Chapter 18 - Reaction
Miles of flatness stretched out to the horizon. The winds drew patterns undecipherable on the dried stalks, the ever present rustling marking its coming and going.
Maggie snorted and stamped her hoof. Her mane fluttered under the fingers of the invisible hand. She now sported bags on either side, a makeshift saddle with stirrups on her back. The dowry was across her rump.
“Woah, girl.” Sara held the reins in one hand, spear in the other. Her own mane, red, wavy, and long, streamed in the ever present wind. It was cold. Multiple coats helped, helped keep her warm, helped to hide her growing belly. It was good the pants were so stretchy. The waist of the dress was now above her stomach, and the belt hung low below it.
She stuck the spear into the ground and pulled out a piece of the map. Gingerly unfolding it, she studied it, looked at the wan sun before reversing the actions and finally plucking the spear out.
“I think it’s in that direction.” She sat a little higher in the saddle as if to make out her destination. There was nothing to see. “Well, the sooner we get going, the better.”
She had gotten into the habit of talking to herself. She wasn’t sure it was healthy, but there was no one to argue her out of it except, of course, herself. Square one.
A wave of nausea hit her. Gripping the spear until her knuckles turned white helped her ride it out. She had learned that morning sickness was a misnomer.
She had learned a lot--which surprised her because, technically, she had known a lot. Technically. For instance, she had spent hours in VR riding a horse. She was an expert rider. Maggie might not agree, but she was a good horse, willing to train her. The two had spent countless miles together now.
Sara wanted to reach the next town before nightfall. Sunny Acres or something like that. The map was hard to read now under the accumulation of wear and dirt.
The last few months had been an unending trip. Some farms had greeted her. She finally was able to trade some cheese for a more palatable provisions and warn them. A lot of them had the stillness of a grave. She checked those carefully. Mercifully, there were no more like the first. A couple of towns were dead. A bustling one thanked her for the warning and gave her some more food and supplies before sending her out into the cold again. Gratitude only went so far. The sickness she felt was slowly fading. Thank Gaia that it didn’t come as often and as bad now. She almost felt good some days.
She chewed on her cold chapped bottom lip. No sense in delaying. She nudged Maggie into motion. With any luck, they’d arrive by nightfall.
* * *
The walls didn’t have any silhouettes of people along them. There didn’t seem to be any movement around Sunny Acres. The fields didn’t look tended. Of course, Long Night heralding the start of winter approached so Sara wasn’t sure what to expect. It might just look abandoned to her untrained eye. A pang of longing for the days back in High Plains filled her. She should have paid more attention to the life and rhythms of the people supporting them. Too late now.
Twilight was fading fast, and soon, full blown darkness would claim the land. Riding to the gate, she pulled the rope there.
Somewhere inside, a bell tolled. A minute passed. Another pull. Another minute.
She gave the door a push. The door creaked open.
Great. Another dead town. She would spend the night and scavenge whatever she could find in the morning before heading out. There was a place out west on the edge of the map she hoped was still around, not fallen.
Sometimes there was good stuff in the empty town, sometimes not. Experience had taught her where it was likely to be found. She hoped it would be something easy to carry. Ever since she lost the wagon, everything had to be carefully considered for weight and usefulness in order to be added to her load. There were a number of things she regretted having to leave behind. Like the shovel. She missed the shovel.
Dismounting, she led Maggie through the streets to the industrial area. She always looked for a brewery.
She had suspected, and now confirmed, that all the towns were built the same way. People lived in these areas, shops over there, industry gathered together right there, and the church set up off the main street.
And always, the Cloister at the far end of the road. As though they had all been cast from the same mold which she supposed they had.
A bitter taste filled her mouth. Best money could buy.
A large building loomed in the industrial sector. She looked for the entrance, eager to get respite from the cold. In the last of the light, she saw a large lock, its hasp cut, lying on the ground next to the door. A rusty hacksaw leaned up against the exterior wall. Sara pulled the door open and marched Maggie under the lintel.
Experimentally, she flipped the light switches. The overheads came on as a reward. She no longer worried about discovery in the vacant towns. They were always empty, remembrances of bad times.
She would make some warm food tonight. The pot should be charged. Memories of meals conjured from that pot came up, memories of food cooked for her. A pang from loss tilted at her heart.
First things first. What is this place?
There were a lot of big tanks and pipes. Valves were all over the place. Didn’t look like a brewery, not from what Brewer had told her, not from what she had seen. There were too many pipes, for one.
Taking a deep sniff through her congested nose caused her to start coughing. What was she smelling? Something almost familiar. It tickled her memory.
She propped her spear against one of the tanks. There was a grime-covered sign above her head on the vessel. A little shelf went around the tank at shoulder height. Maybe if she climbed on it, she could wipe the sign and see what it said.
A moment later, the toes of her boots gripped the ledge, her arms spread wide around the cylinder.
This was not a good idea. Trying to breathe shallowly, she brought her right hand up to the sign. Holding the sleeve of the coat, she tried to wipe the sign.
Her balance was different now. Too late she realized it had changed. She fell backward. She tried grabbing at the tank. Down she went, landing on her ass and knocking her spear down.
Dignity and smarting posterior notwithstanding, she was okay. She looked at the fallen spear and relief flooded over her. That had been stupid.
Standing, she rubbed her back side and gave an experimental twist to her hips. The plate lay on the ground. She walked to it and wiped it on her coat leaving rust colored streaks on the fabric.
Acetone.
Her eyes widened. She ran, looking for a ladder to climb to check the placards on the tanks.
An hour or so later left her with a clearer picture of the chemical plant she was in. She stood in the middle of the floor thinking about the capabilities it represented.
Maggie was whinnying by the entrance. Sara’s hand went to her brow, rubbing her temples. She had forgotten to feed her.
“Hold on, Maggie. I’m coming.”
There was movement out of the corner of her eye.
Adrenaline kicked in. She ran.
Crap! My spear!
There was movement up ahead. Must be two of them at least. A figure stepped out, arms outstretched. She barely made the turn, cutting between two tanks.
“Don’t let her get out.”
Sara wasn’t trying to get out. The spear was just ahead. She came out in the next aisle over. There! She raced to it.
Someone tackled her from the side.
“Omphf!” The man’s weight fell on her.
She twisted around, flailed at his head, and boxed his ears. The man released her, brought his hands up. She kicked at him, connected, and scurried away. Standing, she turned to her goal.
The other man came out from behind the tanks, between her and the weapon.
“Come on, girlie. We’s not gonna hurt you. We’s just want ta have a lil’ fun.”
She kept her eyes on him, not daring to look away or look past him to the spear. There was a moan from behind her.
“Aay, ‘arry, you getting up?”
“Oooh, just a minute,” the man groaned.
Sara felt a tight smile curl her lip.
The standing man was trying to move closer, pushing her away from her objective. Harry was struggling to his feet. She had to make her move.
She backed away, trying to circle around him and avoid getting put between the two men. She had a plan, a risky plan, but what choice did she have? She needed to get the spear. It caused her to hesitate.
The standing man saw this and rushed her. She jumped to the side and went as fast as she could.
It wasn’t fast enough. His hand caught her coat. Down she went, flat on her stomach.
She yelled, tried to lose the coat, anything to scramble closer to the weapon. It was just beyond her reach.
“Oh no, you don’t. ‘Arry, get it in gear!”
Hands pawed at her, dragging her back.
A clamorous clattering reverberated, coming closer.
She frantically tried to find purchase, get the damn coat off. Anything. She was losing ground.
Strong hands now gripped her ankles, forcing her legs apart. Kicking didn’t loose them. Both of the men were on her now.
A loud neigh. A resounding clomping. Her legs were free.
“Argh!”
On all fours, she scrabbled for the spear. Grabbing it, she turned and crouched, ready to strike.
Maggie reared on her hind legs. Forelimbs swiped at the remaining man. The other lay on the ground, blood on his head.
The still standing man took one look at her and turned to run. Sara reached back with the spear and let it fly.
It went true and got the man between the shoulder blades. Down he went. She ran to him. Putting her foot on his back, she pulled the point out, ready to strike again. Blood dripped down from it onto his clothes. He didn’t react at all. He was still. He didn’t look like he was going to be doing anything.
She went over to the other man. This one’s chest moved up and down. She readied the spear and stopped.
There must be something to tie him up with.
* * *
There were a surprising number of chains and locks in the plant. And a board with every key hanging on it. All labeled. Very handy. Sara squeezed the man’s wrist into the hasp of one of the big locks. With a chain in it, there was no play. She secured the other end of the chain to a flange on one of the tanks. He wasn’t going anywhere.
While he lay there, she went to tend to Maggie.
“Good girl, good girl.” She gave her a rubdown with a spare coat. Fed her.
“Uhh.” The man stirred.
Sara got her spear and went to face her captive.
He had sat himself up against the tank. His head rolled and his eyes blinked slowly. Dried blood caked his hair, lining the side of his face.
She held the tip of the spear chest level on the sitting man.
“Oh, hey girlie, no need fer that. Come on.” He gave her a big smile. “We weren’t about ta hurt you. Just wanted a lil’ fun wit ya.”
“I know your idea of fun. Don’t mess with me. You’re going to answer my questions.”
“Ha, little girl talking tough. Where’s Harry?”
“I killed him. I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again. I’ll run you through without hesitation. I ask the questions.” Sara grimaced at him.
The man blinked at her. The smile disappeared. “Now, why’d you go off an do that?” His face hardened. “Tell you what, you cut me loose, like a good girl, and I promise nothing bad’s going ta happen.” His lips curled up.
Sara shuddered. The tip of the spear withdrew. A grin grew on the man’s face.
She whipped the tail end of the spear around and caught him on the jaw. The man fell over.
“You listen to me, you piece of Gaia-forsaken trash, you don’t call the shots. You do what I tell you and you’re going to start by telling me what you and your buddy were doing here.”
The man righted himself. While rubbing his jaw, he glared at her. He spit a glob of blood at her. It landed just short of her boots.
“What, so’s you can kill me after I answer?”
“I promise I won’t kill you.”
He waited a few seconds before he responded. “You making a big mistake, girlie. Lystra ain’t gonna be happy.”
“Don’t care what Lystra thinks.” She prodded his chest with the tip of the spear. The man winced. “I’d be more concerned about keeping me happy at the moment.”
“Stop pokin’ me! Fine. Damn bitch. We’s ran away from her army. We’s were having a hard time living out here so’s we thought we’d re-up wit her. Buts yous needs to bring sumtin valuable wit ya. Know what I mean?” He tried smiling again at her.
Sara’s knuckles went white on the shaft. She bored holes in him with her eyes until he started to squirm. “I bet I do.” Pulling back, she put the butt of the spear down. She opened her coat and rubbed her belly.
The man’s eyes went wide. “You expecting? Woo, that’s rich. You a dead woman!”
Sara stopped. Spear in both hands, she prodded him. “Talk!”
The man shook his head and kept his mouth closed.
She rested the spear again. What to do? A thought occurred to her. Now it was her turn to smile.
Turning around, she left the captive and went a couple of aisles over to the control panel she had found.
“Hey! Hey, watcha doing? Don’t you be running off and leaving ol’ Luke here like this. Hey! Talking to ya!”
Sara studied the options on the screen. A low whistle escaped her lips. A few selections later and the machinery whirred to life. Now to go and find some additional items.
* * *
It was a fitful night. Luke finally stopped yelling when his voice grew hoarse. Sara peeked at him from around a tank. He looked asleep, back against the vessel. She hoped he would stay asleep for a while. It would make things easier.
The man mumbled something. She ducked back and went to check on what she had started.
Some of the jobs were ready. She gathered the results of the runs and packed them into her bags for the morning. Separate bags of course. Individually, they were safe until put together. She kept one item out. It would be needed later today.
The last item was still being made. It was definitely not safe. Best to not even think about it. A shudder ran through her.
In the morning, then. Time for sleep.
* * *
“Hey you! You still here?” The man looked around as he worried the hasp of the lock on his wrist.
“Oh yes. Got a present for you.”
Sara waddled out from between two stainless steel tubs holding a twin to the cylinder on Maggie’s back in her hands. With slow, deliberate steps, she made her way to just beyond the reach of the man and gently put it down.
“Whatcha got there?”
She pulled out a small knob, peeled the plastic off the back, gave it a twist and ever so gently adhered it to the metal skin of the cylinder closest to the man. She then backed away.
“What kind of present is that?” said Luke.
Sara smiled. “Death. That is five gallons of chlorine trifluoride. It will eat through everything. It’s going to leave a huge hole in the ground. Being anywhere near it is curtains. I put a twenty minute fuse on it. You like fun, right? When it goes off, the fun will start. You try to take it off and it will go off sooner.”
The man stood and pressed himself against the tank he was chained to. “You promised you weren’t a going to kill me!”
“I’m not. Here.” She went back between the tanks and emerged with a rusty hacksaw. Putting it on the ground, she slid it over toward him with her foot. “You can try to cut through the metal of the lock. Don’t know how long that’ll take. Bet it takes a while. Or your wrist. Up to you.”
She turned and walked away.
“You can’t do this! I’ll get you for this! I’ll use that spear of yours ta rape ya! You Gaia witch!”
Sara led Maggie out of the chemical plant. The quiet was refreshing. On the horse, the streets, the gatehouse, and the whole town fell away as the miles passed.
Around lunch time, she pulled out the last of the cheese. She wrinkled her nose at it but forced it down anyway. Her stomach was finally recovering. With some regret, she realized that she didn’t make her hot meal last night, what with all the commotion. Maybe tonight. It depended on how the day went. She found herself thinking about the meals Brewer had made for her while she ate on the horse. Eating while riding had become a habit for her.
Ahead was a disturbed area of ground. A really big area, big enough for an army.
Sara slowed. Riding into it, she could see old fire pits. The smell of latrine wells hung in the air. There was debris throughout the area. She absently rubbed her belly.
There was a trampled path going due west. Even she couldn’t miss the signs in the ruined ground.
Sara pointed the horse in that direction.