Chapter 14
JAKE
It was a solemn farewell. No one wanted to leave, but Lorn was right; they were only wasting resources that the Stewards would need. The scavengers had already signed their own death warrants. If they didn’t receive a lethal dose of radiation in the desolate lands, they would from the metals they had come to steal. There was no need for the mission to stay.
The next week passed uneventfully. Everyone worked mechanically, and they soon fell back into the routine.
“I miss Rowan the most,” Lexa sighed. She and Amy were heading back from the showers at yet another almost identical fueling station. “Though I’d give almost anything just to have Daisy yell at me. I know I leave home a lot, but not like this.”
Every night for over a week, it’s been the same thing
, Amy thought sourly.
A simple “I miss them” should be enough, shouldn’t it? Next, Lexa is going to start into a graphic account of Rowan in bed.
“Can we talk about something other than your family?” Amy asked.
Lexa sighed and then brightened. “Hey, did you see that Jameson at the Stewards’s? He was cute. Of course, Joseph is totally hot, even if he is old.”
“They’re monks,” Amy said, scandalized.
“So?” Lexa replied, “It’s not like they take vows of celibacy.”
“They don’t?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I was rather looking forward to getting there, but then with the circumstances and everything, nobody was in the mood. So sad.”
“Correction,” Amy said. “Can we talk about something other than sex?”
“Can a girl help it if she’s horny?”
“You are as bad as the guys, I swear.”
“What’s wrong with liking sex?” Lexa asked.
“It just shouldn’t be like that,” Amy said, embarrassed.
“Well, how should it be?”
Images of the love stories her sister read went through Amy’s mind. She quickly rejected that notion as well. “How the hell should I know?” she burst out. “I was raised on the hick ranch, remember? All I know is that your incessant talk about sex is . . .”
Wrong? That sounds ridiculous. Tempting? I don’t even want to think about that.
“Driving me nuts.”
“Oh, so I am supposed to become celibate because you can’t face your sexuality?” Lexa huffed.
“Fine, go sleep with anyone you want. I’m not stopping you,” Amy shot back.
“Maybe I will.” Lexa stomped off.
Amy sulked through dinner and most of the evening by the fire. Lexa sat on the opposite side and flirted with Mark.
Not that asshole,
Amy thought darkly,
anybody but him.
She glared at Lexa. She knew her face was burning, but she didn’t care. Lexa glared back out of the corner of her eye, and then returned her attention to Mark.
Amy got up from the fire early and stomped off to the tent she still shared with Lexa. She lay down, but sleep eluded her.
The camp fell quiet as soon as the darkness fully set in. She heard Lexa’s voice as she and Mark talked. She could not hear what they were saying, but she heard Lexa’s voice rising and Mark’s deepening.
After a moment’s dark satisfaction, her anger wavered. No one deserved what Mark was capable of. She had just convinced herself to go out and investigate when she heard Mark’s distinctive voice go “Oof.” There was a heavy thud as a body hit the ground.
Boots stomped up to the tent. Amy feigned sleep as Lexa threw herself in and into her sleeping bag. After an uncomfortable silence, Amy rolled over. Lexa’s eyes were open and wet.
“Don’t you dare say you told me so,” Lexa said, pointing her finger. Amy could only shake her head. Then Lexa was in her arms crying.
“I am sorry,” Amy said over and over.
Finally drying her eyes, Lexa looked up, “
I’m
sorry. Sorry I didn’t believe you about what an asshole he is, sorry I goaded you about my family, sorry about everything.”
The next morning Mark smirked as she watched him walking rather stiffly, glaring at Lexa. He said nothing and neither did Lexa.
Good for her.
“Good falls,” Spider told Amy as they headed back toward camp. “Your break-falls are really improving.”
Amy smiled. After three weeks of regular practice, she still felt choppy and rough, especially compared to the fluid movements of the other two women. She was improving, but she still envied them.
“I am nowhere as good as you,” Amy replied.
“She’s had fifteen years of practice,” Lexa said.
“Yes, but you haven’t, and you are way better than I am.”
“Am not.”
“She’s done yoga and dance,” Spider said to Amy. “She’s more flexible, is all.”
“I just want to be good enough that no one can overpower me,” Amy said.
“And you’re getting there,” Spider said, encouragement in her tone. “You are progressing as fast as I have seen any student go, but there are no shortcuts.”
It had been two weeks since they left the Stewards. The fueling stations were closer together now. They passed many abandoned towns and occasionally saw other traffic on the road.
“How much longer do you reckon?” Kurt asked for the hundredth time as they joined the men at breakfast.
“Another day or so,” Lexa replied.
“What are the Cyclers anyway?” Luke asked. “And what are they like?”
“It’s short for recyclers,” Lorn explained. “They make their living recycling technology from the old cities. There is not much left, but they are an inventive bunch.”
“They are very barbaric,” Lexa sneered. She looked around at the men. “You should fit right in,” she added. Amy fought back a giggle.
“They are not so bad,” Spider put in. “They live closer to the old cities, so they tend to stick closer to the old ways, that’s all. They use more technology and live more like pre-collapse society.”
“Lexa’s right,” Lorn added. “You should fit in just fine.”
“That should be okay then,” Mark said.
“What sort of technology do they have?” Luke asked.
“Oh, all sorts,” Lorn said. “Of course, most of the obviously useful stuff has been scavenged long ago. They still do a brisk trade in converting old machines to new purposes.”
“Yeah,” Spider put in. “We Greenbowes were heavily invested in electric vehicles even before the collapse, but many tribes had to survive on old golf carts until EV production picked up afterwards.”
“What’s a golf cart?” Shawn asked.
“It’s a game, dummy,” Patrick said. “My grandfather used to play.” Patrick gave a brief description of the game.
“The point is,” Lorn interrupted. “That they drove these little electric carts around. Now a cart can’t haul much, but it is better than nothing.”
“And the cyclers can provide everything we need, right?” Luke asked.
“They say so,” Lexa answered, “or a workable alternative. They have lots of stuff, despite what Lorn said.”
Lorn looked indignant. “It is a well-known fact that they are running out.”
“In ten, twenty years,” Lexa replied.
“That is still running out,” Lorn insisted.
“He’s right,” Luke said. “When we get back, we need to start immediate discussions about obtaining more renewable technologies like the Greenbowes have.” Luke looked around at the faces staring at him.
“What?” he said defensively. “Okay, maybe this supply run will last us another thirty years, maybe not. Either way, we eventually will have to come back down. Who knows if the parts will all be available a second time? Besides, now that we know it’s over, and there is a stable civilization down here, why shouldn’t we start trade and whatnot?”
“Let him lead one mission, and he talks like he is in charge of the whole ranch,” Patrick said.
“I am not,” Luke insisted, flabbergasted.
“Seems like he is capable enough, with a few more years’ experience,” Lorn commented. Luke went about three different shades of red.
“Like hell that pip squeak is going to oust old Amos Deaton,” Mark growled.
“I cannot comment on how you select leaders,” Lorn replied, “only on the suitability of this one.”
“You don’t understand us at all,” Patrick sneered.
“Guilty as charged.” Lorn said with a slight bow.
Two days later, they rolled into the largest town any of them had ever seen. There were massive buildings on either side of the road. In the distance, even taller buildings reared up, masses of steel and glass many stories high.
“Skyscrapers,” Lexa told Amy as she gawked, “from before the collapse, obviously. Only specially trained cyclers go near them anymore. Between years of neglect and looting, most are not terribly stable.”
“I would love to see one close up,” Amy said. “Or better, from on top. I can remember being allowed up into the second floor of the community hall back home as a kid. You could see the whole valley. I can’t begin to imagine what the view from one of those would be.”
“Horrible,” Lexa told her. “The first time I came here with my mom, they let me up on a ten-story hospital building. I climbed to the very top. I don’t know what was worse, the height or the view. I was so high up that if I fell I would be no more than a puddle when I hit. But then I looked around and saw miles and miles of empty buildings. All those buildings used to be full of people, all dead now. It’s horrible.” She broke off with a shudder.
The Cyclers lived on the edge of this desolation.
The trucks rolled down recently paved roads for the first time in their trip. It was just after noon when they rolled up to a heavy metal gate.
A man came out to greet them. He was heavyset, balding and maybe fifty-five years old. He was dressed in denim jeans and a T-shirt with a welder’s apron over that. He eyed the trucks with a professional manner as he approached.
“Must be the Greenbowes,” he said as Amy rolled down her window.
“That’s right,” Lexa called out. “I am Lexa Greenbowe, and this is Amy of Freedom Ranch.”
The man consulted a clipboard. “Ten visitors and five trucks,” he read. “All right, everything seems in order. You want James Armstrong, fourth building on the right.” He waved at the gatekeepers, who obediently swung the gates open for them.
“That was businesslike,” Amy commented.
“I told you they were barbaric,” Lexa said. “No sense of hospitality at all.”
The fourth building on the right turned out to be a large warehouse. There was room for all five trucks to park inside. Inside along the far wall were row upon row of shelves. Amy recognized some of what was on the shelves. There were tractor parts, auto parts, and a partial compressor system for a refrigeration unit.
“Is that our order?” she asked.
“Goddess, I hope not,” Lexa answered.
“Why?”
“Because if it is, they are way behind, as usual,” Lexa snorted, getting out of the cab.
A tall rail of a man with bulging muscles and thin, sandy-brown hair strode toward them. His denim overalls were faded and covered in oil stains. He wiped his hands on a filthy oil-soaked rag as he came forward. Amy had been called a grease monkey more than once in her life, but she hadn’t a clue what that really meant. Now she did.
“Lexa Greenbowe,” the man cried gleefully, sweeping Lexa into a giant hug. She went into his arms willingly but seemed none too thrilled about it. “It is wonderful to see you again,” he said, letting her go.
“Is that our order?” Lexa asked, pointing at the shelves.
“Is that any way to greet someone who might be your father?” he scoffed.
“Hi, Dad,” she replied, her voice rich with sarcasm. “Mom said your math is off anyway.”
“How many men could your mother have slept with between here and Tir-Na-Nog?” he shot back.
“Apparently, you don’t know Lexa’s mother as well as you think,” Lorn chuckled as he approached and shook the man’s hands. “She was well known for taking the scenic route wherever she went. You must be James.”
James laughed uncomfortably and turned toward the shelves. “Yes, that’s it, all right,” he said changing the subject. “We are a bit behind, unfortunately. Been short of manpower right now. That, and salvage is farther and farther from our home base, you know. Well, we do the best we can.”
“You mean they are not ready?” Patrick blurted out as he approached with the others.
“Now, now,” Lorn intervened. “I am sure they are doing their best, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes,” James replied. “It will all be ready in just a week or two.”
“Meaning a month,” Lexa muttered.
A month?
Amy thought.
We need to be back by then, not just leaving here.
“Perhaps, we can be of some assistance?” Lorn offered. “We have three people with some technical knowledge.” He pointed at the three women, “and several others who are more than happy to do grunt labor.” None of the men looked terribly happy at the prospect, but no one complained.
“Well, Lexa I know. If she’s half as good as her mom, she’ll be a great help. And Spider is it? You’ve been here before?”
“Once,” Spider said, “but I fill in at the light electronics and solar factory back home.”
“Great,” James said, “but most of this stuff is old world tech. I really need someone who knows that stuff, old cars and whatnot.”
Amy raised her hand and waved. “My dad was a mechanic as well as an engineer. He drove a rig before the blast and maintained the ranch’s cars and tractor for years.”
“Damn, I might be able to fill this order yet.” He smiled. “Good, I will put you to work first thing tomorrow. Sorry, we aren’t much up on your ‘hospitality’ thing, but we’ll put you up and get you settled in for your stay.”
He turned around and bellowed at the top of his lungs “Jake!” after a moment, he muttered, “Where has that scrawny little devil gotten off to?” And then he yelled again, “Jake!”
“Aye aye, Captain!” came a shout from somewhere deep in the rows of junk. There was the sound of scrambling.
What came out of the rows could not have possibly fit either description of little or scrawny. He was just over six feet tall with broad shoulders and brawn to match Shawn’s. His face, however, was as different as possible from the black hair and the dark scowl that Shawn wore. He had sandy-blond hair, a touch lighter than his father’s, worn at shoulder length. It fell loose around his face. He had the barest hint of a scraggly beard. His sky blue eyes were wide and gave him a good-natured look of perpetual astonishment.