Daugher of Ash

by Matthew S. Cox

  Someone needed to die screaming.

  Kate crawled to the end of the pipe, squinting at the sunbaked mud outside. She turned on her holo-projector, selecting the same camo outfit she used for the convoy run. The intangible holographic pane made her frown; the bracelet had only a few days’ of battery power left. If not for the sound of activity nearby, she would have left it off.

  Beneath a dried crust, the river of sediment held moisture. Mud sizzled and popped from her feet as she stepped away from the tiny artificial creek bed, leaving a trail of steaming prints.

  Days of walking had turned trees and vegetation to rolling plains dotted by clusters of growth and the occasional destroyed structure. The road surface sat on top of several feet of gravel and dirt, enough to hide behind and watch.

  Sure enough, the sound came from a four-wheeled metal buggy. It had stopped about forty yards away from the culvert, parked by a red-walled building at the side of the road. Kate shuffled forward, running as fast as possible while ducking. One man in armor made of leather and metal scraps stepped down from a platform at the rear of the cart, between the two large drive wheels. Two axes crossed on his back; brass-capped red cylinders studded his belt, among several empty loops. He slid a long rifle with a thick barrel and wood stock from an animal hide sheath on the back of the cart and hung it over one shoulder.

  Kate moved to a position in line with the buggy and crouched behind the berm. Weeds smoldered around her, but a haze of grass along the edge of the paving blocked her face from view. A woman with wild, black hair down to her waist sat in a pod bolted to the left side, perched behind a large belt-fed machine gun. She remained still and silent as the driver grabbed the roll cage above his head and hauled himself out the opposite way.

  The driver’s animal hide armor creaked as he moved, metal plates rattling about his legs. He had several knives and two pistols, and a crowbar slung across his back like a medieval warrior’s sword.

  A burst of wind lofted the gunner’s hair to the right, exposing an inch-tall steel collar around her neck.

  Gravel shifted under Kate’s hands as she tensed. A quick glance left and right along the road at miles of nothing reminded her that in the Badlands, the only law was strength.

  “Hep, dern it!” The more distant of the two men skidded to a halt. “Ya fergot ta put the gun on safe.”

  The driver howled in annoyance and stomped back to the buggy. He bent over the side, pulling up on a lever mounted to the floor. A chain rode over a pulley in the roll cage, drawing the woman’s shackled hands up over her head―away from the machine gun. The prisoner remained passive until both men vanished inside the windowless building. Once they could no longer see her, she struggled.

  Kate got up and sprinted across the four-lane road to a halt by the huge rear tire. The woman in the side pod squirmed around to look. She appeared about Kate’s age, if not a year or two younger. Dead bugs, some the size of exploded grapes, dotted her bare chest. Dark sienna skin glistened with sweat running in trails. Her ill-maintained skirt looked stitched together from scraps of a dozen t-shirts. A length of chain padlocked to either side of an uncomfortable looking metal chair served as a seatbelt, tight enough to leave marks across her stomach. Heavy irons hobbled her legs, rattling over the thin sheet metal pod as she cringed. The woman seemed as angry as she did frightened, fixing Kate with a measuring stare.

  What is wrong with these people? Kate examined the rusted Master lock holding the prewar handcuffs to the ‘safety.’

  The woman froze like a deer in traffic. “No tiene armas. Volverán pronto. Corre antes de que te atrapen.”

  “Whoa. Too fast,” muttered Kate in novice’s Spanish. “Do you know any English?”

  “Yes.” The woman looked away, staring at the building. “They will take you if they see you. Your looks are rare. You have no guns, and they will return soon.”

  “I hope they come outside right now.” Kate frowned at the welded leg irons. “You got a name?”

  “I used to, before this.” The woman looked down, whispering, “Alejandra.”

  “Okay.” Kate ceased leaning on the pod and patted it. “Wait here, Alejandra.”

  “Where would I go?” Alejandra wriggled in place. “Hey, stop. Don’t be stupid. You should run.”

  Kate paid little attention to the warnings streaming out of the woman’s mouth and approached the door. The scent of food wafted on the air near the opening, mixed with tobacco and age. Smoke seeped between her fingers from the wooden door handle as she pulled it aside to expose a dim interior with a short hallway leading to a right angle turn to a larger room. Three men loitered at the corner. The looks they flashed at the sight of charred footprints made her want to smile, but she wore a threatening glare as she passed.

  A little concentration prevented the floor at her feet from bursting into flames as she paused at the entrance to the barroom. Old tables and chairs, in various states of collapse, had been set up around the place. Few matched, as though the owner scavenged them from a dozen different businesses. Kate stared at the tall, silver-haired man behind the bar. His moustache was so thick it resembled a dead rat hanging from his face. Hard blue eyes squinted back; like her, he seemed not to belong to this place.

  Everyone in the room, a few women among them, wore the trappings of life in the Badlands. Armor cobbled together from whatever they could find, weapons anywhere they could hang them, and expressions that said they’d kill as easily as talk. At that moment, Kate realized how much like an unarmed, helpless tourist she looked.

  Everyone, even the women, looked at her as if trying to weigh how best to take advantage of her.

  The men from the buggy sat at the bar, about to attack a plate of food each. No one seemed the least bit concerned at the presence of a pair of raiders.

  Remind me to thank those lab rats for making me look like a fashion model. She sighed. ‘Just pretty enough’ would have been better for infiltration. I stand out. Horny bastards.

  Without saying a word, Kate flipped both arms forward, palms raised. A collective gasp swept over the crowd as a head-sized blue fireball formed above each hand. The desire to kill came easy, riding the wings of an alien rage that swelled in from nowhere. She puffed air, as if blowing out the candles of a birthday cake. The gesture had little to do with her mental control of flames, though it looked as if the burning spheres responded, flying into the backs of the buggy crew.

  Leather ashed over on contact; intense heat melted skin and muscle in seconds. Toneless fluttering replaced screaming as their chests ruptured. Kate poured psionic energy into the sense of the burn, adding to the fire and forcing it to invade their lungs until both men belched like dragons, spewing flames from the mouth and nose.

  They hit the ground, dead and convulsing, smoke drifting from charred holes that used to be mouths. She drew the remnants of flame into the air, creating a carpet of fire along the ceiling that she pulled around behind herself into a curtain.

  “I will say this only once. If one of you knuckle-dragging genetic throwbacks even looks at me sideways, this entire building and everyone in it will be ash.”

  Kate stared at the people for two seconds before she stopped concentrating; her display of power dissipated with a loud whoof of air. She approached the dead men and squatted nearby. Pouches and pockets burned away as she searched their things, careful to avoid putting her fingers anywhere near prewar bullets. She lost a few seconds examining the brass casings out of curiosity. Several minutes passed in tense silence. Everyone watched her, but no surface thoughts gave away anything more than fear, curiosity, and awe.

  At last, she found keys and stood. “These two better be as they are when I return.”

  No one moved. Kate went outside, back to the buggy. Alejandra had worked up a sweat trying to defeat the mechanism keeping her hands away from the machine gun. When the door swung open, she froze as if caught stealing. Kate smiled at her, approaching with keys dangling from two fingers.

&nb
sp; “Alejandra, listen carefully.” Kate leaned over her. “I’m going to put the key in the cuffs. Don’t touch it right away, it will burn you.”

  The woman gave her a quizzical look, but nodded.

  Kate held it up; the key glowed red-hot.

  “My god…” whispered Alejandro. “What are you?”

  “Pissed off.” Kate stuck the key in.

  Alejandra tried to pull away from the searing hand so close to hers. Kate focused on the key, using her command of heat to chill it.

  Kate took a step back. “It’s safe now.”

  “What about the―”

  “They’re both dead.” She scratched at her head. “If it makes you feel better, it hurt a lot.”

  The woman freed her hands and cycled through the keys until she found one that opened the ‘seatbelt.’ Another key worked on the padlock at her throat and she threw the collar as hard as she could hurl it. Kate went back inside, approached the bar, and helped herself to one of the untouched meals. The breaded slab didn’t resemble anything she’d ever seen before. It had enough flavor that she caught a hint of taste despite her inhaling it fast enough to prevent a mouthful of cinders.

  “This didn’t used to be a person, did it?”

  The man behind the counter shook his head.

  “Good enough.” She didn’t care much what animal it came from.

  Outdoor light flooded the foyer; making the three men loitering there squint again. For an instant, they seemed eager. After a glance at Kate, they begrudgingly moved to a table. Accompanied by the sound of a dragging chain, Alejandra shuffled into view, rubbing her wrists. She followed the trail of charred footprints to her former captors’ bodies.

  “No key for those?”

  Alejandra frowned at the leg irons. “They are welded on.”

  “You should take enough to protect yourself,” said Kate, fanning her mouth from the heat. “What is this?”

  “Chile relleno,” said the almost seven-foot man behind the bar. His gaze drifted from Kate to Alejandra as she searched the corpses.

  “I like it. Meat with actual flavor.” She pulled the second plate over and started on it.

  “It’s not meat,” muttered the man. “Got roast Squealer if you want meat.”

  Alejandra gathered coins from one of the dead men. “How much for a plate?”

  “Four,” replied the man.

  She put four coins on the bar, two copper, two silver. The rest remained in the pouch she tied to her skirt. Kate eyed the prewar money, shaking her head at the inconvenience of currency that couldn’t be traded at the wave of a NetMini.

  Alejandra grabbed the belt of shells and put it on, and slung the shotgun over her back. She spent a moment pouting at the incinerated armor before taking a seat on one of the stools. Kate finished her second helping, almost feeling satisfied. The battery meter on her bracelet shrank to a worrisome point. Whatever that old man is, if he can fix me, he should have done it right away. Guess he doesn’t trust me to kill that creature without holding it over my head.

  “What?” asked Kate, noting Alejandra’s piercing stare. Surface thoughts gave away jealousy. The woman wanted Kate’s baggy camouflage shirt. “Oh. Sorry. I can’t give you my shirt.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful that you freed me.” Alejandra looked away.

  I physically can’t, said Kate, telepathically. Remember how hot the key was? My clothes aren’t real. They’re a hologram.

  “What is hologram?” asked Alejandra.

  “Later,” muttered Kate. She glanced up at the bartender. “You trade?”

  “Yep.” The man nodded.

  “Got any shirts?”

  “Yep.”

  Kate stooped to grab four knives from the dead raiders, which she put on the bar. “This enough of a trade for one?”

  “Aye.” The tall man slid a plate in front of Alejandra.

  He gathered the knives, carrying them into a back room. A moment later, he returned with a blue-grey flannel shirt and offered it to Kate. She pointed at Alejandra. The woman took a break from eating to put it on. Kate tapped her foot, staring at the shackles. I’d hurt her more than the metal. Fuck it; not my problem. She frowned again at her battery meter, finished the last of her second plate, and walked across the room to the exit. She left a burned handprint as she stiff-armed the door open and stormed back onto the highway.

  Kate made it about twenty yards down the road before a voice broke the silence.

  “Wait.” When she didn’t stop, Alejandra yelled again. “Please, wait! Why are you walking?”

  I helped you escape; I don’t want to adopt you.

  “Hey, wait!”

  The sound of Alejandra’s attempt to run turning into a pratfall made her look back. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Why are you walking away?” Alejandra recovered the shotgun and stood.

  “I have to go west.” Kate resumed walking. “I don’t have time.”

  “Take the cart.”

  Rage formed wisps of flame around Kate’s hands. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Alejandra’s yelling drew closer, underlined by the melodic ringing of chain on pavement.

  Kate whirled. “Because, I destroy everything I fucking touch…” She fumed, her voice fading to a half-whisper. “And… I don’t know how to drive.”

  Alejandra caught up, out of breath from the ungainly shuffle. “I can show you. I can’t get in there with the chain.”

  “Shotgun it.”

  The woman shivered. “I’m afraid of hurting myself. Small wounds can kill… long, painful death. Look, I show you how to drive. We go together?”

  Kate held her hand over her eyes, squinting to the west. At most, the bracelet would last a few more days before needing a recharge she had no way to obtain out here. The buggy looked like a deathtrap; memories of the convoy run haunted her with a fast, grisly end. Her seven-hundred-degree ass inches away from a plastic bottle full of ethanol seemed like a bad idea. Still, she didn’t exactly plan on attacking a cargo hauler, and raiders would probably leave a buggy alone.

  A few people from the bar had emerged, checking the vehicle out.

  “You know,” said Kate. “Most people would use something metal to hold fuel.”

  “It was what they found. They all this”―Alejandra grabbed her crotch―“and none of this.” She tapped her head.

  Kate summoned a fist-sized orb of flames. “All right, fine.”

  She hurled a fireball over the heads of the crowd, clearing the potential thieves away from the raider cart as she jogged up along the right side. Alejandra made her way to the side pod without hesitation. Kate stopped to watch the woman climbing back into a metal enclosure that used to be her prison.

  Guess seeing them die made her feel better.

  The driver’s compartment consisted of a flat slab of metal for a seat and a small steering wheel made out of a bent piece of rebar. The shape of the frame forced the driver’s legs down two separate channels, each with a pedal at the bottom. Kate got in, drawing a sharp breath at the brief touch of cold metal on her skin. Rubber pads on the pedals melted and oozed through her toes in seconds. At her size, she barely saw over the shroud enclosing the steering wheel. The buggy sat so low to the ground she felt like her ass would be scraping pavement. All the metal around her should have seemed like armor, but it had the opposite effect, making her feel trapped and vulnerable. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about being stuck inside tumbling, twisted wreckage.

  The buggy rocked as Alejandra grabbed the frame and hauled her legs over the side of the gunner pod. She unlocked the rest of the ‘seatbelt’ and threw the chain and locks overboard. After a dire look at the dangling cuffs, she leaned as close as she dared to Kate.

  “Right foot is fast. Left foot is stop. Don’t push both at the same time.” She pointed at a small stick with a squeeze lever reminiscent of a motorcycle brake. “That is shifter. Squeeze first to open clutch.”

  A rud
imentary explanation of how to drive an ancient, manual transmission followed. Somewhere between ‘oh screw it’ and confidence later, she squeezed the clutch flange. Everything in the buggy was metal, except for the starter button, the tires, and the plastic bottle full of ethanol. Alejandra leaned over and pushed it; the engine behind them roared to deafening life.

  “As far right as it goes, then back into the corner to reverse.”

  Kate did as instructed, easing off the handle grip until grinding noises rang out and it stalled.

  “Need to give it gas.” Alejandra went over it again.

  “Isn’t that ethanol?”

  Alejandra pointed at the pedal beneath Kate’s right foot. “We call it gas.”

  Under the glare of several spectators, Kate eventually managed to back the buggy onto the road. With Kate focused on driving, Alejandra kept the mounted gun pointed at the crowd until the cart turned too far for it to reach. Metal protested and scraped as Kate fumbled for first gear, but she managed to get it moving without stalling. The crowd jumped as it backfired; sudden acceleration bounced Kate’s head off a plate behind the seat. Grumbling and cursing, she eased off on the pedal and experimented with steering, hoping the unsettling rattle coming from somewhere behind her was nothing more than the empty cuffs hanging over Alejandra’s head.

  Her hair whipped in the wind as they picked up speed. Each time a strand or four caught in the frame and pulled, she swore. Somewhere in third or fourth gear, she kept the cart on the centerline as much as potholes and debris allowed. A faint clank rang out as a giant insect splattered on the bar in front of her, spraying a mess of yellow slime over her forehead. A second later, an intact bug smacked her in the face, exploding like a hurled egg. The impact left her dazed for a moment as several more peppered the buggy. Alejandra’s explanation of ‘mating clouds’ did not do much to make her feel better.

  Bug guts boiled away to ash.

  “I am sorry for laughing.”

  Kate grumbled, rubbing the beginning of a bruise. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

  “You want me to leave?” Alejandra’s gaze fell.