Authors: Matthew Costello
Dan paused, then he did something that was worse than any punch—more humiliating, more disrespectful: he smashed the back of his hand into Halek’s grizzly face in a viscious slap. Halek collapsed to the floor.
Then he turned back to Raine.
“Okay. I—guess you can see—I didn’t know. Had nothing to do with it.” He took a step toward Raine. “I would
never
have anything to do with that. Might as well be a bandit. Damn Outriggers, for all their fuel and buildings, pretty much are just that—bandits. You got out?”
Raine explained his rescue.
Dan laughed. “That is one hell of a bandit girl.”
“They’re not all bad.”
“Bad? No, they have a code. Some do, at least. Still, let’s just say you got lucky.” Dan dabbed at his nose. “Shit.”
“Hey, sorry.” Then, with a head tilt to Halek, “Do you mind?”
“Be my guest.”
And Raine sent a surprise fist into Halek’s gut. The sound of wind being expelled was like the pop of an explosive.
When he went to the ground this time, no one cared whether he got up.
“I’ll have to watch my brother.”
“You know why I came back?”
“To work me over? Good punches, by the way.”
“No.” Raine looked around. “Not sure you get this … but this, here, your settlement. It’s all I know. Where the hell would I go? What would I do? Can’t go back to the Outriggers, that’s for sure.”
“Well, you’re welcome. As long as you want.”
Which is when Dan’s daughter ran in, and in mere moments … Dan had to rescind his offer.
Loosum had news.
“
D
ad—they’re looking for him,” she said.
Dan turned to his daughter. “What?”
“Got a message from one of our traders. Enforcers showed up at the Outriggers, and now they’re starting to search the area around the settlement.”
Raine caught Loosum looking at him.
Like I’m a doomed man, he thought.
“Not good news?” Raine said, stating the obvious.
“Well, thanks to my stupid brother, they won’t think you’re here,” Dan said. “Not at first. Not if they think that
we
dealt you to the Outriggers.”
Loosum came up to Raine. “So you have some time.”
Dan nodded. “Not much, though. They’ll come here. Have to. They’ll check everywhere. Once they know there’s a survivor free, they won’t stop.”
Raine looked at them both. In that moment he realized that, like it or not, his only human connection to this world was this place, these people.
Now what?
He didn’t have to ask.
“Okay. So here’s—” Dan started, but then looked at his daughter. He obviously relied on her for support and ideas.
“You have to leave,” she said bluntly. “We can get you stocked up. Some food. More ammo. Halek can get you a shotgun, which is the best thing if you run into muties.”
“The mutants?”
Loosum nodded. “They don’t exactly go down the way the bandits do.”
Dan put a hand on his shoulder.
“But hit them enough and they do go down.”
“So you get me … supplied. Then what?”
“Wellspring,” Dan said.
“The city?”
“It’s the only place you might disappear. I do some deals with their mayor. Guy named Clayton. As corrupt as they come, but he honors his deals. I know you can make yourself useful to him, and he, in turn, can buy you some time to disappear into Wellspring life. The Enforcers will still show up, but hopefully you can be invisible by then.”
Loosum walked closer.
“But you’ve got to lose that suit,” she said. “I’ll get some clothes together. You can’t show up looking like a survivor.”
“Get to Wellspring,” Raine said. “Meet the mayor.” It seemed surreal.
Dan nodded. “And then what? Is that what you’re thinking? Look, Raine, I’m guessing this isn’t what you signed up for. This isn’t the ‘future’ you thought you’d get. Well, unfortunately, this is all there is. Right now, you have only one job. Survive.”
“I’m okay with that plan.”
Dan smiled.
Loosum looked at her father. “The races. It’s the only way.”
Another nod, and Dan turned back to Raine. “You’ll learn about them as soon as you get there. The races in the stadium. People come from all over the Wasteland to compete. You might easily pass as another one.”
“Doesn’t sound too healthy.”
No smile this time. “It isn’t. A lot of the racers don’t last long. But—you don’t have a lot of choices. Of course, Clayton may see another use for you, though I’m guessing it won’t be until you have remade yourself as a racer.”
Loosum tapped her father’s arm. “In that buggy? God, they’ll eat him alive.”
Dan looked at Raine apologetically. “Can’t give you anything else, friend. I
can
see that my people get it working as well as it can, though.”
“Better tires, for starters,” Loosum said. “Another layer of rubber might help.”
“Yeah. We can do that. Look, I stay out of Wellspring. That’s a world … I want to avoid. Too close to the Authority, and too close to people who don’t care whether anyone lives or dies.”
“On my own, then?” Raine said.
“ ’Fraid so.” He shrugged. “And I can’t tell you what to do. But it’s an option—likely the best one you’ve got.”
“I got something … an idea that might help.”
Dan turned to his daughter, a question on his face.
Loosum smiled. “How about I teach him how to use a wingstick?”
Now Dan grinned. “Right—good idea.” He looked at Raine “You’re going to
love
this.”
“I’m guessing it’s a good thing?”
“It can be.” He turned back to Loosum. “A quick lesson, then you better get him the hell out of here.” To Raine, he said, “Who knows? Our paths may cross again.”
Loosum grabbed Raine’s arm and started pulling him outside.
“C’mon. I don’t have a lot of time to show you. And trust me—it isn’t easy.”
She held the stick, a Y-shaped piece of metal that looked like a boomerang.
Which apparently was the model.
“Okay. See here—I got the detonator shut off. Now it’s just a stick. Flies pretty much with just your throwing power, but it does use some of its charge to gain velocity.”
Loosum took a stance. Not for the first time, Raine thought that it would be good if he could stay here. Loosum had turned friendly now that he wasn’t the enemy anymore—now that Halek had taken over that role—and he could see the appeal to being friends with her.
“Focus, okay?” she snapped.
So much for friendly.
“Arm all the way back, see? You have to gauge your throw to the distance. Practice is what you need. Unfortunately, you won’t get much time to do that. When the stick begins to curve back, the small engines kick in, bringing it back to you as fast as it left.”
“And then you have to catch it?”
“Watch.”
She tossed the wingstick straight toward an open space behind the weapons shop. The stick spun around like an axle flying through the air, creating a shrill whistling noise.
“We could have cut the sound, but hey—let it shriek. Scares the hell out of the muties.”
The spinning stick started to curve around, and then Raine saw that its small engine kicked in and the stick got a burst of speed right at the bottom of its trajectory.
“Okay. Here she comes.”
The stick came flying back to Loosum, looking as if it might slice off her head.
“Will be just about … gliding … when it reaches me.”
The stick came back precisely to the point where she threw it, her right hand—gloved—open, ready to pluck it.
“Got to catch it. That’s the fun part.”
“Fun? Looks damn—”
She had reached up and closed on the center of the axle, and the stick stopped.
“There. Got it. And it’s ready to go again.”
“My turn?”
“No. Not yet. A few more throws by me. Just try to see how to gauge distance, strength of the throw. First … over that barrel there.”
Like a sports star, she made the stick swing perfectly around the barrel.
“Now a bit farther. Right up to the door to that supply shed … Hope no one comes out.”
A stronger throw, Loosum’s eyes locked on the target.
And again the stick started to loop around just as it reached the wooden porch. The stick came within inches of nicking the door, but safely curved around.
Another perfect catch.
“Okay,
now
your turn, Ark man. Start by aiming at something close.”
Raine took the stick, a bit unsure. It’s not as if he had ever thrown a boomerang. He imagined that the Aborigines would take months learning how to throw. He had just these minutes.
He tried to model what Loosum showed him.
“No.” She grabbed his arm, lowering it. Then took his hand and gave it a small twist. “There. Nice and level. One smooth …
move.
But flat, like the horizon. Keep your arm nice and flat.”
“Got it.”
Raine tossed it. The stick immediately moved out of its nice and level spin. It wobbled upward, then began curving around, and then started to race back, not to Raine, but to the ground.
Loosum ran ahead and caught the stick before it would have hit.
When she turned she was laughing.
“Takes some time.”
“I can see that. Don’t think I have much time.”
“C’mon, a few more. Show me how smart they were. Way back when.”
Raine started throwing.
And each throw got better and better.
It wasn’t long before he was sending the stick around the barrel, looking almost as smooth as Loosum’s throws.
“Okay.” She took the stick from him. “Here’s the killer secret of the stick. You throw this switch … right here. Now it’s set to send a targeted explosion shooting from each of its three arms. Like …”
“A pinwheel?”
She shook her head, confused.
Pinwheel. Fireworks, carnivals. Kids’ toys.
All gone. Might as well be talking about dinosaurs.
“Can’t do an explosion here. But when you use this … out there. You turn on the wing. And then send it flying around whatever you want—”
“To explode.” Raine laughed.
“Right. See. Dad told you you’d love it. Now, we can—”
Dan’s voice rang out from behind them.
“Raine. You’re all set. Got to get going, friend. Enforcers could be here anytime.”
And Raine gave Loosum a look, a smile. He almost said:
Hope to see you again …
But somehow—in this world—such a thought seemed crazy.
Raine sat in the buggy, now riding a few inches higher.
“We put extra ply on the tires,” Dan said. “We do it ourselves. Kind of our secret process. Got some food back here. The ammo. And I see my daughter has taught you the ways of the stick.”
He caught Dan looking over at him, maybe gauging if he had any interest in Loosum. As beautiful as she was, no doubt she was also a handful.
And probably damn good in a fight.
But that’s all he had time for at the moment.
“Nice little weapon.”
“Yeah. Might just save your life.”
Dan looked at the open gate, his people standing by to let him out.
“Look, there’s a note to Clayton … in the—what did you call it?”
Raine laughed. “Glove compartment.”
“Right. You can read it. It’s the best we can do. Map, too. Once there, it will be up to you. It’s not the Wasteland.”
“You make it sound worse.”
“Worse, better? Hard to say. I like it here. Wish you could stay.”
“Thanks. And Dan …” he looked at Loosum at her father’s side, “Loosum—thanks for everything. I think I’d be dead now without you.”
“You may still be. But somehow, I don’t think you go down that easy.”
Raine stuck out his hand, the habit still ingrained in him.
Dan looked at the hand, grinned, and took it.
A firm shake, then a release. A custom from the past, reborn. Raine did the same to Loosum, who looked perplexed with the gesture.
But when she took his hand it was no girl’s hand, but strong.
Not surprising.
“Okay, Raine, time to get moving.”
Dan nodded to the guards, and they rolled away the metal gate.
“Travel safely. Or as safe as you can.”
Raine nodded.
Time to go indeed.
The unknown ahead.
He began pulling out of the settlement, and he didn’t look back until it was the merest outline on the horizon.
T
he rocky hills and jagged cliffs of the Wastelands changed into a flat plain of rubble and sun, with nothing on the horizon.
A few times Raine checked the map and tapped his globe compass—a far cry from GPS—to make sure he was heading in the right direction to the city of Wellspring.
And it seemed to be, though he would be reassured by seeing someone else heading this way—or anything at all on the horizon.
But the map showed that he still had a lot of ground to cover, especially if he was to reach the city by nightfall.
He imagined that you didn’t want to be out here when the sun went down.
It didn’t feel any too safe being out here now.
He was well beyond the radio range of Dan’s settlement. It’s
not that he had anything to say, but another human voice would be comforting.
So thinking it might help, being out here all alone, he started talking to himself.
An hour later he stopped to pour more gas into the tank.
Dan had given him four large containers, nearly fifty gallons. Enough—he said—to get him to Wellspring.
He looked up, the brilliant sun overhead.
Raine had wrapped a cloth around his exposed neck and lower face, even though that made him sweat. The material was sodden where it touched him, but he guessed it was a good idea to keep the sun off his skin.
Did it feel different? Was the sun here, now … any different?
Clouds seemed scarce. Was there ever a rainy season?
Then he said it aloud. “Ever rain here?”
He laughed. “Rain, Raine.”