The Pearl Wars (18 page)

34

On one side of us, four burly Fringers. On the other, one nasty-looking crossbow. An hour of peace, that’s all I ask for.

Horatio and his buddies laugh, wiping the sweat from their brows. “What the hell’s that supposed to be, Henderson?”

“Antique,” the kid replies, “but these arrows are still mighty sharp. What do
you want?”

“We’re here to talk to your pops,” Horatio responds. “Business proposition.”

“Yeah? Don’t think he’ll like that.”

The Fringers continue to advance, slower but no less menacing. “Don’t think we care,” Horatio grins. “You looking for a fight, Henderson?”

The boy steps back, curving around us until he has a lock on the gang. “Head over to Uni. Now. Or I put a shish-kabob right through each one of
you.”

Horatio chuckles, hands in the air.

“I said now!”

Horatio nudges his friend, whispering something to him before focusing back on the boy. “One of these days when you’re not looking, I’m gonna smear your head all over the pavemen
t.”

The boy grins. “I’m a biter. You get near my face and you’ll lose an ear.”

Horatio shakes his head, amused, and motions for the gang to follow him into the town. With one final nod in our direction, they skirt down the street and out of sight. The boy keeps the crossbow pointed at us, jaw clenched with one hand on the trigger. Then, satisfied that the other Fringers are really gone, he drops it to his side.

“Yo.” He holds out his hand like we’re actually gonna go over and shake it. It’s filthy, like the rest of him. A tuft of dark hair sticks out from underneath a backward baseball cap. His dampened clothing is riddled with holes. “Buncha chickens back there,” he mutters, pointing down the street. “Thing doesn’t even shoot right.”

We stare at him for at least five seconds, utterly silent.

He pulls back his hand. “Guess we’re not gonna be shakin’. What’s the matter? You ain’t city folk, are you?”

“No,” I stammer. “We’re … uh … wanderers.” It comes out more like a question than a statement.

The kid flashes an
are-you-stupid
grin, which quickly develops into a full-bellied laugh. “Wan
derers? Not out here you ain’t. Closest town’s thirty miles away. That wanderer crap may fly in the East, but not here. Unless you’
ve got a secret camel hump behind you.” He crosses his arms. “So where you really from? Survivors of the train wreck?”

Avery nods.

With lightning-fast reflexes, the kid raises the crossbow again, ready to shoot.

“No, wait!” She holds out her hand. “We’re Skyship.”

His head tilts, but he keeps the weapon pointed forward. “Prove it.”

Avery rolls her eyes. “You said that crossbow doesn’t work.”

“Works all right.”

She sighs, stepping toward him.

“Avery!” I pull on her arm to stop her. She ignores me and grabs the front of the bow, yanking it from the kid’s grip and tossing it behind her. It crashes on the pavement, much to the kid’s dismay.

She glares at him. “Why would anybody from a Chosen come running all the way out here?”

“City Salesmen.” The kid rubs his gloved hand, annoyed. “Couple of ’em wandered in two weeks ago, trying to drag us into the Chosens and make us pay that pretty little tax of theirs. Chuck us out and reel us in … that’s how they do it.”

“Do we look like City Salesmen?”

He frowns. “Guess not.”

“Who were those guys?” I motion down the street.

“Wannabe gang lords.” He lifts his goggles, revealing a pair of inquisitive blue eyes. “Don’t know how they keep winding up around here. They’re from down south, trying to make a name for themselves. Not tough enough to do it back in YakTown so they mosey up here, I guess.”

Avery crosses her arms. “How did you know about the train crash?”

“Big news,” he says. “Good thing you left when you did. Twenty miles north of YakTown ain’t nothing. Gangs’ll be on it like ants on a carcass—druggies looking to cash in on whatever’s left.”

My mind flashes back to the exploded Chute. I wonder if the government will send help if it means risking a standoff with Fringers.

“Name’s Bobby.” The boy removes his cap, rustling his hair. “You guys looking for a Pearl? That it?”

“No,” Avery starts. “Actually, we’re looking for food. We haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods, repositioning the cap on his head. “Never seen Shippers ’round these parts before. Ain’t there laws against that?”

I glance over at him. “We aren’t exactly legal.”

He shrugs. “An enemy of the Unified Party is a friend to me. I guess I don’t have to kill you or nothing.”

“We’re just passing through,” Avery says. “All we need is food. We can pay you.”

Bobby chuckles, crouching down to inspect the busted crossbow. “With what? Skyship credit ain’t good down here. Unless you got a packet of Serenity to trade with Horatio and his goons, I’m not interested.”

“Rations,” she replies. “We can get you rations after all this is over.”

“
All this is over?
” He stands. “Where you two think you’re going?”

“Seattle,” I answer.

He shakes his head, grinning. “Seattle?
Sunken City
Seattle? You really think the Cascade Colony’s gonna let you through?”

I hold my hand up to block the blinding sun. “The Cascade what?”

“The Colony.” He motions for us to follow him, cutting through a vacant parking lot in front of the gutted shell of a supermarket. “The Cascadians. Old George Barkley’s been heading over there twice a month ever since the smog lifted. Gotta pay the toll, though. They trust him.” He pauses. “Don’t trust nobody else.”

Avery speeds up to walk by his side. “There are people living in the mountains?”

“Of course there are people living in the mountains,” he replies. “It’s cooler up there. Not by much, but there’s shade. Trees.” He jumps a curb, leading us through a patch of scratchy grass until we’re back on another road.

I step over a large crack fracturing the center of the street. “How does this Barkley guy get over there?”

“Moving van,” Bobby answers. “Fills it up with trinkets from the city. Stuff to trade. Stuff to tinker with. What’s got you folks so interested?”

Avery glances at me, but keeps quiet.

“We’re looking for something,” I mutter.

“Good luck finding it. Barkley’s about picked the place clean.”

We cross the street and head into what was once a residential neighborhood. I stare at the vacant, country-style houses on either side of us, trying to picture them as they once were, with mass green lawns and bright new paint jobs. “Has he ever seen anything weird?”

Bobby laughs. “Weird? The whole city’s a graveyard, buddy. Ain’t nothing to see, weird or otherwise.”

Avery tugs at the front of her damp shirt. “Any chance we could catch a ride with this guy?”

“George Barkley? He takes off this afternoon. I can introduce you, but good luck.” He heads for an alleyway between two particularly scummy houses. “Never did catch your names.”

“Oh.” She grabs my shoulder as we follow him out onto the next street. “I’m Avery. And this is Jesse.”

“And you came all the way down from Skyship to Lenbrg so you could hitch a ride to Seattle?”

“It’s a long story,” I reply.

He stops suddenly, pointing at a group of well-maintained brick buildings stretching up a few streets in front of us. “That’s Uni. Main part of town. I’ll take you there, see what we can do.”

Avery smiles. “Fantastic.”

He turns around to look at us before covering his eyes with the goggles again. “Don’t get too excited. Lots of folks around here aren’t too crazy about Shippers. Sure, you ain’t government, but you ain’t Fringe either. Maybe you’re better off with that lame wanderer story after all.”

Avery and I exchange glances. The last thing we need is another fight.

“C’mon.” He takes off down the road. “I’ll keep an eye out for you. Don’t worry.”

I sigh. Says the kid with the broken crossbow.

35

Cassius dragged his weakening body through the barren desert landscape, trying to pretend that the sun wasn’t slowly killing him.

He cursed himself for following the Chute’s tracks northeast. Madame had said Fisher would head to Seattle, not Spokane. In all the confusion and horror of the night before, the details of their brief conversation had slipped his mind. Now he’d wasted precious time. He was lost.

With the morning light, the hazy outlines of the mountains came into view far off in the distance. He knew little about Washington’s geography, except that Seattle was on the other side, away from the desert. But at the rate he was traveling now, it would take him days—weeks, even—to get there.

Squ
at brown bushes surrounded him on all sides, the only type of vegetation that could thrive in an environment crying out for rain. He’d wandered into a hilly area, though each hill was identically brown and covered with the same ugly bushes—pockmarks on an already unsightly planet.

His plan was to find a Fringe Town. He knew the locals wouldn’t be kind to him, but he’d sneak in, grab what he could, and be out before they could do anything. If he didn’t find civilization in the next day or so, he’d be out of luck. Not only could he die of dehydration, but Fisher would escape him. After the incident on the Chute, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

He kicked the dirt, swearing to himself. Part of him wondered if this was punishment for striking out on his own, for trying to show Madame that he wasn’t going to play her game anymore. No com-pad, no weapons. He’d gotten his wish. He was completely on his own.

The sun pummeled him with each step—a constant enemy, impossible to outrun. He longed for shade, for the shadow of a tree or an old telephone pole. The sky was a pool of blue, so clear that he could see the Northwestern Skyships, tiny dots in the vast abyss.

The land was flat and lifeless, except for the snakes. He’d already run across two, and though they mostly ignored him, he remained cautious. Cassius didn’t like snakes, especially ones that weren’t part of a Chosen City zoo.

Another twenty minutes passed before he stumbled upon an old roadway, cutting through the desert and disappearing into a dumpy bunch of hills in the east.

He stepped onto the cracked pavement, eager for a sign of movement. His borrowed shoes were too big for him, and worn at the heel. Running his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair, he decided to sit for a few minutes, even though he knew it would make getting back up again infinitely more difficult. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the harsh sunlight. A warm breeze tugged at his tattered shirt.

He opened his eyes to expansive nothingness. Everything was quiet—no people rushing around like in the city. No bells or advertisements or announcements. He couldn’t stand it.

Then, a noise.

At first he thought he had imagined it, that he was going crazy from exhaustion. But the more he paid attention, the louder it became. Holding up his hand to block the sun, he looked to the west.

A small red dot approached him, kicking up a cloud of dust as it sped along the road. In his fatigued state, it took a few seconds for him to realize that the dot was in fact a car. An old-fashioned electric car!

Immediately, he gathered what energy remained and stood to wave his arms in the air, jumping up and down in the middle of the road.

As the car drew closer it slowed down, pulling to a stop a few yards in front of him.

It was an old junker for sure. Most of the color had faded, covered in so much dust and dirt. But the novelty of seeing an actual car was enough to completely fascinate him. They were obsolete inside the Chosen Cities.

He approached the driver-side window carefully but quickly. The vehicle shuddered as the engine struggled in the heat.

The driver slid down the window and appraised him. He was an older man with an abundance of facial hair. Just looking at his bushy brown beard made Cassius sweat.

The man removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes as if he was staring at a mirage. “What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was gritty and loud.

“Thank god,” Cassius wheezed. “I’m stranded. I didn’t think I’d make it until—”

“Calm down.” The man held out a hand to silence him. “I can tell you’re stranded. Ain’t no reason to be all the way out here if you weren’t. Thing is, I’ve been through these parts hundreds of times and I’ve never seen someone out on their own between towns, especially a kid like you. Folks are talkin’ about some sort of train explosion down south. You’re not from the city, are you?”

Cassius took a second to concoct a convincing story, careful to conceal his ID socket—a dead giveaway.

A believable lie would require a certain level of emotion. Luckily, after hours alone in the desert Cassius was already panicked. He wouldn’t need to put on much of an act. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. My dad and I were traveling east and our car ran out of power a few miles down. My father … he didn’t … ” He paused, looking down at the ground. “The heat was too much. I’ve been out here ever since and you’re the first person I’ve seen.”

The driver drummed his fingers on the car door. “East, eh? I’ve got family out east. Fact, that’s where I’m headed now.” He sighed, staring at Cassius’s desperate face. “You got someone back
there waiting for you?”

“My mother,” Cassius responded.

The man nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “You can hop in the back if you want, but keep quiet. I like my space while I’m driving.”

“That’s all right.” Cassius smiled, though east wasn’t the direction he needed to go. “There’s just one thing. I left my bag over by the bushes.” He pointed off to the side of the road, hoping that the driver wasn’t paying much attention. “It’s got water and rations and stuff. You know, what I could take from the car. It’s the only reason I’ve been able to keep going.”

The man frowned. “So go get it.”

“It’s heavy,” Cassius continued, slumping over to look as pathetic as possible. “If you could just help me drag it to the car, I’ll let you take what you want. The sun has made me so weak I can barely stand.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he hoped he’d have enough energy left for one quick attack. All he needed was for the guy to get out of the car.

The man appraised him for a second before giving a great sigh and turning off the engine. He pushed open the driver-side door, shaking his head as he stepped onto the road, no doubt craving rations as much as Cassius was.

He was nearly a foot taller than Cassius, but fairly thin and clearly not expecting a fight. Cassius gritted his teeth. If he didn’t do this right the first time, it was over.

The man rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the landscape. “Now where’s this bag of yours?”

Cassius pointed off to the side of the road and the man stepped forward, turning his back to him.

As soon as he did, Cassius punched the Fringer right behind the ear, quickly and with enough force to send him slumping over sideways onto the ground. The guy struggled for a few seconds as he slid to the pavement, then stopped moving altogether.

Cassius toyed with the idea of taking the keys and leaving the man out in the open. Less trouble that way. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d already been responsible for so many deaths. The thought of one more, especially one so pointless, sickened him. He wasn’t the bad guy.

So he pried the keys from the man’s hand and walked to the back of the car, unlocking the trunk. With the energy he had left, he grabbed the guy’s ankles and pulled him along the road and up into the trunk. His muscles strained with the weight. As soon as he stuffed the last limp arm inside, he closed the hatch and made his way to the front.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he realized he’d never had the chance to drive an actual automobile before. He couldn’t imagine it was very hard, especially in such a barren landscape.

He tried two keys before finding the right one. The engine buzzed to life and he discovered how to shift the vehicle into drive. Spinning the wheel, he made a sharp U-turn and barreled down the empty road, pushing the old junker to its limit.