Under Dark Sky Law (17 page)

She climbed back out of the cabin and buried
her face in her hands for a minute, pushing away the pain she was
feeling from all the inflamed skin and fighting a sudden wave of
intense nausea. When she looked back up again, she scanned the
terrain in all directions, looking for landmarks for a clue about
which direction she would need to head in. The sun was getting
lower, and the acquisition of the laser was a real benefit—weird
shit sometimes came out in the desert at night. She had the option
of trying to make it somewhere on foot, or digging into one of the
cargo holds and waiting for some kind of a rescue party to make its
way out there, but that could be days. Eventually one of the domes
would realize that they had lost communications and that their
precious cargo hadn’t reached its destination on time. But she was
in one of the dead zones—too far between dome areas for any non-pit
dweller to travel to safely. It could be days or even weeks before
an official search party was established. Her own crew would figure
out something was wrong before that, but knowing her luck, a roving
band of skeletons would find her before anyone was able to make it
out there.

When she had almost completed a 360 degree
scan of the surroundings, movement on the horizon to the west
caught her attention. It was hard to tell if it was just a big
cloud of steam, possibly from the storm’s waters evaporating in the
remains of the day’s heat, or if it was smoke, but there was a big
cloud of something in the direction of Yuma. She squinted, trying
to get a better read on what was going on over there, and noticed
additional movement. She had to be imagining it, but it looked like
a big group of people spread out across the sands. She shook her
head, wondering if she’d damaged something in her head during the
incident, but as minutes went by she was more convinced that it was
in fact a group of people moving in her direction. What the fuck.
This was not an area you walked on foot unless something
catastrophic happened. Not even marauders liked to frequent this
area because of its reputation for volatile weather patterns and
lack of colony settlements.

Her eyes were glued to the movement in the
distance—the group of people continued to come into focus, and the
cloud rising up out of Yuma kept expanding. It was getting
blacker—it had to be smoke, and a lot of it for it to be visible
from that far away. Dome fires were almost unheard of, and she
couldn’t think of what else in the area would have enough fuel to
burn so vigorously. What in the hell was going on? Typically desert
storms were violent and short lived, but perhaps the storm had
traveled far enough and lasted long enough to damage the structure
of the dome. Yuma’s dome was small, but it was newer, and most of
the new domes were constructed to be nearly impervious to weather
or other incidental environmental damages. She continued puzzling
over what the fuck could be going on over there.

Meanwhile, the group of people trudging over
the sands were definitely headed in her direction, possibly hoping
to raid the upended crawlers. At least she had the intact laser.
After debating whether it was worth trying to dig through some of
the cargo, or if she should just save her energy for the conflict,
she decided it would be nice to at least try and extract some kind
of clothing or additional weapons from the supplies. Both crawlers
were jacked up and partially buried in the sand, making the task
difficult, if not impossible.

Using the technique she’d tried using
earlier, she wedged as much of her upper body through the opening
in the second crawler as she could and blindly fished around in the
dark. At least she was pretty sure they weren’t carrying any
incendiary devices or other volatile items that might explode if
she grabbed the wrong thing. Pretty sure at least. She came out
with more water, a long piece of black fabric, and a big stick that
looked like the bottom part of some garden tool. Not the best
things she could have found, considering the kinds of fantastic
items that sometimes ended up on her cargo trains, but at least
they would all be useful for something. She used the water douse
herself again to soothe some of the continuing burn from the rain.
It had been awhile since she’d had any water to drink either, and
she made sure to hydrate well. Nothing would kill you in the desert
faster than running out of water, and she was thankful for policies
that mandated a certain amount of water that had to be present on
any cargo runs.

She tore small strips from fabric and tied
them around some of the bigger wounds, if nothing else to keep more
sand from getting inside the cuts. Using the remainder of the black
cloth, she fashioned a crude sort of toga that would help keep some
of the sun off. The stick would be a good back up weapon, and could
possibly help her dig more of the doors out of the sand and get
better access to the rest of the cargo hold. What she could really
use would be some tools and wiring to try and get the radio working
again so she could get some help out there to pull her ass out of
the fire.

The smoke coming out of Yuma had spread even
further just in the short period of time that she’d been digging
around inside the crawlers, and she knew that something
outrageously bad had happened. At least she could tell that the
group headed towards her weren’t skeletons, at least not uniformed
ones. It wasn’t exactly productive, but watching the figures come
into focus gave her something else to focus on besides her
throbbing skin.

They looked like refugees—they were dirty and
shambling, traveling with great difficulty, except for one man that
was walking in front of the group. He had short black hair that was
longer in the front, and a dusty dark trench coat with some kind of
satchel slung over his shoulder. He was striding purposefully out
in front of the group with the aid of some kind of stick or staff.
He rallied the group, and they began calling and waving their hands
in her direction, screaming for help. Great. Just what she needed—a
group of stragglers to try and rescue. Well, she had news for them.
There would be no rescue coming from her direction, not with the
radios down. At least they weren’t outwardly hostile, but
desperation took hold quickly in the desert, and you never could be
certain when someone might turn on you when survival was on the
line.

“Who goes there?” she called when they were
close enough to comprehend actual words. She raised her own staff
and made herself look even bigger than she already was, as though
they were an animal she needed to intimidate. She must have been
quite a sight, like some odd tribal desert dweller, a giant half
naked woman with a wilted neon green Mohawk shaking sticks and
lasers in their direction.

The man held his hand up, signaling for the
rest of the stragglers to wait while he came just outside of easy
striking distance.

“I’ve got a group of survivors here from the
Yuma dome. We’re trying to make it to Gila Bend,” he said.

Dome people out in the desert? Shit—she
looked over his shoulder and saw that they were dirty with black
ash, and most of them were panting, struggling to remain standing.
Many of them had already collapsed into the sand, some of them
laying so still that they may have already surrendered to the cruel
air. However, the man in the trench coat wasn’t having any trouble
at all, and in fact didn’t seem to be distressed in any way. Who
the fuck was this guy?

“You’re from the pits,” she said as a
statement.

“No, actually,” he said simply. “It looks
like you’ve run into trouble yourself. Perhaps we can work together
and travel to Gila Bend. There’s strength in numbers.”

She squinted her eyes at him, trying to
figure out how someone that wasn’t a pit dweller could be faring so
well out in a dead zone. “A haboob and a super storm cell collided
and fucked up my crawlers,” she said, tossing a thumb behind her at
the wreckage. “Radios are down, and the entrances to the cargo hold
are blocked, so I don’t know how useful I’d be to your group. You
may as well keep trucking.”

The man smiled and motioned towards her laser
with his chin. “I obviously can’t force you into letting us join
you, but I think I can help you out. These are dangerous times to
be wandering the desert alone,” he said.

“It’s always a dangerous time to be wandering
this desert. Look buddy, you wanna just take a time out for a
second and tell me why the fuck you dragged all these dome dwellers
out here? You get a kick out of watching people’s lungs explode?”
she said and thrust the staff in his direction.

He shook his head. “I guess you missed the
news. Yuma is gone,” he said calmly but there was genuine sadness
in his blue eyes.

Her mouth dropped open and she didn’t bother
trying to hide her surprise. “Um, what?” she said, lacking words to
say something more intelligent.

“Can’t you see the smoke spreading out behind
us? There was an attack on the Yuma dome this afternoon. I’m still
not totally sure what happened, but I’m guessing there were
multiple charges set around the dome, and the waves of storms this
afternoon helped cover the explosions. It was already too late for
the Phoenix military to respond. It was total chaos, and I didn’t
want to stick around and find out who was behind the attack. Me and
this group of people decided it was a better risk to strike out for
Gila Bend. I don’t think there will be many survivors out of Yuma
when everything is said and done. I didn’t force anyone to come
with me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said.

She just stood there for another minute or
two, processing what he had said, staring at the billowing smoke
that had engulfed the western sky. “Jesus Christ,” she said.

Something like this hadn’t happened since the
early riots, back when everything was chaos and anger and security
around the domes hadn’t been very stable. Her mind raced through
waves of thoughts and problems that this would cause. She liked
Yuma—she had good relations with both the pits ruler and the dome
officials, and it had been one of the few domes that hadn’t been
very difficult to deal with. Then there was what it meant on a
broader scale. If it was the same person or organization behind the
skeleton attacks, then this was more serious than some minor acts
of civil disobedience. This could be the beginning of a true war.
Even though this problem was obviously the bigger concern, her mind
ultimately focused on one final implication: Trina. If Yuma was in
ruins, then there was no way for her to get the Ketocillin she
needed to survive.

Her hands curled into fists and she clenched
her teeth. “Goddamn it! Are you absolutely certain?” she said,
knowing it was a stupid question. A whole dome blowing up was
something hard to miss, and it would take a major disaster like
that to get dome dwellers wandering around waiting to slowly die in
the desert’s toxic air.

He ran a gloved hand through his long hair, a
look of sadness showing on his face. “I’m truly sorry—this isn’t
something anyone ever thought could happen,” he said. “I’m assuming
that you’re a cargo runner from the pits.”

She sighed, trying to get her thoughts
together enough to formulate a plan. “Yeah, you probably know me.
I’m Xero,” she said.

He squinted at her, and recognition flashed
in his eyes. “Ah, Xero, the Tucson pit leader. We’ve never met, but
yes, I’ve heard of you and seen you in various transmissions
before. Your reputation precedes you,” he said.

She nodded, satisfied that she wouldn’t need
to intimidate him into understanding how dangerous she was. “Good,
at least you know where I’m coming from them. If you partner with
me, you should know what to expect. I don’t tolerate bullshit, and
I don’t fuck around,” she said.

“I also know that you don’t give help
freely—but I assure you, I can give as good as I get. In fact, I
think I can get us back up and on the road again, if you don’t
mind,” he said. It was a nice way of saying she was quid pro quo
regardless of the circumstances. He wasn’t wrong. You didn’t get to
where she was by doing thankless favors just for the fuck of
it.

She looked over her shoulder at the dead
crawlers and then back at the ragtag stragglers that had all fallen
into the sands behind him. “You think we can get the crawlers back
on the road with just those sickly fucks? Do you know how many tons
each of these things weighs?” she said.

“Trust me, I have a plan,” he said and
grinned. What a weird motherfucker. She kinda liked him—there was a
sharp intelligence and wit that she sensed behind his eyes, and he
wasn’t bad looking for that matter. He had the hard but confident
look of a person that had been through things that most people
couldn’t dream of, and knew he could take just about whatever life
threw at them.

“You got a name, stranger?” she said.

“You can call me Radar,” he said.

She thought for awhile, scanning her memory
for anyone matching his name and description, but she came up
empty.

He chuckled, watching her try and puzzle him
out. “I wouldn’t expect you to know me,” he said. “I’m usually
pretty discreet.”

He had to be some kind of independent
mercenary or smuggler. No one else would have had such an
easy-going confidence while in the middle of a literal disaster. He
said he was a dome dweller too, but was obviously having no
problems whatsoever dealing with the air out in the dead zone.

“Are you one of Xed’s men?” she said,
wondering if he had known there was going to be a convoy headed in
this direction because of Xed’s intel. It would have made sense
given Xed’s known ability to hide flats and pits dwellers in plain
sight within the dome infrastructures.

“No. I’m a free agent,” he said, tacitly
confirming her earlier suspicion that he was probably an
independent mercenary or smuggler. In some ways it made her trust
his abilities even more, given that it was not an easy time to be
an independent operator. It was nearly impossible to get anything
done without being connected to one of the major cartels.