure he knew how they worked or even what they even were. But he was mighty glad to have them coursing through his system.
A shot from the killer Camaro brought him out of his reverie, and he ducked as the vehicle on the right flew past.
He slid back down, knowing that both vehicles would now turn, showing him their broadsides.
Time to gun it.
He sat up and hit the accelerator. Whatever Loosum had done made his underpowered buggy leap forward as if it had been kicked in the rear.
He didn’t even bother holding the steering wheel. He let the car wobble left and right as he took aim at the two vehicles in front of him.
Where the hell are their gas tanks?
Finding it on the Camaro-type thing should be easy. He took his shot, just to the rear of the driver, and low.
Should have been just about where the tank was.
As if in answer, the bandit’s vehicle exploded into flame. The flash created a heat he could feel from all the way back where he was.
And the other car? The one with the dead shooter?
He saw it heading in a circle, trying to turn back on him.
Go on, Raine thought. Give it a shot.
Suddenly this was personal for him.
Never a bad thing, despite what they tell you at officers’ school. “Personal” used in a disciplined way could be terribly effective.
Better than adrenaline.
He saw the other driver curving around… and then begin to change direction again. He had probably changed his mind and decided that this was more fight than he wanted.
And that was a fatal mistake. Once you were in it, that was kind of it. No dodging, no running, no escape.
You had to finish it.
And now, as if it was an old-school dogfight, he was on the tail of the fleeing bandit. There was no remorse as he held the rifle and-while steering now-fired.
First shot-the guy kept going.
Then another, and the vehicle streamed off in a random direction, the driver hit. The car was slowing, heading nowhere until it came to a dead stop.
Raine wondered if he should stop, too, pick up anything useful from the surviving bandit car.
But that would take time. Time taken away from getting the supplies back to the settlement, and also time when more bandit friends might come around.
Seemed like in the Wasteland, bandits were like flies at a picnic. Leave something tempting around and they were all over it.
So, running at full speed, he checked his compass and left the dead bandits behind.
It took a few minutes of driving before he realized that-on some level-he had enjoyed that.
The Outrigger Settl
ement didn’t appear out of nowhere, like the Hagar Settlement resolving itself from the desert haze.
No, he could see it from miles away.
Huge tanks sat on the sides of the road, built into rocky ledges on either side, all linked with pipes.
Raine stopped his buggy.
Best to take all this in from a distance before he just drove into unfamiliar territory.
Hate to be mistaken for a bandit.
No flags in this world, no uniforms. Life seemed cheap.
No, life was cheap.
Even from out here he could see people walking around. Hard to tell if they were armed. From the looks of things, the Outriggers had a big fuel-processing gig going on here, and they probably would do anything to protect it.
It made the Hagar Settlement look like a rest stop.
Had they spotted him yet? Raine wondered. They must have radio signals so they could have been given advance notice if he had been spotted.
He decided to cruise on in, nice and slowly. Let them know he wasn’t making any mad dash for one of their big tanks.
He put the car in gear, and the buggy started moving forward again.
SEVENTEEN
THE DEAL
To enter the settlement, Raine had to pass between two jutting cliffs. Armed men in Mohawk hairdos looked down at him, black smears under their eyes, their heavily muscled arms sporting swirling designs.
Stole a few tattoo tricks from the bandits, it would appear.
Or maybe they were ex-bandits? Recruited for security?
He passed under great pipes that crossed from tanks on one side of the dirt entrance road to the other. A girder let guards walk across, looking down as Raine cruised in slowly.
No one tried to stop him.
Not yet.
Then he saw a formal gate-not just a collection of twisted razor ribbon and abandoned car parts, but a real mesh gate.
There were more guards here, except these wore a brown outfit as if they worked for Shell.
Back when there was a Shell. And an Exxon and all the other fossil fuel companies now turned fossils themselves.
How’d the Outriggers get so lucky to have this franchise in the desert?
Maybe a question he’d get to ask the settlement’s boss-Rikter.
That might take some doing, though, as the gate remained closed. A guard spoke to him from the other side.
“Your business, stranger?”
Stranger…
Seemed to be a powerful word here. You were either part of a settlement, connected to one group or the other-or you weren’t. That left two options:
Bandit or
Stranger.
Neither was a particularly welcoming label to be given.
Then there was the-so far-elusive Authority. Though Raine hadn’t seen any sign of anything that one would call “Authority.” Right now, the only thing that meant authority out here was a gun. There was a lot of “authority” pointed at him at the moment, so he chose his words carefully.
“I’m from the Hagar Settlement-”
The two guards looked at each other. A dismissive look, as if the Hagars weren’t thought much of. Easy to see why, when looking at the refinery-sized proportions of this place.
“-and I have something for Rikter. From Dan Hagar.”
Not much of a reaction to that, either. Raine held up the sealed pouch that he was to deliver. Then, to help their decision-making, he decided to put a bit of fear in them. After all, even rough, tough-ass guards didn’t want to screw up. “It’s for Rikter. I’m sure he doesn’t like being kept waiting. Let him know I am here.”
Another look-a lot less dismissive this time. One of the guards reached down and picked up a radio handset. After a few moments of hushed conversation, they looked back at Raine. Finally one guard said, “Okay.” They started opening the gate. As Raine pulled through, the first guard said, “Head straight until you see that large dome, the main tank. Across from that is Rikter’s compound. He’ll be there.”
Raine nodded.
And then he heard the gate close behind him.
Inside the fence, he passed the Outrigger Settlement’s residents, all staring at him, some pointing at his vehicle.
It made him wonder about the other day, when he had driven out of Hagar for the first time. Was it him they had pointed at, or his car? He imagined your status was definitely connected to the level of wheels you drove.
He saw a big blackish-gray tank looming ahead, an oversized ball that dominated the compound. Ladders stretched up one side to a flat top, with an antenna rising meters above the whole settlement. Definitely some communication capabilities here…
Across from it, a square building. More guys with guns outside.
Raine stopped his buggy.
One of the guards smirked. As Raine walked up, they openly grinned and nudged each other as they looked past him at his ramshackle vehicle. “Not much to look at, hm?” Raine asked. “But you should ask the bandits out there”-he pointed-“what they think of it.” The guards sobered up a bit at this.
“I’m here to see Rikter.”
The guard nodded at the door, and Raine entered. • • •
A man stood there looking at rolls of blue paper-like schematics or architectural drawings-that filled a long table.
Another man in a hard hat nodded, standing beside him.
For long seconds Raine stood there, the message from the Hagars in his hand.
“Get the damn pipe fixed. Right here.” The first man jabbed a finger down at a spot on the drawing. “I don’t care where you get the parts from, got it?”
The hard hat left, and Rikter finally looked up.
“Yeah. What they want now?”
Rikter was massive. Unlike a lot of the people Raine had met since his emergence, he looked well fed. Access to some private stock that only the fat cats got to munch on?
He also had two swirls on the side of his cheek, similar to the ones he had seen on the guards on the ride in. Tribal markings of some kind? The mark of the Outrigger boss?
Fuel equals power. Back before the asteroid, and apparently now. If you got some, no matter how little, it meant something. The Outriggers were clearly sitting on something.
Had to be a cache.
He wondered why the Authority, if they were as powerful as everyone made out, didn’t simply take it from them.
Unless-the Outriggers ran this on behalf of the Authority.
How large was the Authority’s spread?
So many questions…
Raine cleared his head-it was becoming a habit-and spoke. “The Hagar Settlement was attacked. People need medical supplies. It’s probably all in here,” he said, holding up the pouch.
“And who the hell are you?” Rikter came from behind his desk, sizing him up. “You’re not a Hagar.”
“No. I’m not.”
A nod. “So? Where’d you come from?”
“Is that important?”
Rikter grinned. A few missing teeth. Dentistry a lost art? Lose a tooth and it remained lost.
Like limbs. Eyeballs.
That glimpse of the gaps in Rikter’s mouth reminded Raine of where exactly he was. This wasn’t Earth. Not the Earth he remembered. Might as well be on another planet.
What happened to the great plans to preserve civilization? The great Ark Project?
Was this the result? He hadn’t had a lot of time to think about the situation, but it was becoming clearer:
There’s something wrong with all this.
“Let me see,” Rikter said, extending his hand and taking the envelope. He unwrapped the cords holding it tight, then read it. “Didn’t peek, now did you?”
“No. You saw that it was sealed. I’m just here to pick up some supplies.”
“This the deal, hm? Could be we got something here. Let me talk to some of my people. You wait here, ’kay?”
“Sure.”
And Rikter left him standing in the office while he went
out.
Raine didn’t hesitate: he looked at the charts on the table.
No small operation, and the hand drawn plans showed expansion in the works. Business must be good. Financed by Rikter walked back in.
“Like our plans?”
Raine looked up. He had two men with him.
“Looks like things are going well in the fuel business.”
“Always need fuel in the Wasteland. You know, if we can only get up to speed, we could even get some planes back in the air. Be helpful”-he took a few steps closer to Raine, the two men with him following-“to have planes.”
“No flying?”
Rikter looked at the two men with him, then back to Raine. “What? I mean, the Authority has a few hovercraft. And here and there you see a balloon vehicle, though they’ve been outlawed. But-jets?”
He laughed.
It occurred to Raine in that moment that Rikter somehow knew… knew where he came from. And that meant he was in trouble.
Gears started falling into place. But by the time they clicked, the two men had quietly moved to either side of him, each the equal of Rikter. Big guys, arms that turned giant valves on fuel pipes, hands that steered girders and metal into place-and now suddenly had a new job.
They latched onto his arms.
“As you can guess, I accept the Hagars’ deal. I’m having the medical supplies sent on to their settlement now. And you, according to the deal, Ark survivor, are mine. To deal to the Authority, I suppose. And I thought today was going to be a nothing day.”
“Hold on. I’m the deal?”
“Afraid so. Always the last to know, huh?” Then to the two goons, “Take him downstairs. Give him some water, that’s it. Then”-he clapped a hand on Raine’s back-“we simply wait for the Enforcers to show up. You’re going to love them.”
They dragged Raine away.
EIGHTEEN
NO GOOD DEED PART TWO
They threw him into a cell, an eight-by-eight stone box.
No place to sit or lie down but the stone floor.
They don’t plan on keeping me here long, he guessed.
He stood there, smelling the dankness of the underground jail, scant light sneaking in through barred windows on the wall outside.
Rage Page 9
