Ice in the Desert Chunk 1

 “Bad news from the zone, tumbleweeds,” says Dr. Death-Defying over the radio in his cryptic, somewhat confusing expressions, “It looks like Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid had a clap with an Exterminator that went all out, and, uh, got themselves ghosted, dusted out on Route Ghauno.” he pauses for a second, allowing the information to sink in. “So it's time to hit the red line and upthrust the volume out there. Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to.”

I turn off the radio and look at my partner with a startled look. “They got Jet-Star.” I say, my voice betraying my shock. He stares out the dusty window of our hideout, an old beaten-up manor lovingly named the Dust Bunny. Coulgant, the one who I called partner even though he's far superior to me, found this little windblown place a couple years ago.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he answers calmly. “Jet-Star was asking for it. You don't just challenge them like that. You know that, Viney.” he says, and I know he's right. Jet-Star was far too confident about his abilities, and while it was said that he was highly talented, not even he could go up against the Exterminators. I'd heard of him before, and had been told that he had glowed with confidence. He thought he was sure to turn our world around. Kobra Kid, however, wasn't anyone I'd heard of. Must've been a new Killjoy.

The Killjoys. The name alone makes my spirits lift. Our ray of sunshine over the radio for the past few months. They came out of nowhere, killing some of them, rebelling as hard as they could, and spreading their name and the name of their leader, Jet-Star. Never before had a solid group like that emerged, let alone actually get somewhere in what seemed to be a pointless struggle.

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” I say. Coulgant is almost always right, and I learned a long time ago that it was better if I didn't argue with him, because I was certain to make a fool of myself. Coulgant is tall, far taller than I am, with almost freakishly long arms and legs. Light-blond hair that went down to his chin was pushed behind his ears in a vain attempt to keep it out of a sun-burnt and freckled face adorned with a constant frown. His eyes are sky-blue, emotionless, and cold. He's fifteen, just two years older than I am. He was in a tattered white t-shirt, with a dirty yellow vest, and a dusty pair of jeans. Currently his steely eyes are hidden behind sunglasses. He's experienced and clever, armed with street-smarts and the physical power to back them up. To this day I still don't know why he keeps me with him.

I'm just thirteen, a tad short for my age, and am built like a string-bean. My hair is blonde like his, except mine is longer and frizzy. Skin is pealing off my face and shoulders from the constant desert sunburns. My eyes are similar to his, icy blue, but instead of hardness, he says mine betray even the slightest of my emotions. Because of our hair and eyes, people have mistaken us for brother and sister before. I'm clad in a faded blue tank-top, with khaki shorts and a golden bandanna around my neck. I suppose I'm not the worst person to travel with; I'm stealthy and agile, pretty quiet, and I can be brave on occasions. However, I'm a little bit on the timid side and I don't have strength like Coulgant does. He's good at everything.

“Well, life goes on.” he looks out the window at the sun. “It's about time for you to go out. If you wait much longer you might get caught out in the dark,” he pauses for emphasis, “And you don't want that.”

“I know,” I reply, “Should I try the shortcut in to save time?”

“No. We're short on supplies, and the long road into the city is what we use for a reason.” he responds.

“But... won't it take longer? I'm 'lready short on time.” I say, feeling nervous simply by thinking about what will happen if I get caught out at night. The Vampires will start searching for wanderers, and if they catch me, I'll be as good as dead.

“You'll be fine. You've played this game long enough to know what you're doing.” he says casually. I feel a little elated by this rare praise; if Coulgant thinks I'm ready, then I'll be just fine.

“ 'Kay then.” I say, and I stand up from my spot by the radio, and gather my equipment. It isn't much: a canteen of mostly clean water, a handgun that has served me well, my own sunglasses, and ponytail-holder for my hair. Before leaving, I pull my bandanna up over my nose, not just to conceal my identity, but to keep out the dust of the desert as well.

I open the door, and step out into the fading sunlight. I squint, even with the sunglasses. This is the safest time of the day because the sun isn't high enough for the Exterminators to see me and incinerate me, and it isn't dark enough for the Vampires to come out yet. I shut the door, look around me at the empty desert for a second, then bolt for the main road. The less time I spend traveling, the more I can spend scavenging. I'm glad the Coulgant didn't send me out to Route Ghauno, as that's where the Exterminators ghosted Jet-Star. He wouldn't have; the place would still be crawling with them, out to kill us.

I finish my sprint, and I take a brief moment to catch my breath and glance around to make sure nothing was on my tail. I was clear, I've always been. It's just better safe then sorry. You don't need them to catch you off guard. I study the sun for a brief moment, and conclude that I have about an hour left to dig around. The bad thing about scavenging at sunset is that it really leaves you with a very short amount of time to scramble around. It's hard to do a thorough job.

I start dashing again, and I come along the safe-house. It's really just a big pile of truly useless junk with a hole in the top that you could hide in. I scrambled up the trash pile, hopping down into the hole eagerly to see what's there. “Yes!” I hiss softly under my breath when I find the little steel can with its tightly fastened lid. I pry at it for a couple minutes, and it gives way with a soft 'pop'. I peek under the lid, and to my delight, there's a couple of sandwiches scrunched up in a plastic bag. I shove the bag into one of my pockets, and I hop back out of the hole.

I've never been entirely sure who puts stuff into that old steel can. Occasionally when I check, there's the can with its lid back on, like a gift. I'm not the only one who finds it; I've ran into other kids leaving with the prize, and sometimes it's already empty when I get there. Someone out there, though, has enough food and equipment to share, and the generousness to do so. Coming here always reminds me that there's still some good left in the world after all.

I grin and stumble back down the pile, and start traveling down the road again. It takes me a couple minutes to make it into Battery City, and then I start to hide in the evening shadows. Battery City, ruled by tyrants using Exterminators, day hunters, and Vampires, night hunters, to keep everyone in line, is a living hell. The rusted buildings, filled with those whose lives are hollow and empty, the tall white towers, where the darkest part of the city is, and us rebels out on the street, who refuse to comply with any of it. We don't really do any actual rebelling most of the time, we mostly just wander around the streets and steal junk.

I pick around some piles on the outside fences, and pick out a faded blue windbreaker. It's in good quality, and the color isn't too bright as to attract unwanted attention. It would be good for sleeping in on the cold nights, which were fairly common in the desert. Scorching days, freezing nights. I tie the sleeves of the windbreaker around my waist, and move on.

I head a little deeper, and start to see the residents of Battery City. Pitiful folks, who possess dead eyes, broken spirits, and lives worse then those of people like me. These adults have no help left for them. That's why so many of us rebels are young: We ran off before our souls were broken. I shudder and try to ignore their vaguely curious stares. I duck into an alleyway, and poke around some bags in there. Battery City is a filthy place, so this trash is everywhere. It's not an ideal life, digging through the trash, but it's better than living in the city, living the empty lives of people that are as good as dead.

Digging a little deeper, I find a stale bag of cookies. I briefly wonder why anyone would throw out food, especially cookies like these. My mouth waters, and I tell myself that I have to restrain myself until tonight. I glance at the horizon, and my heart skips a beat as I see the last of the sun start to disappear.

 How did I not notice? No matter. I have to go, and now. I dart out of the alley, adrenaline and panic heightening my senses and giving me the energy to run. Desperation creeps in as I see stars starting to appear in the sky. I swore that I could heard an extra footstep, but I dare not look behind me to see.

I get about halfway back, and I figure that I'm safe enough to rest for a second. I grip my knees, bent over, gasping for breath, and I tilt my head upwards to check my surroundings. It all looks fine right now, though my night-vision isn't the best. I risk a quick behind me, and I nearly scream when I see a group of dark silhouettes, Vampires, they had to be Vampires, off in the distance. I don't know whether or not they're after me, and I don't care. I need to get out of here, and now.

However, there's a problem. I'm out in the middle of the desert, as well as perfectly exposed. If I move, they might see me. If I don't, they still might see me. If I kick a rock on accident and it bounces on the ground, they'll hear it and catch me. Silent tears roll down my cheeks, cold in the night air on my face, as I see my slim chances of escape.

Think, Viney, Think! I scream silently at my self. Coulgant wouldn't have this problem. He'd know what to do, and more importantly, he wouldn't get into this situation in the first place. In the end, I just quietly press myself against the ground, hoping their sharp gazes might pass over me. Coulgant is in my mind now, and I wonder what he's thinking. Has he given up hope, is he out searching for me, or is he just staring out the front window, head in his hands, hoping that I might by some miracle come back?

I cringe when I hear their voices float over the open desert. I can hear their footsteps now, I can see them coming closer to me. They must've spotted me, there's no other explanation for it. I wonder what will happen to me, whether they'll take me hostage, make me suffer a long death out here, alone in the desert, or just end me quickly. The thing is, no one knows. Some Vampires have been killed, but only before they had the chance to retaliate. Speed and surprise are our best and only advantages, and they might not even count, given our enemy can do everything we can and more.

I can't let myself just die like this, just giving myself up. I won't be another scared kid in the desert. No, I'll go down fighting. I pull out the pistol in my belt as silently as I could, and prepared to fire it. The shapes continue to approach, making their presence no secret. I gulp, and prepare for my final moments. I take one last deep breath, and then I leap up and fire rapidly at the figures, shots echoing into the night, who immediately leap into action, and start to rush me. I start reloading my gun, trying to do it as fast as possible, trying to rush it, when-- I drop the bullets, and they go skidding across hard ground. I crouch down to pick them up, knowing that my battle was lost, preparing to get a bullet through my skull any second. I look up, and to my horror, they're practically on top of me. My eyes go wide with terror.

One of them grabs my shoulder tightly, and I break down right there, dissolving into tears of surrender. I look down at the ground, bracing myself. The figures start talking.

“Whoa! This ain't a Vamp. It's just a girl, a kid!” says a shocked voice.

“Got a damn good aim, nailed me in the shoulder.” mutters another, feminine and taught with pain.

“What the hell is she doing out here?” asks another, voice gruff and filled with disapproval. Surprised by the conversation, I look up, and in the silvery moonlight, I see the faces of a girl and two boys, and I feel an overwhelming surge of relief. I choke back my tears, and, gathering my voice, I say with a slight stutter:

“W-well, you all ain't much more than kids yourselves, are ya?”

Author's Note

The writing will be placed in chunks. I write most of this late at night, so there may be some typos.

Reviews

[PsyFi Chick]

Really great beginning! I think it needs a little of editing and you have a solid story.