She huddled low in her seat as they crossed the Bay, cloud shadows shifting on the grey water. Uncle Rex steered into the Berkeley sea lane, gesturing south towards the shipyards where a huge black submarine lay in dry dock, engineers and construction workers swarming over it.
“There she is,” Rex said proudly as Cane recognised the giant carcass of the Kraken. “The vessel my ministry commissioned to defend Frisco. The one I stole and gave to your father. The one those mudfoots crippled and that we had to drag a thousand miles back for repairs.”
“The disagreement between you,” she said. “It was all an act, wasn’t it?”
“Of course,” Rex smiled. “Our dispute had to be nasty, and it had to be public. The Council needed to have no doubt where my loyalties lay. But in truth, they were always with my family, with my brother. And they always will be.”
They rolled up on to dry land, turning into the long, tree-lined street and pulling up behind the house on the shore, the half-sunk one with the driftwood door. Through the kitchen window Cane could see her grandmother stirring a pot, her spectacles fogged by the steam. Suddenly she reached a decision.
“I don’t want this,” she said, forcing the words out. “I lied to Councillor Sedna for you, I kept the family out of it. But whatever my father is planning, whatever you’re going to do, I don’t want to be involved.”
Rex smiled. “Oh, child, it’s much too late for that. You’re already involved.”
Cane gritted her teeth. “I mean it. If you force me, I’ll go to someone. I’ll tell Sedna, I sw—”
Her uncle’s hand moved so fast it was a blur, locking around Cane’s wrist. His face was suddenly close to hers, his mouth tight, his eyes hard. “If you say anything to anyone, you’re done,” he spat. “I don’t care whose daughter you are, we will end you, child.”
He let go and Cane scrambled back, pressing up against the door of the car, breathing hard.
But Rex just chuckled softly. “Come on, you look like you’ve seen the ghost of Davy Jones and his monkeys. If you do as you’re told, you’ll be fine. Better than fine. London wasn’t the only scheme your father and I came up with, you know. Wait till you hear about Plan B.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s get inside. You know your grandma hates to be kept waiting.”
12
Fort Coronado
The yellow bus rattled along a stony track between rows of slender pines, trailing The Five’s army like a pebble in the wake of a landslide. Inside, the air was choked with dust, powdery clouds swirling in the beams of light slanting from bullet holes in the walls and windows. Joe sat hunched on the frontmost bench, his hands cuffed in front of him, peering through a crack in the steel plate and wondering how far they’d come and how far they had left to go.
For two days and nights he and Nate had been confined to this rolling prison, sleeping on the benches and feeding on scraps. He still had the metal shard he’d found in the dust that first night, and they’d been taking it in turns to try to pick their cuffs, so far without success. But where would they go, even if they did escape? They’d left the desert behind but this new place seemed almost worse: a forbidding forest like something from a fairy tale, no doubt crawling with bandits and witches and man-eaters both human and animal.
There was a sudden roar outside the bus and Joe jerked upright. But it was just a car, Leo’s hulking off-roader, black smoke gushing from the exhaust. The boy gripped the wheel, smirking as he drew alongside. “Hey, Lynx,” he shouted. “How are the kids? Told ’em any good bedtime stories?”
“Get bent, Brad,” Lynx retorted, jerking the wheel sideways, the bus lurching wildly. But Leo was too fast; he laughed as he hit the accelerator, leaving a cloud of fumes in his wake.
“Some friends,” Lynx muttered bitterly, shifting gears. “Like I chose to play nursemaid to you two dweebos.”
Nate snorted. “It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t betrayed us to The Five in the first place…”
“Betrayed you?” Lynx cut in. “I never owed you anything. I owe The Five everything.”
“Why?” Joe asked. “Why are you so loyal to them?”
Lynx’s eyes narrowed. “What do you care?”
Joe shrugged. “Your friend said to tell us a story. How about that one?”
Lynx hesitated, then sighed. “I guess it can’t hurt. Truth is, I wasn’t much older’n you when they found me. I was living on the streets down in El Paso, just one in a million lost kids. The Five put the word out they were going to have auditions – they were looking for reliable folk to carry shipments across the state. I was the youngest in the room but I didn’t let it phase me. Then this big guy starts making a fuss, saying he didn’t know they were hiring little kids. I didn’t even talk back, I just went up and punched him right in the … well, you can guess where. The Five thought it was hilarious. I got hired on the spot.”
The smuggler smiled wistfully. “I paired up with Brad that first day. His people were scrap traders so he already had a car. He’d drive and I’d run defence in case we hit trouble. And there was plenty of that, believe me. The stuff we were carrying was the best – aspirin, insulin, Ventolin – everybody wanted it. Leona – Tigress – she came on soon after. She was boss of her own little outfit north of Shreveport, tried to snatch our merchandise. It obviously didn’t work out. But we liked the way she drove so I asked the bosses to let her join up. That was when they started calling us Wildcats because we never let our prey get away. We were the best and they gave us anything we wanted. New cars, fine food, you name it. They put their complete trust in us, in me, and in return I— What in boot hill’s that?”
Joe ducked instinctively as something soared above the bus, emitting a deafening roar like a speedboat engine. The convoy slowed as the winged shadow passed over, men shielding their eyes and staring up in disbelief. The flying machine banked in mid-air, soaring back towards them.
“An airplane,” Nate said in a hushed voice. “I don’t believe it.”
The plane was little more than a steel frame with stubby wings poking out, propeller whirring as the engine gushed grey smoke. At the back was a large fin with smaller wings branching from it, and poking from the underbelly were a pair of chunky rubber wheels. A single occupant sat hunched in the exposed cockpit, peering down through plastic goggles.
“My teacher said all the flying machines were gone,” Joe said. “Not enough petrol to keep them going.”
“Looks like they’ve stripped this one down,” Lynx observed. “Maybe it’s light enough to run on chem fuel.”
The little plane descended, lower and lower until it was almost skimming the tops of the trees. It kept sinking and Joe cried out, convinced it was going to crash.
Then suddenly the forest fell away and they were driving along the edge of a vast hole in the ground, so wide he could barely see the other side. The walls were sheer and craggy, and in the depths he could make out stone spires banded with lines of coloured rock. There were trees down there too, and the shimmer of water in the valley bed.
“It’s a canyon,” Nate said in astonishment.
“The Grand one,” Lynx told them. “You can kinda see where it got the name.”
Joe nodded breathlessly. “I hope we don’t fall in.”
The trucks sped along the track, sending sand and pebbles cascading over the canyon’s edge. The plane rose beside them, keeping level. Joe watched it keenly.
“I wonder where it came from?”
Lynx gestured ahead. “I’m going to hazard a guess and say right there.”
Joe lifted his gaze and gulped. A massive structure clung to the canyon’s lip, rising like a beached battleship. It reminded him of the Tower of London, high walls of corrugated steel surrounding a courtyard and a stocky central turret. Uniformed gunmen stood on the fort’s outer ramparts, their rifles trained as the convoy approached.
“What is this place?” Nate asked. “What are we doing here?”
Lynx shrugged. “It’s non
e of my business. Which means it’s certainly none of yours.”
The convoy braked, drawing up outside a set of huge spiked gates made from whole pine trunks lashed with rope. The flying machine made a final pass then it descended behind the ramparts. Nate watched it thoughtfully, leaning close to Joe and talking in a whisper. “You know, if we had an airplane we wouldn’t have to worry about outlaws or cannibals. We could just fly straight to Frisco.”
Joe eyed him doubtfully. “How would we work it? Do you think it’s easier or more difficult than a submersible?”
Nate shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to look, could it? If we got the chance.”
Joe bit his lip. “I don’t think Kara would like it.”
Since the radar station they’d only set eyes on her once, sitting by the fire in conversation with one of The Five. Joe had tried to get her attention but she wasn’t looking his way – in fact, she seemed to be making an effort not to look at them at all.
Nate touched his cheek resentfully. “I don’t really care what she likes.”
Joe sighed. “You know why she hit you. She had to convince them, so they’d keep trusting her. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well, it felt like she did,” Nate said. “It felt … personal.”
“Only to you,” Joe said. “And only because… Well, because you like her. You do, don’t you? I know you think it’s a secret but I’m not stupid.”
Nate flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Me and Kara are friends. Or at least we used to be.” He gazed up at the crenellated ramparts and the soldiers standing guard. “But if the opportunity comes, we should take it. I want to get a closer look at that machine.”
“Welcome to Fort Coronado,” Dash said, gesturing through the train car’s observation dome at the steel fort rising over them. “Not that it looks very welcoming, I admit.”
“Why have we come here?” Kara asked. “Are these your people too?”
Dash frowned. “Yes and no. These are the headquarters of the Arizona Brigade, one of the oldest and most powerful militias on the continent. They have something we need. Something that’ll help us in our fight against the Mariners.”
Kara looked at the clone but his face was expressionless, his eyes dark. “It won’t be long now, will it?” she asked softly. “Until we reach the border. Until the … the war. Look, we can still stop this. I know you have doubts about it all. We could talk to your brothers and—”
“I told you,” Dash said firmly. “My brothers and I are in complete agreement. On this. On everything.”
Kara fell silent. She couldn’t risk pushing him. Not yet.
She’d spent almost all her time with Dash in the days since the bunker, talking about the past and the future, telling him of the Shanties and hearing stories about his childhood. She’d been trying to figure out why he was special, what set him apart from his brothers besides his birthmark. Perhaps she could use it somehow, split him off from the rest, get him thinking for himself.
But in the process she’d discovered something unexpected. Every so often the others would join them, chiming in with their own recollections of life in the bunker. And as they spoke, Kara had started to notice differences between them – subtle at first, but more and more obvious the better she got to know them. Despite appearances, each of The Five was unique.
Knuckles had a sarcastic streak; he laughed at everyone, even his brothers, sometimes so subtly that they didn’t know they were being mocked. Grey was the calm one; when disagreements arose, his was the deciding voice. Boxer was full of fire; he would arrange sparring matches with soldiers from the army, fights that he invariably won. And he was absolutely devoted to his brother Scar, who Kara now knew was the worst of them: ruthless, sly and vengeful.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
Kara jumped as Scar appeared at her side. “These are tough people,” he said admiringly. “Let’s hope they still want to buy what we came to sell.”
“Come, brother,” Knuckles said, joining them, “I’m sure your natural charm will have its usual effect.”
“We brought what they asked for,” Grey pointed out. “They’ve no reason to refuse us.”
“And if they try,” Boxer growled, “we’ll soon set them straight.”
With a creak, the gates of the fort began to swing open, cogs turning and counterweights descending. Inside was an enormous courtyard with a sandy floor and in the centre, that squat, reinforced tower. A man in a peaked cap waved the train car forward and Scar gave the order to advance.
The soldiers on the rampart turned, keeping the train car in their sights. There were many more in the courtyard, some sparring with sticks or rifles, others just watching silently as the fleet of trucks drew slowly into the stockade. They were all uniformed, all armed and all relatively young, Kara noticed – where were the old folks and the kids? Maybe there was another encampment nearby for civilians.
The flying machine had landed on a strip of earth close to the edge of the canyon, its propeller clattering to a stop. Looking past it, Kara saw that the outer rampart didn’t completely surround the courtyard – there was a gap in one side where the wall met the ravine, and on the edge was a winch, and mules strapped to a winding wheel. Perhaps there was more to this place than met the eye.
The train car shuddered to a halt and a door in the fort’s central tower swung open. Men marched out, raising trumpets and blowing a brisk fanfare. They were followed by a stocky, steel-haired figure in a green uniform, and as she lifted her head Kara recognised the woman she’d seen on the screen back in the bunker.
“That’s our cue,” Knuckles said, leading his brothers down to the door of the train car. He reached for the handle but Scar held up a hand, looking back at Kara.
“There’s no place for her. These are private negotiations.”
Dash frowned. “But I thought—”
“They’re expecting to meet The Five,” Scar said. “Not The Five plus friend. She stays here.”
Kara watched from the doorway as the clones greeted their host, shaking hands in turn. Scar gestured to a pair of trucks parked close to the train car – the same oval-shaped tankers that Lynx and the Wildcats had delivered from the coast. The General nodded her appreciation then they all moved inside, the door swinging shut behind them.
In the courtyard all was quiet, the local militiamen eyeing their counterparts from other states, sizing each other up. As the sun sank the soldiers built a fire and gathered round it, drinking and throwing dice. Kara saw Lynx and the other Wildcats among them, roasting a brace of furry creatures. The bus was parked close by but Lynx barely glanced at it, too busy laughing at some story Tigress was telling. It was fair enough, Kara thought as she headed down the corridor and climbed into her bunk. The boys wouldn’t try anything tonight, not with all those soldiers around.
She still felt bad for slapping Nate. She’d panicked, and he’d paid the price. It had worked, she reminded herself. The Five still trusted her and that was vital. But she kept remembering the look in his eyes, so hurt, so betrayed. And she didn’t like what it said about herself, that she’d resorted so quickly to violence. That old anger was still inside her, ready to rise up at a moment’s notice.
She woke suddenly just before dawn, sitting up in sleepy confusion. There’d been a tap on the window and she lifted the blind, peering out. Two small figures huddled in the shadows, gesturing excitedly. Kara’s heart sank.
She slipped noiselessly along the hallway, hearing soft snores on either side. She peered out cautiously; in the light of the guttering fire she could see the Wildcats sprawled in the dust, while beneath the stone tower a pair of Arizona guardsmen sat smoking. But they weren’t looking her way so she crept down, hurrying to the rear of the carriage.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, startling them. Joe and Nate jerked round and she heard a muffled rattling. “Wait, are you still in handcuffs?”
Joe nodded. “We tried to pick them but we could
n’t. We thought you might be able to help.”
He held out a small sliver of metal, raising his wrists expectantly.
“First you tell me what’s going on,” Kara said. “And it had better be good.”
Nate flushed. “The thing is…” he said, then stopped.
Joe frowned. “Nate was just…” he started, then he broke off as well.
“Say it,” Kara growled.
Joe gestured towards the edge of the canyon. “You see that airplane? We’re going to steal it and fly away.”
Kara struggled to find the words, but they wouldn’t come.
“We’re just going to take a look, for starters,” Nate said. “If the controls are too complicated we’ll go back to the bus. But we have to try. In that thing we could reach Frisco in no time.”
Kara felt a wave of frustration. “Look, I get it,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “You want to warn your people. Time’s running out and you’re feeling desperate. But this is ridiculous, Nate. You need to go back, right now, before Lynx notices you’re gone.”
“Or what? You’ll hit me again?” Nate faced her bitterly. “I don’t think you care about the Mariners at all. I think you’ve made friends with The Five and now you want them to win. You think because their people are poor and hungry like the Shanties, that gives them the right to attack whoever they want.”
“You’re wrong,” Kara insisted through gritted teeth. “Yes, I can see The Five’s point about the Mariners not doing enough to help, and I’m still pretty angry with them for not stopping Cortez. But I don’t support The Five storming into Frisco – how could you think that? A real chance will come, I swear. I’m already working on it, trying to persuade Dash to—”
“Who goes there?”
Kara whipped round, blinking as a torch flicked on, lighting up their startled faces. A guard had rounded the train car just a few feet away; he was barely more than a boy, wearing a green Arizona uniform. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”
DustRoad Page 10