My eye runs over the old bike. We’ve travelled as light as possible. A Q each, and I’ve a knife in my right boot. My pack has a change of clothes and an old tablet loaded with all the maps we could find. Between us we have food bars from the ship with enough nutrients to keep us going for a day.
I don’t know what Davyd’s carrying in his pack under the small bike seat. But it can’t be much.
“We don’t have enough gas to take detours,” I say.
“I’ve thought of that. There’s the remains of a small town on the way down the other side of the mountains and a tiny station has some gas in a concealed tank out the back. It’s too out of the way for the scavengers to bother.”
I stare. Like me, he’s spent most of his life on a spaceship buried under ground. “How can you possibly know?”
“Unlike some, I haven’t spent my time here wallowing in how wounded and empty I feel. As well as learning to drive the bike, I’ve been making friends. Talking to people. Getting details.”
“Using them, you mean.”
He doesn’t deny it. “Preparation is key to this being successful.”
“Why do you care so much about the rage thing? It affects Lifers more than Fishies. You said so yourself.”
He shields his eyes and looks out over the valley. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to make it to the place I want to camp by sundown.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a heart and my question affected it, but it’s more likely he has some plan of his own for when we reach the Company. He showed back on the ship he’d do whatever it took to achieve his own goal. There’s time, I’ll work out why this matters to him, and then I’ll make sure he can’t screw up the mission. The rage inside me means I have no choice.
Movement behind me makes me spin and drop to my knees, heart hammering.
“Scared of dogs?” Davyd asks.
A moment later, a brown mutt slinks out from between some boulders. The same one from last night, I’m sure of it. I hold out my hand. “You following me Brown Dog?”
He doesn’t wag his tail, but when his head lifts there’s a warm light in his dark eyes. We’re miles from camp, he must have run hard to keep up. His chest heaves, showing the harsh gaps between his ribs. Before I can think, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a ration bar.
“Don’t feed the thing,” Davyd says. “You’ll only encourage it.”
I ignore him and break off a piece. The dog comes closer, his belly low on the gravel, his nose twitching as he sniffs the food. When he halts, I toss it to land at his feet. Despite the fact he’s starving, his head tilts in question.
“It tastes like crap, but it will fill you up. Eat it.”
One gulp and the food’s gone. A moment later, the dog runs past me and rounds the corner. I take three steps after it before I catch myself. Davyd’s right, I shouldn’t be wasting food on some wild dog. And I shouldn’t run off after him in some lame attempt to save him from the dangerous path.
All that matters is getting to the Company.
I straighten and meet Davyd’s amused gaze. “You sure you can handle that road?”
“I’m sure.”
***
I make it through the more dangerous stretches of trail by closing my eyes. Despite being aware of how much I’m putting my life in Davyd’s abilities to keep us upright, I comfort myself with the knowledge that I’ve never met anyone more concerned with their own survival. That and some half-whispered prayers to anyone and everything I can think of who might give us a little luck.
It works.
We break for food around midday. We eat ration bars only made bearable by some of the lemon tea I had at Lady’s last night. I almost ask Davyd whether he got it from her when saying farewell, but I resist. I know she’s ignored him since Samuai returned, and as much as he annoys me, I can’t forget the way he cared for her when she was grieving.
We’re sitting in silence when the rain that’s threatened all day falls with a rush like a bowl emptying from the sky. The shower passes as fast as it arrives, and though we’re both half-soaked, the afternoon’s ride is easy going. The track is rough but there are no more death plunges.
I estimate it’s late afternoon when we stop again.
When Davyd talked about the remnants of a town, I imagined an old-fashioned roadside diner like the ones in the vids we used to watch on the ship, back when we thought we’d left Earth far behind. Instead, the track leads us to an old farmhouse with a broken fuel pump at the end of a long drive.
“Town?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s what I was told. This must be it, though.”
We leave the bike concealed in some trees and make our way closer on foot. There’s an open grassland, once a farming field, and not much to hide behind. But I figure we’d have as good a look at anyone attacking. I relax pretty quickly. The place is deserted.
What appeared to be an intact building from the hilltop is anything but whole. It looks like it’s been split in the Upheaval by a chasm down the center of the old kitchen. A woodstove hangs over the edge, and I wonder what happened to the farmer who lived here. I find myself teetering at the edge of a drop into blackness. What happened in those terrible days when the world descended into chaos blamed on unseen aliens? Did they survive the quakes and floods? Did anyone fall?
The single bedroom has a mattress on the floor and a cupboard with a few clothes left hanging on wooden hangers.
Davyd walks the perimeter of the house area and when he returns, nods as though we’ve come to an agreement. “We’ll stop for the night here.”
“Here? I thought we’d get closer to the city. The longer it takes, the more likely it is we’ll return to more lives lost, or worse a Company attack that we’ve missed because we’ve come all this way. We could be there and inside before midnight.”
“We could be.”
“And?”
“And we’d be tired and sloppy and likely to get killed before we’re within sight of New City.”
“Your plan is better?”
“Yes. Sleep for a few hours here. Get into a good position for reconnaissance. Being rested will allow us to get that much closer without detection. We’ll go in the next day.”
“But that’s a whole day wasted.”
“Only if you don’t want to survive.”
A yawn defeats my argument before I can make it. I don’t know why I’m so tired. It’s not like being on the back of the bike has been hard work. “Fine. But I get the mattress, and you take first watch.”
He doesn’t argue, and it doesn’t take long to find the hidden fuel and prepare to leave first thing. The weather’s clearing, and tomorrow should be good for travel.
I drag the stove into the bedroom and light a fire for warmth against the chill in the night air while Davyd prepares a simple stew from a dehydrated ration pack. I don’t look at the mush as I eat, a trick Mother taught me when I was little. I used to complain that the supposed meat and vegetables all tasted exactly the same.
After the plain dinner, Davyd surprises me with some fresh apples and even cuts them into pieces for us to share, covering them with icing sugar to make a sweet treat. When I settle back, my stomach is satisfied, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
The mattress is lumpy and holds lingering body odors of those who’ve slept here before. Yet, my body relaxes onto it as soon as I lie down. I try to watch Davyd, sitting up by the window on an old wooden chair he brought in from the veranda, but my eyes drift closed. I listen to his breathing instead, glad I’m not alone in this strange place.
Silences are rarely comfortable with Davyd.
With last night’s dinner on my mind and the last of that lemon tea lingering on my taste buds, I find myself curious about how much he knows.
“I saw Huckle last night,” I begin, forcing my eyes open to see his reaction.
Davyd’s lip curls. “A dinner date
with Mother and Little Boy Lost? How sweet, all of you playing happy families.”
I ignore the sarcasm. “I didn’t know he was so bad.”
“Yes, it’s tragic.”
Rather than the sadness I saw in Samuai, he’s amused. Sure, Huckle gave me the creeps and killed my father, but to glory in what the man’s become? I shudder. “You’re sick, you know that?”
“I’m realistic. That man isn’t my father, and you have no idea what it was like to grow up thinking differently.”
“Your privileged existence must have been so hard to bear.”
He shakes his head. “You think that because you had plain food and no decent shower you had it tough? You think you had the monopoly on a shitty life? You have no idea, Princess.”
There’s pain in his gray eyes. So raw I can’t stand looking at it. I never thought … I assumed because he wasn’t a servant he had it made. His words shrink me to about an inch tall.
Only for a second.
His lips twitch. “Had you going, didn’t I? Of course my life was awesome except for my too-good-to-be-true big brother. Once I got rid of him it was sweet. He never has explained exactly what happened when he first left the ship.”
“He has. Maston fooled him and wiped his memories.”
“I’m talking about Zed. Have you two talked about how your brother met his end?” He waits and interprets my silence correctly. “I’m not surprised. Kind of ruins the fairytale you have going.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I snap, finally finding my voice. If there was Samuai would have told me. Except … last night he tried to tell me something, and I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to kiss him instead.
Beneath, my ribs start aching like when Zed and I would play chasey in an empty training room until we couldn’t breathe. This pain won’t get better with a few good breaths.
I lower my eyes, but Davyd knows he’s hit me where it hurts.
“Anyway,” he says lightly, “Samuai’s return kind of sucked, but your declaration that I’m the better brother in front of the council turned things back my way.”
Only one day travelling with Davyd and my self-control has been tested at every turn. It’s like he wants to break me. “You should know, the only reason I chose you is because no one would miss you if I lost control and smashed your brains out.”
I expect one of his usual comebacks but instead he turns away. “I know.”
He’s playing me, I know it, but I can’t stop the flutter of regret at my tactless explanation. I bite down on an apology because he’d only see it as weakness.
With nothing more to say, I fight my heavy eyelids and pull out the maps of New City, where the Company have their headquarters. I stare at the tablet screen, attempting to imprint the contents on my brain. I have no idea how long the battery will last, and I don’t want to be stuck there without any idea how to head home.
The setting sun bathes the room in dusky pink light, its rays shining on the dust we’ve stirred up in making camp. I know home is toward the setting sun, but hopefully the huge mountains will help my sense of direction from the city. It’s once I get up into the rocks that I might have a problem.
I retrace today’s journey in my mind. If I could find the trail, I think I’d find my way … Home. Funny a tent in the middle of nowhere with a whole lot of people I don’t even like that much has earned that label so quickly.
After a while, when darkness has cloaked the farmhouse and the only light is the orange glow from the stove, I pack it all away. Sharing the old farmhouse with Davyd is like sharing a tent with a snake, but if I don’t sleep, I won’t have a hope of functioning when we get to the Company headquarters. I close my eyes, intending to go over the maps again, but what I’m thinking about as my breathing slows, is Toby, The older Green Robe sought me out this morning before we left while Davyd spoke quietly with Keane.
“Be careful,” he had said, his voice heavy.
I’d studied the lines of his face and the shadows in his eyes before everything—the way Keane deferred to him at the meeting and the intensity in him now—clicked. “You’ve been there before.”
A short nod confirmed my guess.
“Was it so terrible, this New City?”
His lips thinned and then moisture gathered in his eyes. “No, and that’s what makes them so damn dangerous.”
***
A prickle of pain on my neck wakes me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I lift my strangely heavy hand to slap at the bug and meet a cold blade. My chest constricts and eyes fly open.
Beady brown eyes are only inches from my face. They crinkle into a manic grin. “What ya doing on my mattress?”
I try to sit up, back away, but the owner of the eyes—female I’m guessing from the voice—has the knife pressed against my throat so that moving makes the cut deeper. Not moving doesn’t take much convincing.
“I didn’t know it was yours,” I say conversationally despite the churning anger in my belly. I need to buy some time. Where’s Davyd? And what does this person want?
“Likely story.” Her rancid breath is sour on my skin.
“Why don’t you put away the knife so we can talk?”
The grin becomes a giggle. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You think you’ll talk to me long enough and your friend will come back and you’ll outnumber me. I’m not stupid. Anyway, the look of the way your friend packed up and wheeled that bike out of here before speeding down the track tells me he won’t be back for a while.”
“He’s gone?”
A cold sweat breaks down my spine, fuelling my anger. I should have known trusting Davyd was a mistake. But I was so, so tired. Too tired. I mentally replay him preparing the stew we had for dinner and pouring the tea at lunch. He could have slipped me something then. He must have. My teeth grind together. When I catch up to him, he’ll pay.
“Gone,” she says. The pressure on my neck eases a little. “We’re all alone, and I’m the one holding a knife.”
Despite how out of it I was last night, I’m not completely inept. Making sure my eyes stay locked with the girl’s I edge my hand to the boot I didn’t take off to sleep. The Q is somewhere in my jacket, but I have my knife. If I can keep her attention for another few seconds, she won’t be the only one armed.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I warn.
The eyes narrow. “You don’t seem to understand that I have all the power here, and you … You’re just some girl trying to take my bed. I could slit your throat without a second thought.” Her chin lifts. “I’ve done it before.”
Blade in hand at last, I tense. Then she lifts her chin a fraction more, and I realize what my drug hazed brain has been missing. I’m dealing with a child. She might be insane, but taking into account the slight stature, the overconfidence, the high pitch of her voice, I’m guessing she couldn’t be much older than Zed was when he died.
The anger that has been building inside me releases on a long breath.
“You could slit my throat,” I say calmly. “But throat slitting is really messy, and your mattress would be stuffed afterwards. The blood would be impossible to remove.”
There’s a moment of silence and then the blade drops away. She doubles over, laughing.
I fight a smile. “It’s not that funny.”
Her head lifts, and I see her properly for the first time. She’s painfully skinny, with long dark knotted hair, dark brown eyes, skin a deep brown beneath a layer of dirt and wearing rags of indeterminable color. She holds out a hand “The name’s Rael. And this is my place.”
I shake. “Asher.”
“Hi, Asher.” Rael jerks her head into the shadows in the corner. “Is that yours?”
Thanks to the gloom and the early hour, it takes me a second to make out the hunched shape of a dog. Familiar eyes watch me from the other side of the room. “Nice to see you again Brown Dog.” He trots over at his name, his paw clicking across the floor. I p
at him on the head where his short fur is least matted. He tenses at first, but as he relaxes into my touch, his tail swishes in wary happiness.
Rael hesitates and then touches a fingertip to his side. Her whole hand follows when he doesn’t growl. “He’s not much of a guard dog.”
“He’s not mine. I fed him yesterday, he’s probably looking for more of the same.” I study her. “Why didn’t you let us know you were here?”
A shadow crosses her thin face. “You’re not my first visitors.”
She says nothing more, but my stomach cramps and the usual anger flares inside me. Not at her but whoever was here last. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I hid and I watched and I didn’t sleep on my mattress.”
“Sorry again.”
She waves away my apology. “I saw your friend, although I guess I shouldn’t call him that since he’s left you here. Snuck out about an hour ago, and I figured I’d come and investigate.”
“With a knife?”
“You’re bigger than me. And on my mattress.”
I blink hard, wishing my eyes weren’t so heavy. I’m trying to think, but it’s like somebody filled my head with glue.
She’s a little obsessed with the mattress. “Would it help if I sat on the chair?”
“I don’t know. Depends how long you’re planning on staying. You’ve been abandoned. What are you going to do about it?”
Chapter Six
[Samuai]
I’m not lame enough to get up before dawn to watch them leave.
But I think about doing so. I wake without any need for an alarm and lie there on my uncomfortable camp bed, listening. Imagining I can hear the scrape of feet on the rocks as Asher and Davyd meet up. I can almost hear them talking to Keane right up until the last minute to get details on New City and the best route to get there—details that will likely ensure Davyd goes a different way. Then the camp is still and silent again, and my gut cramps and fists clench as in my head I see them riding off into the sunrise together.
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