Boneyards & Badlands: The Complete FTW Series

by Morgan Hobbes

  I’m struck speechless for a moment at this. Jameson looks at me, waiting for me to respond.

  “Is... is it really the only way?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  Jameson smiles at me in a way I’ve seen him smile at others, like he’s humoring a fool under sufferance. I need to dig myself out of this hole quickly before he becomes suspicious of me. Part of me says I’m being paranoid. Another tells me to remember who the hell I’m talking to.

  “Echo, I thought after what had happened this would be a no-brainer for you. They attacked you and left you for dead. If we hadn’t got there in time,” he stops as if he can’t go on. “Who knows what they would have done to you.”

  “I guess, just I’ve no memory of any of that. Ugh!” I say feigning exasperation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t question you. I know I don’t have all the facts like you do, sir. I wish I had my memories of before,” I say and exhale a loud sigh, while hoping I’m not laying it on too thick. “If you say this is the only way...”

  “It is, trust me. It’s not like we haven’t tried. Nothing works. This is the most humane solution to the problem. Hell, we’re doing them a favor by setting them free from their miserable lives.”

  I nod, acknowledging my acceptance. At least if I’m part of the project I’ll have a chance of sabotaging it.

  “What do you need me to do?” I ask.

  Jameson looks into my eyes as if trying to read my soul.

  “There’s a list of servers on your station that’ll get you started,” he says breaking eye contact and looking towards my screen. “Our techs have retrieved only the smallest portions of code so far. See if you can dig a little deeper. After the ingenuity you displayed the other day, I’ve got faith this is something you can do.”

  “Sure thing, sir.”

  “Great. I’ve got somewhere else to be this morning, but I’ll be back later on to check on your progress.”

  With that he turns and stalks from the room, tapping at the comms on his wrist. I get to work pulling up what information has been retrieved so far. After a brief look I find it’s hardly anything at all.

  Without me asking it to, my mind starts inventing data retrieval software that’d be more powerful that what’s been used so far. It’s weird having access to so much more information yet at the same time remembering who I once was.

  Mentally I tell myself to add flaws into the software design to make it less efficient. If I don’t get any results, that’ll just make Jameson suspicious of me, but if I can prove I’m getting results...

  I just have to make sure not to retrieve critical pieces of information. So many thousands of lives out there depend on me without even knowing it.

  The day passes by in a blur. I spend most of it designing a very elaborate piece of software that’ll drip feed me enough results to look like it’s working but not do anything very well.

  The level of data corruption reported by the techs who have tried before me will help sell this. There isn’t much left at all, but in my mind I know if I wanted to I could get almost all of it back.

  It’s late in the evening before Jameson returns and asks about my progress.

  “See for yourself,” I say, pulling up a long list of file fragments for him to see. I’ve been careful to screen what I’ve found. Everything so far is mostly boring transcriptions of discussion, which without context are meaningless.

  Jameson slides a finger along the screen and the list of file names scrolls by.

  “It’s going better than I expected,” I say, jumping in to look pleased with the result.

  “Very good,” Jameson says. He doesn’t open any of the files to look at the contents, he seems happy enough with the fact I’ve retrieved more than anyone else has achieved to date. “Let it run overnight and we’ll see what else we have in the morning.”

  Another file appears on the list as we watch. Damn, it’s a big one too. I can’t very well screen it out while Jameson is standing next to me.

  “Interesting,” he says and presses a finger onto the screen. The file pops open and it turns out to be a video recording. There’s no audio but I know what I’m looking at. It’s the footage of the X-71 gas being tested on people in a boneyard.

  Static rips through the footage for a few seconds then stabilizes on an air-scrubber pumping out a thin cloud of smoke. The smoke settles and shrouds the boneyard like a fog.

  More static and a howl of white noise before it changes to a close-up of people in the boneyard. Many are lying on the ground; some are walking around coughing into blood-soaked rags.

  The file descends into static and white noise again then cuts off. I look at Jameson and he stares back at me.

  “Is that what it does to them?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Jameson replies, narrowing his eyes while looking at me. “An early, regrettable test. The last variant we developed was much faster, more humane.”

  I know full well that he’s lying. That was the test they were most happy with. I have a vivid memory of the lady talking over the footage the first time I saw it. She had said they were ready for deployment.

  So why is he lying? Is he trying to ease my conscience or is it something else? Perhaps he’s waiting to see how I respond after our conversation this morning. I choose not to say anything, leaving the silence hanging in the air.

  “Anyway, you should rest. Come back to this tomorrow,” Jameson says.

  The memory of watching those people die keeps playing in my mind as I return to my room. Rags held to mouths and coming back bloody. Bodies on the ground everywhere.

  I force myself to keep it together until I get somewhere private. Last thing I need is to break down in full view of Jameson.

  Other, fresher memories jostle for position. Seeing friends gunned down during the raid where Jameson’s thugs caught me. Images of Kara being buried alive that I know my brain is making up as I only saw the explosion, but feel authentic nonetheless.

  By the time I reach my door I’m barely keeping the tears at bay. I don’t stop when I enter my room and push the door closed behind me. I keep walking straight for the bathroom where I can lock myself away.

  Steam fills the room as I turn on the shower. A luxury known only to a few of the most privileged of people. Most have to put up with showers of cleaning dust. I’ve had one before when I first got free of the boneyards. They do the job, but nothing like the feel of real water gushing over your skin.

  I know it’s a waste and how much people in the boneyards would yearn for it, but at this moment I don’t care. I strip off my clothes and enter the glass-enclosed shower and let the hot water stream over me.

  The sorrow I’ve been holding back hits me and I collapse to my knees before dropping to the floor. The hot water cascades over me and I curl into a ball. My emotions overrun me.

  My tears stream and my chest heaves as I cry out my soul into the steam and the water.

  8 - Kara

  Our armor-plated aircar rockets across the Badlands and I’m feeling pretty badass, like so long as we’re in this thing we’re untouchable. It’s hard to see out of since steel plating covers most of the windows, but behind us all I can see is a trail of billowing dust.

  I maneuver to where Nils is piloting. The windows at the front aren’t covered in plate steel. Instead a thick wire mesh offers some protection while still allowing visibility to steer.

  “How long do you reckon before we get to where we’re going?” I ask.

  Nils looks at the readouts of the instruments in front of him. He frowns at one and taps it a few times and it changes to something he finds more agreeable.

  “According to all this,” he says waving his hands over the various readouts, “about twelve hours. Give or take.”

  Outside, miles of desolate land races by the aircar at breakneck speed. It all looks the same as where we left. Collapsed buildings and miles of dead earth stretching to the horizon.

  After seeing the all the greenery underground, I can’t help
but wonder what all this used to look like. I’m not sure how long I’m staring out the window, but eventually I realize Nils is talking to me.

  “Sorry?” I say. “What did you say?”

  “I said that this is all there is until we reach the city to the west. You’re welcome to stay and watch but you’d be better off to rest up in the back.”

  A soft snoring sound drifts towards us. Nils looks over his shoulder and laughs.

  “See? Stilwell’s got the right idea,” he says and turns back to watching the miles pass us by.

  I relent and grab a seat next to Stilwell in the back and try to get comfortable. It’s not easy since most of the interior has been ripped out to make space, but I get there in the end.

  The hours drift by without incident. Nils and Stilwell swap roles occasionally with one resting while the other pilots. After a few swaps I ask Nils if he could show me how to work the aircar next time it’s his turn. He agrees and I’m excited. The journey so far has been interminably boring. At least having a go of flying this beast of an aircar might liven things up for me.

  When my time comes, I sit in the cockpit and take hold of the controls. Nils tells me to relax my grip, and it’s only then I notice my knuckles are turning white.

  “Sorry, bit nervous,” I say, and he laughs.

  “Don’t stress so much. Most of the systems are automatic, anyway. You’re mainly here to put a human brain in the loop.”

  He points to and explains the different readouts in front of me. Direction, velocity, height, wind direction and speed, radar, fuel, and a bunch of miscellaneous buttons and switches.

  “The radar is good for a few miles in every direction,” Nils says pointing at it. “Buildings and other objects will appear as dots on the display. We’re the little triangle in the middle of it. The aircar is smart enough to avoid most things, but keep an eye on it, anyway.”

  A large dot appears on the radar and moves closer to our triangle as we approach it. The aircar adjusts its course by a couple of degrees and we swerve around it, easily missing it.

  “Okay, I think I got this,” I say. “I’ll shout if I need you for anything.”

  Nils pats me on the shoulder and heads to the back of the aircar.

  I pilot the aircar for about an hour with nothing at all happening. I’m thinking maybe this wasn’t as exciting as I hoped it would be. Outside, the endless nothing of the Badlands drifts by. Even at the speed we’re traveling the outside world seems to pass by way too slowly.

  I check our speed on the display and it tells me we’re traveling at a speed of ‘R17’. I’m not sure how fast that actually is, but the needle is almost at the top of the readout.

  My eyes drift over to the radar and for the briefest of moments a small dot appears on screen. It’s at the far edge of the display and directly behind us so I don’t think too much about it.

  Five more minutes pass without incident. When I look at the radar again, there are now two dots at the edge of the screen. They don’t disappear though, and if anything they look like they’re getting closer.

  “That’s weird,” I say more for my own benefit. I tap the radar screen with my finger and it hisses with static for a few seconds. When it clears, there are still two dots on screen.

  “Nils,” I call over my shoulder and he snorts awake. “Is there something wrong with the radar?”

  He looks around like he’s getting his bearings.

  “Why?” he asks. “What’s it doing?”

  “It’s showing me two objects right behind us and getting closer.”

  He explodes out of his seat and leaps towards me in a flurry of limbs and curses. He studies the radar for a few seconds and watches the dots move closer to us.

  “Out,” he orders me and I jump from the seat. “Wake up Stilwell and grab the guns. We got company.”

  Stilwell is awake in seconds. We unzip the bags and after tossing the food and medical supplies onto the floor we find the weapons Aisha gave us. We check and load as many as we can, all the while Nils is shouting updates to us from the front.

  There’s not much to choose from but it’ll give us a chance if it comes to it. I strap two guns onto my hips and Stilwell does the same. He reaches into the bag again and, with an almost manic grin on his face, pulls out a grenade belt. Most of the pouches are empty I notice.

  “Two grenades are better than none,” Stilwell says, lifting the loop of the grenade belt over his head so it rests against his chest.

  “Getting closer, less than a minute now I reckon. They’re faster than our top speed.”

  I look past Nils and into the distance and think I can make out the remains of a town to our left. Nils must see it too because we suddenly adjust course and are now pointing directly at it.

  “Think we’ve got cover up ahead. Could be an old town. Might help us even the odds,” he shouts over his shoulder.

  Seconds tick by and the old town looms into view. Much like every other one we’ve seen it’s mostly collapsed buildings and piles of rubble.

  “They’re almost on top of us,” Nils shouts and I look out through the small gap between the armor plating on the back of our aircar.

  “Holy Hell,” I say when I see what is chasing us.

  They look a lot like us. Aircars armored up for war. The one closest to us is painted in what looks like fresh blood and is the bigger of the two. A cannon mounted to its roof points straight at us.

  The other is a mixture of dirty browns and rust. One on one against that guy it’d be close to a fair fight... but against the big red one with the cannon?

  “Brace yourselves!” Nils cries out.

  My head whips around and through the front of the aircar I can see we’re headed straight for a massive pile of concrete.

  “What are you doing?” I scream at Nils. “You TRYING to kill us?”

  We must be seconds from hitting the pile of concrete when Stilwell grabs my shoulder and pulls me onto a seat. As my butt hits the springs our aircar lurches and arcs left. We must miss the pile by mere inches.

  I look back at the aircars pursuing us. The big one makes the turn and misses the concrete. The other arcs off too wide and disappears somewhere off behind it.

  “Nice driving,” I shout up to Nils. “Only one of them behind us now.”

  Nils fist-pumps the air and continues to weave us through the remains of hundreds of old buildings. A thumping boom rings out followed by an explosion right on our ass.

  We spin out but Nils is quick to bring us back under control.

  “You’ve got to lose him,” Stilwell calls out. “We can’t take too many hits like that.”

  “What the Hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Nils calls back, obviously pissed off.

  Another sharp turn and we’re zooming between two rows of buildings that have survived better than most. The aircar following us misses the turn and shoots right by. That should buy us a little time.

  Before any of us can relax the other aircar we lost earlier barrels in from a cross road and sideswipes us. Nils strains against the controls to keep us level. The aircar thumps into us again, trying to knock us out of the sky.

  Another thump and a jagged piece of metal plating pierces our defenses, missing Stilwell by less than an inch. He curses and dives out of range. Nils pulls on the controls but the other aircar comes with us.

  “We’re locked,” Stilwell shouts to Nils.

  Nils glances over his shoulder at the hunk of metal joining our aircar to theirs. A smirk breaks across his face like he’s had a great idea. He turns his attention back to what’s in front of us.

  “Brace yourselves,” he shouts.

  I grab onto the closest thing to hand and hold on for dear life. We’re pulled from left to right as Nils fights the aircar trying to pull away from us. If I had to guess I’d say they’ve worked out what Nils is planning to do.

  The remains of two old buildings lie in front of us. Large slabs of concrete and steel piled high. There’s e
nough room for one of us to pass between them, but not both of us. Nils is pulling us one way and the aircar we’re locked with is pulling us the other.

  We’re inching sideways, the wrong way. Nils is slowly losing the battle. In a few seconds we’ll smash headlong into the mountain of concrete. In a last ditch effort I kick at the slab of metal joining our aircars. I kick and push and all the while the mountain is getting closer and closer.

  With an ear-piercing screech the metal gives way and our aircars separate. We shoot through the gap, careening off the pile on the right before Nils can straighten us out.

  From behind us an enormous boom rings out and seconds later we’ve got chunks of concrete raining down on us.

  “He won’t be walking away from that,” Nils shouts out and laughs.

  “Still got the big red one to worry about though,” Stilwell shouts back. Damn, I’d forgotten about that one for the moment.

  “Just floor it and get us out of this maze,” Stilwell adds after looking behind us. “I think we might have lost him. If we can put enough distance between us...”

  I look at Stilwell to see why he trailed off and find he’s staring past Nils. The big red one with the cannon is waiting for us at the end of this road. The piles of collapsed building debris are stacked high on either side of us, walling us in.

  Nils glides our aircar to a halt and we sit there, hovering a quarter mile from Big Red. It doesn’t move. It hovers there like it’s waiting for us to decide. Its cannon points at us.

  “What do we do?” I ask.

  “I doubt we can take a direct hit from the front,” Nils replies. “Going forward or backwards he’ll hit us for sure.”

  “What’s that leave us with then?” asks Stilwell.

  “We run,” Nils replies. “I’ll turn us so the side armor is facing them to give us a chance, then we jump and run for it.”

  I check the weapons I’ve got strapped to me. Two handguns. They won’t do anything against the armored aircar, but if we can somehow lure the bandits out of it, we might have a chance.