by Chris Bostic
To keep his mind off the struggle, Joe wondered if Jade had been right about the speed of the blaze, and whether she had been overly optimistic about their chances at escape.
Of course, when she had made that prediction, he was the one being practically carried by her.
Sweat poured off his brow. The slope steepened, causing him to slow even more to keep from dropping her.
Jade’s weight was nicely balanced on his shoulders, but the need to carry her feet to keep her from dragging was much tougher on his arm. His muscles burned from the exertion, and his footsteps slowed until he felt like he could barely go on.
“Don’t quit,” Leisa chided, though he thought it looked like she was ready to herself.
Maybe she’s psyching up herself, he thought. Whatever it takes.
It was harder to dodge trees and miss the bushes. The spiky vines grabbed at their clothes, ripping at the fabric. The vegetation grew denser the lower Joe went, and he realized that it was oddly a good sign. The closer they got to the creek, the more treacherous the path.
“I’m losing her,” Joe said, as he slipped on a boulder.
“We’ve got this,” Leisa mumbled.
He leaned hard to the side to keep up with her jog around an odd tree cluster. Three trunks grew out of the same stump, forming a formidable obstacle.
In looking at the abnormality, he forgot to watch his footing. He twisted his ankle on a rock and had no strength to recover.
Jade lurched off his shoulder, collapsing onto Leisa. Ignoring the shooting pain, he scrambled to grab for them.
Leisa ended up flat on her back staring at the tree canopy. “This sucks,” she muttered.
“Sorry about that.” He pulled the lifeless Jade to the side and offered Leisa a hand.
She accepted and slowly got to her feet. “It’s not your fault.”
“It kind of is.”
Leisa bent over to catch her breath. “I tripped a bunch of times. It was gonna happen eventually.”
Joe nodded. He reached down to pick up Jade. “Let’s get her-”
And then he heard an unusual sound.
“What?” Leisa said, instantly on high alert.
The howling Joe had heard morphed to a high-pitched whine. He swore it was some type of injured animal, but discounted that idea. Even with woods that dense, many of the larger forest creatures had been exterminated years before by starving peasants and government weapons testing.
“I dunno,” he said. “But it sounds awful.”
Leisa nudged him. “Let’s keep moving.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but anything was better than waiting around for the fire to catch up to them—or the animal.
As they picked up Jade and started downhill again, he wondered if it hadn’t been the sound of the blaze. It wasn’t uncommon for green wood to whistle and scream as water evaporated at a rapid pace. The heat of the fire was plenty able to do that. Joe could practically feel his own skin screaming even though the inferno remained more a flicker of light than firestorm.
Joe froze. “There it is again.”
Leisa’s eyes ballooned. “I heard it that time. That’s, uhm…”
“Craziest thing I’ve ever heard…and we’re headed right toward it.”
Leisa slowed. Joe’s arms ached as he supported Jade.
This isn’t working, he thought.
“Take my coilgun. I’ll take her,” he said, handing over his weapon to Leisa. She slung his over her shoulder and gripped her own tightly. “Might as well see what that is. Be ready to shoot.”
Joe bent at the waist and threw Jade over his shoulder. He found it easier to walk that way, rather than uncomfortably balancing her between himself and Leisa.
Though he plodded downhill, careful to go slow on the steeper parts, he was actually able to get there quicker. All the while, the squealing grew in volume.
Joe stepped through a thick cluster of thorny bushes and found himself inches away from the creek. Cool water babbled around stones ranging in size from palm-sized cobbles to boulders. It wouldn’t take him more than four big steps to cross the stream, but it looked inviting all the same.
The squealing grew even louder, from around a bend to his left. A deep, undecipherable bellow joined in. That one definitely sounded human. Between the popping of the fire behind him and the babbling of the stream, it was a muddled cluster of indistinguishable sound.
Without pausing, Joe headed toward the racket. It could have been a team of IFP scouts for all he knew, but he was to the point that he had nothing to lose and no more energy to go on.
“I’ll lead,” Leisa said, jumping in front of him with rifle raised.
She didn’t go more than a dozen paces before she pulled up short, hand raised to stop him. Joe nearly ran up her back, and staggered to the side.
“Shhh,” she commanded.
He looked at her curiously, no longer feeling the hammer of adrenaline in his veins.
A gruff voice carried to them from directly ahead. Close. Very close.
“Dammit, sit still,” barked the man.
“Is that…”
The words died in Joe’s throat when the man spoken again. “Remind me again why we brought the walking garbage can.”
“Connie!” Leisa shouted.
There was no relief to flood through him that time. Joe was dead tired to the point of non-feeling. All he knew was that Jade needed help, and there was finally a chance. But not with that infernal squealing—not to mention the fire bearing down on them.
Connie appeared in Joe’s field of vision. Even in the dusky shadows, Joe could tell he was not himself. His face was blackened with soot, his clothes torn. A strip had been ripped off his t-shirt and used to bandage a wound on his upper arm. Blood soaked through the dark material.
“Sarge!” Leisa said. “We found you.”
“About time,” he deadpanned. “Been waiting for you two.” His expression softened the second he saw past her to Jade propped over Joe’s shoulder. “What happened?”
“She got too hot. She passed out,” Joe said, feeling like he was about to pass out himself.
“Let me have her.” Connie hurried to Joe and held his arms out. Joe was happy to drop her into his sergeant’s burly arms. He made her look like a child.
The squeal, having momentarily quieted, started up again. Joe had heard loose belts on old vehicles sound more pleasing to his ears, and he stepped to the side to get a glimpse around Connie.
Smig was nestled against a tree. Joe blinked and realized it was only half of him. The lower half of Smig’s torso was completely missing. Wires dangled out of his body.
As Joe stared dumbfounded, Mira came shooting out of the woods, swinging from branch to branch like a chimpanzee.
“I can’t locate them,” she told Connie.
“Who?” Leisa asked.
“The dogs,” he grumbled. “They’re supposed to be finding the others. Everything went to hell when that hover struck.” He laid Jade gently onto the ground next to what was left of Smig and looked back up at Leisa and Joe. “At least you had the good sense to go low when the fire started.”
“It always races uphill,” Joe said.
Connie put a dirty hand to Jade’s forehead and frowned. “I knew I trained you right. But enough of that.” He turned to Smig and bellowed, “Can you fix her?”
“Why are you yelling?” Joe asked his sergeant.
“We believe his hearing has been damaged. Or he’s fading in and out. Either way, the yelling seems to work,” Mira explained without betraying the slightest emotion. If anything, it appeared to Joe like she was grinning as she hopped from one foot to the other.
“Can you help her?” Joe asked Mira.
She smiled again. “I’m not good at that. I’m better at other tasks, like finding people.”
“Then go do that,” Connie ordered as he held Jade’s hand. “Maybe we should soak her? What do you think, Tin Can?”
&nb
sp; The squealing stopped. Smig’s green eyes were so dulled that even in the low light Joe could barely tell they were lit. Still, he managed to say, “No.” His body rattled, and the squealing started again. “My arm. Closer.”
“What about it?” Connie ran a hand through this disheveled hair.
“I think he wants to plug into her,” Joe said, matching his sergeant’s volume. It reminded him of talking to his grandfather years before, who had been particularly hard of hearing.
Connie didn’t lower his voice, even for the insensitive parts. “He’s messed up. What if he screws her up too?”
“I won’t,” Smig said, his voice sounding tinny and far away.
“I’d do it.” Joe sank down next to Jade. Connie sat back while Joe brushed aside the hair at the back of her neck.
“Must be some kind of reset button,” he mumbled, but found nothing obvious. A nearly seamless flap of skin covered the access to her inner workings.
Joe brushed her hair back, and picked up her arm to look at her wrist.
“Yes.” Smig’s voice seemed capable of no more than a couple words at a time. “Right there.”
“Fine,” Connie told the battered creation. “Work your magic on my girl.”
Smig groaned and tried to roll, though he honestly did look to Joe like a dented trash can lying on its side. Joe pulled her arm closer to him.
“Apologize,” Smig croaked without his jaw moving.
Joe looked to Connie.
“I’m sorry I called you a tin can,” he said.
“No.” Smig rocked as if he was trying to shake his immobile head.
“I think he means to Jade.”
“Oh, uhm…I will when she wakes up.”
“Yes. I think so.” A terrible metallic screech pierced the woods as Smig extended an arm. From his stub, the cable extended toward Jade’s wrist, squealing the entire way.
“Dang, he needs a serious greasing,” Connie told Joe under his breath. “I just hope this works.”
Joe nodded. “We all do.”
He stood and walked over to Leisa while Smig worked on his baby sister. Her look was question enough, and he could only shrug.
“How’s the fire?” he asked.
“We’ve got time.”
He agreed, squinting into the darkness and not catching sight of any flames. But the air was hot and pungent enough that he knew they wouldn’t have long. At least the heat and smoke would be enough to camouflage themselves from any inquiring IFP patrols or others.
Joe looked back to Smig and noticed his green eyes had faded significantly. He couldn’t be sure if they were on anymore, and took a tentative step back toward the androids.
“Are you…” Joe let the question fade away as he looked at both the lifeless Jade and her equally unresponsive brother.
He was sure they were both gone. Smig definitely didn’t look like he was coming back. An ache gripped his chest. These guys really were his family, he realized, and he couldn’t bear to lose them. Especially Jade, but even the steady-handed Smig had proven himself as loyal and helpful as anyone he’d ever known.
The night grew eerily quiet, as if the world had stopped while the two androids had left them.
But only for a moment.
In the distance, a rush of heat shoved toward them like a blast furnace. Joe shielded his face, and was relieved to find that the fire still wasn’t too close yet. It was very hot, but only because of a sudden change in the wind direction.
Before he could wonder about that, something whirred and buzzed inside Smig. Joe kneeled next to him. He listened as the whirring changed back to the piercing squealing that reminded him of his dad’s old truck.
He grabbed for his ears, but the sound stopped before he could get them covered. Smig flinched and stilled again. Jade shot upright a second later.
“Smig!” she shouted, immediately awake and deeply concerned.
There was no reply.
“Stay with me,” she said, running her hands over his dented exterior. “I can’t do it without you.”
Smig’s eyes brightened the slightest, but only for a second.
“Of course…you can.” Smig’s eyes dimmed. “You’re their…only hope.”
“I can’t fix you. I can’t fix anything.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Smig made no further movements. Not even a sound.
Jade leaned her head against him. She sat unmoving for what seemed like minutes—and then convulsed. Her lithe body wracked with sobs.
The raw emotion from the mechanical girl was so shocking to Joe that he took a numb step back and nearly fell over.
Joe had seen plenty of people die, both up in the hills at the hands and gnashing teeth of the savages, and in the prison camp at the whim of the brutal guards. Every single one had affected him deeply. Unfortunately, this turned out to be no different.
CHAPTER 24
Joe stumbled farther away and tried to force himself out of the moment. But seeing and hearing the devastation in the sweet, kind soul that was Jade had left him numb. Leisa took his hands and he fell into her.
“This is crazy,” he mumbled.
“I know.” Leisa laid her head on his shoulder, but only for a second. “I’m sorry, but…uhm, you know what we need to do.”
He nodded and looked over at his sergeant. The big man had slumped against a tree. He appeared as out of his element as humanly possible as he watched Jade sob.
Joe had never seen Connie grieve before other than a few short, private words when his second-in-command had fallen in the savage hills. The pain once again seemed thinly masked.
Leisa nudged Joe. “Let’s get him moving.”
“Yeah, I reckon he’s regretting some things,” Joe mumbled.
“We all are.”
Joe decided Leisa might be better equipped to talk to Connie, so he went to Jade. The weeping hadn’t slowed.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing her back. “We need to get you out of here. It’s much too hot.”
Jade nodded but refused to let go.
“We can’t have you passing out again.”
“He gave me all he had left.” Jade looked at Joe, and he saw what appeared to be tears streaming from her eyes.
“Unholy alliance,” he uttered. “You’re actually crying.”
“I am one hundred percent anatomically correct,” she said, echoing the words from when he’d first met her at the prison camp.
“And fragile as a flower,” Connie barked from behind Joe. “You’re such a girl.”
Joe whirled around. “You’re back to normal.”
Jade raced past and launched herself into Connie’s outstretched arms. “Are you okay, Sarge?”
“Never better, darling.”
“I’ll bet you tell that to all the androids,” Leisa quipped.
Connie shot Leisa a sharp look. Joe couldn’t fight off the grin, also drawing his sergeant’s disapproving glance.
“Let’s head out, darling,” he said, sitting Jade down after having spun her around. “Are you okay to walk?”
“Yes, but…”
Jade looked back toward Smig. Joe got the idea she was going to ask them to bury him. Instead, she said, “Can we bring him with us? Please.”
“That bucket-” Connie caught himself. “I mean, I guess…”
Joe jumped in to ask, “Can he be, uhm, restored?”
“Maybe, if my creator can look at him. He might be able to salvage some parts.” Jade batted her eyelashes at Connie. “Please, Sarge. We can’t let him burn.”
“Fine. Of course.”
Half of three hundred pounds was no small amount. Joe went over to see if he could lift him, but Smig was a little too bulky. With his sergeant’s help, he latched onto one side and Connie took the other.
They carried him to the edge of the stream and decided to follow it without needing any discussion. Smoke blanketed the area farther up the hillside, and the fire chased them down from behind. So it wasn’t
like they had a better option.
Mira came bounding back over before they made it thirty yards. She pulled up short when she saw Joe and Connie carrying her brother, but seemed surprisingly unconcerned.
“He pass out?” she asked.
“Something like that,” Joe answered, watching Jade out of the corner of his eye to see if she would break down again.
Mira didn’t catch the hint. She kept jabbering on about how she hadn’t been able to locate the others, though she thought she’d found a trail farther up the hillside.
“Absolutely not,” Connie said. “Your, uhm, brother is way too heavy to lug him up the hill.”
“Then leave him here,” Mira said. “We’ll come back.”
“We will not,” Jade said, her first words in minutes. “You go check it out. If you find anyone else, bring them down here.”
“But I don’t like water,” she whimpered. “It’s not safe.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when we were on the boat,” Joe noted.
“It’s boring down here,” she said, changing her story. “The action is all up top.”
“Well, it sure beats getting burned alive,” Connie replied. “Or climbing a hill while carrying a friggin’ tank.”
Mira didn’t argue further. She scampered off once again to try to find the others. The group continued downstream. No one spoke for a while. Joe’s breathing labored. If he had struggled carrying Jade before with Leisa, he was practically dying then.
His eyes narrowed. He felt the light draining from them much like the way Smig’s had faded. Fortunately, Connie was back in full make-up mode with Jade, and his clumsy attempts at flirting brought a little levity to the dire situation.
“You know, you’re much lighter, darling,” Connie told her. “Maybe I could carry you for a while.”
“Oh, Sarge,” she giggled, seeming to have already forgotten how rude he had been to her earlier.
“I’d carry you anywhere you want to go,” he rambled. “All day long.”
“I’m sure you could,” she said. “You’re very strong.”
“You betcha, little lady. Hop on up here.” Connie patted Smig’s side with his free hand. The hollow thunk didn’t seem to bother him, but Jade hitched at the gesture.