Shattered Roads

by ALICE HENDERSON

  He put down the PRD again. She waited. When he lifted it up, he said, “The fire spread. The rest of the plants caught—the shrubs and grasses, incinerated. Everything was destroyed. My mother’s data recorders, all the trees . . . I wandered around, looking for animal survivors, but found only charred corpses. Some creatures the PPC had even chased far outside the forest, as if it were a sport. They burned them too . . .”

  He slumped his shoulders, hung his head, and let his tears fall. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  And then the recording ended.

  H124 straightened up, blinking at her display. Immediately she clicked on the next entry. The title scrolled at the bottom: Video Log—Carbon Sink Project 1.4.

  Raven appeared on her floating display, looking like hell. One of his eyes was almost swollen shut, and the other had deep black-and-purple bruises all around it. A fresh cut on his cheek spilled blood, and his lip was split open. His face was still covered with dirt and soot. His haunted eyes were rimmed in red. It looked like he was in one of the weather shelters. It wasn’t one she recognized, but the shelves of books behind him were a familiar sight. He sighed, trembling. “I thought it was over. The PPC had destroyed everything. The trees, the animals . . . my parents.” He looked away briefly. “But they came back. Foot soldiers. They swept the whole area, and I couldn’t escape in time. They captured me, beat me. They were going to kill me, so I . . . I got one of their guns and shot a man. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I can still see him, eyes wide with surprise, the sonic weapon throwing him back, blood streaming from his face. I don’t know if I killed him. When I threatened to shoot the other two men, they backed off.

  “So I ran. I managed to make it to one of our shelters.” He paused. “Why did the PPC do this? Of what possible interest could the forest be to them? Why would they take the trees? Why would they even care? It’s so far outside their center of control in their cities. I just can’t fathom it.”

  He blinked, the fatigue plain on his face. “I’m going to rest for a bit. I’ve contacted a group of other Rovers, who I’ll rendezvous with. I’m worried about the other forests. I have to check on them.”

  She pulled the blanket around herself and Gordon a little more, and clicked on Raven’s next entry: Video Log—Carbon Sink Project 1.5.

  This time, when Raven appeared on her floating display, he looked more rested. Enough time had passed from his previous entry that she saw no sign of the beating he’d taken. He looked a little older too, maybe in his early twenties now. His eyes were different, wounded and dark. He didn’t smile anymore. A grim determination had set into his features. “I’ve reached one of our forests here in the west, and all looks okay. I’ve built more of my mom’s sensors and placed them in the trees.”

  H124 could see other people milling around in the background among a forest of trees, mounting sensors and taking readings. Raven went on. “The PPC hasn’t touched the other carbon sinks that were planted, just the one outside New Atlantic. But I did learn why they took all those trees.” He clenched his teeth, his jaw set in anger. “Wood came back in style. A fad swept through the PPC execs to decorate their offices in Victorian style. They wanted wooden chairs, wooden desks, and real wood-burning fireplaces. But with most of the trees gone, they were out of luck. Until they happened to spot our forest during a routine New Atlantic perimeter check.”

  His voice trembled with rage. “An airship had been sent out to make sure the atmospheric dome was in good repair, and the pilot decided he wanted to see exactly what lay outside the city. So he flew a hundred miles out and found our forest. He knew the PPC had been wanting wood, so he went back and reported it. The next day, they sent orders to harvest the wood and wipe out any competition for it.”

  His eyes went black. “My parents died for that. All those animals died, for that. For a fucking fad.” He brought his face closer to the camera. “How are we supposed to save this place, this planet, with that in charge?” He looked away and took a deep breath. “We don’t believe in violence, though I admit there are times when I’m so angry I’m willing to stoop to it. Instead, we’ve come up with a way to keep the PPC troops and airships at bay. We’ve improved our hacking abilities and can take over any airship. During attacks, they haven’t been able to regain control. I’m leaving this PRD here. I’ve made copies for the other forests. I’m not sure who will watch this, but I wanted to keep a record of what’s happened here.”

  One of the people working behind him suddenly ran up. Raven lowered his PRD slightly, but she could still see them.

  “What is it?”

  “We just got word. A PPC airship was spotted nearby. It’s headed this way. We’re not sure if it’s spotted the forest yet.”

  Raven called out. “Everybody get your gear. River! Are you ready?”

  A woman in the distance nodded, holding up a metallic device.

  “Okay, let’s move out! We’ve got to save this place.” He looked back into the camera. “If this is my last fight, please, someone try to save this place. Try to save the other forests.”

  The recording ended.

  She looked for the next entry, but there wasn’t one. What had happened? They’d obviously been successful in saving the forest, at least for now, because it looked untouched when she and Gordon had landed there. But what had happened to Raven? To the other Rovers? Were they still alive?

  She turned off her PRD, returning to the dire reality of her situation. All night she struggled to stay awake, rubbing her arms and legs, as well as Gordon’s. When the first gleaming of dawn appeared on the horizon, dread had filled her. She knew they wouldn’t survive another night. If she couldn’t find firewood, she’d have to think of something else.

  Forcing her aching, cold body to move, she rose from her cramped position next to him and began exploring. Her ribs were bruised. Taking tiny breaths, she moved through the powdery snow, feeling the cold wet seeping in through her pants and boots. Every bit of wood she found was soaked. She found some plants that were still alive, leaves covered in snow, but even their wood was thoroughly wet.

  She checked her PRD, but found no waiting message from Rowan or Willoughby. She leaned back against the hard granite, feeling colder than she ever thought possible. Pulling her knees up under her chin, she pressed close to Gordon. She went over her options. If she didn’t hear back from Rowan or Willoughby, she’d make a stretcher and drag Gordon behind her until they found dry wood. She’d head down the mountain with him, where the snow would be less deep, and eventually reach bare dirt.

  She shivered, pulling Gordon’s blanket over their bodies. He mumbled something, and she turned to look at him. His mouth moved, and his eyes fluttered.

  “Gordon?”

  He tilted his head away from the wall. It sagged down to his chest. Then he brought up a hand to his forehead. “What . . .”

  He shifted under the blanket, and screamed out in pain.

  “Don’t move. It’s your leg.”

  “Where are we?”

  She looked out at the encroaching mist and saw only a world blanketed by snow. “On a mountain.”

  “We crashed?”

  She nodded.

  “Gods, I’m freezing. I can barely move my arms.”

  “I tried to start a fire, but everything’s soaked. I pulled some wood in under this overhang, but it’s not drying out.”

  He readjusted his position and sucked his teeth in pain. “How long have I been out?”

  “About twenty-four hours.”

  He leaned over and dry-heaved. “I feel sick to my stomach.”

  “You took a bad hit to the head.” She reached inside her jacket and pulled out the water bottle of melted snow. “Here. Drink this.”

  He did so, then handed it back to her, wiping his chapped lips on his sleeve. For a minute he sat in silence, eyes adjusting to the light. She s
aw sadness in his face, and fear. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I have two.”

  That made him laugh and wince at the same time. “Only two? Let’s hear them.”

  “I already called for help, but I haven’t heard back. If I don’t, I’m going to make a stretcher, and we’re going to hike down to a lower elevation.”

  “You can’t drag me all that way!”

  She set her jaw. “Oh, I can, and I will. It used to be my job dragging bodies around. It’s not up for debate.”

  He stared at her. “You could die out there.”

  “You could die here.”

  “You have a much better shot without me.”

  “I need company.”

  He appraised her with a shrewd look. “Liar.”

  “Again, it’s non-negotiable.”

  He pulled the blanket closer. “So what about option one? Who did you call?”

  “You might not like it.”

  “I think I’ll probably like it more than our current situation.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He creased his brow. “Now you’ve got me curious.”

  “I called Rowan and a friend I have with the PPC.”

  His mouth fell open somewhat.

  “They’re both good people.”

  “I didn’t know they made Badlanders and PPC types in that flavor.”

  “These guys have saved me before.”

  She pulled out her PRD from under the blanket. No response yet.

  Gordon’s head sagged. He shifted his position and said, “Don’t let me sleep through the rescue.”

  She rubbed her arms, then heard Gordon fall into the even breathing of sleep. Her breath plumed in the air.

  Darkness enveloped them once more. The second night felt endless. Cold seeped into every pore of her skin, every drop of her blood. It sank into her bones, her brain, her spirit. She’d stopped shivering long ago, and pressed against Gordon for warmth. He dozed, in and out of consciousness, murmuring fitfully, waking up every now and then with a cry of agony.

  A few hours into the night, he woke up with a start. “My feet!”

  She carefully removed his boots to find his toes frostbitten. Hers weren’t much better, but at least she’d been able to stand up, do jumping jacks, and stamp her feet to keep her circulation going. With Gordon’s leg as bad as it was, he couldn’t do the same. She did her best to rub his toes to get the blood flowing again.

  Snowflakes tinkled down almost musically, the snow growing deeper and deeper. The dead forest lay around them, eerily still. All she could hear was the blood thrumming in her ears and Gordon’s staggered breathing. A few times it grew so quiet that she could swear she heard the earth turning.

  Her body longed to sleep, but she couldn’t let it. She had to stay awake, to watch over Gordon, to wake him up now and then. If she slept, she’d freeze, and they’d both be lost, along with any hope of saving the planet.

  She gazed up at the clouds, imagining the clear, starlit skies above them, and farther out in space, hurtling steadily onward, that portent of doom racing toward the earth.

  She pulled her knees up to her chin, while stamping her feet and rocking back and forth. Cold seeped into her mind and soul. The blizzard gusted beyond their shelter, the thought of it weighing down her shoulders and eyelids. It would be so easy to sleep. Maybe the Rovers already knew about the asteroid. Willoughby said they hadn’t given up learning. And the Rover bunker under Delta City certainly revealed that they knew a lot about science. Maybe they already knew, and had already figured out a way to stop it. She didn’t need to keep fighting. She could just close her eyes and sleep. Just for a little while. Everything would be fine. She could just lie down on that rock next to Gordon and sleep for an hour. Maybe two.

  H124 jerked awake, unaware she’d fallen asleep. Fear coursed through her in a sudden wave. She stood up, peering out into a predawn sky. The storm still raged, the cloud level so low she couldn’t see much beyond fifty feet. Gordon moaned, coming to when she stood up. They’d made it through another night. But she doubted they could do it again.

  She pulled out her PRD. No message from Rowan or Willoughby. Forty-four hours had passed since she’d sent the SOS. They had a few rations of MREs left, but they wouldn’t last long. If she waited here, they might never come, and she and Gordon would grow weaker as their food ran out. If Rowan hadn’t gotten the message, or if he couldn’t reach her, they could wait there until they died. He must not have gotten the message, because wouldn’t he have at least replied by now, even if he couldn’t make it? And what of Willoughby? Had the PPC figured out that he’d helped her?

  “What’s happening?” Gordon mumbled, his speech slurred.

  “What’s happening is that we’re leaving.”

  “Rescue is arriving?”

  “Yeah, and it’s us.”

  “What?”

  She looked around at the snow and rock, at the swath of splintered dead trees they’d knocked down in the crash. “I’m going to make a sled so I can pull you. All we have to do is get lower, down below the snow. If we stay up here another night, we’re not going to make it.”

  “You can’t drag me down the mountain.” Gordon leaned forward, rubbing his arms. He cried out when his broken leg shifted.

  She looked him in the eye. “I can, and I will.” Snowflakes cascaded down, catching in her eyelashes. “We should go now, while we still have some energy and MREs.”

  Leaving the overhang, she returned to the plane. From the tail, she collected as much wiring as she could, cutting it with her pocket torch. Then she walked along the line of the crash, selecting the straightest branches that had splintered off, and had soon collected the makings of a workable stretcher. Returning to the dry overhang, she lashed them together with the electrical wire, using two longer pieces of wood as handles.

  She was almost done when Gordon closed his hand around hers. “I appreciate what you’re doing. But you can’t. Go get help, then come back for me.”

  She looked into his watery blue eyes, his kind face. “If I do that,” she said firmly, “you won’t be alive when I come back. Without sharing body heat, there’s no way either of us would have made it through the last two nights.”

  He gripped her hand more tightly. “I’m not going to let you sacrifice yourself for me. There’s no sense in both of us dying.”

  “But there’s a lot of sense in both of us living, and that’s what’s going to happen.” She tied off the final knot, then stood up. “Now get on the stretcher,” she commanded, pointing at it as if she were a military commander.

  Gordon looked up at her, then broke out in an involuntary laugh. “Damn, you’re stubborn. You could be my kid.” His eyes teared in the cold. “If you ever decide you want a pa, I’d be happy to have you as a daughter.”

  She knelt down and hugged him, feeling his warmth against her cold cheek. “Thank you.” She stayed like that for a minute, then stood up. “Now get on the damn stretcher.”

  He laughed, then shifted his weight toward it. Carefully, she lifted his leg as he eased onto it. He winced, biting back a cry of pain.

  Using the seat belts from the plane, she lashed him to the stretcher, then threw her tool bag over her shoulder. Grabbing the two extending handles, she lifted up one end of the stretcher and began to make her way through the deep snow, heading ever downward.

  Chapter 27

  Sinking into the snow, H124 trudged down the mountain, each step a massive effort. Every breath was a renewed agony as her cracked ribs protested. The deep snow was good for one thing, at least—it kept Gordon’s stretcher relatively level as she dragged it over the ground. Had the ground been bare, he would have bumped over every log and rock.

  Her breath frosting in the air, she worked her way down the mountain, switchbacking down steep sections. Thir
st gnawed at her constantly, and with all the exertion, she couldn’t melt water fast enough to drink it. She kept stopping, stuffing new snow into her water bottle, and then tucking it under her jacket to melt.

  Gordon drifted in and out of consciousness, groaning on occasion. She thought hypothermia might be setting in for him. At one point he struggled against the seat belts and cried out, “I told him not to go in there!”

  For hours she labored on, stopping more and more often to rest and drink. The cold zapped her muscles of strength. She ate the last of their MREs, breaking it in half and forcing Gordon to eat his share. Weakly he pushed her hand away, but finally she got him to chew the ration and swallow it.

  As the day wore on, the snow grew less deep. She was making progress. Her lungs burned in her chest, and her body started to tremble with exhaustion. She forced herself onward, stopping more frequently for want of a decent breath. The thick cloud cover continued to send down flurries of snowflakes.

  The snow was now only knee-deep. She dragged Gordon down another steep slope, zigzagging across it. More stands of dead trees loomed up out of the mist, gray sentinels in a monochromatic landscape.

  Suddenly, far below, she spied an expanse of bare brown earth, and she would have run toward it if she weren’t about to fall over with fatigue.

  Instead she forged on slowly, step by step, six inches at a time, closing the distance. Tiny breath. Step. Tiny breath. Step. She paused when she reached the next stand of dead trees. If she could make it to that section of bare earth, she had a chance of finding dry wood and starting a fire.

  Gordon stirred on the stretcher, murmuring under his breath.

  Above her the cloud layer grew thinner, the wind drawing it to the east. All of a sudden she could see an edge of blue sky. Her heart lifted.

  She trudged on. Left foot. Right foot. Her arms trembled with the weight of the stretcher. She stopped, setting Gordon down and taking a long drink from her water bottle. She was about to stop and give him a drink too, when she heard something in the distance.