GeneStorm: City in the Sky (23 page)

“Yes, my friend?”

“We have found another thing.”
Throckmorton carefully produced the iron crescent and placed it into Snapper’s wondering hands.
“It was near the Screamer trail.”

Snapper froze – utterly enraptured. She turned the object end over end in her hands.

“You found this? Buried deep?”

“On the surface dust.”
The plant was fascinated by Snapper’s reaction.
“Have you seen one before?”

“No. No one has. It’s quite impossible.”

Kitterpokkie gave a scowl.

“Why? Whatever is it?”

By way of answer, Snapper walked back indoors. She re-emerged a few moments later, moving with speed and excitement. She held her greatest treasure – her printed, ancient book filled with pictures of Napoleonic uniforms.

She opened the book to a particular page and spread it out flat. It showed a forge, an anvil, hussars lounging about smoking pipes, and a large brown riding animal being tended by a blacksmith. The beast was having an iron crescent fitted to one of its hooves.

Snapper carefully placed the iron object beside the book.

“
That
, my friends, is a horseshoe. From a horse.”

Throckmorton looked at the picture in fascination.

“Throckmorton has never seen a horse.”

“No one has.” The shark picked up the horseshoe and caressed it quietly.

“No purebloods survived the GeneStorm. Not one…”

Snapper placed the horse shoe beside the broken silver tube, then carefully picked up her precious book.

“Come on, there’s work to do.” She was still staring at the horse shoe.

“Two days. I want to be on the way morning after next.” The shark turned and looked off to the north.

“I think we need to hurry.”

Chapter 9

Dawn – bright dawn – rose out of the desert far to the east. Golden light chased the last blue shadows from the plains. The little floating creatures of the night dimmed their lights and sank back into their burrows and nests. Out on the open plains, herd creatures stirred and set about their business. A few predators crept forth to gaze over prospective meals. Tiny wren-mice chipped and flittered here and there all through the scrub, drinking sparkling droplets of dew.

The explorers rode out from the town at first light. Toby and Samuels accompanied them for the first few hours of the journey. Snapper took the lead, with the others coming behind in a group – Kenda at the fore and Throckmorton flying along up above, Kitterpokkie riding a lavender budgerigar, and Beau astride the ever-disturbing Pendleton. With gleaming pack beetles trotting briskly behind every rider, they made quite a cavalcade.

The expedition padded out across a landscape that still seemed broken. There were crushed crops and shattered bushes in a great, broad, trampled band that straggled to the north east. Dust still clung to bushes and trees.

They followed the Screamer tracks on through a trampled landscape, until they finally came to the boulders that marked the edge of Red-Rock gulch. Snapper looked at the tracks that led up out of the gully – many different trickles of Screamers, all meandering in the same direction. She pondered the patterns, then looked along the gorge.

Kenda rode up and pointed along the floor of the broadening gulley.

“You can spot tracks in the dried mud. They came right down here. This seems to be the only exit point.”

“Mmmm…” Snapper nodded. She began riding along the edge of the deep dip into the gully – a dip that would grow deeper and deeper over the coming kilometres. “Looks like it.”

Kenda looked dubiously at the crumbling edge of the gorge. “Might be easier to just go due north. There’s a lot of big broken rock along the banks.”

“Yep – I know it well.” The shark led the way along beside the gully, her eyes constantly scanning the way ahead, the scrub to left and right, checking the sky for predators. “We’re just taking a slight detour.”

They moved at a good trot, with Snapper pausing every few kilometres to check the gulley floor from high above. Kitterpokkie came riding her lavender budgie up beside her friend, and peered down into the gully. It was indeed an earthy red – dirt banks a dozen metres deep, and a broad floor littered with rocks. A thin brown stream still meandered between the boulders down below, but from the scrub and trees growing here and there, it seemed that the waters never rose high. The mantis kept well back from the edge.

“Ah yes, this must have been a river in ancient times. Clearly the area once saw far more rainfall. Far wetter entirely.”

“Yep. Pretty much.” Snapper pointed to some metal debris down below. “Some really old junk down there. All rusted out. Must have been there pre-GeneStorm.”

“What are we hoping to see?”

“Just an intuition I have.” The shark clucked her tongue, and Onan walked onwards. “Kitt – check your gear. You’ll want to tie down whatever’s doing that rattling.”

The mantis flushed, and hastened to mess about with her plethora of equipment. There was a gourd canteen, her water skin, blanket, saddlebags… she eventually discovered that the butt of her plasma rifle was banging rhythmically against a box of scientific instruments behind her as she rode. Shift it as she might, the science kit seemed to bang and rattle against the gun. The only solution was to finally just carry the rifle in her arms. She felt ridiculously combative, but at least noise had finally ceased. Toby rode up beside her, helped tie a loose strap behind Kitterpokkie’s saddle, then approvingly patted her budgie’s back.

“You’ll do us all proud, miss. Never you fear! Just keep listening to Snapper. She knows what she’s doing. And don’t be afraid to speak up if you notice anything.
Anything.”
The old veteran prospector rode a big bird that chattered as it ambled along. “You have a scientific eye. That’s valuable. Damned valuable!” The dog passed the girl a bottle of whiskey. “Keep this in your satchel. Even if you boil water, put some whiskey in your water bottle before you fill it. Stops it going gamey over a long day’s ride.”

“Oh!” The mantis examined the bottle. It was full to the brim with a dark brown whiskey. A home-made paper label read:

“Cobbleback’s Liche-Water,

the Embalmer’s Friend”.

“Thank you, dear Toby.” The mantis wondered if the liquor might perhaps start eating through the bottle. “Thank you.”

Toby kept his eyes on the scrublands all around them. “Now you just keep your brain ticking over and your eyes open. Away from the villages and caravan routes, the weird-lands can get a little challenging.”

They all rode onwards along the gully’s edge, with Throckmorton sailing merrily out over the drop. Samuels ambled his riding bird up beside Kitterpokkie, and cast an eye towards the bottle in her bag.

“Cobblebacks?”

“Ah yes.”

“Excellent if you need to start a fire.” Samuels tapped at the side of his beak. “Not to be taken internally.”

They rode onwards through a land made spectacular by tall mutated grasses that were striped and speckled in wonderful clear colours. Clumps of trees sheltered hanging nests occupied by little mutant butterfly bats. The creatures looped and swirled, flashing brilliant colours as they chased each other merrily through the sky.

The place had an eerie quiet. Wind sighed gently through the grasses. Small creatures in the grass made soft sounds. In the distance, Kitterpokkie caught sight of a herd of creatures browsing on the grass: agile things, part ladybug and part kangaroo. The creatures raised their heads on supple, armoured necks to watch the travellers pass by.

Beau rode merrily atop Pendleton, looking in fine form. His rather threadbare clothing had been miraculously repaired and replaced – apparently by Beth Baker, if the needlework was any clue. Resplendent in cuirass and gleaming plumage, the man cantered forward to Snapper’s side as she reached a rise up above the gorge.

The gorge became shallow here – shallow but broad. A ruined old bridge crossed the dry shallows. Huge rubble mounds clustered about the banks where an ancient town had once stood. The craters and fallen walls were overgrown with brambles.

Snapper had spent many, many weeks in her early prospecting days turning over the surface rubble and sinking dozens of test pits. There were a few pieces of scrap steel to be had – rebars and girders – but nothing of real value. The surface layers had been mined out long ago. The only building still left with any recognisable shape was a long, curved structure made from a bottle green polymer. It had been bombed – one end of the building was smashed, and the other was nothing but a gutted tower and walls – but it could be rather beautiful in the light of the setting sun. The word ‘Padbury’ was written along the side of the building in letters three metres tall.

Beau sat on his mount beside Snapper, peering down into the river shallows. He frowned as he looked out across the surrounding terrain.

“Can you see any Screamer tracks entering the gully?”

“Nothing I can see...” The shark girl scowled. “Looks clear.”

The fox-pheasant adjusted his cuffs. “Perhaps they entered the gully piecemeal? Trickled in over time…?”

“Surely they’d still have left trails?” Snapper looked down at the ground, stroking at her sabre hilt. “Even if they wandered here in twos and threes…”

She let her words drift to a halt, then adjusted her glasses. She leaned forward in her saddle.

“It’s different.”

“Different?”

“Just… looks different.”

The shark scowled and rode forward – down along the decayed tarmac that marked an ancient road. The others came cantering down to join Snapper as she reached the rubble field beside the huge old green building. The shark winced as she dismounted, and then knelt gingerly to comb her fingers across the surface of the dirt.

Dust. Rock and dust.

Snapper and Onan both inspected the layer of loose dirt. It was filled with shards from the green building, with brick and pieces of shattered ancient concrete. The shark slowly arose, throwing a handful of dirt away.

“This is recent. Everything else here is compacted down.”

Toby rode up beside her. He too knew the ruins here of old. The dust was new. Part of the old green building had newly collapsed.

“Explosives?” The old dog looked around and pointed to the riverbed. “Must be! Threw dust and rubble all over the gully. If you didn’t know the place, you wouldn’t think about it twice.”

“Yes…” Snapper looked about herself, limping as she walked. “But why? Why bother?” The shark gave a sudden blink. “Was it take-off blast from a rocket?”

“Have to be a bloody big rocket.”

Apart from newly fallen walls, there were no changes. Snapper tilted her head back to look up at Throckmorton.

“Throcky! Do you see anything?”

The plant cruised around and around in circles above the ruins. His little plant faces peered down on long necks, inspecting here and there. Finally he returned and gave an expressive shrug.

“Fallen walls. Landslides. Crater.”

“Nothing else?”

“Bug mice that are rude.”

“All righty. Thanks man.”

Snapper made her way back to Onan, and then slapped away helping hands that attempted to assist her aboard. She rode up to Toby and Samuels, and joined them in pondering the dust.

Samuels looked off across the plains.

“Keep your eyes open while you’re out there, my girl. Something damnably unpleasant’s going on.”

All three turned to face the north, out across the grasslands – off to where a faint line of clouds drifted across the horizon. Snapper settled her helmet into place, and squared back her shoulder blades.

“We’d best get going.” Snapper made a last check of her ammunition: her weapons were loaded, and there were two spare cylinders for the carbine. “I want to try and make forty or fifty k’s before nightfall. Camp at the old site by Headless Harry.”

“Solid plan.” Toby looked for some unobtrusive cover. “We’ll stay here for an hour or three – check to see if you’re being trailed.”

“Good idea.” Snapper looked quietly back along their trail. “Something’s going on. You two be careful. And keep a close watch back home.”

“We’ll keep an eye out.” Old Toby clasped Snapper’s hand. “Now go. Be a great explorer.”

Toby and Samuels watched the little team of explorers gather together. Snapper and Kitterpokkie, Beau and Throckmorton waved a farewell. Kenda gave a nod, and then the little group spurred up out of the rubble and rode away, towing their pack beetles behind them. Snapper turned at the crest of the final rise. She drew her sword and gave a suave salute. Pelisse swinging, she whirled Onan about and rode after her companions, disappearing off into the north.

Old Toby watched her go. He leaned onto the horn of his saddle, and gave a sigh.

“She’s got her mother’s tail.”

“I was just thinking that.” Samuels pushed back his helmet, and then looked about for a shady spot. “Got any more
Cobbleback’s
?”

Toby tossed the man a bottle.

“Now when have I ever let you down?”

The explorers pushed on into a beautiful wilderness. Tall tufts of beautiful mutated grass covered the plains – striped and flecked with colours taken from ancient insects, birds and herbivores. Some were spotted black and white, and there were handsome tall clumps topped with rainbow coloured strands. Here and there, great oceans of wild grain rattled in the wind. Wren-mice and bug-birds nibbled at the seeds, hopping and flitting about in curiosity to watch the visitors ride past.

The pack beetles grumbled along behind each rider, occasionally clashing their mandibles. They were big, bony hybrids – part oxen, part jewel beetle, and were wonderfully robust. They were also amazingly unfussy eaters, able to scavenge easily in unknown terrain.

Kitterpokkie had spent a long morning in the saddle and her bottom was cramping in some most unusual places. She shifted about on her saddle, wincing but trying to remain quite stoic.

Snapper ranged ahead of the main group from time to time, moving to see past clumps of trees or grass from different angles, ever alert. She came cantering back on Onan, who was overjoyed to be out in the wilds again. The shark circled around to ride beside Kitterpokkie, who was trying her best to keep her bird on a straight course beside the others. Kitterpokkie jounced uncomfortably along, a pained expression on her face.

“Oh! I shall never get used to it! It wreaks havoc with my nethers!” The mantis tried to keep her abdomen up above her mount. “Though the bird is the dearest creature! Most well behaved. I’m sure we shall get on.”

“Well we picked you a quiet one.” Snapper had seen to the arrangements herself: Kitterpokkie had been set up with an amiable lavender budgerigar with a bright twinkling eye. The bird whistled and twittered as they rode. “She’ll look after you. Don’t worry.”