By the Feet of Men Read online

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked Ghazi.

  ‘Unsure. Could belong to a camp watching its territory.’

  ‘Let’s wait. If they keep following, we’ll send them a warning.’

  ‘You think they tracked Orion, too?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Cassady wound up the timepiece next to the juice meter and watched the seconds tick over. His eyes had stopped burning and his skin no longer itched. The A/C had dried out his throat again, so he took a sip of water. Judging from the sky and the thickness in the back of his head, he couldn’t have been out for more than a couple of hours. He tracked the exoskeletons through the binoculars. For some reason, he was sure they weren’t hunters. Four was too few for an attack, especially for a truck the size of Warspite. Ghazi was probably right about the camp.

  The clock wound down and the hand stopped moving. The exos were still visible in the trees.

  ‘Hit the lights,’ said Cassady.

  Ghazi twisted a dial next to the steering wheel and flicked a switch. Outside, the world around them glowed red. Halogen lights positioned on top of the cab, under the chassis and on the drop hatch burned with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. Now the exos would know for sure the pantech had seen them. And they would know the crew was ready to fight if they tried to attack.

  Almost immediately, three of the exoskeletons peeled away and headed back in the direction they had come. The fourth continued until the trail made a sharp left turn and then stopped in its tracks. Warspite lumbered on. Cassady pressed the binoculars to his eyes and, craning his neck, managed to catch a view of the crude suit slipping away between the trees.

  ‘They’re gone.’

  Ghazi’s hand snaked out to flick the switch. The surroundings became a murky yellow-grey soup again.

  ‘Not hunters, then.’

  ‘Guards, I would say. Wonder what they’ll make of four rigs passing through their turf on the same afternoon.’

  ‘That’s valuable information.’

  ‘Nothing we can do about it. How much further?’

  ‘End of this trail. I estimate 40 minutes.’

  ‘Markers?’

  ‘Dead town fifteen minutes back. Some kind of industrial job.’

  It took a few moments for him to find it on the map. ‘Forty is right. Thirty if you stop letting the road whip you.’ He glanced at Ghazi. The mechanic’s lips twitched.

  ‘Glad you found your wit while you were sleeping.’

  The Old Lady jogged from side to side. The track was disintegrating into a mess of ruts, holes, plastic and dead wood. The trees soaked up the light, and branches lashed the edges of the windshield and scraped against the tarpaulin cover. Ghazi switched on the headlamps. Cassady watched the speedometer. The needle remained steady. He might have chanced fifth gear, but Ghazi wouldn’t. There wasn’t a reckless bone in the man. His thoughts drifted to the rendezvous point, a handful of buildings Sergei had marked as probably safe. The stimulants had released their grip on his stomach and he was growing hungry. Neither of them had eaten since throwing back a few of Lupo’s pills at midday.

  Without warning, Ghazi grunted and slammed on the brakes. Their harnesses bit into their shoulders. Cassady had just enough time to spot a huge pothole before they slid over it. Warspite’s wheels struck the lip and the vehicle lurched like a dying man. As quickly as he could, Ghazi hit the accelerator. The tyres bit and spun and the engine droned. Warspite dragged herself forward until her front half was back on the road. Cassady pounded the dash.

  ‘Go, go,’ he shouted. The rear wheels attacked the hole and she juddered as though she was trying to tear herself apart. He held his breath, fearing the worst. But Ghazi’s brow was clear. He waited a split second and hit it. The back end bounced free of the hole. Warspite stumbled along the track. Cassady breathed again.

  ‘Stop the rig,’ he said. He jumped out and crawled underneath the cab, hands reaching to open a small storage box as the evening’s heat wrapped itself around him. He unclasped the rusting lock and rummaged around inside before rolling back out from under the creaking pantech. The trees leered at him as he jumped up and hurried along the trail, sweat running in unbroken lines down his back. Visibility was low without Warspite’s headlights to paint the surroundings. His sticky hand gripped a chemical snaplight. At the edge of the hole, he wiped his top lip against the collar of his tunic and paused to listen. The Old Lady breathed behind him. Cicadas called out from all around. The trees shushed one another. He snapped the cylinder and threw it over the hole, and it landed on the trail on the other side. Fluorescent light spilled out into the dirt. That would have to do. Brandt and Victor wouldn’t be able to miss it, as long as they turned up before the stick died. As he headed towards the Old Lady, the darkness flooded in. He froze at the sound of something moving in the forest and whipped his head around. Panic bloomed in his chest. Go, said a voice. Now. His boots tramped against the dirt and he ran for the red globes suspended below the cargo bed. He pulled on the door that always required so much force to yank open and dived in. He stuffed his trembling hands under his thighs and stared straight ahead. Ghazi threw him a quizzical look, but said nothing. The dark-eyed Runner slipped Warspite into gear and guided them further into the forest.

  The rendezvous was a medley of half-collapsed concrete structures a few hundred metres downhill from the edge of the forest. It wasn’t ideal. Sergei had said it was safe, but his information was a few weeks old already and life moved fast on the edge of the Bowl. Ghazi cycled down into first and guided them in. Cassady kept his eyes open for danger.

  But there was no need. ‘There,’ he said to Ghazi, pointing. A blood-red piece of fabric hung from one of the dilapidated structures. Hearst and Katarina were waiting. They nosed through the structures until they reached a quadrangle. A female form cradling a crossbow stood in the doorway of a building that was mostly intact. White hair, released from its braids, fell down around Katarina’s shoulders. She pointed to her left and Ghazi guided Warspite into a concrete building which still had a roof. Orion hugged one of the walls. They set to work removing the battery from its crib and hooking it up to the wind turbine. Cassady strapped the black tube to his back, attached a set of cleats to his boots and scaled the outside of the building. Orion’s turbine had already been set up on the flat roof. He unscrewed the end cap from the tube and extracted a smaller cylinder that split into four hinged legs at one end and curved blades at the other. The spiked feet dug into the rooftop. Finally, he took the cable that was hooked onto his belt and plugged it into the base of the turbine. The cable snaked over the lip of the building and down to where the battery waited.

  ‘Yellow?’ he shouted from the roof.

  ‘Yellow,’ came the muffled response. He picked up the turbine case and climbed back down in time to find Ghazi setting up the pedal lock and flipping the kill switches. He threw the case into the back of the rig.

  ‘Think we need to mantrap her?’ Ghazi asked.

  ‘Wire the tailgate. Hearst probably has a bunch of traps around the perimeter already.’

  ‘Better check anyway.’

  After setting the tripwire, they crossed the quadrangle. In the doorway where Katarina had stood, Cassady paused and listened for the sound of incoming vehicles, but there was nothing but silence. He scratched at his neck and pinched a louse between his thumb and forefinger. He hoped the others weren’t far behind.

  Hearst and Katarina were sat on the floor near a dying fire, over which a cooking pot hung from a tripod. Something bubbled inside. Wisps of smoke escaped through a hole in the roof. The fire had made the room sweltering and it smelled of burning air and unwashed bodies.

  A maternal smile crossed Katarina’s face. ‘Hello boys. Food in the dixie.’

  The new arrivals loaded their mess tins and shovelled the contents into their bitter stomachs.

  ‘Nothing like home cooking,’ said Ghazi.

  Cassady paused in his mechanical digging to hold a spo
onful up to the light. ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘Roots, acorns, herbs, boletus, water. A stone for flavour and minerals. All you need to be fighting fit in the morning.’

  ‘Started using Lupo’s pills yet?’

  ‘No. Not when there’s food all around us.’

  ‘It’s good,’ Ghazi said. ‘Thank you. Have you wired the perimeter?’

  ‘Of course. Any news on the others?’

  ‘Haven’t seen them.’

  Ghazi set his tin down. ‘Were you out of the forest in time to hear the second station update?’

  ‘No news,’ muttered Hearst, her gaze trained on the powdery white ash in the fire pit. ‘Quiet.’

  Cassady nodded, satisfied. Their luck had held so far. He ate without worry. The stew tasted better than anything they usually relied on. When he was finished, his stomach was full and he permitted himself to enjoy the luxury of it. He stretched out on the cool floor with his palms laid flat on the stone. The tension of the day was like a suit of armour he had to take off piece by piece. He closed his eyes, hearing only the spitting fire, lost in thought about the future. One day he would climb out of Warspite for the last time and live out his remaining days on a farm. He couldn’t keep running forever, not like Brandt or Renfield or Kaja. His body wouldn’t have the strength to take it. It was like the grip on a set of tyres. Once it was gone, it was gone.

  For a moment he saw the burning, hateful face in the window again. Cold hands wrapped themselves around his throat and forced him to sit up. He thumped his chest and the image dissolved. He’d startled the other three and now they watched him. He frowned. To hell with their judgement.

  Ghazi broke the awkward silence. ‘Which one of you is taking first shift tomorrow?’

  ‘Me. Hearst had the wheel today,’ said Katarina. ‘Guided us all the way. Danced around those potholes back there like they didn’t exist.’ Hearst nodded at the compliment.

  ‘No break?’ asked Cassady. The tattooed head shook from side to side. He grunted to show he didn’t care one way or another, but he couldn’t fool himself. If she could last the day, so could he. Next time he sat in the driver’s seat, he wouldn’t give it up so easily.

  ‘Did you see the exos?’ asked Ghazi.

  ‘Yes,’ said Katarina. ‘They kept their distance. And they dropped us when they saw we weren’t looking for a fight.’

  ‘Must’ve been watchdogs.’

  Hearst tensed, angling her head towards the open doorway. ‘Quiet.’ Then she relaxed. A second later, Ghazi smiled. Cassady waited, wishing his hearing was as sharp as theirs. A faint noise carried through the door: the whine of two powerful engines in conversation with one another. He sprang to his feet and headed outside.

  On top of the building, the turbines cut circles in the darkness, recharging the depleted batteries that would serve as a backup the next day. With rapid strides he crossed the quadrangle and followed the road until he reached a building at the base of the hill. He peered through a windowless opening. The mobile pillbox was in front, the monster just behind, both vehicles creeping down the hill like they were trying to sneak clean through. Victor’s mess of blonde hair was luminous behind the wheel. Cassady stepped into the road to wave them in. The Silkworm’s headlights flashed as they lit up his body. He jumped back out of the way, and the rigs trundled past. Neither vehicle showed any signs of damage. Renfield gave him a quick salute from Telamonian’s cab. Cassady grabbed a rail on the back of the massive truck and planted his feet against the bumper. As they bounced towards the quadrangle, he idly lifted the tarpaulin flap and looked at the cargo bed. Bungee cords secured the crates of medicine. Everything was as it should be.

  Renfield guided Telamonian into one of the empty buildings. The Silkworm kept going, eager to find a spot away from the others. As Cassady jumped down from the bumper, the doors were flung open and the two old Runners emerged. Brandt held a wind-up flashlight in front of him, and its light danced across Cassady’s face.

  ‘Cut it out.’

  Brandt laughed. ‘You look just as good as I feel. Verdammt warm today.’

  Renfield placed his palms flat against the side of the truck and pushed until his back clicked. His spindly frame didn’t have a gram of fat on it. ‘Twelve hours in the boneshaker.’ He sighed. ‘Tell me again why I agreed to this.’

  ‘Any problems?’

  ‘Aside from being too old and too slow? No. Thanks for the warning about the hole back there.’

  ‘What about your new friends?’

  ‘Didn’t hear a peep from them, but they kept us in view the whole time. Even stopped when we had to switch one of the batteries, but they didn’t say anything. Jürgen has no problem with them keeping their distance.’

  ‘I bet.’

  Renfield yawned. ‘Those boys have much to prove to themselves. I’ve seen it all before many times. One day they’ll realise that.’ He took a battered flask from a trouser pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. Brandt grabbed the flask, had a swig and held it out to Cassady.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The finest malt.’

  ‘Not today.’

  Renfield laughed. ‘One of the only things left in this world to enjoy and you turn it down.’

  ‘If I start now, I won’t want to stop. You’d better sort out your rig.’

  ‘Later,’ said Brandt. ‘Is there food?’

  ‘Yes. Kaja took care of it.’

  ‘Meine Heldin.’

  Brandt handed the flask back to Renfield, and the three of them made their way across the quadrangle. Their attention was drawn to the businesslike movements of Victor and Tagawa as they set up their turbine on the roof of the building they’d chosen to house their vehicle. Victor crawled over the structure like an insect, all jerking, nervous energy. Tagawa moved at his own pace, languid and confident, as though his way was the only one worth knowing.

  Brandt and Renfield spoke a few words to Katarina and served themselves a bowl of stew. Renfield sat with his back against the wall and took out a decaying paperback. He found his page, perched a pair of glasses on his nose and read while he ate.

  ‘What have you got?’ asked Ghazi.

  The old man grinned. ‘You’d like it. The Shape of Things to Come, H. G. Wells. The destruction of Europe, a plague that decimates the population, and the birth of a utopia.’

  ‘When can we expect the utopia to find its feet?’

  ‘Look around you, Ghazi.’ Renfield waved his hand at the room. ‘Food, warmth, no fighting, security, friendly faces. This is as close as we’ll ever get. Enjoy it.’

  Cassady closed his eyes once more and let the calm settle on his skin. They had all survived the first day. He repeated it to himself several times as though it was a mantra.

  A pair of boots slapped against the earth, and Victor entered the room with a theatrical yawn. ‘It’s hotter than the Bowl in here.’ Tagawa followed, his gaze eluding them all.

  Cassady forced himself to sound friendly. ‘How was it?’

  ‘Why? Were you worried?’ A mean grin cast a shadow over Victor’s boyish features. He spied the food and Katarina told him to help himself. He dived in, his spoon a blur as it dipped in and out of the pot. Tagawa sat near the fire in silence. Cassady felt the lines of electricity running under his arms and breathed hot air through his nostrils. He told himself to keep cool.

  ‘You want to take point tomorrow?’

  ‘Oh sure,’ said Victor. He threw back a spoonful of the stew and wiped his chin. ‘But who’s gonna keep watch over the buzzards?’

  Brandt stopped mid-chew and set his plate on the floor. ‘Boy, you’d better start watching what you say. I have a few sticks of dynamite in my supplies that I’ve been saving for something special. If you want to be that something, keep talking.’ He pressed his knuckles against his palms until they popped.

  Victor carried on eating as though he hadn’t heard him. After a few moments, Brandt picked up his plate again. Renfield glanced at Vic
tor over the top of his reading glasses, once more not bothering to disguise his amusement.

  Katarina tied her flowing hair behind her head. ‘There’s a long way to go yet, gentlemen. You would all do well to keep your heads.’ Her tranquil eyes found Victor. ‘Can you manage that for us?’

  He stepped away from the pot and wiped his mouth. ‘I ain’t promising anything, lady. But tonight you can have your wish. Seeing as you cooked and all.’

  He made his way to the doorway. Before he disappeared, Cassady called out. ‘Telamonian will take the lead tomorrow.’

  Victor hesitated, hands gripping the door frame, and then ducked into the night. Tagawa remained where he was, his eyes searching the embers. He leaned over and reached into the pot. After a few spoonfuls, he stood and walked to the door.

  ‘Thank you for the food.’ He turned to Brandt. ‘Don’t dismiss him. He doesn’t make idle threats and he’s gunning for you.’

  ‘What do you care?’ growled Brandt.

  ‘I watch his back and he watches mine.’

  ‘Are you threatening me now, too?’

  ‘No. I’m simply making things clear between us. Oyasuminasai.’ Tagawa slipped out.

  When he was sure neither of them was coming back, Renfield placed the book down and peered over his glasses at Cassady. ‘That wasn’t necessary.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know what, Edward.’

  Cassady kept his voice low. ‘They aren’t leading us out if they can’t show you respect.’

  ‘We can fight our own battles, boy. We don’t need you drawing lines in the sand. And this isn’t a procession. ‘Leading us out’. Forget about that kind of ceremony. We’re in the Bowl now.’

  The old man groaned as he hauled himself upright. He beat the dust from his patched clothes. ‘Anyway, I’ve said my piece. Time to turn in.’ He shuffled over to Brandt. ‘Long day tomorrow. And we still need to charge the batteries, which means one of us has to get up on that roof. I believe it’s your turn, my friend.’