Time has a strange way of moving when you’re waiting for it to pass. It seems unbearably slow and then suddenly it’s gone. Quey was on the rooftop watching as the brood gathered and started off down the highway. He sat a spell, watching the waste. He looked down at where the Once Men had gathered near the river, the ground black with charred bodies and littered with the singed remnants of their camp. After a while he went back inside and found Reggie on the first floor, sitting alone in the restaurant with a table full of guns. They sat at a table and looked over the satellite images of the place they were supposed to head for in the not to distant.
“It’s a bad spot for an ambush,” Reggie said solemnly. “No high ground, no cover. A tree here or there but that’s not going to do you any good.”
“Think they’d just wait for us to get there and blow it up?” Quey pondered. He was hoping the big man would say no. Instead he simply shrugged.
“The repairs are complete,” Ryla said and they looked to her, then to each other.
Arnie was already in the garage as they entered. He was standing beside one of the idling cars, watching it. Reggie handed Quey one of the duffle bags and then headed over to where Arnie stood. He clapped the man on the back, said something to him, and they both moved toward the car.
Quey looked at Ryla and said, “You’re up for this?”
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“And you’re sure you can drive?”
“I have done it many times before.”
Quey nodded and they started for the other car.
When the door opened on the far wall Arnie and Reggie took the lead and sped out into the waste. Ryla handled the car better than Quey had anticipated, following close behind Arnie. They rolled over the rough terrain at a modest speed until they came to the road and then both Arnie and Ryla jammed their feet down on the accelerator. The cars roared down the highway and with a bit of a clang, as neither was in prime condition. Ryla had gotten them running, but that was about as much as she could do for them.
They continued along for a dozen or so kilometers before Reggie shouted for Arnie to stop. Arnie slammed his foot on the break and Reggie yanked the wheel, sending the car off the road. Ryla slammed on the break as well and the car protested. She gripped the wheel in both hands, desperate to keep control as they passed the other car on skidding tires. In the end she lost it a bit and the back end of the car swung away. She turned into the spin and held tight until it stopped, sideways across the crumbling lanes of the old road.
Ryla looked out her window, back the way they’d come and to the other car just off the road.
“Go go!” Reggie was shouting at Arnie but their car was stuck in the sand.
Quey opened his door and stepped out. He started around the back of the car but then he saw Reggie frantically signaling him to get down. Quey stood, staring until the big man leaned out the window and shouted, “Pothole.”
His eyes widened when he looked to the road and saw a fresh bit of tar amidst the crumbling concrete. Arnie shifted into reverse and finally got a bit of traction.
Quey ducked around the other side of the car and shouted, “Ryla!” He felt the shockwave ripple through the air, compressing his ribs and shuddering the car. The vehicle knocked into him as it slid sideways more than a few dozen centemeters and sent him tumbling to the ground. His ears were ringing and everything sounded far away as he struggled to his feet and opened the passenger’s side door. At first all he could see was blood.
Reggie grabbed Arnie’s head and pulled it down just in time. The explosion shook the car as it was backing away and sent bits of road into the air. When they sat up again they saw the damage to the other car, the driver’s side was torn up fairly bad and Reggie knew it hadn’t been one explosion but two. He’d seen this before, in the war. You dig a hole in the street and set your explosive inside. Then you cover it with a bit of tar and another explosive. The bomb on the surface is meant to stop vehicles, then the other goes off, and that’s the bad one. The one the brood had buried here, Reggie could tell, was a jumper. That meant it sprung up a bit before going off and judging by the look of the other car, it was full of shrapnel.
Reggie signaled for Arnie to pull ahead and he did. The big man stepped out as Quey climbed into the passenger’s side to help Ryla. The brood would want to stay hidden but they’d want to be close. He had a pistol in his hand, even though he didn’t remember getting it.
Arnie just stood watching as Reggie scanned the area. Then the big man’s eyes widened. He saw them closing in from either side of the road. They were moving fast, meaning to flank them. There was no chance here.
Reggie gripped Arnie’s head and forced him to watch as he spoke. “Help them,” he shouted slowly. “Get them back.”
Arnie was confused, even as he watched Reggie run back to the car. He didn’t know what was happening until the big man shifted it into gear and took off down the road.
Quey had pulled Ryla out of the passenger’s side of the car and laid her flat on the pavement. He was trying to figure out what to do when he saw the other car race away and gaped. Reggie wasn’t the sort to abandon his crew… but that wasn’t what he was doing. As a matter of fact it was just the opposite.
Arnie was at his side and pointing into the waste. The brood would be on them in a minute if they were lucky, probably less. The two of them loaded Ryla into the back of the car, Quey climbing in with her, and then Arnie jumped in behind the wheel, he could feel blood soaking into his clothes. The car was damaged but the engine was still idling. He set his foot hard on the petal and started back for the compound.
Keep focused, Reggie reminded himself. There was a trick to situations like this. You had to think far enough ahead to anticipate what was coming without going so far you lost sight of where you were.
The road was long and empty and he kept his mind focused. Just far enough ahead. No farther.
Reggie was fairly certain that the brood’s ambush hadn’t been part of the message sent to them by Richter Crow for a few reasons. The first was that if the location given had been fake it would have made more sense. The farmhouse in the middle of nowhere was a terrible place to claim as a meeting point, unless it really was. Another tell was that it had been sloppy, a bomb in the road and then a mad dash from so far out in the wastes that they had plenty of time to counter the attack. No, Render had worked that bit out on his own, which left the farmhouse. There was something there, a reason for the choice of location he meant to discover.
As the sun slowly set he drove with the cruise control set and one hand on the wheel, his left, so his right was free to snatch a gun off the seat beside him should the need arise. That was an example of staying just far enough ahead. The brood may have bumbled their play but there still might be a trap waiting at the old farm. That didn’t matter now, however, because he wasn’t there yet. Right now he was on the road and the road held dangers all its own. Could be savages deciding they hadn’t hunted anyone down in a while, or it might be bandits just looking to steal what he has. Could even be the Brood taking another crack at him, though he suspected that wasn’t likely. Nonetheless, it was foolish to overlook any of it.
“The only thing that can kill you,” his first commanding officer had told him, “Is what you don’t see coming. Stay sharp and ready and be mindful,” he’d clapped Reggie on the back and told him, “shit dark man, you’re a soldiers worst nightmare.”
They’d had a laugh at that, but it had saved them just now. If he hadn’t spotted the patch in the road they’d have rolled over it and the explosion would have crippled them before the second one had a chance to tear through them both.
He tensed a bit as he saw something off the road, to the left, and sat up in the driver’s seat. There was a shape out in the waste, not far off the road. He squinted into the darkness but it didn’t help. If someone was out there they’d have seen him coming already so he flipped on his high beams hoping they’d help him make out what was the
re. They didn’t.
The gun was heavy in his hand, a .45 caliber automatic, but it felt good too. Right. Like it belonged there. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he had to admit if one happened it’d take the edge off a bit. Of course if he died here then it really would be for nothing.
Whatever the object was he kept eyes on it till he passed. Nothing happened, and when he was sure nothing was going to happen he set his gun aside and settled back in his seat. Ahead the road continued, strait and endless, the same went for behind. Reggie felt like the only man in the world, his car a pocket of life nestled in the nothingness of the waste, racing on and through the night.
Rachel and Natalie were waiting in the garage when the car screeched to a halt less than two meters from them. They rushed in as Quey opened the back door and stepped out covered in blood. Natalie looked in and saw how pale Ryla was. She checked her heartbeat and wasn’t sure.
“I need to get to work now.”
“Where?” Quey asked.
“Rachel said something about a medical lab or something.”
They looked to her and she replied frantically, “I guess there’s supposed to be one in the second basement.”
“We need something to carry her on,” Natalie barked.
“There,” Arnie yelped and ran toward a sheet of metal. It was awkward for a stretcher, a little wide and had no good place to hold onto while you were carrying it, but it would work.
They loaded Ryla carefully onto the sheet. Arnie took one end and Quey the other as they hurried inside with quick short steps and made their way to the elevators. It seemed to take an hour for the doors to open and even longer for the car to make it past the first basement and to the second. When the doors opened Quey hurried down the hall so fast Arnie almost dropped his end.
“Where?” Quey barked. Rachel and Natalie raced through the corridors, looking into each of the rooms. Finally Natalie called from the hallway on the left. “Here.”
Quey and Arnie started forward. Arnie could feel his arms beginning to burn and the metal cutting into his hands. Quey didn’t feel anything.
Natalie was at the end of the hall and they carried Ryla into a large room packed with equipment. Eyes scanning and jaw gaped, Natalie looked around and asked, “What the hell is this place?”
“Natalie,” Quey barked and she snapped out of it and hurried over to one of the machines. She’d read about them in school and knew they existed in a few hospitals but she’d never seen one before. It was a machine that produced a synthetic blood substitute. It wasn’t as good as real blood but it would keep a patient alive through in depth surgeries or if they’d suffered massive injuries and extreme blood loss. “Lay her out on the table,” Natalie shouted. Arnie and Quey lifted her, she weighed more than her frame suggested, but then maybe they were just weak from the adrenaline dump and carrying her all the way down here. With a grunt they managed to set her on the metal table.
“What do you need?” Rachel asked.
“That,” Natalie replied, pointing toward a cart in the far corner.
Rachel wheeled it over and Natalie brought the synthetic blood machine over to the other side of the bed. She pulled a tube from the machine, attached a needle to the end of it and slid it into the vein in the crook of her arm. With the tap of a few buttons she began running the blood to her, then crossed to the other side of the table and tended her wounds. The shrapnel had torn through two places along the left side of her abdomen and there was another wound in her leg and possibly yet another in her ribs. If that were the case things might get really ugly.
She started with the wounds along the side of her belly. One was close to her kidney and even if the organ was unscathed stab wounds like this had a tendency to bleed. Natalie pulled the chunk of metal out of her and then poked into the wound and felt around a bit. “I think her kidney is fine,” she began then trailed off. Her face twisted with confusion.
“What is it?” Quey snapped.
Natalie looked down at Ryla and her eyes widened. She jumped back on her heels, breathing heavily. “I thought you said she was human,” she gasped, looking to Quey.
“She is,” he replied but then he saw what had made Natalie jump. She’d pulled a set of wires out of Ryla’s wound.
Following the road as it snaked along some hills above the field, Reggie took the last bite of the burger he’d stopped for ten kilometers back. In the field below, amidst the tall grass that rippled with sunlight as it danced in the early afternoon wind, Reggie saw the house and barn. When Reggie felt his view wasn’t going to get any better he pulled over and shifted the car into park.
Chewing slowly, Reggie sat watching the farm for the better part of an hour and decided there was no one there. If this was a trap, it wouldn’t come as a hail of bullets. Still, he took his rifle and pair of handguns with him when he left the car and started through the field.
The grass was tall, nearly to his waist and a tangled mess near the roots. Still, he kept his steps shallow. If there were explosives out here they wouldn’t bother with burying shit in terrain like this. They’d simply toss them out into the tall grass.
Searching as he went turned a thirty-minute hike into something that took over an hour. When he finally made it to the barn he squatted along the north wall and took a minute to recover, not from the physical demands of the walk, but the mental.
He wished he’d brought some water, but there was no use dwelling on what couldn’t be changed so he stood and edged around the building. When he came to the corner he peered around it, rifle ready, and looked at the house. It had been blue many years ago but most of the paint was in some stage of chipping or peeling. The roof was missing shingles and the wrap around porch, once white, looked like it was barely hanging on. At least the windows were free of drapes or blinds so he settled against the corner of the barn and watched it for a long while, waiting to see if anything moved.
When he was satisfied the quiet was real he stepped around the corner to the first window of the barn. The glass was tinted yellow by dirt and grime, which made seeing inside a chore. He took three quick glances without making out anything useful. Finally he took a deep breath and moved to face the window and gazed inside. Nothing. The barn was empty.
Reggie sighed and unease ran its fingers along his spine. Nothing about this was right. Nothing about it made sense. Of course there might be nothing here at all. That was a possibility he’d run through during the ride out here.
He turned to face the house. Whatever was here, it was waiting for him inside.
Three stairs led up from the dirt to the tattered porch. He moved to the wall beside the heavy door and stood with his back to it. A quick scan of the surrounding fields showed him no one was around. The big man eased himself along the wall to the first window, far clearer than the one he’d looked through at the barn, and peeked inside. The house was empty.
Head hung, Reggie turned back to the door and tried the knob. There was a loud click and then the door swung inward under the pressure of the afternoon breeze.
Fathers and Their Daughters
Rain awoke cold and naked on a slab of concrete. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of the place, old sweat and… other bodily excretions. Soreness ran deep and through her as she began to move. She felt like she’d been tossed down a flight of stairs and it hurt to swallow. She rubbed at her throat and winced as her finger ran over what must have been bruises.
For the first few moments what had happened was unclear. Then she remembered being in her father’s office and the look in his eyes. Sticklan Stone had been there. He’d moved toward her and she’d backed away. He smiled when he saw the fight in her.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” her father had said. His voice was distant, cold and maybe a little sad.
She was backed into a corner with nowhere left to go and Sticklan was on her. After that it got fuzzy, flashes of memory here and there. She recalled his face close to her’s, mouth peeled back in a viol
ent sneer and his eyes, they chilled her even to recall. They looked at her with such excitement and anticipation. She’d seen the look before, in the eyes of lovers she’d taken when need consumed them and forced their thrusts.
A shiver passed through her, partly because it was cold in the room and partly because of that look. She didn’t remember him stripping her down or anything that had come after but she didn’t feel like she’d been raped.
The room was large and dark, the only light drifted through dark grime coated windows high up near the ceiling. It was a basement, she realized as she staggered to her feet. As her eyes began to adjust she saw the metal cabinets lining the wall to her right and the stairs leading up to her left. She hurried to the later and climbed the old wooden steps, the rough wood biting at her feet as she ascended. The door was heavy and as she groped at it in the dark she discovered there was no handle. She pulled back her fist, meaning to slam it against the wood but as her hand began forward she thought maybe the only reason he wasn’t in here with her was that he thought she was still asleep. Her fist halted centimeters from the door and she grunted and stomped her feet instead.
Defeated, she turned and started back down the steps.
The stink of the place caught in her nose as she entered it again and she took a moment to learn to ignore it. ‘I’m not the first woman to find herself locked away in this place,’ the thought cut through her like a blade and the wound bled fear.
She knew it was pointless but still she tried the metal cabinets along the wall opposite the staircase. They were locked and she was not surprised. Defeated again but still not sapped of hope, she turned to the room and scanned it. There was a set of wooden chairs in the corner under the staircase and a long metal table—the type usually found in a morgue, she couldn’t help but notice—along the far back wall. Rain swallowed hard and considered the windows up near the ceiling.
The Saffron Malformation Page 66
