Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) (19 page)

If it was true some people deserved to die, the lesser axiom of some people deserved to be compelled to go away also seemed like it would be true.

Her fantasy popped with the unexpected sight of a forest emerging from the dry ground up ahead, quite out of place for this part of the Badlands. She had never seen trees like this before; the ones by Den’s village were irregular and wide with broad leaves that shifted color with the seasons. These were far taller, straight and thick, bristling with green needles. If nothing else, tree cover could shield her from the cold desert night wind, as well as creatures. Out of breath, she loped off the road across a patch of dirt toward the strange wood.

The presence of something in the air hung over this place, but nothing looked out of place. Ten feet from the closest tree, a tingle spread through her face. It started at her nose, matched by a similar feeling in her leading foot. Althea froze as a phantasmal caress crept over her head like she had walked into a cobweb. While she hesitated in place, her hair rose of its own accord and spread out and up.

The strands of her skirt followed suit, lifting and separating from each other as if the leather repelled itself. Waving a hand, she found coolness in the air, defined and precise like a wall of a different temperature. At one point it was cool and dry, and two inches later, it was cold and not so dry. She looked to either side, at bizarre metal trees, devoid of leaves, standing in line with the separation. Bulbous parts along its length glowed in thin slats; she assumed the unexplained objects had something to do with her levitating hair.

She took a step forward and her hair and skirt fell back into place, free of whatever energy field had charged them. The ground here was different from the sand, dark and heavy. Her toes sank into its wet softness. The aroma of the forest held her awe for a moment until her fatigue overcame her. Althea sat at the base of a tree and curled against it, trying to think about anything but Rachel.

Hours later, she awoke, huddled against the tree where she had taken a nap. The sun was out now, shining through the shifting pines above her. She squinted at the light, smiling at the wind on her face and the beautiful caress of freedom upon her cheek. Hunger clawed its way into her consciousness; she stretched and went off in search of food.

Althea avoided mushrooms. She knew some of them looked like ones you could eat but they would kill you, and she could not remember how to tell the good ones. She foraged around for some time with little success. This place was not natural. Despite the pleasant ambiance of it, the more she looked around, the more she sensed a certain wrongness to the area. She knew there were other mystics among the Scrags; some might have magic she did not know. Maybe this forest was the domain of one such mystic, and she could find a Cha’dom here. If she could find his home, he might help her find Den.

Deeper into the forest she walked, feeling tiny and alone among the towering trees. The whisper of the wind became a pleasant companion as she lost herself in the new experience of being in control of her own life. Althea giggled and grinned as she stepped across rocks in a bubbling brook.

The meandering walk ended some time later. Discomfort at being alone spread like a cancer in her thoughts, soon eclipsing everything else she tried to think about. Althea loved people, and the hollow feeling borne from the fact there were none here grew as intolerable as a little cage in a snake oil salesman’s wagon.

She pined for Rachel and sank into a squat, picking at the dirt in front of her feet, feeling quite silly for running off in the middle of the night. Pouting at the soil, she dwelled on the guilt of what it must have done to her friend to wake up and find her missing. The longer she thought on it, the more she felt like going back to them.

The scent of something edible drifted along the wind for the scarcest of moments, drawing her attention like a starving coyote. Althea leapt up and ran into the wind, leaping across a fallen log before splashing through a knee-high creek, sniffing for any sign of the fragrance.

Althea stood on her toes, waving her face back and forth with her nose in the air, desperate to extract any trace of the aroma. As another whiff floated past. She ran again, moving in a series of jumps and dashes through the underbrush, over fallen logs and around great, smooth square stones as tall as her shoulders. Curious at their unusual flatness, she touched one and found it to be metal. The sight of many of the strange boulders, gleaming white against the dark greens of the forest, brought her speed down to a timid walk. The smell changed; no longer reminiscent of something edible, it wrapped its tendrils around her throat and choked the air out of her lungs.

Dead things.

With an arm over her mouth, she crept closer. The cubes had words printed on them; they must be boxes. She had seen similar objects before, but these were different; they had no lids or handles. The only break in their plain exterior was a small grid of glowing crystals with more writing on them.

At the top of a hill, she looked down a broken path through the vegetation at a silver vehicle with six fat, almost spherical, tires clawing feebly at the air. It had rolled on its back like some giant dead bug. Two men lay motionless on the ground, wearing unfamiliar clothing saturated with blood and bullet holes.

Althea ran to them without hesitation, sprawling on her knees by each man in turn and checking to see if she could do anything for them. Both had been dead more than a few days and had enough bullets in them to kill an entire raider encampment. She scrunched up her nose, confused why anyone would shoot one man hundreds of times.

The back end of the strange vehicle hung open and it had disgorged a number of other boxes. A few had burst, and among the many items she did not recognize, she found one that looked familiar. It resembled the strange food-bar the raider had given her, only it was wider and longer by a margin on either side. The material wrapping it had words and a picture of a smiling little boy next to something that looked like a rectangular turd.

Althea stared at the thing in her hand, confused by who would wrap such things in plastic. Curiosity got the better of her and she peeled it open. The sweet scent of chocolate greeted her, a fragrance that awakened a long dormant memory of a man and a woman giving her a treat. Gripping it with both hands, she plunged the bar into her mouth and savaged it. With eager whimpers, she rooted through the debris hunting for more. Finding another, she took her time with the second one, savoring the taste as she sat against the metal insect.

Once the last bits of chocolate were licked from her fingers, wiped from her face, and licked again, she crawled into the hollow creature and searched for more food. Gathering what seemed usable, she made a pile to take with her and hunted for a satchel or bag to put it all in. Somewhere between the first and second candy bar, she had made up her mind she would return to Rachel as soon as she discovered a way to find her.

The dead men had strange things on them. Althea picked through their pockets, momentarily entranced by her reflection upon a slab of black glass with rounded corners. As she turned it over, it beeped, causing her to drop it and jump back. Glowing words appeared on one face of it, lingering for half a minute before it became dark again.

Unsettled, she made a face at the area around the two dead men and backed away.

“Sorry.”

Whatever she had eaten had left her thirsty, and she jogged toward the sound of a creek with an empty plastic bottle she found in the wreck. She clutched the bottle in her teeth and navigated on all fours over slick rocks to the water’s edge. Cold, slimy green moss squished through her toes as she carefully set her feet on stable footing and squatted, holding the container beneath the surface to fill it. She brought it to her mouth with both hands, drinking and wearing equal parts. Most bad things in the water she could rid herself of with little effort. This stream was cold, and in comparison to what she usually drank, was clean.

Her third mouthful startled into a spray at a sudden mechanical whine punctuated by staccato clicking behind her. She twisted to the left; a glint of daylight drew her gaze to a man’s torso stuck in the rocks downstream, covered in metal. In place of arms, two spinning bundles of rods pointed at her. Its face looked inhuman, also made of metal with eyes that glowed just like hers, only amber.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Attempting to kill you,” it said, with an emotionless, synthesized voice.

Althea guessed the spinning arms were guns, and it had run out of bullets. She gulped at the realization she was almost shot. “Why!”

“You are human… contaminant.”

“Are you hurt?” She edged away from the slick rocks, putting a tree between her body and the strange little man. “I can heal you.”

“Hurt implies pain. CRP-W9 series cannot experience pain.”

A single large wheel where it should have had legs squeaked over the wet rocks, throwing a sluice of mud into the air behind it. It had gotten itself wedged quite thoroughly.

“
Healing
implies bio fault. CRP-W9 series is not biological and cannot be
healed
.”

She huddled behind the tree. “Are you going to shoot me?”

Its voice modulated tone from word to word with inhuman random inflections. “Autocannon one, ammunition depleted. Autocannon two, ammunition ten percent. System failure, environment has caused an electrical short. Autocannon two firing circuit is offline. Please transfer autocannon two ammunition to autocannon one so that I may kill you.”

She noticed the gun closer to the water did not spin as fast as the other did, though both still pointed at her. “You want me to help you so you can shoot me?”

“That is correct.”

With a confused face, she ventured a peek. “Why? I am the Prophet.”

“Prophet not found. You are biological contaminant. CRP directive implies removal of biological contaminants from central North America. Please move to within twenty-four inches of main unit.”

She stepped out from behind the tree, still clinging to it. “You want me to get closer? Why?”

“Please move within twenty-four inches of main unit. Auxiliary contaminant removal system has a maximum effective range of twenty-nine inches.”

She took a cautious step closer. “What is a auximarry taminant system?”

Althea jumped back as a twenty-nine inch blade sprang out of its chest and waved back and forth in the air. “Detachment of biological unit component ‘head’ will result in effective contaminant removal.”

“You’re awful!” She retreated to the tree. “Why do you want to kill me?”

“CRP Directive one stipulates all biological contamination be removed. You are biological, therefore you are a contaminant.”

“I’m not a taminant.” She frowned. “What is CRP?”

The machine twitched and whirred as the head spun around. “Cybernetic Reclamation Project. Original mission to purge the region known as”―the voice cut out, replaced for two words by a recording of a real man―“The Badlands.” It rocked back and forth. “…of combat mutants and experimental genetic weapons implemented during the war. Project directive changed, override authorized by CRP command unit Sigma-Six.

Status
: Region contaminated by mutants.

Directive
: Contamination removal.

Antecedent
: Humans created mutant contamination.

Consequent
: Humans will create more mutant contamination.

Conclusion
: Humans are contaminants.”

Althea blinked, having no clue what it meant.

She pointed at the wreck. “Did you kill those men?”

“Successful contaminant removal occurred thirty-two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty-one seconds ago. Purged contaminants are responsible for current levels of system damage.” The strange thing’s head swiveled at her. “Query.”

“Query?” She peered around the tree, torn between curiosity and fear.

“Define nature of contaminant bioluminescence.”

She stared at it. “Um… What?”

“Current target exhibits undocumented manner of bioluminescence.
Species
: Human should not exhibit scleral bioluminescence. Please define reason.”

“I don’t know what you are saying.”

“Target scan indicates no installed cybernetics but target emits light.” Its iridescent amber eyes blinked at her.

“Oh. My eyes.” She touched a finger to her cheek. “They always did, I don’t know why.”

“Please move within twenty-four inches. Target contaminant scans as female, potential source of new contaminants. Extra points… must be removed.”

“Umm. No. I don’t want to be removed.” She backed away as it twitched and struggled to get free.

This small creature had no emotions and no thoughts. It wanted to kill her and was made of metal. If it got loose from the rocks, she would be in big trouble. Useless guns aside, it had a big knife, and a wheel, which meant it had to be as fast as a raider’s buggy. The more it talked, the more frightened she became of it.

“Secondary target acquired. Subject CN43, canid series augmented biological combat organism.
Danger level
: elevated. Priority threat updated, secondary target is now primary target.
Attention
: female contaminant, please assist CRP-W9 to regain mobility. I will not kill you until the CN43 has been destroyed.”