by KM Fortune
Blaze nodded. With the Patrols so restless, they could not let an opportunity to hunt pass. “Let’s go tell the others,” he said and followed her back into the building.
Raven stopped walking at an intersection along the highway. No signs revealed where she came from or where she was going. The crossing road seemed smaller than the one she stood on, but it too gave away nothing about where it lead. Unbelievable, she thought feeling frustrated. What she could remember of her world, there were signs everywhere she looked. She had no idea what city she came from exactly, but from the glimpses she did remember, it had been a busy one she was sure. Nothing like this. Raven sighed and decided it was time for a rest. She had no idea how long she had been walking except the weak morning sun was now high in the sky, and an exceptionally cold wind was blowing across the flat terrain right into her face. Looking around, she wondered how far she had come since leaving the mountain laboratory. A hundred miles at least. The jeep helped. Walking was slow on the mountain and not in a straight line. Paralleling the highway moved her along quicker and her hour or so of driving the night before, even with having to navigate the potholes and washouts, had added at least forty miles to the total. All along the highway, she had kept an eye out for any downed road signs or wayside stations, but the terrain revealed very little. Everything was either covered in a layer of snow or faded so much it was not legible. She was not even sure how many days had passed since she escaped, but she guessed it was weeks, maybe even a month. It was hard to keep track with nothing to refer to and no one to ask.
Not that time matters much at the moment, Raven thought. It's not like anyone is waiting for me or I have a hot date. Frankly, all that mattered currently was finding some water. Food too, if possible, but definitely water. It was at least a full day since she drank anything and dehydration was starting to affect her. Her throat felt hot, and her tongue was sticky in her mouth. She was not sure how long she could keep walking without water, but she thought three days would be about the end. At one point she had even considered turning around to get back to the mountains. There was water there or at least plenty of clean snow she could melt if the sun would ever shine through the gray clouds again. But without the use of the jeep, Raven knew she would not make it over the distance in time. I will just have to find a way forward, she thought. I have come this far, and I refuse to let this be my end.
Feeling more determined, Raven stared off into the distance, letting her eyes follow the new road until it disappeared on the horizon. There was a pile of rubble about a quarter mile away. Gas station? An old mini-mart? she thought. It was too far to tell for certain, especially considering it looked like nothing but a square foundation of cement where only a corner and one wall remained. Some long rusted piece of metal stuck out of the ground. If it was once a sign, there was nothing left to read now. With no better options, Raven walked toward the remains thinking, for now, they would serve her well enough. The one remaining wall would block her from the wind while she sat down to rest and considered her next move.
AS LATE AFTERNOON APPROACHED, Kit stood at the intersection. She had followed the hermit’s path down the highway and, about four hours before, came across the jeep he had taken from the cat mutant. The jeep had been empty and cold to the touch, but no footprints led away from the road, so Kit guessed the stranger had stuck to his previous strategy and followed The Old Road. Unfortunately, now there are two roads, Kit thought as the cold wind tugged at her cloak’s hood. Frowning, she scanned the ground for scuff marks but saw the wind had blown away anything obvious. Pulling back her hood for a clearer view, she turned in a slow circle and looked along the horizon in all directions hoping to see a figure in the distance. Nothing. She sighed. There was no way to tell which of the other three directions the stranger had gone.
The only good news in the situation was Kit was now only about three miles from her clan’s hideout. If she could not find the trail of her now missing hermit, she would at least have the option of heading back to a warm fire and an evening with her people. She missed Willow and Blaze and especially little Mouse when she was away on her scouts. Unfortunately, she did not have much to show for her trip this time out. All she had was the gear she was carrying which the stranger left behind, but she would not give it away as gifts yet.
In the few times she had stopped to rest and take food and water from one of her caches, she looked through the hermit’s meager possessions. Only one of the items impressed her. The paperback novel. Kit had come across a number of books and faded magazines in her travels. They were from the Before, and some of the pictures were curious, but Kit could not make heads or tails of the black squiggles. Willow once explained to Kit the squiggles were called “words” and that the books told “stories.” Kit did not quite understand how it worked and Willow did not know any other details. She could not actually read the squiggles, the explanation was just something taught to her when she had been a little girl.
It made it all the more curious to find a torn up book in the possession of the stranger. Why take on the extra weight? Does this funny person know how to make something of the squiggles? After all, the hermit could easily drive a car, which was incredible in itself. Even though Kit was continually confused by choices the hermit made, like walking out in the open along The Old Road, she knew in her heart this stranger was unique and very different than any of the nomads or the Patrols.
Before starting back the way she came to search along the other side of The Old Road to make sure the hermit had not veered off somewhere without her noticing, Kit decided to take a moment and duck out of the wind to have a small meal. She saw the familiar rubble of an old building not far down the smaller road. She had visited it many times. Almost nothing remained standing, but one corner and part of the front wall was still there, and it would prove decent enough shelter from the wind. Plus it kept her hidden from easy view if the Patrols or a mutant came along. Kit moved to the ruins, ducked around the corner of the remaining wall, and froze. She did not even breathe, not wanting to make a single sound. In the corner, hidden from the road, slept the hermit.
CHAPTER 9
KIT STOOD FROZEN IN place. The stranger she had been tracking for days was resting against a toppled pile of bricks and was sound asleep. The tan coat hood had slipped back from the hermit’s face, and a strip of a blue blanket was wrapped around her neck like a scarf. It’s a woman, Kit thought completely surprised. The idea the hermit was female never crossed her mind, even though she knew a few women among the human nomads were cunning and strong. Willow, for one, the leader of her clan, was a powerful female. Still, it was rare. Life on the plains was brutal, and women were hunted in particular. To find one alone, hiding in the mountains near the Great Cave and then walking The Old Road is crazy. Kit could hardly believe it even though the proof was right in front of her.
Intrigued, she squatted down on her heels and gazed inquisitively at the sleeping form. Kit had never seen anyone like her. Her face was so smooth and pale Kit almost had to reach out and touch it. The hair on the woman’s head was short, not much more than one inch of stubble, but it was dark and covered her head like a black cap coming to a shallow widow's peak on her forehead. Below it, dark eyebrows framed closed eyes. Her cheeks were rosy in the cold air, and her lips were a soft pink. Kit realized it was like looking at one of the glossy, color photographs she sometimes found and what Willow called a “magazine.” Kit never realized the pictures could be a real person.
The woman stirred, shifting her coat around her. Kit braced herself to bolt if the stranger awoke, but then she settled back into sleep without opening her eyes. Relaxing a little Kit, looked around and saw the hermit carried almost nothing with her since taking the jeep from the mutant. Then her eyes landed on the rifle.
MATTHEW WAS JOSTLED as the large Patrol truck lumbered down the old highway. He rode in the back with another nineteen men, all seasoned soldiers. With his short hair and clean-shaven face, he stood out like a sore th
umb. The fact he was dropped into a platoon while still in the middle of recruit training had angered all of the other men. In fact, a loud bout of arguing had broken out between the Patrol's squad leader and the platoon officer when Matthew arrived. It was clear Matthew was considered a liability and was not wanted. Wait until they figure out I’m the one who let Raven escape and then they will really be hostile, he thought. I’ll be lucky not to get shot in the back. The thought was more than a little unsettling, but Matthew resolved to keep calm and see where this new path took him. Thankfully, overreacting was not in his genetic makeup.
A second truck, similar to the one he rode in, followed. Another twenty men were in it. Everyone was armed with rifles. Some wore combat knives or machetes. Each man was dressed the same in the Patrol’s signature black and gray camo uniforms. Only the platoon officer wore rank. A large gold cross on a chain around his neck. Matthew had no idea where exactly the trucks were going. In this regard, he was no different than any other soldier. Matthew had learned quickly that soldiers in the ranks were told nothing until it was time to move. All he did know was they had been riding for half a day, and they were well into the plains. He had heard other men around him whisper they were on a crusade. If the rumors were true, it would explain the third empty truck at the end of their caravan. Extra space to take back female captives from the Waste People, he thought sadly. In his heart, he knew this latest rampage ordered by the elders in Eden was triggered by his actions. If he had not let Raven go free, none of the following events would have taken place. Now innocent people will die. He surprised himself by being so concerned about the fate of the people on the plains. Until a month ago, they had meant nothing to him. They were no more relevant than the sheep kept in pens inside of Eden. Is it because I think Raven might be among them? he wondered. Or have I changed? He could not be sure.
NORMALLY, KIT WOULD move to snatch the firearm without a second thought. Her people were always in need of guns and bullets, but in this case, she paused. The hermit, this woman, was not only different from anyone she had ever met, but Kit felt somehow she was significant. This must be who the Patrols are looking for, she thought. If they are so concerned about finding her, there must be a strong reason. It was evident the men from the Great Cave saw her as an enemy, and it was all the more reason Kit wanted to help the woman. Any enemy of the Patrols is a friend of mine. Kit left the gun where it sat resting against the wall and slowly took the pack of the stranger’s gear she carried and laid it along the wall near the rifle. As an afterthought, Kit took the canteen she wore draped over her shoulder under her cloak and left it too. Water was plentiful on the plains, but only if you knew where to find it. No springs were near The Old Road, so Kit had a hunch the woman was thirsty.
After placing the items, Kit slipped back into the desert beside the road. She was relatively close to home, only a few miles or so, in a straight line across the plain, but she hesitated to leave the woman alone, sleeping, and unprotected. She had not seen any of the Patrols recently, but it did not mean they were not still looking. Plus there were always mutants, especially the now enraged cat mutant, who were always a threat. Settling down to wait, Kit thought she would stay put until dark and then make a quick trip back to the clan’s shelter to talk to Willow and Blaze about what she had found. They will know what to do.
BLAZE AND WILLOW AND a few other men from the clan moved stealthily across the tall grass and thin snow of the high desert. They carried an assortment of weapons. Blaze was armed with a bow and arrows. He had painstakingly made all of it from Sierra juniper and salvaged metal. Willow and the other men carried spears on long poles or clubs. They were in search of any game. Fresh meat was essential to the survival of their band and with the Patrols being so aggressive lately the window to hunt was very narrow.
They had been out all day, and now the sun overhead was moving onward toward early evening. The group moved in a stretched out line over the open land looking for prey. So far they had flushed out a half dozen jackrabbits and successfully clubbed them. The meat would be tough and stringy but would be perfect for stew. Unfortunately, those few kills would not be enough to feed the clan for long. Blaze knew they needed to bring down one or two deer to feed the whole group for a while and to do so they had to hope luck would lead them to a herd.
The line of hunters was about three miles from the shelter they called home. Blaze knew they would soon be coming to a road, which eventually intersected with The Old Road. Blaze was leery of getting too close. Patrols in jeeps and trucks used The Old Road to come down from the mountains and even though lately they had been spreading out on foot, it was never safe to stay close to the old highway for long. The only advantage was the road was long and straight and allowed a hunter to see someone coming from a good distance off.
IN THE DISTANCE, KIT heard a sound. It was faint and far away still, but coming on fast and from the direction of the road. Kit lowered her hands to the ground and felt a tremble through her palms confirming what she already guessed. Something big was riding down The Old Road toward the intersection, and it could only mean the Patrols were coming. Mutants sometimes drove stolen jeeps, refurbished cars, or motorcycles, but never large trucks. The rumble she heard was definitely being caused by something big. The realization sent a shiver down her spine. The Patrols only used the large trucks for roundups. Times when they knew they were going to capture female nomads to take back to the Great Cave. Kit worried for her clan. Did the Patrols have a bead on their hideout? Had something gone wrong?
Kit was caught in a quandary, which lasted only a moment. To stay and watch over the stranger or make a run for her clan’s shelter to warn them. There was no contest. Her own people were the only thing which really mattered in the end, and she sprang from her hiding spot at a dead run. Weariness from days of little sleep and the many miles jogged while following the hermit were forgotten as she raced over the ground toward home.
CHAPTER 10
HECTOR PRESSED HIS body flat against the ground and peeked at the highway through the scrub brush. With his excellent hearing, he could hear the rumble of the oncoming truck and knew it had to be the Patrols. Nobody else on the plains had fuel enough to drive something so big and so fast. Don’t move a whisker, he thought kicking himself for being lazy and traveling out in the open along The Old Road. All because that thief took my jeep. If these bastards see me, I've got a real problem.
The trucks roared up the road and blew past where he hid, not even slowing for the potholes. Hector peeked to watch them go by and was surprised to see it was not only one truck, but three of them with a jeep leading the way. A regular caravan. It was obvious they were in a big hurry to get somewhere. After a minute, the vehicles were well past, and he raised his head to watch them roll away. Wow, he thought. Those guys are hell bent on getting somewhere. When it was unlikely anyone in the truck would see him, he stood up and shook himself free of the clinging snow. He grimaced. The only thing he hated worse than the snow was water. Having to lay down in it only made him more furious at the man who stole his jeep. Unfortunately, the direction the thief was going was exactly the same way the caravan was headed. Hector was torn. Do I continue to follow the thief and risk running into the mess of Patrols or do I cut bait and find someone else to harass? It was a tough decision, and he growled deep in his throat in frustration. He really wanted to rip the guts out of the man who ran off with his stuff.
A LOW RUMBLE OF SOUND jerked Raven awake. She could not immediately place the noise or her surroundings and started to stand up. Her legs cramped before she could move far and she sank back down with a low moan. The thirst in her throat scratched with the sound she made, and she suddenly remembered where she was. Blinking, she looked around quickly, still hearing the strange sound which had awakened her. A truck? she thought. Whatever it was, it sounded big and loud, and instinctively Raven knew she should hide. With very few options, she pushed the debris and loose bricks apart around here and burrowed in as best sh
e could. Reaching out she grabbed her rifle and started to pull it under the rubble with her when she noticed some things had changed. Her rolled up pack of gear from the mountain cabin was beside the gun. As was her walking stick. She blinked. When she decided to jump in and steal the jeep, she unthinkingly left everything behind yet here it was, resting against the wall near where she had been asleep. Then she saw something else next to the rifle. A canteen. Oh please let that be full of water.
Now she was in a quandary. She licked her parched lips and stared at the canteen. How long until the truck I hear gets here? she wondered. I only need a second. Risking it, Raven scrambled back out of hiding and reached for the canteen. The contents sloshed and it felt heavy like it was full. Raven knew it was impossible that it materialized out of the blue, but she did not hesitate. What if this is only a dream and I’m still asleep? It did not matter. She was thirsty, and it was possible she was holding drinking water. The sound of the truck grew louder, and Raven scrambled back into the rubble with the canteen in hand. She unscrewed the cap and did not bother to smell the contents. If it kills me, so be it. Taking a long drink from the container, Raven gasped as the cold water ran down her throat. It was like ice, but it tasted so good she quickly swallowed again, trying hard not to guzzle it, but wanting to drink it all. Forcing herself to stop, Raven turned her attention back to the sound coming from the highway. Something was definitely coming. Both anxious and curious, she carefully peered through a hole in the wall left long ago by a fallen brick, and scanned up the highway she had been walking on earlier. In the distance, a jeep followed by three large gray and black trucks, something like what would be used as an Army transport, were driving fast toward the intersection where she was hiding. A large gold cross was painted on each of the doors. Patrols! she thought, thinking back to what Matthew had called them and remembering the close call on the mountain. Are they sending all these trucks after me? It seemed crazy. She knew they did not like women in their strange underground colony and wanted to kill her to find out if she was fertile. But why in the world would they go to so much effort now?