Never Fear Page 27

  Whoever had blown up the lab and murdered Amy was after her.

  ***

  Three hours later, Kallie drove a stolen coupe into the Hidden Springs Campsite, where she pulled off the broken asphalt lot, drove over an eroded curb, and followed a rocky path deep into the trees. Later, she might come back and use branches to further hide the car from the campsite. For now, she just needed the dense pines to conceal the vehicle from roaming helicopters.

  She had no delusions. Kallie knew her life, as she had always known it, was over. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t endanger her friends. And she’d never become a full-fledged physician. But none of that mattered anymore.

  She grabbed the box of level-four restricted syringes she had pilfered from the hospital storage room and stepped out of the car. She’d never save another hospital patient, but maybe, she could help Jacob save the world.

  WHAT LIES WITHIN

  Ed DeAngelis

  Life in a caravan is a life full of freedom. But a life also filled with danger. Lots of danger. I mean I can’t emphasize enough the amount of danger. This is the world I was born into, a ravaged world, brought to the brink of destruction by our forefathers. From the green fire and terrible chemicals, a new world emerged, deadlier, harsher. But humanity survived, its people splintered, some of them even altered from generations after generations exposed to radiation and strange chemicals.

  The first chapter of my life had been spent in the deserts of the West, in a ruined city called Vegas. It was a life of solitude, my own family having died early, leaving me to fend for myself among the ruined wasteland that was Vegas. That all changed the day I encountered a tiny but fierce redhead, my love, my life, Lily. Of course when I first saw her, she had been just a cloaked figure sprinting toward the ruined building I called home. Its true name, given to it by the old generations, was the Excelsior. She was being chased by a pack of rad coyotes. The ensuing encounter, followed soon by a hasty escape from my previous home, I prefer not to dwell upon. For that is my past, and now Lily and her family, the caravan, is my life. And right now, that life is me desperately trying to remain on top of our caravan’s ten motor rigs as we attempt to outrun a gang of Mek Boys who have just come roaring out of the thick woods on their own custom motor rigs.

  “How the hell did I get here?” I cursed out loud to myself, although my voice was swallowed by the roar of the rig’s engine I was currently atop, strapped onto the roof with some rope, leather straps, and a prayer. Sitting, and I use that word loosely, upon a padded cushion, which did little to comfort my now bruised ass as it was slammed down over and over onto the metal roof each time we ran over a bump. Which I was pretty convinced that was all this road was made up of: holes and bumps. Yanking my trusty rifle up, which is the only heirloom I had left from my long-deceased parents, I focused on trying to draw an unobstructed line on one of the quickly gaining Mek Boy rigs. Being a caravan, our rigs were burdened down with all kinds of scrap, supplies, and other things that we had picked up along our travels. So speed was not something we excelled at.

  Mek Boys on the other hand… their rigs were their life. Rigs and raiding, these two R’s embodied the lifestyle these people tribed by, although Mek Boys normally lived in, or closer to, cities—more sources of scrap and parts to upgrade, repair, or even create, new rigs. Normally they didn’t just appear out of the woods. But that thought was for another time.

  I finally managed to draw an unobstructed bead on one of the leading rigs’ driver, a crazy bastard with long, spiked hair and a pair of old goggles, his face covered in a plethora of strange red markings—some kind of tribal or superstitious marking. It was a wildly known fact that Mek Boys thought red coloring made things go faster. But regardless of what it meant, it was time to end him. I breathed deeply, focusing on his chest, the largest target, pulled the trigger… right as we hit another bump and my rifle jerked.

  “Shit!” I swore as my shot went wild. I quickly sighted the driver again. This time my attention was drawn away from my target by the deafening roar of newly arrived engines, shapes suddenly blurring past as well as in-between our own racing rigs. The leading blur trailed behind it a length of fiery red, like a red, avenging comet. Lily, my beloved, had arrived, and with her came her units of scouts riding their two-wheelers. My beloved and her hand-chosen scouts were not much for running, unless it was running at anyone or anything that threatened the caravan and their loved ones.

  A swell of pity momentarily rose within me for the Mek Boys, but that quickly transitioned into anger upon seeing sparks shooting off the armored front of the two-wheelers as the metal front plates absorbed and deflected the incoming fire. Anger was quickly replaced by a thunderous rolling swell of rage when I beheld sparks shooting off Lily’s two-wheeler.

  I watched with barely contained rage as Lily swerved to move out of the firing arc of the Mek Boy who had stood up on the passenger’s side of the oncoming rig to gain a better line of sight on her.

  My rifle snapped up, and the bouncing and jumbling below me seemed almost forgotten as I zoomed in, my rage focused. I sighted my target, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. The bulging eyes, the frantic stumbling upon the face of the once firing Mek Boy confirmed that my aim had been true. The driver lay slumped, a hole blasted in the middle of his helmet, blood and gray matter already oozing out. The rig went haywire, wheels spun wildly, jerking the speeding coffin-on-wheels sharply to the left. Which brought the out-of-control rig right into the path of another approaching rig. The resulting explosion was satisfying to say the least.

  “Shoot at my beloved… I don’t think so,” I spat off the rumbling rig.

  My shot, and the resulting explosion, had bought the caravan time. The sudden loss of two rigs had the Mek Boys slowing down. They had most certainly not given up the chase; they just needed to reevaluate the amount of danger the caravan posed.

  The blare of gunfire brought another Mek Boy rig to a screeching halt, smoke pouring from the engine. The scouts had brought down that one. They circled it now, pouring lead into the passengers, who leapt out of the smoking wreck.

  I glanced around, assessing our own situation as best I could from my vantage point. We had not emerged from this skirmish unscathed. Two of our rigs showed visible damage. One, a small rusty box-like rig, belonged to Julius and his family, Zena his wife, Vigo his son. The other was our heavy, water-tank rig. I didn’t remember who was currently on driving assignment for the tanker. They were both moving still, but smoke was rising from Julius’s rig, and the tanker was limping with what I assumed was a popped tire. A loud thumping suddenly brought my attention to my own vehicle. The large hand of Lily’s father, Angus, was slapping the top of our rig, he was roaring my name as well. “Jack! Jack!” Such measures were needed to garner my attention during any kind of chase, as the cacophony of sound the caravan created was overwhelming. I leaned down, tapping his hand to let him know I had noticed him.

  “What’s the situation, lad?” Angus’s burly voice roared at almost equal volume as the engine.

  I had to scream to make sure he heard me. “The Meks are backing down! Three of their rigs down! Julius’s rig and water tank are both damaged, but they’re keeping pace for now!”

  Angus’s response was drowned out with the addition of another engine. Lily’s bike sped up next to ours. She looked up at Angus through her helmet. Her one hand left the bike handles and flashed quick, and at least to me, complex signs, a special form of hand symbols and movements they had apparently made up that conveyed meanings. I had not yet learned them. But I got enough of the meaning from the explosion of profanities that roared forth from Angus.

  Bad news. Then again, in this world, once I left Las Vegas and my skeletal tower the Excelsior, I found that bad news was in fact everyday news. The world had survived the end-of-times only to find they now lived in the worst-of-times. The roar of Lily’s bike’s engine diminished as she slowed, falling behind to rejoin her scouts in guarding the flanks as well
as the two damaged rigs. I banged the top of our rig, wondering what the concern beyond marauding bloodthirsty Mek Boys could provoke such a reaction.

  Angus didn’t need to see me or know what I wanted to know. “Road up ahead is blockaded, meant to trap us. Bastards were gonna corner us. Gonna have to take an unknown route, lad. Keep your wits about you and warn me if anything looks off,” Angus called from below.

  I suddenly wished I had not asked. The caravan had mapped a good amount of the main roads across this blasted land. It was almost a sacred parchment to our kind, showing all our secret routes and the knowledge we had gained along them. But for every route we had mapped, there were a hundred more unknown to us.

  I had asked once about this and Angus’s response had been simple. “Because if ye found what ye considered a safe route, ye don’t damn stray from it.”

  We were now going to be forced to do so, or be trapped, by a whole tribe of now vengeful Mek Boys. Sighing, I lifted my one free hand to rub my temples softly. From bad to worse. All I wanted was to camp someplace where we didn’t have to be afraid. So I could snuggle up to Lily and actually attempt to enjoy my new life with her.

  The caravan began slowing, the roar of the engines diminishing only slightly. I gazed behind us and took note of the large dust cloud far behind us. Just far enough that I couldn’t see the size of the trailing Mek Boys mob but could judge it was fairly large. They were following us, thinking they were herding us to our doom. Waiting for us to fall into their trap.

  We had to keep them thinking that for as long as possible. If they knew that we knew that the road was blocked and were going to take another route, they would push the attack. This time, they would swarm us, worked into a frenzy by the death of their people, but mostly due to the destruction of their precious rigs. So, slowing down was a calculated risk, but it was one that we needed to take. The water tank rig was having to slow. I saw eventually as we slowed that indeed a tire was blown. One of the four back tires. Smoke was still drifting from Julius’s rig, but not as much now. Either way would have to eventually stop. But for now, we pushed on.

  Our new route came up faster than I expected, but to be honest I didn’t really know what to expect. It could be the same type of road we were on, which was a cracked, deteriorating, pock-marked, grayish black stone. But as long as it got us someplace safer, I wouldn’t complain. We were currently heading east, and under normal circumstances we would have remained going east till we hit the coast. I was excited for that. I had never seen an ocean until just over a year ago. To my surprise it had been only a few hours from where I lived. We now headed to what I was told was another brand-new ocean. I was excited to see it. But right now I needed to focus on the present, then an uncertain future.

  The road ahead split, forming a cross shape. There was a path going south, and north—east as well—but we knew going east was no longer a possibility. It was Angus’s call, as our rig lurched to the front of the line. And slowly he drifted toward the north exit. I knew we would eventually head north once we reached the ocean, traveling along the ocean. Now we had to take a forced detour and begin our northward travels much earlier than expected.

  The wooded area quickly gave way to a barren wasteland littered with rusted rigs and remains of old dwellings. This sort of sudden geographical change was not unknown. To go from areas of land where plant growth seemed to flourish to barren plots, where not even a blade of grass was to be seen for miles, occurred often. One moment you’re sweating under the blazing sun; drive a few miles, and you hit a dust storm that turns into a snowstorm. There were various reasons I had been told: poisons leaking into the water, strange blights that killed all plant life for miles before suddenly stopping, that even nature itself had gone mad from the damage inflicted upon the world. But whatever the truth was, nature continued to prosper, and its creations twisted by radiation and other strange chemicals were now fighting back. I long ago had heard a term used in reference to this phenomenon: Nature finds a way.

  Well… fuck nature. Rad coyotes in the desert, mangy sore-infested creatures that, although cowardly, presented a danger when traveling in a pack, Grunters in the northwest. Grunters were something I thankfully had only encountered once. They were massive, hairless creatures, who I had been told were once called bears that roamed the woods. They killed all that they encountered except other Grunters. Damn things were big enough to knock down whole trees and had claws sharp enough to rip through a rig’s door to get to the fresh meat that was the people inside. And despite their size, they moved with great stealth, only a soft grunting noise giving away their approach—and your most likely impending doom.

  The list of rad animals I had run into since leaving Vegas was growing rapidly, each one deadly and hungry for any flesh it could find. Hell, even plants were affected. The areas we had just passed through a few days past had long, hanging vines that blended in with the regular plant life. But upon touching living flesh they would coil around whatever was touching them, and bam! yank your ass straight up into the thick foliage where you would be wrapped up nice and tight till you died. But that wasn’t the end. Once you died, the vines would deposit your now rotting carcass by the roots.

  I had started keeping a detailed log in an old, empty book Lily had given me. I thought it would be useful to have all the dangerous creatures we encountered and the ways around them, or the best ways to defeat them, written down. Angus and many of the caravan had loved the idea and had gone through great lengths to give me as much detail and information about all kinds of hazards and creatures. Sharing this information with the various people in the towns we stopped in for trading or resupplying gained our caravan a decent amount of goodwill.

  Angus’s banging the rigtop once more brought my attention down to him. This time he held the caravan’s only magner. The device was wonderful. You placed both holes on your eyes and it allowed you to see really far away on the other end. This magner was broken. Some of the special glass was broken on the one side. But the other hole worked just fine.

  I was confused why he wanted me to use it. My eyesight was fantastic, but I figured out why after a quick scan of the horizon. The dust cloud kicked up by the following Mek Boy rig hoard had vanished. Snatching up the magner, I peered through the one working hole, but even with the special view, I saw things in the distance. We had only been traveling an hour or so. I banged on the hood, and when Angus leaned his head out, I informed him of this. He quickly stuck his arm out and made a few signals. The rig behind use made two loud short beeps and the caravan began to slow and within a few moments came to a halt.

  Angus hopped out, his thick red beard wild and unkempt like his daughter’s hair. “Keep yer eyes sharp, lad. If ye see them coming, start a-shouting.”

  And with that he was off, the caravan stopping as the various families and workers jumped out to re-gas and see what damage was incurred during the raid and what could be done to fix the water rig and Julius’s rig.

  I sat watch for over an hour, until Marcus, one of the other drivers, came walking past. Curious to the current goings on, I waved him down. “So what’s the status of the rigs?”

  “Water rig is shot up, but nothing major.” Marcus sighed. “Julius’s rig is leaking oil. We got it patched up for now. But we will need to replace the damaged hose pretty soon. Julius was hit, bullet went right through the rig, but also right through his shoulder. Stubborn S.O.B. kept driving the whole time. He’s lost a good amount of blood.”

  “Shit! Is he gonna be okay?” I interjected quickly.

  Marcus nodded. “I think so. Zena got him all patched up and the bleeding stopped. But he ain’t gonna be driving for a bit. The Wranglers cleared out a spot in the back of their rig. Zena is gonna drive until her husband recovers.”

  “All right. Hey, you know if we plan on camping here or pushing on?” I shifted toward Marcus, my legs swinging off the side of the rig.

  “Angus seemed to be pushing everyone to move fast. So, I assume mo
ve on.” Marcus began moving away, heading back to his own rig.

  “Hey, you seen Lily?” I called out quickly.

  Marcus turned his head back but continued walking, a small smirk appearing. “Yeah, she is doing what she does. Off with the rest of her crazy girls, seeing what lies ahead. But don’t ya worry. She will be back soon enough, and I’m sure you can sneak off to get yourself a few kisses before we head out.”

  My cheeks grew hot, as if I had been under the bright sun for hours. I merely nodded, turning around. I raised the magner up, pretending to scout the horizon, now eager to end this conversation. I had grown up alone and was unused to talks about physical affections with others. But Marcus had been correct. Me and Lily rarely got to spend any alone time together. Having alone time was a rare and precious thing when you didn’t have your own rig yet. Even more so when you belonged to such close-knit family. Eventually, when I proved my worthiness to my new family, I would get my own rig. For now, I rode in Lily’s rig. Well, to be more accurate, her father’s rig. Since she was my family, but I had no rig, I depended on the generosity of her father. Although that wasn’t really an issue. Angus was a good man. I had been told by others that he was extremely pleased that his only daughter had finally chosen a man to become one with. And that “said man,” a.k.a. me, would be joining the caravan, and thus keeping his precious Lily close to him.

  I sat there for almost an hour awaiting our departure. The caravan members used every moment of that hour to perform all kinds of minor maintenance on their rigs. The last few moments before leaving were then used to refuel ourselves. I was given a portion of dried fruit and had my water flask refilled.

  But since I was on watch, the only moment I was free to jump off the rig was to relieve myself. After that, it was back on up, strapped in, and watching the horizon to the south. The sun was growing a little lower in the sky, but we still had a few more hours of light. I spun to face the north as the sound of engines filled my ears. Lily and her scouts on their two wheelers had returned. I raised my magner to observe their movements, which would let me know if they were being pursued. But I could tell by their relaxed weaving maneuvers they were fine.