The Quest of the DNA Cowboys

by Mick Farren

  Filthy and exhausted they eventually reached the lower slopes of the high ground. It was covered in soft springy turf. Both Billy and Reave fell down and lay panting on the grass. They rested in silence for a while, then Reave noticed some­thing in a slightly longer clump of grass, and crawled towards it. He laughed and called to Billy.

  'Hey, see what I found.'

  Billy raised his head.

  'What is it?'

  'Come and take a look.'

  Billy crawled to beside Reave, who parted the grass with his hands. In a hidden nest were a clutch of eight pale blue eggs. They were slightly larger than the pigeons' eggs Billy had stolen in Pleasant Gap when he was a kid. He grinned at Reave.

  'Breakfast!'

  'Or lunch.'

  'Or supper, who can tell in this fucked-up place?'

  'It's food, anyway. What do you think we should do with them?'

  Billy looked around.

  'I don't know. I guess we're going to have to eat them raw.'

  'We could build a fire and try to cook them.'

  Billy laughed.

  'With what, man? We don't have any pans or anything.'

  'We could build a fire and fry them on a hot rock.'

  'We don't have any grease.'

  Reave shrugged.

  'There are times when you have to improvise.'

  Reave scrambled to his feet and hurried down the slope. A few minutes later he returned with an armful of twigs and a round flat stone. After a couple of false starts, he got a fire going. Reave laid the rock on top of the hot embers. He spat on it to make sure it was hot enough, and when he was satisfied he cracked all the eggs on to the top of the rock. They were chalky and full of pieces of grit. Billy and Reave burned their fingers picking the food from the hot rock. When they'd finished, however, Billy lay back on the grass with a grunt of satisfaction.

  'I could eat that three times over.'

  'It sure was welcome.'

  They slept for a while, and woke up stiff, aching, but a good deal more hopeful than they'd been earlier. They began to climb the hill. About halfway from the top they came across a well-used dirt road that appeared to wind to the other side of the line of hills.

  They'd been following the road for perhaps half an hour, although they both still had trouble judging how time passed. They heard a sound from somewhere. It started as a high-pitched whine, but seemed to get fuller as it came towards them. It grew to a full-throated roar, and a figure on a motor­cycle came over the hill and down the road towards them. The motorcyclist bounced past them, but slewed to a halt, and came back. Both Billy and Reave had caught the flash of a guitar on the rider's back. They looked at each other.

  'It can't be.'

  'It's not possible.'

  The Minstrel Boy kicked the big elaborate machine, with its long forks and high bars, on to its stand and walked towards Billy and Reave. Pulling off his leather flying helmet, he brushed the dust from his long suede coat.

  'Hey fellas, fancy seeing you boys around here.'

  'We never thought we'd see you again.'

  'No?'

  'How did you get out of that fault in the river?'

  The Minstrel Boy frowned.

  'The river? That was a whole long time ago.'

  It was Billy's and Reave's turn to frown.

  'Huh? It was only a couple of days ago.'

  The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

  'Suit yourselves. You know best. Where are you headed?'

  Billy spread his hands.

  'No idea. We just pulled ourselves out of the swamp. We were going up this hill to see what was on the other side. Are there any towns near here?'

  The Minstrel Boy nodded wearily.

  'Sure, there's a city on the other side of the hill. I wouldn't care to say whether you'd like it or not.'

  'You mean there's something wrong with it?'

  'There's something wrong with most cities. You don't need me to tell you that.'

  'But is this one okay?'

  The Minstrel Boy scratched his ear.

  'I'm a minstrel, not a tourist guide. If you mean will you come to harm, there's a chance of that anywhere. If you wanted to avoid harm you would have stayed in that hick town that you came from. If you mean is the city where you'll find what you're looking for, you got the wrong person. I can't tell you something that you don't even know yourselves.'

  After the Minstrel Boy's outburst, there was an awkward silence. Billy looked at the ground and spoke tentatively.

  'Where are you headed?'

  'Some other place.'

  'How would it be if we came with you?'

  The Minstrel Boy pointed at the motorcycle.

  'It don't take but one.'

  'That's a pity.'

  'Not really, I'm headed for one place, and you're on the road to that city over the hill. We just met in passing. It doesn't call for anyone to change their plans. You go your way, and I'll carry on along mine.'

  'Sure. I guess we'll be seeing each other.'

  The Minstrel Boy nodded.

  'That's possible. So long.'

  He was walking back to the bike, pulling on his helmet, when Reave called him back.

  'You wouldn't have anything to eat, would you? I mean, something you could spare.'

  'You run out of food?'

  'Yeah.'

  He fumbled in one of the big patch pockets and pulled out a small package.

  'Have a cookie.'

  'Uuh . . .'

  'Have two. In fact, if you're hungry, take the whole packet.'

  He tossed the cookies to Reave and then turned and walked away. He kicked the bike into life and swung back on to the dirt road. Billy and Reave watched until he was out of sight. Then they turned, and started up the hill.

  Chapter 30

  Her/Their sensors had long detected the existence and loca­tion of the place. Now it was coming close. She/They was filled with hope. All caution was abandoned as She/They cut a straight line through the grey fabric of disordered matter. She/They was homing in on the place of stasis.

  It was a natural fold in the fabric that would have been safe on its own. With the addition of the generated field, it was the ideal place for Her/Them to heal Her/Their wounds and re­store Her/Their full potential.

  As She/They drew closer She/They discovered that humans were occupying the fold. It was they who had built and still operated the generator. They would be a nuisance, but would not constitute a danger to the delicate energy transfer that She/They had to perform. She/They would rather that they weren't standing around gawping at Her/Them, but it couldn't be helped.

  To Her/Them, the generators typified the attitude of the humans, crude machines that produced a semblance of stab­ility. The humans seemed content with them, but to Her/Them they were an ugly half measure. An expedient answer to a question that demanded absolutes. It pained Her/Them to have to resort to their rough power, but the present necessity dictated it.

  She/They slowed down as a landscape formed beneath Her/Them. She/They floated slowly down a bare grey hill, at the bottom of which there was a seemingly pointless land transport that ran on a circular track. Beyond a line of tall cultivated plants lay the dwellings of the humans and the mean centre of the stable area.

  She/They moved towards it.

  Chapter 31

  Billy and Reave reached the top of the hill and looked out over a destroyed valley. There was a city, just like the Minstrel Boy had predicted. He hadn't, however, prepared them for the sight that met their eyes.

  The war zone at Dur Shanzag was the only thing that Billy could compare it with, and even there, there hadn't been such a terrible destruction of the landscape.

  The centre piece of the whole area was a huge white tower that soared thousands of feet into the air, dwarfing the domes and high-rise buildings that clustered round its immediate base. A wall ran round the tower and its attendant structures. Beyond the wall the desolation began in earnest. Like a dark stain on the eart
h, miles of shacks and ruins spread out from the walls of the inner citadel, and across almost the whole valley. In the area of the shacks, there were huge faults in the fabric that drilled giant circular holes in the broken-down city. The size and number of the faults seemed to diminish near to the citadel, and around the walls the ground was quite stable.

  A thousand little fires seemed to be burning among the shacks and the air of the valley was foul and polluted. A filthy river sluggishly wound its way through the ruins. Its banks were crowded with all shapes and sizes of dilapidated craft. Others crawled slowly across its surface. The streets and alleys between the shacks were thronged with jostling human­ity. They were a total contrast to the area inside the walls, where a pristine order and calm seemed to reign.

  Billy looked doubtfully at Reave.

  'You think this is really the place to go?'

  Reave surveyed the valley.

  'It don't look too pretty, but there's people. It can't be all bad.'

  Billy wished silently that he shared Reave's optimism,

  'Okay then, let's go.'

  They started down into the valley. Before they'd reached the bottom, the road had changed direction twice to skirt huge faults in the side of the hill. They made their way down to the flat lands and found themselves among the outer edges of the shacks. They seemed to be built out of any and every material that might be at hand and could be crudely knocked together. Some were built around the ruins of older and what had once been more substantial buildings.

  Thin ragged children peered out of doorways, and there was an air of appalling squalor and poverty. Billy glanced at Reave.

  'It don't look like people have too much of a good time round these parts.'

  Reave pointed to the tower that rose high above them into the polluted air.

  'I bet the folk up there do all right. That's got to be where the high living goes on.'

  'You think we can get in there?'

  Billy looked at their torn, filthy clothes. He rubbed a hand over his chin. It felt as though he hadn't shaved for a week. Reave just grinned.

  'We can but try.'

  They walked on deeper into the city. They passed more and more people. Three times, Billy tried to approach groups of people and talk to them. Each time, before he could say any­thing, they shrank away from him and hid their faces in their filthy rags. Disconcerted, Billy went back to Reave.

  'I don't know what's wrong with us, but nobody seems to want to know us.'

  'Maybe they don't like strangers.'

  'They seem terrified when I try to get near them. There's something else, as well, that bothers me.'

  'Yeah? What's that?'

  'Well, I don't know if it's the bad air, or something wrong with my eyes, but there's something sort of, how would you call it, insubstantial about them. Like you could shine a bright light right through them. Do you know what I mean?'

  Reave looked around and slowly nodded.

  'They do seem kind of transparent. Like ghosts or something. I thought it was just a trick of the light.'

  He pointed towards the tower again.

  'That looks pretty damn solid.'

  Something moved in Billy's memory.

  'I know what these people look like. They're just like the folks we saw on the road out of Graveyard.'

  Reave looked at Billy in puzzlement.

  'What folks?'

  Billy remembered how Reave had been asleep when he and the Minstrel Boy had seen the strange column of prisoners and their sinister guards pass them on the broken road.

  'It was just something that reminded me and the . . . Hey! Look at that.'

  A medium-sized fault had suddenly appeared some twenty yards down the road. Two shacks and about a dozen people had flickered out of existence. All that remained was a circular hole in the ground. For a few seconds, Billy and Reave stood transfixed, then, simultaneously, they both hit the buttons on their porta-pacs.

  'This whole fucking place is falling to pieces!'

  'I think we ought to try for the citadel. If we can't get inside, I'd rather we got the hell out of here.'

  Reave nodded.

  'I'm with you, Billy boy.'

  They hurried on. A crowd had gathered around the newly formed fault, but it quickly dispersed as Billy and Reave approached.

  'They seem to treat us like poison.'

  'We don't look too good.'

  'Neither do they.'

  'That's true.'

  They turned into a broader avenue, where men and women struggled under heavy burdens. A group of children strained to pull a large clumsy cart with big solid wheels. A man walked beside them with a long cane, encouraging them to greater efforts. As before, the crowds hastily parted to let Billy and Reave pass.

  A commotion at the far end of the avenue caught their attention. A sleek and very solid-looking, field grey, armoured car was forcing its way through the crowd, who fell over each other to get out of the way. Reave quickly glanced at Billy. The armoured car seemed to be heading straight for them.

  'Think we should run?'

  A loudhailer mounted on the armoured car supplied the answer.

  'You there! Stop! Do not attempt to move!'

  Billy groaned.

  'Not again.'

  'Why always us?'

  'There seems to be something about authority that makes it home in on strangers.'

  The armoured car squealed to a stop beside them, and the turret swivelled ominously, pointing the snout of some kind of heat weapon at them. The speaker boomed again.

  'Take one pace away from each other and place your hands on your heads!'

  Billy and Reave did as they were told, and a hatch in the side of the machine swung open. Two men in grey uniforms and steel helmets climbed out and covered Reave and Billy with machine pistols. Tear gas canisters and long flexible rubber truncheons hung from the webbing of their tunics. Patches on their shoulders carried the single word Personnel and the figure 3.

  For Billy, there was something strangely familiar about their captors. Then he had a horrific flash of recognition. Their uniforms were the same as those of the sinister guards he'd seen on the road out of Graveyard. The fear he had felt then came back to him. He broke out in a cold sweat.

  One of the uniformed men poked Billy with his gun.

  'What are you doing here?'

  'Just passing through.'

  'The two of you, together?'

  'Yes.'

  'And what is your purpose for coming here?'

  'We got lost, and this was the first city we came to.'

  'It's hardly satisfactory. You better come with us.'

  'But we . . .'

  Before they could protest, they were bundled into the back of the armoured car. Their wrists were clamped into manacles on the wall, and they roared away. Both the vehicle and the men inside it were just as solid as Billy or Reave, and had none of the ghostly appearance of the rest of the population.

  The machine halted, and through a small ventilator Billy could see they were waiting to enter a tunnel that led through the tower's perimeter wall. A thick steel door slid back and they moved on. After a couple of minutes the armoured car halted and the rear hatch opened. Billy and Reave were re­leased from their manacles and ordered to get out. They were pushed into an enclosed courtyard where an escort, in similar uniforms to the armoured-car crew, waited for them. One of the escort, who had a figure 2 on his shoulder instead of a 3, walked over to the car commander. He jerked a thumb at Billy and Reave.

  'What are these two?'

  'Suspicious persons. Possibly vagrancy and unemployment. Possession of unauthorized stasis equipment. I was bringing them in for Search, Tests and Questioning.'

  He turned to the escort.

  'Take these two down for S. T. & Q.'

  The escort saluted, surrounded Billy and Reave and marched them away. Billy leaned close to Reave.

  'Looks like we're getting inside the tower, though . . .'

 
One of the escorts punched Billy in the side of the head, and he staggered.

  'Talking by prisoners is not permitted.'

  They were pushed into what looked like a service lift. It sank at high speed to a deep sub-basement level. The lift gates clanged open, and they were marched out into a large, white-tiled room. A stainless-steel counter ran down one side of the wall. Behind it were three men and a woman, in uniform shirt sleeves with the same Personnel-3 shoulder patches. As the escort marched out of the lift, one of them looked up.

  'What have you got there?'

  'Two prisoners for S. T. & Q.'

  'We'll have to throw them in the tank for a couple of hours. They've got a lot upstairs.'

  The escort pushed Billy and Reave towards the counter.

  'Just so long as you sign for them, I don't care what you do.'

  'Okay.'

  The man behind the counter picked up a clipboard. He scribbled something on it, tore off a slip and handed it to one of the escort. Then he turned to Billy and Reave.

  'Right, you two. Let's have you.'

  He looked round at one of his companions behind the counter.

  'Bring your gun. We'll I.D. them and then put them down.'

  The second man picked up a machine pistol, while the other tucked a file card and a set of electronic keys under his arm. Billy and Reave were taken through a series of small rooms where they were stripped, fingerprinted, photographed, blood typed and X-rayed. Their clothes, guns and porta-pacs were confiscated. They were given dog tags with a number printed on them and pushed through a steel door, down a short flight of steps and into a large bare room with a concrete floor and smooth tiled walls. Bright striplights were buried in the roof behind thick unbreakable glass. An iron bench ran down the middle of the room. Two of the ragged ghostly men from the outer city sat hunched up on it. Billy and Reave both sat down and looked round the room.

  High up in the ceiling was the unmistakable fisheye of a closed-circuit camera. There was also a loudspeaker hung in each corner of the room. Despite himself, Billy grinned. It was the first jail he'd ever been in with quad sound.