Rummaging under the front seat on the other side, Doc unearthed several road flares in good condition, the waxy cylinders fogged with age but still intact. However, whether they would ignite was problematic, at best.
“The proof of the pudding,” Doc rumbled, tucking them away.
“Is in the eating,” Mildred said as she located a first-aid kit in the glove compartment, and slipped it into her satchel with the other medical supplies. Most likely, everything it contained was useless, but even the plastic box itself would be good to keep her small supply of bandages dry and clean.
Without a qualm, Jak removed a cap from the driver and took the MP’s sunglasses. Sliding them into place on his own face, the polarized lens darkened in response to the bright desert sunlight and the albino nodded.
Reaching the rear of the wag, Ryan stopped short at the sight of the single thick door twisted off its row of hinges, the steel battered and torn. But the metal was bent outward, not inward. Something had escaped from the military vehicle, and he could guess what it was.
“The sec hunters,” Krysty guessed, standing alongside the scowling man.
Turning, Ryan frowned at the buildings, cars and stores nearby, searching for any sign of movement. But the area was quiet, with only a creaking sign swaying in the smoky breeze and the ghastly noise of the eating birds breaking the deathly still.
“Damn things must have been en route to somewhere when skydark hit,” Ryan said, keeping a sure grip on his blaster. “Mebbe even the Grandee redoubt. And they’ve been sitting here on their tin asses, warm with juice from the nuke batteries until the dome cracked.”
“They probably read that as an act of aggression and activated themselves to repel the invaders,” Mildred added, working the bolt on her Remington longblaster. Only four rounds remained, but she planned on making every shot count. Her Czech ZKR pistol would be used for millipedes and stickies. The big bore bone shredders were reserved exclusively for the lethal military robots.
“You mean,” Dean said, “to repel us.”
Then without further comment, the boy took a stance toward the swinging sign and worked the arming lever of his new crossbow to nock a fiberglass arrow into place. The droids were smart and might decide to try to get close using the noise of the sign as cover.
In a swell of fatherly pride, Ryan noted the boy’s actions, then returned to the van, knowing his back was secure. Inside were floor brackets about the size of the base of a sec hunter, power cables dangling impotently from the ceiling, a bank of meters and dark vid screens flanking the two spots. For Ryan, the number was deeply reassuringly. Just the two they had seen so far, then, no more.
There were also some skeletons at the front of the wag, strapped into seats, with steel briefcases chained to their wrists, the dusty uniforms hanging loosely off the wizened corpses of the officers. Holstered at their sides were a couple of plastic boxes like the remote control of a vid. Snapping loose a restraining strap, Ryan slid the device from its holster and it crumbled in his grasp, completely eaten through by the leaking acid of its own batteries. He tried again with the other and got the same results. Chilled by sheer time.
“These must have been the remotes to control the droids,” Ryan guessed, tossing the fistful of circuits and chips aside.
“Anything else?” Doc asked, craning his neck to see the interior.
Glancing at the briefcases, Ryan saw a logo on the stainless steel lock and knew better than to waste time trying to get inside those. Most likely it was the best the government at the time had. Even if they were successful, he knew it was possible that the cases were boobied.
“Nothing here for us,” Ryan said, coming out. “We better move in case the machines return to check on their masters.”
That was a sobering thought, and the companions quickly departed the area and didn’t stop until they were a good two blocks away. From there, the cliff rose above the low buildings at the outskirts of the city, loose rubble from the salt dome lying in plain sight, some sections a dozen yards thick, others only broken into a million small crystals the size of a fist. Loose white salt covered the streets inches deep, a few mounds rising over fireplugs and bodies, making the area look like Alaska in the winter.