Lightning (10 page)

“I don't have a clue.” Selah held up her hands and scanned
both palms. They vibrated again like this morning. Fear and wonder consumed her at the same time. Was this part of being novarium?

“I guess you won't have a use for these.” Cleon gathered up her scattered kapos and dropped them back in the leather pouch.

“Are you going to tell us what's going on, or do we just pretend we didn't see you make that guy fly through the air?” Jaenen stood his ground, noticeably farther away.

Selah winced, though Treva didn't appear intimidated.

“How long has that been happening?” Treva rested her hand on Selah's arm.

“I don't know. I think I first noticed it this morning.” Selah continued to stare at her hands as though some invisible text would pop up with a warning label and directions.

“Can you do it again?” Cleon closed the pouch.

“I don't know. I'll try.” Selah extended her hands. She didn't know how to turn on whatever it was that made the energy burst. She tensed her muscles, then jerked her hands forward. Nothing happened.

Treva jumped back. “Hold on! I think you need a focal point and I don't want to be it.”

“Me either!” Cleon and Jaenen spoke in unison.

“Maybe it's an emotional reaction, and you need to be upset or something,” Treva said.

“I was angry about being slapped, and his smell made my stomach lurch.” Selah rubbed at her hands.

Jaenen shook his head. “We came out of that a lot better than I expected. This is why a caravan is always the safest
bet through this part of the country. You two women were very brave.”

“I wasn't scared like this morning in the earthquake,” Selah said.

“Earthquake? What earthquake?” Cleon slowly approached.

“When I was in the Repository.”

Treva waved a finger back and forth. “We're going to have to work on improving our communication, 'cause I don't remember you saying a single word about anything like an earthquake.”

Selah hung her head. “I thought you'd make me stay home if I told you I was seeing things.”

“Ladies, how about we continue this conversation on the road and get out of here before our company decides to return?” Jaenen snatched up Selah's bag and stuffed the contents back inside, including the reader and data glass holder. He started to toss it into the wagon, but Selah caught his arm and gently relieved him of the bag.

The four scrambled into the AirWagon. Cleon rubbed the control panel and encouraged it to start, using sweet cooing sounds like Selah heard him use when talking to his cows. She and Treva traded glances and giggles, but when the AirWagon fired up, they both cheered. Cleon threw it in forward, and they shot up the road at close to the max of forty miles an hour.

No one spoke. The silence was almost a group signal for “don't break the good fortune by talking until we're completely safe.” Fifteen minutes later they let out a collective sigh of relief as the waters of the Delaware Bay appeared.

“How long will it take to cross the water?” Already glistening with sweat, Selah rubbed her hands down her pant legs. Thinking about one of those large-finned monsters chomping down on a leg and dragging her out to sea had kept her on land since the age of ten, when she'd witnessed a shark attack that left the waters churning red with blood. She loved the ocean smell and the hypnotic motion of the waves, but that was as close as she wanted to get even though she could swim well. Mother said swimming was like riding a horse—you never forgot how.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Cleon said. “I'll keep it at top speed. I know your love of the water.”

Treva turned. “Oh, you like to swim too! I love—”

“I hate it. He was being sarcastic,” Selah said.

Jaenen reached over and patted her arm. Selah grabbed his hand, turning her knuckles white with the strength of her death grip. Jaenen grimaced but lifted the left side of his mouth in a tortured half smile. Selah appreciated his sacrifice as she restricted the blood flow to his hand.

She needed something to alleviate her fear of the AirWagon pitching and dumping her in the water at any second. She took a few quick looks at the waves sliding along the bay. Her chest squeezed. Small whitecaps dotted the peaks on the surface, and an occasional gull dove for fish. For the most part, she kept her eyes closed, content to smell the seaweed and brine in the air. That was as close as she wanted to get.

She bit her lip raw until they safely edged onto shore at the other side, then expelled the breath it seemed she'd held since they started across.

“How soon can we get to the Mountain?” Selah said without thinking.

“The Mountain?” Treva turned to face her. “What do you, of all people, want with the Mountain?”

Selah slid her hand from Jaenen's. He looked at her apologetically. “You might as well tell them. It's now or never.”

Cleon cycled down the AirWagon and it drifted to the ground. “Tell us what?” He looked at Jaenen. “Apparently you knew about this?”

Jaenen bristled. “Listen, my job is to find your—”

“It's not Jaenen's fault. I didn't tell him the whole story.” Selah looked around. “Are we safe to stop here? I don't want to get attacked just for the sake of conversation.”

“We're on the safe side of the bay. We'll be camping a few miles farther up the road near WoodHaven. Tell me what's going on.” Cleon swiveled his seat around to face her.

“Please don't be mad.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I went to the healer, and she let me . . .”

“What?” Cleon leaned down to look into Selah's downcast eyes.

“I've been to the Repository looking for information on novarium who've gone before me.” She just couldn't talk anymore about Bodhi's loss. It was his private business, and she didn't think it was right to be discussing it in a group setting. As it stood, Bodhi would be livid Jaenen was on this trip.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with the Mountain? Please tell me they don't have novarium trapped in there too.” Treva's forehead wrinkled with worry lines.

“No, nothing like that. But I did find a corrupted Mountain file with part of my stepfather's name.”

Cleon jumped to his feet, banging his hip on the control levers. He winced. “Father's in the Mountain? How is that possible? Are Mother and Dane with him?”

Selah shook her head. “I don't know anything else.”

Cleon pointed a finger at her. “We have to go there, but you're going back home. You're their main target, and I don't want you in that kind of danger.”

“No, I'm not going home. It's my information, and if I don't get to go, you can't have it.” She would give it to him anyway if there was a chance their parents were somehow trapped there, but making threats at the moment might work in her favor.

Treva attempted to smooth things over. “Wait, you two. We need to think logically of the best and safest plan.”

Jaenen silently watched the exchange, then raised a hand. “Since I'm the navigator Glade hired for this family retrieval operation, I think I get a say. Selah has the data glass, so I say she gets to come. Cleon, they're your parents too, so you get to come. Treva . . .” Jaenen threw up his hands. “It's your Mountain—join the party.”

Relief washed over Selah as she tried to stifle a grin. After Jaenen evoked Glade's name, there was nothing Cleon or Treva could say to make her go home. She'd won this round. That was another one she owed Jaenen.

Cleon sputtered and gritted his teeth but voiced no further protest. He turned back to the controls. “Since we don't have any food, we need to get to the camp area so we can
hunt for dinner before it gets dark. But first, Sissy, I want to know about the earthquake you said you felt this morning.”

“I'll tell you on the way. I'd feel more comfortable off the ground and moving,” Selah said.

He fired up the AirWagon and they headed west toward the rusted skeletal remains of the city called Dove. The name made Selah think of peace—something she could really learn to appreciate at the moment.

B
odhi, Glade, and Taraji met with the commander of Lander security for Wilmington. His sparsely furnished field office at the landing pad consisted of a desk and chair, a computer link, and a couple of basic seats in a dusty brown room—a classic example of the quality of security Bodhi had seen in Wilmington on a number of occasions in the past. Most crime on this trail could be attributed to bio-coin payoffs of the local officials along the way. Unfortunately, corruption was also prevalent in Lander security in the larger cities like Wilmington and Baltimore.

“You three have certainly put a dent in the criminal element around this substation,” the commander said. He'd arrived five minutes after they slammed the security door shut.

“Do we know if these are your ordinary malcontents or one of the splinter groups?” Bodhi chose to lean against the wall instead of taking an uncomfortable-looking metal chair.

“We picked up two bodies and captured both of the wounded trying to get away. They're splinters all right. They're all marked,” the commander said.

“What kind of marks?” Bodhi looked at Glade. He hadn't heard of this before. There were more Landers with marks on their heads?

Glade shook his head. “Not like you'd think of Landers. Both splinter groups lost their Lander head markings with intermarriage of the first generation. They're still of Lander blood, but from the second generation forward, they were changed.”

Taraji leaned forward on her chair. “They fought against the original Lander mission, so they intermarried on purpose to wipe out the head marks, then created their own marks.”

“One group has a tattoo of a bird, and the other group has a sword,” the commander said as he fingered the halo-keyboard. He tilted the screen so they could see illustrations of the two marks.

Bodhi stared at an image of a slender bird with long tail feathers that started near the fingers of the right hand and extended up the arm to the shoulder. The other image showed a sword laced with a lightning bolt on the upper arm.

“So it's easy to see who they are,” the commander added.

Bodhi looked back and forth between Glade and Taraji. “You know who they are and what they look like. How long can this go on? Who protects Selah? Who protects us against this threat?”

The commander leaned back in his chair. “Like always. The violence ends when this novarium cycle ends.”

Bodhi jerked from the wall. “You sound like you already know the outcome but aren't willing to help us.”

Glade stood to grasp Bodhi's shoulder. “This is why I need you. When you look at the Lander population of the north, it's half splinter groups and half First Protocol Landers. Out of the Protocol group, about half of those are newer generation—”

“The newer generations, even of First Protocol Landers, are worthless,” Taraji said. “They don't care about the old ways and ignore the novarium process whenever it starts. Their logic is, ignore it and it will go away and not ruin their perfect little lives, and that eventually happens. There are even Landers with head marks who hide them with makeup to fit in with everyone else.” She screwed up her nose in disgust.

The commander sighed and leaned forward on his desk. He looked at Bodhi. “I'm sorry I seem disinterested, but the facts of life for us are that
both
splinter groups want the code from novarium blood. They act like crazy savages whenever the process starts. People come. People go. Our lives stay the same. We have to preserve that, and make no apologies.”

Bodhi wanted to argue Selah's worth and the need to protect her, but Taraji stepped forward. “We need a medic for Glade's hand. He was—”

“Not to worry,” Glade said as he unwrapped the field bandage. “It's just a scratch and nothing that would slow us down.” The end of the bandage slipped off to expose unmarked flesh. Glade turned his palm up and then down. Front and back clean. “Just a scratch. All better now.”

Taraji and Bodhi looked at his hand.

Bodhi looked hard into Glade's eyes. “You still have all of your abilities.”

Glade averted his eyes.

The commander jumped to his feet and tapped his ear com. He held up a hand for quiet. “I think it's time to get you on your way to the safety of your caravan. It seems someone has come looking for their missing comrades.”

Bodhi, Glade, and Taraji grabbed their weapons from the charging station.

“The only reason I allowed you three to stay armed in Wilmington is because you're moving on right away. But when you get to Baltimore, they'll confiscate those until you leave the city,” the commander said. He led the way to the waiting security unit transporting them to the depot.

Glade and Taraji took the right wall seat behind an armed agent, and Bodhi piled in on the left with the commander, who positioned himself right behind the driver. The security unit sped off to the west side of town down a dusty road laced with random trees and numerous industrial storage buildings.

Surprised that only two security agents were in the unit, and neither heavily armed, Bodhi questioned the move. “Commander, is another unit going to meet us? This isn't much firepower if we encounter splinters.”

Glade and Taraji leaned over to hear his answer above the whine of the engine.

The commander grinned wryly and gave a shrug. “We don't have the resources to protect every novarium-class offense—”

“How many cases are you talking?” Bodhi remained grim, counteracting the commander's misplaced smile.

“Every Lander girl in any of the colonies, as she turns eighteen,” the commander said. “That could be as high as several dozen some years. I don't know how the splinters keep track of them, but it reminds me of a shark feeding frenzy when they smell blood in the water.” He shook his head.

Bodhi blinked hard. Dozens? None of them made it to transitioning? What had happened to all of these girls?

The unit accelerated suddenly and jerked to the side to miss a stand of trees, causing them all to grab on for stability.

“Sir, we've got a surveillance pod following us, and communications caught several hostile units plotting an intercept course in the section on this side of the depot,” the driver said. He increased the speed again, watching the S-pod on his scanner.

The commander cursed under his breath and tapped his ear com. “Get me a tactical battle squad, and they'd better be at the section handoff when we get there.” He turned to the group. “Once I get you people to caravan security, my job is done. We were doing fine until you started this up again. I don't need to be in the middle of this.”

“Middle of this?” Bodhi fumed as he held the side strap to keep from shifting into the commander's lap. “You're the head of Lander security for this city. I'd think you—”

“Don't be mad at him.” Taraji shook her head. “It's standard procedure coming directly from the Council bosses. I've contacted the caravan. They're sending an extra unit to follow us.”

Bodhi balled his hands into fists. He wanted to rage, but he noticed Glade was often his most controlled and calm during hectic times like this. He reined himself in and tried to follow that example but wondered how Glade was doing it.

A pulse cannon fired at the road in front of the security unit. Rocking with the percussion, the unit veered to the left, scraped the ground, and bounced up to regain its two-foot hover height.

Bodhi and Glade steadied themselves and drew their weapons.

“We don't have a pulse cannon to return fire. Our best course of action is to resist engaging.” The commander's weapon remained holstered.

Taraji hadn't drawn her weapon either. “We need to be out in the open before anyone engages in return fire so we know who or what we're shooting. I want the three of us staying together.” She made a point of staring at Bodhi. He understood.

The unit bucked and sputtered, dipping to the ground again and back into the air after a glancing blow off a tree.

“Sir, I've got a problem with the forward thrusters. I think they sucked in debris. We need to set down,” the driver said.

The commander cursed again, and Bodhi flinched at the venom of his words.

Glade anchored himself using a side strap. “How far are we from the caravan?”

“We're in for a sprint. It's about a section and a half from here,” Taraji said as she took note of the landscape. Bodhi marveled at how she keyed her ComLink and maintained
her balance at the same time with just her feet pressed to the floor.

“You're actually much closer than that,” the commander said. “We wouldn't leave you in the middle of nowhere. I'll give you directions.”

Taraji kept her head low but moved her eyes toward Bodhi. He understood her look right away. The commander was lying. Bodhi passed the glance to Glade, who gave an imperceptible acknowledgment with his eyes.

Bodhi had readied himself to fight with splinters, not Lander security. “We're supposed to be on the same side, but it seems you're not offering any protections once we leave this vehicle. Is that correct?”

The commander's eyes shifted rapidly before they calmed and he spoke. “I—we aren't authorized for street skirmishes. We have the responsibility of transporting you from one venue to the other.” The security unit bucked again, threatening to put them all on the floor.

Bodhi felt his insides coil. “Where is your allegiance—”

“We're glad that you helped us get this far, Commander,” Glade said. “Thank you for directions, but I think we have that taken care of—Taraji?”

Taraji nodded. The commander's expression darkened.

The security unit dropped hard, skidding another hundred feet up the road. It came to a halting stop as the tail hooked on a low tree branch and spun them sideways.

The pilot and front seat agent had been knocked out by hitting the windscreen. The commander actually looked scared. There was nothing more for Bodhi to say.

He stepped out of the unit last this time, giving the lead to Taraji. She understood the way these people thought better than he did. He had expected all Landers to be on the same side. Why did he think that when he came here? Was it something he knew from before?

Taraji nudged his elbow and pointed back down the road behind them.

He saw it right away. The surveillance pod sent by the splinters was zooming closer. Bodhi stared at it, calculating the speed and wind. He withdrew his laser dart, dialed the setting for distance, reduced the beam width, raised his weapon with both hands, and fired.

The S-pod exploded into a hundred pieces.

Glade came forward slowly. “How did you do that?”

Bodhi stayed silent as he interpreted what just happened. He was an expert marksman. And neither the fierceness of the situation nor the enemy engagement had instilled fear in him. In fact, they had emboldened him.

He looked at Taraji. “You pointed the S-pod out. You knew I could do it. How?”

“I had the first clue watching the way you strapped on the laser dart. But when I saw you dial the load for distance I knew—the field assassin style,” Taraji said.

Bodhi looked to Glade, lifted his shoulders once. “I don't know, but it felt natural.”

“Let's get out of here before the other splinters catch up to the last location of that S-pod.” Taraji motioned in the direction of a two-story stone building up a slight incline on the right. “There's an opening to the road on top of the hill
behind that building. It cuts off a half mile of snaking around the hill and puts us mere buildings from the meeting spot.”

Bodhi and Glade scrambled to keep up with the six-foot woman. Her nimble frame seemed to bound over the landscape as though she wore springs. Bodhi envied her ease of movement through the brush and up the hill. He hoped his stamina might return someday, but at least he was keeping up with Glade.

They reached the ridge. Bodhi inhaled a great gulp of air, expanding his chest and stretching the muscles that had tightened on the climb.