gamma world Sooner Dead

by Mel Odom

  Instead he opened his mouth, and the strange noise came out again. When Stampede tried to swing once more, the metal man caught the bisonoid’s elbow and stopped the effort. Stampede wrenched free and swung the rifle. The metal man’s head separated from his shoulders and allowed the rifle barrel to pass through without connecting. Before Stampede could pull the weapon back, the metal man closed his fist on the barrel.

  Shifting, Stampede released the rifle and swung his left hand toward the metal man’s face in a fierce backward thrust. The metal man evaporated, and when he solidified again, he stood beside Hella. Before she could move, he wrapped one hand around her upper body and covered the side of her face with his other hand.

  Electricity shot through Hella’s brain, mixing up her senses and making her sick. Just as she felt her knees go slack, the metal man released her. She fell forward onto the floor, barely able to raise her hands to keep from smashing her face. Panicked, barely able to move, she rolled sideways. Stampede stepped forward and over her with one foot to protect her.

  The metal man held his hands up, palms out. His voice sounded like a rusty screech when he spoke, lacking the proper timbre for anything human. “No. Harm. No harm. No harm.”

  “Wait.” Hella caught Stampede’s leg and held him back.

  “Don’t know if I could hurt him anyway.” Nervousness sounded in Stampede’s voice. “I’ve heard of things like him.” He paused. “Not exactly like him. But something like him. Made up of a lot of things. Faust swore he saw one in Dallas that was made out of rats.”

  The metal man spoke more slowly, more like a human. “No. Harm.”

  Despite her spinning senses, Hella got to her feet and stared at the metal man.

  “Why’d he go for you, Red?”

  “I think it’s because of the nanobots. Somehow, he’s able to connect with them.” Hella’s thoughts ran rampant. She’d never met anyone like her, and she’d lived in fear of the nanobots coursing through her. But the metal man seemed drawn to them.

  “Don’t go there.” Stampede’s voice was gruff. “Whatever he is, that’s not where you came from. You’re not like that. Not by a long shot.”

  “No harm.” The metal man’s eyes darted back and forth between Hella and Stampede. Even though his face didn’t move, his body language, the upraised hands and the pensive glancing, spoke of desperation.

  “No harm.” Hella nodded. “We get it. No harm.” She glanced at Stampede. “Do you think maybe it would help if you lowered the rifle?”

  Hesitantly Stampede dropped the rifle barrel but held the weapon in the crook of his arm. “Sure. I can do that. Mainly because hitting him doesn’t hurt him, and I’m not convinced that shooting him would either.”

  Without another word, the metal man walked over to a corner of the room. He flew into a million pieces again for an instant, and when he re-formed, he was sitting in the corner.

  Stampede scratched his chin and twitched his ears in irritation. “You know, if he decides to leave, we can’t stop him.”

  “I’m more interested in why he’s deciding to stay.” Hella crossed the room and sat cross-legged in front of the metal man.

  He watched her, but he rested his hands on his thighs and didn’t move. “No harm. No harm.”

  “He could be some new kind of ’Chine.” Martin Wroth, the eldest of the family, stared at the metal man with black-eyed suspicion. “Just because he doesn’t look like anything we’ve ever seen before doesn’t mean he isn’t one.”

  “Doesn’t mean he is either.” Even though the family had suffered terrible losses during the night, Hella was quickly tiring of the hard way they treated the metal man.

  He sat there, as quiet and brightly alert as a small bird, with a calm face and watchful eyes. His metallic skin borrowed some of the brightness from the flames in the fireplace, and occasionally ripples ran through his body, as though his metallic flesh shifted into more comfortable space.

  “I say he’s trouble.”

  Hella shot Martin a warning glance.

  Martin Wroth was in his late forties, only a few years younger than his deceased brother. He was thin faced and balding and had tan skin from constant exposure to the elements.

  Hella knew the man was in shock and probably in touch with his own mortality. It could have just as easily been he who died earlier as it was his brother, niece, and nephew.

  “He’s not a ’Chine.” Twyla Wroth sounded satisfied about that.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because for one thing you keep referring to him as ‘he.’ You, and everybody I’ve ever talked to about those hellish things, refer to the ’Chine as ‘it.’ ” She nodded at the metal man. “This is a man.”

  Martin sat forward like a hound on point. “I’d feel better if I knew who he was, where he came from.”

  Hella stared into the silver depths of the metal man’s eyes. Every time she’d touched him, there had been some kind of connection. He had known it too. That was why he’d gone for her, used her to learn the words he’d needed to stop Stampede.

  “Hey.” She spoke softly then lifted a hand with her palm facing the metal man, and she leaned forward. “Can you talk to me?”

  The metal man turned his head quizzically then lifted his hand as well. “No harm.”

  “No harm.” Hella sighed and hoped she didn’t regret what she planned to do. “Learn.” She pushed her hand forward.

  He pulled his hand back tentatively. “No harm.”

  “No harm.” Gently Hella caught his hand and held on despite the electricity that shivered through her.

  The metal man seemed to grow a little more shiny. “No harm.” His fingers curled around hers. They felt warm and supple, no longer as hard and unrelenting.

  Hella touched her free hand to her chest and thought of herself. “Hella.”

  Tilting his head, the metal man watched her.

  “Hella.”

  The metal man’s voice sounded scratchy again then leveled out in a more human monotone. “Hel. La.”

  In spite of the electricity that raced through her at just within tolerable levels, Hella grinned. She pointed at Stampede and said his name. “Stampede.”

  “Stam. Pede.”

  Some of the Wroth children clapped at the success. The death of their family members had stunned them, but that had happened before and would again. Everyone knew that. Death was accepted, but a metal man in their big room was something they didn’t see every day.

  Even though she had seen children react in similar manners before, Hella still marveled at the resiliency of their minds. It’s survival. She knew that was true. As long as a person was alive, he or she concentrated on living. Death waited around every corner. She turned her attention back to the metal man.

  “Right.” Encouraged by the improvement, Hella smiled.

  The metal man smiled back, but the expression was a mirroring reflex, not genuine at all. Then he closed his hand over hers in a viselike grip. “Learn.”

  Adrenaline spiked through Hella’s system. The nanobots screamed. Her senses whirled and everything went black.

  “Hey.”

  The fiercest headache Hella had ever known pounded at her temples. Tears slid down her face as she struggled to remember where she was and what had happened.

  Someone nudged her again. “Hey.”

  She recognized Stampede’s voice and opened her eyes. She lay on her side and stared into the Wroths’ fireplace. When she tried to speak, her voice was dry as dust. “Did you kill him?”

  “Who?”

  “The metal man.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Can you sit up?”

  “Don’t want to.”

  Stampede wrapped his arms around her and helped her up to a sitting position.

  The metal man sat in the same corner he’d been in the previous night. He appeared relaxed and well rested. Obviously he didn’t have a headache that threatened to split his skull
. He gazed at her speculatively but didn’t move toward her. If he had, Hella was certain she would have shot him without hesitation.

  She braced herself against the wall. “Give me a minute, and I’ll kill him myself.”

  The metal man smiled.

  For the first time, Hella realized she was squinting against the light streaming in through the windows. Several of the Wroth kids had bedded down in the big room, all snoozing in sleeping bags.

  “Maybe killing Scatter isn’t such a good idea. Here. Drink this.” Stampede pressed a cup into her hands. He was dressed, his clothes worse for the wear but clean and dry again.

  “Scatter?” Hella inspected the cup and found dark liquid. She sniffed at it and decided it was coffee.

  “Scatter’s what I call him. His other name—” Stampede waved at the metal man. “Name.”

  The metal man uttered a high-pitched squeaking squeal that sounded familiar and made Hella’s teeth hurt.

  “That’s way too impossible to pronounce. Drink your coffee. You’ll feel better.”

  Actually Hella was ready to believe she’d never feel good again. “What did he do to me?”

  “May I speak?” The metal man’s—Scatter’s—dialogue sounded perfect and uninflected.

  “You can now.” Stampede grinned at that.

  “I apologize for hurting you. I did not mean to.”

  “You did a pretty good job of it.”

  “It was unavoidable. Your world is strange to me. I needed to learn where I was. Since you were amenable, I learned from you.”

  Hella stared at him. “You didn’t learn the word amenable from me. And unless it means ‘stupid and naive,’ I don’t know what it means.”

  “It means ‘willing.’ ” Stampede peered out the window. “We’ve read it in books we’ve shared, so I know you know the word.”

  Actually Hella did know the word. “It’s not one I use.”

  “Scatter pretty much learned everything you knew then he read a few books the Wroths have.” Stampede pointed toward the tall stack of books beside Scatter. Some were manuals; others were novels. “That’s only part of it. While you were sleeping—”

  “Didn’t feel like sleeping to me.”

  “—the kids took turns lugging books up and down from the Wroth library.”

  “They have a library?”

  “Yep. Surprised me too.”

  Twyla Wroth stepped into the room carrying a coffee pot and a plate. “Reading is important. It’s all we really have to hang on to our pasts and have a chance at any kind of future. My husband knows—knew—that. Sometimes we write letters for people who are traveling that can’t write those letters themselves.” She looked at Hella. “I heard your voice. Knew you were awake. You need to eat and get your strength up.”

  Hella was surprised to discover she had an appetite. Carefully, head spinning, she eased up the wall. Stampede let her manage on her own, but he stood nearby in case she needed help.

  At the table, she surveyed the bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the plate. She sat in the seat Twyla Wroth indicated. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I had pancakes.” She looked at the older woman. “Have you slept?”

  Twyla looked haggard. “Some.”

  “You should rest.”

  The older woman shook her head. “It’s easier staying busy right now. Martin and the older boys are out at the river, getting ready to put in new anchor poles.”

  “You blew up the old ones.” Scatter volunteered the information happily.

  Hella grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

  Twyla waved the apology away. “This won’t be the first time that the ferry has been repaired. Or that the Wroths have died defending it.” She sipped on her coffee.

  “Your mind is amazing, Hella.” Scatter sat in the corner and acted content. “If you had not been here, I might not have been able to learn what I needed to about this world. At least, not as quickly.”

  “This world?” Hella bit into a strip of bacon.

  “I am not from this world. I am from another. I am certain of that.”

  “You came through one of the ripples the collider created when it exploded.”

  Scatter nodded and the movement was very small, very precise. “So Stampede informed me, though I found no mention of that event in the literature that I was given.”

  Stampede stood by the fire and took advantage of the warmth. “After the collider exploded and the world turned inside out, printing books wasn’t exactly at the top of the list for survival.”

  “That is true. Still, the knowledge I have gleaned has been very useful.” Scatter looked at Hella. “If I had not been able to link with you, I would have remained lost for a long time. Finding you was like rolling a perfect twenty.”

  “A perfect twenty?” Hella savored the salty taste of the bacon and dipped a finger into the molasses that covered the pancakes.

  “On a twenty-sided die, yes.” Reaching into the pile of books, Scatter plucked out a volume that had elf warriors and knights on the cover. “I also learned what to do when we’re confronted by dragons, though Stampede tells me that will never happen.”

  “I didn’t think robots fell out of other worlds into this one.” Hella tasted the molasses, and the sweet flavor exploded in her mouth.

  “I am not a robot. I am my own person. I am—” Scatter whistle-screeched another long series of notes.

  “A fractoid.” Stampede went back to the window.

  “That is Stampede’s interpretation of what I am.” Scatter nodded. “Given the circumstances and your limited understanding of my nature, I will allow that assessment.”

  Hella winced as she chewed. The effort seemed to dislodge the pain that had taken root inside her skull.

  “Do you still have discomfort, Hella?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you enjoy discomfort?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you tolerate it?”

  Hella frowned at the metal man. “It’s not like I can just turn it off.”

  “Of course you can.” Scatters body broke apart, and he flowed to his feet. When he was once more a single creature, he was already in midstride. “Let me show you.” He reached for her head.

  CHAPTER 20

  Hella slapped away Scatter’s hand and dodged back. “Stay away from me. Last night was plenty of showing.”

  Scatter cocked his head curiously and studied her. “Trust me.”

  “No.”

  “You would rather endure pain?” Somehow the fractoid managed to convey hurt feelings though his face didn’t really express that emotion.

  “Let me finish my breakfast before I pass out again.” At least that would be a relief from the agony she was presently enduring, and she would have a full stomach, provided she kept the food down.

  “You will not pass out. I promise. Once you are free of the pain, you can better enjoy your meal.”

  Reluctantly Hella submitted herself to Scatter’s ministrations.

  “From what Stampede has told me, you are different from most sentient beings in this world.” Scatter traced his fingertips across her forehead. Only the gentlest of shocks trailed across her skin. “You have tiny robots within you. Nanobots.”

  “Yes. Other people have them.” Hella knew that from reading some of the materials she and Stampede had found in their travels and had met a few people who had nanobots that helped mental abilities manifest or maintain their health.

  “These give you a deeper control over your body than most humans have.”

  “Yes.” Hella hadn’t even heard of anyone else with nanobots inside their bodies who could morph their hands into guns or siphon raw materials through their bodies to make gunpowder propellant and bullets.

  “Yet you only use it to make pistols of your hands.”

  “That’s all I can do.”

  Scatter smiled slightly then. “No. You can do much more. You simply have to learn how to master the nanobots. Can you sense what I�
��m doing?”

  Hella concentrated on the feelings outside her temples and forehead as well as inside. Scatter had set up some kind of pattern, and the nanobots were reacting to it. Within seconds, the headache vanished.

  “I must apologize, Hella. There was damage to your cerebral cortex that I did not know about.” Scatter removed his hand.

  “I have brain damage?” The possibility scared Hella. She’d seen people who were brain damaged having seizures that eventually killed them. Most people didn’t tolerate brain-damaged individuals and left them for the wilderness to prey on. She decided then and there that she wouldn’t allow herself to become a threat to Stampede.

  “You did have brain damage. Slight brain damage. But you have brain damage no more. You have healed yourself.”

  “I did that?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Scatter picked up one of her arms and indicated a long scratch that ran along her forearm. “You healed this.”

  The previous night the cut had been deep, had maybe even needed stitches or glue. “I heal quickly. It’s just part of the nanobots.”

  “You can do more with them.” Scatter traced his forefinger along her arm. As soon as his finger touched the scratch, creating a weird shock rhythm, and moved on, only unblemished skin was left behind. “You are limiting what the nanobots can do for you.” He turned her arm over to reveal another scratch. “Here. You try to fix this one.”

  Hella concentrated, trying to recapture the rhythm Scatter had started with his touch. When she had the rhythm, she was astonished as the scratch instantly healed. “I didn’t know that I could do that.”

  “That is because you have not totally embraced your nature at this point.” Scatter looked at her with kind eyes. “You have pushed your heritage away and denied it.”

  “I don’t even know what my heritage is.” Hella looked at him hopefully.

  “Nor do I.” Scatter cocked his head to the side again. “But I do find that I am immensely intrigued. I hope this does not discomfort you.”

  At first, Hella didn’t know what to say. “I hear them sometimes.”