by Eve Langlais
“And quickly. Oliander says those babies are coming in the next fourteen days. The next batch, forty-one days later.”
“Making babies in a tank. I don’t get it.” He shook his head.
“It’s to control their genetics,” Axel growled. “If I had my way, I’d destroy this place.”
“I’d like to kill a few people, myself.”
The babies in the tanks were one thing. Gunner had a real problem with the babies being carried by the women kept prisoner in the Incubaii Domes. Women with desirable genes and magical gifts. Gifts others wanted to exploit. And so they bred those women with powerful men, believing those kinds of babies ended up stronger. More powerful.
All the better to rule.
As to what kind of power…To remain relevant in this new future, humanity had evolved. Necessity unlocked abilities. Some people, like Oliander, could do some light healing. Axel could talk to the Wolgar in the forest. His promised, Laura, could move things with just the power of her thought. Others could command minds.
Those were considered the desirable abilities. Extra limbs, fur, scales, or anything outwardly apparent was firmly rejected. When the Enclave detected an aberration in a fetus, they terminated early. If the mutant feature developed later, there were uses for them.
“Once the babies are born, we need to destroy those tanks.”
“They’ll just build more.” Axel rubbed his face. “Don’t forget, this isn’t the only Incubaii Dome.”
“I know. Just like I know the only reason there’s not more tanks full of babies is because they had issues with fertilization.” Some kind of contaminant had destroyed the ovum this dome had access to. “It’s inhumane what they’ve done.”
“To them, people are expendable.” The very concept made the stomach roil. Axel rubbed his face in fatigue. “If the Enclave attacks in force, we’ll have a problem.”
“I thought the plan was evacuate, scatter in a few directions, and regroup at Chasm Falls since we don’t have the numbers to hold the dome.”
“It was mentioned to me we can’t abandon the babies.”
Gunner shifted. “I hadn’t thought about them.”
“Because we’re used to moving pregnant women around, not a bunch of tanks. If we leave, the Enclave gets them back and we condemn those children.”
“If we stay and die, we still condemn them.”
Axel clenched his jaw. “Meaning, I’m fucked either way.”
“If it’s any consolation, we’ll die heroes.”
“I’d rather live a while longer.”
There was a knock on the door, and Gunner opened it. Laura stood there, her slim figure silhouetted in the doorway, her honey-blonde hair tied back. She gestured. “Better get outside, there’s some kind of a drone hanging out overhead.”
“Fuck! Tell them to shoot it down!” Axel yelled.
Laura stepped aside as Axel bolted for the door. Gunner beat him to it and raced outside the command building. Dusk fell, and a hint of dust in the air brought his gaze overhead to see the gap in the dome. A drone had removed a panel and slipped in. The enemy had made its move.
His gun cleared his holster even as he made all the connections. His wasn’t the only bullet to tear into the metal body. The drone hit the ground, and they stared at it.
“Sound the alarm,” Axel ordered. “I’m going to assume the Enclave knows we’re here, which means we need to start evacuating people.”
“What about the baby tanks?” Gunner asked.
Axel swore.
Then swore again when Nikki came running. As a resident of Haven for a few years now, he’d gotten to know her steady nature. Not so steady now.
“Something’s wrong!” she screamed. The panic on her face had them racing to meet her. “There’s something wrong with the computers.”
When wasn’t there a problem with electronics? You’d think given the problems they had making them work properly and consistently that they would have abandoned them. But a place like the Incubaii Dome that relied on a small staff, computers, and automated systems could reduce the manual workload.
They could also be hacked.
“Gunner, you handle the problem with the machines. I’m going to get shit moving along,” Axel said.
“Got it.” Gunner jogged behind Nikki, who wasn’t usually one to panic.
He re-entered the command building to hear Zara mumbling, “Lizard-humping, fucking steaming pile of—” Their resident tech expert could have a colorful repertoire of words. But no one corrected the sloe-eyed woman.
“What’s happening?” Gunner demanded. Judging by the grim expressions, the tank problem had taken a critical turn.
“A remote signal managed to lock us out of the tank building’s controls. And I mean locked out. The buildings with gestational units have been sealed.”
“Any people inside?” he asked.
“Surprisingly no. But we can’t get in. If we try to blow the doors, the whole place is programmed to flush.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Now it was Gunner who rubbed his face. “What’s the rest? I’m sure there’s more shit news.”
“There is a force coming our way. I don’t know how we didn’t see them. It’s as if they popped out of nowhere and are only now being picked up on camera.”
It didn’t surprise him. Electronics were wonky at the best of times, and the Enclave had secret ways of protecting themselves. “Pack up and move out.”
“What about the babies?”
“We can’t help them. They’ll be fine. We, on the other hand, won’t be.”
“Should I leave the office a mess?” Zara asked, standing with a glass half full of water.
“Let’s not make it easy for them.” He gave a nod and watched as she dumped it onto the electronic console, seeping into the cracks. It didn’t have the same explosive result as the chair Nikki grabbed and smashed into the screens, but it did the trick.
Since they were handling shit, Gunner rejoined Axel, who barked orders to those who’d gathered. “Let’s get the non-fighters on those vehicles. I want them out of here now.” It didn’t surprise Gunner when Axel said his name next. He had a sixth sense. “Gunner.”
“Yeah, boss.”
“Get the riders out on their bikes. See if you can lead some of the Enclave forces off to give the slower trucks a chance to get to the forest. I doubt they’ll follow us in there.”
“On it.”
Gunner veered off, uttering a sharp piercing whistle. He did it all the way to the vehicle corral just outside the dome. People came at his call, the tough ones, wearing their leathers and the goggles that never left their necks. Neither did their scarves. Always ready to move and fight at a moment’s notice.
“Riders mount up. We’re providing wing diversion. I want three of you ready to go in two minutes. The next wave, you leave three after that. Just like we practiced.” Because they’d known this day was coming.
The riders in the first line ran for their bikes. They knew what to do, given he’d begun training them since their arrival at the dome. He had only eight riders in total, eight to buy time for the many to escape.
People poured out of the dome, mostly adults, but there were children too. They weren’t whining or clinging, except to their things. Being a Wastelander meant being transient. It wasn’t uncommon to pick up and move camp in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take long for them all to be loaded and moving out.
Gunner pulled down his goggles, and his scarf went up. He and Vera, a woman he’d paired with more than a few times when it came to Haven security, were in the final group.
Except Vera was cursing as she kicked at her bike. “It won’t start.”
“We don’t have time to fix it. Throw it in a truck and grab a point spot.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got luck by my side.” He winked and sped off, keeping to the timing they’d agreed on.
Each group moved
out of the dome and arced off into different directions, spreading out in thin numbers to hopefully cast a wide net. With too many holes.
They were too few to mount a proper defense. If only they didn’t have to run all the time. As he sped, he couldn’t help but think of the Lost City. A city they’d never have to flee from. Axel could give up being boss if he wanted. Gunner could apply to the guard. People could stop looking over their shoulders and drawing daggers at every noise.
As a plume of dust rose behind him, he noticed the forest to his far left, a dark smudge that would provide sanctuary to those who reached it. Not safety mind, but the Enclave soldiers would be wary of entering.
He headed straight north. Hard to believe that used to mean pointing to some polar pole. According to the history he knew, the world no longer had stationary ice caps. Just a few massive moving continents of pure cold. Which he found hard to imagine. Stories spoke of water frozen into flakes or even into tiny icicles.
Pure nonsense. Straight north now meant toward the most barren strip of land that undulated with sandy dunes, which sucked at the tires and made fancy moves difficult. Not impossible.
He gunned the bike, rolling it up the hill as fast as it would go, peaking, and for a moment, he was airborne, the rumbling bike between his thighs, giving him a clear view. And in the dip between the dunes was a fucking tank. The cannon swiveled in his direction.
Gunner cursed. It felt as if he moved in slow motion as he leaned and wrenched on the bike, changing its angle of descent, still feeling the burn as the missile shot by. It hit the sand dune and exploded it. He hit the ground, front tire still too sideways. He spilled over and rolled a few times. Which hurt. Quite a bit.
He popped to his feet and sprinted, zigging and zagging, doing his best to draw the cannon fire, hoping his luck would hold. Another bike suddenly wheelied overhead. He waved his arms, knowing they wouldn’t hear his yell.
The tank wouldn’t be teased into following. They’d have to destroy it.
Changing direction, he ran for the massive metal weapon. He leaped for it, grabbing the edge so he could swing aboard. He headed for the top of the tank and raised his hands as the muzzle of a gun pointed at him.
Gunner grinned. “Hey, Casey.”
Bang. The soldier pointing the cannon at him collapsed, and Casey glared at him from the other side of the nest. “Element of surprise. Stop ruining it.”
“You got this?” He pointed to the tank.
She ignored him to pull out a saber torch. It lit, and she went to work on the hatch. He didn’t take offense at her lack of loquaciousness. Casey tended to be very focused when it came to work. Mostly, he suspected to escape her overbearing brother, Cam.
“Where’s your bike?” he asked. “Never mind. I see it.”
He jumped to the ground and ran for the bike, gunning it. He wanted to see what lay on the other side of this dune. Hopefully not another tank, or something worse.
He crested the top and once more had to swerve, because it turned out the whining of bikes he’d been hearing? Not his riders.
The Enclave soldiers gunned their machines and aimed for him.
Gunner prayed to the god of luck and took off full throttle. In his mirror, he could see he’d drawn a good number of them. He just had to make sure he didn’t lose them too quickly.
He hopped the next few dunes, happy to see no more hidden troops. In his mirror, he noticed the crowd behind him thinning.
He stopped atop the next pile of sand and stared back as they sped away. Why away? A gust of wind brought a silt of fine dust, making him wonder if they feared toxicity in the air.
He’d been born on these plains. Took his first breath choking on the poison. It made him stronger. But not immune to everything.
The wind picked up in strength, and he glanced the other way to see a worrisome sight. A funnel cloud was coming right for him. A dusty beast of howling winds and scouring sand.
“Fuck.” He already wore goggles to protect his eyes, but his exposed skin was flayed. Thankfully the scarf covered most of his face, and his gloves protected the bulk of his hands. The lack of fingers had him tucking them into fists.
The wind kept pushing, and with the visibility gone, it was as if he didn’t even move. He did the only thing he could, held on to his bike.
The storm proved stronger, lifting them both with its ferocity, and the terrible tearing forced him to let go and protect himself as it flung him around and around hard enough to strip away his goggles and scarf. Even with his eyes shut, the orbs burned as fine grit worked its way in. The wind stole his every cry. Sucked the breath right out of him before finally slamming him on the ground, half dead. Lost.
His next conscious memory was that of a feminine voice drawling, “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Three
What possessed her damned feline to drag this man back to her place?
Sofia eyed the limp form, his clothes dusty and tattered. He lay on his back, eyes closed, showing off a face that was swollen and red. The exposed skin on his body hadn’t fared well. Even with the fine layer of dirt covering him, she could see the many scratches and the darkening of flesh indicating contusions, but his limbs appeared unbroken.
Pity. A man with a broken leg or arm would have been easier to handle. Given his rugged appearance, she didn’t expect much in the way of manners from him. Her last experience with a rough-looking guy didn’t end well.
For him.
“What have I said about bringing home living things?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at her cat. By cat, most would picture something dainty and furry with long whiskers, pointed ears, and a whip-like tail.
But then multiply the size, more than a few times. Still cute, and thankfully Sofia’s friend.
For her part, Kitty—the not very original name given to the cat she befriended—appeared innocent. Those big, beautiful jewel-like eyes glinted golden with a hint of green today. Kitty’s big, furry head cocked, and she rolled her front haunches in a shrug, as if to say she didn’t know how his body got in her mouth.
“If you want to play with your food, do it elsewhere,” she teased the cat.
Kitty replied with a chuff. She didn’t eat human, preferring fish from the river instead.
A fact Sofia was thankful for. What she didn’t appreciate was the body she’d have to handle now. He was a big man. The kind that required sweating and cursing to try and move around. The problem with having a cat that outweighed her and seemed freakishly strong.
“You brought him here, you get to take him away.” She pointed to the body and then off in the distance.
The cat stared.
Sofia shook her head. “We are not keeping him. Where did you find him?”
The cat looked off to the side, toward the section of forest farthest from the river. The area she currently lived in was bound by a few natural barriers, meaning it was very hard to reach and, once inside, impossible to get out. If the man lived, they’d have a neighbor.
Pity. She thumbed over the hilt of the knife tucked through the braided vine belt holding up her pants around her waist. She could handle the threat now before he woke.
The cat meowed.
“He’s probably dangerous,” Sofia said aloud. She realized full well she spoke to a cat. She was fine with it.
“Rowr.” Kitty pawed the man’s chest gently, her claws retracted.
“He’ll probably wake up grouchy,” she announced. Grouchy men were mean ones. They also expected her to serve them without delay. But did they do anything in return?
The cat turned those big eyes on Sofia.
Sofia said with a snort, “You want him, then you take care of him. Somewhere else.” She tried to sound stern in the face of those expressive eyes.
Kitty sidled close and rubbed against her, almost knocking her over.
“Don’t you use my love for you against me,” she chided.
The funny sound Kitty made had her sighing. “
I hate it when you do that. How about we start with a look.” Might be best to see if he required disarming before he woke.
She crouched and observed him without touching. “He’s a sorry-looking specimen.”
If a big one. He probably had a few inches on her, and definitely outweighed her. The storm had done a number on him. His face was pretty scratched up. Nothing a bit of cleaning and a mud paste wouldn’t fix. She had most of the ingredients in her pouch except for the mud. That would only take a minute to fetch, and she’d grab fresh water for rinsing his wounds first.
As she began mentally cataloguing everything to do, she frowned. She wasn’t fixing him. She did, however, run her fingers over his jacket, feeling the pockets, pulling out a variety of small things. Mini torch that lit with a flick. A round disc cracked in half and barely holding together. A multi-function tool that went into her pocket. His gun holster was empty. Knife sheath too.
She sat on her haunches. Kitty meowed.
“I don’t know what you want from me. He’s a mess, but I don’t think he’s broken.” Sofia ran her fingers down his arms and legs. Nothing felt out of place. She saw no signs of blood. Just a lot of scrapes and bruising.
No other sign of weapons either. Just like she had no idea who he was. He wasn’t wearing a suit, the kind favored by dome guards and Enclave soldiers. If he lived in the city, then it was the poorest of sections, given his garb wasn’t common. Not in civilized areas. Which meant he was probably one of the Wasteland Rats the Enclave complained about.
Despite never having seen one, there were always stories of their exploits. Brazen thefts. Attacks. Murders…
Those who lived outside the City were barely better than animals. Given how humans sometimes treated each other, she wondered which was really worse.
“I’m going to tie him up. He is much too disreputable looking to trust.”
Despite not moving at all, he replied as if he’d heard her. “I swear, I clean up good.”
“You’re awake?” Her heart pounded, and her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her knife.
“I think I am. Or am I dead? Hard to tell.” He groaned, stirring slightly.