“You can feel the wind rising,” Knuckles agreed, licking a finger and holding it in the air.
“We think it’s a sign,” Boxer said.
“A signal from the heavens,” Dash added, glancing upward.
“That our crusade is justified,” Scar said. “That our mission is right and true.”
He took the lead, the others lining up on either side.
“From here the DustRoad turns north.”
“Avoiding the lands that the Mariners stole.”
“But we will not turn aside.”
“We will go west, towards our destiny.”
“Tomorrow we begin to unite this troubled nation.”
“Tomorrow we take back the power and the dignity they stole from us.”
“The right to live our own lives.”
“To make our own laws.”
“To build our own nation in peace and prosperity!”
It didn’t make complete sense, but Kara knew it didn’t have to. The speech was designed simply to fire up the crowd, get them ready for the battle to come. She found herself strangely unmoved – it was such a bare-faced attempt to manipulate the audience that she was able to stand apart from it, unpicking each phrase in her head. The crowd was rapt, but to her it was just a long, rambling lie.
It didn’t help that Dash’s attention kept wandering – at one point he trod on Boxer’s foot, at another he seemed to forget his line entirely, stuttering until Grey picked up the slack. Kara watched, and hope rose in her heart. Dash didn’t just seem distracted, he seemed downright unsure of what he was saying. Almost as if he didn’t believe in it any more.
As the show reached its crescendo the clones strode to the front, the lights from below throwing their identical features into crisp relief. “Of course,” Scar said, gazing out at the convoy. “None of this would be possible without one person.”
“One incredible person,” Boxer nodded.
“Someone who has given everything,” said Grey.
“Everything they own,” Dash added.
“Everything they are,” Knuckles insisted.
“To make this world a better place,” Scar finished.
They looked at one another and nodded theatrically, then they turned and pointed at the audience. “That person is you.”
“You answered the call.”
“You gave, and you gave.”
“You asked for nothing in return.”
“But that’s too bad.” Grey gave a cockeyed grin. “Because we’re going to give it to you anyway.”
There was a screech of tyres and Kara saw three vehicles skidding to a halt in front of the stage. The Wildcats jumped out, grinning at the crowd and high-fiving each other. Strapped to the roofs of their cars Kara could see three motionless shapes – slumped forms almost as large as the cars themselves. Then someone shouted, “Step back!” and a bonfire erupted, flames rising towards the sky. In the flickering light Kara saw glassy eyes and lolling tongues, and realised what the Wildcats had brought – three dead cows strapped to the roofs of their cars.
Leo cut a rope and one of the animals crashed down in the dust. Soldiers came flocking from every direction, wielding axes and cleavers and even swords. There was a chorus of thuds and squelches, and Kara looked away in disgust.
“So we’ve got meat,” The Five said. “And of course we’ve got beer.”
They gestured to a white van, the rear doors flying open to reveal stacks of crates.
“Tonight, we celebrate.”
“Because tomorrow, we fight!”
This time the applause was deafening, the city shaking with the force of it. The soldiers swarmed forward, eager to get into the refreshments. The Five were leaving the stage, retreating down the metal steps at the rear of the truck. Everyone was distracted, even the security guards – Kara saw one of them wading into the mob, snatching a bottle from a smaller man’s hand and downing it.
So she shoved back, forcing through the crowd. No one tried to stop her as she reached the stage truck and slipped underneath, scrambling between the tyres into the enclosure beyond. The wind had picked up and the air was full of blowing sand, but through the murk she could see a pair of figures moving away from her – two of The Five striding towards the train car. But where were the rest?
Hearing voices, she ducked behind a trailer.
“What was that?” one of the clones barked furiously. “What’s happening to you?”
“I’m sorry,” another spluttered, and Kara knew it was Dash. “I’m just tired. Things have been so crazy.”
“It’s that girl,” a third voice sneered. “Don’t deny it.”
Kara peered around the trailer. They were a short distance away, Dash backed against the stage truck with Boxer’s hand around his throat. Scar stood to the side, spittle flying from his lips.
“She’s nothing,” he was saying, raising his voice above the wind. “A treacherous child who has been working against us from the start. Why does she mean so much to you?”
“Because she’s different,” Dash blurted. “She listens to me. Not to The Five, to me.”
Scar shook his head. “That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. You are us. We are you. And you’d better not mess things up tomorrow. This is everything we’ve worked for and I won’t let you—”
“Don’t move,” a voice said. “Stay right where you are.”
Kara saw a figure emerging from the clouds of sand, his ragged coat flapping. She saw a red flicker and a raised pistol. “I mean it,” Redeye ordered, the gun trembling in his hand. “I’ll shoot.” He looked exhausted and desperate, like he knew this wasn’t going to work.
“Who are you?” Scar demanded, turning to face him. “What do you want?”
Redeye adjusted his aim. “You know who I am, clone. And you know what you did to me.”
“Redeye,” Kara said, stepping from her hiding place. “I told you. This isn’t the way.”
The blind man turned instinctively towards her, keeping his pistol trained on Scar. All around them the wind was rising, the sand lashing in strengthening gusts.
“Redeye?” Scar asked in amazement. “The one who planted the bomb? Well, this is an honour.”
“We’ve met before,” Redeye said. “Don’t you remember? You tortured me. You helped those scientists take out my eye.” He gestured to his face and a cold smile lit up Scar’s features.
“Incredible,” he said. “We thought you died in the desert. You were such a weak little thing.”
“I was a child!” Redeye screamed, his hands shaking. “I was in pain and you laughed at me. I gave you something to remember me, though, didn’t I? And now I’m going to finish what I started.”
He stepped forward, his finger on the trigger. Without thinking, Kara sprang.
She crossed the space between them in two strides, hearing the gun go off as she slammed into Redeye’s side. She heard a cry of pain then they hit the ground together, rolling and tumbling. She grabbed Redeye’s arm and slammed it into the ground, forcing him to let go of the gun. Boxer stepped forward, kicking it away.
Behind him Scar stood clutching his face, blood leaking between his fingers. He removed his hand and Kara saw a deep groove in the skin just above his ear. Dash stood behind him, looking in astonishment at a bullet hole in the truck tyre, air whistling through it.
Kara climbed to her feet but Redeye stayed where he was, prone on the dusty tarmac. “Why did you do that?” he demanded in disbelief. “It was our chance!”
“You know me,” Kara said. “I don’t like killing.”
“But we’re on the same side this time,” Redeye protested. “Neptune’s beard, you’re impossible.”
Kara helped him up. “If it makes you feel any better, you’ve definitely given him another scar.”
Footsteps sounded as Grey and Knuckles came running from the gloom. “What happened?” Grey demanded. “We heard a shot.”
“He happened,” Scar said, gesturing
at Redeye.
“He wanted to kill us,” Boxer added.
“But Kara stepped in,” Dash said, looking at her proudly.
Boxer took hold of Redeye, yanking his arms behind his back. Scar strode forward but Kara stepped between them. “Don’t hurt him,” she said.
Scar sneered through the blood on his face. “Give me one reason why not.”
“Because I’m asking you,” Kara replied.
Grey crossed his arms, looking searchingly at her. “Why did you stop him?” he asked. “With one of us dead we’d have had to call off the attack. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Not like this,” Kara said. “In fact, I came here to try and reason with you. Or at least with Dash.”
Grey frowned. “Dash? Who is Dash?”
Kara flushed. “He is,” she said, pointing at his brother. “We, um … we gave you all names. Joe and Nate and me. It’s because of his birthmark, you know, dot dash.”
Dash stared at her in astonishment, then he smiled. “Dash. I like it.”
“And what did you call me?” Knuckles asked. “Devilishly Handsome?”
Boxer barked a laugh, but Grey shook his head. “We do not need names, Kara. We’re The Five. We are one.”
“But you’re not,” she insisted. “You act like it, but deep down you’re all a little bit different. Dash saved me, doesn’t that prove it?”
“Minor variations,” Grey said. “Tiny differences in character, no more important than the colour of my hair or the mark on my brother’s wrist.”
To her surprise, Kara could see uncertainty in his eyes. This whole idea worries him, she realised. The thought that they could be in any way different.
“So you came to reason with us,” Dash put in. “With me. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say that you don’t have to do this,” Kara told him. “That very first night you said you weren’t evil – now here’s your chance to prove it. I know the Mariners haven’t done enough to help people out here, but attacking them isn’t the answer. It’ll only make things worse.”
Scar snorted but Grey regarded Kara, eyes shining in the gloom. “So what is the answer, in your opinion?”
“Talk to them,” Kara said. “Tell the Mariners why you’re angry. If you’re reasonable they will be too, I know it. They’re not who you think they are. Most of them, anyway.”
“It’s been tried before,” Knuckles said. “Trade deals and treaties. The Mariners wouldn’t listen.”
“And who was doing the talking?” Kara asked. “Some war chief? Some state sheriff trying to get an advantage over his rivals? Things are different now – the states are united. They can’t ignore that.”
“But this army was raised for a single purpose,” Scar argued. “To destroy the Mariners. That’s what brought these people together.”
“No, you did,” Kara said. “Those soldiers worship you. If you tell them the plan’s changed, they’ll go along with it.”
“We’ve never run from a fight before,” Boxer growled. “And we’re not going to start now.”
“You shouldn’t,” Redeye smirked. “I’ll enjoy watching my people thrash you.”
“We’ve always done what we had to do,” Dash said, ignoring him. “We were tough when we needed to be. But Kara’s right, we’re not evil. It’s always been about survival and doing what we can for the people out here. If there’s a better way, why not take it?”
Knuckles nodded thoughtfully, but Scar just sneered. “Brothers, be serious. Why did we come all this way if we’re just going to act like cowards?”
“Negotiation isn’t cowardice,” Dash insisted. “It’s just being practical.”
“Listen,” Grey said, turning on them. “Kara might have a point. If we can achieve our aims without sacrificing lives, it could be worth attempting. We have no guarantee we’ll even win this fight – yes, we have a few tricks up our sleeve, but so might they.”
Scar’s eyes flashed. “So you just expect us to—”
“However,” Grey said firmly. “You are also correct. We risk making ourselves look weak, and there’s no sense trying to negotiate anything from a position of weakness. The Mariners don’t know us. They probably think we’re just a band of desert raiders come to plunder their storehouses. We’ve given them no reason to think otherwise.”
“So what are you saying?” Kara asked. “You want to send a message? I could talk to them and—”
“That won’t be enough,” Grey told her. “I’m sorry, but they need to know how strong we are, and what we’re willing to do. The attack must proceed as planned – we’ve come too far to stop now.”
Scar smiled smugly as Kara started to protest.
“But here’s what I suggest,” Grey said, holding up a hand. “Tomorrow we’ll smash through their border, and we’ll rip down their fence. We’ll advance into their territory and we won’t stop until we reach Frisco. But when we do, I say we give Kara her chance. Once they’ve seen what we’re capable of, once they’re suitably impressed, then we’ll negotiate.”
“But people will still die,” Kara said. “You won’t cross the border without a fight.”
“A fight is inevitable,” Grey told her, almost sympathetically. “It always was. Just as your people needed to band together against John Cortez, so ours need to unite against Frisco. But at least this way we can keep things from escalating further.”
Kara eyed him doubtfully. “You have to promise me you’ll talk. Promise that whatever happens, however bad the fighting gets, when you reach the city you’ll negotiate.”
“I promise,” Grey nodded.
“So do I,” Dash replied.
“And me,” Knuckles added.
Boxer turned doubtfully towards Scar, who was still shaking his head. “They won’t listen,” he said. “They’ll take advantage of any ceasefire to smash us to pieces.”
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Grey told him. “Because I’m afraid you’re outvoted.”
“But how will we contact them?” Knuckles asked. “Once we’re in range we can send a radio signal, but how will they know what frequency we’re on, or that we’re broadcasting at all?”
“Someone needs to tell them we’ll be calling,” Kara said. “And I know just who to send.”
16
The Battle of Badwater
By the time Joe reached the Mariner outpost, the dawn was breaking and the sandstorm had begun to abate. Through the windscreen he could see the sky growing pale as gusts battered the little jeep.
After some debate, the junkman’s escort had allowed him to pass under the border fence – Lenny wasn’t allowed to come with him, but she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. “For better or worse, this junkpile is my home,” she’d said. “Maybe one day you’ll come back and visit.”
“I’ll bring my friends,” Joe had promised her. “And we’ll all make one of your pictures.”
The security guard was called Mary Black Crow, which Joe thought was probably the coolest name ever. She’d sat him down while the junkman finished his work, listening with mounting amazement as Joe told his story. He wasn’t sure how much of it she’d believed, but she’d agreed to take him to meet her commanding officer, fifty miles north at a place called Camp Badwater.
Now Joe could see lights shimmering ahead through clouds of dust, the remnants of the sandstorm that had swept through overnight. Black Crow showed her credentials to a uniformed officer and he waved them towards the camp, a cluster of concrete buildings at the foot of a rocky desert slope.
“This place is pretty small,” Joe said as they stepped from the jeep, the wind snatching at their clothes. “How many men do they have?”
“An entire division,” Black Crow said. “That’s more than two hundred soldiers.”
Joe gulped. “It won’t be enough.”
They headed for the compound but before they could reach it, an iron door swung open and a ruddy-faced man strode out. He returne
d Black Crow’s salute, peering at her over a bristly black moustache. “I hear you drove all night to see me,” he barked. “Well, come on, private, what’s the ruckus?”
Black Crow ushered Joe forward. “General Jardine, I found this boy in the junkyard near Salvation Point. He’s got a story to tell you.”
The General smiled indulgently, medals winking on his chest. “Does he now? Well, speak up lad.”
Joe told his tale as briefly as he could, trying to explain about the clones and their army without making the whole thing sound ridiculous. When the General whipped off his cap and laughed, he knew he’d failed.
“You’ve had quite a journey,” Jardine chuckled. “And this Five sound like a real bad bunch. But look around, this camp is heavily fortified. We deal with raider bands all the time.”
Joe looked down towards the border fence, rising in the dawn light. It was much taller here, forming a defensive barricade around the outpost. It was studded with lookout towers too, all mounted with rotating energy cannons.
“But they’re not just raiders,” he insisted. “There’s, like, thousands of them. And they have guns and massive trucks.”
“But trucks are no good here,” the General said, pointing past the fence to the flatlands beyond. The air was still thick with dust but through it Joe could see that the ground was a pale whitish colour, like the salt left behind after the tide goes out.
“D’you know what they call this place?” Jardine asked. “Its name is Death Valley, and even back in the Tech Age it was the hottest place on earth. Nowadays you can’t even stand out there in full daylight without an aircon suit. If those trucks try to cross, their engines will overheat, their tyres will burst, their drivers will pass out from heatstroke. The battle will be won before it even starts.”
Joe studied the Mariner defences and tried to be convinced. It didn’t feel especially hot to him, but of course the sun had only just risen. Which sparked a thought.
“Hang on,” he said. “What would happen if they crossed this death place at n—”
“Sir!”
The General turned as an officer came running towards them up the slope, his face red with exertion. He saluted, trying to catch his breath. “We’ve lost contact with two of our scouts,” he reported. “They were on patrol in the valley and scheduled to check in a half-hour ago. We thought it might be the sandstorm kicking up interference but it’s almost over now and still no word.”
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