by M. R. Forbes
“Come on you greppers,” she heard Grimly shouting. “Come to daddy.”
The sound of human and trife feet was loud on the top of the truck, the hissing of the creatures audible as they overwhelmed the Scrappers. She couldn’t see the fighting, but she could hear the dying hisses of the demons, and the painful screams of the humans.
Ghost was out there. Was he still alive? As long as Grimly was still cursing, she hoped so. If the Oversergeant was killed? It would be better if none of her captors survived.
“Geez, what the hell is that?” she heard Mable say.
The statement drew her attention to where the driver was looking, a little further off and to the right. Natalia looked back at the tracker, her heart nearly stopping.
A second trife force was coming their way from the east.
“Ghost!” she shouted. “East!”
She didn’t know if he heard her or not. She looked back up at the incoming creatures. They were larger than the first group. Larger than any trife she had seen. They were nearly three meters tall, wide and powerful. The lead creature left the ground, jumping toward them. She tracked it the entire way until it landed directly in front of the transport. It threw its long arm out at the windshield; thick claws bent into a semi-fist as it struck the glass.
A small crack appeared.
“Oh, shit,” Mable said. “Grep me.”
She threw the truck into reverse, starting to hit the pedal.
“What are you doing?” Natalia said as they began to shift backward.
“I’m getting the grep out of here. Screw this.”
The large trife jumped onto the front of the truck, throwing its fist at the windshield again.
The crack got larger.
Then a large shape hit the creature, knocking it away. Grimly rolled to his feet in front of the truck, looking back into it.
“You stop grepping moving right now, or I will kill you!” the Oversergeant shouted.
Mable took her foot off the gas, putting up her hands. Grimly turned back to the trife, sidestepping its claws and jabbing his spear into its chest. It shuddered from the shock and crumpled to the ground.
“Get to your vehicles, now!” Grimly shouted. “We need to make a break for the bunker.”
“We can’t outrun them,” one of the Scrappers said.
“Mable, go,” Grimly said, sticking his face up to the cracked windshield as he climbed back on. “Haito, cover us once we’re clear. Sweetie, you and me. One day.” He licked the glass in front of Natalia before vanishing back on the roof.
The transport started moving forward again. They were still on rough terrain, and driving through it with any speed was going to be a major challenge. Mable did her best, the truck’s engine roaring as it sped forward, crushing the dead trife beneath its wheels.
Natalia moved away from the front as they cleared the ravine, looking out the slits in the side of the transport, trying to find Ghost. There were trife all around them, large and small, and she was surprised to see the bigger ones were attacking both the Scrappers and the other trife. It was giving them the break they needed, reducing the pressure on the remaining soldiers. She had no idea how many were still alive, but she was sure it wasn’t a lot.
The turrets on top of the truck started to thump again as they cleared the ditch, firing round after round, Haito rotating them in every direction. A stream of death met the demons, cutting them to ribbons and allowing the convoy to break free.
Mable continued to speed up, driving the truck wildly over the terrain. It bounced hard, rocking and rolling. Natalia saw one of the Scrappers fall off, rolling on the ground and getting up, running toward the truck before a trife jumped on his back and removed his head. She was thrown away from the side and to the floor as the vehicle skipped off a rock, shaking hard and heavy.
She got to her knees, looking back out of the windshield. She could see the glint of metal in the failing light, the bunker coming up ahead of them. They didn’t have that much further to go.
The seconds passed like hours. Her heart hurt from pulsing so hard for so long. The sound of fighting lost its intensity, the trife falling behind or pausing to kill their competition. They made it to more steady ground and charged ahead, crossing the line where the first trife had fallen as though they had won a race.
The doors to the bunker began to slide aside as they neared, stopping at the halfway point. The transport entered first, rumbling onto a cement floor inside the steel building, pulling off to the side to allow the other vehicles in. She heard their engines echoing in the enclosed space, and then she heard more gunfire and the doors beginning to close.
She stood up, looking out the slits. She could see one of the other Scrapper cars right next to her, a trio of soldiers on it.
“I hate those buggers,” Mable said, entering the rear from the cockpit. She was sweaty all over, but her clothes were especially damp near her groin. “Yeah, I pissed myself. So what?”
Natalia didn’t answer. The big woman hit a switch on the side of the truck, and the hydraulics for the side door activated, moving the armor out of the way so they could disembark. She climbed out ahead of Natalia, leaning over and vomiting when she made it to the floor.
Natalia jumped out of the transport behind her, at the same time the entire building rattled with the shock of the heavy blast doors slamming together. She could still hear the movement outside, the trife swarming the bunker and trying to find a way in. There wasn’t one.
She scanned the small enclosure. She only saw eight Scrappers at first. Where the hell was Ghost? The other side of the transport?
She started walking, around the side toward the back.
Grimly came around the back in front of her. He was bleeding from a cut on his head, and smiling like it was the most fun he’d ever had.
“Sweetie,” he said, catching her in his arms before she could get around him.
“Let me go,” she replied. “Where’s Ghost?”
Grimly looked at her, and then quickly looked around.
“I don’t see him,” the Oversergeant said. “I guess it’s just you and me.”
20
“HAYDEN. SHERIFF. WAKE UP.”
Hayden opened his eyes, shoving his head back further into the rear seat of the car when he saw Chains’ face perched only a few inches above his.
She was leaning over him, straddling his waist. Her vest was hanging dangerously low, nearly giving him a full view of her breasts beneath. He turned his head to the side, looking away while the woman laughed.
“You’re so cute,” she said. “A lawman and a gentleman.” She pushed herself back, off him and out of the car. She slapped the roof of it a few times. “We’re here, Sheriff. Haven.”
Hayden pushed himself to a seated position, looking out of the window. It was still dark, and he couldn’t see much beyond the shapes of other vehicles parked around them.
“Huh?” he said, trying to recover from his grogginess.
“This is the Impound. King doesn’t let cars go through the streets, not unless they’re on official business, which we aren’t. My ride’s safe enough here for now.”
“What about the trife?” he asked, still looking around. They appeared to be inside again. Dim lights hung against a cement ceiling, revealing a number of cracks in the structure, some of which looked dangerously large. “Where’s Jake?”
“Your friend is on his way to his shop. He asked me to let you rest a little longer, and then bring you over. Well, more like he paid me to do it. With your Notes.” She laughed again. “Damn, I never thought I’d be so happy to make a nighttime run. That was something else. Come on, Sheriff. I still have another delivery to make.”
“How long was I sleeping?” Hayden asked, dragging himself out of the car. He was becoming so used to being bruised and sore he barely noticed it anymore.
“An hour on the drive up, five hours after. The sun will be coming up soon.”
He stretched his arms, his
stomach letting out a loud growl. “I’m hungry.”
“Tell me about it. Lucky for you, Haven has its own farm and good supply lines. You can buy me breakfast.”
Hayden put his hand to his forehead. He had a splitting headache. “Thanks for getting me here.”
“It’s like you said, Sheriff. We were both heading this way anyhow.” She reached out and took his hand. She was so tiny, she felt like a child in his grip. “This way.”
She pulled him along, bypassing the other dozen vehicles in the Impound. Most of them looked newer than hers, but they all had various levels of armor plating and defensive spikes arranged strategically around them.
Like before, they had to go up a ramp to get out of the Impound. Unlike Crossroads, this garage had a reconstructed gate made of bars of iron that swung open from the center, held fast by a heavy chain and lock. A guard was standing outside, his back to them.
“Billy, I’m ready to go now.”
Billy turned around. He was a child, no more than fourteen, and yet he already had the eagle and star logo marked on his arm in a pledge of allegiance to the Scrappers. He was carrying a revolver and a knife on his hips, and he looked at them with the hardened eyes of an adult. What had this kid seen or done already in his life?
“Sure thing, Chains,” Billy said. He lifted a ring of keys and picked out the right one, unhitching the padlock and chain from the gate. He pulled it open enough for them to exit.
“Your boyfriend looks like he got beat to shit,” Billy said as Hayden passed through.
“Doesn’t he?” Chains replied. “Aww, don’t get jealous, Billy. I don’t really like him; he just pays well.”
Billy smiled, his face flushing. They exited the Impound, moving out into the street.
“Do I need to worry about him?” Hayden asked.
“Not yet,” she replied. “As near as I can tell, nobody knows you exist. I think we capped all of the Enforcers at Crossroads, so we don’t need to worry about them, either. News doesn’t travel all that fast around here.”
“What about the other Scrappers already in town?”
“What about them? Stay out of trouble, stop trying to help everyone who crosses them, and you should be okay.”
“That would be easier to do if crossing them didn’t mean looking at them in a way they don’t like.”
“You learn to keep your head down, Sheriff. Watch the residents, you’ll see.”
Hayden looked around. It was hard for him to get a sense of bearing. The road was a mixture of broken pavement, dirt, and loose stone backed by once tall buildings in various states of destruction. Some were little more than piles of rubble and the hint of a wall. A few had stairs and intact surfaces. A couple of them bore evidence of inhabitants, flickering fires bouncing against the walls of raised floors, though he didn’t see anyone.
“What residents?” he asked. They were the only ones outside.
“It’s still dark,” Chains said. “They’ll show once the sun starts to come up.”
“Where are they now?”
“Hiding.”
“From the trife?”
“And from the Scrappers. They’re bad enough sober. Those fires-” She motioned to the dancing reflections. “Those are all watchmen. They keep an eye out for the bad things and sound the alarm if they see anything. Again, if they’re sober enough.”
“You have alcohol?”
“Of course.” She laughed. “It was probably the first thing we started making again once the war was over. I’ve been fortunate enough to get a sip of a bottle of bourbon that predates the trife. What we make now is more like warm piss in comparison. Not that I’ve tasted warm piss. Anyway, you’ll see. This place was a city once. The number of people who lived here drew a mass of trife I’ve heard numbered close to a million. They figured the best way to take care of them was to blow the shit out of the city, so they did. They killed tons of trife, lots of people, and left this behind.” She waved at the destruction. “For all the grepping good it did them. Now, most people stay underground once night comes, and they set up their marketplace during the day. That doesn’t mean the trife never drop by, or they never need to evacuate for a goliath, but it’s old hat for all of us.”
“And there’s nothing we can do about it?”
“It’s been a long time, Sheriff. A really long time. Most people only know there was anything before because the evidence is still here. Otherwise, they’re so accustomed to living among the aliens it isn’t uncommon for them to get careless and wind up dead.”
They were walking down the central road. Hayden could see the dim light coming up from beneath the buildings, revealing entrances to more underground areas.
“What about you?” Hayden asked. “Where did you come from?”
“I grew up in Lavega,” Chains said. “Well, not in it. In a smaller town not too far from there called Carcity. I’ll give you one guess why.”
“Carcity?” Hayden said. “You have a lot of cars?”
“More than a lot. The place was a junkyard once. Cars by the thousands. It all got abandoned because of the war, forgotten for a long time until our founder stumbled over it and realized that shells of cars make great barriers against trife. You pile them up a certain way, even if the trife know you’re in there they can’t reach you, and they’re smart enough to give up after a while, but not smart enough to wait nearby for you to come out. Or maybe that just isn’t sporting enough for them. Most folks, they never leave the village where they’re born. If it’s safe enough to survive, it’s safer than anywhere else. But I never had much of a mind to sit still. I didn’t want to spend my life having babies and trying to repopulate the world. Especially in Carcity. Food is tight. Water is tighter. The founding family runs everything, and they’re all a bunch of screwed up pedophiles.”
She paused at the comment, her eyes dropping to the ground while she fought against some obvious past trauma.
“I needed to get out. King trades food and water to Carcity in exchange for parts. Sometimes he would send Scrappers to get new vehicles or have old ones repaired. I learned how to fix stuff, and then I started repairing my ride in secret.” She motioned back toward the Impound. “That was five years ago. I’ve been making runs mainly between Lavega, Haven, and Sanisco since then. I’m a Driver though, not a Courier. I’m not a killer, and I don’t work for King or any of the other would-be rulers. I know how to fight because I had to know, and one thing we have a lot of in Carcity is chains.”
Hayden glanced over at her again. He had originally thought she was older, but on second look maybe it was the dust and dirt that was aging her appearance. There was a softness to her face that he hadn’t noticed before. “How old were you when you left?”
“Thirteen.”
“You’re eighteen?”
She nodded. “I had to get out when I started to bleed. There are a lot of children in Carcity if you know what I mean. A lot of them don’t survive.”
“I understand.”
That didn’t mean he liked it. Maybe people had to grow up faster in this reality than in Metro, but that was no excuse for what it sounded like the Mayor of Carcity was up to.
They had kept walking along the same main street. Chains came to a stop, pointing to a narrow alley between two of the buildings. A red light was illuminating a steel door on the right side, and a scrawl of graffiti that read “BORGER.”
“Jake’s shop,” Chains said. “The light’s on, which means he’s in.”
“You knew about Jake before Crossroads?” Hayden asked.
“Of his shop, sure,” Chains said. “Borgers get a lot of attention because there aren’t many of them left. I’d never met him or anything. I never needed his services. There are twenty-thousand or so living here in Haven; it’s not like it’s a small town.”
“How many in Carcity?”
“About seven hundred, give or take. Pretty much all of us are blood-related to the founders in one way or another. It’s all relati
ve in Carcity.” She spat out the phrase with disgust.
She led him into the alley, to the door of Jake’s shop. It had a small button beside it, which created a soft buzzing noise when she pressed it. A louder buzz followed a moment later, along with the sound of the door unlocking.
Hayden didn’t notice the camera in the corner of the door frame until Chains had already started opening it, letting them inside.
21
THE SHOP WAS LARGER than Hayden expected, and even more surprisingly wasn’t underground. Instead, it was part of the bottom floor of the dilapidated building above it, which appeared to have all of its support walls and ceiling intact. As soon as they entered, he could hear a thumping sound vibrating through the room, a deep rumble that seemed to be coming from the wall opposite them, more than fifty meters away.
There was a seat in the center of the room, a chair of torn up leather, taped and stitched back together, resting on a pedestal that raised it closer to chest-height. A long arm reached up from it, and a single bulb was dangling from the end of a wire there, over the top of the chair. A rolling table sat next to it, some tools resting there. Hayden recognized a few of them from the farmhouse.
Four tables sat around the seat, showing off some of the available replacements Jake had available. Hands, arms, feet, and legs in various stages of quality and complexity. None of them looked anywhere close to as solid as the arm Hank had gifted to them, though he would have preferred any of them to the cauterized stump he had been left with. He was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
Three of the walls were lined with old wooden shelves, which were stocked with faded boxes. More boxes lay on the floor around the shelves, additional supplies overflowing the space. The fourth wall had a large, white container against it, and a wire from it to a small, black device resting on the floor. Additional wires spread out from the device, connecting to the bulb over the chair and a pair of displays on a desk in the corner, which itself was next to an old mattress.