“Accessing…” Aero said amongst more beeps. “Yes, there are a couple of motor carriages in there; one is an experimental convertible unit that may be our best chance.”
“Well experimental is my middle name!” said Jesse excitedly.
“Your middle name is Elliot, Mr. Winthrope.”
“It’s a… never mind… Aero, right?”
Aero nodded as Jenny looked distraught, the thought of leaving so soon after she arrived was exhausting.
“There will be nowhere safe for us to hide within Diablo,” Jesse said, noticing her appearance. “The tower has likely broadcast our names and likenesses across the entire area by now. Plus, it’s not like I can go many places and not be noticed. We must do this. I can stay in touch with –”
A gunshot rang out, the bullet striking Aero in the shoulder. It sparked upon impact, but the damage was minimal. Aero looked in the direction the shot was fired and saw a ranger preparing to fire again. Launching a few non-lethal strikes his way, the ranger was taken out of commission.
“We have lingered too long,” said Aero, “neither of you can stay, nor can I now. But, where do we go from here?”
“Let’s go,” Jesse suggested. “We can mull on that once we are out of here.”
“Jesse, we can drive it east!” Jenny said excitably. “Aftershock’s out there. I know where to go.”
The Rangers were arriving, the first starting to trickle in though the entrances.
“We are out of time,” Aero said, and a compartment unfolded in his forearm. He reached inside and removed a pair of goggles with some extremely dull lenses. Ripping them in half, he held them out. “Take these and use them to follow.”
“Follow what?” Jenny asked.
“Me.”
Suddenly, from within Aero, there was a tremendous burst of smoke and steam. Jenny shrieked as it flew forward, filling the room with a haze that was so thick it was impossible to see anything more than a half-meter ahead.
Disoriented, Jesse raised the goggle half in his hand to his eye and surprisingly, he could see! Not like he normally would, nor very clearly, but the faint lines around Aero’s body that had appeared black were now glowing with a faint blue light through the glass.
“Jenny!” called Jesse.
“I got it!” she replied.
“Excellent!” said Aero as he charged toward the garage, unseen by the Rangers now mired in the haze. “Follow me!”
A LARGE FOUR-WHEELED motor carriage ripped around the corner, sending people screaming and diving in all directions to avoid getting run over while its wheels skidded harshly on the bumpy cobblestone. The eccentric thing flew down the streets like a bullet, its wide passenger cab and sleek, silver lines tapering to two large lamps at the front.
“I seem to have lost our pursuers,” Aero said, maintaining the high speed.
“Is it broken?” Jenny asked over a horrendous noise.
Aero made another daring swerve, missing a monger but crashing through his market stall, sending a rain of cheese splattering around the area.
“I’ll pay you back for those!” Jesse shouted over the unique chittering noise from under the hood. Turning attention back to Jenny he told her, “It’s nothing to worry about… just the sound of this particular steam engine. The old dirigible-styled airships make a noise just like it.”
“I’m not so sure that reassures me,” she responded, tossed around as the carriage rushed across several potholes. “You’d think the core boroughs wouldn’t have any missing pavers!”
“You’re correct in that statement, Miss Boone; we aren’t in the core anymore,” Aero replied calmly, his chest bearing slight electrical burns from their garage escape (courtesy of a ranger trying to short circuit him with a bo prod). “The holding cells are actually in Carcel, close to the western edge of the city.”
“So, when we get out of here,” Jesse took over, “we’re going to have to loop around the city – taking a wide berth – to head toward your contact out east.”
“That is if we get there,” Jenny said. “We have company!”
Two monocycles and their riders had rejoined the chase, their colossal tires churning up the debris left Winthrope’s wake while plumes of chugging steam were left in their own.
One of the drivers leaned to the side, wasting no time now that they were back in his sights. Firing his gun, the bullets struck the back window, right in front of Jenny’s face. She screamed, yet the glass held and did not shatter.
“Who’s vehicle is this?” she asked, swiping a finger across the jagged but intact areas where the bullets impacted.
“I’ve no idea,” Jesse answered, “but I certainly want to get my hands on one after all this is straightened out!”
Another hail bullets struck and Aero flung the car down a narrow side street to evade, then again onto a main thoroughfare. Trash was thrown everywhere and more people leapt for their lives as the riders followed relentlessly through the zigzag of streets.
“They’re still coming!” Jenny said, watching them weave past a smattering of grape crates Aero had just plowed through.
She was half-listening to Jesse – shouting at Aero about driving through a saloon next to complete his bill for the most expensive wine, fruit and cheese plate ever – while also observing their pursuers.
The closest rider pressed a large green button on one of his levers and his cycle suddenly sprang forward, closing the gap quickly. Pulling a different lever, a couple of armatures popped out from the front of the unit and began to drop, folding out like the arms of a praying mantis. They latched onto a space between the bumper and chassis and the car shuddered greatly.
Applying his brakes, the rider forced Winthrope’s vehicle to slow down, allowing the second monocycle catch up and do the same.
“We’re slowing down too much,” Jesse muttered, hoping Aero had a plan formulating in that bot brain of his.
“Brace yourselves,” Aero replied.
“Wait… what?” Jesse wasn’t expecting anything so soon.
A split second later, Aero turned the wheel hard left and the whole grouping of carriage and cycles spun.
The first cycle hit the corner of a clockwork parts store, splintering into a shower of gears, metal, and wood. The second was hanging on tightly, its rider firing nonstop at the reinforced glass.
Aero spun the wheel in the other direction, takin the carriage precariously close to the building walls. Luckily for them, as they turned the cycle struck hard against an iron barricade, sending parts scattering all up and down the street. The largest fragment – the steam engine – cartwheeled overhead and took out the doors of a saloon.
Jesse tried not to think about the damage inside, instead opting to stare intently at Aero.
“You didn’t hear a word I said about that, did you?”
Jenny would have laughed, but a bracing thought overwhelmed her.
“Gentlemen, not to put a damper on our escape, but given all this commotion won’t the officials have the gates blocked?”
Jesse’s expression went from sour to pale in the blink of an eye and as if in answer, when they rounded Sunset Boulevard the large doors of the western gatehouse were barred and a line of Rangers were ready to stop their advance.
Aero made another harsh turn down a side street, the carriage jostling harshly as the road was not meant for vehicles. The good news was there were no Rangers down this way. The bad news was the city wall was coming right at them.
“Aero, didn’t you say this thing was a convertible?” Jenny asked with frantic haste. “What does it convert to?”
“I didn’t get a chance to look,” Aero said calmly. “I used the technical manual to beat the ranger that shocked me. Then it caught fire and burned to a cinder.”
“Which is what will happen to us if we don’t do something!” Jesse bellowed as he looked around for anything that would help.
Aero found a button marked with an ornate C and pressed it, the vehicle starting to
hum promisingly before…
The roof flew off and crashed behind them.
With the wall approaching fast, Jenny and Jesse reached for each other and embraced while Aero continued to look for a solution.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, flipping a switch that was engraved with three small letters: FLT.
Then, from the back, a large propeller-like engine emerged and wings sprouted from beneath and the sides like some graceful mechanical butterfly. Moments later, the motor carriage took flight and rose, higher and higher, until they barely crested the walls.
Jesse looked behind as they soared away.
Winthrope Limited, his family’s crowning achievement, seemed to weep as sunlight danced across the windows of the building. He then looked to Diablo itself as Aero banked starboard for the long loop back east. From that height, the city looked like a segmented clock, the intricate swirls formed by streets entangled with patterns formed by the rooftops, all set within more complex shapes made by interior walls, decorative features like the sundial of Grayson Market, and more.
Now, it was his turn to weep, and wiping tears from his eyes he apologized for leaving the steam powered city in the clutches of a cold man named Frost.
DUSK WAS CREEPING across the land, Aftershock’s mountain camp beneath a sky full of wheeling stars wrapped in a purplish hue. The blue of moonlight mingled with the red of a campfire burning at the crest of the northernmost peak, while spread out on the plains below were no less than a dozen other pinpricks of flickering crimson. Two dark figures huddled around the sputtering flames, light dancing across Aftershock’s tired features. As he sat quietly scratching his beard, the other figure sitting across from him was looking out intensely at the surrounding vista.
The handsome man was named Wyatt Jameson – widely known as Lobo – and he was younger than Aftershock, but not by much. Their beards on the other hand were vastly different; where Aftershock’s was thick and bushy, his was far shorter, thinner, and neater. A pair of large silver goggles were resting on top of his head, flattening his short black hair, and across his chest and arms were colorful tattoos. There was a leather pauldron strapped over one of his shoulders, gauntlet over a forearm, and across his back, a pipe rifle etched with a handmade pattern.
“You look like you’re about to bust something in your brain thinking so hard, Lobo. Cog for your thoughts?” said Aftershock lowly.
“Huh?” the man replied, shifting focus to Aftershock. From his torn denims, an artificial leg studded with spikes and painted skulls gleamed in the firelight. “Oh. It’s nothing really. Just wondering if I’m good enough for this. Things are changing so damn fast.”
“Good enough for what? Leading the Devil’s Shadow or…”
“Yeah that,” Lobo replied quickly, plucking off one of the glass vials he had strapped across his upper left arm. He took a sip, his lips curling back over his teeth. “I’m sitting here wondering if I rushed into this. Someone like you should be in this position; not me. Hell, me just talking to you about this kind of thing shows I’m not fit to lead.”
“It tells me the exact opposite, Lobo,” Aftershock said, looking down at the campfires below. “It’s a challenge no doubt, but the fact you realize you have imperfections is something half the clan leaders out there would never admit, the other half too dumb to realize.
“That gives you strength for this, since you know that you have to work for what you want and even harder still to keep it.” He paused, seeing Lobo ease up a bit. “That said, I wouldn’t talk too openly about it…plenty out there are looking for things to exploit. I’m a testament to that mistake. Keep it inside, knowing it, and owning it.”
“Yeah that’s why I feel comfortable talking only to you about it brother, especially since getting to know you over the last month. That was a bad situation for you and your blood. Not sure I would’ve made it.” Lobo took another sip, offering some to Aftershock.
“I got stronger waiting for me once the others return with grub,” he replied, waving it off.
“Suit yourself,” Lobo answered by taking another swig.
“Besides, I’ll leave the drinking of that lutrine spittle to you.”
“Hey, I told you that there’s only a couple of drops in this liquor! Keeps me looking young, fit, and with hair.”
Aftershock’s eyes narrowed and suddenly he looked ready to punch him in the throat.
“If looks could kill, right?” Lobo smirked.
“If only! At least I know how to grow a proper beard,” Aftershock laughed, slipping back to a serious look shortly after. His fingers were restless. “Lobo, I wouldn’t be around to offer any of these opinions had you not stepped in back at Pitchfork…”
“Nothing to it. I saw a brother in need, one that took care of that menace we called a chief. Didn’t have a second thought about vouching for you before the others cut your head off.”
“Technically, it was Jenny that took care of Dante…”
“True, but either way, you have my respect. That’s something that’s long been missing in this clan.”
“You got mine too, and my loyalty. I don’t forget where I’ve been or who’s helped my needy ass along the way.”
“Ah, yes, loyalty. I value that a lot; it’s a core principle for me. Don’t have it and your words are nothing but sounds and letters falling out of your mouth – empty and better left unsaid so you can keep your lungs full of breath.”
Aftershock was beaming.
“And here it was, you were doubting yourself not ten minutes ago. Sounds like everything is as it should be.”
“Hope it is,” said Wyatt, popping the now empty vial back into its slot on his arm band.
The sound of crunching soil and murmuring rose over the cracking wood, both raiders turning to see three shapes – two men and a woman – coming around the corner.
“Ah there you are!” Aftershock boomed. “Finally, and just in the nick of time. Was about to lop off ol’ Lobo’s other leg for a bite.”
Jenny was in front of the others, carrying two plates loaded with fresh beef, potatoes, and some greens. There was even a slice of cornmeal bread.
“Hey now,” she retorted, smiling heavily, “you could have just as easily drug yourself down there with us.”
“Nah, was too comfortable up here on these hard rocks. Plus, my friend here makes for good conversation.”
Jenny smiled, walking toward Aftershock to hand him a plate, but Jesse cut in front of her and handed him one of the two he was carrying.
“There you go,” he said wearing a thin smile in the trembling light. One of the logs in the fireplace fell awkwardly, sending a plume of sparks and flames into the air. “I’m sure it tastes just as good so be sure to enjoy it.”
Jesse was having some trouble adjusting to Aftershock, appreciative of his efforts in saving Jenny but something else was digging in his craw. Jenny liked to assume it was because they were both so similar in nature and it clashed at times, but her gut was far blunter, suggesting it was because Aftershock chose to walk around without a shirt all the time and was in no way a traditionally hideous raider as expected.
As Jesse continued toward Lobo to give him his food, Jenny slid her eyes over to Aftershock with a repentant shrug of her shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind, shaking his head coolly before shoveling meat into his mouth, its savory drippings wetting his beard.
Aero brought up the rear, carrying two pails full of long-lasting dried goods to place in the cave’s compartments. Lobo eyed the bot’s synthetic arms as he worked, wondering if his legs were of the same design.
“Hey, Jesse,” he said, in part out of curiosity but also to diffuse the tension, “are those things expensive?”
Jesse was taking a seat next to him, Jenny handing him the plate originally meant for Aftershock, and answered, “Bots? Older editions aren’t too much, finding their way into alternative uses and piece parts. But one like Aero there is unique. I’ve never seen one like him.”
> Lobo popped a wedge of potato in his mouth and chewed loudly.
“How about one of those legs?”
“I think it was about two-hundred Gears,” Jesse answered.
“Just for the leg, eh? Never mind that!” Lobo said, giving his own artificial leg a thumb with his utensil. “I could buy a whole lot of shit for that kind of money.”
“Hopefully it’s good quality shit,” Aftershock added and laughter made its way around the camp fire, even from Jesse.
“Well ladies and gents, I hate to be the one to talk business while we eat,” said Lobo unhappily, “but now’s as good a time as any. The Pack down there is starting to show signs of getting restless. I’ll make sure that the Shadows are here for the long haul, but if we don’t act soon – whatever that may be – we are going to lose that entire clan’s support.”
Grumbling and murmurs filled the air.
“I wish we could just pay them,” Jesse said as he let his fork drop on the plate. “That would make all of this so much easier.”
“It would for sure,” Lobo replied, “but that’s kind of the reason we have them here in the first place.”
Aftershock and Jesse nodded in reluctant agreement but Jenny had apparently missed that part of the conversation over the last two weeks.
“Sorry, but why would that be the case? I’d think anyone out here would want the money. Send it my way if not.”
Aftershock chuckled.
“Normally that’s the case,” he said, “but for raiders it’s an honor thing. Yes, money is plundered and people end up killed, but in a weird sort of way, they end up earning the spoils. It’s not just given, which any true-blooded raider would take as an insult.”
“Seems the Vipers were playing dirty,” Lobo continued, using his fork to move his veggies around, “and the Pack found out about it. You see, there were whispers about two, maybe three months ago that their clan confirmed. Some city-dweller had plans to build himself an army. For what end game we don’t know, but an army is normally used for one thing.”
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