No, Kinsker assured himself. Ruck would have wanted the woman. If anything, he would have disobeyed me, and attacked them, thinking he would be a hero.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Ruck had screwed up, and the smooth woman had lost only a single flat-bike, while Ruck had cost the Hangers forty hawgs and their riders.
No, I cost us that. That is how the others will see it. We need a win. We need the bikes, the prize, the woman and the Floaters.
“What are we going to do, Kinsker?” The irritation in Faust’s voice was obvious. He was angry that he’d lost his chance to shine, and he blamed Kinsker for Ruck’s failure. As if Faust, in Ruck’s place, wouldn’t have made the same mistakes—or worse.
Kinsker ignored him. The more he thought of the boats he had seen the Floaters use, the more he realized how impossible it would be for them to get the flat bikes loaded and back to the city before he and the Hangers had arrived.
No, he thought. They didn’t take the bikes to the city. They moved them somewhere else.
“Kinsker?” Faust prompted.
“Shut it. I know where they took the bikes. Two miles north, along the shore, is a place where men used to store huge machines, before the cataclysms. Machines that could fly through the sky like birds.”
Faust’s expression said he had never heard of such a place. It was deep in Floater territory, and only Kinsker knew any of that area. Faust frowned and then said, “Like down in the ruins, we saw that big metal tube with the chairs in it.”
Kinsker remembered when they had scavenged in the ruins of Rome, two years previously. They had indeed checked out the city’s abandoned airport by the coast. They had found little of use, but the sight of giant metal bird carcasses had been thrilling.
“Exactly. Just like that. The Floaters have a place like that north of here. Two miles.” Kinsker pointed. “They took the flat bikes there. No way they could have gotten them on a boat that speedy-fast. So we ride for them now, while they’re least expecting an attack. Before they have a chance to get the things to the city on one of their larger boats.”
“And then?”
“Then you’re gonna stay there, so you can kill anyone who comes back from the Floating City. The rest of us are going to ride out on Floater boats and set the entire city on fire.”
Kinsker walked back to his hawg and kick-started it, the engine growling loud, as if in anticipation of his coming victory. The rattling generators out at the Floating City and the buzzing of their boats would drown out the noise of the hawg, so Kinsker had no worries about the sound travelling across the water.
“I don’t get to join in on the attack?” Faust shouted over the engine’s grumbling.
Kinsker throttled the bike, its engine drowning out Faust’s words, then he turned and sped off down the road. Fifty-eight other engines sprang to life, and the Hangers slowly turned their bikes and followed their leader. Faust was left standing in the road.
Ten minutes later, Kinsker saw he had guessed correctly, as six of the Floaters—skinny bastards with short blonde hair, and hardly any clothes, just short pants, and sleeveless shirts, with no shoes—wheeled the flat bikes inside a fenced off area. He could see one of the men trying to close the chain link gate when he had heard the rumble of the Hanger’s bikes approaching. Kinsker was two hundred feet from the gate when a second and then a third Floater rushed to the first man, helping him close the stuck gate. It was just a fifteen-foot-tall wall of wire with a few metal poles lending support. They swung the gate into place, and quickly fumbled with a lock to secure it.
Kinsker sped toward the gate. The floaters had just about gotten the lock fastened, when he rammed into the wire mesh at 50mph. The front bone spike on his hawg slammed into the metal chain so hard, the gate snapped back, flinging the bodies of the three Floaters in the air. The metal wall snapped open and swung and clanged against the inside wall of the fence.
Kinsker held his handlebars, and pulled the big bike out of a slight wobble, but he stayed up and raced into the confines of the fenced-in field. The ground had been covered with hard, flat concrete, and the Floaters had kept its surface free of plant life. It was some of the best riding Kinsker had ever experienced. The three Floaters ran for their lives.
But they wouldn’t make it far. Kinsker leered as he revved the hawg’s engine and chased after the skinny men, running them down one at a time. He thought he’d add their faces to his vest.
49
“Say hello, Agnes, darling,” the old man said.
The girl, pleasant but meek, softly replied. “Hello.”
The old man closed the door, leaving Val to stare dumbfounded at him outside the small room, where the girl with the green eyes happily had gone back to her book as the door had begun to swing closed.
“What in the name of Odin’s sweaty crack are you and Halvard playing at?” Val shouted, anger erupting from her like liquid boiling through a waterfall created by narrow rock.
The old man patted the air, attempting to calm her. “Come and sit, Val. My name is Troben. Halvard will have told you a bit about me.”
“Yes,” Val spat. “But he never mentioned that your ‘genetic material’ was a twelve-year-old girl.”
Troben eased himself into a kitchen stool and urged Val to take the one facing it. The men stood against the wall, by the hallway door. “She is sixteen,” he said, smiling kindly. “Agnes is a genetic abnormality.”
“What does that mean?” Val asked, finally taking a seat opposite the man.
“It means we men of science have no idea how she could be possible. Her parents are as blonde as you are. And their eyes as blue as I assume yours are under those red lenses.”
Not quite, Val thought, but she made no mention of it.
“I’ve tested Agnes’s blood in the lab. She has different genes from you and me. Exactly what might be needed to jump start the human species.”
Val’s hackles rose on the back of her neck. “If you think I’ll let you and Halvard mate with her...”
Troben laughed. “Not even something we considered, I assure you. I am a very old man, and Halvard tells me much of how he loves his wife in Norway. Besides, one man impregnating Agnes would not be enough to save the human species—even if a baby resulted from the union. It is what her blood holds, you see. And before you consider the notion, we do not want to kill her either. But small vials of her blood, taken with a needle, will be enough for genetic scientists with the proper equipment to analyze. They can see what makes it different, and create something new, which we could then inject into every woman, allowing them to conceive again. It might mean some babies will be born with green eyes like Agnes, or the differences might even yield other changes, like hair color or their resistance to illness.”
“Whose idea was it to not tell me we were riding across the world to collect a living human being?” Val asked.
“It was Halvard’s. But ask yourself. If he had told you what the journey would entail, would you still have undertaken it? I am shocked you made it here at all.”
They spoke for another thirty minutes, Val’s anger cooling. She related the trials faced as the group had crossed the European continent. Troben told her a bit about the Hangers and the Gasmen—a group on the far side of Italy who manufactured the fuel the Floating City required. He also told them a little history of the Floating City, which he referred to by its ancient name of Venice. He told them about the roving motorcyclists and how they controlled the mountains. He was surprised the Vikings had made it past them.
“You must understand, getting Agnes back to the North—to Norway, where Halvard has the means to utilize the precious cargo of her genes—is your most important mission. You must protect Agnes at all costs. I am ninety-four years old, and in all that time, I have never come across someone like her. What she carries in her blood can fix the human race. It is our only way forward.”
“What about her parents?” Val asked. “Will they not miss h
er?”
The old man’s kindly look melted into sadness. “I am afraid they are both dead now. Venice has long been under siege. Various factions see what we have here in this walled community, and they want it for themselves. They have all tried. The Hangers, the Gasmen even—although they will still trade with us—and every group of men that arrive overland in this part of the world. But the true threat are the pirates out at sea. Their attacks come monthly. And with no new generations of Venetians, sooner or later the city will fall. Until now, our only hope was that these invaders would die out before us. Halvard was too fragile to make the journey here, but you can take Agnes there.”
“And you have explained all of this to the girl?” Ulrik asked from across the kitchen.
“She is eager to help and to see what is left of the world.”
Just then the man with the crossbow burst into the room, his weapon up and at the ready. Hands all around the room went to weapons as the man shouted to Troben. “The city is under attack. We need to get them and Agnes to safety.”
The old man stood, surprisingly fast. “Calm yourself, Kristian. The wall will see us through, as it always has.”
Kristian shook his head back and forth on his thick neck. “You don’t understand. They came in disguise, on board our own boats. The gate is lodged open on one of the wrecked boats. They are already inside the city walls.”
Just then they heard a frantic peal of a bell, clanging in an unending clamor. Outside the building, people rushed to battle stations and speedboats ripped down the canals at reckless speeds.
Troben’s face changed as the gravity of the situation overcame his calm. “They must not get their hands on Agnes. Quickly, Kristian, get them to the boats and out of the city.” Then he turned to Val and laid a hand on the armored pad of her jacket’s shoulder. “Val, you must get her safely to the North.”
“We will,” she said, then she opened the door to the girl’s bedroom. To her surprise, Agnes was already up and rushing about the room. She had pulled on some durable leather boots, and thrown a thick shawl around her shoulders. She was picking up a bag from the floor when Val entered. “Agnes, get everything you need.”
The teen girl turned to face her with her bag clutched firmly in her arms. Val could see a thin rolled blanket strapped to the top of the bag. The girl had already been prepared, and her bag packed long ago. “I am ready.” The girl’s face showed only determination, and not the slightest hint of fear. Val liked her already.
Val reached out and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Come with me. Keep up. Do not talk. There will be time for your questions later. Do you understand?”
Agnes nodded, her long blonde hair bouncing behind her in a ponytail.
Kristian led the group down a back staircase to a new canal. Troben remained behind in the small kitchen. Val spared a thought for him, wondering how he would get to safety.
They boarded two long sleek and black speedboats, each with thin red stripes running down the sides. When they were aboard, Kristian piloted Val’s boat rapidly down the narrow side canal. Then they swung a sharp right into a much wider canal that looked like a major river running through the city’s center. All around her, buildings burned, orange flames crawling higher as smoke billowed into the sky.
The entire city was on fire.
Then she realized the old man would not get out at all. He had no plans to even attempt it. He was dead, as was every other resident of Venice.
50
The twin speedboats shot out of the wide canal and raced toward the already-open rear gate. The flames of the burning city rolled toward the wall, and the men who had raised the gate were already boarding their own escape vessels. The green water was littered with floating, flaming refuse, and several unmanned boats cluttered the way ahead, their bows crushed from collision or their decks aflame.
Kristian piloted the sleek black boat like he knew what would be coming, swerving the boat with practiced ease. With him in the first boat were Val and Agnes, Ulrik and Heinrich. The others were close behind in the second boat. As the second boat cleared the mouth of the canal behind them, Val saw two white, stubby speedboats giving pursuit. And she recognized the man behind the wheel of the first white boat. He had been in the first group of Hangers they had encountered.
“We are being chased,” she told Kristian.
As soon as the speedboat cleared the gateway out of the city, Kristian threw the boat’s throttle lever forward, and the boat jolted ahead like lighting, throwing Val backward into her cushioned seat.
The boat hugged the outer wall of the city, which made a sweeping right angle turn. The second boat was close behind them, and Val could see that Morten and Oskar had drawn their weapons, ready to battle, should the pursuing white boats catch up.
To their right were two smaller islands that looked as if they had been stripped of anything useful long ago. Jagged chunks of concrete and stone were all that remained, clustered on the surface in tall seaweeds.
Behind them, a wider channel ran between the abandoned outer islands and the rusted-steel walls of the burning city. Six more white boats rushed out of the channel.
At first, Val thought they were more Venetians fleeing their former city-turned-inferno. But the long scraggly beards and laced-up mouths of the men aboard the boats made them easy to identify. The Hangers had taken the boats before torching the city.
Val worried briefly that the Hangers would be armed with guns, like the man on the Tunnel Road. Her arm still stung from the grazing she had received. But the men in the boats had nothing in their hands. Still, there were enough boats and enough men that they could easily overpower their party.
Kristian hugged the wall with the boat, rounding the southeastern tip of the island. The buildings inside were a roaring inferno now, and the steel wall bulged from the intense heat. Val saw sea life—stars, barnacles and the like—bubbling and popping off the base of the massive steel plates, where it met the water. The heat baked off the wall in convection waves, making the distant outlying islands hazy in her sight.
To her side, Agnes clung to a thick plastic handle, her face a mask of terror, her eyes wide and unblinking, as her entire life was turned to ashes.
Behind her, Ulrik laid his large ax on the floor of the boat and took out a small hand-ax. He eyed the flanking fleet of Hanger speedboats. The boats were gaining, and the bearded men inside them were holding large rocks in their hands now.
Then Kristian cranked the wheel sharply, bringing the boat in a ninety degree turn around a corner formed by the heating steel wall. Beyond it was a narrow channel between the wall on the left and yet another low lying, nearby outer island. Agnes leaned over the sidewall of the boat and vomited a soup of chunky yellow into the water, as Heinrich staggered to keep his footing in the stern of the craft.
The second black boat did not take the turn, instead shooting straight, no doubt intending to go around the back of the outlying island. The lead Hanger boat followed Kristian, and the second white boat from the main canal followed Morten’s crew. The rest of the Hangers pursued Val. One less boat to deal with, she thought.
The channel was too narrow for the pursuing white boats to pass them, but their leader edged his craft right up to their stern. As soon as the long black boat was past the tip of the outlying island, Kristian cranked the wheel again, jagging the boat to the right, and cutting off the pursuing white boat. At the last second, the Hanger swerved left, smashing into the heated wall around the city, where it skipped along the edge, scraping the fiberglass hull with an ear-splitting shriek, before he steered the boat back toward his prey.
The second Hanger boat had time to see Kristian make the sharp turn, and quickly took the lead, coming up behind them.
Kristian darted left, moving the sleek boat wider and out into open water, and throwing the throttle to its stop, hydroplaning the boat as it leapt like a tiger into the wide open bay. Off in the distance, Val saw the second black boat, with Morten, Oskar, Nils and
Anders aboard, come shooting out from between two tall clumps of pale green and yellow sea grasses. The white Hanger boat was still chasing them down.
Wind blasted Val’s face, whipping her long blonde hair back. Spray from the water spattered against her red lenses, but she could still see just fine.
Then three things happened at once.
Across the bay behind them, Morton’s boat was boarded by four Hangers. Oskar, Nils and Anders were bowled over by the men crashing into them, and five bodies tangled to the deck of the black boat. Morten and his opponent collided, too, but he was larger, and ready for the impact, delivering an elbow to the man’s throat and knocking him off the boat in one swift move.
While that was happening, two Hanger boats pulled along each side of Val’s boat. On the left, the leader of the Hangers had passed off the wheel to another man. He pitched his arm backward and hurled a head-sized rock at Val’s boat. On the right, the second white Hanger boat was inching closer, nearly in range for a boarding party.
Ulrik lunged up on the back of Val’s seat and flung himself from the black boat, his body flying through the air, his small hand-ax leading as he careened straight into a group of four Hangers. The pilot tried to steer away, but his timing was a second too late. The boat peeled away as Ulrik began flailing with his ax, fists, elbows and forearms, smashing targets all around him in a tornado of frenzied activity.
Val’s line of sight turned back to her own vessel just in time to see a another rock—this one massive—slam into Kristian’s head, shatter his skull and wedge itself inside the man’s head, like a small rock dropped in the top of an egg. A sludge of blood and brain swept up and over the back of his head, where it was scoured away by the blasting wind.
As Kristian’s body slumped in the pilot’s chair, Val dove for the steering wheel. She quickly realized she had no idea how to drive the boat, and she had no idea where Kristian had been taking her.
Viking Tomorrow (The Berserker Saga Book 1) Page 21