by K A Riley
At first, a feeling of unrelenting nausea sets in. It takes a few hours on the road before I really get used to the feeling of seeing the world outside skimming past the truck’s small front windows. The pits, craters, rocks and debris littering the nearly-destroyed and totally deserted highway make the ride perilous and stomach-churning at times. After a while, I grow more used to it and manage to enjoy the experience.
At one point, Rain says this must be what it feels like to fly. I don’t reply, even though I don’t agree. This is different from the feeling I get when I’m connected to Render. When I’m inside his mind, I don’t feel my weight, the relentless force of friction, or the concussive impact of the road like I do in the Transport Truck. With Render, even the turbulence in the air turns smooth as he skims over thermal waves and rides like a surfer in zero-gravity on rolling pockets of wind.
Now that’s what it feels like to fly.
17
After several hours, Vail announces our arrival in Salt Lake City.
It’s been a long but great ride, one I kind of wish didn’t have to end. Along the way, I decided I trusted Vail and Roland enough to tell them about my dad and Render and about how he connected us through the microcircuitry in my forearm tattoos. Vail seemed to find this last part especially interesting and asked me a few more questions about my connection. In the meantime, I could sense Render soaring above the truck, high in the sky, feeling free for the first time in a long while, just like us. I spent most of the rest of the drive with my shoulder pressed against Brohn, who occasionally offered me one of his million-dollar smiles. I could tell he was still concerned about what I thought I saw back at the base. I tried to smile back to reassure him, hoping it was enough to tell him I was fine.
At the city’s outer limits, Vail spots a military check-point in the distance.
“How are we going to get past them?” Cardyn asks across the cabin to Roland.
Roland tells us not to worry and to just sit back in the transport and not say anything.
“Vail used to work for an arm of the government,” he informs us. “She quit when Krug announced the formation of his Patriot Army, but she’s still got a few connections up her sleeve. And the credentials she has will make any guard think twice about snooping too much or asking too many questions.”
Vail sends Manthy to the back with us and closes the small but heavy door separating the cab from the cabin. The overhead cabin light goes off, and Roland and the rest of us sit quietly in the dark.
Through a small vent just behind my head, I hear the guard say, “You’re cleared,” before sending us on our way.
After that, Vail re-opens the dividing door and navigates the troop transport through the city. We take turns leaning into the cab to have a look out of the small panel of windows running along the front of the truck and on the windows of the two front doors.
For the first time since I was a small child, I set my eyes on people walking the streets. It’s like I remember—pedestrians on sidewalks, going about their business. Humans living ordinary human lives, as if the rest of the world hasn’t been destroyed.
Some of them are men dressed in tidy suits, accompanying women in light veils and pretty dresses. Each pair seems to have an armed guard alongside them, dressed in something like military fatigues.
When we begin to weave through a shanty town, I spot children and adults in ratty, torn clothing, running around in the shadows of two monstrous buildings.
“Arcologies,” I say softly as the others lean forward to look. Two massive structures the size of entire cities, stretch high toward the clouds. For a little while I contemplate connecting with Render to take a closer look, but after our last experience at the base, I decide to hold back.
“They’re so huge,” Card says. “I never knew they’d be so big.”
“Big enough to hold all the richest, most important people,” Vail says, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Listen, there’s a safe house not too far from here. Just keep your heads down, and we should be there before you know it.”
As promised, she gets us through the city and to an underground parking garage within a matter of minutes. When she’s pulled inside, we hear the door sliding closed behind us. I press my arm tattoo to make sure Render’s with us and am relieved to find he’s swept off into the city to forage for something to eat.
After a few seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Vail climbs out and lets us out the side, a huge smile on her face.
“Good news!” she sings. “We have showers!”
I look around at the others, and suddenly I want to break into song myself. Other than using dirty spring water to clean ourselves up, none of us has taken a shower or bath in weeks.
Vail leads us through a door into a space that reminds me of the locker rooms at Shoshone High School. A ladies’ change room on one side, men’s on the other, a long series of metal lockers lining the space between.
“Go ahead,” says Vail. “You’ve earned it. There are towels in the change rooms.”
Rain, Manthy and I dash into the shower room so quickly that we almost get stuck in the doorway, laughing as we try our best to out-maneuver one another. I’m pleased when I see that there are multiple private shower stalls, each stocked with shampoo, conditioner and body wash.
“Toothbrushes!” Rain squeals, opening a nearby cupboard. “Brand new ones! And toothpaste!”
I’ve never felt so fortunate in all my life as I do in this moment. I rush over to one of the sinks and turn on the water. The sound is music to my ears, but it’s the feeling of warm liquid caressing my hands that makes me all but swoon. I splash some on my face before glancing into the mirror.
What I see freaks me out.
My large brown-green eyes have turned bright and alert, standing out like beacons above my now-prominent cheekbones. I’ve clearly lost weight, though that’s not the most surprising part of it. Somehow, I’ve turned into an adult. The last time I saw my reflection, I looked like a round-faced teenage girl. But now I’ve grown into something else. It’s like I’ve spent the last several weeks tucked inside a cocoon, only to emerge as a different person.
I see now what the others see when they look at me. What Brohn sees when he takes my hand. A girl who’s transformed, who looks wiser, more experienced, and more confident than she did back in our days in the Valta.
I see Render in me, too, though the thought of it makes me shudder slightly. I can’t help thinking that he’s the one who’s given me this odd energy, this air of alertness…as though I now see the world through new eyes.
Pulling away from my reflection, I stride toward the shower stalls, determined to wash away the last remnants of my past.
When everyone’s finished our luxuriously long showers and wrapped ourselves in fluffy white towels, Vail leads us over to a large supply closet at the back of the central locker room. She slides the door open to reveal a line of clothes of various styles and sizes.
Blissful sighs emerge from every open mouth. Clean clothes haven’t existed in our world in so long that we’ve all but forgotten what they feel like. I can see joy in my friends’ faces for the first time in ages, and my joy mingles with theirs in a sort of collective moment of pure bliss before it fades again to vague worry about our future.
After we’ve all slipped on our brand-new outfits and swiped as many toothbrushes and toothpaste tubes as we can realistically carry, Vail leads us back out to the truck and hands me a small pouch, which holds dozens of thin silver disks.
“Tap-coins,” she explains as Roland climbs out of the truck to join us. “Not sure how much good they’ll do. They ran on the old I.D.S. We were still using them in Santa Fe, but I hear most of the New Towns like Reno where you’ll head next are back to the barter system, so money won’t necessarily do you much good.”
“What’s a ‘Reno’?” asks Card.
Vail laughs. “It’s a city.”
“Like this one?”
“Not exactly. Thing
s are safer in Salt Lake. Everything’s about modesty. A woman just needs to be covered. In Reno, they need to be careful.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” I tell her.
“I don’t doubt that. Just watch out.” She points to me, Rain, and Manthy. “You three, especially.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just that…well, let’s just say that that town belongs to whoever has the biggest gun.”
I don’t get what she means at first, but when Brohn clears his throat and looks down at his crotch, I catch her drift.
“Once there, you’ll need to track down a thermonic sensor cartridge.”
“A what?” I ask.
“Thermonic sensor cartridge,” Roland explains. “This truck won’t run much longer without one. It’s a fuel supplement and enhancer, and you’ll need it to get the rest of the way to San Francisco.”
“Wait,” Rain says. “You’re going to drive us to San Francisco? I thought you had to stay here. You said you had family…”
“We do. And we are. But this truck won’t do us any good here. So, we’re giving it to you.”
“You mean you want us to…?”
“Drive yourselves to Reno, yes,” Vail laughs. “Pick up the thermonic sensor cartridge, get to San Francisco, join the resistance, and save the world. Yes, please. All of it.”
I’m about to object when Brohn steps forward. “We can do that,” he says, extending his hand, which Vail pushes away, leaning in for a tight hug instead.
“I know you can,” she says. “I have a feeling about you. About all of you. I wish we could keep you here, have you help out our cause. But something tells me you’re destined for bigger things.”
“We’ll do what we can in San Francisco,” I promise as Vail releases Brohn and pulls me in close for a hug of my own.
“Uh, about the sensor thing?” Rain asks. “How exactly do we…?”
Vail wipes her eyes. “We’ve got someone on the inside in Reno. A friend of the family. Used to be an inventory clerk at a military supply depot back in Santa Fe. She owns a bar now. She keeps her finger on the government’s pulse while she hides in plain sight.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Nora. But she goes by Saucy. She’ll help you, and she won’t require much in return.”
“Much?” Cardyn asks with a raised eyebrow.
“She has a thing for bio-tech in non-human organisms.”
“Which means?”
Vail swings around to face me. “She’ll want to have a look at your bird.”
“Render? What’ll she want with Render?”
Vail tips her head back and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Kress. She’ll just want a feather or two. Maybe a little blood.”
“From Render?”
“For her DNA collection.”
Cardyn leaps in front of me. “Wait. What kind of nut are you hooking us up with?”
“The best kind of nut. The kind doesn’t give you an allergic reaction or contain cyanide. The kind of nut you don’t have to work too hard to crack.”
“Sorry,” Brohn apologizes on Cardyn’s behalf. “We’re just a little wary about being blind-sided.”
“Not everything in life has to be a struggle. Still, you’ll need to watch out for checkpoints. We don’t have any surveillance drones, or I’d lend you one to figure out alternate routes. You shouldn’t encounter too much resistance on the highway, anyway. As you saw, the roads and the smaller towns have all been abandoned or destroyed.”
“That’s all right,” I say, “We have our own drone.”
“That you do. So you know, you’ll be on the road a good seven or eight hours to Reno. You’ll need to get the cartridge and find a way to install it. Otherwise, the truck won’t be much more than a twenty-ton paperweight. After that, you’ll head to San Francisco. That’ll be another three hours, at which point this beast probably won’t have a lot of life left in her, even with the cartridge installed. You may have to walk part of the way, or if you’re lucky, you can cruise in on fumes.”
“I wish we could stay together,” Rain says.
“Me too,” Vail replies. “But as you said, we have our family to take care of. And you need to get those answers you say you’re looking for. But hey—who knows? Maybe we’ll meet up again someday when the world is right.”
18
It’s going on nighttime when we’re finally ready to leave. After the rest of us have said goodbye to him, Vail kisses Roland on the cheek and climbs into the truck with the five of us piling into the cabin behind her. She drives us across town to the Western Gate, which she explains is the city limit and the dividing line between Salt Lake City and the desert. Using the same credentials she used to get us past the first checkpoint and into the city, Vail drives us out into the desert, where she stops the truck at the side of the road after about five minutes, cutting the engine.
“This is it,” she says. She stoops down, climbs back into the cabin, and leads us out the sliding side door. We hop out of the truck and down to the road. The air outside is dusty and hot. The broken road extends in a straight line right into the horizon. On either side, the desert stretches out, red and rocky for as far as we can see.
With a loud kraa! Render lands on the truck’s roof to let us know he’s still with us.
“I’ll head back to the city on foot.” Vail taps the side of the massive truck and tells us. “She’s all yours now. Should be smooth sailing to Reno.”
When she notices us all standing in place and quietly staring at her, she furrows her brow and asks us what’s wrong.
Cardyn half-raises his hand. “Um…none of us knows how to drive.”
Vail’s laugh echoes through the desert. “Okay, I guess I’ll give you a quick lesson, then. And don’t worry. These things are designed for the military. They’re totally idiot-proof.”
“I think we’ve got an idiot or two who can prove you wrong,” I inform her.
Cardyn says, “Hey!”
“I didn’t say you were one of them,” I laugh. “But you’ve just incriminated yourself. Nice work.”
“Come on, then.” Patient, supportive, and endlessly smiling, Vail crowds Brohn and me into the cab with her while Cardyn, Manthy, and Rain poke their heads through the portal as best they can to follow along with the instructions. Vail points to an array of lights and gauges on the front panel. “These, you don’t have to worry about. Since your communication and GPS systems are off-line, the only thing you have to pay attention to is the read-out here. This tells you your solar-cell charge and monitors the hydraulics. That’s what you need the thermonic sensor cartridge for. Without that, the fuel link doesn’t work, which means the truck won’t run. Other than that, it’s about as basic as you can get. Steering wheel. Accelerator. Brake. She’s a big machine, and she’s older than all of you, so go easy on her. Start turning before you need to. Brake before you think you have to.”
Brohn and I take turns driving the truck up the road, turning around and coming back. When we think we have the hang of it, Cardyn takes a turn.
Manthy refuses. When Cardyn tries to convince her to give it a shot, explaining that we’ll never know when we might need her to step up and drive, Manthy tells him, “If we’re desperate enough for me to drive, it means we’re all dead, so what difference does it make?”
Brohn whispers to Cardyn not to push his luck so he drops it. After a while, we get to the point where we all start to feel like we can drive this thing in a straight line without killing ourselves or anyone else along the way.
Brohn, Cardyn, and I take a second turn just to be sure we have the hang of it. Rain, it turns out, has to be disqualified. It’s a big vehicle, and her legs aren’t quite long enough to reach the foot pedals from the high perch of the Captain’s Chair. On top of that, her arms aren’t long enough for her to work the hand controls at the same time, even when she pulls the seat up to its closest setting. Vail tries folding up some of the floor mats in
the back and tying them to the foot pedals, but they keep slipping off.
We all have a good laugh over it, including Rain. “My poor little legs,” she moans in mock complaint.
“I know,” Card says, nodding his head in vigorous agreement. “They’re barely long enough to reach the ground!”
Rain grumbles at him. “And your brain’s barely big enough to fill your head.”
Vail interrupts their squabbling. “The truck is equipped with an auto-driver and mobile navigation system, so, technically, you should have just been able to insert a destination or map coordinates into the nav-comm entry panel, and the vehicle would have taken you to Reno on its own. But the system has been disabled or broken.”
We try pleading with Manthy to fix it but once again, she refuses.
“But it would make things so much easier,” Cardyn whines over the grind of the engine as Brohn takes one last practice run down the road.
Sitting stiffly in the belly of the Truck, Manthy frowns and asks, “Easier for who?”
When Cardyn leans forward and tries to explain that her noble sacrifice would be for the benefit of the group, she very unkindly suggests that what might benefit the group even more would be for her to knock out all of his teeth and throw him out the side of the hurtling truck. “That would definitely make things easier for me,” she snarls as the rest of us quickly and wisely back down.
Feeling comfortable enough at last, we say our goodbyes to Vail and ask her to pass along our thanks to Roland as well. As we exchange handshakes, hugs, and sad farewells, it occurs to me that just once I’d like to say goodbye to someone I know I’ll see again.