Lady Grace & the War for a New World (Earth's End Book 2) (33 page)

57

First thing in the morning, Bud and Wes hopped on horses and rode over to the place where the battle had been. All that was left of the shelter was a flat crater; the whole thing had sunk into the earth. A stinking, yellow powder covered everything. It seemed to be heading directly toward their camp: An arm protruded from it as though the doctor was clawing his way over.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on this,” Bud said.

“It’s moving. Look!” Wes nodded his head in the direction of the arm. They could see it move. Wes shot his blue beams at the powder until he came up empty. “My blue beam just died.”

He had succeeded in blasting the arm’s edge back a couple of feet. It started moving again as they watched. Soon, it was farther than where it had started. It was only a twenty-minute walk from the underground to where they were camped. The crud was moving slowly, but inevitably. It was as though it had their scent.

Bud felt ill sitting on his horse. He could see that it targeted the people from the underground, Sam first and hardest, and then the others, babies first. It made everyone sick. Nauseated. Weak. Shaky. They needed to stop it.

But how? Wes’s blue beams had just slowed it down—and neither of them had that kind of Power any more.

That was what he’d been working on in his head all day. He had a plan that needed to be followed to the letter. And it would, he hoped.

“Let’s get back to the others,” Bud said, wheeling his mount.

“The storage sheds
are
here! On both sides!” Jeremy shouted as he tore boards off the inside of the barn. “Look at this stuff!”

Sure enough, the extra solar panels were stored there. They had enough panels to light a small city, had one still existed. Bud was impressed.

“I’m going to turn the vehicles into straight solar power when we get to the cliff,” Jeremy said. “We’ll fill them up with fuel here and take all the barrels of fuel we can, but we won’t need it much once we get there. I’ll start on the conversion right away.”

Sam never got off his chair. Most of the time he lay on a pad watching them. His fever was so high that you could practically see heat waves rise from him. The worse Sam got, the harder Jeremy worked. He felt what they all did: Sam might not make it.

It was funny what got to people. Bud had never seen Grace show anything but bravery and fortitude until they found a stash of her furniture in one of the sheds. It must have been stuff that was discarded from the house. He could see a broken table leg, torn upholstery, a chipped glass tabletop. She touched a settee—he knew it was a settee and not a sofa or couch because his wife had been redecorating and introduced him to the vocabulary of furniture. The settee was upholstered in brocade; he knew that, too.

Grace ran her hand over the curve of one arm. The fabric was so old; it would probably crumble if anyone sat on it. But the raw, sad look on her face touched him. He realized that she’d lost a glamorous life like Will Duane lived. Estates all over, designer clothes, fabulous trips, everything. Prestige. Power.

He’d see to it that they took most of the furniture, as well as everything else that was potentially useful. The flatbed trailer would help a lot.

Bud had been sure Wes would get the farm equipment going in no time once the solar panels charged the batteries for the duos. But it didn’t work that way. After a week of more drudgery and disappointment than anyone anticipated, they were packed up and ready to go—without the machines or solar panels. None of the engines would turn over.

Bud had spent his time gentling horses and getting them used to the travois. Everyone had pulled the stuff they could pull with the horses out of the barn and packed it. It was backbreaking work. They couldn’t fit everything they wanted to take on the travois and had to leave some of the most important things. Tempers were frayed from the work and the inescapable stench of the yellow powder. Several days passed. It seemed too much trouble to count them.

Bud and Wes rode out every evening, keeping track of the yellow crud. It
was
worse, and closer.

Finally, they were leaving. Everyone who could ride was mounted. A fleet of travois was attached to horses and loaded for the trip. The kids were strapped into horse-drawn drays, as were the three disabled people.

Bud stood next to Sam’s chair with a travois. Sam refused to be lifted into it. Bud held the horse, turning from side to side as though he were looking for somewhere to disappear. “I have sat here while ye slaved,” Sam said. “I have done nothin’ to help. How can I be yer chief, riding like a baby? I canna, and I will na’. Bud, get ma horse!”

“Sam, I know the last two weeks have been hard for you.” Grace bent over him. “No one thinks you were shirking. You have to stay off your feet. You don’t have any skin on your feet and legs. Bacteria can enter your wounds and you can’t stop it. People
die
of injuries like yours.”

“It dinna hurt, lady. I am fine.”

“You are not fine. And you do hurt. You’re taking antibiotics and pain medication.”

Bud’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Sam, if you ride a horse, you’ll have to get on and off a bunch of times in a day, not just once. You’ll have to hop on one foot getting on and land on one foot getting off. Your legs will rub on the stirrups and the leathers. The horse could fall down or buck you off. Please get in the travois …”

The sound of an engine coughing drowned out Bud’s voice. They looked in the direction of the machine barn.

Wes was so pissed off. He
intended
to get the fucking motors going, and they weren’t helping a bit. His head and arms were jammed into the center well of one of the AWD vehicles. He had the cover on the Duo-duo-duo-
stupid
battery open and was trying to uncouple the solar connection that had been charging it up, or so they thought. He and Jeremy had no real indication that the solar was doing anything. None of the dials on the instrument panel moved. Getting the jury-rigged contraption hooked up to the solar panels had been hell; uncoupling it was double hell.

“I think you should let it charge a little longer, Wes,” Jeremy said.

“A little longer and everyone will have left without us. We uncovered all this stuff, and we’re
going
to take it back to the cliff. We don’t have time to
let it charge,
” Wes snarled. The stench of the yellow powder had made him explosive.

“It won’t do any good to unhook it if it’s not charged,
Wes
.”

“But you said you didn’t know if it was charging. So who the fuck cares if I unhook it?”

“I care, Wes. I want to take everything as much as you do. Look. Give it ten more minutes.” Jeremy pointed at the clock on the vehicle’s dashboard, which
was
working. “I’ll see if I can crank up the solar power.” He walked to a system of linked panels and cable that fed into the engine. He fiddled with the cables, then turned a knob on a control board. “Tell me if anything happens.”

Wes felt a buzz in the AWD’s battery immediately. He quickly rehooked the connections that he’d been trying to unhook. “Now we got something.” The buzz was steady. “Why didn’t you do that to start with?”

“I was afraid the engine might blow up.”

Wes jumped back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did.”

”You stinking son of a bitch!”

“You better be careful that my mother doesn’t hear you talking like that.”

Wes felt like lighting into Jeremy, but didn’t. “OK. I take it back. God save the queen.”

“What did you say?” Jeremy’s fists clenched and he took a step toward Wes.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry. I’m just fucked up … a little nervous. I didn’t mean anything about your mother.”

“OK. What does it look like now?”

“What?”

“The meter on the electrical adapter. The thing that shows whether or not the battery is charging.”

“Oh.” Wes looked into the well in front of him. “It’s charging! I can see the needle rise!”

“Ten minutes and we’ll give it a try.”

They gave it a try. Wes turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.

Wes
and
Jeremy swore.

“The only thing it can be is the computer. There’s gotta be a loose chip or some bad code.” Jeremy whipped out one of his mini-computers and hooked it up to the center panel of the duo. “I’ve already tested everything, but not with the batteries charged. I’ll do it again. Come on, come on.”

Jeremy launched himself at the machine. He reminded Wes of one of the cow dogs on his family ranch. Once one of them locked onto a job, the only way to stop the animal was to shoot it.

Jeremy finally pulled away. “Try it now. There was a glitch in the code and a loose connection.”

Wes was almost afraid to turn the key. He shot a look at Jeremy.

“Go on. Try it.” Jeremy urged him, moving his hands like he was scooting Wes along.

Sucking in a breath, Wes hit the ignition. He could see Jeremy’s tense face next to him. The vehicle belched, then bucked, and settled into a rumbling purr.

“Yahoo! We got it!” Wesley shouted. “We’re on our way out of here!” Jeremy launched himself on Wes, giving him a bear hug. Wes recoiled. “Hey, man, that’s enough.” Then he just grinned. The engine ran rough, but it was running.

He drove the vehicle out of the sunken barn and into the open. Jeremy hung on the back. The two of them grinned widely. They drove up to Sam and Bud and Grace, honking the horn until they saw the effect it was having on the horses.

“Hey you guys, it works!” Wes shouted. “We can get them all going.”

Sam drifted in and out of a haze, feeling people moving around him, seeing the equipment being loaded and then moving. Two days had passed since Wesley and Jeremy had started the machines. Sam could see the fleet of farm vehicles in the center of a herd of loaded horses. The lady had told him they had a special conveyance for him.

“You’ll be safe, Sam,” she said. He had drifted too far away to hear the concern in her voice. And then what they’d rigged up to carry him heaved up in front of him.

“Hey, Sam! Climb in!” Wesley waved from the driver’s seat of the largest machine. Exhaust fumes and engine noise belched from it. The machine had a huge scooper on the front with a smaller scooper like a hand and arm on the back. It pulled a huge disked drag with the blades pulled up. On that, drums of fuel and as much hardware from the barn as they could pack were strapped down tight.

Wes drove to where Sam sat with Grace, the machine’s front bucket raised triumphantly. He stopped near Sam and lowered the bucket until it rested on the ground.

“Sam, get in.” Wes grinned. “Best seat in the house. I’ll be your chauffeur.”

Sam, wan and pale, gazed at the machine.

“It’s a backhoe loader,” Wesley shouted. “The bucket in front is balanced by all the stuff I’m pulling behind. I can keep you up there the whole way. C’mon. It beats a travois.”

“It’s a good idea, Sam,” Grace said. “I’ll put the pads inside and cover you with a tarp. You can rest while we’re traveling.”

Sam acquiesced. He hadn’t slept well for days, falling into black dreams. He shivered and could feel his cheeks flaming. He allowed Jeremy and Henry to lift him into the bucket.

“Here are your antibiotics. And the pain pills and water,” Grace said.

“I’m fine, lady. Dinna worry.” His face felt leaden. He hurt all over. He wouldn’t let them know. He would not be a burden.

Wes raised the bucket and they were off.

Sam grabbed at the sides of the bucket when the vehicle rumbled forward. The machine looked huge when he first saw it, and it seemed more enormous when he rode in it. The sound it made running and the feel of it moving rattled his bones and made his feet ache. He pulled himself up and looked over the edge. The others spread out before him.

The lady had told him the names of all the vehicles. Lena and James drove the two tractors. They pulled trailers full of things he didn’t have words for. There was a truck. Its back was covered with something like a small house. That must hold the babies and the three people from the village. The truck pulled a trailer jammed with more things. Jeremy drove something like a car, which pulled a vehicle similar to itself. A mule, Jeremy had called it. Both were loaded. Bud, Henry, and Grace rode horses while leading horses with travois. A bunch of horses pulling drays ran along with them, loose.

Sam lay back, dizzy. He felt the way he had when he had first gotten out of the underground when he’d wanted to scream and throw himself on the ground. His body felt hot. The sun bore down. They had covered him with a tarp, but it magnified the sun’s heat.

He tried to look backward at Wesley, but could only see the roof of the machine behind him. Wesley couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see Wesley. Sam didn’t trust Wesley. Would he drop the bucket and throw Sam out?

He shivered as the hours passed and the sun baked him under the tarp. He drifted in and out, thinking and being awake, and then being fuzzy. Not knowing where he was or why. He needed water, but was too weak to get it. His legs flamed like the fire was still burning them.