by GM Gambrell
Twenty Three
Duncan didn’t bother arguing with NAME. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. The machine would follow his real father’s orders without question. Jim had rescued the machine from whatever dark void they went to when they slept, and the machine was eternally grateful to him for it. The doors of the warehouse would stay locked until the computer deemed it so and that was that. He didn’t bother arguing because there simply wasn’t any point. Instead, he spent the dark night hours preparing a pack and sorting out foodstuffs and ammunition for the shotgun he’d acquired from the racks and racks of ancient weaponry. He also spent a good amount of time polishing his steel bars until they gleamed in the artificial light. He then wrapped the ends of each with leather and tied them off until they resembled swords. He fashioned two leather sheaths for them that strapped to the side of his bulging backpack.
Jessica packed her own backpack and arranged her own weaponry.
“Should I bother trying to get you to stay here, where it’s safe?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Jessica looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t even going to dignify that with an answer, he thought, and then felt stupid for asking in the first place. They’d both been torn from their homes, thrust into a world they neither understood nor particularly liked. They had each other, and that was it. She wasn’t going to let him out of her sight, and he felt stupid for even thinking of leaving her there.
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
Jessica smiled, nodded, and went back to her packing. Sometimes words didn’t have to be spoken.
“I’ll need certain supplies packed, as well,” NAME said, rolling forward. “In particular, extra batteries, several oil filters for the MULE,” he said, referring to the six-wheeled cargo carrier that carried him and his power source, “spare oil, solder, a soldering iron, tires…”
Duncan interrupted him. “And what makes you think I’m taking you with me? You’ve got me locked in here.”
“At your father’s request. Once morning arrives, I’ll be free to accompany you. I take it you’ll follow your father?”
Duncan still wasn’t comfortable with calling Jim his father, but didn’t dispute it. “Of course I’ll follow Jim. I’m not going to stay here and run from the Creeping Death when there’s something that can be done about it. I’m not going to go and hide underground.”
“Then you can see my dilemma, as well,” NAME said. “I can subsist for no more than a few days, depending on my batteries’ state of charge, without the sun.”
“You’ll be more of a burden than a help,” Duncan said, but Sir Dog was already laying comfortably among the solar panels and batteries. The dog, much to Duncan’s dismay, had instantly taken to the contraption that was NAME.
“I know things that you cannot possibly know. I know the old highways and byways. I have already computed a probable path for Jim, starting with New Dallas and then working his way southwest, to New San Antonio. Plus, I have many of the great works of fiction from pre-war writers stored in my memory banks, and I make mean lemonade.”
“Lemonade? How could the machine possibly make lemonade?” Jessica asked.
“That was an attempt at humor which I shall strive, in our quest, to work on.”
“I didn’t say you were going,” Duncan insisted but felt as if he’d already lost the argument. NAME could be valuable.
“He’s right. We could use his help,” Jessica told him. “We don’t know what we’ll face out there. In fact, we should take one of these vehicles.”
“No,” Duncan said. “The people of Shreveport will need them when they have to evacuate from the Creeping Death. We can’t do that to them. They’ve been good to us. It’s bad enough that we’re taking what we are. They might need this stuff as well, but…”
“I’m sure they will understand, Duncan,” Jessica said. “There is, at least for now, plenty to go around.”
“You can also use my excess carrying capacity since you’ve decided against taking a vehicle,” NAME said. “With the extra supplies I require, the MULE can carry one hundred, thirty-two pounds. “
“That’s a lot of water,” Jessica commented. “Water is hard to find in the wastes.”
“You could also pack a water purifier,” NAME said.
“We have one of those?”
“Third row, fourth shelf, second box from the right,” NAME said. “It’s labeled water purifier.”
“That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Jessica laughed.
Duncan nodded and didn’t answer with what he was thinking. He just hoped that the few supplies they were taking wouldn’t mean the difference between life and death for a resident of Shreveport if they had to go underground.
“She is correct, Duncan. The people of Shreveport will bear you no ill will for seeking your father.”
“But he said he was going to notify the guards and tell them to keep us here.”
“He lied,” NAME said simply. “He didn’t tell them anything, and if he had, they wouldn’t have obeyed him. They would never keep a person in the city against their will unless they were a criminal of some sort. These are a truly free people, Duncan.”
Duncan didn’t know whether to be angry or not, and Jessica said. “He said it to protect you, Duncan. It seems like that’s all he wanted to do, and you can’t blame a father for wanting to protect his son.”
“No, I guess not.” He stared at the pile of equipment in front of him, then began searching for the equipment to put on NAME’s carriage. He was scared but excited to be getting out in the Wastes again. Despite the looming danger, he knew that’s where the answers to most of his burning questions lay. And he wasn’t going to lose his father again.