As I Walk These Broken Roads (33 page)

Wentworth nodded, though Raxx couldn
’
t see this, and though about what he
’
d said.
“
So how
’
d you get out of it?
”

“
You know, that
’
s something I ask myself. Could I have escaped if the right books and people hadn
’
t been there to help me? I like to think so, but I don
’
t really know. Maybe in the end we
’
re all nothing more than the products of our environment.

“
My uncle
’
s helped a lot – Uncle Xavier. He gave me my first non-parable book. At the time, reading wasn
’
t forbidden, but it wasn
’
t exactly encouraged either, you know what I mean? Uncle Xavier didn
’
t care, though. I always thought he was funny growing up. He was always cheerful, but my parents and lots of the other adults didn
’
t like him. When I was young I thought it was because he wasn
’
t serious enough for them, the way an adult is supposed to be, but looking back at it now it was because he didn
’
t really believe in the superstition. Not that he broke from it, like I did, he just didn
’
t worry that much – and he wouldn
’
t let it stop him from collecting his own library.

“
The man really loved books. He mostly collected fiction, and that
’
s what I got most of my education from. He even gave me my first copy of that book I bought you –
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
– I was probably too young at the time, I didn
’
t take care of it and it fell apart, but I
’
ve got it all down in my head, more or less.
”

“
I
’
ve almost finished it.
”

“
Oh yeah? What do you think?
”

Wentworth chewed his lip.
“
You know, when you picked it up I thought it was a joke – a joke about how we me
t
. But now… I
’
ve got a few thoughts, but they
’
re not sorted out yet. Ask me again when I
’
ve finished.
”

“
Okay. Anyway, thanks to my Uncle I started asking a lot of questions. At first my parents and the pastor were happy about it. I tried to help by figuring out better tools for harvesting the grain, or a better pulley for the well, all that stuff, but that only seemed to make it worse. They were concerned with my
‘
materialism,
’
they said. You know, it
’
s ironic, really. What they saw as my
‘
materialism
’
was really me trying to understand how the world works – what the underlying rules are, the theoretical; asking
‘
Why?
’
It was anything but materialistic. But they didn
’
t see it that way.
”

“
That
’
s what drove me to start exploring. Playing with old tech lying around home just got me in trouble, so I
’
d walk and think. That
’
s how I managed to find this baby here,
”
he patted the dashboard.

“
The problems started when my Uncle bought this book from one of the merchants that came through occasionally, a guy who worked all the smaller communities, without an established trade route. He sold knickknacks, not hard supplies. We had most of what we needed to survive.

“
The book he sold him was called
Origin of the Species
, written by a guy called Darwin. I never got to read it, but my Uncle told me about some parts – that
’
s where I got those ideas that I was telling you about back in Blackstock. The way he described it… it was just elegant; exciting. But see, that was the problem – my Uncle got all excited, and started talking to everybody about it.
”

Raxx paused for a second and looked down at the steering wheel, a bitterness in his eyes.
“
All he wanted anyone to do was read it. He wasn
’
t even trying to argue with them, he just wanted them to share his excitement. The damned thing
’
s so obvious once you understand the principles… have you ever
heard of
it?
”

Wentworth nodded,
“
I
never read
Origin
but I read some derivate works. The Regiment had a lot of stuff buried in its archives that wasn’t official curriculum. And you’re right, the theory is elegant
.
”

Raxx nodded,
“
I
’
m glad to see you know what I mean. That
’
s what makes it so tragic. He was just trying to share something beautiful with them… but they wouldn
’
t even listen. They just had to keep believing…. I don
’
t know, whatever their myths and magic were.
”

He took a long puff on his cigarette,
“
My Uncle was put to death for heresy – a lot like what Slayer did to that kid, when we were watching. That was when I figured it was time to go. By then I didn
’
t even know who anyone was anymore. My world was growing, while they were in this tiny little box. I
’
d stopped believing years ago, but it was his
–
murder
–
that made me realize that.
”

He took a deep breath and pulled out another c
igarillo
.
“
Excommunicated, man… everything that I was, everyone that I knew. I
’
d become the polar opposite. Not even the polar opposite, I was a book written in a different language. I guess that
’
s why tech is so important to me. If I can start to understand that maybe I
’
ll be able to understand myself.
‘
Cause sometimes I worry I
’
m going insane.
”

He lit the cigarillo and stared out at the scattering rain. Wentworth checked his cigarettes. They were damp, but lightable. He pulled one out, delicately.

“Parents?”

“Still alive, I think. They’d hand me over to the priests if they knew what I did with this truck – let alone the rest of it.”

Betrayer
, that what Jenkins had called Raxx in the interview room. He realized, now, that the hurt on the man
’
s face had been real. The term could just as well be levelled at himself. Raxx wasn
’
t the only one who
’
d been
‘
excommunicated.
’
But that didn
’
t really matter a damn.

Raxx wasn
’
t looking for empathy or validation. He wasn
’
t a subordinate either, it wasn
’
t Wentworth
’s
place to help crystallise his thoughts, to act as a historian and interpret his own past to him. Shared experience didn
’
t really matter. There was a deeper reason they
’
d been acting as partners for this long. Past be damned, it was the present that mattered.

“
You and I think differently. I
’
ve noticed that when you
’
re explaining things, your thought patterns are in some ways opposite to my own, as if you
’
re attacking the same problem from a completely different angle. But somehow we both arrive at the same conclusion.
”
He puffed his cigarette.
“
Raxx, I
’
m pretty sure you would have arrived at your present stance regardless of who was around you. Because I
’
m standing here too, with a completely different background. For a long time I wondered if I was crazy… but then I figured that if some Mechanic I just met agrees with me, and his reasoning
’
s different, but not contradictory, well…
”
He looked over at the man,
and the
reflected light glinting off of his piercings.
“
Raxx, I don
’
t think either of us are crazy. We
’
ve got the other one to prove it.
”

Raxx drove as if the road were his enemy. A scowl creased his features while the transmission hummed low in fifth gear. He leaned back in his seat, staring out at the shimmer on the horizon.

The dashed yellow lines still remained in places, flashing beneath his truck
’
s tires as he drove with a ground eating pace. The asphalt was bleached a light grey, and over the years the water had got in, cracking it open during the winter. Some patches had reverted to loose gravel, demanding that Raxx downshift and put both hands on the wheel. Prewar tar patches were still visible, filling in ancient cracks. They
’
d given up less of their original colour to
the
rays of the sun. Over the years enough dirt and grit had embedded itself
in places
to support plant life. After last
night’s
storm, bands of green criss-crossed the road far into the distance.

He eased the vehicle left and right, trying to find the smoothest route and ever conscious of the trailer
’
s mass behind him; whenever a pothole caught him by surprise, shaking the cab, he
’
d gun the engine and try to shift the trailer
’
s wheels out of
it
s
path.

A hundred meters ahead drove Wentworth. Despite the cool air his jacket was undone and flapping in the wind in an attempt to dry out the waterlogged leather.
Free of the vehicle’s cab
, he was
better
able to scout out the surface. Raxx took his cues off him, preparing to make a similar manoeuvre whenever the man swerved to avoid an as-of-yet unseen rough patch on the blacktop.

All four of them were enjoying the sun
’
s return.
The truck’s cabin was less cramped when they were moving.

The scenery had been changing ever since they
’
d found their way back onto a proper highway. The colours of scrub and fields were changing to the washed out browns and greys of the old civilisation. They passed by roadside truck-stops, still advertising fast food chains, fuel, cigarettes
,
and
the
coffee that had been the hallmark of the trucking industry. Now the signs were faded like
the
cheap, transient plastic
which they were
. The letters on the poster-boards announcing the fuel-prices were askew or missing, with many
years’ worth
of condensation leaving the sign
’
s outer layer covered in a white film, obscuring the message.
Other ads,
announcing deals-of-the-week
,
were fallen over and flaking tiny bits of paint and plastic everywhere.

More and more refuse lined the roads on their
approach;
the last generation
’
s garbage lived on. Earlier Raxx had noted a coffee cup which must have been lying on its side for decades before getting recently blown over. The sunward side was an unreadable, a mishmash of sky-blue and yellow. The downward side was a vivid brown and red, the sharp lines of a logo still discernible.

Along the horizon, off to the southwest, the jagged fingers of concrete towers could be seen. The rain had washed away the perpetual dusty haze, leaving the sky a vivid blue. One particular concrete finger stood up higher than the rest of them, thinner, its end jagged as if the top had snapped off.

A shudder ran down Raxx
’
s back. The ancient city looked like the ribs of a decayed animal.

As they got closer to their destination the buildings along the side of the road began to obscure the empty towers to the southwest. Stone walls three meters high lined the road, marred by the marks of ancient gunfire; behind them tracks of houses. They were entering what had one of the Golden Horseshoe
’
s many suburbs
–
the great crescent of civilization surrounding Lake Ontario had concentrated all of its industry and commerce towards the waterfront. Those rich enough had moved to the outskirts, encroaching upon the farmland and building gated communities during the anarchic years leading up to the War. Even now, their tenants gone, each block seemed to loom on the side of the road. The communities within hidden from those that journeyed past. The only buildings visible as the gates flashed past were those housing the minor businesses which served the people in those communities. Grocery stores, flower shops, and high-end clothing stores. All the accoutrements that might be needed
,
shipped to within a kilometre of those that desired them.

For a moment Raxx was struck with a mental image. The great civilisation, laid out like a blueprint, with distribution lines of different colours for each product and service. Little numbers listed the frequencies and speed of each branch off the main trunk, a great logistical machine keeping millions clothed, fed, and happy. Then an atomic spark had burst in the heart, and
quickening into poison along the
veins.

Maria and Vince chatted on happily about what lay ahead in Sauga, but a wave of despair had swept over Raxx. It was like seeing a grandfather clock which had tipped over and shattered on the floor, springs and gears flying everywhere. Shattered glass. How could it ever be reconstructed again now that the clock-smiths were gone? Who could fit all of these pieces into their head?

Up ahead on his motorcycle Wentworth didn
’
t share the man
’
s gloom. The cold air cut through him like a knife, his fingers were numb, and his teeth were chattering, but he was overcome with a sense of light-heartedness. The pain of leaving Patricia lay behind him, bittersweet. He
’
d made a clean break.

Sometimes he though
t
his life was a series of clean breaks.

A sudden pot hole crept up on him, and he swerved to the left narrowly avoiding it. The motorcycle continued thrumming
beneath
him.

Even the best journey was stressful, and the rain
storm had made for a bad night
. Now, so close to their destination, relief swept over him. His guard duties wouldn
’
t be required there. He loved riding, but it was going to be good to stretch his legs soon and down a few pints.

Up ahead the road rose up, passing over a two lane freeway. An old signpost labelled it as the
‘
407
’
. The overpass rose up on columns and must have been made out of better materials than the rest of the road, for it showed few signs of wear. Or maybe it was just that the shifting earth under the roads everywhere else had been replaced with thicker clay. Either way it made for a smooth ride when he reached it, he dropped the engine down a gear on the way up the incline. On either side the freeway stretched out to the horizon. He wanted to throttle her up, but he couldn
’
t see what lay on the other side of the rise so he remained cautious.

He crested without incident, and could see the next overpass a klick
-
and
-
a
-
half further up.
Grey buildings with black, empty sockets for eyes stared
at him from either side
as he passed. Wind gusted through their windows. The closer they got to the Horseshoe, the more naked earth he saw; black and dusty, with nothing growing on it. Ahead on the road lay the forgotten hulks of several automobiles,
stopped on the road or parked in
lots.

Behind him he heard the deeper pitch of Raxx
’
s truck as it crested the rise. Raxx caught up with him, and the two of them rode together, side by side.

Wentworth signalled a stop just before reaching the next overpass, this one reading
‘
401 Highway,
’
and they both came to a rest with Raxx on his left. Vince, riding shotgun, leaned forward to look out at Wentworth.

“
You sure this is safe?
”

“
Aye, this is the route all the companies take.
”

Wentworth examined the highway ahead for a moment.
“
It
’
s just that there
’
re walls on either side of it.
”

“
Not on the far side, lad. The Brahmin in Mississauga tore them all up to build a city wall. You can get off the highway in most places.
”

“
Give me a sec,
”
Wentworth rode up the onramp cautiously, peering down the highway in both directions. After a second he motioned for Raxx to come up to him.

“
She
’
s good?
”
asked Vince.

Wentworth nodded, a wide smile across his face.

“
What
’
s up?
”
asked Raxx.

“
The highway; she
’
s perfect. The road
’
s in perfect condition
,
man
!
Let
’
s see what these babies can do.
”

With that he throttled up his engine, and threw her into first, jolting up the last bit of the onramp. Raxx laughed, and pressed down on the accelerator, squealing his tires. Within moments he
’
d caught up with him.

Wentworth had been right; there wasn
’
t a blemish to be seen. A few vehicles remained, pulled off to either side, but along the center the highway was free and clear. They each ratcheted through the gears
, needles turning,
until they
’
d reached one-forty.

Everyone in the truck
’
s cab
was laughing, giddy at the speed. Wentworth
’
s grin could be made out despite the headwind the man was facing. With each tilt of the wheel Raxx could feel the weight of the trailer behind him, tugging him to the side. He made a game of it, keeping the vehicle under control despite the drag from it and the wind which he could sense,
pressing
the vehicle to
either
side. Beside him Wentworth wove in between the few bits of debris which he found. Raxx noticed the odd grating cut into the asphalt along the side of the highway, and decided to drive over it to see what would happen. A tremor ran through the entire vehicle, vibrating it, and causing him to release a grunt of surprise. In the back seat Maria broke into a fit of giggling.

Ahead was a cloverleaf of roads where the 401 met the 407 they
’
d passed earlier
,
twisting south. Thinking fast
,
Wentworth located the proper ramp, while Vince pointed it out to Raxx. They curved about, slowing down to ninety, and were heading south now on the 407.

They kept blasting down the highway, making the most of this opportunity. They made another left at the next cloverleaf, and ended up headed east on the 403. Soon their destination was in sight. The stone blocks alongside the highway had once served as noise dissipaters for the residential communities nestled within, but now they served as a protective barrier for the Saugan Vedas. Barbed wire was coiled at their top with broken glass. At the highway
’
s exit was a chain-link gate on wheels. It was closed, and set of dragon
’
s teeth laid in front of also blocked the path. A small guard shack made of sheet metal was nestled in against the wall.

As they neared two guards stepped out of the building and watched them approach. Wentworth remembered Vince saying they were called
‘
Kshatriya.
’
They were both dressed in black combat uniforms with crimson sashes and turbans.
They held longarms in a bored grip, on their belts were long, cruel looking knives with a noticeable bend halfway down the blade.
‘
Kukris
’
,
he thought they were called. As they drove up the off-ramp one of them held up his hand, indicating for them to stop. Wentworth and Raxx brought their vehicles to a halt a short distance from the dragon
’
s teeth, and Vince got out to sort out their entrance.

While Vince spoke with the Kshatriya, Wentworth continued to examine them. They didn
’
t move with any sort of military bearing he could recognize, though it was clear that they had a rank structure. A third Kshatriya had exited the shack to speak with Vince, and this one had gold markings sewn into his sash. Though he couldn
’
t interpret them, Wentworth guessed this made him the commander.