The Sands of Borrowed TIME ∞ BOOK 1 ∞ Hazy Sun days
∞ Jeffry Winters ∞
© 2016 by Jeffry Winters. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is explicitly granted by the publisher or author.
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Contents
Prologue
Rumble on the Prairie
Abducted
Girl Talk
Watching from the Shadows
In Search of Nothing
Westward Bound
The Scars of Freedom
Arbitrary Detention
The Crow
City Bound
Missing on the Highway
Salvage
Woman in the Haze
Caught in the Crossfire
Under the Rainbow
The Ship
The First Snow
Northward Bound
Escape!
Ship in the Sky
Chance Encounter
Campfire Stories
Out Run
Worried Guardians
Time to Leave
Freedom
Bright Eyes in the Storm
Northbound Adventure
Sun Day Jolly
On Shaky Ground
Bag your Man
Consumed
Bracelet on the Blanket
Surprise Catch
Grand Theft Auto
Spooks
Through the Caverns
Bright Eyes
Boy at the Roadside
Runaway
Running in and out of Trouble
Ever Onwards North
Unwanted Guests
The City of Surprises
Space Gun
Stranded and Beaten
Loud Surprise in the Box
Back into the Prairie
The Bright Eyes of Life
Reflections in the Sky
Shootout!
The Cottage
Where is Everyone?
Shopping Trolley
Walking through the Lungs of the Earth
Jack-knife
The Coming of the Storms
Alignment
Best Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
Revelation
Sapphires & Emeralds
Then There Were Two
Epilogue
Prologue
Where are you? She reached out into the wilderness, but there was nobody there, only the bustling sand, driven by the hot, dry wind. The Sun beat down on her aching head, her skin burning from its fierce rays. The dryness of her throat was unbearable as she stumbled on through the wasteland. Her heart fluttered with panic. She did not know what to do or where to go. She was all alone. She fell to the ground, unable to continue, staring upwards into the brilliant light. She closed her eyes as she was raised upwards. Then there was nothing.
Rumble on the Prairie
Carla looked over her shoulder and signalled her troops to move forward into the desert, towards the east where the dry prairie soil met the escarpment of the rocky hills. She had brought with her an assortment of freaks; types that were willing to fight for everyone’s freedom, or as she came to actually believe, just loved the violence, the thrill of it all. It gave them relief from their otherwise mundane lives, she thought. Her dark blue eyes followed them, watching them charge forward, releasing their aggression joyfully and without shame. A mischievous smile widened across her face. She knew it was good to unshackle their chains for a while, allowing them to satisfy their beastly desires. There were men, women, boys and girls. The bandits were gaining too much power over the plains towards the east, she felt, making it difficult to travel and explore, unless in numbers. They had to show their authority; stamp them out and set an example to others with similar ambition. She would be generous, though; bandits had a certain art that could be useful to her. They could either join her or die. Those that wanted a part of their way, however, would need to improve their hygiene, she thought, remembering their foul odour the last time they rubbed shoulders.
As the vehicles gained speed, Cain stood up through the sunroof of the power wagon, looking across at Kyla through the spray of dust as she rode her jeep alongside.
“To be brave is to be beautiful!” he shouted across at her, thrusting his arm in the air, rifle in hand. She smirked back, pulling her shades down from her eyes as she looked over to him, also thrusting her hand into the air. He loved that grin, so chaotic and full of madness, yet her lovely eyes, one blue and one green, were so sincere and affectionate. Cain could feel the power wagon bounce over the sand as it sped across the prairie, revelling in the rush of adrenaline it gave him. “Here we come, motherfuckers!” he shouted. “The children of the bastard damned are coming to cut your fucking little dicks off!” he continued, shaking his head with excitement. Callee twisted back the throttle of her chopper, letting the V8 engine rip into a glorious symphony of piston sounds.
She looked across at Cain, “He’s fucking gone with the fairies,” she said aloud to herself as he screamed and hollered his way across the prairie.
Cain noticed her looking, and pointed at her shouting, “Anybody gives you shit! They give me shit!” He focused on the ship in the distance, pounding his hands on the wagon’s roof to the beat of a war march, ranting something incoherently.
“A child of the damned, perhaps,” she sniggered, “but his mum was such a lovely woman.”
Kyla and Callee, the scouts of the troop, had gone to Carla worried about the bandits. They had been watching them from a small hideaway, out towards the east. The bandits were getting more and more organised as time went on, assimilating victims into their brotherhood to carry out their wicked deeds. It was getting more and more difficult to scout for resources, therefore threatening their existence. Carla, therefore, called a meeting, and it was decided they should strike them immediately before it was too late. The vehicles continued to thunder across the hot plains, billowing sand and dirt high into the sky. We should be an awesome sight for the fiends, Carla thought; a whirlwind from the west.
“For those tough enough; love me tender, love me to the very end!” Cain sang, shouting his lungs out, punching his fists into the air while swinging his head up and down. Jeff sped along behind them in his buggy, holding his hands tight on the steering wheel as the suspension shuddered along the dry and bumpy ground, his head leaning forward into the wind, dark goggles over his eyes, focusing intently on the ground ahead. His sister Laren stood behind him, arms wrapped around a mounted machine gun, her eyes wide as saucers with excitement as she absorbed the landscape rushing towards her. This was their loss of innocence, yet they yearned for it more than anything, both of them speeding along with smiles of contentment. The sound of horns echoed from a land ship coming towards them.
“We see you, my lovelies!” Cain barked, clapping his hands in anticipation of the clash. Several flares were launched into the sky from their hamlet on the hill to the west. It was their war signature, their promise to spill blood. They raced up into the sky, howling like a battle cry, their bright flames streaming into and through the dark clouds ominously. Cain looked up, giving a salute, then turned to clap everyone as if giving his or her appraisal, finishing with a bow. Kyla laughed, Cain relishing in its vulnerability, the shape of her lips as they quivered with ticks.
“This is turning to be a fun day out,” he spoke aloud t
o himself.
The approaching land ship was flanked by two bikes, both with side-mounted guns, Carla noticed through her telescope from the back of the wagon. The land ship also appeared to have a variety of mounted weapons from RPGs to machine guns.
“Come on then!” Cain shouted. “Who wants to be tickled first?”
From the overlooking village, the rest of the group could see two large dust clouds racing towards each other, mixed with the dark blue smoke of burnt gasoline from worn engines.
“Come to me! Let them come and see me first!” Cain shrieked, badgering the land ship to hurry towards him.
“Sing me a lullaby!” Kyla broke in, shouting across to Cain, shielding her mouth from the blowing sand with her hand. “It gets me in that mad, angry mood!” she continued, using her hand this time to blow a kiss at Cain. He caught it in his hands and blew it back at her, watching her face break out in affectionate ticks.
“Hush-a-bye baby, from the treetops, when the wind blows the cradle will rock.” Cain, this time, mocking an operatic voice as he held a hand over his heart, both Kyla and Callee bursting out into giggles. Before them, the two motorbikes suddenly flanked out wide while the ship opened fire.
“Game fucking on!” Cain shouted, reaching down for an RPG from his seat. Kyla and Callee opened fire in response from their bike mounted machine guns. Laren joined the mayhem, unloading several bullets from her gun as her body jolted violently from the recoils. The gunfire could be heard from the hills, where villagers were manoeuvring gigantic mirrors to concentrate burning sunlight onto the enemy ship.
“Fuck me senseless, the girl has a pair of balls,” he laughed, looking around in amazement as Laren swung the gun around at one of the flanking motorbikes. “Why do girls smile when they are hunting down their prey,” he thought amusingly. Cain held the RPG up, aiming at the bandit’s ship. “I dedicate this shot to my mum, family, and friends, for their generous support and love over the years.” He kissed the rocket and pressed the launcher, fighting back the recoil as it thundered towards the wooden vessel. “However, as you can see my problems persist!” He laughed and jumped up and down on the car seat, banging the roof of the wagon as the rocket hit the land ship, breaking off one of the wheels before exploding, engulfing its underside in flames. “Beautiful!” he cried. “War, after all, is an art, painted with lots and lots of red,” revelling in the mayhem. Carla could see that the ship had stopped moving, waving her riders on to keep moving forward. However, she should have realised that no encouragement was needed as she looked at their faces, full of enthusiasm and excitement. Kyla could see a bike approach from behind in her mirrors.
He looks really fat, she thought.
“This is one well fed, little piggy,” she said aloud. She reached forward, beyond the front of her seat, and hit a button on the fuel tank, releasing a trail of yellow spray behind her. “Here’s some mustard for your hot dogs!” she laughed, watching the rider cough and clutch at his eyes as he fell from his bike. Kyla felt somehow proud that it was that easy and blew Cain another kiss.
“I’m in the mood for a little bit more!” Cain shouted, receiving the kiss into his hands and placing it on his heart. Kyla responded with a smile so insane looking that Cain thought he was falling in love. Ahead, the land ship was quickly being consumed by flames.
“Carla, pass me another RPG please?”
“Why; we don’t really need to, do we? “she replied, looking up surprised.
“Shame to waste it, Carla.”
“Waste it?” she questioned as she handed Cain the RPG anyway.
“Thank you. You're so kind,” he said with a smile.
“This one I dedicate to Carla and all who sail with her.”
Carla giggled as Cain fired the RPG, “I’m surrounded by fucking clowns,” she thought as the bandit’s ship disintegrated in an exploding cacophony of splintering wood and roaring flames. There was still the question of the other flanking motorbike. Had he fled? Carla thought. From the hill, though, the villagers perceived another threat. Through the yellow haze of dust and sand, they could see an airship descending above Carla's troops, its big oval shape reflecting the sunlight from above the dust clouds. Carla and the flock appeared unaware as they stood looking at the burning wreckage of the land ship, watching proudly as their efforts went up in smoke. The villagers sounded the alarm, their warning signal from an old air raid siren. It wailed across the plains.
What's up? Carla thought, looking around the plains worriedly.
“What the fuck!” Cain said aloud, looking around also. The villagers had a plan; burn it from the sky with the Sun’s reflection off their mirrors. They rotated three large mirrors until they focused a large beam of sunlight onto the ships balloon. The troops all looked up as their attention was caught by a blinding flash of light that swiftly swung up, penetrating through the haze.
“There’s something up there, you think?” Carla asked, the troops all looking to the sky and searching through the swirling haze. Suddenly they all looked back to the plains. There was the rattle of machine gun fire as a trail of dust danced across the ground towards them. Kyla reacted quickly, firing her gun at the remaining motorbike that appeared again, as if from nowhere, rushing towards her. She smiled, her aim was perfect, watching as the rider slumped forwards onto the bike’s handlebars. Her wide, adrenaline focused eyes followed the bike as it juddered along the prairie, her attention suddenly distracted by a loud explosion in the sky. They all looked up, seeing a massive fireball slowly descend, breaking up into several parts as it meandered downwards until each flaming piece hit the ground in a series of dull explosions.
“Job well done, guys,” Carla shouted through the window. “Time to move along my friends. It looks like we’re all finished here. Time to go home. Let's go back.” And with that, they all rode back towards the western escarpment, lined with the crucifixes of dead bandits, back as Carla had said to their home.
Abducted
Aveline stared sleepily into the campfire. It was dawn, and she was the first awake. The flames danced and flickered as she poked the cinders underneath with a branch. Grey smoke rose from its glow into the damp morning air until it merged with the mist that hung above the trees. The cold of the night lingered, and she shivered a little beneath her old, brown coat. Aveline had told Leon about the ship that was drifting ashore, stacked high with containers. She had seen it from the cliff tops as she rode her motorcycle down from the North after visiting Rhoswen and Riana at their camp. Aveline wondered what could be inside them; clothes, food, maybe some jewellery. She smiled as she imagined herself ornamented with jewels, complemented by new, fresh clothes and the look on her sister’s faces when she went to visit them. However, today she would visit in her old, torn clothes, the same ones she had been wearing day after day for years, washed only by rain or sea. A message had come from her dad, by the use of signals on the shortwave. Something had spooked her sisters out in the woods, and they wanted to see her.
The resonant growl of her Harley V-Rod as it leisurely cruised up the highway, broke the morning silence for miles around. It’s dark, metallic frame, fixed low onto wide tyres, with their spinning yellow discs, looked menacing. It seemed like a motor-powered Hornet was buzzing across the prairie, leaving a trail of dust behind it. Aveline wore no helmet. She liked to feel the rush of air through her hair, and anyhow it was just too hot, she had argued with the others. The risk was hers, and she was damned with the consequences. She decided to take a detour, curious to see the ship again that had run aground. As she neared the cliff tops, it came into view, listing onto a sandbank with green waves rolling all around its red hull, breaking up onto the deck in a fine, white spray. The red containers that it held had broken free from their moorings and were in danger of toppling into the sea. Today, she could not quite make out its name through the sea spray. When she first encountered the ship, she had driven right down into the cove and had seen The Crow written in large, black, letters across its
bow. Leon and the others had laughed about it so much the night before, finding the name peculiar, to the extent that it just got tiring. However, the number of containers it carried was in plain sight; a few hundred at least. It gave her hope and excitement about the future as things were running low and the mood in the camp was getting tense. For this reason, everyone was sworn to secrecy; this would be theirs and theirs only. She felt the urge to tell her sisters, father, and friends, but she thought there would be plenty to go around eventually. Let’s see what they contain first, everyone had agreed, and maybe we can share our riches later after we have seen to our own. She felt a sense of guilt, though; they were her family and feared their rejection if they would find out what she was keeping from them. It was playing on her mind, but couldn’t find the courage to suggest the obvious; that there was easily more than enough for the two camps. She decided to carry on with her journey, the sound of breaking waves silenced as she kick-started the life into the double V8s of her V-Rod. She pulled back the clutch, stamped her right foot down on the gear shift and opened up the throttle smooth and fast, taking her to a full 60 mph in a matter of a few seconds. The road felt comfortable as the wide tyres and robust suspension of the V-Rod absorbed the rugged surface and cracks. Aveline loved to ride, especially alone; it gave her a sense of independence and freedom, a chance to be by one’s self to think about things. Sometimes it got so tense back at the camp with supplies running low that it was good to cut loose now and again. It was strange, she thought, that everyone was still dependent on the things of the old way. However, these things were now pillaged or stolen, rather than produced and sold. They had got their motorbikes back in the city. They were in a showroom, all clean and shiny, ready to go, right next to the sidewalk. They just went in and took them, the only argument was, who would have what. It was so easy. That was the way, at first, everything was so easy, but now things were running scarce. Food and water, in particular, the essentials. They were wandering from place to place, but so were others and things were getting competitive, to say the least. The situation was breeding bandits; those who roamed the roads, looking for easy pickings, armed to the teeth and ready to kill for any little thing. Aveline knew the dangers of the road so had gun holsters attached to either side of the bike. The holsters were ripped apart at the ends so that the barrels went right through, their ends exposed. Each holster contained a removable, double barrelled shotgun, both armed and ready. One pointed forwards and one pointed towards the rear. Each lay at her inner thighs in the perfect position for her to drop a hand, or both if necessary from the handlebars and put her fingers on the trigger and squeeze. Bang! Alternatively, they could be drawn out and held for a better aim. Depended on the situation, she thought and had imagined several scenarios over and over. She was ready for anything and knew that day would probably come.
The Sands of Borrowed Time Page 1
