GeneStorm: City in the Sky (30 page)

Onan demanded a salty cracker, and then helpfully extended his feet to allow Snapper to fit him into his suit. They had practiced this three times before. The bird waddled about once he was dressed, quite pleased with his performance.

“Good birdie!”

Kitt pulled on her suit, shrugging her many limbs into the equipment and tightening her straps.

“Alright! Everyone give your mounts a drink, then fill your water bottles.” Water bottles with straws had been provided. But once broken out of their lead wrappings and used, they would have to be discarded. “Check your seals!”

“I sure hope there’s water up there, or we’re royally screwed.” Snapper squeezed drink from her water skin into Onan’s mouth, then moved on to water her pack beetle. “Alrighty! I think we’re done. Last check, then mask up!”

The ferals were watching the preparations in interest and awe. The huge star-painted warrior came forward to Kitterpokkie and Snapper, and lifted up his hands.

“A watch will be kept. Warriors will be ready to aid you when you return.”
The big man rested a hand upon first Kitt’s shoulder, then Snappers.
“The spirits of the Blending go with you.”

One by one, pack animals and riding beasts were fitted with breathing masks. The adventurers all pulled on their heavy, shielded gas masks, checked their straps and fastenings one last time, then raised hands in farewell to the feral warriors. Leading the animals behind them, the team moved down into the valley, breathing heavily inside the stiff lead and leather suits.

Snapper plodded forward in the lead. Throckmorton hovered high above, hopefully out of range of both radiation and dust. He honked his horn from time to time to keep everyone aware of his presence. The group slowly made their way forward along the hard-packed dirt of the valley floor, then finally up onto the ridge.

Without plant life holding down the soil, wind and rain had eroded away the topsoil, leaving the hard bones that lay beneath. The ridge was made from great flat stone slabs – all of them tilted and jumbled, so that it seemed as though a massive spinal column had somehow burst up out of the earth. Snapper peered through the small glass eye-windows of her suit, looking for the best way forward. She found a potential path off and along the ridge, and moved doggedly onward, towing Onan and a beetle along in her wake. Her lead-lined boots plodded softly and heavily with every step.

The suits were heavy, but not unbearable. The main problem came from simple lack of ventilation – leather and lead made each suit a personal sweat box. Slow, steady movement was the key – nothing too hurried. But in a few hours the damned things would be unbearable. The more swiftly the radiation zone was passed, the better.

On, on along the rocks, with the pack animals swaying and plodding – Onan clumsy in his lead-lined footwear. Throckmorton fought to make headway against a sudden breeze that came stuttering and swirling from the north. Some dust arose and whipped past, clinging against the leather suits. Snapper tried to sweep the stuff clear, her skin crawling as she imagined radiation eating through her hide.

They walked for an hour or more, moving steadily along the ridgeline. The suits grew hotter and hotter. Glass eyepieces began to fog. Snapper shook her head, trying to free the drops away from the glass, but only managed to make a few clear runnels. Navigating with difficulty, she stumbled onwards, heaving up and over a great tumbled pile of rocks.

Her eye pieces gave a vague view to the east, where a winding valley now lay choked with dust. Beau and Kenda clumped up beside Snapper and looked out over the scene. Beau pointed to old ruins capping a nearby hill, and Snapper nodded.

“That was the old route Toby and Samuels used to take. It had a concrete pavement – thick! The wind used to sweep it clear.” She shook her head again, trying to clear her view. “Looks like some sort of dust avalanche covered the thing.”

Beau nodded. His voice was absurdly muffled by his mask. “Will the way through the cliffs be open? Might the dust have filled up the pass?”

“Shouldn’t have. Not the way they described it.” Snapper pointed towards the clear notch in the cliffs. “Eight k’s thattaway. Let’s pick up the pace.”

The sun had risen into full morning. At the rate that they were going, there was still another three hours before they would reach the cliffs. The wind gusted, filling the valley with a haze of deadly dust.

Thank the God-Fish for Kitterpokkie and her inventions.

Snapper saw Throckmorton up above – rapidly tiring in the wind. She signalled to him, and the plant thankfully cast down a line of cord. The shark anchored him to Onan, who could tow the plant along like a kite and save poor Throckmorton from exhaustion. Snapper patted the big cockatoo, knowing just how hot the poor creature had to be.

On they walked, plodding forward in their overheated, clumsy suits, heading downhill. Kilometre after kilometre, on across the rocks, pushing north at a steady, punishing pace.

The march slowly became agony.

There was no grass, no scrub, no sign of insect life. No flying creatures flitted through the air high above. With the sun approaching mid day, the ground soaked up the heat, making the place into a slow, dull skillet. The suits chafed – it was hard to breathe in through the filter masks. Every motion had become a labour. After another weary hour, the rocky ridge finally petered out. There was five hundred metres of open dirt across the valley floor. Snapper halted at the last patch of exposed rock, and the others gathered slowly beside her. Exhausted, the shark shook her head, this time clearing her eyepieces of sweat. She looked at the empty valley, then over at the rock ridge half a kilometre away.

“Kitt, can we take the suits off? Up there on the rocks? Take a breather?”

“We don’t dare! Not till we’re clear.” The mantis pointed at the dust here and there on everyone’s suits. “Dust each other off. Then take water. We have to keep going.” The mantis was soldiering on, but only just. “The cliffs are closer – see? Only an hour more. Only another hour.”

Snapper nodded. The group roughly dusted one another clean, using stiff brushes hanging from their belts. The beasts were brushed down, but thankfully the suits had few nooks and crannies to collect the dust. Water bottles were unsheathed from their lead foil containers, and the straws fed through into everyone’s masks. The adventurers all drank, but the animals would have to wait. The empty bottles were thrown away.

They sat for a few moments on rocks, stifled and wearied by the heat. But the faster they moved, the sooner it would all be done. Snapper looked to Beau, who heaved himself up onto his feet. Kenda was already standing, waiting – disciplined and intent on marching forward. Snapper looked to make quite certain that all the suit seals and baggage containers were intact, then led the way on into the dust.

Throckmorton reeled in his cord and flew ahead across the valley, casting back and forth to find solid footing for his friends.

The group felt their way out across the valley, through heat that began to shimmer in the air. Dust rose from their footsteps – dust that blew off across the valley and away. Trudging, trudging – now boiling inside their suits, they walked grimly on. One of the pack beetles croaked and staggered. Beau steadied the creature with difficulty as it tried to shake its head free from its mask. It took Snapper and Kitterpokkie’s help before the animal could be dragged onwards. Finally the creature gave in, blundering and croaking inside its suit.

They picked their way up and over another ridge of rock, then slowly down the slope on the other side. The cliffs now loomed overhead. The rocks were slippery, and the footing terrible. More than once, Snapper almost spilled and fell. She had to support Onan, whose clumsy boots were hampering his claws.

They reached the end of the rocks. A broad parch of bare dirt lay before them – and then stony ground leading at last to the cliff base a kilometre beyond. It was the end of the hellish trek at last! Snapper began to step out onto the dirt, but Kitterpokkie struggled up from behind. Her muffled, exhausted voice called out in alarm.

“Wait!”

The mantis fumbled for a rock, and tossed it at the ground ahead. The stone plopped into deep velvety dust at least three fingers deep.

Kitterpokkie threw more stones to the left and to the right. The dust seemed shallower in patches – a mere skin here and there. She scanned the area as best she could, and then shrugged a hefty water skin down from her back.

“Stay behind me!”

She had a shower spigot attacked to the water skin. Kitterpokkie sprayed the dust ahead of her, dampening it down. She inched her way forward, moving her feet with exquisite caution, making sure that she raised no more dust. The mantis explored her way forward for a hundred metres, sprinkling and spritzing, then moved out onto firmer ground. She waved back to the others, signalling them to cross.

They came to her single file, towing the tired, staggering beasts behind them. They emerged out onto strange footing – old concrete slabs vast and sturdy enough to still be largely intact. This was clearly one end of Toby and Samuel’s old pass through the radiation. It extended onwards, heading straight towards the cliffs. The group gathered, looking up towards the towering cliffs, awed by the mass of rock – the vast expanse of open concrete all around them. It was the first time they had really seen and felt the awesome scale of the ancient world.

Kitterpokkie moved forward, pushing past a scatter of sharp rock fragments. There was a crater in the concrete nearby – deep, with dirt at the bottom and jagged ends of metal bars jutting from the rim. She pointed towards the cliff notch, and Snapper wearily nodded her head inside her mask. Kitterpokkie straightened her shoulders, gathering herself for the last push. Stick thin and dead tired, she staggered onwards, heading doggedly on and towing her two beasts steadily in her wake.

Quite suddenly, she fell.

The ground beside her cracked and gave way. A crater had been partly concealed by dirt and dust. Blinded by sweat in her eye pieces, Kitt had missed the signs. She lurched and fell, sliding down into a shallow crater and ripping her suit against a jagged metal bar.

“Kitt!”

The mantis blundered up out of the crater, dazed, hands trying to squeeze shut the rent in her suit. Snapper seized Kitt and hurtled her over Onan’s back. Snatching the lead rope, Snapper broke into a lumbering run, pounding forward across the open valley floor. She put her head down and ran, the bird lurching and running along behind, carrying Kitterpokkie across the concrete as fast as they could.

It was a nightmarish sprint – leaping over rocks in the heavy suits, unable to see through the blinding sweat that fogged her mask. Snapper pelted hard across the valley, blundering, lurching, absolutely dazed. She suddenly felt a slope of harsh rockshards beneath her feet, climbing up and up and up until she was staggering forward to the top of a hill. A cliff face soared overhead – huge chunks of fallen cliff made weird shapes half seen in the blurred glass. Snapper kept running until she pounded up against a sheer rock wall, bouncing backwards in a daze.

Onan squawked, his raucous, exhausted cry almost completely muffled by the mask.

“No burnies!”

Snapper sagged against the rock. “No burnies?”

“No burnies.” The bird staggered as Kitterpokkie slid down from his back. “No burnies!”

“We’re clear!” Kitterpokkie raced to Snapper’s side, and began speedily brushing her free of dust. “Come on – let’s get you out of the suit.”

“You first!”

“Stand there! Spread your arms!”

Kitt brooked no argument. She made the swaying shark stand spread-eagled at the edge of a windswept rock and fiercely brushed her down, attacking every surface, turning her about and letting the dust stream away.

“Right! Step away and get your suit off! Turn it inside out!”

Snapper refused. She brushed down Kitterpokkie’s suit, dusting it clear, then dusted Onan. They both finally tore off their masks and suits in an absolute panic to escape the dreadful heat. Drenched through, they pulled at the buckles of Onan’s suit. The bird shook free of the leather and lead, took two steps away then sank down exhausted in the shade. All three of them lay shuddering, spots dancing before their eyes, raggedly sucking in each breath.

They were utterly drenched. Kitterpokkie wiped her eye casings, and let her arms fall by her side.

“So – sweat glands inherited from human ancestors… Pro or con?”

“I’ll get back to you.” Snapper was light-headed. Her thoughts whirled in a daze. “God-fish, can you imagine what an ocean must have been like? To just plunge down into something so infinite and wild…”

There was water in a case on Onan’s back. Snapper wove to her feet, and now saw that the other travellers were blundering towards them across the concrete slabs. Throckmorton swirled in overhead, horn honking, then dipped down to make himself useful finding water for his friends.

Kenda arrived, towing his two animals. Beau came last, with three beasts in his wake. They dusted each other off, and then their beasts, tearing off the cloying masks and dropping them aside. The suits were pulled inside out: the foil liners would be removed, and inserted into new leather suits for the return journey. Kitt saw to the swift disposal of the contaminated leathers, tossing them off amongst the stones. The others found the water skins, watered the birds and beetle, then drank and drank until finally their dancing vision cleared. They sat, exhausted, letting the sweat dry slowly on their backs. Above them, the vast cliff soared into the sky, casting a blessed blanket of shade.