by P. J. Sky
“Come on,” shouted Keshia from the truck.
Ari ran. The truck was already moving forwards as Ari clambered into the seat next to Keshia. Once onboard, the truck hurtled forwards, engine screaming.
“Where?” asked Ari.
“Someone in the street,” said Keshia. “I think it was a soldier.”
Keshia swerved around a burnt-out tank. Ari looked behind, over her seat, and saw two more trucks tumble out of a side street and swerve in their direction, headlights blazing. They were taking pursuit.
∆∆∆
On the cracked tarmac, the truck’s tyres hummed and the sound reminded Ari of the distant memory of rain. Over her shoulder, as the lights of the town faded, she watched over the tailgate as the headlights of the two pursuing vehicles grew.
“Can we go any faster?”
Keshia sat up at the edge of the driver’s seat and peered over the wheel into the darkness ahead, her knuckles white. “I don’t know. I’m giving it all she’s got.”
Ari clambered over her seat into the back of the truck into what seemed to be a sort of flat floored space for cargo. It was empty but for a steel trunk. She unfastened the clasps and lifted the lid. From inside, she lifted out a short, red cylinder with a white wick.
Dynamite.
Ari’s heart leapt. She rummaged inside the box and found several more sticks.
The vehicle bounced.
“Hey,” called Ari, “try to keep it steady.”
“I’m doing my best, what do you know?”
Ari thought, what do I know? Nothing about driving this truck, that’s for sure.
“Well, try harder.” She had to give her some sort of encouragement.
Beyond the tailgate, Ari peered into the inky darkness where the headlights continued to grow.
“I think they’re gainin’ on us.”
“Yeah, I think this truck’s a bit broken.”
“A bit broken?”
“Well, she won’t go any faster and she sounds like an old man coughing.”
Ari listened to the engine but she had no idea what she was hearing. It rumbled and spluttered and wheezed and sounded like any other piece of suspicious machinery from the city. Glancing over the bonnet, only one of their own headlights appeared to be working, illuminating a solid chunk of tarmac that faded quickly into the darkness. Far off on the horizon, the last orange stain of day dissolved into the night. Ari’s eyes were drawn to the full moon, rising from the East, like a golden disc. She caught a glimpse of the Maker star and squeezed the stick of dynamite in her palm.
Maker, if you got a plan, now might be a good time, otherwise, you just stay out of our way.
Over the splutter of the engine and the hum of the tyres, Ari could now hear the smooth roar of the engines of the two pursuing vehicles. She slipped her fire starter and flint from her pocket. She lay the stick of dynamite on the bay floor and levelled the flint.
The truck bounced and the dynamite rolled into the shadow of the tailgate.
“Dag it.”
Ari retrieved the dynamite, levelled the flint with her left hand, took the fire starter and struck. Two strikes and the wick began to sparkle. She lifted the dynamite and looked over the tailgate into the pursuing headlights, ready to throw it in the path of their pursuers.
Thud.
Ari fell backwards and dropped the dynamite. She watched the sparkling wick dance across the flat floor like a loose firework. She scrambled after it, knocked it with her fingers, and the dynamite rolled forwards towards Keshia. She watched it slip between the seats and fall down into the footwell around Keshia’s feet.
Ari pounced after the dynamite. She dived across Keshia’s lap and pushed herself down under the steering wheel between Keshia’s legs.
“Hey,” cried Keshia. “What are you doing.”
In the footwell, Keshia’s foot kicked against the fizzling dynamite and Ari saw it roll under one of the foot pedals.
“Dag it. Move ya feet.”
“I seriously can’t drive like this.”
“An’ you’ll seriously be dead if ya don’t move ya feet.”
The truck swerved across the road, crisscrossing the faded white lines that ran down its centre.
Keshia sighed and lifted her feet from the pedals. The engine unwound like a coiled spring and the truck began to judder and slow. From its exhaust, there was a loud bang.
Ari jumped. “Are they shootin’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dag it, I can’t reach it.”
Keshia reached down, her hand trailing on the steering wheel.
The vehicle meandered towards the edge of the road and the tyres ground on the dusty verge.
Keshia thrust the stick into Ari’s fingers.
Ari dragged herself out from between Keshia’s legs, arched her arm back, and flung the stick from the truck.
Boooooom.
Briefly, the orange plume was like a second sun.
“What was that?” said Keshia.
“Dynamite.”
“Well, nice going.” Keshia peered back over the steering wheel. The truck began to accelerate again.
Then, out from the plume burst the two pursuing vehicles, headlights blazing like evil eyes, their engines screaming like two mechanical hellhounds.
∆∆∆
Bullets popped against the back of the tailgate. Ari clambered back over her seat and plunged her hand into the metal trunk. Her heart throbbing, she drew out a second stick of dynamite. She wedged it between the metal floor and the tailgate. A bullet whistled past her ear. She slipped the fire starter from her pocket and levelled the flint.
One strike, two strikes.
The wick began to sizzle. Ari lifted the stick above the tailgate. The wind caught the wick and it fizzled out.
“For Maka’s sake.”
Another bullet whispered past her ear. Ari was getting jumpier and jumpier. She ducked behind the tailgate, wedged the dynamite against the metal surface, and re-lit the wick. She listened for the pursuing vehicles.
Just a little closer she thought, as she watched the deadly sparkle inch towards the red dynamite. She held her breath and popped her head over the tailgate. Behind them, the first truck snarled, it’s blinding headlights like two burning eyes, engine wailing like a banshee. Ari slid the dynamite over the back of the tailgate.
The stick bounced into the darkness, sparkled like a tiny yellow supernova, and disappeared beneath the headlights of the first truck.
The truck exploded, bonnet flying into the air. Hot oil fell like acid rain. The vehicle peeled away, a ball of rolling fire. Ari’s eyes followed the burning bonnet, like a wayward comet, as it descended from the near heavens leaving a trail of yellow flames.
Through the trail of flames appeared the second truck. More gunshots cracked against the tailgate.
Ari crawled back towards her seat and lifted the rifle. Rising to her knees, she levelled the barrel with the second truck, flinched, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
The force slung her backwards and the base of her spine thumped against the metal frame around her seat. A sharp pain shot up her back. She dropped the rifle and rolled onto her side.
“Dag it.”
“Nice shooting,” said Keshia.
“Will you just drive.”
Ari lay on her back and felt the vibrations of the road through the metal floor. Her ears rang with the screams of the engines. The second truck’s lights disappeared behind the tailgate and Ari found herself staring upwards into the crystal star chart in the great hollow of the night sky. Then she watched in horror as the silhouette of a soldier, the muscles of his bare arms glinting in the white lights, leapt over the tailgate and into the bay.
Ari reached for the rifle. The soldier kicked it from her. He raised the barrel of a gun towards her. Ari swung her leg round like a kangaroo might swing its tail and knocked the gun from the soldier’s hands. The gun clattered over the back of the tailgate.
; The soldier pounced, yellow teeth glinting, his hands gripped around her neck. His thumbs squeezed around her windpipe, pressing against her larynx. Ari could feel the two sides of her throat contracting like a hose being closed.
“Ahhgggg.”
Ari began to choke.
Keshia’s arm appeared, pistol glinting in the headlights. She struck the barrel against the soldier’s temple.
The soldier’s grip loosened, crimson dripping down the side of his face.
The truck jolted.
Ari gasped and kicked the soldier sideways. He fell to the floor and Ari rolled onto his front, legs straddling his torso. Ari forced her right hand onto his face, pressing his head to the metal floor. With her left hand, she reached down and slid the blade from its sheath at her ankle. She pushed the blade to his neck.
“I don't wanna do this…”
New arms pulled her backwards, away from the soldier. Hands around her shoulders; hands tugging at her elbows, dragging her down. She could smell the sweaty stench of the second soldier, unseen, behind her, fingers tearing at her skin.
The first soldier scrambled to his feet.
“Kid…” cried Ari.
Keshia slammed on the breaks.
The second truck slammed into the tailgate.
Ari fell forwards, out of the soldier’s grip. She tumbled over the seats and controls and found herself lying on the vehicle’s bonnet, the hot metal stinging her palms, the engine screaming beneath her, steam curling from vents around the edges of the bonnet, and Keshia’s wide eyes staring at her with surprise from behind the steering wheel.
Ari grinned, then realised her blade was gone.
The vehicle surged forwards.
A distance had opened between their truck and the one in pursuit. In the halo of the headlights, the silhouettes of two soldiers advanced from the tailgate.
Ari looked at Keshia. “Ya gun.”
Keshia leant forwards. In her hand, the silver chrome of the pistol glinted in the headlight, a new red smear along the barrel.
Ari clutched the gun, aimed it at the silhouettes, and squeezed the trigger.
Crack.
Pain leapt up her shoulder. She fired again.
Crack. Crack.
Bursts of yellow light illuminated their frantic, desperate faces. As their faces melted back into the darkness, Ari dragged herself to her feet and leapt over the controls, shoulders forward and head down like a charging dingo, and rammed into the chests of the two soldiers.
Both soldiers tumbled backwards over the tailgate and into the darkness.
Ari collapsed into the space behind the tailgate. Her eyes fell on the Maker Star, glowing faintly blue.
Maker, she thought, I didn’t wanna do that.
Arms burning, pistol still in hand, Ari dragged herself back into the seat next to Keshia.
The second truck was coming alongside them, its engine roaring.
“Ari…” said Keshia.
“I know.”
A dark figure hunched over the wheel of the other truck. Ari levelled the pistol and squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Click, click.
Nothing. The hammer slid back easily, and nothing.
“Dag it.”
Ari threw down the gun. She climbed back over her seat and felt with her fingers for the rifle. It wasn’t there. In the darkness, she pressed her fingers into the shadows at the edges of the panels and something stung. She pulled out the blade and slipped it back into its sheath. She wiped the blood on her sleeve.
But it occurred to Ari they weren’t firing either. Perhaps they, too, were out of bullets?
On the side of the road, a yellow diamond-shaped signpost flashed by.
“Wha’ did it say?”
“One lane bridge,” replied Keshia.
Ari looked to the other truck, then back to the road. “Well, make sure they don’t get past us.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Just do it.”
The other truck veered across the road and plunged into them. Metal ground against metal, shattering the air.
“He’s trying to get us off the road,” cried Keshia.
“Well, push ‘im back.”
The two vehicles ground together. Their tyres rumbled against the edge of the tarmac, kicking up dust.
“I can’t turn the wheel.”
“Dag it.”
Ari climbed over the seats and grabbed hold of the wheel. Straining, she tried to turn it into the other truck.
“Ari…”
“Make it go faster.”
In their solitary beam of the headlight, the cracked tarmac sped past beneath them, thick and fast.
The other truck swerved out and back. It smashed into them hard. The sound of scraping metal made Ari’s spine tingle.
Their truck swerved onto the verge. Dust and gravel spewed up over the bonnet.
With all Ari’s strength, she dragged the steering wheel round.
The truck bounced back onto the tarmac and smashed into the other truck. The steering wheel jarred Ari’s fingers. She fell back into her seat and clenched her sore fingers. “We ave’ to beat ‘em to the bridge, we ‘ave to.”
They passed a second diamond sign, but this time the sign appeared to be painted over and in its place, in black paint, was the crude image of a black skull.
Metal railings appeared. Words sprayed across cracked tarmac. In their single headlight, the tarmac looked like it had been torn apart, like burnt bread…
“The bridge,” said Keshia. “There’s no bridge.”
The trucks wheels fell silent. For a moment, the vehicle flew, then it fell.
The wind whistled past Ari’s ears. “Hold on…” She slipped her fingers around the edges of her seat.
The bonnet dipped downwards. Steam exploded through the vents.
The truck hit the dry riverbed front first.
Chapter 16
Titus Corinth felt impotent. His body had failed him.
For a fourth time, he’d listened to Janus’s report. After it’d finished, he’d shifted his limp fingers from the screen and glanced out of the large windows, through the crystal chasms of steel and glass and coloured lights, all the way to the wall with its glowing parapets and the inky blackness beyond, where Starla was once more lost.
No, not lost, he thought. I know exactly where she is.
She was being held at the site of a mine, and one that had, until recently, been a functional part of the city’s economy, and under threat that if the city made any attempt to rescue her she’d be immediately executed.
The mayor closed his eyes and shuddered. The thought of Starla’s death terrified him.
When, he wondered, did I ever get so weak? But I cannot deny it, my heart could not stand her death. If fate must, leave her in the wasteland, but keep her safe at least.
The mayor opened his eyes. In the darkness, orange lamps; those tell-tale signs of life; shifted beyond the wall.
How did we ever get the whole population of the city to look inwards and never outwards? Did we really keep them so distracted? And meanwhile, the masses beyond the wall raised their axes and bided their time, eking out an existence on bread and water, and perhaps hope.
The mine where Starla was being held had, until recently, provided coking coal, at a very reasonable price, and the city had paid for it. And the mine’s usefulness had provided those that ran it certain protections. That was until the trains that brought the coal from the mine had stopped coming.
Titus Corinth didn’t really know the details of who had previously controlled the mine; they weren’t important, and in fact, it was often better not to know every detail of what went on in the internal affairs of communities beyond the wall. But, for whatever reason, the faction that controlled the mine had stopped sending the trains. A message had been sent, via the usual complicated network of channels, from one contact to another, all the way back to the city, but no reason had been given for the pau
se in coal production. And for their steel foundries, the city needed the coal.
The mayor’s left eye blurred and began to tear. A tingling sensation worked its way up his arm, igniting the numb muscles. He closed his eyes; white stars speckled the interior of his eyelids, and from these stars appeared the oval face of his daughter. That angular nose, so proud and beautiful, like an obelisk between those two round eyes of the deepest sapphire blue, as if she carried beneath her eyelids all the lost oceans of the world. She raised her chin.
“Father, you should have told me about my mother.”
His heart ached and a lump formed in his throat.
I should have, he thought, I know I should have.
He wanted to slam his palm against the bedclothes, but his numb muscles refused to respond.
They’ll come for me soon, he thought. They’ll break down the doors and they’ll press a pillow to my face or worse, and then it’ll be over.
Always, in the city, there was the struggle to maintain power. Competing groups circled like hungry lions, ready to pounce. He was lame and he was certain the lions now smelt blood.
Starla raised one immaculate eyebrow; a thin line above a shadow of cobalt.
And then, my dear, it will be over for you too, and I shall have truly failed. If they string me up, they’ll string you next to me.
With an effort, the mayor forced his mind back to the problem at hand.
Titus Corinth had taken the matter of the mine into consultation. As a rule, the city was neutral and didn’t involve itself in external matters. But in reality, the city looked after its interests on both sides of the wall. And, this was where the Black Mulga came in.
As a competing faction, the Black Mulga was eager to take over operations at the mine, and were more than willing to take on the messy, physical labour involved in a hostile takeover. This was the sort of work the city really couldn’t get involved in if it were to remain neutral. A new price for the coal was quickly negotiated, and a part of the city’s payments to the Black Mulga came in the form of a steady supply of arms. Besides, to the East things were getting restive, and a new, stronger force would be useful, as long as they remained allied with the city, and by extension the office of Corinth. The last thing the mayor wanted was another city faction; one of those circling lions; to visibly extend its power into the wasteland. The situation in the wasteland was as delicate as it was in the city. Autonomy and self-sufficiency were the cornerstones of city politics. The city could never be seen to have any involvement with the wasteland. Officially, in the city, within the spectrum of comprehension, the coal was manufactured here. The mines did not exist and the wasteland was left entirely to its own devices.