Rage

EIGHTEEN

They threw him into a cell, an eight-by-eight stone box.

No place to sit or lie down but the stone floor.

They don’t plan on keeping me here long, he guessed.

He stood there, smelling the dankness of the underground jail, scant light sneaking in through barred windows on the wall outside.

As he would in any bad situation, Raine started to weigh options.

And it wasn’t long before he realized that there didn’t seem to be any.

Dan swapped him in a deal with the Outriggers for the supplies he needed. On some level it made sense. He had people hurting and dying; they needed help. And Dan’s rescue of him could have brought the bandits sniffing around.

Still-he knew what he would do to Dan, or to anyone named Hagar, who crossed his path again.

He heard voices. Two men, down to the right. Talking and laughing.

The voices came closer, until finally the men stood in front of him, one barrel-chested, with eyes that seemed recessed in his nearly perfect spherical head.

Not much room in that skull for brain activity.

The other guy was as gaunt as the first one was fat. A comedy routine, the two of them. They stood there for a moment and just stared past him. Finally the fat one spoke.

“So, this is what the past looks like.”

“Looks like a big piece of nothing,” the skinny one replied.

Raine stood a few feet from the bars watching them. One held a stick. No, not a stick-a pole. Like Little John from Robin Hood. Except it was metal.

Nothing too merry about these men, though.

“Too bad we have to-”

The move from the fat one came quick, swinging the metal pole around and jamming it hard between the bars and into Raine’s midsection. The end of the pole went into his stomach, and he gasped, unable to breathe as he doubled over.

The blow sent him to his knees.

When he looked up, the staff had been passed to the thin one, who was-as best he could in the confines of the space-bringing the pole down to smash on his head.

Raine didn’t have time to get a hand up to catch or deflect it.

The smack sent sparks flying in front of his eyes.

As he reached up to touch his head-feeling the wetness there, the skin broken-his eyes suddenly flashed with iris readouts, showing them drop.

The nanotrites don’t like what’s happening. Hopefully they can repair it quickly.

The pole had been passed back to the fat guy, grinning, his mouth open, a watery cave of brown teeth and bloated tongue that worked slavishly to keep the jailer’s lips wet.

He was going for another jab, this time at his exposed back.

Guess they’re not going to kill me, Raine thought. Made sense, if he was to be traded. Bruised, bloodied… imagine that’s okay.

And what would the Authority do with him? He wasn’t optimistic.

The pole came jabbing through the bars, and Raine moved fast, rolling onto his back and grabbing it inches from his chest.

It became a battle of strength and leverage as the big guy tried to twist and turn it to yank the pole away. The other jailer joined in, wrapping his skeletal hands around it. But now Raine had both hands on it.

He could play this game. Basic martial-arts training, a bit of aikido. Twist, turn, use an opponent’s overcompensation.

In seconds Raine had the bar free of their hands, sliding it into the cell.

He stood up and got off one sharp poke right into the side of the fat jailer, where even all his blubber couldn’t keep the terrible pain from making him howl.

The other jailer had already backed away.

Until they both stood as far from the cell as possible.

When the fat jailer could finally talk again, he wheezed, “Don’t worry, you’ll get worse than that. We know what the Authority does. They know how to make survivors beg. You’ll disappear-just like the trash from the past that you are.”

Raine raised the pole as though he actually had a shot at the two of them.

They instinctively cringed and backed away.

“If you want more,” Raine said, “you know where to find me.”

And he didn’t say that just as a show of bravado. If they came back, if they tried something more, if they wanted to appease their sense of having been beaten, they could screw up.

Screwups were good. They could be goddamn lifesaving opportunities.

For now, they just moved on.

The corridor outside the line of cells-with Raine as the only apparent guest-turned dark.

The air turned cool, and in the dankness felt clammy.

For once he was glad to still be wearing the Ark suit. As bad as it was in the heat of day, now it gave him some warmth.

He lay down on the floor.

In seconds he was asleep.

Still on the floor, cheek against the stone, his eyes popped open.

Noises -from down the corridor. A hacking, wet sound; a cough. Then a groan.

Raine sat up, then quickly stood. Maybe his two keepers were back to play some more.

He grabbed the pole from the floor and stood ready. Neither of them had the balls to try and retrieve it.

He heard steps. Light steps-not the jailers-and then…

There stood the girl he had rescued from the bandits.

She was barely visible in the dark shadows of the jail, but it was unmistakably her.

“You? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer, but instead started to insert random keys into the cell lock, fiddling with them, the keys jangling. She did speak, though.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon-”

A click-the tumblers of the lock turning-and the cell door swung open.

She looked up at him.

“Are you saving me?” he asked.

He expected her to smile, but her face, as best he could make out, looked grim, determined.

“Yes.” He realized she had an accent, almost like something from the sun-drenched islands of a century ago. Did those islands exist? Any of those people?

“You saved me, I save you. Now we”-she rubbed her hands together as if sanding one with the other-“clear!”

“Right. That’s the way things work here, hm? Nobody does anything without some payback. Thanks anyway. But how do we get out of here? The guards? The fence?”

She looked left and right. Raine realized how small the girl was, not much more than a kid.

“The way I get in, you get out. That’s how I saw you.”

“You were here… to steal?”

A nod. “Outriggers. They easy to steal from. They stupid. I come here lots. For fuel. Weapons. I will get you out.”

“My buggy? My guns?”

Now, finally a smile. Proud at her thoroughness.

“I got them. But hurry. Never know when new guards come.”

She turned and started running down the corridor. Light on her feet, hugging walls, a feral thing.

That just saved my life.

When they got to the stairs leading up, Raine saw Thin and Fat. Both on the ground. Both surrounded by dark pools that Raine didn’t need a light on to know were blood.

He saw his knife stuck on the side of the girl’s cloak, held by a strap.

The knife she’d used to kill them.

She took the steps two at a time. Raine’s midsection still felt the blow that they had rammed him with, but he hurried as best he could.

They were outside.

In the distance, twin flames snaked up from metal buildings, shedding a pale light over the Outrigger complex. Brighter lights dotted the outside of some of the buildings.

But not enough that anyone would see anything Raine and the girl were doing.

He followed her as she went ahead cautiously, looked, then went farther from the lights.

She knew what she was doing. Probably grew up doing this.

And probably was still growing up.

She turned to him and put a hand up. Stop. Wait.

He nodded.

Voices off to the left. Some workers standing there, just talking.

He and the girl had to remain crouched, waiting.

Eventually, Raine could hear the rhythmic sound of the people saying goodbye, or good night, or whatever the hell it was they said to end their middle-of-the-night conversation.

When they moved away…

“What’s your name?”

She turned back to him, eyes narrow, face set, as if he had asked a bad thing.

“You do not need that. You don’t need name.” She looked around. “We go.”

She led the way across a road, both of them in the light for a bit before hugging a building across the way.

He realized that he was completely in her hands. • • •

He didn’t have to worry-at least not at this time-for she led him to his buggy.

“I moved it,” she said. “After everyone asleep. Your guns-they in there.” She ran to the fence, which looked perfectly intact.

That is, until she pulled at a corner, and like rolling up a piece of paper, it made an opening. Big enough for the buggy to get through? Guess he’d find out soon enough.

“C’mon. You go. Now, hurry.”

“You’re not going to want to hear this again… but thanks.”

Nothing. A world without thanks. Without helping people. The total land of tit for tat.

So much for preserving civilization.

He turned to the buggy, then stopped and turned back to his savior.

“My knife?”

She quickly shook her head. Different rules for that, for stealing.

But she smiled again.

Here’s the lesson, Raine thought… not all bandits are the same. They are just existing in whatever way they can, with whatever code they have. Kill? Yes. Steal? Yes. But at least this one, from whatever group she came from, had some kind of rules.

Rules that saved his life.

But could probably just as easily end his life some other time.

He got into the buggy. Flipped the switch. It started, the roar seeming horribly loud.

Best to get the hell out of here fast, he thought.

He pulled close to the opening in the fence.

The buggy’s front cleared the opening, but then the roll bar above the driver’s seat got caught. He stopped. The girl wedged herself against the car and yanked the metal mesh up a bit higher. The roll bar popped free, and she jumped away, rolling in the dirt.

And he was outside the fence.

Still night, morning hours away. The old-fashioned luminescence of the compass showing a direction.

He turned to look back for the girl…

But she was gone. He should be, too.

And now, guest in this world or not, he had a score to settle.