by Grant Price
‘They’ll be way out ahead by now.’
‘We can catch up.’
Victor shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, his voice level. ‘One of us out there alone ain’t gonna draw much attention. Two or three will. We’ve gotta stay with the rigs and be ready to move. That’s how it is. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies.’
Before he could jump down again, Cassady’s hand shot out and grabbed Victor around the throat.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ gasped the boy.
Dirty nails dug into his skin.
‘Let him go, Cass,’ shouted Ghazi.
White noise in Cassady’s ears drowned out the words. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip. Orbs of energy exploded at the edges of his vision and the boy melted away into rivers of colour. The world no longer existed.
A hand crashed into the side of his face. He let go. Everything swung back into focus: the city, the wrecks, the hot dead road surrounding the vehicle. Victor dropped down from the cab and doubled over.
Ghazi drew his hand back. ‘Get control,’ he said. ‘Right now.’
Cassady tried to slow his breathing. He leaned his head out the window and looked for the boy. ‘I’m sorry.’
Victor raised his middle finger, confusion and disgust naked on his face, and stalked back to the pillbox.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Ghazi.
‘I don’t know. I saw red.’
‘Listen to me.’
He looked into Ghazi’s liquid eyes.
‘Victor’s right. You can’t save them. Any of them. They’re not yours to save. Your job is to get the cargo to the destination. Nothing more. Get a grip of yourself now or we aren’t going to make it.’
Cassady stared straight ahead, struggling to find a way back to reality.
‘You hear me?’
‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it. Start her up.’
Out ahead, the Silkworm pulled away, and he put Warspite into gear and followed. His skin burned. He half-expected to see the pillbox make a U-turn and blaze past them, and it would be his fault if it did. Some leader he was proving to be, lashing out because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, afraid of his shadow and terrified the others would find out. Kaja and Ghazi were both right. He needed to get his head straight, fast, or it would be over.
To calm himself, he checked and rechecked the meters and dials quivering behind the steering wheel. The battery bar was still green. Providing they made it through the tripwires in one piece, they would have more than enough juice to gun it away from the area. Not much of a silver lining, but it was all they had. When next he swallowed, he almost gagged on the taste of copper. Evidently, there were high levels of chemical residue around the city. He took a sip of water from the bota bag above him, swilled it around his gums and spat out of the window. Ghazi did the same. They wound up the glass and tried not to think of Katarina breathing in the tainted air.
Their view of the highway was limited to the back end of the Silkworm. The rusted vehicle bodies made it impossible to pull out and look further down the road. Cassady stopped the truck when Victor stopped and kicked her into gear again when the pillbox jerked forward. His eyes darted to the clock every few minutes. They were burning through time like it was gasoline. He gauged the distance to the buildings.
‘We’re in range.’
‘I know.’
Ghazi unclipped the binoculars from above his head and scanned the facades as Warspite crawled along at walking pace. Most of the buildings were too damaged to be inhabitable, but some were still intact. Cassady muttered curses as Victor stopped yet again. Maybe taking the highway had been a bad idea after all. Almost on cue, Ghazi’s voice rang out and he went numb behind the wheel.
‘Turret, 11 o’clock. Building with the jury-rigged balcony and the hole in the centre. Approximately four floors down from the top. You see it?’
Cassady ducked over the wheel, pushed back the peak of his cap and searched for the threat. His gaze rested on an outcrop of wooden boards that didn’t belong to the concrete exterior. The snout of a heavy-calibre gun, large enough to put all four vehicles in the convoy out of commission, protruded from the balcony.
‘I see it.’
He shifted his attention back to the road and counted the seconds while Ghazi surveyed the building.
‘Looks like it’s rusted to the spot. No movement behind the windows or in the doorway.’
Cassady unclenched his jaw. ‘Keep an eye on it.’
They rolled over a section of road spider-webbed with cracks. A glint of metal drew Cassady’s eye. An ammunition box sat on the hood of a car, its lid propped open and a slack length of wire emerging from its guts. Katarina’s work. The box was probably filled with stubs of scrap metal and other shrapnel that would shred tyres and tear a few holes in the driver.
‘Reminds me of the Berlin run,’ he muttered.
‘At least we’re only dealing with tripwires.’
‘I hope so.’
It had been the worst run he’d ever been part of. A settlement on the outskirts of the old capital had been under siege and in need of supplies. Cassady and Ghazi had volunteered to join the convoy of eleven rigs on its way there because they knew the leader, a good woman who had helped them out in the past. They’d driven night and day to reach the settlement, but by the time they’d reached Berlin the inhabitants had already been massacred. In their place were tripwires, pressure mats, spring-loaded bombs and landmines designed to turn vehicles into scrap. The first explosions had destroyed three trucks outright. An attack had come soon after. Only two out of the eleven trucks had managed to escape, and both had been severely wounded. Warspite had limped to safety on two flat tyres and the windshield, along with Cassady’s nerves, had been smashed to bits.
Somewhere ahead, Katarina crept forward through the debris field, scouring the area for gossamer tripwires and booby traps. And all the while, the pantechs growled and snorted and pawed at the ground as the sun turned the world to liquid.
Stop. Start. The clock hands gradually toppled over. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour. The trucks dipped in and out of ruts and crushed rocks and flora under their tyres. The shadows on the asphalt became grotesque as the sun drifted towards the horizon, and the drivers reached for tinted goggles whose suction caps bit into their skin and filled their noses with the scent of rubber. The metallic tang entered the cabs even with the windows rolled up, and so the occupants swilled out their mouths and spat water onto the floor. The heat sat heavy on their skin.
Life in the city had been extinguished. Warspite passed building after building that showed no movement. The debris field thinned out, the mountains of rubble that blocked the lanes became hills, and the distance from one charred wreck to the next increased. The space on the road gradually became wide enough for two vehicles to drive side by side. Frankfurt fell away. A final copse of creaking high rises was all that remained, and then the convoy would be safe.
Ghazi twisted in the co-seat. ‘Movement.’
‘Where?’ said Cassady, his chest suddenly tight.
‘Fourth building. Blue paint near the top, hole on the right-hand side by the corner. There’s a person standing in the middle of it.’
He followed Ghazi’s instructions, running his eyes over the high-rises.
‘Are you sure? They look too unstable.’
‘Fourth building,’ he insisted. ‘Near the roof. It’s a man.’ A pause. ‘At least it was once.’
Cassady kept the rig on an even course, his gaze occasionally flicking to the building with the blue paint. The goggles made it more difficult for him to see. Ghazi rarely made mistakes, but he hoped he was wrong all the same. He increased their speed.
‘Now two. Both males. Maybe others inside.’
Ahead, the Silkworm rumbled on at the same pace. Cassady held his breath, sensitive to everything.
‘They’ve seen us.’ He paused. ‘They’re tracking us with
a telescope.’
Without waiting for more information, Cassady guided the rig out into the lane beside them and jumped on the accelerator. They drew up alongside the Silkworm. In the cab, Tagawa had a pair of binoculars trained on the structures. Victor and Ghazi wound down their windows.
‘Blue building,’ shouted Ghazi.
‘We see it.’
Tagawa barked a warning. ‘They’re armed’.
Ghazi brought the binoculars up again. ‘It’s a rifle. Scoped.’
Cassady clenched his teeth and Warspite pulled away. They had to get to Kaja. They would target her first. The needle ate through the numbers on the meter, but it felt as though they were churning through a waist-high river.
‘Come on,’ he barked, throwing the rig from one side of the road to the other to avoid the rubble and metal. ‘Faster.’
The huge back end of Telamonian slid into view.
‘They’re judging the distance.’
Cassady’s hand hovered over the horn. If he used it, it would warn Kaja, but it would also draw the attention of anybody else in the vicinity. He hesitated. It went against every instinct.
‘Where are they aiming?’ He wanted it to be at them.
Ghazi tried to steady the binoculars while the vehicle bounced up and down. ‘Hard to tell.’ They drew closer to the monster, which leaned to the left as Brandt finally noticed them in the side mirror. ‘But not us.’
Warspite streaked past Telamonian. There was no time for an explanation. Now Cassady could see the blood-red beetle scuttling along the asphalt. Beyond it, a human silhouette stood out against the dying sun.
‘Go, go, go,’ yelled Ghazi. The pedal was on the floor. Cassady fought with the wheel. Turn around, he thought. Get back to the rig. Find cover. Anything. He willed Hearst to notice the shooter in the building. But her attention would be on the road and the woman who meant so much to her.
‘They’re sighting.’
He punched the horn with the flat of his hand. The sound travelled up through the belly of the Old Lady. He hit it again. It was an ugly noise, a last resort only, and now it was drawing attention to them all. The rig scudded along the road and ticked and blared and groaned. Orion picked up speed. The silhouetted form turned its head in the direction of the noise.
The first shot was almost swallowed up by the wind shrieking through the windows. But they both heard it. Cassady’s only reaction was to grip the steering wheel tighter. Ice water dripped through his ribcage into his stomach. The second shot came as they flew past Orion. He swung in front of Hearst. Katarina was on her knees, hair unbound and spilling out around her. As Warspite strained to reach the spot, she managed to roll herself over until she lay protected by a chunk of highway barrier. Confused hands sought a hole in her shoulder that pumped out a thick hot stream of red.
The Old Lady screeched and the tyres left a scar on the road. Cassady ripped off his goggles and his cap, threw open the door and rode the shockwave as his feet connected with the brittle floor. The rifle sang again, and a bullet chimed against Warspite’s hood. Katarina reached out with a bloody hand and he grabbed at it and dragged her towards the rig. Ghazi appeared beside him and shouted at him to keep his head down. Together they lifted her and carried her around the back. Orion pulled in, shielding the tailgate from view. A fourth bullet tore into Warspite’s tarpaulin roof and exited out the side. Cassady’s breath emerged in ragged gasps. His hands were warm and wet and he looked down at Katarina. Her eyes, so clear and focused, drilled into him. She said something he couldn’t hear. Ghazi released the tailgate, threw himself onto the cargo bed and reached out for her. Cassady lifted until she was taken from his arms.
He raced back to the cab where the door still hung open, doing his best to ignore the blood soaking into the road and the metallic taste that caught in the back of his throat. Telamonian drew close and he raised his hand to wave them on, on, away from the danger. Somewhere at the back of his mind he registered there had been no further shots, which meant the figures in the tower had either run out of bullets or were saving their ammunition. Other hostiles could be on the way. The Silkworm with its patched-up front swept past like a rabid dog, the threat of the tripwires forgotten.
Cassady hauled himself into the driver’s seat. In the back, Ghazi tore up pieces of cloth to press against Katarina’s wound. Orion sat in the road, waiting for him to get going. He slowed his breathing, checked he was in gear and pulled away. If the bullet had hit anything important underneath the hood, the trip would be a short one.
‘How are we doing?’ he called behind him. No answer. Ghazi’s movements were those of a caged animal as he moved back and forth over the bed. Katarina moaned. He glanced at his hand resting on the wheel. The creases had been poisoned brown. A long strand of white hair was caught under the leather strap around his wrist and he clawed at it until it fell to the floor. His whole body itched. He retrieved his cap from the passenger seat and jammed it onto his head. Despite his efforts to keep the Old Lady steady, she shook on her chassis. Other than Orion, no vehicles were yet visible in the mirrors. He could only guess how Hearst was feeling.
The copse of buildings melted away, replaced by an open expanse of brown and yellow land on which nothing grew. The road was open and clear. They hadn’t triggered any explosions. The Runners fled into the approaching dusk while one of them slowly bled out on a cold, uncomfortable cargo bed.
8
It was Tagawa, alert to everything around him, who spotted the entrance to the train tunnel. Disappearing into the side of a mountain, the narrow mouth was obstructed by a lattice of branches and vines. He, Cassady and Brandt attacked the undergrowth with machetes while Victor stood guard. Moonlight gilded the surface of the blades as they rose and fell.
Katarina lay on Warspite’s cargo bed, skin pallid, head propped up on a duffel bag, eyes following the movement of a snaplight hanging from the roof. Hearst watched without expression as Ghazi and Wyler tried to stop the blood trickling out of the hole in the top of her partner’s chest. A hill of soaking rags lay next to the crates of medication bound for La Talpa. Wyler pressed three fingers against Katarina’s arm, searching for an artery, and took her in a firm grip. Ghazi ignored the fear in his chest and continued to murmur in Katarina’s ear to keep her alert and calm as he held her left arm high by the wrist and pushed down on the wound.
The flow of blood slowed. Wyler told Ghazi to switch places with him, then unclipped a nylon strap hanging from one of the roof ribs and fastened it around the top of Katarina’s left arm. He turned her head from one side to the other, searching for signs that one of her lungs had collapsed, but her breathing was normal and the veins on her neck were barely visible. He took a piece of foam, placed it on the wound and secured it with a bandage. Finally, he sat back and wiped his hands on his trousers, his eyes on the old woman lying before him. Ghazi pretended not to see the resignation there.
‘What about removing the bullet?’ he murmured.
Wyler shook his head. ‘We won’t find it. And it might be plugging a vessel for all we know.’
‘What do we do?’
‘Can we use any of the medical supplies in the crates?’
‘They’re useless to us. They’re for preparing a serum, not for patching up wounds.’
The snaplight swung back and forth, spilling crimson everywhere. Katarina whimpered. Wyler placed a palm on her forehead.
‘Quiet now, sister.’ He turned to Ghazi. ‘Then I’d say we make her comfortable.’
‘Isn’t there anything else?’ asked Ghazi, knowing the answer already.
‘No. I ain’t a doctor. None of you are either. And we won’t make it to a settlement in time.’
Hearst sprang to her feet and squeezed between the seats into the cab. She quickly reappeared with a threadbare map and held it up to the light. When she found what she was looking for, she headed to the rear of the truck. As her heavy black boot hit the tailgate, Ghazi called out.
‘It’s t
oo far.’
She paused, raw hands gripping the top of the gate. The twilight dipped her outline in silver. She looked across to the blood-red truck that might just have enough juice to take her and Katarina to a miserable camp somewhere out in the desolation. Ghazi wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d gone for it. He would have done the same for Cassady.
‘It’s too far,’ he said again. ‘And too dangerous.’
Hearst made to jump.
‘Where are you running off to?’ Katarina’s voice was paper-thin.
Slowly, Hearst lowered her foot to the bed, crept over to the makeshift cot and dropped to her knees. Her fingers brushed the other woman’s cheek.
‘Don’t leave, min dotter.’
‘Town hundred kilometres from here. We can make it.’
‘No.’
‘Not done yet.’
‘Yes we are. I am ready.’
‘I can save you.’ Hearst pressed her forehead to Katarina’s and held a white hand between hers.
Ghazi’s eyes sought the tarpaulin. His chest burned. He was an intruder. Outside, one of the trucks was still switched on, its engine sighing over and over.
‘I am saved.’ The words were barely audible. ‘Now you need to finish what you’ve started here.’ The tips of her hair were clotted with blood.
Hearst didn’t move. Her forehead remained glued to Katarina’s, as though in an attempt to transfer her vitality to the fading body.
Boots thudded on mud and Brandt’s glistening face appeared by the tailgate. He glanced at the two women. ‘Entrance is clear. Tunnel’s empty. We should get inside. We’ll cover the entrance again once we’re out of sight.’
‘I hear you,’ said Wyler. He placed a hand on Hearst’s shoulder. ‘I’ll drive your ride into the tunnel. You stay here with her.’ Ghazi expected her to shake him off, but she nodded. The wild man lifted himself out the truck with a grace that belied his bulk. In the night air he stretched, huge arms reaching to the sky, before heading for Orion.
Ghazi squeezed Katarina’s hand once before pushing his way between the seats into the cab. Beyond the windshield, Cassady used his machete to direct the Silkworm into the tunnel. Warspite was last in line. Ghazi concentrated on the sound of his own breathing until he could hear nothing else. But he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the horror of the afternoon on a loop. He saw the well-maintained rifle resting on the sandbag and the blunt scope keeping the target in sight. He saw the long clumps of hair, the pitted yellow skin, the tattered clothing, the feverish, ravenous gestures of the hunter and the spotter. He saw the frustration when the first round fell short. The elation as the second bullet thumped clear of the barrel and whistled home. The fragments of tooth visible through a hole in the hunter’s face and the ecstatic screams of the spotter. Their cold composure before the third shot. And then all he could see was the woman lying on the ground with her arms outstretched.