The clear morning and dwindling trees made for easier hiking, but it did nothing for Makeda’s nerves. With fewer places to hide if a vehicle flew overhead, they’d be spotted in a minute. Moving from the higher snow-covered areas to the grassy vales helped a little. The red in Imre’s coat and her shirt didn’t stand out quite so much, and there were large boulders and juts of rocks to hunker next to if needed.
By midday, it had warmed up enough that Makeda tied the armored jacket over her shoulders like a cape and Tojo had shifted to carrying his jacket, though he kept both shirts on. Imre opened his duster, but didn’t take it off. When they rested in the shadow of a huge boulder, Makeda broke open the Buzzbuzz and gave out the caffeinated candy chews. Each of them ate it and drank the last of their bottled water with mingled regret and relief.
“How far to get to where we’re going?” Tojo’s face was red from exertion and the sun. It was clear he’d never gone on a hike like this before.
Makeda eyed his shoes, wondering how many blisters he had. She didn’t ask. She had at least one growing at the base of her left big toe. It was just as well he hadn’t told her about them if he had any. There wasn’t much she could do about them now. “I don’t know. I figure it can’t be more than ten kilometers before we hit civilization. Or, hopefully, a signal.”
“Haven’t gone this long without checking the news or my e-mail or forums in like…ever.” Imre stretched. “Or gone so long without food.”
Makeda snorted. There was a man who’d never had to scrap for his piece. She wondered what it would’ve been to have a childhood like that. Golden handcuffs. That wasn’t her story. Growing up as a poor military brat had trained Makeda to watch for opportunities, mistrust authority figures, and go hungry in silence. Her parents had worked hard for what they had. It was never enough.
“Me, either.” Tojo brightened. “But I guess I’ll have some war stories to tell my new friends over drinks.”
Somewhat amazed at Tojo’s optimism and naivety, Makeda stood. “Come on. If we’re lucky, we’ll find either shelter or a signal before dark. Pray for the signal. My team will be here to pick us up as soon as they can find us.”
She led the way again, setting a fast but not overly aggressive pace. She didn’t feel the least bit guilty about lying to them. She had no idea if her team was even still in Switzerland or if they’d moved on to Spain already. Part of her hoped they were still around and within helping distance. TechnoGalen had contacts everywhere. As soon as she got a signal, he’d be able to help. But she couldn’t say any of this to her clients.
Makeda still hadn’t put her finger on what, exactly, it was about Imre that her gut didn’t like, and Tojo didn’t need to lose his optimistic spirit. That would keep him going for a long time. Though it was true that a signal would be more help than shelter. The question was, what kind of Plan B had her team put together once the train had been attacked? Did they leave anything behind for her?
The fog crept back in by late afternoon, and the temperature dropped enough that everyone bundled back up. The sun shone in scant lances through the low-lying clouds and deepening fog. The smell of loamy earth rose around them. Every fifteen minutes of their impromptu hike, Makeda checked her comms with a subvocal update. “Still walking. It’s foggy. Where the hell are you? Galen? Saladin? Are you reading me?”
She was just about to call a halt when a stranger called it for her. “Sluta. Vem är du? Vad gör du här?” The creaky, feminine voice came out of the fog to the right. She sounded irritated.
Makeda stopped with her hand inside her coat. She waved the other two back. “Excuse me?”
“American,” the unseen woman spat. “Take your hand out of your coat slowly. I have you in my sights.”
Makeda obeyed, shifting her cybereyes to thermographic vision. A short, squat woman with a rifle pointed at them stood in the shadow of a tree, becoming part of it. She looked like a dwarf with old style cybergoggles. “We’re just passing through. Looking for a road or signal.”
“That doesn’t tell me who you are or why you’re here on my land.” The rifle, a Remington 900 from its silhouette, didn’t waver.
“There was an accident. We’re looking for help. Please.” Makeda shifted, making sure she put herself between Tojo and the gun. “We’re hungry and thirsty.”
“We can pay,” Imre added. “I have corp scrip.”
The dwarf ignored Imre. “What’s your name, schwarze?”
Makeda winced at the slur, then pushed her reaction away. It wasn’t like she’d never been insulted by bigots before. “Makeda. My name is Makeda.”
“You with the men? Willingly?” The tip of the Remington shifted towards Imre.
Makeda relaxed half a touch. If the woman was concerned with whether or not she was a prisoner, it was possible they were going to be able to get out of this without anyone dying. “Yeah. I am. I’m the one leading them out of the mountains. You might say they’re my wards.”
“You step forward, Makeda.” The rifle remained on Imre.
Tojo took half a step toward Makeda, lifting a hand to clutch at her. He froze at the clack of the Remington being cocked. “Makeda, no…”
The rifle now pointed at her and Tojo.
Makeda waved him back. “I’ll be fine. Don’t. Move. Don’t.” She pointed at each of them. “There’s a Remington 900 pointed at us. It can do a lot of damage.” She turned back to the dwarf woman. “I’m coming. Please don’t hurt them.”
As soon as the short woman came into sight through the fog, Makeda shifted to normal vision and was surprised to see how old the dwarf was. She couldn’t have been more than a meter high, her iron hair hid what color it had been in more youthful days, and her face was a mass of wrinkles—both smile and frown lines. Makeda was shocked at how old her tech was. The goggles were almost welded to the woman’s face with scar tissue. Keeping her hands up, Makeda stopped about halfway between the two sets of people. She didn’t say anything as she waited on the dwarf’s pleasure.
“If the Jap or Schwob have you captive, now’s a good time for you to let me know. I can leave them for the wildlife.” There was no hint of remorse or regret in those words.
Makeda shook her head, almost surprised at such racist terms being used so casually. “No ma’am. They really are my wards. I’d appreciate you not hurting them.” Even with her enhanced reflexes, she didn’t think she could retrieve her gun and shoot the woman before the rifle did its damage.
“Jaså. A black woman in charge of a German and an oriental guy? I’ve seen stranger things, but not by much.” The dwarf considered the three of them. “Heard there was a train accident yesterday a ways from here. You from it?” Despite the woman’s apparent old age, the rifle never wavered in her liver-spotted hands.
There was no way to tell what answer would get them what they needed. Right now, that was more important, and the dwarf woman was calm enough. “We need to get help.”
“Didn’t answer my question. I think the answer is yes. You blow it up?”
Again, Makeda shook her head. “No.” Part of her wanted to say a lot more. To beg for a Matrix connection and food and water. Self- preservation told her to keep her mouth shut. She kept her silence.
“You know who blew it up?” “No.”
The woman tilted her head. “You know why they blew it up?”
Makeda looked back at Tojo and shrugged. “I don’t know.” She thought she did, but wasn’t willing to give this stranger that kind of information.
“I really don’t like people on my property. There’s gonna be more of you, I’ll bet.”
“Please. If you give us a little food and water and maybe a Matrix connection, we’ll be gone as fast as we can go.” Makeda shivered. The sun had dipped behind the mountain, and temperature dropped fast.
The dwarf lowered her rifle, letting the tip of it dip to the ground. “My name is Vasti. If you’re fraggin’ up the corps, I guess I can give you a hand. You wouldn’t last another day
out here in the mountains. Not with the mana storms coming and the incryptids running about.” Makeda sighed in relief. “Thank you. We appreciate it. We really do.”
She would have said more, but Tojo took this moment to collapse to his knees, then face plant in the grass.
11
Makeda hunched over, whirled around, and ran to Tojo as Imre dropped to the ground. Vasti took a knee and scanned the horizon.
Leaning over Tojo, Makeda expected to hear a shot or to feel the pain of a bullet in flesh. None of that came. She scanned him for injury. There was no blood. She felt for a pulse. Strong and steady. Makeda tapped his cheek.
Tojo blinked his eyes open. “Ohayō, pretty lady.” He blinked again and sat up with a jerk. He almost smacked Makeda in the face with his head. “What happened? Where’s the woman with the gun? Did she shoot me? Am I hurt?”
“No.” Makeda frowned and touched his forehead with her inner wrist. “Did you faint?”
Tojo touched his chest and stomach, looking for a wound that wasn’t there. “No?” He didn’t sound sure of himself. “I just…I was standing, not moving like you said, and then I was looking up at you.”
Imre, still on the ground, laughed. “You locked your knees, didn’t you?”
Makeda rubbed her forehead and got up. “He fainted.”
“Blacked out due to lack of oxygen,” Imre corrected. “He locked his knees. I’ve seen it happen dozens of times in receiving lines.”
Makeda eyed him. “In other words, he fainted. I use the words I mean.”
Imre and Tojo looked at each other. Tojo shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Are we all right?” He flicked a glance at Vasti, his concern obvious.
“Other than you fainting, you’re fine. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to ask the question.” Vasti stood in a fluid motion that belied her age and hinted at internal cyberware. “Follow me. I’ll get you some food and appropriate clothing.”
That perked everyone up. “Thank you. We appreciate it.” Makeda touched her equipment, making sure it was prepped out of habit before they set off—bottle, stimulant, and gun—and missed the dozens of other things she usually carried with her.
Imre touched Makeda’s wrist, making her pause. “How do we know we can trust her?”
“We don’t. But it’s better than we have now.” She gave him a humorless smile. “Unless you’d rather stay cold and hungry, facing Awakened beasties in the dark?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Imre shrugged.
Makeda gazed ahead, watching Vasti’s back, sure the woman was listening. “C’mon. Daylight’s wasting, and we don’t know how far we need to go. Make sure Tojo keeps up, yeah?” This last was phrased as a request, but they both knew it wasn’t.
“Get a move on! Daylight’s fading.” Vasti didn’t turn around as she called behind her, though she slowed her step for them to catch up.
Imre nodded. He moved to Tojo’s side and took up the escort position as if born to it. Makeda felt that niggle of warning and doubt again, but didn’t know why. Imre did exactly what she asked him to do. Nothing more.
Vasti’s home was a rustic-looking cabin designed for a happy hermit. There was a tiny bedroom, a small washroom, and an open area that encompassed everything else—living room, kitchen, kitchen nook, and office. Everything was old school. Gas and electric and very little in the way of automation. Makeda thanked whomever was listening that the toilet was a septic system and not an outhouse.
As they made themselves comfortable, Makeda subvocalized a call out to her team. Nothing came back. The silence in her head was deafening. What had happened to her comms? Were they damaged? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, she was still on her own.
She leaned against the humming refrigerator, drinking the Joy Cola Vasti had given them. It was the nectar of the gods, sweet and bubbly.
Imre sat at the small wooden table and checked his smart glasses. “No Matrix connection?”
Vasti scoffed. “No. Nothing wireless. Not here. I’ve got jammers all over my property. I don’t want people sending in drones or anything.”
“Why not?” Tojo sat on the couch with his shoes and socks off, bandaging up his blistered feet the best he could.
“Look, tobu, it’s clear you don’t know what the real world is like, but you’re going to get an education the hard way. I’m too old to have to deal with trespassers or to deal with people from my past who want one last hoo-rah. So, no wireless. It makes people lazy. If you’re gonna make me leave my house, you’re going to have to work for it.”
The whole time Vasti grumped at them, she stood over the stove, frying up a mess of soy beefcakes. She checked on the rice from time to time. The beefy smell wafted through the small space. It was mouthwatering.
Makeda’s stomach rumbled, and she swallowed a couple of times before she pulled her thoughts together. “You’re helping us.”
“The sooner I get you out of here, the sooner no one comes on my land looking for you.”
Made sense. Makeda stepped to the counter to look at the beefcakes and get a better look at Vasti’s face. “Or you could’ve left us to the storms and the monsters.”
Vasti looked at her. “Maybe. No nuyen in that.”
It was hard to tell what the old dwarf was thinking with those implanted goggles obscuring her eyes. Makeda knew from the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth that Vasti had dropped a couple of clues that she expected Makeda to pick up. She reviewed the conversation.
Hope surged as Makeda picked up what Vasti had laid down. “Nothing wireless, but you’ve got wired comms.”
“Give the girl a prize.” Vasti pointed at a cabinet. “Get out four plates. Set the table.”
Makeda wanted to leap for joy. She was going to get to talk to her team. Her pleasure turned into surprise as she found herself reaching for a set of gorgeous blue-and-white porcelain plates. Makeda was almost afraid to touch them. “Whoa.”
“Just because I live out in the boonies doesn’t mean I live like a savage.”
“Clearly.” Imre came over to get the plates from Makeda and set the table. “Flatware?” Vasti pointed at a set of drawers. He looked through them until he found what he was looking for. Again, the flatware was of exceptional quality. With no napkins in sight, he set the forks to one side of the plates.
Makeda mulled over Vasti’s words. “No nuyen in it…” She looked up and gazed directly into those goggles. “How much did you earn from finding us?” It was disorienting to ask her twin reflections these questions, but she was sure she was right.
“A couple thousand.” Vasti’s hint of a smile became a smirk.
She considered this, watching the dwarf work. “Well, we’re not knocked out, and you wouldn’t be telling me this if it was someone who was going to hurt us.”
“Assumptions, girly.” Vasti picked up the sizzling pan of beefcakes.
She nodded at the pot of rice. “Bring it.”
“Assumptions, yes. But you wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t get anything out of it. How much is he going to pay you to let me talk to him?” Makeda knew she was on the right track as she stirred the rice, then brought it to the table. She followed her hostess’s actions and dished out equal portions of steaming food on those beautiful blue-and-white plates.
“The other half of the money.” The old woman returned the almost-empty pan to the stove. She gestured to the pot. “Just put that on the table. Won’t hurt it.”
Makeda flicked a glance at her clients. Imre and Tojo split their attention between the conversation and the food. Tojo furrowed his brow, trying to keep up. Imre kept his face in that neutral expression of polite interest.
“I’ll be able to talk to my team?”
“Yes. After we eat.” Vasti gestured to the men. “Can’t you see them boys are starving, but waiting for us? For ussländers, they got manners. So, sit and eat.”
Makeda glanced around the table. Both Imre and Tojo s
at in their assigned seats with untouched plates. She ducked her head as she sat and picked up her fork. That was the signal to dig in. For the next few minutes, the only sounds were forks to the plate and the mmms of enjoyment. Makeda was no exception.
After eating and drinking so much real, rich food, it was a relief to get back to the kind of food Makeda was used to. Comforting, really. Going almost a full day of exertion without eating added to the enjoyment, but there was nothing like the tastes of home, and soy beefcakes were a favorite.
“I don’t think I’ve tasted beefcakes this good before.” Imre scooped more rice to his plate to sop up the leftover gravy and juices.
Tojo nodded with a “Mmm-hmm.”
“There’s plenty of water. All of you can get cleaned up. I think I’ve got a practical shirt you can wear—have—Makeda. The rest of you are on your own. I don’t keep extra men’s clothing around.” Vasti shrugged. “Not a hotel or a hostel.”
“Even if you can be hostile from time to time?” Makeda grinned at her. She was sure she had the dwarf’s measure. Giving as good as she got was the right way to act with Vasti. Backbone and a thick skin were needed. She had no doubt that Vasti had once been a shadowrunner. Maybe even before they were known as shadowrunners.
Vasti grinned back. “If you had to deal with pflock like you, you’d be hostile, too.” She cleared her plate and began to clean up the kitchen.
“May I help you with the dishes?” Imre stood and brought his cleaned plate to the sink.
“Nope. You can go take a shower. You smell like a gym locker.” Vasti wrinkled her nose for emphasis.
Imre bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped outside to take his boots and socks off before he returned and headed to the bathroom.
Once the shower started up, Vasti tapped Makeda’s arm. “You got a datajack, yeah?”
Makeda nodded.
“I’m gonna let you talk to your guy, TechnoGalen, but I’m going to monitor the conversation. Make it quick.” She looked toward the bathroom. “I don’t trust Herr Döufu. Germans. You can’t trust them. They’ve always got a second reason for everything they do.”
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