“I understand the why.” Rutger scratched his jaw. “Willow is pretty stubborn. Like you.” He grinned. “Come. Or I will stuff you in the truck with my boot on your butt. You know she’s right.”
She grumbled, procrastinating on taking that first step.
“You think you can walk all the way? Like this? You’ll slow us down.”
Fuck.“Okay.”
She walked to the truck, trying not to stomp, or to limp.
It was true, just agonizing to hear after being the hero who killed a Ghoul Lord, after swinging from buildings by her fingertips. Make that anti-hero, for she still wasn’t allowed her gun—her pretty gold-embossed pistol that’d put big holes in Thing.
With a flourish and a grin, Rutger opened the truck door and ushered her in.
Maura leaned forward in the back seat, looking out at her and clearly startled.
“Cyn?
“That’s me.” As she climbed the chrome step to enter the truck, she spotted the back of her hand then her wrist, and the red miniature scales that’d developed. Which led her to what else was growing inside her: tentacles.
Her rising goosebumps weren’t visible to Rutger, thank god. She scrambled in and saluted him, let him shut the door.
“Hope I didn’t let in too much dust?” Cyn dragged off the mask.
“Some.” She shrugged. “I thought about wearing a mask, but it gets hard to breathe in here anyway.”
“Yes, I bet.”
Oxygen might get low if this truck was sealed properly, and she knew Willow had considered that.Yin and yang. Gain on the swings, lose on the roundabouts.They had no oxygen cylinders to feed air into this cabin, so dust and air would get in. Radioactive or not. Opening the door to let Maura out for toilet breaks, and her too now, it was also going to cause contamination.
This was nowhere near perfect, but it helped, especially since she was no longer being allowed to walk.
“If only we’d brought a deck of cards or evenCards Against Humanity.” Wait, no, not that. She twisted her mouth and figured she looked sheepish. “Oops.”
“Mmmm. Maybe not that?I spy?”
“Hell yeah. Excitement guaranteed.” D for dust would be a bit obvious. The windows that had been clean when they began were smeared and caked with the stuff.
She leaned back. If they found Big Daddy at the end, it’d all be worth it.
They passed the time mostly with Maura talking about Locke or of the days before the invasion. It was strangely comforting to hear those stories of the lost days, those memories of what would never be again, for they’d taken on the feel of fairytales. By the time Disney got hold of them, fairytales were fantasies, but before that they’d been instructional tales. Do this, be nice, obey your parents, don’t go out in the dark forest and talk to witches or the bad evil things will come get you and drag you away, screaming… or pop you into ovens and watch you cook.
The creature attacks began a few hours later. These were not nanodogs.
She watched the beasters shoot down a few straggling attackers—feral dogs and even a lion that must’ve come in from a part of the game reserve where the bigger cats used to be confined. Not everything on the reserve was a zebra, a kangaroo, or a cockatoo. There were hungry predators out there. At least none of these had been experimented on.
Just before dusk a pack of something bigger galloped in from the left flank, Maura’s side, where she could see little. Screams and the cacophony of gunfire that melted into a continuous drumroll told her this was serious. Something rammed the truck, rocking it sideways, and Maura clutched her side.
“Fuck! Cyn!”
“It’s okay.” She hugged her. Scary outside, but there wasn’t a lot either of them could do.
Another ram and a growl outside, and Maura was ready to climb into Cyn’s lap. If she had her gun… From the leapingshadows and furred body blocking her own window, there were two animals.
They didn’t last. Bullets and bolts conquered flesh, and the convoy moved on. A tap on the glass and shouted words from a beaster told them all was clear, but there would be no sleep for anyone, no prolonged stops, until they reached the end.
At the next toilet break she climbed out and found the column had formed a circle like an old wagon train with their weapons at the ready. The faces and clothes caked with dust, the old blood, the weary slumped positions where they squatted to eat… How lucky she was to be cozy in the truck.
Privacy was limited, but she’d rather have people eyeing her while she peed than be breakfast for some hungry critter.
