Thunder Road

by James Axler

  “Okay, then I need to get the hell out of here and be with him. If I’m there, I can influence or distract him, right?”

  “Certainly one or the other. There is the slight problem of my programming. Because of this, I am compelled to secure the door should you attempt to leave. There is, unfortunately, nothing I can do about this. Any personal wishes I may have are overridden by the mainframe.”

  “Sid, I need to get out of here,” she said earnestly.

  “I know.” He paused. “I have an idea. Please try to be patient for a few moments.”

  She could try, but as she sat on the edge of her seat, muscles tensed and bunched, she knew that she was on to a losing prospect.

  She could break the door if she called on Gaia power, but to what end? Brute force would only get her so far. Besides which, after the experience when the power became trapped in her, she was scared that calling on it so soon could cause lasting damage. She had never been scared of the gift before, but it would—she knew—take her a while to regain her confidence.

  No. This would have to be done with thought, not muscle.

  She hoped Sid would be successful. And soon.

  HOWARD SAT in front of the console, pondering his next move. It seemed to him that he was in a stalemate with Cawdor and his crew.

  It was a relief when Sid’s voice came to him.

  “Howard, if I might intrude for a moment?”

  “Glad of the distraction, Sid. This waiting is getting to me, old friend. What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you about Storm Girl.”

  Howard’s brow creased. He couldn’t remember using that name out loud. How did Sid know? Perhaps he had.

  “Does she know that I think of her as that?”

  “No, she does not, Howard. Perhaps it is time you told her. I can only make suggestions, but it seems to me that she is ready for the next stage of your plan. I have been monitoring what she has been viewing from the archives, and she is immersing herself in the history that you value so highly. I think she would be open to your suggestions. I would add that she has not, so far, attempted to leave her room. But if she does, and finds that I have had to secure as per your earlier directive, it may not create the impression that you wish her to have.”

  Howard pondered that for a moment. If his trusted friend was correct, he ran the risk of alienating Storm Girl before anything had been settled, and this was the last thing that he would wish. To have her by his side would steady his hand at this crucial time.

  “Very well, Sid. Countermand the order to secure her door. She may come and go as she pleases…in fact, tell her that I request the pleasure of her presence here.”

  “Very good, Howard. I think you have made a wise choice, if I may say.”

  “Thank you, Sid.”

  Yes, Howard thought, keeping his smile to himself, this may be the best choice he had made in his life.

  “KRYSTY.”

  “Yes, Sid?”

  “The door is no longer secured. You are free to move at will. Furthermore, Howard requests your presence in the command complex.”

  She shook her head. “How did you manage that?”

  “You must remember, I have been a servant to the family since the nuclear winter. I have seen them all be born, grow and die. They are from the same stock, they have the same habits and attitudes as one another, in varying degrees. Howard may be unstable and prone to insanity, but he is still one of them.”

  “Then why can’t you persuade him somehow to put you and Hammill—”

  “Out of our misery? Krysty, Howard may be unstable, but isn’t quite as—ah—fucking nuts as all that.”

  Krysty laughed, then got to her feet. “Lead the way, Sid.”

  “Very well. One thing—do not show surprise at anything he may say to you.”

  “Care to fill me in?” she asked as she left her room and followed the trail Sid laid for her by the simple expedient of dimming the lights except for those leading in the direction she should walk.

  “I think it better if your reactions are genuine. I just fear that shock or surprise may be more than he can bear right now.”

  “Great.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear—be genuine, but not shocked, which, seeing as Sid was warning her, was almost an inevitability.

  She walked down the corridor and up a staircase that took her to another level. Paintings of the family lined the walls, and she could see the physical resemblance to Howard and Jenny in all of them. As she drew near a room from which she could hear Hammill’s voice, interspersed with that of Howard, she paused to consider. With a gene pool that small, it was no wonder that whatever good Howard had intended had been perverted and corrupted by the insanity of inbreeding.

  She took a deep breath and entered the command complex, immediately struck dumb by the amount of comp equipment contained within the room. She doubted that she had ever seen so much in one place that was actually all in working order.

  Her eyes were drawn to the screens that showed the perimeter of the ranch land. Even though darkness had descended, the cameras had switched to infrared, and she could see Ryan and J.B. conversing at the side of the wag. Jak was still seated on the body of the vehicle, as immobile as she knew he had to have been for hours. Doc and Mildred were on the other side, near a small fire that they were using to cook. There was an almost unnatural air of calm about the scene, despite the circumstances.

  She felt a pang deep within her chest, a need to be with them, a need to get back to them.

  A need to stop this crazy bastard wiping them out, no matter what it might cost her.

  “Hi, Krysty,” Howard said, with a smile that still didn’t reach those dead eyes, but seemed from the tone of his voice to be genuine. He held out his hand to her, palm upward. It was half imprecation to take his hand, half a beckoning. She chose to return it with a smile, moving into the complex and using her hand to indicate the screens, hoping that he would take this as interest and not as a rebuff. Above all else, she wanted to avoid making his temper flare.

  “This is impressive. What does it do?”

  Her guess was correct. Like all small boys at heart, Howard was obsessed by his toys. Krysty and Mildred had often swapped the opinion that J.B.’s ordnance obsession was similarly fueled. The important factor in the postnuclear society being that such young boy obsessions were now the difference between living and buying the farm. No matter, not when she saw the way Howard’s face lit up with a kind of joy, both at the chance to show off his knowledge and at the same time share it.

  “This is the nerve center of Murania. From here I can control all of the complex—with the able assistance of Sid and Hammill, of course—and also keep an eye on what is happening in the outside world. The area around the old ranch is full of security devices, both defensive and offensive. We have missiles for air attack, which of course is unlikely as there are no planes that I know of these days, and also mines and gun emplacements that are remotely controlled for ground attack.”

  “And who are those people?” she asked, trying to keep the tremble of anger from her voice.

  Howard gave her an indulgent grin. “I think you know who they are. I’m sure you can’t have forgotten them already.”

  She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face by breaking his jaw in two. But she needed him to be conscious and able to act. She needed to use her guile to control him. So, instead, she gritted her teeth and said, “Let me see…” She pretended to study the screens intently, peering as though shortsighted. In truth, she was using her peripheral vision to take in the layout of the console that ran the length of the room, memorizing as much as she could where switches, faders, keypads and mouse remotes were positioned. True, she had no idea what most of them were for. Nonetheless, if she knew where these things were now, it would be easy to remember the positions of any Howard may use in her presence.

  Eventually she said, “It’s Ryan and my friends who you took me away from.” She turned
to him, putting on a look that she hoped to Gaia was ingenuous. “Why did you do that, Howard?”

  “You know why, Krysty. It would have been difficult to have come to you all and explain my mission without antagonizing you, or arousing suspicion. Throughout history as I have studied it, since my youth, it seems that the best way to convert a mass, to convince them of the rightness of your cause, is to take a few influential figures and persuade them, so that they can help to spread your word, your cause.”

  “You think I’m influential?” she asked him, giving him the best big-eyes look she could muster. In truth, she wanted to kick the coldheart bastard in the balls, but that could wait.

  He nodded. “I think you have the most influence on the group because you have the ear of Ryan Cawdor, and he is the leader.” She noticed that as he said this his right hand, which had been resting on the back of the track chair, dug into the leather of the seat padding, knuckles whitening under the pressure.

  “Perhaps I do,” she said, feigning that this had never occurred to her before, which wasn’t hard, as it hadn’t. She thought it was crap, but to keep him unaware, she wanted him to think that he had given her a great insight. She continued. “That had never really struck me, but I guess Ryan does listen to me. And it’s true that I certainly am impressed with what you’ve been doing here, and on the outside.”

  “I knew you’d understand,” he said, his face split by an idiot grin. He stepped forward, holding out his hands to her as though to embrace her, then pulling back unsteadily, as though unsure what to do. He had seen how men were supposed to react to women on the old videos, and he had all his instincts telling him what he should do, but he was unused to real human beings, and he was caught in something that was unusual for him: fear.

  Krysty could see all this, understood in a flash. And although it went against every instinct she herself had, she sacrificed her own sense of ease for the chance to aid the greater good.

  She stepped forward into his hesitant embrace, hugging him. Tentatively, he drew his head back. She closed her eyes, suppressed the gag reflex and kissed him.

  Gaia, she thought, the payoff for this had better be worth it….

  She pulled back from him, composing herself into a smile.

  “Sid has told me about what you’ve been doing,” Howard said excitedly. For a moment her gut lurched. Had Sid betrayed her? A momentary fear, passing as Howard continued. “He says you’ve been studying the old videos, learning about the old ways, and that you’ve been engrossed in them.”

  The relief flooded through her. She sounded almost gushing, and she didn’t have to fake it. “Yeah, oh yeah, I’ve been learning an awful lot from what I’ve seen, and it’s made me look at what you’re trying to do here in a whole different way.” All the while, she kept her peripheral vision on the screen. She could see that they looked safe, but also wary. They were being kept at bay by something.

  “That’s excellent. I knew that if you just had a chance to study the old ways, you’d see what I want to achieve. Now listen…”

  He began to babble. While he talked incessantly, words tumbling over themselves in a torrent that became, at times, almost incomprehensible, she fixed her attention on him but also scanned as much as was possible. Sid had been reluctant to tell her exactly what had happened, but from some of the damage visible on some of the screens, she could tell that either missiles or mines had been used, and that they had not been aimed at obliterating the vehicle. She knew that if that was the case, then they would have bought the farm long ago. The ordnance and tech here could blow the balls off an ant. No, he had wanted to keep them at bay until he had been granted a chance to recruit her fully to his cause.

  Which he was doing even as she worked this out, and to be as truthful as she could never be to his face, she couldn’t believe the crap he was coming out with. Storm Girl? The consort of Thunder Rider? Obviously he thought it was a great idea, and one that she would readily agree with. In truth, if she had been watching as many of the old vids as both she and Sid had claimed, then she could understand Howard’s reasoning. But Storm Girl? Because of her fiery nature? Was he going to expect her to wear a costume like his?

  It was so juvenile that she would have been inclined to dismiss it as the ravings of a crazie. He expected her to drop her friends because of something she had seen on an old vid? Because of something that he had told her? Because of the trail of pointless devastation that he had left in his wake?

  And yet, there was that devastation. And the means that had produced it. And the knowledge that he had the means to produce far, far worse if left to his own devices. Especially if he couldn’t get his own way and reacted like a spoiled child.

  No matter how ludicrous she felt, and no matter how absurd the idea of dressing up and becoming Storm Girl appeared, she knew that the only chance she had of engineering his demise and saving her friends—let alone any other poor bastard who might get in his way—was by going along with it.

  He was looking at her, expectant. He was waiting for her answer.

  “Thunder Rider, you and Storm Girl are gonna clear this land of the scum, and make it fit for decent folk once more.”

  He was so excited that he was almost crying. He grabbed hold of her, embracing her so tightly that it seemed as though he would crush her ribs.

  “You will not regret this, my Storm Girl,” he whispered in her ear.

  I sure as hell hope not, Krysty thought.

  RYAN HAD BEEN FIDDLING with the locket for some time. It was small and delicate in his large, scarred fingers to begin with, and he had no real notion of how it worked. Anxiety was making him clumsy, and he cursed to himself as he tried to find a way of opening and activating it.

  Doc came around to where Ryan and J.B. were hunched. He was carrying coffee-sub. He coughed softly. “Gentlemen,” he said quietly, “perchance I could ask you what you are attempting to do?”

  While Ryan still puzzled over the locket, J.B. explained briefly. Doc nodded sagely. He held out his hand.

  “My dear Ryan, if you please.” He gestured impatiently with his fingers. Ryan, his brow raised, handed over the locket. Doc examined it, turning briefly toward the firelight, then back again to shield his actions from any prying eyes, human or mechanical. “There are times, my dear boy,” he said softly, “when being an exile from the past has its advantages. More years ago now than I would care to remember, I bought such a locket for my darling Emily. It was, if I recall correctly, on a rare trip to Boston where I was to speak at the college. A jeweler in the best part of town, but of course. And a pretty penny it cost me, too, as the saying went in those days. Of course, this is of no interest to you—why should it be? And, for all that, it is of no matter as that locket and my dear Emily have been as dust for more years than anyone should have to endure. Nonetheless, to discourse about it has given me time to recall the knack to prising the damn thing open, so that…Voilà!”

  As he exclaimed, the locket popped open, revealing—instead of the cameo that would normally be seen inside such a thing—a small flashing light, which immediately began to pulse.

  “That’s it?” J.B. murmured. “That’s going to bring them?”

  “If it sends out a signal, then it does not matter what size it may be, dear John Barrymore,” Doc said.

  “Guess we just have to hope and wait until they come, or until those bastards out there—” Ryan gestured in the direction of the ranch “—make a move and mebbe give us an opening, there’s jackshit we can do except sit here and wait.”

  “Mebbe not,” Jak murmured. “Mebbe taunt into action. Mebbe force hand.”

  “How?” Ryan asked, although he was sure that he already knew the answer.

  “Let me,” Jak said, turning, his red eyes glowing in the dark with a fire that told of his burning frustration at being constrained.

  “With the mines? No, we keep it tight tactically, we don’t risk personnel.”

  “No risk—not mine exists beat Jak Lau
ren.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Jak, they detonated them by remote and could have blown up the wag,” Ryan said, exasperated.

  Jak gave him a sly grin. “Sure, but want alive. And out wag. Can see lines in sand where mines under earth. Hold all cards, right, Doc?”

  Doc shrugged, then looked at Ryan imploringly. “I can see the lad’s point. They want us alive, it seems. He has the skill to avoid obvious traps, and I doubt very much whether they would wish us to purchase that freehold in the skies. They have other plans for us—I dread to think what, but nonetheless, it could force their hand, as the lad says.”

  Ryan shook his head, then sighed. “Keep safe, Jak. The rest of you, try to keep as hidden as possible and get ready for incoming.”

  Jak said nothing by way of reply, just grinned, nodded and moved away from them.

  They dispersed as much as was possible in the small space allowed by the buildup of dune and the bulk of the wag. Doc climbed in, the better to handle the bulky LeMat out of view of any prying digital eye. Ryan and J.B. clustered, using their bodies to shelter their actions. Mildred was able to check her ZKR with ease, as the target pistol was smaller than the others’ blasters, making it easier to conceal. Jak, for his part, wandered away from the group. His Colt Python was not a priority for him. As far as he could see, it was simple. He had to be sharp and quick to avoid getting blasted by the mines, but he couldn’t fire back at it. If sec men came for them, then the others could fire. His priority was to not get blown up.

  They all had their roles, and they were soon ready.

  All they had to do was to take their cue when Jak sprang to action.

  JAK WANDERED AWAY from the body of the wag, away from where the others were clustered. He looked out across the desert night. The sky above them was clear, the few stars in this sector of the sky glittering distantly, the crescent moon reflecting a gray light over the sandy topsoil. It was flat as far as could be seen, broken only by the darker craters of the mine detonations. To the horizon was a seemingly flat expanse.