by ID Johnson
Rain took all of that in, wondering how Mist knew so much. “Do you think anyone lives here?” she asked, gesturing at the ruins with the top of her head.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Mist said, still staring at the skeleton of a city in the distance. “My understanding is that the Mothers still raid here, still drop bombs regularly, that they want to ensure no one from Oklasaw or the other territories from the north dare to try to claim it.”
“Is there anything worth claiming?” Adam asked. His arm brushed Rain’s, drawing her toward him like a magnet. She swayed slightly but recovered with a tug on Mist’s shoulder.
Her friend raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask if she were all right. “It’s hard to say,” Mist said in response to Adam’s question. “The city was one of the first to be bombed during the war. The citizens had little warning or time to prepare. There’s the possibility valuables remain in the rubble. It was a huge city, after all. After shale drilling in the early twenty-first century caused some intense earthquake activity, some people left the area, but millions of people lived here when the town was initially bombed. If I was a scavenger from Oklasaw or the no-man’s land to the east, I’d be tempted to come and see what I could find.”
“What could be of value now?” Walt wanted to know. “It’s not as if there could be food or water that lasted that long.”
“Precious gems, gold, other metals. Things like that will pass the test of time. They could have tech that could become operational with some work, but honestly, if everything I’ve heard about the way Texas was before the Third World War began was true, I know what I’d be looking for.” An eerie look came over Mist’s face as she paused and the other three gawked at her, asking their silent questions. “Weapons.”
Confused, Rain looked at the other two and then back at Mist. “Weapons? For what?”
“To fight the Mothers,” Mist replied as if it was obvious.
“But why would they want to fight the Mothers? It’s not as if the enslavement of men in a country hundreds of miles to the south would have a huge impact on people scavenging for whatever they can find to stay alive,” Walt reasoned.
“No, it’s not the men they’re after. It’s something else, and while none of us were exactly sure what it might be, I think it has more to do with fossil fuels than the rest of the world is willing to admit.”
“Wait--what?” Adam asked, turning so that he was facing Mist. “Are you saying the other nations of the world might care more about fuel than the atrocities happening to men? That their true interest in defeating Michaelanburg might have nothing to do with our suffering at all?”
Mist blew out a hot breath. “I’m sorry, Adam, but that’s generally how the world works. Other nations have never been keen on risking the lives of their people and billions of dollars to fight wars to better humanity. At the end of the day, they’re more concerned with getting what they want, what they think they need, and since the alternative fuels created before and after the war have not proven abundant enough to replace fossil fuels, which, I’ll remind you, is what the war was over to begin with, the fact that Michaelanburg is sitting on top of potentially untapped oil fields and formerly fuel rich lands makes it a nation of interest to other powers in the world.”
Rain’s mouth was hanging open of its own accord by the time Mist finished speaking. “So… you don’t honestly think we can convince anyone in Quebec to help us change things in Michaelanburg for the sake of the men and human rights. But you think we can convince them to fight Michaelanburg if they know there’s something of value there?”
“I think it’s the potential oil that will be the deciding factor, though the story about freeing the men and opening the eyes of womankind is the perfect cover story,” Mist admitted.
The world around her blurred slightly as Rain attempted to readjust her thinking once more. This rebellion wasn’t even what she thought it was. Not that her own purpose had changed. Still, how did she feel about using an energy source as a potential reason for another country to move in and overthrow her homeland?
The others were still talking, and it wasn’t until Adam took her hand and pulled her forward that Rain realized they were walking. She moved along behind Mist, assuming they’d keep walking until they reached the city, or were close enough to inspect some of the smaller structures. She could see them now. Crumbling houses and businesses stood in what might’ve once been rows jutting out from the bases of the taller buildings.
Adam didn’t let go of her hand. Whether he could tell she was exhausted and needed his coaxing or saw the fear welling up behind her eyes, it didn’t matter. His fingers wrapped around hers were a comfort and the only thing that kept her moving out of the cover of the trees into the open. If there were scavengers here now, their party of four would make a great target as they made their way through high grass, sparse trees, the same sort of tangled vines that had claimed the tall buildings, and uneven ground that eventually turned from mostly grass and rocks to chunks of asphalt. Roads. Broken and twisted, covered with flora, they were nothing like what they would’ve been hundreds of years ago when cars zoomed from one side of the city to the other, but Rain’s boots were definitely walking on a road. Where it might lead her, she didn’t know, but there was no question in her mind she wasn’t letting go of Adam’s hand.
Chapter Forty-Two
The buildings were taller than Rain had realized. It seemed like each step she took forward got her no closer to them. By the time they reached a mostly clear piece of concrete sticking out of the ground and forming a broken trail with its brethren of broken bits and pieces that seemed to lead directly to the closest building, which was still a thousand miles away in Rain’s mind, lifting her boots was a negotiation with each step. If the Mothers showed up right now, Rain was as good as dead.
Not to mention the fact that she felt as if she were being watched. The closer they got to the remains of the city, the stronger the sensation that eyes were tracing their every move grew.
It was Walt who finally said something. His eyes lifted toward the closest buildings, he asked, “Is someone watching us?”
“Sure seems that way,” Mist replied. “But, they haven’t shot at us yet, so that’s something.”
“They probably wonder who the hell we are. You two aren’t dressed like Military Mothers anymore. Surely, that’s about all they see out here, wouldn’t you think?” Adam shifted his grip slightly on her hand, and Rain’s immediate reaction was to tighten her fingers.
Mist slowed slightly as she took her eyes off of the broken road to look up at the nearest building. It was still at least a quarter of a mile away, Rain estimated, but the details of the monstrosity were becoming clearer now. No longer the shiny architectural wonder it must’ve been a couple of hundred years ago, it was a decaying relic, its war wounds more visible as they neared, though the true enemy that would claim it in the end was clearly the plant life that covered it well past the fifth floor, growing up its western side, splintering out like fingers that would eventually grasp the rooftop and bring the entire building down.
Something stirred in one of the windows about halfway up. Rain was certain she saw movement there, on what might’ve been around the twentieth floor. She continued to walk, not adding to the conversation, and not pointing out what she’d seen either. Perhaps these buildings were full of the ghosts of the men who’d died in the war, or those who’d been obliterated during the women’s uprising.
“Did you see that?” Walt asked, starting to lift his hand to point but then dropping it. “In that building over there, I swear I saw someone standing in front of a window for a moment. Then, they were gone.”
“I see them, too,” Mist replied, her voice cautious. “Lightning thought there might be people living here, but she didn’t know for sure. The military records on what happens in no-man’s land are locked up tight. Only highly authorized eyes can see them, and their digital records are kept on the server in the capital.”
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br /> “So we might be walking into a city full of people who want to kill us just as desperately as the army of lunatics coming at us from behind?” Adam clarified.
“I don’t think so,” Mist said, still not as concerned as Rain thought she should be. “I think they would’ve hurt us already if they wanted to.”
“You think they have guns that can reach us at this distance?” Walt’s eyes were saucers as he stared at Mist. Taking his eyes off of the path proved to be a bad decision as he stumbled. If Mist hadn’t been so quick to reach out a hand to steady him, he would’ve fallen face first on the asphalt, possibly caught a small shrub on his way down.
The incident was enough of a distraction that Rain didn’t hear the familiar sound that had been haunting her for the last several days until it was far closer than she ever wanted it to be. She turned, her eyes to the sky. A small dot above the trees they’d vacated a few moments ago confirmed her suspicions. “Drone!” she shrieked, whirling around to see how fast it was coming, her mind racing as she tried to determine where in the world they could hide. Though any of the buildings would’ve been a safe place to take refuge as the electronic bird flew overhead, they were too far away from any of them to shelter there in time. Her eyes scanned the area around them. One small tree and a thousand bushes were their only options. That would never work, and the whirring was growing closer.
Rain looked to Mist for direction, her mouth hanging open with the unasked question--where do we go?
For the first time since they’d left Gretchintown, Mist had fear behind her eyes. The blank expression on her face coupled with her inability to move startled Rain. If Mist wasn’t going to tell them what to do, who would?
It became a moot point when a sharp bang rang out, jarring the four of them. Rain’s heart leapt into her throat as she automatically ducked her head, and Adam pulled her to his chest, wrapping himself around her. Had the scavengers decided to start shooting at them at the same time that the drone had arrived? Or had the shot come from the Mothers? Were they close enough behind now that they were in firing range?
Only one shot met her ear. Rain raised her eyes above Adam’s shoulder, looking back toward the buildings. It didn’t make sense for their assailants to only fire once, no matter who they were.
“Holy shit!” Adam whispered and then gave a soft chuckle. Rain turned her head again, resting her head beneath his chin so she could see what he was looking at. Tiny fragments of metal rained down from a cloud of smoke, electric sparks still dancing in the area Rain assumed the drone had been when it had met its demise.
She turned to look at him as his face came toward hers. He was so close to her now, it might’ve been distracting if the fear coursing through her veins wasn’t screaming at her that she was about to end up like that drone. “What happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It just exploded.”
“It’s a forcefield!” Mist said, pointing up at the area where the smoke was dissipating. “Look! See that tower way over there?” Mist shifted her finger to the west, and the rest of them followed with their eyes. “There’s another one miles down there in that direction.”
Rain looked far to the east where Mist was now pointing. On either side of the city, two enormous metal structures stood guard, an electric grid of power keeping the Motherhood’s eyes out of this space.
The structures themselves reminded Rain of some of the junked out transporters and other scrap she and Mist had once stumbled upon during one of their explorations of the woods. These towers had been assembled from scraps of other giants, that was certain. Patched and discolored, no two sections exactly the same, they were a mismatched set of protectors pieced together from the crumpled city they now guarded. Rain turned back to the city, wondering how many of these buildings had sacrificed a section of their soul to contribute to the cause.
“How did they do that?” Walt’s question didn’t seem to be directed to anyone in particular, but Rain assumed Mist would answer it.
“I don’t know,” was all the other girl said, that unsettled look still visible in the way she swallowed. She was shook now, Rain could tell. The information she’d been given, the facts and figures she’d been doling out only when necessary, weren’t holding true, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
“They couldn’t have put them up to help us,” Adam said, still gazing from one tower to the other. “But they came in handy.”
“No, I think they’re an indicator that the Motherhood has more secrets than I realized,” Mist admitted. “I’m not sure the space that barrier covers, but I guarantee the Mothers will figure out a way around it. We walked through it, after all. So, they must be able to, too.”
“Maybe it only keeps away the birds,” Walt offered, meaning the drones.
“Maybe we’ll find out when they get here,” Mist replied, turning back around.
“Who? The Mothers?” Rain asked, wondering if that meant Mist thought they were close by.
“No. Them.” She didn’t point with her finger this time, only indicated where they should look with a tip of her head.
Rain took a step back, grasping at Adam again, wishing she could hold the stoic stance of her friend Mist, but as the group of strangers approached them, mostly men, dressed in unfamiliar clothes, their hair long and braided, she couldn’t help but want to run right back to Michaelanburg.
Chapter Forty-Three
Six men and four women of various ages came to a stop about twenty feet in front of Rain and her friends. They were all armed with various weapons. Rain recognized the rifles and handguns, of course, but one of them was carrying what looked like a long spear, its metal tip not only screwed into the top, but a long cord wound around it as well. Another had what might’ve been a bow and arrow of some sort. A bent piece of plastic arched across her back, but there was no string, and the quiver held several pieces of metal that appeared to be blunt on the end. One was carrying a long black stick that looked more like the handle to a sword than anything else. Perhaps it was a baton to beat a person to death with. She didn’t want to find out what it was. She didn’t want to find out what any of the weapons were.
Two men stood in the middle of the group. The one on the left, the tallest, with long, black braided hair that surrounded his shoulders, seemed to be the leader. Around his neck hung a necklace with many different trinkets--pieces of glass, what appeared to be a tooth, a bullet casing. His eyes were narrowed, his face firm, though not unpleasant. Rain guessed he was probably in his thirties, though she couldn’t be sure. She’d never seen a man that old before. The ones in Michaelanburg didn’t live that long.
The other man had the sort of smirk on his face that let Rain know he was trouble. A jagged scar ran from the crease of his nose down to his chin. His hair was tied up on the top of his head. Smears of dirt and grime covered him, and he seemed to relish the proof that he’d been busy. All of them wore the same sort of clothing--baggy shirts and pants with belts to hold them in place. The colors most of them wore were muted, though one of the women, a younger one, maybe Rain’s age, had on a faded orange top. She was pretty, with wide eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. The other three women were much older, and they reminded Rain of Mothers with their direct stares. She swallowed hard, waiting for something to happen. If they wanted to kill them, wouldn’t they have done it by now? Unless they preferred torture.
The man who appeared to be the leader held one hand straight up in the air. Rain didn’t know what that meant, but the others looked at him with reverence. She did, too. Where else could she possibly look? When he spoke, his voice was deep and his tone was no-nonsense. Miraculously, the language was the same as they spoke in Michaelanburg, though he had an accent that made it a bit difficult to understand some of his words.
“Who are you? And what are you doing in Dafo?”
Mist didn’t waver with her response. “Greetings,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “We are refugees fr
om Gretchintown in Michaelanburg. My friend Rain and I have helped these two men escape the Mothers. All we would like is safe passage through your territory to Oklasaw. We are on our way to the Nation of Quebec, and freedom for these men.”
The group began to whisper amongst themselves, several jaws dropping open, a few of them shaking their heads in disbelief. “Enough!” the leader declared, and with the word, the talking stopped. “You say you’ve escaped the Motherhood? How is this possible?”
“Yes,” Mist assured him. “It was quite difficult. There has been a rebellion. Hundreds of women worked together to free the men being held in one of the facilities. We split up and ran from the Mothers, but their military is hunting us. The more quickly we can pass through your lands, the better.”
“And bring the Mothers along behind you?” the man with the scar snarled, his beady eyes focused on Mist’s face as he fingered a long knife that protruded from a holster at his waist.
The leader made a jester with his arm in his companion’s direction. The shifty man closed his thin lips over a set of teeth that reminded Rain of the stains that formed around the edges of the toilet bowl in the common bathroom between cleanings. He was dangerous; she could feel the hate and impulsivity rolling off of him in waves.
“I’m afraid the Mothers may reach your area as well,” Mist said, shaking her head. “But I assure you, their quarrel is with us. They’ve been in pursuit of us for days now, and I doubt they will become distracted by your existence, particularly if you stay out of their way.”