by GM Gambrell
Twenty Four
At first, Duncan enjoyed the light spring rain. It had a cleansing effect, washing the dirt and grime from their bodies, washing away the blood of the woman he’d buried. He stood for a long time in it, letting it wash down his clothes and into his mouth. It was refreshing, but it wasn’t enough to wash away what he’d done. In a fit of panic, he’d killed a woman, a woman whose mind was quite likely trapped in the Void, screaming out for help. Would she still be there, he wondered, unable to escape as he had? Was there any hope at all for those people locked in that dark place? He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get over killing the woman, and his tears fell to the wet, damp earth along with the rain.
When the forest faded and they were finally fully in the territory of the Creeping Death the rain pounded down harder. It stung and turned the ash and dust beneath them to mud. The cleansing effect of the rain faded almost completely, replaced by the slime and grit of wet Creeping Death. Soon they were trudging through pure black mud and were covered in it.
“I’ve managed contact with a remaining weather satellite,” NAME told them. “It’s quite interesting, really. I was not aware that there were any other entities left in existence. That I made contact was merely chance. His power banks are fading and he only has short-range communications. Luckily, he happens to be in geosynchronous orbit.” His wheels slid in the mud and Duncan had to keep pushing him forward. Sir Dog whimpered from atop the machine.
“What does any of that mean?” Duncan asked.
“The satellite’s designation is Weather Watcher 2342. It’s hard to believe that he has survived this long, watching over the earth.”
“He’s like you?” Jessica asked. “An intelligent machine?”
“Affirmative. He is a space-based computer monitoring system designed to keep track of the weather. He also likes to play dominoes.”
Duncan looked around for another NAME. All he saw was rain and mud. “Where is he?”
“I thought I made that clear.” NAME said. “WW 2342 is in orbit above the earth, directly above us.”
Duncan looked up, searching for some sort of floating machine, but saw none. Then it clicked and he remembered reading about the military satellites, armed with lasers and missiles, that had fought in the Last War. “It’s in space,” he told them, “with the stars.”
“Not quite with the stars,” NAME told them. “But close enough for our descriptive purposes. He is very lonely, but he was happy to give me some information. This weather is the remnants of a hurricane that pushed ashore two days ago. He says its official designation, had there been a weather service to give it an official designation, would have been Jacob.”
“Oh,” Jessica said. “We had those in Hackberry.”
“What are they?” Duncan asked.
“Horrible, horrible storms from the sea. They destroy everything in their path. I remember rebuilding the town at least twice after them. First, it’s the stillest calm you’ll ever see. There isn’t anything blowing, nothing moving. The animals get spooked and that’s really your first indication. And then the wind and the rain come. It pushes the water from the ocean into the land and floods everything. We only survived the one, when I was a child, by clinging to trees.”
“Are they magical?” Duncan asked, unable to imagine a destructive force so strong that hadn’t been created by magic.
“No,” NAME told them. “They are as old as the earth, a natural occurrence. The satellite, when he’s not babbling on about wanting to play dominoes, says that we will see this rain for the rest of the week. I’ve also managed to download some of his visual scans of North America. He has a thousand years’ worth, but I’ve taken only from the last two years.”
“He can see the whole continent?” Jessica asked, impressed.
“Yes.”
“And how does it look?” Duncan added.
NAME paused as if the machine were hesitant to answer. “It’s in ruins. The Creeping Death has spread almost everywhere. It is accelerating and WW 2342 estimates it will overcome the city of Shreveport within a month.”
“A month? That’s it,” Jessica said. “I…I thought we had more time.”
Duncan had thought the same thing, despite seeing firsthand how quickly the Creeping Death moved and hearing the warning from Gregory, the Centaur. It just didn’t seem right that the plague would overtake the vibrant city of Shreveport in a month. Something had to be done, and done quickly.
“It doesn’t change anything. We find Jim and we help him put a stop to all this,” Duncan said, dismissing it. There wasn’t any point in going on about it. They knew what they had to do, as daunting as the task seemed.
The rain increased and they pushed on, struggling to keep NAME moving. His cart was built for a wide variety of off-road situations, but as the rain poured harder, the mud just got slicker and thicker. The sky was a grayish color and little sun reached through. NAME told them he was using an excess of his power reserves.
“What does that mean?” Jessica asked.
“He can’t go on much further. Soon we’ll have to push him without any help from his wheels.”
“We won’t be able to,” Jessica said, eyeing the MULE that NAME was mounted on and its overabundance of supplies. It was just too heavy for them to push without help from the cart’s own motors.
“No, not for long.” Duncan looked around for something to help, maybe some sort of shelter where they could wait out the rain, but there was only miles and miles of Creeping Death. The black mud covered the ground as far as he could see.
“Over there,” Jessica said, pointing to a low hill. “Maybe we can build a shelter there, up against the hill.”
Duncan nodded in agreement if for no other reason than they didn’t have much choice. NAME agreed and they trudged through the mud towards the hill. The rain came in stinging waves, burning at their exposed skin. He tied a scarf around his face, trying to keep the mist out of his mouth. It was a mix of ash and moisture, and it stung at his nose and throat. He knew this was what the world was coming to, what their future held. Either they lived here, in the Creeping Death, or they fled underground, and he knew, without a doubt, that human kind couldn’t live like this for long.
The hill was steep enough that once they pushed NAME up against it, they were able to drape their tent over him and huddle inside, between the hill and the machine. There wasn’t any point in trying to put the tent up—the fierce wind would just push it over. Nor did Duncan try to start any sort of fire under the haphazard shelter. Sir Dog crawled into Jessica’s lap, shaking off the rain and mud. He whimpered as the sun began to set, and the rain chilled the air. NAME went into hibernation mode as soon as the tent covered them, conserving what was left in his power banks after the daylong struggle through the mud.
They ate from the small stock of ancient wonder meals, the little packages that read Meals Ready to Eat. Duncan had spicy chicken and Jessica a breakfast meal. Sir Dog ate from each of their meals, never leaving Jessica’s lap. When he’d finally had his fill, he cuddled up and was promptly asleep. The rain beat down on the tarp like bolts falling off scaffolding and it was hard for Jessica and Duncan to speak. Instead, they watched out of the flap of the tent as the rain turned the area of former forest into a sea of black mud.
He slept only fitfully, gripped by nightmares of people in the Void. Once, while awake, a flash of lighting lit the hellish landscape and he saw them.
The Golems were, once again, circling their camp.