Climatic Climacteric Omnibus

by L. B. Carter

  Nor had already snagged Sirena’s hand and was towing her, keeping up with Buster, Henley behind them all. Henley doubted their leader would reach back for her hand like he had under the threat of the drones. That was fine by her. She was still pissed.

  Someone bumped into her, and Henley pulled her arms in, overlapping them across her stomach. It was a defensive move, and also protective, keeping her secret hidden. She had noticed the glove was rapidly deteriorating as she toyed with it over the remaining hours of silent tension in the truck after their short quarrel.

  She hadn’t seen this many people congregated in such a small area since—since those few nights after the fire, after the hospital, when they’d been cooped up in a sports stadium with the other evacuees, relegated to a square footage smaller than her bedroom for her entire family, only two cots, if the unforgiving material strung on a metal frame could be called that, between the… the three of them and Marlowe. That had been particularly cloying with the scent of smoke still lingering on everyone’s clothes, woven into people’s hair, children crying, mourning families sobbing over the loss of their everything, others also missing family members.

  Here, the sounds were that of boats tooting horns in the distance, ferrying hordes across, westerners reuniting with easterners on arriving transportation, desperate salesmen calling out their goods at passersby, many of them looking similarly dusty to Henley’s troop—farmers, like Lindy, desperate to sell any of their last produce to afford necessary staples.

  Henley was hungry. She still had no money and was loath to steal from such already hard off folks. Her privilege in what was beginning to feel like BSTU’s luxury enclosure made her decision to diverge feel a little unwise.

  Termination. That was the word that kept her on track. It was worth losing that sanctity, contradictorily, to get to Bromley.

  “Keep up,” Buster snapped, and Henley picked up her pace, her lips tightening, traipsing in and out of the swarm of bodies like they were cornstalks, down the middle of the road.

  Cars were parked on either side, between the homemade stalls and few ramshackled buildings that she suspected were the supply stores Lindy had mentioned.

  She would hurry. She would do as he asked, hot-wiring someone’s parked car. Then she would vanish, without looking back. She had faith that Nor was capable of saving Sirena. That was his job, right?

  “Here.” Buster announced, dipping to the right, sliding behind one of said sad buildings to a parking lot Henley hadn’t been able to see, her eye sight level with most others’ chests and chins. Being tall had its advantages.

  That didn’t mean she needed him. So far, it had only been the other way around. That was an unhealthy relationship—asymmetric, parasitic. She was just slowing herself down sticking with him.

  The lot was much quieter than the main street, relaxing Henley not a bit. The time was fast approaching for her to run. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off smoothly. Would they chase her? She doubted it; Buster had his own mission, and Sirena and Nor were trying to lay low. They wouldn’t do something to draw attention to themselves. It was easier to ditch those who had no means or motive to chase than it was to continue to dodge BSTU as a large group.

  “I need you three to stand guard while I work and let me know if anyone’s coming,” Henley said, proud that she kept the nerves from her voice. One of her palms was starting to sweat. Helpfully, the other did not, so she was able to get the door of a boring sedan unlocked and slid into the seat, pulling the door closed. She had no idea how fully-handed car thieves managed to handle and strip the wires with slimy fingers.

  She got the paneling off, glancing up to see that Buster had taken his place next to her door, his wide back filling the window as he kept watch. She glanced to the other side where Nor’s and Sirena’s backs faced the other direction. The mirror confirmed no one was behind, the direction she would be heading first… and fast. She was hoping to reverse before the others could react.

  Shoving her hands under the column, she froze. Literally. Her hand was locked, unresponsive to her mental stimulations that directed its movement.

  What was—?

  Oh, fudge.

  Henley sat back, dropping her head against the headrest, eyes closing, her useless hand falling into her lap. It had been a few days since they’d left. And without electricity at the farm, she’d had no means to recharge her superpower.

  She was once again handicapped.

  For a few seconds, she tried vainly to manipulate the car’s wires with a stiff finger as leverage to push against with her working hand. It was no use. The dexterity simply wasn’t there. One opposable thumb only went so far.

  Henley pushed open her door, slamming into Buster’s behind.

  He stumbled a step then curled around, grabbing the door wider to slip into her seat—as if he’d get to drive when she was the one who started it? “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the car not running, looking back into her face.

  “I—” she stuttered, unsure what to say. “I can’t.”

  His brows dropped. “You did it before.”

  “Yeah, well, not this time.”

  His expression cleared, and his nostrils flared as he breathed out in exasperation. “Don’t argue with me. This benefits you, too, unless you want to gamble with hitch-hiking.” He raised a brow indicating what he thought of that ludicrous alternative.

  Henley’s brows had snapped down. “I’m not arguing. I just can’t. Not this time.” She couldn’t explain further and, frankly, didn’t want to with his overbearing attitude.

  “Don’t get high morals on me this time. It’s not like you’ve got a clean record anyway.”

  “What’s going on?”

  They both ignored Nor. “Thanks to you! I never wanted to build up my list of offenses. Fourteen in forty-eight hours is too many.”

  “I’m helping you get home.” Buster said, voice deepening with anger.

  “No, you’re not. You’re taking me somewhere you won’t tell me, for reasons you won’t tell me, and using me all the while. Well, I’m done. You’re on your own. Panel’s off. Good luck with the wiring. You’re smart; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She waved her flesh hand toward the steering column, furious, pushed past Buster, and stalked off, going where, she didn’t know, but away from there, ignoring Sirena’s calls after her.

  She needed to find somewhere to recharge, and then she was figuring out the rest of her trip by herself.

  Sirena was wrong. Sometimes people didn’t need to be around other people; sometimes those people should be alone because they were manipulative and rude and didn’t deserve the help they’d gotten thus far.

  ◆◆◆

  Trading her shoes for the use of an electrical outlet and the cashier’s phone charging cord at the nearest convenience store wasn’t ideal—after peering through the window to confirm he wasn’t an android. The tile was cold and grimy under her bare feet. It was the only thing she could really afford to lose.

  She was not willing to remove the borrowed leggings and t-shirt, no matter how smelly, sweaty and dusty they were, and underwear was inconsiderable. If only she’d stolen Buster’s watch before she ditched him with the hot vehicle. Once again, it would have been constructive to have gathered useful items before leaving BSTU. She had anticipated… Well, Henley wasn’t sure what kind of expedition she had anticipated. Perhaps a simple flight home? It hadn’t really crossed her mind; she’d been too worried about the success of the actual escape itself to think beyond that. It had been her life on the line.

  A few people were browsing the lackluster aisles, which held sweets, fats, and caffeine: all the nutritional food groups. This place could do with some vitamins. Even the Stanley brothers’ meal-replacement powder would be healthier in terms of supplement for a sea-crossing journey.

  Keeping her hair loose and chin down to hide her face, she’d picked the shabbiest of the huts that still had electricity, which would be less likely to afford BS
TU-sourced security. She hadn’t seen any. They were a luxury item, unlikely to be owned by most of the people here, it seemed.

  The few bodies roaming the store, whom she also kept track of through her strands, were possibly dirtier than her, one mumbling under his breath about prices. They did seem high to Henley, but she had no perception of the relative effects of inflation during her time hidden away in Boston, up marking due to the location in a high-demand area, and overpricing at this particular establishment, one of a few in the area that actually carried sealed goods on shelves instead of piles of items in bins at the kiosks she’d passed in her rapid scramble to expand the distance between her and the Bus.

  One young kid came up to the register next to her, bearing a single water bottle.

  Henley pulled her hand tighter underneath her other arm, and turned away. The cord that stretched across the smudged glass counter top and into her folded arms hopefully appeared to just attach to a phone in her hand.

  The bored cashier mumbled a random number.

  “That much?” the kid asked, voice breaking. “Fine,” he grumbled. There was a lot of muttering, and Henley snuck a glance over. The kid was digging around in his pockets, pulling out change and placing it on the counter one by one, taking far too long in her proximity for Henley’s liking. He dropped a coin that bounced over to her feet.

  She shuffled as far away as the cord would allow.

  “No shoes?” the kid asked, stooping next to her toes to pick up the coin. She lifted one foot and rubbed it on the top of the other, self-consciously. He peered up at her, eyes distorted behind thick frames, curiosity in his open expression, not hostility, she told herself.

  “No,” she said shortly and turned aside as he stood and went back to his task.

  “Dangerous,” he told her. “You might step on something and get infected.”

  Henley didn’t reply. She tried to flex her fingers. Not yet. She suspected the voltage here was quite weak.

  “My mom’s a surgeon. She’s made me quite careful to avoid germs. I’m a little OCD about it.”

  Henley gave a soft snort. She usually was too, but this was no lab. Even if she were to clean herself, she’d be dirty again in minutes, simply by brushing up against someone else in the crowd. Perfect hygiene was another luxury this part of the country lacked. “Good luck with that,” she couldn’t help muttering.

  “I know,” he agreed, nodding with wide eyes. “This isn’t the best place. I was grateful to even find soap at the public bathrooms down the street. And let me tell you, you really do want that after being in there.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Henley peeked up at him. “Soap?” That could be her first step in independent travel—finally getting rid of all the grime from the terrible things Buster had forced her into: the T, other peoples’ cars, farm. It was more Reed’s fault they’d run out of power there, but she somewhat irrationally blamed Buster for much of the dust on her body since it had been collected when she tackled him to protect him from being seen by the drones. She shook her head. She had been too generous toward him, and he was ungrateful for any of it.

  “Yep, just down the block. I can show you if you want. After you’re done charging. And I have a spare pair of shoes in my car. You don’t have to owe me anything. I know how rough times are. What with these prices,” he scoffed.

  She finally glanced up at him with a little smile. There were people out there who were generous even without her doing something for them. “Yes, please.”

  While the kid smiled and finished paying for his water, she tried her hand again. This time, there was a little flicker, and she was starting to gain feeling back.

  She looked up as the kid came to stand next to her, untwisting the cap on his water. He took a sip then nodded at the cord. “No car charger?”

  “No car,” she returned.

  His mouth opened, gaping. “How you going to cross? Or did you just arrive?”

  She shrugged. “Just gonna walk, I guess.”

  “With no shoes?” He shook his head, his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. “Damn, somewhere you gotta be that bad?”

  She gave a noncommittal head wobble. “Pretty urgent.”

  He didn’t press, which Henley appreciated. “Well, forget shoes. If you want a ride, I’m heading over.”

  Henley lifted her working hand to twist her hair as she thought, recollecting Bus’s sarcastic comment about risking hitch-hiking. It was a faster option. She was sure Bus wouldn’t be impeded by her lack of help for long and would be making his own way toward his destination, headstrong as he was and undeterred, from what he put his mind to, by anything. With his long legs, he’d catch up quick, more so if he figured out how to hot wire the car she’d so helpfully laid out for him. And she really needed to get home. On the other hand, her flesh hand, she didn’t know this kid. “I’m fine walking. You can just bring me the shoes here if you don’t mind.”

  He grinned, seeing the indecision on her face, presumably. “You’re sure? I’d even let you drive.”

  Her hand clutched into a fist.

  Finally.

  She turned away, pulled out the plug and handed it to the cashier with a comment of thanks then faced the kid. She felt more confident with her secret weapon back. She reminded herself that with that, she could pretty well defend herself. After all, she’d doubled Buster over, whose bone structure was massive. This kid was pretty small—about her height—and really skinny. He also felt kind of like a kindred spirit with his nerd glasses and germaphobia.

  “Show me the soap first, and you’ve got a deal.”

  He grinned. “Of course—” He let his sentence hang, waiting for her to fill in her name.

  Remembering how cagey Buster and the Stanleys had been their names, she gave only a nickname. “Hen.”

  He laughed. “Hen? Like a chicken?”

  She was no chicken, making a break for it without her accomplices. A small smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

  “All right, Hen.” He held out a hand, and she glanced down, worried he was hoping for a handshake she was unwilling to return. He was offering his water bottle.

  She took it, parched now that it was in front of her. Really, having no money was a pain in the butt, and they’d left their water supply back with Reed. “Thanks. And you are?” She took a sip.

  She must have been more dehydrated than she had noticed in her rush to first find a car with the others and then get away from them to amend her handicap because stars danced in her vision. She didn’t know why they were called stars; it was more like blackness with flashing little lights all around, like the fireflies had in with a night sky background above the cornfield.

  “What was your name?” She knew he’d said something, but it hadn’t penetrated, wisping away like smoke. She blinked hard and tried to focus on his blurring face, watching his lips move as he spoke.

  “I’m Stewart. And you’re going to help me find the specimen you stole from me.”

  Now he sounded like Buster, she thought loopily, her thoughts tangling like… like tangled wire, tripping over each other. That jerk was so cruel as to not call the girl by a name like she wasn’t human. She was simply a product of human modification. By those standards, Henley could be construed as a ‘bot, less human even than Sirena, who was all flesh and blood.

  The pretty fireflies swarmed closer. They could also be likened to the flash of a drone’s search light as it made passes across the field.

  Determining which analogy best fit became no longer a thought in Henley’s mind as all the lights cut out.

  Chapter Ten

  Ace was seething. He didn’t really care that Henley was gone. She could have been of use to him at their final destination, but traveling with him, she only weighed him down. Or so he’d thought.

  She resolutely slashed a red pen through that hypothesis with her sudden departure. He didn’t even understand what had turned her off of helping this time; she had already boosted several c
ars. He knew she had strong morals back in BSTU where she worked diligently and endlessly. She thought he was research-obsessed when, in reality, he’d seen enough to know she hadn’t squandered her time, effort or mind. It would be shocking if BSTU weren’t searching for her; she was a true asset.

  And without her, their troupe was stuck.

  “You don’t think she left, do you?”

  Ace was, for a second, discombobulated by the experiment’s question; they had watched Henley storm off, hugging her arms around her body in a closed, standoffish shield.

  “We’d probably hear that thing from a mile away,” Nor answered.

  Lindy. They were talking about Lindy. Nor had voiced the idea to find her and coerce her into escorting them across the bridge in exchange for medical attention and supplies for her family once this was all over. It was one idea, barring the insignificant factor that there was no such thing as all over, particularly without Henley to complete one of his goals.

  He had to hope they caught up to her. And they’d never do that in the old truck when Henley could just steal any fully-functioning car she wanted.

  Although, she wouldn’t. She had refused to do so. The vehemence with which she delivered her rejection gave Ace certainty that she would uphold her decision; it was not a matter of being unwilling at his behest though he knew she resented him for that. It was an emotion of which he could not divine the origin. As a student working for one of the most powerful academics in the country, it was inconceivable that she would have issues heeding authority.

  Maybe it was that—that she did not view Ace as authority; the Bus, as she had referred to him more than once, was not a likeness that inspired great confidence and reverence. Then again, she had also given him the accolade of the smartest at BSTU, and her depiction of him as a bus was induced in relation to his ability to “plow” over others, in Henley’s terms. Would she not expect, then, that he would be confident, determined?

  Ace stepped up next to a firework stand as Nor and his specimen continued to argue about the worth versus risk of walking south where Lindy had stopped to gather water. Ace had already calculated how long it would probably have taken her and deemed the extra trip pointless.