by Darrell Bain
Gary fell silent and they trudged on, block after block. Eventually they came to a part of the city that he had never frequented, consisting mostly of small gated truck farms. They specialized in genetically altered crops for the synthetic foods market. It was one of the few growth industries and promised to expand even more as transportation between cities grew ever more hazardous and expensive. Interspersed with the little farms were old homes and vacant lots peopled by squatters and drifters with no other place to go. When they passed a general store with a sign advertising ammunition and power packs, Gary insisted that they stop.
Inside, while he was selecting powerpacks and clips of ammunition for his lasergun, he saw Maria looking hungrily at hand weapons similar to his. He checked the price, decided that they could afford one and he bought it and some more packs and clips. He waited until they were back outside to hand it to her.
“For me?” Maria asked wonderingly. No one had ever given her a present like this.
Gary chuckled. “The way we're going, you may need it. Do you know how to use a lasergun?"
“No, but I can learn."
“Wait until we get to an open area with no people around and I'll run you through the basics and how to use it safely."
They walked on, each feeling friendlier toward the other now. A couple of hours later the farms on the eastern edge of the city played out and the industrial area began as they began working their way west and north. Low rent housing and apartments were interspersed with factories and warehouses.
Long after his feet were beginning to sting and hurt, even wearing the soft leather boots, he finally asked, “How much farther?"
“Not too far now. We'll hit the old interstate to Dallas in a bit, then we head north. And after that, you know as much as I do. I came in from the west."
“We could have taken an off the books taxi."
“Too conspicuous. We'll arrive on foot and look poor and maybe not have to pay too much."
“Well, I want to stop and rest for a minute.” Gary looked around. They were coming into a little area on the north side of the city specializing in manufacturing clothing and expensive leather goods. After decades of tending toward a service economy, assembly lines were making a comeback, again primarily due to transportation difficulties, both from overseas and within the continent.
“There,” Maria said, pointing to a spot along the solid wall of a three story building. It was a loading bay for raw goods but empty of trucks just then.
Gary gratefully sat down and leaned back against one of the docks. While they rested, he showed Maria how to use the lasergun he had bought for her. She caught on so quickly that he had to explain a function of the weapon only once and she could repeat his instructions back and demonstrate her aptitude.
“The hardest part is learning to sense the different trigger tensions so that you can use only the laser function, either for aiming or as a lethal beam, and then hold up before getting to the point that will fire the slugs. The only way to do that is to practice, so take out the clip and try it as we go along. Put it on your lowest setting so you don't waste power."
Maria did so, being cautious with her weapon as he had instructed. He would have liked to be somewhere that they could fire some slugs so she could get used to the noise and recoil but that would have to wait. At least she wouldn't have to worry much about recoil, he thought. The rocket assisted slugs being used in most weapons alleviated that problem. After a while they moved on.
* * * *
The city sprawled over such a large area that it was nearing dusk when they finally approached the truck plaza. It was a huge complex, not really a single entity. It consisted of too many freight hauling and ancillary businesses to count, and had burgeoned for dozens of miles along the Interstate corridor between Houston and Dallas as imports from overseas fell and manufacturing rose in North America. It was composed of hundreds of enterprises devoted to bringing goods into and out of Houston from the nexus at Dallas where other Interstates ran east and west and further north.
“I talked to the trucker who bought a bunch of passengers from Del Rio,” Maria said. “He was one of the few nice men I've met. He let me ride in the cab with his shotgun and told me a lot about how it all works."
“Like what?” Gary asked.
“Like how to stay on the good side of the Border Security Agents, for one thing. The law says people without private transportation should either fly or take passenger buses so they can keep track of everyone. It's pretty much of a joke though, with so many refugees and so many plane and bus crashes. If you can't afford a floater, you're better off on a truck, regardless of what the law says."
Gary knew this to be true intellectually; he had never expected to experience it first hand. “So where do we go now?"
“To one of the littler plazas. There'll be a restaurant there and we can find a broker to connect us to a trucker who hauls people on the side."
“How much, do you think?"
Maria shrugged. “Depends on how comfortable we want to be.” She named several figures, all of which Gary thought were highway robbery—until he considered the alternative.
He sighed. “We're going to be broke before long, but lead on; I'm tired and hungry.” That statement made him realize that even if he did have cash, some places accepted only computer credit. And in order to have computer credit, he needed not only a new computer but a new identity. “Is there any way to get us some ID and a cheap computer in one of those places? I miss being in touch with events."
“Let it wait. The truckers don't care and chances are, whoever we ride with can connect us to a place in Dallas for that. They work both sides of the street."
He had to be content with that.
* * * *
Gary's feet refused to go any further. He wondered how Maria managed so well in those thin slippers she wore, then remembered: she was part cat; she probably had pads to cushion her weight. In the course of his work he had read numerous articles and reports of successful blending of feline traits with humans, as well as seeing the finished product on occasion. They had become one of the more popular selections for altered humans, perhaps because it was a natural inclination. Women had been compared to cats for centuries at least, perhaps longer.
“Are you ready to try a place?” Gary asked wearily.
Maria stopped and let Booger Bear down, cautioning him not to stray.
“Tired riding,” the cat said. He went off a little distance and relieved himself.
“I'll carry him now,” Gary said. “How do we go about this? Just go into one of the roundhouses and ask?"
“More or less,” Maria said. “We can eat and look around. The brokers will find us, unless I miss my guess."
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
The roundhouse was centered in the small truck plaza with a conglomeration of large and small freight haulers congregated around it like a mixed litter of animals nosing in to feed from their mother. A slidewalk led from the street they had been following but it was unpowered, even if holographic posts along each side did mark the way. Gary and Maria followed it to the main building where the restaurant and rented cubbyholes were doing a thriving business. The tables were organized in ranks and rows with narrow paths between them for waiters, servitors and patrons to move about.
Maria led him along a corridor through tables with an odd assortment of humans occupying almost all of them. The truckers were a mixed bag, most wearing silver jumpsuits to mark their profession but their appearance was as varied as marks at an old time carnival. Some were bearded; some wore hats and helmets at rakish angles, most with tiny blinking lights of different colors that told supplicants what they were hauling and whether they were coming or going. Almost all were openly armed. Brokers occasionally wandered among them, expensively dressed and speaking to their computers or to truckers and their hangers-on in loud confident voices, but still inaudible over the cacophony of voices and rattle of trays and the blare of
the giant holovison playing against both side walls. Shouts of food and beverage venders to the cooks and bartenders added to the clamor. A part of the huge room was taken up with entrances to cubbyholes, available for an hour or a night for any use one might want. Prostitutes of both sexes worked the aisles, vying for room with the human waiters carrying trays.
A table at the back of the room came open and Maria grabbed it while Gary was still looking around in wide-eyed wonder. He had never seen, nor even heard of such a place. It brought the realization that, while he might have a doctorate in genetics, other parts of his education were sadly lacking. He was like an upper class child suddenly dropped into a juvenile detention facility. Even though he had killed two men and wounded a third in the last two days, he felt as insecure as an otter suddenly transported to a sandy desert. Despite the assault on his senses, he had to stifle a yawn. The day's events were catching up to him.
Maria unwillingly mimicked him.
Gary reached up to remove his hat and get some of the breeze from overhead fans into his sweaty hair.
“No, not yet,” Maria warned. “It helps to conceal your face. Listen, I think we had better rest before we try the trip north. Let's take a cubby and have some food delivered. We can have a broker come see us there."
“I'd rather get on the road, but we'll do whatever you think is best,” Gary said.
Maria started to tell him how tired she was, then saw that his attention had been diverted.
Gary was staring at the holovision display. A news program was on, something about congress and genetics, but he couldn't hear it over the multitude of conflicting noises in the place. “How do we get sound?” He asked, never taking his eyes from the screen, reading the dialog that scrolled beneath it.
“You don't. Just read. What is it?"
Gary made shushing motions with his hand. This was important. He stared at the screen, mesmerized. Maria shrugged and began looking for a broker.
Before long, one appeared, beating the waitress by a step. She passed on by and let him make his pitch.
“You folks looking for a ride?"
Maria reached over and tugged on Gary's sleeve to get his attention, at the same time motioning for the nattily clad broker to sit down.
Gary tore his attention from the holo and eyed the man sitting opposite him. He was dressed in jeans and jean jacket, much as Gary had been wearing the day before, but they were of some synthetic different than the usual make, with highlights of silver and gold catching and reflecting the multitude of lights, making them appear to glitter. He examined the man's clothes while he shook hands. Only well-off people could afford that kind of raiment.
“We need a cubby and a meal,” Maria said, not bothering to give their names.
“No, we need a ride north, but we'll take some food packs with the ride. And we want something where we can get a little rest."
“No problem. Dallas or farther north."
“Dallas,” Maria intoned before Gary could debate choices.
The broker stroked his luxuriant mustache with one hand and touched his chest with the other, bringing up a display in front of his eyes that was invisible to them. He stared into space for a moment then looked back at them. “I've got one leaving in two hours. Ride in back the first part, but as soon as she's two hours on the road, you have to move to the front.” His face twitched in the barest smile of understanding. “That would give you four hours of rest. “And you have to be armed, both of you."
“How much?” Gary asked.
He named a sum.
“No,” Maria said bluntly. “What do you take us for, refugees?"
The broker's eyes narrowed. “I did, but perhaps you're not. Most refs are headed south, not north. Dallas isn't hiring, except for barricade work, and frankly, it's not worth it unless you're starving."
“Casualties?"
“Lots. Since the dry line shifted west, lots of those damned smart animals are moving with it. They're multiplying like crazy, and so far as the carnivores are concerned, humans are as good to eat as anything else. The herbivores are hell on crops, too."
Gary knew all of this in a general sense, but this was bringing it home, and it was just one more reason for the broadcast he'd just listened to. “Well, we still want to go north, but not at that price,” he said, taking his cue from Maria.
“What kind of heat you got?"
Gary stared for a moment until he understood what he was referring to, then told him, not mentioning that Maria was a novice at handling her lasergun, but adding that they were well supplied with powerpacks.
“Good. That helps. The hijackers are getting too damned desperate and it makes them fearless. Okay, final price, assuming the driver agrees.” He named another sum which was much lower than before.
“Deal,” Gary said, not bothering to consult Maria. He wanted to get the hell out of this place and under cover.
The broker touched his display, pursed his lips and nodded, then looked back at them. “Done. Let's see your money."
* * * *
The truck driver looked them over with a jaundiced eye. She was pleasant looking, though older than either of them by a number of years. Her face was tanned and slightly wrinkled from driving in sun and wind. After hearing about how enhanced animals were ravaging the area around Dallas, Gary had slid his hand into Booger Bear's pocket and touched him with the signal that meant to stay still and quiet until told otherwise. He didn't want the appearance of his enhanced pet to mar the deal.
Appearing to finally approve, the driver said “I get you there safe, I get a bonus. Ten percent and no argument. Another ten and any Security Rat as asks gets told nothing. I saw that broadcast and I've heard of you.” Her lips parted in a jaded smile that held no animosity toward them, despite their wanted status.” Gary winced, but agreed.
“All right, jump in back. I got some connections to make. Here's something to eat now so you don't have to wake up when I leave.” She handed them some food bars and a canteen. “I'll keep the rest for when you move up front. Sleep tight.” The female trucker smiled again and turned to lead them to the back of the truck but then stopped and spoke to both of them. “Oh yeah. I've been in that place and seen how Mac treated his help. So far as I'm concerned, someone shoulda shot him long ago."
She appeared sincere, right down to the heavy duty lasergun riding on her hip that she patted every so often, as if to make sure it was ready at an instant's notice. She opened the rear hatch for them. There was very little room left after the load had been braced and padded. A cargo pallet in a narrow cave-like space barely big enough for the two of them was what they would ride on.
The hatch closed behind them and a glow light came on, providing a barely adequate bulwark against complete darkness. It was just sufficient for Gary to see how to unwrap his and Booger Bear's meal, but Maria had no problem at all with her eyes, the slit pupils letting in enough light to activate her night vision.
“What was that about a broadcast?” Maria asked around a mouthful of synthetic ingredients flavored with artificial spices and sweeteners.
“You didn't see it?"
“No, I was looking at people."
Gary took a bite of his food bar. He was so hungry that it tasted delicious, despite its synthetic origin. “Congress jumped the gun. I guess they figured Bradshaw was going to be elected for sure and wanted to start him off right."
“What did they do?"
Gary took another bite before answering. “They passed a bill outlawing all further mammalian genetics—and nationalized all agricultural genetics. They drafted every geneticist in the country, but there was something funny about the way it was announced. I think they're going to imprison the ones like me that worked with animals. Maybe worse. Whatever, we're going to be scapegoats."
Maria could tell even in the dim light that his face was strained with worry. “Is that all?"
He licked the wrapper of the bar and crumpled it up. “No. Right at the end, they put o
ut a list of ‘Outlaw Genetic Engineers'. I was on the list.” He smiled grimly, and they went on. “Altered humans are no longer citizens. They are required to turn themselves in, thence to be shipped to ‘reservations'. I can only imagine what that would mean, if they even intend to carry it out. I suspect it's just a ploy to get them all to register so they know where they are."
Maria took a moment to absorb it all, then lay down. “It couldn't be any worse than what I've already been through. Not that I intend to let myself be hauled off to a reservation."
Gary lay down beside her. “What could be worse than being hunted as outlaws?"
Maria wondered if he would be as friendly if he knew about her past. “I'll tell you later. Right now let's get some sleep."
There was only one comfortable position possible for them all, with Maria holding Booger Bear in front of her and backing up to Gary spoon fashion. The cargo pad was soft enough and they were exhausted enough that neither woke to the rumble of the truck's engine that got them on their way.
* * * *
The only way Gary could sleep had been with his arm around Maria's waist as they lay on their sides. When the truck stopped, the lack of movement woke him. The first thing he became aware of was that his hand was cupped comfortable around Maria's breast. Almost at the same time he sensed that she was awake; for how long, he didn't know. Hastily he removed his hand and struggled into a sitting position. Maria rolled over and looked at him.
“Sorry. I didn't mean anything,” Gary said.
“It's all right. You were asleep and I just left you that way.” She gave him a tiny smile that gave him a brief glimpse of her canines.
“Meow,” Booger Bear said, in English.
“You're trying to be funny,” Gary admonished. He pinched his thumbnail and forefinger together and read the time. They had been on the road only an hour.
“Why did we stop?” he asked Maria.
“I don't know. Probably to talk to another trucker for a minute."
As if to verify her statement, the idling engine rumbled to life and the ride continued.