Read Online Borderlands: The Fallen by John Shirley - Free Book Online
Authors: John Shirley
Tags: Fiction
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wasn’t no way a fair one! You rolled the bones, you cheated on it!”
“You gonna pay up or not?”
“I ain’t paying no skagbuggerin’ cheater!”
“What’d you call me?!”
There was the
boom
of a gun then, and a scream; the chatter of an automatic weapon returning fire. Another scream. Quiet. Then a burst of laughter.
“Lookit that—they done killed each other! Ha!”
“Well, who gets their stuff? Let’s roll the bones for it!”
She shuddered and lay back down. Amazing they could even speak, these men, form something like sentences. They were animals in human form.
She waited, making up her mind.
Tonight.
She thought about Zac, and Cal. She pictured them finding one another somehow. She imagined Zac taking care of Cal, getting their son to the nearest settlement. Then he’d organize a search party—a heavily armed search party—to bring her to safety.
But she couldn’t wait for that. It would take too long, if it happened at all. And it wasn’t all that likely. Zac wasn’t a terribly efficient guy.
She counted off seconds, minutes, to keep her mind busy. She ate a little of the salty, barely palatable puree in the food tubes; she drank a little water.
She’d need her strength …
Sometime close to dawn, the men quieted down. Marla pressed her ear to the hatch, heard someone snoring. They were asleep. Maybe there was a bandit standing sentry but chances were the guard would be looking outward from the bandit camp, watching for wild beasts or enemies.
Time to take the risk.
She took the uni and a few other items from her bag, stuffed them in her pockets with the remaining food tubes and a little plastic packet of water. She had no idea what the weather was like—probably cold at night, as in most desert places. She had only her tight traveler’s coveralls but they were designed to be insulated for anything but extreme temperatures.
She whispered, “Computer! Can you hear me? Please respond softly.”
“I hear,”
came the soft, artificial voice.
“Computer—are you in touch with the Study Station? With anyone who can assist?”
“I am unable to establish contact. Mayday signaler is in the right-hand compartment. However it is likely nonoperational since it has not been recharged for three years. My own operational charge is nearly used up
.”
“Okay, computer—open the hatch. If you can open it slowly, do so.”
“Opening hatch.”
The hatch of the lifeboat hummed slowly open. Cool night air, freighted with campfire smoke, drifted in to her. She took a deep breath, then got to her knees on the compartment cushion, looked furtively around.
She saw two campfires, one on either side of the low, flatbed truck a few strides away. Men were sprawled besidethe guttering fires. She saw only one sentry, his back to her, about ten meters away, leaning on a large, pipe-like weapon.
She stretched a little, then climbed as slowly as she could out of the lifeboat compartment, feeling the truck bed with her feet.
She got her feet under her, crouched beside the lifeboat, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The moon seemed to glare down at her. She had the odd idea that it was watching her; that it might call out a warning to the bandits.
She took a long slow breath and then climbed off the truck, onto the sandy ground—and paused, wondering if she could get into its cab, start it up, drive it off into the darkness. Escape that way. But the sentry would fire that big weapon at the truck—probably some kind of rocket launcher—and he’d blow her up before she got far. Anyway, she had no idea if she could get the vehicle started. No, she had to go afoot, and quickly.
She crouched, hunched over, making her way to the deeper shadow away from the fires. She could smell the bandits—rank, rotten. She saw the shapes of cactus-like plants silhouetted against the gray background of the desert. She heard a sound, beyond the snoring of the men—breakers. An ocean. Beach somewhere nearby. It was
“You gonna pay up or not?”
“I ain’t paying no skagbuggerin’ cheater!”
“What’d you call me?!”
There was the
boom
of a gun then, and a scream; the chatter of an automatic weapon returning fire. Another scream. Quiet. Then a burst of laughter.
“Lookit that—they done killed each other! Ha!”
“Well, who gets their stuff? Let’s roll the bones for it!”
She shuddered and lay back down. Amazing they could even speak, these men, form something like sentences. They were animals in human form.
She waited, making up her mind.
Tonight.
She thought about Zac, and Cal. She pictured them finding one another somehow. She imagined Zac taking care of Cal, getting their son to the nearest settlement. Then he’d organize a search party—a heavily armed search party—to bring her to safety.
But she couldn’t wait for that. It would take too long, if it happened at all. And it wasn’t all that likely. Zac wasn’t a terribly efficient guy.
She counted off seconds, minutes, to keep her mind busy. She ate a little of the salty, barely palatable puree in the food tubes; she drank a little water.
She’d need her strength …
Sometime close to dawn, the men quieted down. Marla pressed her ear to the hatch, heard someone snoring. They were asleep. Maybe there was a bandit standing sentry but chances were the guard would be looking outward from the bandit camp, watching for wild beasts or enemies.
Time to take the risk.
She took the uni and a few other items from her bag, stuffed them in her pockets with the remaining food tubes and a little plastic packet of water. She had no idea what the weather was like—probably cold at night, as in most desert places. She had only her tight traveler’s coveralls but they were designed to be insulated for anything but extreme temperatures.
She whispered, “Computer! Can you hear me? Please respond softly.”
“I hear,”
came the soft, artificial voice.
“Computer—are you in touch with the Study Station? With anyone who can assist?”
“I am unable to establish contact. Mayday signaler is in the right-hand compartment. However it is likely nonoperational since it has not been recharged for three years. My own operational charge is nearly used up
.”
“Okay, computer—open the hatch. If you can open it slowly, do so.”
“Opening hatch.”
The hatch of the lifeboat hummed slowly open. Cool night air, freighted with campfire smoke, drifted in to her. She took a deep breath, then got to her knees on the compartment cushion, looked furtively around.
She saw two campfires, one on either side of the low, flatbed truck a few strides away. Men were sprawled besidethe guttering fires. She saw only one sentry, his back to her, about ten meters away, leaning on a large, pipe-like weapon.
She stretched a little, then climbed as slowly as she could out of the lifeboat compartment, feeling the truck bed with her feet.
She got her feet under her, crouched beside the lifeboat, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The moon seemed to glare down at her. She had the odd idea that it was watching her; that it might call out a warning to the bandits.
She took a long slow breath and then climbed off the truck, onto the sandy ground—and paused, wondering if she could get into its cab, start it up, drive it off into the darkness. Escape that way. But the sentry would fire that big weapon at the truck—probably some kind of rocket launcher—and he’d blow her up before she got far. Anyway, she had no idea if she could get the vehicle started. No, she had to go afoot, and quickly.
She crouched, hunched over, making her way to the deeper shadow away from the fires. She could smell the bandits—rank, rotten. She saw the shapes of cactus-like plants silhouetted against the gray background of the desert. She heard a sound, beyond the snoring of the men—breakers. An ocean. Beach somewhere nearby. It was
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