Shattered Lands

by ALICE HENDERSON

  “What is that?” she asked, looking at the unfamiliar membranous material.

  “It’s a clean skin, an electrostatic shield that also keeps off bacteria and other pollutants. It’ll protect the craft.” He draped it over the spacecraft section, then entered a command on his PRD. In an instant the skin shrank to the exact proportions of the craft.

  Now that it was protected, he ordered the maglev sled over to it. It hovered out, snaking levers in under the craft and slowly lifting it off the table. Raven pulled out a tarp, and together they covered the craft, cinching it tight as an added layer of insulation.

  He checked his PRD again. “Once the eye comes, it’ll be faster if we take the streets than moving at right angles in the subway tunnels.” Raven took a deep breath. “Here we go.” He entered the “follow” command to the sled on his PRD, and they hurried out of the small glass room. Even down here, she could hear the storm raging.

  She moved to a table where a number of drives and disks were stored on a little shelf. She stuffed them all inside her pack.

  They climbed to the ground level of the stairwell and waited for the eye to pass over, taking a seat on the top step. The howling wind screamed overhead. She kept checking her PRD to see when the fragment was going to hit. Four hours. She tried not to think about the effects of the impact where they now stood—their bodies catching fire, windows shattering everywhere, the building collapsing on top of them. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin, and a chill set in.

  “You okay?” Raven asked.

  She nodded, though she felt quite the opposite. Her fingernails had turned blue. She forced a smile, listening to the winds tear the building apart. Her teeth chattered.

  “We’re going to make it,” he said. When she didn’t answer, he lifted his arm. “C’mere. You’re freezing.” She looked to him, seeing that he was inviting her closer for warmth. Beneath his jacket, his clothes were warm and dry. She shrugged off her own wet jacket and scooted over on the step, leaning into him. He put his arm around her, pulling her close. Her face felt warm against his bare neck.

  “This is quite an adventure, huh?” he said.

  “Better than my old job.” Warmth started to spread through her body.

  They sat there in silence, and she became all too aware of his nearness, his scent. She was so unused to being near other people that it still felt strange and new. She watched rain drip off the ends of his long hair. Much of it had come loose from the cord he’d tied it with.

  Outside the raging winds started to fade away abruptly. Soon they found themselves in an eerie quiet.

  “This is it!” Raven said. “The eye!”

  They jumped up, and she slung on her coat. Hurrying through the stairwell door, they rushed through the foyer and stepped out under a clear, blue sky. The grey eyewall was visible above them, staggering and tall. But directly above, the air was clearer than she’d ever seen.

  Once they reached the street they ran toward the commuter train station. The streets were choked with so much rubble and clutter that at times they had to scramble over debris piles and around great heaps of jagged glass. Cold water swashed against their legs as they struggled to make progress.

  As they scrambled over a pile of bricks blocking one street, she looked up and realized they were moving counter to the eye’s path. The terrifying hurricane wall was turning toward them, and their time in the eye was cut mercilessly short. Behind them the maglev sled glided smoothly along the ground, the buzzing of its copters strangely comforting.

  She took the opportunity to call Gordon.

  When his face flashed up on her screen, a sense of relief washed over her.

  “How you doin’ out there, kid?”

  “It’s been a breeze,” she answered.

  “You ready for me to pick you up?”

  “Yes!” She flipped through her display to the image of the hurricane overlaid on the map, and gave him coordinates for a place beyond the edge of the storm where he could land.

  “I’ll be there. Might take me a bit to circle and find a good landing spot.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You be safe.”

  She ended the transmission, and the roar of the hurricane grew. As the storm churned toward them, she could see things tossed in its depths: scraps of old cars, poles, signs.

  Just ahead she saw what remained of the commuter rail station. A sturdy stone building, surprisingly intact compared to those nearby. A chiseled sign in the lintel read, “Garden State Train Station.” She hoped the stairs wouldn’t be blocked. As they ran, her breath came in gasps, and a stitch caught her side. She still wasn’t at a hundred percent after the airship crash. Her heart plummeted when she saw that the top of the stairs was blocked. A building had crashed down long ago, its eroded bricks strewn about the entrance. They didn’t have time to dig it out.

  “Oh no,” Raven breathed.

  H124 jogged around the side of the stairs, running along the block until she came to a partially buried circular covering. “Here!” she called. She recognized these openings from her flight from New Atlantic.

  Raven ran over, and they cleared the few stones blocking the cover. Together they managed to lift the heavy disc, revealing a utility ladder below. She climbed down first, with Raven close behind. The sled reoriented itself, and floated down through the hole. She climbed back up, grabbed the cover, and hefted it back into place with a clang.

  Raven took a moment to catch his breath, hands on his knees. “How long till impact?” he asked as she reached the bottom of the ladder.

  She checked. “Three hours and twenty minutes.”

  He whistled and cracked a smile. “Plenty of time.”

  They hurried downstairs to the platform and found it in shambles, with tiles and bricks spilled out onto the tracks. Some antique clothing and vestiges of an aged shantytown were scattered just inside the westbound tunnel. A sad collection of mold-covered tarps and fallen tents surrounded a central space. There was also a rusted grill, and beds set up on old cinder blocks. Something white stuck out of the bottom of one of the tents, and as they stepped around the rubbish, H124 knelt to study it more closely.

  She jerked back. It was the remains of a human foot, all bone now, picked clean by detritivores in some distant age. She felt sick. She quickly moved past it, swallowing down rising bile. She saw more ivory fragments around the makeshift camp—a skull, someone’s finger bones, part of a leg. It had been nibbled through, the marrow long since dried up, or perhaps even eaten.

  She wondered how long these remains had been down here, entombed and undisturbed, and what had driven the people to live here in the first place. Camping on the tracks meant that the commuter trains weren’t running anymore by that point. Had they hidden down here because of the intense storms, or were they fugitives from New Atlantic? She thought the technology of the camp was far older than that of the megacities.

  A short way down the tunnel, they found an old maintenance crawler still attached to the tracks. Its battery had long since died, and its steel wheels had rusted to the rails. “This would be a lot faster than walking,” Raven said, kneeling down beside it.

  He leaned into it, trying to rock it on the rails. She helped him, throwing her weight into it. With a loud crash it came off the track and landed on its side. They hefted it back onto the rails, then tried to push it. It was sluggish, and the wheels squeaked. It hadn’t moved in a long time. But it would work.

  The crawler had been fitted with a manual hand crank in case the battery died. They each took one side, climbing onto the crawler. They pushed and pulled, and the wheels shed more of their rust, and began to move faster. Before long the crawler was speeding briskly down the tracks. The sled glided along smoothly in tow.

  She consulted her PRD. “We’ve lost a lot of time. We need to be in the air if we’re going to escape the tsunami when the
first fragment hits.”

  Raven glanced around the cavernous gloom. “This place will fill with water.” Right now there was only an inch or so of water pooling on the floor. Once it hit, they’d drown for sure.

  They picked up the pace, operating the hand crank as fast as they could. The crawler wound down the track, passing station after station. They fell into a rhythm, working in silence. The little sled thrummed along behind them.

  As they moved farther west, they passed more shantytowns, and more skeletal relics on the tracks. It appeared as if scavengers had scattered their bones.

  The miles churned by slowly, and her arms started to ache. She could tell Raven was starting to suffer, too. Soon her muscles were trembling from fatigue, but they pressed on with ragged gasps.

  Then Raven burst out laughing.

  She looked up at him, her arms threatening to give out. “What is it?”

  He just kept laughing, shaking his head all the while.

  It was infectious, and soon a smile broke out of her, and a small chuckle to boot. “I have no idea what’s so funny.”

  He wiped a tear from his eye. “Neither do I. I think I’m losing it,” he managed to say through his wild cackling.

  She couldn’t even look at him, it was so contagious. Instead she checked her PRD, one hand on the crank. “We’ve got one hour and twenty minutes to go.”

  “Let’s hope Gordon found fuel, and is waiting.”

  Slowly the laughing fit came to an end, and they moved along the tunnels in silence. Eventually they reached the rendezvous point, their arms rubber and useless.

  “This is it,” Raven said, double-checking their coordinates.

  Leaving the crawler behind, they climbed up to the platform, and took the stairs to the ground floor. The train station roof had fallen through, and sunlight streamed in through the jagged, exposed walls. H124 shielded her eyes. Even though thick clouds hung across the horizon, the sudden glare was intense. She searched the sky for Gordon’s plane, listening.

  A low thrum met her ears, so she looked to the east where dark clouds gathered. The thrumming grew louder, and she expected to see the little Eclipse 500 appear against the clouds. But it didn’t, and the vibration grew so loud she could feel it in her chest. She remembered that feeling, and gripped Raven’s arm. “Airship,” she whispered.

  Raven’s eyes went wide, and together they scanned the sky. The deep thrum seemed to come from everywhere at once, the airship’s engines drumming in her ears. She saw something flicker to the right. Then a sleek PPC airship descended through the clouds. She’d seen what they could do—entire hillsides vaporized in an instant, scores of people incinerated on the spot when they tried to flee. She knew Raven had witnessed them too, when they had set his parents on fire.

  “What are they doing out here?” she asked him.

  “They do routine patrols close to the megacities, taking out any rogue transmitters that might interfere with their broadcasts.”

  Feeling panic rise within her, she searched the clouds for any sign of Gordon. “If Gordon comes now, they’ll shoot him out of the sky.”

  Raven shot her a wary gaze. “I know.”

  She sprinted back toward the commuter train station, leaping over rubble and shattered glass, and brought up her PRD’s communication window. “Gordon!” she cried the moment his face appeared on her display. “There’s an airship here. Don’t land.”

  He frowned. “I’m nearly at the rendezvous point.” She could hear the distant sound of the jet’s engines now. “You only have twenty-two minutes before the first fragment hits.”

  She waved her display to the pertinent screen. “I know. After that, we’ll only have a few minutes before the ejecta hits us.”

  “Then the tsunami. I need to come in and get you.”

  “Give us a chance to deal with the airship.” She reached the cover of the station, and jogged down the stairs. It was then she realized Raven wasn’t with her. “I’ll call you back,” she told Gordon, ending the call. Cautiously she moved back up the stairs and saw the airship lowering over the ruined cityscape. If they didn’t already know they were here, they would soon enough.

  Where was he? She sprinted back down the cracked street, weaving between rusted hulks of ancient vehicles. And then she saw him, standing in the same spot, staring up tearfully.

  The airship thundered toward him. It had spotted them.

  Chapter 8

  “Raven!” H124 called out when she reached his side. “We have to get to cover!”

  He didn’t seem to hear. He just kept staring at the airship, jaw set, his entire frame shaking as tears streamed down his face. She touched his hand. “They’ve seen us.”

  His every muscle went taut, and his hands balled into fists. Above them the airship drew near, homing in on their location.

  “Raven!” she cried, shaking his arm. He gave no indication that he was even aware of her presence. She spun in front of him and gripped his shoulders. She couldn’t break his vacant stare. Finally she brought her hands to his face, forcing him to look at her. When his dark eyes met hers, she felt a visceral hatred, a white-hot fury so intense she shivered. “Raven, they’ll kill us. They could fire at any moment. You know what those things are capable of.” She cradled his face. “Raven!” He blinked, and finally he saw her. “We have to get to cover.”

  He brought up a hand and touched her fingers. Then he grasped her hand, and they sprinted back to the train station. The airship wheeled in the sky, descending, a massive, gleaming asteroid of its own.

  Raven ran slowly at first, stumbling, then found his footing and tore with her across the desolate streets. They started down through the tunnel, but his grip on her hand tightened. “No, wait—if they fire on us when we’re down there, we could get trapped.” The sled slid along behind them, matching their speed. They passed the train station, and he pointed to a recessed doorway in a building that was still largely intact. “There!”

  They hurried over as the airship rounded the street corner behind them. There was a chance it hadn’t seen where they went. When they reached the door, Raven commanded the sled to pull in next to them, out of sight. It was evident that the door had once had glass, but now the metal frame stood empty. They moved inside. He brought up Onyx’s hack, hands shaking as he waved through the display. His dexterous fingers flew over the controls.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to break into their comm system. Try to convince them that they’re in danger. If they’re still out there when the fragment hits, the airburst will probably down them.”

  H124 thought of the crew of the airship, likely quite small—a pilot, and maybe a weapons officer. They followed orders just as she had done all her life, never questioning what she was working for or toward. “Will they listen?”

  “I can try. If not . . .”

  She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t.

  “If not?” she prompted.

  He met her gaze with that same look of agony and contempt smoldering in his eyes. “I’ll take it down.” He gestured toward the sled. “This is too important.”

  Her PRD came up suddenly, with Gordon’s face on the display. She clicked on it. “Gordon?”

  “I’m in trouble up here. That airship wasn’t alone. I’ve got one on my tail.”

  The nearby aircraft slid above the street, passing their hiding spot. Raven raced outside once it had gone farther down, H124 hugging close.

  “Hang on!” she told Gordon. The jet was louder now, so she followed the sound to pinpoint his location. The low clouds brushed the top of his tail, and another glint revealed a huge ship descending right on top of him. “We don’t have time to talk to them!” she urged Raven, gripping his elbow.

  He set his mouth in a grim line. “I agree.”

  His fingers flew deftly through a
number of screens, and H124 clenched her jaw as the airship started the low thrumming she knew all too well. It was about to fire on Gordon, and when it did, nothing would be left but a few chunks of charred metal. Raven entered a series of commands, and the airship tipped violently to one side, sweeping well past Gordon and screaming down toward the ground. Raven halted it about hundred feet from impact, spun it around, and shot it off into the distance.

  He turned his attention to the other airship. “Get out of sight!” H124 urged Gordon over the comm link.

  Raven hacked into their comm system. “I’m in. I see their designation.” He entered a few more commands. “Crew of the airship L435,” he said, reading off its serial number. “If you want to live, you’ll get clear of this area. A piece of space rock is about to collide with the earth. You don’t want to be airborne when it happens.”

  H124 thought of themselves being airborne. They had to get away before the first airburst hit, but now they were cutting it too close. They needed to be at least sixty miles out or it could bring down the plane. She glanced at her PRD. Looking at the data Orion had sent, she studied their location as it related to the impact. A red circle denoted the thermal radius of the blast, and how close they’d have to be to feel the thermal effects, such as catching fire. A glowing yellow-orange circle marked the extent of the airburst, from a deep orange where it could topple buildings, to a paler yellow where glass would shatter. She didn’t relish being in the remains of this crumbling city when the airburst hit them, followed shortly by a second when the other fragment impacted.

  The airship pilot didn’t listen. The machine reversed its course, backtracking to their location. The deep vibration hurt her ears as it closed in, but the pilot still didn’t know exactly where they were.

  “Airship L435,” Raven said again. “Do you acknowledge?”

  “Get off our comm link,” growled a man’s voice.

  The low thrumming grew, and a glaring flash erupted around them. A deafening boom filled their world as the airship fired on the buildings immediately to their right. A concussion wave blew H124 and Raven off their feet, sending them sprawling into the street. What had been several blocks of crumbling masonry and bricks was vaporized in seconds, leaving only a smoking crater.