Nomad (3 page)

A three-dimensional blue mesh diagram of a city unfolded in the air around her, made entirely of threads of light, as though someone had modeled it out of glowing graph paper. A highway ran right through her stomach. Raven backed away until she was outside of the holographic diagram, which took up most of her motel room.

One district of the city grew particularly large, while the rest of it vanished. The cube was zooming in her view for her.

The graphics were just a skeletal blueprint, but they were loaded with dense text. Street names and numbers were clearly labeled, as were businesses and other public locations. Homes and apartments showed the names of their occupants.

Two bright red dots blinked on the map. One was labeled
LAST KNOWN LOCATION
, with a time and the current date, at least according to the newspaper she'd seen. The other blinking dot was labeled
NEXT KNOWN LOCATION
, also with the current date but a later time, several hours into the future.

"What is this?" she asked. "Next location of what?"

The cube didn't answer.

"What city are you showing me?"

The text appeared in the air above the 3-D map like blocky skywriting above the city:
NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT, USA, NORTH AMERICA
.

"Good, now explain the red dot."

Red dots appeared all over the map, each with a date and time in tiny letters and numbers. A glowing box of a map legend appeared directly in front of her, containing only a single symbol: the red dot. Next to it was the word
TARGET
.

"Yeah, very helpful," Raven said. She noticed all the dates and times were in the future, hundreds of seemingly random moments scattered over the next few months, from October to December, in and around the city of New Haven.

She had heard of New Haven, but she couldn't remember any details. It sounded creepy, like the name a freaky religious cult might give its compound in the wilderness.

"What's in New Haven?" Raven asked the cube. "What target are you tracking? Is it a person?"

The cube did not respond.

"Do you have a start-up screen? A main menu?" Raven asked.

The map vanished, replaced by a rotating blue sphere that read TRIOD DATASYSTEMS in silver letters. Rings of tiny three-dimensional icons orbited around it.

"Now we're getting somewhere," she whispered.

A high-pitched metallic whine like a buzzsaw sounded outside her window. The pane shattered behind the curtain and broken glass rained down onto the carpet. The curtain bulged toward her, making a shape like a child's ghost costume. A horizontal gash ruptured across it.

A round metal-plated disk the size of a manhole cover emerged through the gash. A circular saw blade spun around its midsection, its steel teeth a blur. The disk hovered on muffled air jets. A turret gun the size of a pencil was mounted on top, and it swung toward her like a pointing finger.

Raven grabbed her pillow--about the only thing in the motel room that wasn't bolted down--and flung it at the floating, saw-toothed device. She rolled to the foot of her bed while the whirling saw blade shredded the pillow and spewed up a confetti cloud of sour, yellowed fluff.

The disk's little turret gun fired a bright blue laser that grazed her thigh, cutting and cauterizing her instantly, and she screamed as she tumbled off her bed. The laser carved the bed in half, and the air filled with the sound of sizzling and the mingled stench of ozone and burning motel sheets.

Raven hit the carpet on her stomach and grabbed the plasma gun from her pack. She rose up to peer over the foot of the mattress.

The disk fired another blue-hot laser at her, burning right through the mattress. She dodged aside, but it still skimmed her high on the arm near her shoulder, and she howled in pain. The disk dove toward her, letting out a high, buzzing whine as its cutting teeth accelerated.

Raven squeezed her trigger as she landed on her back, unleashing a blob of white fire the size of a tennis ball. It engulfed the disk, which swept past her and slid across the carpet, trailing flames, and crashed into the baseboard, instantly blackening the wall all the way up to the ceiling.

She heard a footstep. The motel's sickly-green outdoor lights outlined a shape against her curtain, a large man armed with a gun. He reached out to draw aside the sliced, sagging curtain, and she aimed for his head.

"What in hell's gravy is going on? You okay, girl?" Jebbie leaned in through the shattered window. He wore jockey shorts and a sweat-stained shirt advertising
Chunky's Bowl-A-Rama
. He waved a .44 Magnum Colt Anaconda in his right hand. His jaw dropped at the sight of the crashed silver disk radiating runners of fire up the wall and across the carpet.

"Jebbie, do you see any more of these out there?" She pointed to the disk.

"Naw, I think I'da noticed by now..." Jebbie looked out over the parking lot. "What in St. Peter's pooter is happening? You better tell me, now."

"Grab your keys," Raven said. "We have to go. There could be more of these on the way."

"What is that thing? Some kinda flying saucer?"

"Hurry! I'll explain later." She ran to the bathroom, crammed her boots and wet clothes into her backpack, and pulled on the damp, armor-lined jacket.

On the way out, she hopped over patches of burning carpet. As she grabbed her sunglasses from the end table, she noticed a tiny, blinking red light on the side of the crashed disk. It blinked faster and faster, and with each blink it emitted a beeping sound, almost too soft to hear.

Raven panicked as she realized what was happening. She ran outside and met Jebbie on the walkway as he emerged from his room. In addition to his underwear, he now wore his socks and MoonPie cap. He clutched his gun in one hand and his keys in the other.

"Hey, I was coming to ask, should I get my shaving kit, too? Do you figure we're coming back here? Cause the Big Porcupine Big Breakfast Special just can't be beat--"

"Duck!" She tackled him and knocked him onto his back on the concrete walkway. The motel quaked as the disk exploded inside her room. A wave of burning furniture fragments blew out through her window and over their heads. Most of it hurtled over the railing to rain down on the parking lot below, but the charred television set slammed against the walkway railing and crashed next to Jebbie, and he screamed.

She jumped up and helped Jebbie push his way to his feet. His mouth dropped as he looked into the smoking cave of her room, where nothing remained but swirls of ash.

"Devil's dingleberries," Jebbie gasped. "That thing woulda killed you all over the place."

"We have to run!" Raven took his arm and tried to pull him along.

"But my shaving kit--" Jebbie pointed back over his shoulder.

"Now!" Raven dragged him down the walkway to the stairs. They jogged as fast as he could manage down to the parking lot.

"What in the name of James Earl Jones was that thing?" Jebbie asked as they crossed the asphalt, dodging the scattered burning debris from her room.

"A drone," Raven told him. "They're remote-operated attack units."

"Sure, I heard of them."

"We have to keep moving. Let's get to your truck."

"Who sent it? And why'd they do a thing like that? Who's trying to kill you?"

"I don't remember yet, but I know they're good at killing people. Hurry!"

Raven dashed across the wide parking lot toward the lights of the restaurant, while Jebbie jogged behind, panting. Only a few cars were parked in front of the motel. Raven hoped the rooms around theirs had been vacant for the night.

"Hey!" a voice shouted. Raven raised her pistol as she looked back over her shoulder, but it was only the elderly night clerk, still on duty at three in the morning. "Hey! Y'all done blowed up my motel! Y'all can't go! Y'all can't go!"

"Keep going!" Raven shouted at Jebbie.

"Come back, you dang meth heads!" the clerk shouted. "I know what you done! I'm calling the police!"

They climbed into the truck, and Jebbie raced toward the ramp to the interstate.

Chapter Three

As they drove off down the highway, Raven looked back at the smoking motel. The flashing blue light of a police car approached it, and she clutched her gun more tightly. Police were not her friends.

"Cop better not come after me," Jebbie muttered, looking into his side mirror. "I am not gonna get blamed for all that mess."

Raven couldn't help smiling a little.

"What the hell
was
all that mess, anyhow? Drones? You in trouble with the government?" He squinted at her. "It's drugs, ain't it?"

"I don't think so." She pulled on her black fatigues, still wet from the rain, and tucked in her oversized collared shirt. She strapped on the combat boots.

"What is it, then?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm trying to remember. It's not clear." Raven fitted the shoulder holster around herself and took it in by several sizes.

'What kinda pea-spitter you got there? That ain't no Remington."

"It's a Deuterion K-300 Adaptable Plasma Generator. Heavy combat pistol." Raven was surprised to hear these words coming out of her mouth, but she knew they were correct.

"Ain't never heard of that. Can I see it?"

"Be careful." Raven double-checked the safety before handing it over.

Jebbie whistled as he gripped the heavy pistol. His other hand remained on the steering wheel, guiding the rig down the dark, sparsely populated highway.

"What kinda rounds does this thing shoot?"

"Plasma."

"Like blood?"

"Like the fourth state of matter. Liquid turns into gas when you heat it enough. When you heat gas enough, it turns into plasma. That pistol uses hydrogen gas."

"Hot puppy shit, girl. I knew you was trouble, but..." He shook his head. He returned her pistol, then handed over his stainless-steel revolver, butt first. "Colt Anaconda. They don't make that no more. It don't shoot no hydro-fire or nothing fancy, but a .44 Magnum cartridge does the job every time."

"It's a good projectile weapon," Raven said, testing its weight in her hand. She didn't want to say the revolver struck her as antiquated, as though he'd proudly presented a handful of stone-tipped arrows. She returned it to him, then brought out the rifle extender from her backpack and snapped it onto her pistol.

"Now, that's a mean-looking machine," Jebbie said.

"The extender accelerates the plasma, for shooting at a distance or penetrating armor."

"Armor? What is this, the Dark Ages?"

"Essentially."

"You won't say who sent the dang thing, but who all has drones like that?" Jebbie asked. "It must be the military, right? Or the government?"

"Other people might have them, too."

"What other people?"

"Private security," Raven rubbed her head, struggling to remember. "The expensive kind."

"I guess. I don't know." He took his gun back from her. "Listen, are we gonna have more trouble up the road? Cause dying ain't high on my to-do list right now. You can't tell me who they are or why they're after you..."

"I understand. I'm putting you in danger. You can drop me at the next exit."

"You know where you're going yet?"

"North."

"North, huh? Well, listen, I'm only going so far as Toledo, then I got to drop my load and turn south again. So, you're welcome to stay that long, if, I mean, I noticed you got a whole lotta money there...so maybe some of them hundreds for the trouble, and my lost shaving kit and all..."

"That's fair." Raven opened her pack, peeled off six bills, and handed them over. "Is that good for now?"

"Yeah, yeah, oh, yeah..." He stuffed the money into his shirt pocket. "Yeah, that's good. And maybe a little for gas."

Raven sighed and paid him another hundred.

"What are you hauling back there?" she asked. She squinted through the rear window at the semi trailer decorated with fluffy pink cartoon sheep. "It's not volatile, is it?"

"Naw, but the people who buy 'em might be." He chuckled to himself.

"What is it?"

"Puflex."

"Is that a...pharmaceutical?" Raven asked.

"I kinda figured you'd know." He flushed as though embarrassed and scratched his neck, looking out his window. "Puflex. Uh, the lady's product? For your monthly, uh, visits? Got twenty tons of 'em back there. Enough for all the women in Toledo, I guess."

"Oh!" Raven said. "So...yeah. Got it. Tampons." She looked out at the road.

He drove well past the speed limit to put the trouble behind them. The dashboard clock read
1:15 a.m.

After only a couple of miles, Jebbie veered toward another exit ramp.

"Where are we going?" Raven asked.

"Got to pull off. Running on empty. I was gonna gas up at the Big Porcupine in the morning, but it ain't morning yet, and here we are driving. We need fuel, and I need me a coffee and something sugary. Didn't get much sleep with that UFO drone and all." He pulled alongside a pump at another, smaller truck stop.

"We have to keep moving," she said.

"You want to keep going, that means fuel, me and the truck both." He climbed down to the gas pump.

"I'll get the coffee. Wait out here with the engine running," she said.

"Well, yes, ma'am. But don't forget something good to eat, like a bear claw, and four or five Moon Pies." He stuck his credit card into the pump. "Biggest coffee they got, black, but with sugar and some creamer. "

The convenience store sold groceries, t-shirts, and, for some reason, a wide selection of novelty items like whoopee cushions and joy buzzers. She filled two extra-large paper cups from an urn labeled "Ultra Dark Roast," one of several choices at the coffee bar by the rotating wiener rack.

"How ya doing, honey?" asked the large woman at the cash register, who was working a crossword puzzle and didn't look up from it while she spoke. "Need a little coffee, huh? Tell me about it."

"Are you talking to me?" Raven asked.

"You see anybody else in here, honey?" She cast Raven a bewildered look, as though Raven were crazy.