Never Fear Page 28

  It was time to get moving. Exploration was the name of the game now. The final goal? Get back heading east on a route we knew. Exploration was a very dangerous thing in a wasteland already filled with danger.

  ***

  We waited for only a few moments to listen to the scouting intel. Ahead about thirty minutes was a city, one that was most certainly not empty. Lily described a large amount of movement, as well as signs of life, smoke, noise, light, etc. The main question was whether this city was more friend than foe. Could be an uncharted free-town, at least for our caravan, but also could have been a Mek Boys’ hub. Which was a distinct possibility and would have explained the Mek Boys in the middle of nowhere ambushing us. Hell, it could even be a whole tribe of Savages. Normally Savages roamed the Wilds, as they were a nomadic tribe. But from time to time they entered cities to scavenge for supplies or to take them from the poor people that lived there.

  But not all was bad news. A little luck seemed to be with us. The road we were on not only ran through the city, but peeled off to the east and west around the city. We would be able to skirt the edge of the city before heading east again, back in the right direction after only after a few hours heading north. All in all not a bad detour. We just had to avoid detection.

  Which of course didn’t happen. We had moved slowly, the roar of our engines down to a dull rumble. Right as we made the curve onto the eastbound road I spotted an approaching greeting party speeding toward us, at least twenty rigs pouring out of the city. Banging on the roof, I gained Angus’s attention. “Angus! We got company approaching from the west, fast.”

  “Damnit! Keep an eye on ’em, Jack. If any of those bastards get close, ya put a bullet into them like ya did the Mek Boys!” Angus quickly flashed a hand signal to the rig next to us. It replied with three loud blares from its horn. With that, the chase was on. We kicked our rigs into high gear, now once again fleeing for our freedom, but most likely our lives. I watched with a small pang of worry as I watched Lily fall behind, her scouts following suit behind and alongside her, dropping into formation as they fell behind to guard our rear.

  This chase lasted for hours. The sun began to sink behind the looming horizon. But strangely enough, our pursuers never seemed to take the offensive. They would speed up, only to slow down as our scouts spun around and fired upon them. If they had been wishing to waste our ammo, they should have done it more often or sent up more heavily armored rigs that could take the hits. But every time we launched an offensive they withdrew, keeping a good distance most of the time. Even with the magner I couldn’t tell what their plan was. I hoped we weren’t being led to another trap like the one before. But our salvation came from a new and unexpected source.

  The barren land we drove on, like before, was barren for miles upon miles. Small, scattered wrecked structures and rusted rig frames littered the side of the road. But beyond that, nothing, until suddenly on the horizon I beheld a flash of gold. The barren wasteland transformed from a sea of brown to a sea of yellow as we approached an endless field of strange, long, stalky plants. Row after row of them, as far as the eye could see. And in the middle was the long, and now small-looking, road. We passed through the plants, and I found they were indeed tall. Each stalk by my guess was at least seven to eight feet high. But this strange barrier seemed to drive off our pursuers, as they drew to a halt before entering the field of golden-yellow plants.

  We drove for another hour, but night had fallen, and with the overcast we needed to stop. Those rigs that had working lights dared not use them except in emergencies. Since we no longer assumed we were being followed, we began to park, each rig knowing where he was expected to be. The road was wide enough for two cars to drive side by side, with the two-wheelers able to easily go between. We parked with two rigs on either side, their tires still barely on the old, crumbling, hole-filled road.

  Angus’s rig was parked in the front, wedged between two other rigs. The rear was taken up by the Wranglers rig, forming an area in the middle where we could be surrounded on all sides. We always attempted to form a circle-like formation. The caravaners used a term to describe this practice called “circling the wagons.” I had no idea what the hell a wagon was. But it didn’t really matter. I knew it was done for safety. Within moments of the caravan stopping, people had already begun setting up their bedrolls, tents, and various other things. Our little caravan was as busy as a hive of stiggers—stiggers being small little flying insects that made large flaky nests. And if disturbed, they swarmed out and bit the hell out of a person. Their bites were not painful, but they left terrible red welts that if one was unlucky could become infected.

  After unstrapping myself and hopping off the rig, I stretched for a minute before my curiosity got the best of me. I wandered over to inspect the strange, endless rows of this stalky yellow plant. As I drew closer, I saw they seemed to have strange pods attached to them and scattered all around their bases. Reaching out, I almost touched one of the strange pods, but my common sense, as well as the memories of what plants were capable of, quickly had me snatching my hand back to my side where it belonged. A sweet chuckle filled my ears, one that I knew well and already made my heart beat quicker.

  “Aye, my beloved, it is good for ye to be cautious. But yer okay. These be corn stalks. They are a food plant. Although…” She paused, her voice taking on a more cautious tone. “I have nay seen it in such a plentiful manner. Not harvested, just left here to grow and then rot. There be piles of it all over the ground. Who would be daft enough to allow so much food to be wasted.”

  “Who indeed, daughter, who indeed?”

  Angus had snuck up on the both of us. The whole family was super stealthy. And that was impressive for a man who was almost six and a half feet tall and built like he was part Savage. “But that be not our concern, nor a blessing for us, for the corn be well beyond eating. Gather up the fallen parts. They will burn well and will supplement our dwindling wood supplies.” He clasped an arm around both me and Lily, dragging us into a vise-like hug. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his daughter’s head. “I’m glad yer safe, my sweet lil firefly.” Firefly, a very personal term of endearment. “Yah did me and our family proud today.”

  “Da!” Lily cried out.

  I watched in amusement and slight discomfort from the tight hug as one of the toughest warriors in the caravan cheeks grew a deep red as she squirmed like a caught animal.

  Angus laughed softly before looking at me. “And don’t think I will be forgetting you, lad. Ye did a good job today. I heard from the scouts how yer shot took down two rigs.” He patted my back and leaned down toward me.

  I closed my eyes, my body growing tense. Oh Lord, please don’t kiss me.

  Thankfully no kiss came, only a whisper that turned into a knowing chuckle. “Yah get a little hot under the collar when people be firing up my lil firefly. But that’s good, means yer gonna protect her even if she be able to handle it herself.” His voice took on a more solemn tone. “Ye always have to look out for yer wife. Even if yah think she can handle it, ye need to always be there, always.”

  I looked up, but Angus was already turning away, his vise-like bear hug gone as she stalked back to the caravan. “He is talking about your mo—”

  Lily raised her hand, stalling the end of my sentence. “Nay, Jack, ye know I won’t be talking about her… not yet.” She raised her head, those beautiful green eyes shimmering softly with barely withheld tears, a soft smile given. Turning, she bent down and scooped up a large pile of the old corn before carrying it back to the center of the caravan.

  I spoke softly as she walked away, her large patchwork cloak swaying behind her. “Okay, baby, but one day I will need to know what happened to your mother.” I knew she didn’t hear me, but that was okay.

  I turned to gather up my own supply of old corn lying on the ground, but froze as a wind brought soft whispers to my ears. Whispers from within the corn. I blinked and looked up. “Hello?”

 
I heard rustling, and my body tensed for a moment, every hair on my body suddenly standing straight up and a cold chill ran down my spine, but I quickly attempted to shake it off. “Just the wind brushing these plants together… just the wind.” I hurried back, eager to be within the center of the circle where the flicker of firelight was already growing.

  I sat now, finally able to relax. The sound of merriment filled our small caravan as we sat together, ate together, and celebrated another day ending with one another. There were many reasons we had to be merry, although our meal tonight was spare, more dried fruit with some dried meat. The company made it a feast as my beloved sat next to me, her slender but firm frame nestled into me, her infectious laughter filling the surrounding area.

  But despite the warmth of my love at my side, something gnawed at me. The fire was blazing now, the corn burning well, but the light… it didn’t reach as far as it should. Shouldn’t it illuminate more? As I look around, everyone’s faces seemed hidden by shadows, all but the beauty right next to me. Her pale, freckled beauty almost always shined. But everyone else… shouldn’t I be able to see their faces more clearly? All I had had to drink was water, no alcohol. That was when I realized the fire didn’t feel very warm at all. My brows furrowed as I shivered and pressed closer to Lily. She, as always, felt warm. And with her warmth I finally managed to drift off to sleep.

  ***

  My dreams were dark that night: eyes in the corn, eyes that never blinked; whispers that I heard but didn’t understand, spoken in a tongue I hoped I never did comprehend.

  I awoke with those whispers fading in my mind, now only half remembered echoes. The sun had risen, and I lay curled up next to Lily, a blanket over us, as we lay in the open by the now dead fire. I was not the first to awaken. Zena, Julius’s wife, was up along with their daughter. Julius had been propped up and they were changing his bandages.

  I called out softly, “How’s he doing, Zena?”

  She turned, and a smile stretched too thinly upon her slender face. “Not well, Jack. The bleeding has stopped… but he has a fever now. We have a little elderflower, so I’ve made him some tea to help. But we don’t have much more in stock. I hope we can find some, or something else once we get out of these…” Zena paused, looking around slowly, as if seeking something. “…creepy fields. They make me uneasy for some reason.”

  “I know what you mean, Zena.” Slipping from my lover’s warm embrace, I snuck to relieve myself behind one of the rigs before starting to pack things up. I wanted to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. My uneasiness had grown with Zena’s acknowledgment that this place was indeed creepy.

  It was only a matter of minutes before others arose and their movements awoke others, and within fifteen minutes the camp was busy once more. In thirty minutes, we were heading down the road, the movement comforting me. I opted to sit on the top of the rig this time. Sentries were not needed, but the fresh air and sun brought back glimpses of Vegas, sitting by the window, the warm sun and a steady breeze kissing my skin. I had few fond memories of Vegas, but that was one of them.

  So lost was I within my own memories of the past that I didn’t realize we had stopped till squealing brakes and a hard jerking stop shook me from my reverie. I looked around quickly, my heart skipping a beat, assuming something was wrong. But I quickly determined the cause for our stop. A motionless rig sat on the left side of the road some hundred yards ahead. It was a small rig. A small amount of paint left on its rusty frame showed that it had once been a bluish tint. But beyond the color, and the fact it still seemed to have some bags strapped to it, it seemed abandoned.

  “All right, lads, we have come across this before. Be on the lookout for ambushers,” Angus cried as he stepped out of the rig below me.

  Our scouts, who had been in the lead, dismounted from their bike rigs. Lily, who was normally always in the lead, stayed behind as she motioned with a few jerks of her hands for her fellow scouts to move ahead. As they stalked closer, they all withdrew a small pistol, along with various types of one-handed close-combat objects from small scrap blades to actual blades, and even a spiked club.

  Lily was busy retrieving her preferred method of combat when off the bike—her bow. I had seen her skill with it the first time we met in Vegas. She had placed an arrow straight through a rad coyote’s glowing green eye, while she was flipping through the air. She was a deadeye with her bow, and as she nocked an arrow, she began to stalk forward.

  A fleeting thought to bring my own rifle to bear crossed my mind. But unless something happened, I did not want to risk shooting through my new family. Only Lily with her bow had the accuracy not to be inconvenienced or worried by people between her and whatever her target was.

  “Movement!” one of the scouts cried out, and as one the whole group dropped to one knee and raised their pistols. Even before that happened, Lily’s bow was drawn and aimed at the bug.

  “Whoever ye be, show yerself. No violence will be given if none is shown.” Lily’s confident voice was the one to call out. We waited, many gazing out among the corn, waiting for the sudden rush of ambushers.

  The door of the rig creaked open, and instead of being greeted by an ambush, we were met by a pair of grimy oil-stained hands. “P-p-please d-don’t fire.”

  The stuttering voice somehow matched the gangly figure that crawled forth from within the rig. He was a spindly man wearing worn, tattered, dirty blue-jean overalls, his chest exposed as well as his clearly showing ribs. He looked like he was half-starved to death. A ratty brown beard and mostly bald head accentuated his almost crazed features. He got to his knees, head lowered, arms raised, but even from a distance they could be seen shaking, almost struggling to remain upright.

  “D-do you have any f-food? Or w-water.” His raised arms lowered slightly, grasping one another in a desperate plea. “Please.”

  The scouts, glanced back at Lily, and Lily glanced back at Angus. I watched Angus think for a moment, but I knew him, and I knew the rules of our people… well, my adopted people. No violence had been given, no disrespect shown, no sense of an ambush, only a desperate man who was starving and thirsty. Angus finally nodded, and with that simple motion, guns and bows were lowered and people were already exiting their rigs. I guess it was time for an early lunch.

  Zeek, as we soon found out was the man’s name, sat around us and had almost been silent for the past fifteen minutes, well beyond his slurping and gulping as he drank and scarfed down all we offered him. Finally, after a loud belch, he slumped back against one of our rigs. He gazed up, those eyes brighter looking as he was finally refreshed.

  “Yah all a group of Trekers?”

  Trekers, as I had found out, was the name other people had given to us and those like us who braved the wilds of this ravaged land to bring knowledge, trade, and the almost lost art of hospitality to the various groups of survivors we encountered. They had a very strong sense of honor. Being hospitable was important to them. A Treker would rather starve and go thirsty than breach the code of hospitality. Of course, the same courtesy was expected in return from those welcomed into our camps.

  Our camp had once taken in a young boy. He had claimed he was abandoned and starving. The real truth was his family sent him in to steal supplies. He would drop them off on the edge of the camp during the night so his family could pick them up. He was caught one night after suspicion rose. Angus personally broke one of his hands, and I mean smashed it up bad, as well as one of his feet, and left him there for his family to find. He had broken their code of hospitality and had incurred my family’s wrath. I prayed this man had no such ill intentions in mind.

  “Aye.” Angus nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m Angus, head of our family. I officially welcome ye to our caravan.”

  “Never seen your caravan in town before… in fact how was it you are here? My people in Lankers would have never let someone go east through the corn fields.” Zeek slowly put down his bowl, looking now with a strange intensity in his
eyes toward Angus.

  Angus rubbed the back of his head, riling up his own curly red locks that he had gifted to his daughter. “Ah, well about that, lad. We be on the run from some Mek Boys earlier in the day. We were traveling our known routes to the south, and the damned fools tried to ambush us. They blockaded the road east. Thankfully me daughter and her scouts discovered the trap. We were able to bypass it, but that took us north toward yer city of… Lankers?”

  Zeek nodded.

  “Well, we didn’t be knowing if your people would be welcoming, or if the town be filled with Savages. So, we skirted the outskirts, attempting to get back eastward. When rigs emerged from yer city, we feared the worst and fled.” Angus wiped his brow now, which had broken out with beads of sweat, something that happened when he realized he had, in hindsight, made a bad decision.

  “They weren’t coming out to get yah; they were coming out to warn yah.” Zeek’s confirmation of what we all had been starting to think brought out a cluster of groans and profanities among the group.

  “Aye, I be seeing that now. Something seemed off to me when they didn’t fire at us. Their quick retreats upon being fired upon were also baffling.” Angus’s voice was strained as he wrung his hands together.

  I knew in Angus’s mind he had wronged those people, and even though it was unknowing, had been rude toward those who had only wished to help him and the caravan, which he was responsible for. But his self-imposed guilt was stifled, as Angus was not a dull person.

  “Why would they be wanting to stop us from going this way? What is past these fields that warrants such caution?”

  “It’s not what lies past the fields. It is Those that dwell within that are the problem.” Zeek’s voice had become a chilled whisper upon uttering the strange term, or name.