shot,” Soltznin says decisively, and I don’t argue. Yeah, it might be a hapless local with no ill intent, but given the people we’ve met today, none of us are willing to bet on it. “Just take him out, Tech Sergeant,” she repeats.
David’s end is quiet, but I can imagine him at this moment. Calming his breathing, in and out through the nose; hardening his solar plexus and the muscles in his shoulders as his body completely stills; blinking his eyes slowly, deliberately, before bringing his carbine stock to rest naturally against his cheek. His right pointer finger hooked through the trigger guard; his right thumb cocked along the upper breech. The center of his pupil in-line directly in the center of the scope. An in-breath, an out-breath, and…
An explosion ten times louder than rifle fire cracks through the artificial stillness, and a fireball drenched in black smoke careens upward from the destroyed ATV five meters away. Then once more, and the second ATV joins the first in instant, total cremation. I flatten my body against the packed earth, as if trying to press through it, the only thing I can do to escape what my mind simply cannot understand. Something much bigger than a bullet just blew up those vehicles, and the scavs just became the outcome of a very bad day at the range. All I can think is that I’m next, and these last few hours of being a deserter were the only taste of freedom I’ll ever have.
But I’m not dead.
“Aly, get out of there!” David yells, his voice so loud I hear it from his perch as well as clanging from my VDU.
Scooting backward to try and put the gory ATV between myself and the approaching quad—where else could the artillery, if that’s what it was, have come from?—I simultaneously and clumsily try to emplace my carbine atop one knee to be ready to take a shot. The new vehicle no longer moves toward us but has stopped about twenty meters distant. As I stare, the roof swings upward and open, like a trapdoor, and someone’s head and shoulders appear.
“Don’t shoot!” the gunman yells. “It’s Drew!”
7
BROTHERLY LOVE
The moment passes like a languid breeze on a humid day while I try to make sense of what I just heard. Drew? The sixteen-year-old with the cruiser-sized chip on his shoulder? Wrapping my mind around the concept that this kid really just incinerated the scav team with some kind of explosive projectile weapons takes the last bit of energy I can spare.
Blinking several times, more to clear my disbelief than my sight, I take a closer look. His pinched, freckled face and gangly, overly long arms are unmistakable, even at this range.
I get to my feet and relax my grip on the AK. The fact that my body remains in one still-healthy piece is enough for me to forgive him for following us out here and scaring the living shit out of me. That, and the fact that he’d saved our asses.
Into my VDU, I say, “David, Soltznin, hold your fire.” Then out loud: “What the hell are you doing here, kid?”
David asks, “Aly, do you know who that is?”
Forgoing the VDU altogether, I turn and wave at him until his face appears outside the dimness of his enclave. “He’s one of the kids we met in town. Sold us the quad. I think it’s safe to come down.”
Gauging the danger to be on hold, Drew climbs clear of his weaponized vehicle and approaches. Wisely, his hands stay at shoulder height.
When he’s close enough, I ask again, “What are you doing here?”
Soltznin has stepped clear of the boulder field and stands beside me, adding, “More importantly, where did you get that ordnance?”
Drew stops a few steps away, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are wide, taking in the destruction he’d caused and never even looking toward Soltznin and me.
“Kid.” I keep my voice calm. “You can put your hands down now.”
Realizing they’re still upraised, he drops his arms quickly with an embarrassed glance at us. As I watch, his face slowly loses its
David’s end is quiet, but I can imagine him at this moment. Calming his breathing, in and out through the nose; hardening his solar plexus and the muscles in his shoulders as his body completely stills; blinking his eyes slowly, deliberately, before bringing his carbine stock to rest naturally against his cheek. His right pointer finger hooked through the trigger guard; his right thumb cocked along the upper breech. The center of his pupil in-line directly in the center of the scope. An in-breath, an out-breath, and…
An explosion ten times louder than rifle fire cracks through the artificial stillness, and a fireball drenched in black smoke careens upward from the destroyed ATV five meters away. Then once more, and the second ATV joins the first in instant, total cremation. I flatten my body against the packed earth, as if trying to press through it, the only thing I can do to escape what my mind simply cannot understand. Something much bigger than a bullet just blew up those vehicles, and the scavs just became the outcome of a very bad day at the range. All I can think is that I’m next, and these last few hours of being a deserter were the only taste of freedom I’ll ever have.
But I’m not dead.
“Aly, get out of there!” David yells, his voice so loud I hear it from his perch as well as clanging from my VDU.
Scooting backward to try and put the gory ATV between myself and the approaching quad—where else could the artillery, if that’s what it was, have come from?—I simultaneously and clumsily try to emplace my carbine atop one knee to be ready to take a shot. The new vehicle no longer moves toward us but has stopped about twenty meters distant. As I stare, the roof swings upward and open, like a trapdoor, and someone’s head and shoulders appear.
“Don’t shoot!” the gunman yells. “It’s Drew!”
7
BROTHERLY LOVE
The moment passes like a languid breeze on a humid day while I try to make sense of what I just heard. Drew? The sixteen-year-old with the cruiser-sized chip on his shoulder? Wrapping my mind around the concept that this kid really just incinerated the scav team with some kind of explosive projectile weapons takes the last bit of energy I can spare.
Blinking several times, more to clear my disbelief than my sight, I take a closer look. His pinched, freckled face and gangly, overly long arms are unmistakable, even at this range.
I get to my feet and relax my grip on the AK. The fact that my body remains in one still-healthy piece is enough for me to forgive him for following us out here and scaring the living shit out of me. That, and the fact that he’d saved our asses.
Into my VDU, I say, “David, Soltznin, hold your fire.” Then out loud: “What the hell are you doing here, kid?”
David asks, “Aly, do you know who that is?”
Forgoing the VDU altogether, I turn and wave at him until his face appears outside the dimness of his enclave. “He’s one of the kids we met in town. Sold us the quad. I think it’s safe to come down.”
Gauging the danger to be on hold, Drew climbs clear of his weaponized vehicle and approaches. Wisely, his hands stay at shoulder height.
When he’s close enough, I ask again, “What are you doing here?”
Soltznin has stepped clear of the boulder field and stands beside me, adding, “More importantly, where did you get that ordnance?”
Drew stops a few steps away, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are wide, taking in the destruction he’d caused and never even looking toward Soltznin and me.
“Kid.” I keep my voice calm. “You can put your hands down now.”
Realizing they’re still upraised, he drops his arms quickly with an embarrassed glance at us. As I watch, his face slowly loses its
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