by Bev Prescott
# # #
Following the remnants of obsolete roads destroyed during the last two world wars, they sped south and then east along what had been Interstate 80. Crumbling pavement pocked by bombs or swallowed in large sections by ravenous weedy vegetation marked the route. Like stone walls built by European settlers centuries ago, the ramshackle roads left traces of a long-dead civilization.
Instead of sleeping during the more than five hours of travel, Inu scribbled on a page of the sketchbook. He’d tucked the other pages into the satchel.
A ribbon of fiery orange nicked the eastern horizon behind them. The clock on the dash read 6:10 a.m. Even though the bike’s controls kept the temperature inside the dome a comfortable 20⁰C, outside the heat already measured thirty-two and climbing. Much of the Great Plains, and everything west of the Rockies, had morphed with climate change into desert. The land between the Great Lakes and the Gulf of Mexico, meanwhile, turned hot and tropical. Violent storms, orders of magnitude more powerful than had ever been recorded in history, lashed the region in all seasons. People nicknamed the place Gaia’s Wrath. Dark heavy clouds loomed in the distant western horizon. There was no other way to get from NONA’s east coast to its capital city, Chicago, but through Gaia’s Wrath.
“Inu, we’re just east of State College by a few kilometers. Help me look for a spot to land. Someplace we can hide the bike and find cover.” Sharon pointed at the sky. “Storm’s coming. And we’ll run out of power if we don’t stop soon.”
The boy folded the sketch he was working on and tucked it into his duffel of scavenged loot. He turned his attention to the landscape below.
“Be on the lookout for people, too. There aren’t many around here anymore. The storms are too unpredictable. But there’s water, which means they’ll travel for it. We can’t risk running into anyone.”
“Por favor.” He pointed.
Her eyes followed his direction to a clearing in the brush. “Good eye.” She veered right and hovered over a barren patch of pavement with clumps of vegetation growing through cracks here and there. She thought it must have once been a parking lot. The remnants of a lopsided building almost obliterated by vines and thick brush stood its ground at the edge of the smattering of concrete. Impenetrable vegetation surrounded the ruin as far as the eye could see.
“Looks like an old highway rest area. Let’s check it out. As long as no one’s down there, that’s where we’ll sleep.” A thicket of brush made it impossible to land close to the building, or the parking lot. “We’ll have to find a clear spot to land and then make our way on foot through the brush.” Sharon pressed a button on the bike’s GPS to store the coordinates for the rest area.
She turned her craft away from the building, dropped in elevation, and spotted what might have been an old building foundation. Her GPS indicated they were ninety-one meters from the rest area structure. “There, probably the foundation of an old shed or storage building. That’s a good spot.”
Easing the steering grips into the down position, she hovered the bike lower until it touched ground with a soft bump. Before shutting down the engine, Sharon watched the bike’s infrared sensors for any signs of humans in the area. Since large mammals had been hunted to extinction during the War of Earth’s Rebellion, humans were the only predators of concern.
Little dots of red light flitted to and fro across the screen. “No signs of humans,” she said. “But lots of rodents. We’ll catch one for breakfast.” Speaking into the voice command module she said, “Power down and store coordinates.” The rotors, protected by the rotor guard beneath the bike, slowed to a stop. She removed the bike’s GPS chip.
Assessing their surroundings, she took in the green that ensconced them. Except for a clump of soft moss growing over a patch of concrete not far from the bike, the vegetation looked mean and angry. Thorns protruded from scabrous branches everywhere. “The good news is that anyone trying to make their way through this stuff to get us would have to go through a meat grinder. The bad news is that we have to.” She pointed at the tangle of thorny brush. “Stay close behind me so you don’t get shredded.”
Inu held up a finger.
“What?”
He reached into his duffel and retrieved a sheath less than half a meter long. A black handle protruded from it. Inu gripped the handle and slid a machete from it.
Sharon nodded and smiled. “I had a feeling you could be trusted to know which stuff to take from that Banditti van. What else you got in there?”
Turning the machete around without touching its blade, he handed the grip end to Sharon. Then he fumbled in the duffel and retrieved a NONA-issued extreme weather blanket sealed in its original packaging.
She recognized it because it was the same blanket her brother, Jon, had been issued when he was a soldier.
Inu smiled back at her.
“Nice work.” Sharon flipped the switch to the canopy. When it popped open, a rush of soupy hot air snuffed out the comfort of the bike’s interior. She sucked in a breath thick with humidity. “Holy hell, it’s hot.” A bolt of lightning flashed a distant jagged line in the sky. “We better hurry.”
Sharon placed the machete at her feet, and tucked the GPS into her pocket. She removed her helmet, unclasped her seat belt, and stepped from the bike. “Let me help you.” She freed Inu from his helmet and seat belt and lifted him down.
Inu shoved the blanket back into the duffel and lifted its shoulder strap over his head. In the few minutes it was exposed to the outside temperature, his hair matted into clumpy wet strands.
“We have to drink some water soon.” Sharon hoisted the backpack onto her back, picked up the machete, and shut the canopy. “I have an air moisture extractor in my pack. There’s plenty of water we can pull from this humid air. As long as we can find food and make water, we won’t touch the reserves I packed.” A bead of sweat slid down the middle of her back. Her clothing got damper by the second.
Another jagged crack of light flashed in the sky followed by a tremendous boom that shook the ground. She could smell the sweet, sharp scent of ozone stirred up by the winds. “The storm’s getting closer.” Sharon raised the machete and slashed through the wall of bullying vegetation. A gusty wind blew against her wet clothes, cooling her skin. She swung the heavy knife harder through the brush, looking back frequently to check on the boy.
Inu kept close as the western sky filled in around them, turning to an ominous greenish-black.
The storm’s pressure pushed in on Sharon’s chest. But for the cracks and booms that got closer and louder, an eerie quiet began to replace the rattle of the wind through the brush. Sharon debated whether to go back to the bike or keep going toward the shelter of the rest area building. On balance, the storm would be a factor regardless of her choice. At least the shelter option didn’t involve the possibility of crashing if the bike didn’t have enough power to outrace the storm. She pushed on faster through the brush as it nicked and sliced her exposed skin, hoping that by breaking a trail for Inu, he’d be safe from the unforgiving thorns.
Mercifully, the brush gave way to the small clearing at the decrepit rest area building. The destination looked a lot less inviting up close. Only three walls and part of the roof remained. The crush of vines and brush that seemed to be swallowing it whole were actually keeping it propped up. Sharon shuddered at the reality that Earth, when angered, could be a monster that easily chewed and devoured the things made by humans.
Before taking a step closer, she froze at the sight of the approaching blackness. Strands of rain twisted down from the base of a long, horrible anvil-shaped cloud that was clearly on its way to becoming a tornado. It had them in its sights. Sharon opened Inu’s duffel, returned the machete to its sheath, and zipped the bag shut. She’d take her chances with the thorns over running from a wind storm with a machete in hand. Even though the building had managed to stay on its feet through years of storms, she had no confidence they could hold onto its thorny tangle of walls and not be
sucked up into the center of the tornado that bore down on them. “We can’t stay here. Run.” She tugged him in the opposite direction.
Rain caught up to them as they slashed and tumbled through the brush toward the bike. The ground quaked as the storm roared at their heels. A gust of wind ripped Inu’s hand from her grasp. Sharon spun around and grabbed him up in her arms. “Tuck your head against my shoulder!” she yelled over the wind and rain, as she shielded him as best she could from being sliced by thorns or hit by debris.
Lightning slammed into the ground ten meters to their right. The thicket exploded into fire. Sharon risked a look over her shoulder. The monster tornado stretched across the sky behind them as far as she could see. “Hold onto me, Inu!” She ran harder, her heart pounding almost as loud as the storm.
The bike’s profile through the tumult of rain came into view. “Just a little farther.” She labored under the combined weight of the pack on her back and the boy with his duffel in her arms. Her chest ached and seemed to constrict under the exertion. Panting through the pain, she hugged him closer and kept moving to stay ahead of the storm.
“Holy hell?” Sharon stopped in her tracks as the patch of moss she’d noticed earlier popped open. “It’s a trapdoor over a shelter!”
A rain-soaked woman beckoned to her from the opening in the ground. Another crack of lightning, way too close.
Inu clung tighter to Sharon.
She looked from the woman to her bike. The bike shook and shuddered sideways. Her ears ached with the roar of the storm. Fuck. No choice.
The woman’s mouth moved in a shout she couldn’t hear through the chaos. Sharon raced toward her.
Her features came into view as she reached for Inu. The thin brown-skinned woman with snow-white hair took Inu from her and descended.
Sharon followed her down the steps to safety. As she gripped the handle of the moss-covered trapdoor to close it over them, the monster yanked her bike up into its fury. She screamed almost as loud as the storm, but no scream, no curse, no prayer was going to get the tornado to release her bike. Panting, she shut the door over herself, Inu, and the stranger. How the hell do I get to Chicago now?
Chapter 5
Sharon gripped the handle on the inside of the trapdoor. The tornado screaming overhead rattled it back, mocking her. Even if I have to crawl, I’ll get to you, Eve. She slammed a fist against the door in defiance of the storm.
A slurry of blood, rain, and sweat smeared her hands and drenched her clothing. On top of the throbbing from injuries inflicted by the NONA soldier and Mags, a searing pain shot up through ribbons of bare flesh sliced by thorns. Her waterlogged clothing threatened to drag her down the steps into the space below. She ached to collapse.
A woman’s voice, strong but gravel-edged by age, ordered, “Come down the stairs. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
Sharon turned in the narrow portal and carefully stepped down each rusty rung into the musty chamber. A problem more immediate than the loss of her bike demanded her full attention. The storm had deposited her and Inu into an odd lair that lifted the hairs at the back of her neck. She could feel Inu’s eyes on her, but kept hers locked with their captor’s.
A rusty, mangled yellow door that looked like it belonged to an old school bus was propped against the wall. Remnants of children’s clothing were draped over the door. It begged the question, where were the kids that used to wear them?
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Sharon said. “When the storm passes, we’ll leave.”
Their rain-drenched savior stood behind a heavy wooden desk streaked by a fading walnut stain. Spheres of mold dotted the creases in the wood. A scuffed plastic apple perched on the front left corner of the desk. On the right, a small bouquet of wilting yellow wildflowers was stuffed into a glass of cloudy water.
The woman, finger poised on the trigger of a loaded crossbow, said, “Slowly take a seat.” She wore a frayed cotton T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The words Property of Clearwater Middle School were spelled out over the chest. Scars zigzagged over her bare arms. A rope cinched baggy dungarees at her bony waist.
Sharon held up her hands. “Okay.” Her eyes scanned the room. Twenty school desks in various stages of disrepair occupied the greater part of the old woman’s underground den. Spaced into five rows of four, the hodgepodge of desks appeared to be relics from various eras. Sharon recognized the stand-up type workspace with built-in computers she had used as a young girl. There were also some vintage wood laminate-topped desks with attached seats from the late 20th century. Inu sat at a workstation with a cracked computer screen. Use, time, flooding, and battering marred the desks.
In the back of the room, a cot rested next to an enormous bookcase filled with mildewed volumes published before electronic books replaced paper. Geology, math, classic stories, biology, history, the books ran the gamut. Stuffed mammals and birds cluttered the top of the case. Tacked with pushpins, yellowed and frayed drawings decorated the walls. A photograph of smiling kids mugging for the camera hung above the cot. Wrapped over the small bed was a NONA-issued blanket, the same as the one Inu had pilfered from the Banditti van.
A single fluorescent lightbulb plugged into a solar battery lit the room. A large digital whiteboard hung from the wall behind the old woman. On the small table near the cot, steam wafted from a pot over a hot plate, also plugged into the battery. Next to the table was a hard plastic cabinet with double doors.
Sharon shot a glance at Inu sitting motionless. Good boy. She dropped her pack from her shoulders, and wedged into the tight space between the seat and nearest desk. “We won’t hurt you. We’re just passing through. Once the storm is gone, we’ll be on our way.”
“Both of you, put your bags atop a desk where I can see them,” the woman ordered.
“Please.” Sharon displayed her empty hands. “I lost my bike and still have a long way to go. We can’t make it without the little bit of food and supplies in our bags.”
“I’m not interested in your tchotchkes. Anyone desperate enough to go through Gaia’s Wrath can’t be trusted. So that means you.” Keeping the crossbow’s arrow trained on Sharon, she dropped into the high-backed chair behind the desk. “And stop looking at me like I’m a crazy person.”
“I’m sorry. I just lost my bike. If I look a certain way, it’s because of the shock of it,” Sharon lied. “I’m curious, though. What is this place? Are there others around, and did this used to be the school?”
Sorrow flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Some days, it’s my comfort. Other days, my punishment.” The woman tipped her head toward a desk. “Mostly, it’s me stuck at a lonely moment. Bags on the table. Now.”
Inu glanced up at Sharon. His skin was pale and his teeth chattered.
Sharon turned her eyes from the cold, wet boy to the woman.
Her bony finger stayed poised next to her weapon’s trigger guard. She shot a sympathetic glance at Inu and then resumed the showdown with Sharon.
Taking a chance on the woman’s spark of empathy for Inu, Sharon reached for his hand. “He’s cold. Please don’t take our things.”
A breath of frustration blew from the woman’s lips. “Do I look like a person not able to make hard decisions?”
“You look like a survivor to me. I don’t know what your story is, but you’re no Banditti. You’ll hurt us if you have to. But I don’t think you want to.”
“I’ll tell you what.” The woman moved her finger to the trigger. “You’re trying my patience, petulant woman.”
“Please!” Inu shot from his seat and put an arm in front of Sharon.
The woman flinched as if Inu’s act of selflessness inflicted pain on her.
“Please,” he said, more quietly.
“No, no, no.” The woman lowered the weapon. “No, honey, I won’t hurt your mom. Not ever. I just don’t want her to hurt me.”
Inu slipped a hand into Sharon’s and turned to face her. “Please,” he said as he paused befor
e reaching into her open jacket. “Please.”
Sharon touched the top of his head. “It’s okay.”
Inu removed her hammer from its baldric and placed it on the desk.
“I’m sorry for scaring your son,” the woman said. “Just can’t be too careful these days. I truly don’t want your things.”
Sharon thought it best to let the old woman think Inu was hers. She squeezed his hand. “Who are you? And why did you help us?”
“My name is Annie Wade. Who are you?”
“I’m Sharon. And this is Inu.”
The woman flipped on the crossbow’s safety and let the weapon dangle from the strap over her chest. “I don’t want anything from you. I just couldn’t watch another child die in a storm.” A faraway look flashed across her face as if she’d remembered something awful. “I’ve watched too many humans ripped apart in Gaia’s Wrath. Protecting children is my life’s work.” She reached for Inu. “May I?”
Sharon got up and put her arms around Inu to shield him.
“I know what it looks like.” Annie rose and gestured around the room. “But I’m really not crazy. If I was crazy, I wouldn’t know it one way or the other. Crazy makes one oblivious. Unfortunately, I’m not oblivious.” She sighed. “I have a salve that I made of witch hazel and chokeberry root. You really need to put some on those cuts. The thorns up there”—she tipped her head up toward the ceiling, above which the storm raged and roared—“transmit sporotrichosis. Nasty, nasty stuff.”
Given how much the cuts on Sharon’s hands and face burned, Inu had to be in agony from the big one on his cheek. Plus, the kid was shivering violently, ramming his chest against her. “Thank you for helping us. I need to get the boy his blanket.” She reached for his duffel.