“What is this for?” he asked, unsure what to do with the technology that he guessed was alien in its origin.
“Oh,” Soares said, leaning over and tapping the black screen to bring it to life.
“Is this…” Cole asked uncertainly. “Is this their technology? Did we steal it?”
“What? No! It’s a tablet.” Soares shook his head as if he didn’t even know where to start so he didn’t bother. “See the map? See our position in the center?”
Cole did, tentatively touching the screen like he’d seen others do when using technology similar to this and making the blue dot in the middle of the display shrink as more detail came into focus around the edges. He stopped when other colored dots showed on the display and turned the screen towards Soares.
“Trackers and Seekers,” he told him. “That thing you took out opened the door for us, in lots of ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind,” Soares said, reaching out to take the tablet. Cole kept hold of it, zooming out until the whole continent came into unfocused view.
“Can we see the others on here?” he asked. “Can we see where Li— where Alec is?”
“Of course not, dumbass,” Soares said, extending his reach to snatch the pad. “I’m sure you’d be really grateful to them if they were captured and gave the birdbrains a homing device direct to you.”
“Yeah,” Cole said, feeling foolish for not considering that obvious fact. “Opsec?” he asked, repeating a word he hadn’t heard spoken for many years.
“Hell yeah,” Soares agreed. “Where’d you learn that anyway?”
Cole shrugged. “Just something I heard a while ago.”
“Did your… did Tom teach you that?”
Cole said nothing, rising to his feet and walking towards his quad.
“We should get going,” he said, peering through a grimy window at the setting sun. “Make good ground before we have to walk into the city, and I’m guessing we have to avoid their supply warehouse routes, which’ll slow us considerably.”
As Cole settled himself over the worn saddle of the bike, he thought about his brother; about how he and Monet had hitched a ride in the back of a semi. A thought hit him, making his fingers pause over the switch to start the engine.
“The Occupation stays out of the old city centers, that right?” he asked, repeating what Tom had told him but realizing he’d never been given a reason why they avoided the areas.
“Yeah, and before you ask, no, I don’t know why.”
They rode, maintaining a steady pace of about twenty miles per hour as they weaved the handlebars left and right to keep the knobby tires of the quads on the smoothest sections of overgrown road. The star-filled sky lit their way well enough, and Cole guessed their departure must’ve been carefully planned to coincide with the lunar cycle.
True to Soares’ word, the engines were unnaturally quiet compared with others he’d heard, but he still worried that they were making too much noise by moving so openly and fast. That concern helped keep him focused.
He’d expected it to be hard on his lower body, but the real strain was felt through his arms and shoulders as he constantly fought to keep the handlebars in the right position. By the time the sun created a glow on the horizon ahead of him, that ache had spread up his neck and through his seized shoulders.
“This’ll do,” Soares said, pointing to a side road leading uphill into a copse of thick trees.
There stood a rusty-walled, ordinary metal barn. He ducked low over the handlebars and drove his quad straight under the low branches of a pine tree. Cole followed suit, killing the engine as soon as he came to a stop.
“I’ll fill up the quads,” Soares said, unstrapping the black can from under his pack. “You go see what’s around us but keep it quiet.” Cole pulled his pack free and slipped his stiff arms through the straps before lifting his shotgun from the padded cradle. He dropped low from the raised bluff they’d parked on, walking a slow circle around their chosen spot with half an eye out for signs of game and the rest of his attention on the sounds of the woodland in case Soares’ magic screen didn’t show all of the drones.
A rabbit, full-grown and strong, stood upright on its hind legs ten paces from him. Cole froze, aware of how easily he could spook his food and not even dreaming of using the shotgun. He kept watching the animal, which returned his stare, and slipped off his pack with careful movements in spite of his cramped muscles and retrieved the loop of pliable wire from the top pouch.
If the rabbits in that area were doing well, which the specimen opposite him clearly was, then he’d have no trouble catching one with a simple snare. And given how much green wood there was in the woods to use as an anchor, making one would take no effort.
He didn’t try to be clever and set up a spring trap, but simply looped the wire and tied it to a springy branch before setting the business end on the ground where the faint sign of tiny feet left a trail for eyes that knew what to look for. He used branches and leaves to build a visual tunnel directing a rabbit into the loop and stepped away, happy with his quick work. As he stood, he was surprised to see the animal still there, watching him. With the urge to laugh, he reckoned there was literally nothing for the rabbits in this area to fear from humans, as this one had clearly never seen enough of their nature to associate them with danger.
He stepped away and ducked out of sight of the rabbit to test his theory. To his—or to be specific, to his stomach’s—delight, the creature hopped forwards to see where the strange thing had gone.
“That’s right,” Cole whispered reassuringly. “Keep coming.”
“Took your time,” Soares chided him quietly when he walked to the top of their small rise.
“Reckon we could hide a fire in that barn?” Cole asked. Soares stared at the building then at Cole.
“Why? You cold?” he asked, then allowed his mouth to drop open before creasing up into that same smile that transformed his face when Cole held up what had to be the current world record for the fastest snare.
The barn, which was more of an oversized shed, was full of holes, but it kept the wind off them enough that their small fire allowed them to sit beside it and roast slices of rabbit meat on rusty metal rods they’d found inside. Soares added something from a glass bottle he carried in his pack, telling Cole it would put hairs on his chest.
He coughed as he chewed the greasy meat; his eyes watering as the thing called Tabasco tried to kill him with fire.
“You knew Tom,” Cole said when the two had lapsed into comfortable silence in the dying light of the fire. “Before, I mean.”
“Yes and no,” Soares said. “I was with Tom when he was the CO of my old unit. Back then, he was a real career climber; not in a bad way—he was no politician—but he was good at everything. Kind of a lucky charm to the other Marines, you know?”
Cole nodded along with him, still trying to marry up the Tom he’d known as a child with the one being described to him; a senior officer in the military who was liked and respected, loved even by the sound of it.
“So you were in the Army too?”
“Go wash your damned mouth out, boy!” Soares snapped, making him jump in fright before the soft laughter brought him down to Earth.
“I was a United States Marine, and… Tom was a Colonel—that’s a pretty high-up guy. I was an E-3, Lance Corporal, and I left to become a Capitol cop.”
Cole assimilated the knowledge he’d recently acquired and opened his mouth to ask the next logical question.
“Get some sleep, kid,” Soares said before he could ask it. “You’re gonna need it.”
Chapter 10
Lina
Lina collapsed into the chair, erupting a cloud of dust around her that even Buddy shied away from. All romance and adventure had gone from their journey once the harsh reality had sunk into her bones.
She was exhausted after the hard night’s walk, having kept out of the daylight when they broke free of t
he dense tree cover of the foothills. The coyote seemed fine with the distance, but she reckoned he was built for it and wasn’t carrying a pack and a gun. It was the gun that made it difficult because she couldn’t swing her arms or brace a hand against a knee when climbing, and that added strain all seemed to go through her, causing her entire body to ache.
She watched Buddy, panting, sitting on a thick rug and relaxing with his tongue out. He looked at her as if to ask what her problem was. He’d been helpful on their journey, twice stopping as he ranged out a little way ahead of them, and both times, the hair along his spine stood on end and he went either left or right to avoid whatever it was ahead that had spooked him.
Monet called bear both times, even though there was no obvious sign of one, but Lina had spent a few tense miles wondering what other predators there were in the area.
The abandoned cottage was run down, which Lina thought was a shame because she’d have loved to find a fire already lit and enough water to heat up for a bath. Even a wash. Even to drink.
“You want to stay here and check the place out or go to the ridge for water?” Monet asked. She stood, reluctantly and stiffly, saying she’d fetch water. She already felt a little too much like a passenger after the time of doing nothing worthwhile in the bunker and wanted to prove herself by offering to do the more difficult jobs sometimes. Especially when she didn’t much feel like it, because she knew if she was tired, then Monet would be too.
She left her pack—something Cole would’ve lectured her about—and took the two collapsible water bladders from her pack. Buddy followed without invitation, almost as though he understood what Cole had said about looking after her.
Padding along with easy, economic movements, the coyote checked out the ground ahead of her until she called to him because he was going the wrong way. She waited, crouching beside the bubbling water, listening to the woods before she showed herself. It was another thing Cole had taught her to do; she was no novice when it came to the countryside, but she hadn’t lived her life on the run like he had.
Carrying the heavy water up the animal track worn into the earth, she saw Buddy freeze and sink to the ground. A sudden wave of panic hit her, cursing that she hadn’t brought the gun, and she lowered the bladders in order to reach behind her where a knife was sheathed. She had just long enough to ask herself what the hell she would do to a Tracker with a knife when Buddy leapt forwards and chased something through the brush. Relaxing, she stood and sheathed the knife to pick up the water.
She’d always been comfortable outdoors because it was how she had been raised. She was born into the outdoors like the true Freeborn she was, but something about her experience and the journey leading to Cripple Creek had made her… more.
She’d evolved since meeting Cole; added new skills to her existing ones and grown in confidence.
“What are you so happy about?” Monet asked her suspiciously.
“What?” Lina answered, not realizing she’d ben smiling to herself thinking about Cole. “Oh, nothing.”
“Yeah, right. Your dog’s broken, by the way,” she answered. “It’s running around in circles.”
“There are rabbits or something out there,” Lina said, glad for the change of subject. She put the water down, then snatched up her pack and weapon before going outside once more. She could hear Buddy crashing around, issuing the occasional excited yelp as he came close to catching something, and she set about recreating the masterpiece Cole had demonstrated for her so many times.
Bending a sapling, after spending a few minutes selecting the perfect one, she used her knife to cut the notches in another piece of wood before she pulled the loop of fine wire from her pack and set about tying it in place. When she was satisfied that the trigger mechanism would hold, she leaned over carefully and checked to see if she’d disturbed the area too much. She hadn’t heard him approach, but the coyote was sitting on the trail behind her watching. It must have recognized the snare trap and knew what that meant: lunch without the effort of hunting.
Lina shooed him away, not wanting the scent of a predator all over her trap to scare off any potential food. Leaving just the one trap because they carried enough food to reach their destination without needing to hunt or forage, she returned to the cottage and was sure to bring the coyote in with her. She found Monet bent over a table, leaning close to a map and running her finger along a route.
“Lina, we have adequate food to last us a few days. Surely enough until we’re in the sanctuary of the first tribe’s village,” Monet told her.
She stared blankly at the woman, trying to discern her meaning.
“The trap. You don’t have to keep setting traps. We won’t be sticking around long enough to bother,” the woman said.
Lina nodded but didn’t share the thought that she wanted to practice the skills Cole had shown her. She could survive on her own, with nothing but a few tools and her wits, like the man she’d traveled with had done for most of his life. Monet was tough, she was strong, and Lina doubted she’d ever needed to worry about impressing a man. After five minutes with the woman, it was clear she was a superior character.
“Where are we going?” Lina asked, peering over the woman’s shoulder. Monet said nothing but tapped a fingernail on a spot that meant little to Lina.
“And where are we now?”
The spot was less specific than their destination and was indicated by a circular motion of the same finger over an area.
“Another couple days, I think,” she told Lina.
“How can you be sure where the group is? Wouldn’t it be easier to mark them?”
“And give away the position of every human left in the country? What if we’re captured; you ever think about that?”
Lina didn’t say anything. She’d thought about being captured many times, but she’d never contemplated what she might end up telling their enemy about the others. Everything, she imagined. At least eventually. Her face must have told Monet this.
“Exactly, so all the locations? All the facts?” She tapped a finger against her temple. “Much harder for them to pull it out of here than it is off a map anyone’s dumb enough to write on.”
“You think…” she began, trailing off as she realized she wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to say. “You think the others, the Freeborn, will join us? Truly?”
“I think you’ll have to be convincing, as will I. That’s what I think.”
“It’s just that these people, or at least my people, would never consider going to the outside world unless they were forced to. They thought that if we weren’t being attacked, then there was no reason to do anything but carry on as things were. It has been that way for years.”
“Listen,” Monet said, sitting wearily and taking a sip from a water bottle. “They all have their heads in the sand; otherwise, they’d be with us already, right? I bet you there are plenty of people who’d prefer to fight instead of hiding, only they’ve never seen there was a side to join. We have to show them.” Lina nodded, but was saved from having to reply by the coyote jumping up to a sound outside. It was the noise of leaves being scattered, followed by a sharp squeal and then nothing.
“Stay here,” she told the animal as she stood and took her knife and weapon to the door.
In the last of the daylight, they ate the fresh, hot meat, which they’d seared over a fire lit in the dusty hearth. The three of them sat by the remnants of the fire as the sun was setting, and Lina watched the coyote licking its chops obsessively like it could re-live the taste of the tender meat through memory.
“Still think we shouldn’t worry about fresh meat?” Lina asked Monet as juices dripped down her chin.
Monet had the decency to laugh, easing Lina’s mind. She was always so worried what others thought of her, and she dared to hope she might have another person to call a friend.
She felt good. Not as good as she had felt at Cripple Creek with the shots and the other stuff they’d given her, but she fe
lt satisfied.
“Color me officially impressed,” Monet said, tossing the last scraps of her portion to Buddy to finish off. “Your parents teach you that?”
“Cole did, actually,” she said a little shyly.
“I see,” Monet answered, wearing a smile of her own that dared Lina to try and prove her thoughts wrong. “Come on,” she said as she hauled herself to her feet. “Time to move.”
The pace she set was harder even than the first few days with Cole, who was used to travelling on the road at night. Her belly full and fighting the need to sleep off the food, she set herself to the task and kept up.
Chapter 11
Dex
“Wake up, Dex.” Tom’s voice broke through Dex’s sleep.
“What is it?” He sat up, the seatbelt cutting into his chest, sending a jolt of pain through his body. His gunshot wound was healing well, but he still needed to be extra cautious with it.
“We’ve arrived,” Tom told him.
Dex glanced to the back seat where Alec was dozing silently. That kid was able to sleep anywhere, any time. It was a talent Dex could appreciate.
“Any problems?” Dex tried to find his bearings. He grabbed the tablet, noticing a couple of red icons near the edges of Omaha and two green ones, marking the Trackers moving along the major highway toward Denver.
“Nope. Smooth sailing.” Tom’s voice was strained, and Dex saw how tired the man was. His face was a little gaunt today, and the older man scratched at his white beard while leaning forward, trying to focus on the road. “Hard as hell to see in the dark. My eyes don’t like it.”
“Maybe you need glasses,” Dex told him.
“Can you recommend any good optometrists in the area?” Tom joked.
“Are we there?” Alec asked from behind Dex.
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