Wayfarers by Arnon Z. Shorr

Author:Arnon Z. Shorr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: OxRock Productions, LLC
Published: 2024-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wallkill

Carlos grips the periscope for support as the sand tank bounds across what’s left of the camp.

“The sensors aren’t picking up signs of life,” the comms officer reports.

Sensors, Carlos thinks as he’s bounced around in the tank. What use are sensors? They are missing people half the time, anyway.

But he’s not surprised. All the dust kicked up by the artillery explosions provided plenty of cover for an escape.

The comms officer perks up. Even in the noisy interior of the tank, Carlos can hear the tinny squeak of the voice in her earpiece.

“There are fresh tracks, sir,” she reports.

“Please to relay,” he barks out. “We are following the tracks. Rear units are staying here. They are searching for storage technologies that are maybe left behind. And if they are finding, they are reporting to me immediately.”

As the comms officer sends the message, Carlos hoists himself into the tank’s turret and pops open the hatch. He gets jostled again as the tank rolls onward, out of the camp and up the dune on the other side. The rumble of the vehicles that surround him is bone-rattling.

Ahead, on the dune’s slope, the tracks are visible in the lead vehicle’s spotlight. How much of a head start are they having? Ninety seconds? Two minutes? The tanks are powerful, but not as nimble as the ATVs. But if they are making it out in the water truck, we can be matching their pace.

The tanks level out onto a chaparral-covered plain, and Carlos settles in for a long ride. He doesn’t expect to overtake the fleeing rebels, but he doesn’t have to. They’ll reach the canyon soon.

The senator is maybe right about Abraham, that he can be navigating the canyon and surviving. But even Abraham will be hesitating before descending into such a dangerous place. And then I will be catching him.

Not far ahead of Carlos and the New Dominion’s advancing forces, Abe gets violently tossed around the bed of the speeding half-track. He flails about, grasping for anything that might help him stay put. Beside him, Qasim holds tightly to the canvas-bound corpse of his father.

The truck hits something large in its path. The resulting bounce launches Abe, Qasim, and the dead man a full foot into the air. They land with a hard, painful thud.

The bounce also dislodges the truck’s tailgate, which flops open, revealing the distant glare of the New Dominion’s spotlights.

“Hold on to something!” Abe shouts to Qasim.

“I can’t!” the man replies. His hands are full, hanging tight to his father.

“You could both slide right out!”

Before Abe can finish issuing the warning, the truck swerves to the right, and he is thrown against the wall of the truck bed. Qasim and Baba slide into him, hard, and his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

The truck veers back left. Qasim and Baba slide away. Abe, clinging to the lip of the wall, gasps for air. Qasim hits the opposite wall and grabs it with one hand to steady himself, his other hand still holding his father’s corpse.

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