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Authors: Pauline Baird Jones
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over it without getting blown who knew where? Or dying a fiery death when they ran into some part of it because they didnât see it until it was too late? Unless they ran out of fuel first and sank into the rising water. She didnât want to look at fuel consumption. Need-to-know did not equate to want-to-know. So she looked at Joe.
He looked tired and tense, with sweat gleaming on his paler-than-usual purple skin. She mopped his face again, wincing at the thought of what she must look like. Bad enough to feel like beaucoup crapeau on a cracker, she didnât want to think she looked the part. Never had she missed temperature control moreâinside the suit and out. The news vids had been full of possible power outages in the wake of WTF. Her what-the- crapeau thoughts about that had centered more on access to news and entertainment. Maybe some cooking. She was spoiled. They all were. And what if they did have to abandon the skimmer? How good would their gear be? Based on current experienceâabout as good as beaucoup crapeau on a cracker. It was supposed to âprotect in a variety of conditions,â but it wasnât Supermanâs clothes. Or even the Iron Manâs suit. If one of them got slammed into, oh, a pillar or a tree, it was going to hurt. Possibly fatally. Could have done without this opportunity to test it under field conditions. Later sheâd worry about being dehydrated in one-thousand-percent humidity and having to explore the 72âr kit. If they lived long enough.
âBased on current patterns of consumption and the continuation of current conditions, we will not have sufficient fuel to return to the city if we cannot reach the airport within two hours.â
It was not a vid news flash. Vi studied her map, trying to hurry and also be thorough while rising panic tried to steal her concentration. It had a solid foothold in her chest. Right next to that, abandoned hope. She wasnât just field testing their gear. She was finding out a lot of about herself. So far she wasnât that impressed with either. She studied the screen like it had the answer to lifeâs most important questions. She frowned. It kind of did if the question was survival.
âIf we can get over I-10, we could try sixty-one. I donât think it was ever a freeway, but it does cut through that part of the city more or less directly, at least it does up top. Might go west too much, though.â It wasnât a route she was terribly familiar with. Across the river might as well be the moon. She hadnât been to the moon. Crapeau . She didnât have time to mourn her unrealized bucket list because they hadnât cleared the feeder band yet. Or theyâd moved through one into another one. Sheâd never have made it this far without Joe on the stick. Zipping around in fair weather using tech did not a real pilot make. She was really just a little better than a taxi-skimmer driver, she decided bitterly. If they survived, she was going to learn how to fly, not just drive. Should she be adding to her bucket list right now?
Joe was silent for what felt like a long time but probably wasnât. âI think we must follow this I-10 until we find a break or least a lower profile barrier. Or the wind moderates. I donât know, of course, but I would not like to risk a higher altitude until we have cleared the feeder band. Or try to fight a tail wind with our fuel reserves so low.â
Based on their single turn back at the cemetery, and their progress down this fairly short streetâyeah, they should look for a break. And pray for a miracle.
Joeâs gaze turned inward, almost as if he spoke to someone. It was a bit weird and boosted his geek vibes, which of course she liked. Because she was clearly insane. Here she was thinking how cute he looked when they were about a millimeter from dying. Or maybe that was millisecond. Could she be any more shallow? Sadly, the answer to
He looked tired and tense, with sweat gleaming on his paler-than-usual purple skin. She mopped his face again, wincing at the thought of what she must look like. Bad enough to feel like beaucoup crapeau on a cracker, she didnât want to think she looked the part. Never had she missed temperature control moreâinside the suit and out. The news vids had been full of possible power outages in the wake of WTF. Her what-the- crapeau thoughts about that had centered more on access to news and entertainment. Maybe some cooking. She was spoiled. They all were. And what if they did have to abandon the skimmer? How good would their gear be? Based on current experienceâabout as good as beaucoup crapeau on a cracker. It was supposed to âprotect in a variety of conditions,â but it wasnât Supermanâs clothes. Or even the Iron Manâs suit. If one of them got slammed into, oh, a pillar or a tree, it was going to hurt. Possibly fatally. Could have done without this opportunity to test it under field conditions. Later sheâd worry about being dehydrated in one-thousand-percent humidity and having to explore the 72âr kit. If they lived long enough.
âBased on current patterns of consumption and the continuation of current conditions, we will not have sufficient fuel to return to the city if we cannot reach the airport within two hours.â
It was not a vid news flash. Vi studied her map, trying to hurry and also be thorough while rising panic tried to steal her concentration. It had a solid foothold in her chest. Right next to that, abandoned hope. She wasnât just field testing their gear. She was finding out a lot of about herself. So far she wasnât that impressed with either. She studied the screen like it had the answer to lifeâs most important questions. She frowned. It kind of did if the question was survival.
âIf we can get over I-10, we could try sixty-one. I donât think it was ever a freeway, but it does cut through that part of the city more or less directly, at least it does up top. Might go west too much, though.â It wasnât a route she was terribly familiar with. Across the river might as well be the moon. She hadnât been to the moon. Crapeau . She didnât have time to mourn her unrealized bucket list because they hadnât cleared the feeder band yet. Or theyâd moved through one into another one. Sheâd never have made it this far without Joe on the stick. Zipping around in fair weather using tech did not a real pilot make. She was really just a little better than a taxi-skimmer driver, she decided bitterly. If they survived, she was going to learn how to fly, not just drive. Should she be adding to her bucket list right now?
Joe was silent for what felt like a long time but probably wasnât. âI think we must follow this I-10 until we find a break or least a lower profile barrier. Or the wind moderates. I donât know, of course, but I would not like to risk a higher altitude until we have cleared the feeder band. Or try to fight a tail wind with our fuel reserves so low.â
Based on their single turn back at the cemetery, and their progress down this fairly short streetâyeah, they should look for a break. And pray for a miracle.
Joeâs gaze turned inward, almost as if he spoke to someone. It was a bit weird and boosted his geek vibes, which of course she liked. Because she was clearly insane. Here she was thinking how cute he looked when they were about a millimeter from dying. Or maybe that was millisecond. Could she be any more shallow? Sadly, the answer to
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