Blood Red Road (9 page)

Dusk. I’ll need to stop soon to make camp fer the night.

All of a sudden, the wind picks up. It comes outta nowhere, wailin an moanin. It plucks at the sand on the top of a nearby dune an flings it away. What was it Mercy said?

Take care crossin Sandsea. It’s one of the wild places. Listen to the winds
.

I take another step up the dune I’m climbin. I stop. Look around me. All around, the dunes is startin to shift, change shape.

Holy crap, I says. I wrap my sheema good an tight around my nose an mouth.

The wind’s growin stronger. Bolder. It tugs at me, tries to pull me over. It wants me. Sand flies in my eyes, stings ’em. My cloak whips around my legs an snaps in the wind.

Nero! I yell. Nero! Where are you! The words git torn from my lips.

Nero swoops an dives, cawin frantically. I scream over the roar of the wind. Git outta here! I flap my hands at him. Go on! I’ll be okay!

He disappears.

The world howls its rage around me. It’s too big. I’m too small. The sand unner my feet starts to slide, starts to shift—like it don’t want me on it no more.

Panic claws at my throat. My eyes is gritty. The sand’s blindin me. It’ll make me blind. Do somethin. Quick. I pull my sheema down over my eyes. Now I cain’t see a thing.

What should I do? What do I do?

Feel the way. Go down. An git buried alive? Keep goin then, keep goin! An git swept away?

What should I do? What do I do?

The sand dune collapses unner me. An that’s it. No choice.

I’m swept away.

Dark.

Hot.

Cain’t breathe. Oh gawd, I cain’t breathe.

Weight. On my chest.

I’m movin. Slidin. Cain’t stop. Cain’t stop.

Cain’t-breathe-must-breathe-must-breathe-cain’t-breathe-cain’t—

I’m out. I’m thrown outta the sand.

I fly through the air face first an thump down, land hard on the ground. I gasp. I breathe. I cough. I roll to my side an yank my sheema down. I cough an cough an take in great, deep gulps of air. I breathe it in, drink it in, I cain’t git enough.

Then I grab my waterskin, rinse my mouth, spit out the sand.

After a bit, I start to calm down. I lie there, starin up at the pink dusky sky. I cain’t believe I’m alive.

Then I realize. I’m lookin at the sky. I can see the sky. The first faint twinkle of stars. I ain’t breathin in sand no more. The wind’s gone. It must of left as quick as it came.

Slowly I stand, pull myself to my feet. I brush myself down, make sure I still got all my gear. Then I look.

I’m on a wide flat plain. The sand dunes is gone. Not a trace of ’em left. Like they was never there. Like I dreamed ’em.

An standin all around me is flyin machines.

Flyin machines. Flyers.

Hidden away. Sleepin unner the wanderin dunes of Sandsea fer who knows how long. Could of bin fer any amount of time—a day, a week, a year. Maybe even hunnerds of years. Maybe ever since they was left here by the Wreckers.

They’re all laid out in neat rows on the sand. Like somebody planted ’em, thinkin they might grow.

They stretch out, on an on across the plain. So many rows, so many flyin machines that I couldn’t even begin to count.

I walk in between ’em.

They’re all sizes. Big, small an everythin in between. They stand quiet, patient, like they’re waitin fer somethin.

They’re all rusted, with their glass windows smashed an their tires slashed an their bodies cut up to be took away by salvagers. The holes in their sides gape open like wounds.

A flyin machine graveyard.

I know about flyers. I even seen parts of ’em before.

Once Pa brought home a curved metal sheet he picked outta the landfill that he said was most likely part of a flyer. He used it to mend our roof. But the funny thing was, not two days later a big hotwind blasted through Silverlake an that sheet jest lifted up an flew away. Like it couldn’t wait to git outta there. The rest of the roof stayed put, jest that one bit went. Pa said that proved fer sure it was from a flyer.

I stand in front of one of the biggest ones. I stretch myself to my full height an go up on my toes, but I still cain’t reach it.

Nero appears in the darkenin sky above me. He lands on my head, flappin his wings.

Hey Nero. I bring him down to sit on my hand. I rub his head as I walk among the sleepin metal giants. D’you think Lugh came this way? D’you think he seen these? He’d like to see a entire one close to, that’s fer sure.

I come to a small one, more human-sized. I touch the metal with its faded paint. It feels cool. Buried in sand with no sun to warm its skin.

I put my hand on the door. If I’m respeckful, I cain’t see how it ’ud do no harm.

Be good now, I says to Nero. Don’t you go peckin at things.

The door creaks. Sand pours out as I pull it open an climb inside. I brush the seat clear, slide onto it an look out where the window used to be. I wonder what the world was like when this flyer was new made, so long ago. What it would of bin like to fly in one.

When Lugh an me was nippers, Pa told us all about how the Wreckers used to go up in the sky in their flyers. They’d soar an swoop all over the place, pretendin to be birds. Sometimes, he said, there’d be hunnerds of Wreckers all piled into one big one an they’d fly around together.

Me an Lugh thought that was the craziest thing we ever heard. We didn’t believe him. An when we asked Pa why they did it, he said he didn’t rightly know, they jest did, that’s all.
We figgered fer definite he was tellin tall tales. But now I seen one fer myself … well, I dunno. Maybe it could be true.

The night’s drawin in. There ain’t no wind at all now. Not even a whisper. I feel so weary. My eyelids is so heavy, I cain’t hardly keep ’em open. I slide down in the seat. Nero huddles on my chest an snugs hisself unner my chin. I might jest catch a little shut eye before I go on. Not fer long.

Jest a few minutes.

Jest a—

A sound.

I’m awake. Right away. Muscles tense. Ready to move.

Nero opens one eye. I hold a finger to my lips. He knows what that means.

There it is agin. Somethin movin. Outside. Then a snort. A horse. One that ain’t sure of itself, one that’s feelin a bit nervy.

I set Nero down on the floor. Then I roll outta my seat an crawl towards the back end of the flyer where there’s a part of it missin. I slip outside. I land in a crouch on the ground, scramble to hide behind the back tires.

It’s a bright clear night. The horse is gittin nearer. Its legs come into view. I cain’t see the rider from where I’m at. The
horse stops, jest in front of the flyer. I hold my breath. It snorts agin, shuffles its feet a bit. Then the rider clicks an it moves on.

A horse. Four legs, not two. Dependin on where Lugh is, where they’ve took him, I could be with him in days instead of weeks if I was travelin by horse. Looks like my lucky night. I slide Lugh’s slingshot outta my belt. Pull a good-sized stone from my pocket.

I move silent as a cat, slippin between the flyers. My knees is shakin. My hands too. I tell myself I’m with Lugh, trackin a prairie chicken.

I check there’s only one horse an rider, that they’re headed away from me. Then I step out into the open, an take aim with the slingshot.

I wanna unhorse him, not kill him. I let fly. But my hands is too shaky. I hit him in the arm. He yells out.

I gotta have that horse.

I run at him. I leap at him, pull him offa the horse. He goes without a fight. I git him in a headlock an he starts screamin in a high screechy voice an kickin at my ankles.

An all the time I’m pullin an headlockin, I got all these thoughts runnin through my head. Like … what’s a puny weed of a fella like this doin out here on his own … what a thin little voice … sounds more like a girl than a man … wait a minute, who does that voice remind me of? An then his hood falls back an—

Let go! she shrieks. Lemme go, you bastard!

Emmi? I says. I don’t believe it. My heart jest about stops from shock. Emmi! I says. What the—?

I haul her up by one arm an grab her chin so’s I can see her better. It’s Emmi an no mistake. My blood boils over so fast I think the top of my head’s gonna blow right off.

What’re you doin here? I yell.

Saba? she says.

Who the hell else would it be?

I thought you was a sand spirit, from Pa’s stories! She points at my face. Yer face is all white!

I brush at my cheek. Sand. I must be all coated with sand.

What’re you tryin to do, kill me? That hurt! she says, rubbin at her arm where my shot hit her.

When I git finished with you, I says, you’ll wish I had killed you. What the hell’re you doin here?

I’m gonna help you find Lugh! She glares at me, with her stubborn chin. He’s my brother too.

Gawdsblood, Emmi, I told you to—argh! I grab my hair with my hands. What’ve you done? You got no idea what yer doin!

Neether do you!

Don’t you be pert with me! I grab the horse’s rope bridle.
I know what the answer is but I still ask the question. Is this Mercy’s horse?

Emmi folds her arms over her chest. Scrinches her mouth all tight.

I grit my teeth. Did. You. Steal. Mercy’s. Horse. Answer me this second.

No! she says. No, I never! Stealin’s wrong, I know that! I … borrowed it.

You borrowed it, I says. You said, Oh, by the way, Mercy, I’m jest goin after Saba, d’you mind if I borrow yer horse? An she said, Oh no, please, go right ahead! An don’t you worry fer one second about my crippled old ankle an how th’only way I can git anywhere is on my damn horse. Is that it, Emmi? Is that how it went? Is that how you borrowed Mercy’s gawdam horse?

No, I—oh, why don’t you jest go to hell! She claps her hand over her mouth. Too late.

Gawdammit, Emmi, don’t you swear! Don’t you ever let me catch you swearin agin!

You swear all the time!

I do not!

You do too! Anyways, I’ll swear if I want!

Oh no you won’t! An you know what? If Mercy dies, it’ll be yer fault.

Don’t say that, she says.

Why not? It’s the truth.

Yer the meanest person I ever met! I hate you!