Offworld

by Robin Parrish

  "It would he foolish of me to assume I could find them back at the fairgrounds," Roston offered.

  "That would indeed be foolish," replied Chris.

  "Where are they, Captain?"

  "I want to talk to Terry. I can see you've pieced together that we're close by and watching. So I want Terry on the eastern edge of the bridge where I can see him. Then we'll talk about your men."

  Whatever else he may have been, Roston wasn't a man at his limit. Yet. So Chris hoped negotiation might still be an option.

  "Very well," Roston said.

  A moment passed and Terry was pulled from one of the jeeps and stood on the side of the bridge as instructed. Roston was next to Terry, and Roston was a good head taller than Terry. But then, most men were. He also noted that Terry's hands were bound in front with zip-ties.

  "Terry?" said Chris through the radio.

  "Chris," Terry replied.

  Chris glanced at Trisha, who closed her eyes briefly before snapping them back open.

  "How are you?" Chris asked.

  "Same as ever."

  "Still infuriating all the right people?" Chris asked, keeping a close eye on Roston's movements.

  "You know me," replied Terry.

  "You don't look any worse than you did after that day we spent at Tholus Summit," Chris said, referring to a day the two of them had taken the rover out to a remote location on Mars.

  "That should do," said Roston, taking back the radio. "Now come out where I can see you, Captain, or this conversation has no future."

  Chris stepped out from behind the railcar and into plain view. He turned off the radio, clipped it to his belt, and grasped his gun with both hands.

  "I want a trade," he shouted, loud enough for Roston to hear.

  Immediately, two dozen men lined the edge of the bridge, weapons brought to bear on the railroad tracks where Chris stood.

  "Make sure your people stay up there where I can see them, Colonel," Chris shouted, "or your missing men will never be found."

  "You'd be impressed at how efficient my soldiers are at finding things," Roston shouted back in reply.

  "You could comb the surface of the whole planet and come up " empty-handed, I promise you."

  I believe you, Captain. All right then, a trade. Kessler for the location of my men. But after you have him back, I want your word that you will take him and go. Leave Texas, get as far away from Houston as you possibly can."

  Chris hesitated. "You already know I won't agree to that."

  Roston's expression darkened. But rather than be angry, he appeared exasperated, impatient. "Has it not occurred to you that I might be trying to help you? That it's in the interests of the safety of you and your crew to stay away?"

  All right," Chris replied. "I'll consider it. But I want your word that you won't follow us or try to subdue us again."

  "You have it," said Roston without hesitation. "We'll keep our distance. But I can't make the same promise if you come looking for us."

  "Then we've reached a stalemate, again." Chris' eyes shifted for a split second to something beneath the bridge, before returning his gaze to Roston and his men.

  Roston, for his part, nodded at a nearby soldier, whom Chris noticed for the first time was the only one up there, aside from Roston, who wasn't wearing a ski mask. He didn't stand out in any other way that Chris could see in the early afternoon light. He'd have to get closer to make out details.

  At Roston's nod, the soldier raised a single arm and began pointing in various directions. The men atop the bridge split instantly and took their cues, running to take up new positions, some of them creeping closer to the edges of the railroad basin.

  Roston spoke up again. "I'm afraid keeping you away is worth more to me than getting my men back. You're leaving me little choice here, Captain. I can't let you get any closer to Houston."

  Chris swallowed. "Either way, I'm getting Terry back. Now!"

  At Chris' signal, several things happened at once.

  Owen, from a remote location not too far away, began firing his rifle with trained precision, creating chaos as a spray of bullets chipped cement off the side barrier of the bridge that stood between Roston and Burke.

  There was lots of shouting from Roston and his men, as Terry stepped up onto that same barrier the very second the bullets stopped, and took a mad leap over the edge.

  As Terry fell, a black jeep burst forward from beneath the bridge, straddling the second railroad track. Terry's legs clomped hard onto the roof of the jeep and he grabbed the front edge with his bound hands, holding tight.

  Mae was at the wheel, and it showed; the car veered wildly from one side of the tracks to the other at breakneck speed, and she seemed to be having trouble remembering where to find the brake pedal.

  As Owen peppered the bridge with more gunshots, Chris dove across to the opposite side of the tracks, narrowly avoiding being hit by Mae. She found the brakes just long enough for him to get in the passenger's seat as Trisha ran to get in the back. Terry slid down and snaked through the other rear passenger window, never touching the ground. Mae was already driving again by the time he was seated.

  "Put your foot all the way down!" Chris hollered at Mae.

  She complied and the jeep lurched violently.

  Chris turned to see that they were not being followed; Roston's men were scrambling to get back in their vehicles and give chase. It would be another minute or more before they were able to navigate down to the train tracks, and by then their single vehicle would be out of sight.

  Mae whipped the jeep to the left as they approached the school, and it climbed the soft hill until she slammed on the brakes again under an overgrowth of tall trees. The second jeep waited there.

  "Nice driving," Terry remarked as Trisha cut him free of his bonds.

  Mae still held tightly to the steering wheel, as if she might die if she turned loose. She didn't look back at him, but said, "First time."

  "No kidding?" Terry joked, smiling.

  Chris spoke into the radio one last time. "Your men are in the women's restroom at the Wal-Mart adjacent to Parkdale Mall." The mall was a few miles to the north off Highway 287, not far from the fairgrounds. It was also in the opposite direction of Burke's intended route out of town.

  "Well played, Captain," came Roston's cool reply "I underestimated you. It won't happen again."

  "Whatever you're doing," Chris said, "whatever this is about I'm going to stop you."

  Chris switched off the radio before anything else could be said.

  "Move it, everyone," Chris barked, then added in a softer tone, "Mae ... you can let go."

  Stiff and slow, she turned loose of the wheel and stumbled out of the car, the shell-shocked look on her face not disappearing.

  "Where's Beech?" Terry asked.

  "Hiding," Trisha replied. "We'll pick him up on our way out of town."

  Everything seemed to freeze for a moment as Chris and Terry came face-to-face outside of the jeep. Chris frowned, crossing his arms.

  "So .. " Chris stared at him, a stern look on his face.

  Terry looked back, half frowning, his hands in his pockets and his eyes not quite meeting Chris'. "Yeah," he said.

  Chris held his harsh gaze a moment longer, then reluctantly softened. "Okay, then."

  Terry smiled and looked up, his body relaxing. "Okay."

  Trisha marched between them, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Boys .. .

  "I'm just glad you had the presence of mind to know what I meant by Tholus Summit," said Chris.

  "Took me a second, but I got there," replied Terry, grinning.

  Chris took the driver's seat of the jeep, and the others moved to follow.

  But Mae appeared behind Terry and whacked him across the back of his head. "Dumbhead!" she shouted.

  Terry rubbed his head as she marched away to the other jeep. "Yeah,Iknow, Iam .."

  "Enough fooling around," said Chris. "It'll be night in a few hours, and R
oston's men will be here any minute. We need to find someplace to bed down-"

  Just as the words were leaving his lips, their surroundings seemed to blink.

  Chris fell through nothing, through something like gray storm clouds. It was like free-falling into a bottomless pit; there was nothing beneath him that he could see, and he descended for what felt like five full minutes. It was freezing cold, and dampness hung heavy in the air as he dropped. He waved his arms about, hoping that something would appear that he could grab onto. But as he fell farther and farther, there was no end in sight.

  "Help!" he allowed himself to shout. He refused to scream in fear or panic. But if any of the others were experiencing the same thing he was, maybe they weren't far away.

  The silent reply was a deafening roar of wind, rushing past his ears as he flew downward through the clouds.

  There was another blink and he was sitting in the driver's seat of the jeep again. But he was shivering from the cold he'd experienced, and his T-shirt clung to his skin, the moisture from the clouds having soaked through it.

  Directly in front of the two jeeps was the spinning dark mass they called the void and it had shrunk. Now it was just a little bigger than the jeep. The four of them watched in stunned silence until it disappeared without a sound.

  FOURTEEN

  Evening in Anahuac, Texas, was sticky and uncomfortable.

  The tiny township rested at the southern tip of Lake Anahuac, which was more than four times the size of the town itself. It was a detour from their Highway 10 route to Houston-not so far it took them terribly out of their way, but obscure enough to allow them to stop and catch their collective breath. They couldn't afford to stay more than the night, Chris told them, but even he was tired. Houston would he their destination first thing in the morning.

  Without power in the small town, the night sky was alive with thousands of stars and a dazzlingly white moon, brighter than they'd ever seen it from Earth.

  Houston was less than fifty miles away, and the bright beacon of light lit up the sky like a perfectly columned spotlight shining clown from an orbiting spaceship. But unlike a normal spotlight, it lost no strength as it traveled. As high and far as they could see, it was just as strong as it was low on the horizon. They knew from Roston's words that it had to be coming from within Houston proper, though it was impossible to be any more specific without a closer look. Even zooming in with Owen's satellite imagery didn't help; the light was simply too intense, blocking out most of the town with its brilliant radiance.

  They selected a ranch on the north end of town, right on the edge of a lake. A large farmhouse would provide shelter for sleep, while the barn would give them a place to hide their two stolen jeeps, in case Roston and his men were tracking them through satellite imagery. Approaching the farm was like stepping into the past; it boasted few of the modern technologies they were accustomed to.

  The minute they'd parked inside the barn, Chris instructed Trisha to go inside and get some rest. She gratefully, and wordlessly, obliged. He'd never seen her so at pains to hide her exhaustion and stiffness. She looked like she'd been squashed beneath a tank.

  Terry got out of the other jeep and set off for the lake's shoreline, only a few dozen yards away. Mae stopped him, and Chris thought he heard her mumble something about being glad Terry was back, before she turned and followed Trisha inside the house.

  Owen and Chris stood inside the barn, waiting as the others dispersed. Hay bales propelled their distinct scent up Chris' nose, and he wanted to leave the barn like everyone else. But he waited, wanting to ask Owen for one last thing before he turned in.

  "We need to make sure there are no tracking devices on these things." Chris nodded toward the jeeps. `'And since you know better than any of us what to look for ..."

  "I'll check them over," said Owen, "and take an inventory of whatever supplies they contain." He looked Chris up and clown, thoughtfully. "You did well back there, Chris."

  Chris was surprised at the compliment. "Thanks."

  "Burt don't underestimate Roston," Owen continued. "He let us go without giving much of a chase. My impression is that he's got a keen mind and an intimate understanding of battlefield mechanics. I believe he's testing you, feeling you out."

  "I'll keep it in mind," Chris replied, and then froze mid-thought. He regarded his friend. "Beech, you don't know this guy, do you?"

  "I've heard his name a few times. I'm vaguely aware of his reputation, and I know he's well respected among the military. But I don't know anything about him personally."

  Chris hesitated. "You're not holding out on me, are you?"

  Owen stood up to his full height. "That's a mistake I won't repeat, Commander. You have my word; you know everything about Roston that I know."

  Chris softened. All right. Let me know if you find anything on the jeeps and then try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be an awfully big day."

  Mae didn't mean to spy. She just didn't like the idea of leaving Trisha alone in such a frail condition.

  Once she'd found the room Trisha had taken-a modest bedroom with a single-sized bed and a vanity against the far wall-she took up a post just outside the door, peeking through the crack where the door hadn't quite shut all the way. There was something about what Trisha was doing that Mae found herself quite unable to look away from.

  Trisha sat at the tiny vanity, examining herself in the mirror. Mae couldn't see Trisha's face, which was blocked by the back of her head. She didn't move for the longest time, and Mae almost wondered if she'd dozed off while sitting upright. She knew people on the street who could do that.

  But Trisha moved again slowly, locating a hairbrush in the vanity's drawer. Never taking her eyes off of herself, she unhurriedly stroked the brush through her dark brown hair. Her hair was so disheveled and unkempt, it made for rough work. Several times Trisha stopped to pull out tangles. But she continued, slowly, methodically. It was a ritual, Mae realized.

  When she was satisfied, Trisha set the brush aside and rummaged through the drawer again. Finding something Mae couldn't see, she set it out but then rose to her feet and walked across the room to a connected bathroom. Mae ducked out of sight in the hallway to keep Trisha from seeing her as she passed by. When Trisha returned, she had a wet terry-cloth washrag in her hands. She reseated herself at the vanity and took a great deal of time scrubbing her face with the rag. When she pulled it away from her face, Mae could see the dirt that it had collected.

  Next, Trisha took the object she'd earlier set out and stuck her fingers inside it. They came out with a white cream of some kind on them, and she massaged it across her face.

  Trisha abruptly stopped what she was doing and stood. She marched to the door and opened it. Mae was taken by surprise, unable to conjure up an excuse.

  Yet Trisha wasn't upset. There was a tired expression on her face, but it was not unkind. Something that wasn't quite a smile flashed across her lips, and she did something Mae didn't expect. She took her by the hand.

  Trisha guided Mae back into the room and gently pushed her shoulders down until Mae was sitting at the vanity. Mae's eyes were wide, her skin pale. She was expecting to be punished in some way.

  Trisha disappeared and then reappeared with another wet cloth. She turned Mae to one side in the tiny chair and knelt before her. Mae blinked and recoiled as Trisha traced the fresh washrag across the features of her face. With attention to detail, Trisha carefully wiped across Mae's nose, lips, around her eyes, her forehead, and cheeks. She even washed behind her ears.

  Then she stood and turned Mae to face the mirror again, standing behind her. Mae didn't give much thought to her reflection. She never had.

  Trisha examined the girl in the mirror thoughtfully. She wasn't smiling, and she hadn't said a single word since dragging Mae in here. But her features lacked their usual hard edge, and she was looking at Mae as if casually trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle.

  She grabbed the handful of thin braids in Mae's
hair and the small charms hanging from their ends. Mae immediately put a hand up to stop her, but thought twice about it, and finally relaxed, letting Trisha work. Trisha pulled out the charms and then took the time to undo her braids before picking up the brush and handing it to Mae.

  Guiding her hand, she helped Mae coax the brush through her red hair until all the kinks were worked out. Eventually she let her hand drop away, and Mae continued working at it until the outer edges of her hair fell across her ears, covering them in a pleasing way.

  Trisha leaned over Mae's shoulder, looking closer at the reflection in the mirror. She nodded. Mae didn't know what to think; she'd never seen herself like this before. It almost didn't seem real. Something about it made her heart rate increase, and she liked the sensation.

  As Trisha was examining her work, Mae slowly reached out to the container of face cream and picked it up. An innocence and wonder on her face, she held the cream high enough for Trisha to see it in the mirror.

  For the first time since they'd met, Trisha offered her a lopsided grin.

  The stars shone down on the three men as they sat out in the open on the edge of the lake, leaning back far enough to look up at them. A strong odor of saline met their noses, Lake Anahuac being unusually high in salt content; this also gave the lake a silvery sheen that reminded Chris of Mae's eyes.

  With no electricity in Anahuac, conditions were near perfect for stargazing. The beacon of light emanating from Houston obscured a significant portion of the sky, of course, but they could still see more than enough stars to make out some of their favorite constellations.

  Chris wasn't really sure how the three of them had ended up out here together, sitting on the shore. His mind snapped back to their last encounter with the void, how they'd found themselves trapped, separately, inside a hollow, hot, desert world.

  It left them so shaken, no one had managed to bring it up after deciding where to try and hide for the night.