“Drop them,” J.B. stated, snatching another duffel bag from the loose items on the floor. Yanking open the top, he began tossing in food packs and spare ammo in case they were forced to abandon the LAV to run for their lives. He might be mistaken, but the engines sounded bad, and seemed to be getting worse by the second.
Ryan forced his attention away from the struggling engines. “Can’t lose the fuel. We’re going to need every drop to reach the next Shiloh. We’re low as it is. Worst comes, we can always cut the cans loose.”
“Might have to!” Krysty shouted. As she peered out the broken ob port, smoke stung her eyes and made them water. “The fire is keeping us from the road, and I can’t see a thing through this bastard corn. Gone wild, this stuff could stretch for miles. Which direction do we go, north or south?”
Restraining a cough, Ryan gestured. “Doc, you’re the tallest. Get into that turret and guide us!”
“With the greatest pleasure.” As the old man holstered his blaster and clambered into the turret, J.B. passed up his Navy telescope. Forcing back the top hatch, Doc tied a handkerchief to his mouth as protection from the thickening smoke, then extended the antique instrument to its full length.
“Forest to the right, ocean to the left,” he loudly announced, studying the golden field. “The corn goes for another mile and then seems to abruptly stop. There might be a dip in the ground!”
“Or another cliff,” Krysty added, working the clutch and throttle trying to smooth out the engine vibrations.
Bending at the knees, Doc stooped back inside and dogged the hatch shut. “Indeed, madam.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Our choices are exceedingly poor.”
“The fire is closer,” Dean said from the aft doors, a note of tension in his voice. “I can see flames over the top of the cornstalks.”
In spurts, the LAV straggled to roll through the ancient farmland, the dry plants bending slowly out of their way, then rising intact again as the APC crept along.
Studying the motion of the billowing smoke, Ryan made his decision. “The wind is from the sea, going toward the cliff. Head for the trees.”
Her prehensile hair coiled protectively against her scalp, Krysty stomped on the gas pedal. “Do my best,” she muttered, mentally sending a prayer to Gaia to aid them once more this day.
Behind them, thick plumes of black smoke masked the horizon, wild tongues of orange flame rising to fill the sky with hellish illumination as the rapidly growing inferno raged completely out of control.
ON THE OTHER SIDE of a distant mountain range, a small child stumbled through a lush field of green grass. It had been early morning since her mother left to gather wood for their campfire, and now it was late afternoon. Susie was trying not to cry, but she was hungry and dared not eat the dead squirrel before the greenish meat was cooked. That was how her daddy had died so many months ago. She missed him so much, and often awoke crying from bad dreams, seeing him thrash about foaming at the mouth until her mommy cut his throat. Susie never wanted to eat meat after that, but it was the only food they had. She had tried grass, but it tasted nasty and too much made her bad sick.
“Mommy?” she called out softly, hugging a bundle of rags. Her dolly had once had a head, but it was long ago. “Mommy, where are you?”
Only the whispery winds in the trees answered.
Following a bear path through the woods, the tearful child watched the prickly bushes for signs of muties that might attack, clutching her doll for protection. She was supposed to run away from strangers and animals, but if something was hurting her mommy, Susie would kill it dead with the sharp knife hidden inside her dolly. Oh, yes, she would. Daddy had showed her how.
A strange sound caught her attention, and she headed in that direction. Pushing her way through some vines, the girl cried out in delight at finding a bush still heavy with summer berries. Odd that the bear hadn’t eaten them, but this would mean more meat for her mommy to eat! That should make her so happy. Greedily, Susie stuffed her face with the mushy blueberries, rivulets of purple juice flowing down her chin, until she thought her belly might burst. It felt so good not be hungry again, if only for a little while.
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127