Jake took the small drum of orange plastic rope off Trader. “Can we take him to Sigma for treatment?”
“He tried to kill us, Jake. They won’t accept someone like this on their clock.”
“We don’t have to tell them. He’s lost his mind and needs help.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you how these clocks work.”
“He can’t come with us. The world has changed, and you need to start getting used to it.”
The man leaned forward. “Who is he? The cat’s mother?”
Jake ignored him. “Just this once, for me. If they can nurse him back to health, who knows what information he might have?”
Trader rubbed his chin. “I could try to sell him like that. Just don’t blame me if they refuse him entry.”
“It’s a deal.”
This person was probably a man from Jake’s world. Stasis and his solitary life in the bunker had affected his mind. Jake couldn’t leave him here to rot in madness.
Jake lifted the man from his chair and pulled his arms behind his back. He tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench.
“Please don’t take me away,” the man said.
He didn’t have the strength to fight back as Jake bound his wrists. “This is for your own safety. We’re taking you to get help. Relax and you won’t get into any trouble.”
Trader cupped his nose. “He’s not riding with us.”
“Put him in the back of one of the trucks.”
Jake finished securing the man and scanned the console. The blast door button had a protected lock over the top of it. He popped it up and depressed the button below. A distant rumble echoed from the other side of the warehouse.
* * *
While Trader frog-marched the man up the long concrete ramp that led to the surface, and brought his men and vehicles down the ramp to collect supplies, Pete and Jake searched the facility.
He could see through the cryo-units’ frosted windows that they were all empty of frozen food. Jake moved along to the armory and thumbed the pad outside. Oxygen hissed into the room from vents near the ceiling before the door slid open.
Only a single rifle was missing from the racks, and it lay on the control room floor. Trader would have his bounty of fifty rifles, forty pistols, thousands of rounds, ten guided weapons and a hundred missiles.
Jake shuddered when he thought of someone like Finch getting his greasy paws on an arsenal like this. He hoped Trader was the man of principle he claimed and supplied them responsibly.
Trader talked about learning from mistakes from the past. Building up forces and weapons capability had often been a precursor to war. Jake was aware that it took him less than twenty-four hours in his new world to boost their fighting capabilities. He decided to forget the other locations he knew about in Wyoming.
Vehicle engines revved in the warehouse and doors slammed. Jake returned upstairs to explore the living quarters.
Nearly all sixty beds in the long barrack room were neatly made with folded gray blankets, apart from one scruffy bunk in the corner. Empty cans, cartons and bottles piled around it. The man lived a tramp’s existence, probably for a few decades, judging by the state of him.
Jake decided against going through the metal lockers by each bed. They would contain people’s personal effects and clothing. It didn’t feel right. If men and women weren’t here, there was a chance they could still be in stasis, his next destination.
He descended a flight of stairs at the far end. The room below matched the dimensions of the one above. Silver stasis pods lined the walls on either side. These were in a standing up position, unlike the horizontal ones on Endeavor.
Red alarm lights flashed over every one. Jake checked the first on the right. The vital signs of the occupant were nonexistent on the status bar, and condensation covered the plastic lid. He pulled his cuff over his hand and wiped it.
The body inside, in a dark blue Fleet uniform, was in an advanced state of decomposition, almost a skeleton apart from the black skin that clung to the face. Jake checked the next two and found the same thing. Condensation covered the rest, but he didn’t need to check. All but one of the pods were now rectangular coffins.
A monitor in the middle of the room reported the alarm history. He scrolled through to the start of the reported issues. The system suffered a chemical supply failure thirty years ago.
The man outside was probably on watch when it happened. There always had to be one person awake. He attempted ten system reboots. Clearly not a technical expert, as it was a supply rather than software issue.
Jake imagined the despair he would feel in the same situation. The world outside had gone, and he was responsible for maintaining the bunker’s life. Everybody died on his watch, no wonder he went crazy.
He returned to the warehouse, feeling deep sadness at what occurred in the bunker. Jake consoled himself that their hope for the future was silently snatched away, unlike the victims of the war.
Trader’s team were busy filling the trucks. He turned to Jake and smiled. “This is beyond our wildest dreams.”
Chapter Ten
Skye stopped halfway up a scree slope and knelt next to a tree. The sketched map Rhodes gave her proved more useful than she initially thought. The basic drawing called out all of the main landmarks from the road as she headed east into new, more mountainous territory.
According to an outlaw Rhodes captured last week, the raiders were camped near a cave system shrouded by an alpine forest. She stood at the edge of the forest and would use her tracking skills from here to stalk her prey.
The dust storm had passed, and the setting sun cast long shadows on the ground. She needed to move if she wanted to take advantage of the remaining natural light. Approaching her target under the cover of darkness had its advantages, but not for this task. Skye needed to scan the ground for clues and wanted to get a clean shot from a distance to enable a safe escape.
She unstrapped her pack, drank some water, and unrolled the pieces of paper that Rhodes gave her for a final examination. The drawing of her target looked pretty generic, a bearded man, although he was missing his left eyebrow. Skye hoped it wasn’t an oversight by the amateur artist.
The captive named him as James Ryder. Other than being a thorn in Zeta’s side, his history was unknown. He hated the strongholds and their way of life, and made it his personal crusade to disrupt their activities. She hoped, like other leaders of their world, he would take advantage of his position and be easily identifiable through clothing or living arrangements.
Nothing about his description sounded unusual for an outlaw. Most Skye encountered in the land around Omega were bitter about the strongholds. They made the choice not to conform. Nobody forced them to do it. Issues only arose when they attacked society’s way of life, and Ryder took it to a new disgusting level.
Outlaws didn’t want to understand that things were harsh, and a system was needed to ensure future survival and development. Their notional idea of freedom only meant severely limited resources and an increased danger to their lives. It led them to attack the very thing that provided a realistic way forward.
Skye strapped on her pack, shouldered her rifle, and crept through the trees, scanning for any signs of movement or unnatural disturbance on the loose stony ground.
The air cooled as she climbed higher and the sun continued to dip. If Ryder wasn’t in his camp and the outlaws moved into the caves, things would become difficult. A clear sky meant it would be cold tonight, and waiting for her target to emerge would mean an uncomfortable night. Skye came prepared with a fleece and some food in her pack. She didn’t have a time constraint on her mission and wanted to complete it and get back to Omega.
The ground between tree trunks became increasingly rocky, and no clear route led to the top of the hill. She could understand why the outlaws chose to hide out in this wild terrain.
Light footsteps pattered across a
rock ahead. Skye crouched behind a boulder and focused on a small cluster of pines. A sentry positioned on the outskirts of their camp might sound an alarm. Her mission wasn’t to kill her way to Ryder. If her location was compromised, she would have to come back again.
She leaned down and pulled a dagger from her boot. Silent protection if an outlaw attacked. A gunshot would likely bring most of the outlaws to her position. Being captured was her worst nightmare, after hearing Rhodes’ story.
A small wild dog shuffled out from the dry scrub a few yards away.
Skye moved to her left, hoping to avoid its attention. Her experience found them to be jittery animals, prone to barking and running if threatened.
Her foot slipped on a loose stone. It rolled away and bounced down the hill, pinging off larger rocks. The dog snapped its head in her direction.
Skye winced. It let out five loud barks and bolted away. In the silent alpine forest, that would be heard from a reasonable distance. Animal noises were common occurrences on this type of ground, but they were also a sign of human presence. She moved to her left and found some cover.
Skye waited for five minutes behind the trunk. Nobody came to investigate. With natural light fading, pulling away her chances of striking from a decent range, Skye continued forward until seeing the edge of a natural plateau ahead, with a rock face stretching above it. It matched Rhodes’ description. She dropped to the prone firing position and leopard-crawled between two trunks.
A breath of wind blew through the pines, carrying a voice. Skye darted behind a jagged rock and peered over it.
Two men, dressed in filthy old Omega jackets, casually made their way down from the plateau. One carried a steel hunting knife.
“Where’s that damn dog?” Knife said.
“He’ll be around here somewhere.”
“Explains the missing supplies.”
The other man grunted.
They continued past Skye’s position. She moved further around the rock to avoid being seen. It would just be a case of waiting for them to return to camp and continuing with her objective. Neither of the men seemed suspicious of the animal being disturbed.
Skye kept as still as possible and listened. Faint chatter carried on the breeze. Not from the men below, but from above. It had to be the camp.
Five minutes later they trudged back up the hill and chatted to each other while looking straight ahead. This time they passed within twenty yards, picking a line through the rocks to avoid climbing.
“We ain't finished checking the perimeter.”
“Ryder won't know the difference, come on.”
“You never catch those damned things.”
“You can talk.”
They continued forward. Skye leaned over the rock. The man with the knife reached the top of the plateau, tucked his hunting knife in his belt, and looked directly back at her position. Skye immediately ducked down.
“Put your hands in the air. No fast movements,” a male voice said behind her.
Skye looked over her shoulder. A pistol was aimed at her head.
A young man with greasy brown hair smiled. “One of the oldest tricks in the book. You Zeta people are so predictable.”
Skye raised her hands. “I’m from Omega. I only came to observe.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Do you think we haven’t got watchers all over this place? I’ll give you some credit. You got closer than most others.”
The two other men bounded down the hill and stood on top of the rock.
Knife looked down at Skye. “I never like playing the stupid one, but it works.”
She shrugged. The thought of what they might do to her gave Skye the biggest concerns. “Let me go. I won’t say a word or return. I promise.”
“Our orders are to bring in any intruders alive. Unless they cause problems. Do you have any other weapons besides the rifle?”
Skye reached into her boot, slipped out the dagger, and threw it to the ground. Striking out would probably mean a swift end. If they took her to see Ryder, that would be the time to fight. If she was going out, at least she’d bring him down too.
The man holding the pistol leaned over her. “Sorry about this.”
“Sorry about wha—”
She felt a sharp blow against the side of her head. The forest blurred and her shoulder hit the ground.
* * *
Skye felt dull pain above her left ear. She shivered and opened her eyes. The cool air set about her skin, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. Flickering torches attached to rocky walls lit up a cavernous area around her, highlighting stalactites. A drop of water fell and landed in a pool on the ground. The impact echoed around the cave. The sound of chatting came from the next chamber.
Her wrists were bound with thick rope. She struggled to wriggle her hands free, but they’d done a good job. At least they hadn’t tied her ankles. Skye gingerly rose to her feet and leaned against the cold stone wall.
A man appeared in the entrance. “Nice to see you’re awake.”
He moved along the ledge toward her and ducked under two torches. Skye squinted into the gloom and tried to judge his intent. An orange glow from a tobacco pipe lit up his face. Bearded with a missing left eyebrow. The outlaw, James Ryder.
“What are you going to do to me?” Skye said.
“Strange question. I think what you were going to do to me was more of the issue. Wouldn’t you say?”
Skye decided to stick with her original story. “Nothing. I came to observe.”
“Sure you did. You got a heck of a lot closer than any of the others before you.”
“Lucky me.”
“My man tells me you came alone. Why?”
With her tracking skills and aim with a sniper rifle, Skye thought she didn’t need anyone else. Ryder’s men had proved her wrong.
“Who says I’m alone?”
Ryder puffed twice on his pipe and laughed. “I do. I’m sure you’re the best they’ve got, but it takes more than that to get the better of us. What was in it for you, a promotion?”
“None of your business. Kill me if you want, but if any of your men get even the slightest thought of interfering with me …”
Ryder raised his eyebrow. “Is that what they told you? My men are good people. We have women and children here. Don’t judge us because we’re not part of your tyrannical system.”
“I was told your gang killed people. Attacked and captured women. You’ve been doing it to Zeta for months. They don’t sound like model citizens to me, Ryder.”
“So you figure because we don’t have shiny tags around our necks, that makes us monsters? Most of the people here are only here because of the flaws in your precious strongholds. If you don’t fit into their perfect little pigeon holes, you’re cast out as a criminal.”
“Are you claiming that you and your people have never broken a law?”
He sat on a rock next to her and pulled a knife out of his belt. “Your laws are not our laws. We’re free people, not sheep following the will of a lost shepherd.”
“Laws and systems are there to govern and ensure the safety of citizens. Without them it would be anarchy. Our very survival depends on it.”
Ryder leaned forward, slipped his knife between Skye’s hands, and sawed through the rope with the serrated edge. Skye gently caressed the red marks on her sore wrists.
“Is it enough just to survive?” Ryder said. “Humans have always been defined by our ability to adapt, grow and learn as a species. Putting a leash that tight around your neck stiffens everything. The strongholds are blind to the fact they are stuck in a bubble. Honestly, I really thought the daughter of Thomas Reed would be more open-minded.”
Skye tilted her head to the side. How could he possibly know that?
“So you are Tom’s girl. You look just like him, and I heard you settled in Omega.”
“You knew my parents?”
“Friends of mine, for my part anyway.”
“That�
�s impossible. How …”
“Did fine upstanding citizens like your parents get to be friendly with a filthy outlaw? That’s what you’re wondering, right? I had tags just like you. Hell, I ran a whole section of the Omega wall. Just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”
“You’re from Omega?”
“Sigma till I was about eighteen. They transferred me to Omega after they had a clock increase and needed more guards. When Finch’s coup went off, fifteen or so years back, he offloaded me. If you question that guy, there’s only one way you’re going.”
“I know Finch. He’s not like that.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’ve been living there all these years and people haven’t disappeared? Talk to some of my people. They’ll tell you about the man beneath the mask.”
Skye shook her head. “You just have a different idea of freedom.”
“The system is all he cares about. If you don’t blindly follow, which I assume you do, you’re an outlaw in his eyes.”
She didn’t expect a rational conversation with this man. Ryder seemed reasonable, although deluded with his views of the world. If her parents considered him a friend once, she struggled to believe he could be all the things Finch and Rhodes described him to be. That meant someone was lying to her.
“Why didn’t my parents take you in after you lost your tags?”
“I suspect if I asked Tom, he would have, but I never did. I’m happy being free. He was a good man, and we shared a lot of the same views. He felt we should work to change the system from the inside.”
“Did you lose touch with him after that?”
“He helped us out with supplies when times were tough. Your mother too, with the sweetest apple pie I ever tasted. They were the real good guys in this whole damned mess.”
One of the few memories that always came back was her mother serving a large slice of steaming apple pie. The hint of cinnamon, buttery pastry and thick cream were almost real enough to smell in her mind. Ten years had done nothing to stop the craving.
“You’ll have to forgive me for being more than a little confused, Ryder.”
Sixth Cycle Page 9