by Alex Bobl
Branches rustled. Wong and Wladas appeared from the brushwood followed by Jim.
All alive, even though Wong and Georgie were slightly worse for wear. I slung the carbine over my shoulder and told Wladas to find his first-aid kit and take care of the wounded. Then I called Jim and headed for the grove to collect all the raiders' weapons.
Georgie screamed my name. I looked round.
Kathy attacked me and even managed to punch me in the face when Wong arrived and swept her off her feet. He clenched a pistol in one hand while the other dangled, lifeless, as he trained the gun on the girl and started pulling the trigger. His face showed no emotion.
"Wait!" I raised my hand. "Don't."
Wong glanced at me without lowering his aim.
I touched my swollen cheekbone feeling for any loose teeth, and spat blood. The girl knew what she was doing. Without taking any notice of Wong, Kathy showered me with expletives. I really wanted to slap her face but stopped myself as her last phrase superseded my anger and cleared my mind.
Wong and I exchanged glances. He put the gun down. I nodded to him to join the rest and held out my hand to Kathy.
She knocked it away and hissed, glaring at me, "Quit gawking, you idiot! I was just going to set you all free back there at the coast! But you needed to play Superman, didn't you? And now..."
"You," I squatted in front of her. "You knew about me. On the day when the ferry sunk. You are..."
"Exactly! I'm your contact, you fucking idiot. Now people have died because of you. Johnny's dead now..."
"Keep it quiet," I pressed my hand to her mouth. "If you have something to say, stick to the point. Emotions won't help."
I removed my hand. She gasped for air, her glare burning a hole right through me.
"Better now?" I checked the others out, giving orders. Jim went to collect the raiders' weapons left in the grove. Wladas had to get out some bandages and antiseptics and start helping the wounded.
Wong was already busy, his knife slicing through the tourniquet on his arm. Georgie stared at us in amazement, forgetting the gash on his hip.
"So?" I looked down at Kathy.
She nodded and spoke in a quiet voice,
"When McLean realized the ferry was gone, I arranged it with him to be sent to the coast with the rest. I tried to tell you..."
"Doesn't matter," I shook my head. "We can't change it now. What was your objective?"
"To meet you and provide you with arms and transport."
"I see. Get up then. You can go with us."
I offered her my hand. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted it and rose.
We came back to the dead Famba to retrieve our money. While I was frisking him, Jim reappeared from behind the trees, two shotguns on his shoulder. I took one and told him to give the other one to Wong. Having shoved the fabric tube with the coins into my pocket, I slid Famba's handgun into my belt and hurried after Jim. Georgie tried to tell me something; I waved him away and took my field glasses back from Wong, then ordered him to go up to the hilltop.
"Try to be quick," I told Wladas and followed the Chinese. I needed to have a good look around. Kathy trailed behind.
The sun had nearly set flooding the desert with crimson. Humpbacks slowly circled the dark waters by the bank. They'd finished Grunt off and were looking for more edibles.
"Did you sleep with any of them?" I asked inspecting the desert through my field glasses.
"Why would you want to know? It's history."
I looked at her. Kathy was now her old self. Okay, her nose was swollen and she was growing two black eyes even as we spoke. Still, cold superiority shone in her glare. Even when Georgie and Grunt - may he rest in peace - had fished us out of the water, they hadn't given us this kind of eyeballing.
Apparently, McLean valued her enough despite her character. Still I wondered how she'd convinced him to send the truck to the coast to get us out. The FSA, too, must have prized her enough to assign her as my contact. What had they promised her? An amnesty and safe return to Earth? No deportee would dare dream of more. She'd followed me all the way to the desert - no small feat...
I didn't like it. When you lay yourself out for a cause straining every sinew, the cause had better be worth it. A mega cause, one you'd do anything to achieve, otherwise it wouldn't be worth her while tracking me down. She could have reported to the FSA that she'd lost me, end of story.
I lowered the glasses.
"I wonder why they left? The cyber troopers?" gingerly, she felt her broken nose. "They could easily have found and killed us all."
"They could have received new orders."
How old was she? Could be twenty-five or in her thirties, even. Fine crow's feet webbed her eyes, but she was fit and bronzed, her teeth white and straight. She definitely took good care of herself.
"Could they?" again she felt her nose and winced as she touched a raw scratch. "I don't understand it."
"They were cybers - cyber troopers. Their controller must have called them off. According to the Feds' data, Varlamov has three of them. Apparently, he needed them to do something else." I looked at the expanse of sand stretching to the horizon. "That's not what worries me. How did they know we would travel by boat?"
"That's easy," Kathy chuckled. "King radioed the riggers about you."
"King?" I turned to her. "That's Lars Swenson."
That's what he'd warned Grunt about just before we left. I should have checked. But why had he done it? Did he mistrust me? Possible. For him, I was an infantry sergeant who could easily take the side of the escaped conspirators. Then he'd lose the booty I'd promised him. Wonder what he needed the weapons for?
"What was the radio about?" I asked.
"Just your names. The thunderstorm started, so they couldn't read beyond that, just that you were heading for the riggers' base. If we were able to intercept the message, they," she nodded at the desert, "could have done it just as easily. They're not stupid. These cyber troopers might've had better reception, too, which could explain why they found you first."
I nodded. She went on, "Didn't it surprise you that the cybers recognized some of you?"
I tried to remember their conversation. At the time, their words hadn't rung any bells, but on second thoughts...
"You think we have a mole?"
She shrugged.
"All right then. Let's go."
Something rustled behind our backs. Sniffling and gasping for air, Georgie limped up the slope.
"What's with all this shooting the breeze?" he croaked eyeing Kathy angrily.
"Go fuck yourself," Kathy suggested.
"You bitch!" Georgie bared his knife. "I'll rip your guts out! I'll make you fuck clones!"
Wong, returning from the recce, caught up with him and twisted his arm, leading him down the slope like a cop with an arrestee. We followed.
Biting his lip, Jim watched us. Wladas touched his shoulder, "Help me to repack the bag, will you?"
"You fucking gook!" Georgie wriggled in Wong's grip. "If I... If you.."
Finally, Wong forced him onto the ground and strapped his hands with his belt.
"We need to find somewhere to spend the night," I said to Kathy. "Know someplace safe?"
"Yeah," she waved south. "Past those hills, there's a cave. We could go there."
"Fine. You'll show us."
I gave the others five minutes' grace to pack their stuff and freshen themselves up. After some consideration, I presented Wladas with the handgun and passed the shotgun to Jim. I kept Kathy's gun.
"Whatcha gonna do next?" she tried to conceal her disappointment at not being trusted with a weapon. "We'll stay there for the night, and then what? Back to New Pang?"
"No. That's wasting our time. We need to go eastward to the swamps. I need to have a word with the farmers." I tightened my belt, checked the sheathed knife at my side, attached the water flask next to it, blew at the field glass lenses and looked up at her. "Know where we could get a car? Georgie
said something about an oasis seven miles away or so. According to him, it's some raiders' base or other."
"I know," Kathy said after a pause.
"You think they have some wheels?"
"Used to," she frowned.
"Is it a big detour from where we're going?"
She shook her head.
"All right, then. Tomorrow morning we start straight for the oasis. If we can't get a car, we'll have to follow the river until we find the riggers. They'll think of something car wise, I'm sure."
"Across the desert? Are you nuts?"
I sized her up and down grinning.
"God loves the infantry," I rearranged the gun on my shoulder. "If we can't get the wheels at the oasis, then we'll work something out with the riggers."
"Why can't we go there straight away?" Kathy stared at me, uncomprehending. "Wouldn't it be easier?"
"It wouldn't. First, we have casualties. Second, I've no idea who's waiting for us there. Could be Varlamov's cybers for all I know."
"I wouldn't bet on the raiders giving us a car," she interrupted. "They could be home or in New Pang, you can't tell. Besides, any vehicle here is worth its weight in gold. More."
"I've got gold," I patted my pants pocket. Before I could continue, she butted in again,
"They'll kill us and take the money."
I looked at her as I considered all the pros and cons. I had to agree with Kathy: our little group was badly armed and had two wounded men to boot. Now we were more than just comrades in misery: we were outlaws entering a trap. The girl was right: the moment the raiders saw the money, we were history. Lars Swenson knew it - that's why he told me to go see the riggers and Fritz Havlow first.
"Right," I said. "Imagine we arrive at the oasis and the raiders aren't there. What is there? A farm? Some livestock?"
Kathy thought about it.
"We could swap some ammo with the shepherd for his mules and a bit of food."
"That'll do," I turned to the rest. "Everybody ready?"
Georgie looked at me frowning. Wladas nodded. Jim apparently couldn't care less, so used he was to being ordered around. Wong maintained his usual smile, albeit slightly forced, his arm bandages soaked with blood. How much blood had he lost? Would he make it? Once we got to the cave, we had to inspect his wound and patch it up. He needed some proper rest, too, if we wanted him to move on.
"Kathy's one of us now," I said.
Georgie sniffed.
"She is one of us," I repeated for his sake and pulled the gun off my shoulder. "Let's get going. Kathy and myself first, Jim and Wladas next. Wong and Georgie in the rear. Kathy will show the way."
She didn't move, her absent stare fixed on the truck.
"Kathy?" I called. "It's time to go."
The girl stirred. "I want my gun back."
Chapter Three
Jim
The cave wasn't a cave, really - more like another one of those Forecomers' mysteries. The oblong entrance, too regular to be natural, barely showed in the steep hill slope. Grass grew over its top edge. A truck could pass through it easily. It opened into a tunnel a few hundred feet long, too straight and level, its walls artificially smooth with marble-like veins running through the gray stone. I tried to scratch it with my knife, but the blade left no trace on the matt surface glistening in the twilight. The beacon towers back on the river seemed to be made of the same material. The tunnel ended in a rough black basalt wall, or at least that's what I thought it was.
We were way too exhausted to start a fire. I prepared to stand guard through the night: if I got too tired, I could ask Jim to replace me. Wladas and I cleaned Wong's wound and patched it up the best we could, then did the same to Georgie's. Finally, I told everyone to get some sleep.
I sent Kathy to the end of the tunnel away from the rest. She didn't look too happy about it but chose to keep it to herself even though I could see she was dying to give me a piece of her mind. I strategically placed Georgie by the entrance hoping he and the girl wouldn't bump into each other during the night as they still kept exchanging hateful glances. Between them lay Wladas, his head resting on his bag and handgun, and the ever-watchful Wong.
Night descended onto the hills and the valley below. The black sky twinkled with stars. The silence would have driven me mad, had it not been for my men's disturbed breathing. It didn't feel real, as if I wasn't on Pangea any more; it was as if I had no mission, no FSA brass to report to, just sitting there musing on top of a hill far from civilization, and below lay the Russian steppe overgrown with feather grass, its air fragrant with lavender and filled with grasshoppers' chirping.
I woke up with a start. Had I been dozing off for long? Pangea had no moons, and the starlight was barely enough to make out the outline of the shadowless hills. I hadn't a chance in hell of telling the time.
After a moment's hesitation, I woke Jim up. He forced his eyes open, nodded and, shotgun in hand, walked toward the cave entrance.
I looked over our trophies. Two Remingtons and thirty cartridges. Kathy's gun turned out to be Italian: as I looked closer, I made out the word Benelli on the grip. The gun had an elongated magazine and a switch between pump and semi-auto. A good gun: light, trustworthy and versatile. Not a bad choice at all considering the terrain. I wasn't quite ready to trust Kathy with it, and Georgie even less so. Let's see first how they got along with the others.
I watched Jim's back as he sat by the cave's entrance. Then I walked over to Wladas and pulled the handgun out from under his bag. He kept sniffing away even as I lifted his head and took the bag itself. Wong opened his eyes the moment I approached, and it took me some time to explain to him, in a whisper, why I needed his gun.
Cleaning the guns would make the time pass quicker. It would keep me awake, too. I sat down next to a sleepy-eyed Jim and reached into the bag for some rags with Kathy's gun across my lap.
"Let me do it," he said.
He sounded like a fully grown man, not the underage deck boy I'd known. This was the first time he'd really spoken to me, and the fact in itself was weird considering we'd already been through thin and thick together.
He pulled the bag closer, took the gun and began taking it apart deftly and expertly, laying the pieces out on a clean cloth that I had put down for him.
"Where did you learn all this?" I asked. "You know how to use a gun, don't you?"
Jim looked up at me. "My uncle taught me."
He was still a teenager with his starry eyes and a pride in his voice. At this age, praise from one's father or a mentor gives you wings and makes you forget past wrongs. It feels as if life will never end.
Had he had a normal life, really? Jim hadn't seen anything yet, apart from Pangea. He'd never been on Earth. Whatever he knew about it, he knew from Pangean deportees.
"I need to ask you something," he said, serious.
"Ask away."
Jim fingered the breech staring at the valley, preparing to speak.
"They all say," he nodded at the cave, "Georgie, Uncle Lars, Grunt... everyone says the same thing. Life on Earth is real hard, they say. Governments choke the life out of people with their laws, prisons and taxes. Before, there used to be political parties, or so I've been told. It was they who fought for power and started the war," he scratched the top of his head. "Now that they've discovered Pangea, they use it to exile offenders. To instill law and order, like. But that's something I don't understand. How come there're so many offenders? They keep shipping them in several times a month."
He looked up at me. I frowned looking for the right words to explain. But apparently, he hadn't finished.
"This is the thing I wanted to ask you. If all these political prisoners are exiled because they wanted justice for everyone, how come they start doing the same things here?" He thought and added, "Here, they're also at each other's throats fighting for power. They take advantage of the weak. It's like they wanted a better life on Earth, but here they start doing the same thing their governments do."
I stared at him, unable to answer while he went on, "People like McLean, it's pretty obvious they shouldn't have any power. So why do they all obey him back in town? Why should they?" He recovered his breath and finished, anxious, "Did you understand? You know what I mean?"
I did indeed. Talk about straightforward.
"Listen," I reached for the flask in the bag's side pocket. "How d'you know this stuff about laws and taxes? Who told you about parties and political prisoners?"
"My parents did."
"Who are they? Who were they back on Earth?"
"My dad was a neurosurgeon. My mom, a schoolteacher."
"Where are they now?"
"They died. During the plague."
He took out his knife, pushed the gun parts to one side and used the end of the cloth to wipe the breech.
"I'm sorry," slowly, I unscrewed the flask top. "I really am."
"It's all right. It's been a while."
He sat there, composed. Even his voice didn't give.
"I don't remember my parents," I took a large swig and put the flask away. "I grew up in an orphanage. I remember getting here, but not what happened to my family. It's as if I'd had a memory wipe."
I sat there, silent, surprised at my own thoughts. I'd never thought about my parents before. I didn't know who they were or what they did. Weird. Not normal.
"You," I started, "you're right what you've just said. You can't change everyone. We just don't seem to be able..."
I wanted him to understand me but I didn't know which words to use with this homeschooled boy.
"To do what?" he opened the breech and picked up the slide spring. "Able to do what?"
"Did your father tell you about his work?"
"He did. He told me a lot. I loved listening to his stories. He had a journal where he kept all his science notes."
"Then you must know that our bodies are made of flexible systems. We are decentralized."
"I know what you mean," he nodded. "We don't have one particular organ which controls all of our body."
"Exactly. Now if some system unit fails, the system would normally restructure the traffic. But if your heart or liver or kidneys are damaged, you'll most likely die."
