Radio Hope (Toxic World Book 1) (22 page)

They skittered up the gravelly slope.

“If you call out—” Brett began. Jackson cut him off.

“You’ll kill me. Yeah, yeah.”

Jackson was getting sick of this whole thing. After all those failures he was ready to die.

“Naw, I won’t kill you. I’ll cut out your tongue, blind you, and leave you here,” Brett finished.

When they got to the top of the ridge Brett told everyone to keep low. They crouched on the ground. Jackson looked around nervously. He saw no sign of anyone.

Jackson
tensed. Looking past Brett, he could see a radio mast in the distance. He immediately looked away.

Shit, Think of something.

“I was going that way,” Jackson said, pointing away from the transmitter. “Promise not to kill me and I’ll lead you to it.”

Bret
t studied him. “Lead us to what?”

Glad for the excuse to turn back in Brett’s direction, he glanced over the cultist’s shoulder. The transmitter looked damaged.

That didn’t make sense. Hadn’t Ha-Ram detected a signal just this morning?

Jackson looked away before Brett got suspicious. “
An old weapons cache one of the citizens found. Stuff was too technical for him to activate, so we came up here.”

“You’re technicians? That might be handy,” one of the cultists said.

Jackson’s muscles eased a little. He might just have bought himself more time. But the question remained, time for what?

“So what are these systems you’re talking about?” Brett asked.

Jackson shrugged. “Not sure. The citizen was vague. Didn’t know what he was looking at. Looked in pristine condition, though. Hidden in a cave. That’s why we’re here.”

“There’s caves all over these mountains. I been through here a bunch of times,” one of the cultists nodded.

Jackson felt Brett’s eyes on him, sizing up the options. He could almost hear Brett’s thinking, the typical line of thought of some lackey trying to climb the ladder of an organization he only cares about for the personal gain it can give him. Finding something in the mountains to impress his leader would give Brett better standing in the Righteous Horde, and a bigger share of the plunder, which was what he was really after. Brett was probably thinking that Jackson wasn’t telling the whole truth, that this may be a wild goose chase to buy time. On the other hand, he needed to catch the other three scouts from New City and check if there were more. He also probably figured that Jackson didn’t know where the others were and so couldn’t deliberately lead them in the wrong direction. He had little to lose following Jackson, and potentially a lot to gain.

“All right,” Brett said, pricking Jackson in the side with his knife again. “Let’s go, and you better be telling the truth.”

Brett turned and waved to Graham to come up. The man sat staring at them a moment and then toppled over.

Two of the cultists hurried down to him. The fourth man stayed crouching at Jackson’s side, his rifle at the ready. Brett gave him an appreciative nod.

Jackson’s mind raced. This was probably the last time he’d only have two of them around. But what to do? He couldn’t run, and even if he could overpower Brett and this other guy the remaining two could shoot up the slope at him. No, there was no chance. The only thing he could do to make good was to lead them away from the transmitter. They’d eventually kill him, but at least the Righteous Horde may never learn Radio Hope’s secret.

The two cultists kneeled down
next to Graham and turned him over. Both took off their hats. They raised their hands and faces to the sky in supplication and started a prayer Jackson couldn’t hear.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, come on,” Brett whispered.

“Let them,” the other cultist said in a low voice. “It only takes a minute. It’ll make them feel better.”

Brett turned and scanned the surrounding area. Jackson tensed, ready to pounce
if Brett saw anything, but his gaze passed right over the distant tower without resting on it.

The two finis
hed their prayer. One took Graham’s gun and ammo. The other grabbed the bedroll and rummaged around his pockets. Then he pulled Graham’s boots off and exchanged them for his cracked pair.

Brett gave out an impatient sigh.
Once the other two had rejoined them they set out. Jackson breathed easier once they got out of sight of the transmitter.

They scrambled down the back of the ridge and into the next valley. Some low hills hid the transmitter from view. Jackson ached to run in that dir
ection, to finally see the station and meet the people he had always dreamed about.

He knew he couldn’t. That place was forever closed to him. He had to keep it closed to his captors as well.

The next valley lay broad and open. Jackson kept casting nervous glances to his right, worried the transmitter would come into view again. He bit his lip as they proceeded on and the hills opened up. Soon the transmitter stood in full view, closer than before. They must have turned a bit without his noticing.

Jackson hurried his pace.

“It’s this way,” he pointed, trying to urge the others on.

“Hey, what’s that?” one of the cultists said.

Jackson gritted his teeth. He forced himself to turn around. The man was pointing toward the transmitter, now clearly visible less than a mile away.

“Is that it?” Brett asked.

Jackson shook his head. “No, it’s this way. That must have been a substation to the old base. The citizen said there’s nothing there.”

Jackson could hear how lame
and nervous the words sounded.

Brett’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s go take a look any
how.”

“It’s busted, you can see!” Jackson said.

Brett jabbed him in the back with the Bowie knife. “Move.”

Reluctantly Jackson turned and led four heavily armed members of the Righteous Horde
toward Radio Hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Annette
stared in shock at the newcomer. He stood waist high in the camouflaged pit that they had passed right by without suspecting it was there. The white, smiling mask unnerved her almost as much as the M16 the figure held.

“Drop your weapons,” he ordered
. At least Annette thought it was a he. The mask muffled the voice and made it hard to tell.

Slowly
Annette set her shotgun down on the ground and eased off her pack and rifle case.

“State your business,” the muffled voice demanded.

Annette and Ha-Ram looked at each other. Before they could answer, the sound of running feet made them turn to the transmitter. Three more figures hurried down the valley, all wearing loose clothing, hooded sweatshirts, and identical masks to the sentry who had surprised them. One was heavyset and moved like an older man. One had the curves of a woman. It was difficult to tell anything about the third.

The
y came up to Annette and Ha-Ram, the heavyset one panting a little. Each had a sidearm and nothing more.

“Who are you?” the heavyset man asked once he had caught his breath.

“I’m Annette Cruz and this is Ha-Ram Lee. We’re from New City. Have you heard of it?”

“
Of course. How did you find us and why are you here?”

“We were scouting to see if the Righteous Horde was coming through this pass,” Ha-Ram said. “You got to watch out. They’re a new cult that’s—”

“We know about them,” the heavyset man cut him off. “But if you’re scouting the pass, why are you up here?”

Ha-Ram glanced at Annette. When she said nothing he replied, “We were chased by one of their scouting parties.
”

Annette gathered her courage. “That’s not entirely true. We were sent to scout, yes, but a citizen named Abraham Weissman
had other reasons to send us. I didn’t know this when we started. Ha-Ram here, and another companion named Mitch Evans, were sent by Abe to find you. Ha-Ram has a radio wave finder that he used to track your signal.”

The four masked faces were impassive. The man with the M16 kept his gun pointing at Annette.
She found being surrounded by smiling masks more unsettling than being at the wrong end of a gun. That, at least, was something she was used to.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Ha-Ram said, almost crying. “Abe made me. He has something on me and threatened to reveal it if I didn’t come back with your location.”

The heavyset man inclined his head. “He has something on you? And what would that be?”

Ha-Ram grew defiant. “None of your business.”

“You are at our mercy.”

Ha-Ram frowned and repeated, “None of your business.”

The heavyset man nodded. “Interesting. You think yourself weak but you can be strong.”

He turned to Annette and asked, “So why do you reveal yourselves to us?”

Annette let out a deep sigh. “I live in the Burbs, a crappy and dangerous settlement outside the walls. I agreed to come on this mission to get my son a safer place to live.”

“But when you found out the true nature of the mission you wanted out,” the sentry stated. “Just before I popped out of my shelter you pulled a gun on Ha-Ram here.”

“She didn’t want to betray you,” Ha-Ram said, “and I don’t want to betray you either. Let us go and we won’t tell anyone where you are. You can have the direction finder. It’s in my pack.”

“If only it were that simple,” the heavyset man said.

“We should kill them,” the masked woman said, drawing her automatic.

“Don’t be so hasty,” the heavyset man said. He turned to Ha-Ram. “Where is this Mitch fellow, the one who was in on the truth from the beginning.”

“He was acting as rearguard fighting off the cultists so we could get away. He was supposed to join us. I think maybe he got killed,” Ha-Ram said.

“I sent him the wrong direction,” Annette admitted. “There was a fourth member of our party, Jackson Andrew
s, but he got scared on that bridge and froze. He must be dead by now.”

The heavyset man took a step forward. His entire body spoke of surprise and interest.

“Jackson Andrews? A citizen of New City?” he asked.

Annette blinked. Did this guy know about Jackson? How?

“Um, yeah. Well, no actually. He was cast out two years ago for Blame.”

“Ah,” the heavyset man nodded. “And who did he blame?”

“It’s illegal to repeat his words,” Annette replied.

The heavyset man chuckled and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Following the laws of New City and not even a citizen, eh? You do
want to get within those walls. Never mind, you don’t have to answer. I have a pretty good idea what that boy said.”

Annette and Ha-Ram exchanged gl
ances. This guy really did know Jackson.

“His father is dead, yes?” he asked.

“Um, I think so,” Annette said.

The masked man dipped his head. “A pity, yet hardly unexpected.”

“What are we going to do with them?” the masked woman asked. She still held her automatic pointing at Annette and Ha-Ram.

Annette heard a sigh come out from behind the leader’s mask.

“We can’t risk anyone knowing the location of the transmitter. Yet I don’t relish killing in cold blood, nor hot blood for that matter.”

“I want to join you,” Ha-Ram said suddenly.

Four smiling masks turned to him. He looked at each of them, uncertain.

“I—I told you that Abe’s got something on me. He’s got me backed into a corner. I feel like a slave working for him.”

“Don’t you have family in New City?” the masked woman asked, lowering her pistol a little.

Ha-Ram’s face dar
kened. “Mom and Dad died years ago. My little brother got leukemia and died when he was six. My sister got kidnapped during a raid on one of the farms. They. . .they found her body weeks later.” Ha-Ram shook his head. “No, there’s nothing for me back there, even if New City is still standing.”

The heavyset man nodded. “It is. Radio New City is still transmitting intermittently. They’ve stopped their usual music and silly advertisements and are broadcasting to anyone who may be listening that they’re
preparing to fight the Righteous Horde.”

Annette let out a big sigh of relief. Worry for her son was always in the back of her mind. At least he was all right
for the moment.

“We can’t let him join us,” the fourth masked figure said, speaking for the first time. To Annette’s ear it sounded like a young man’s voice, but it was hard to tell. “This may be a trick.”

“Could be,” the sentry agreed.

“Look, I’m an operator at New City Radio. I know all about electronic engineering and hardware and everything,” Ha-Ram said.

The older masked man chuckled. “We have the best group of engineers we know of.”

“Then teach me!”

Annette could see he was desperate to join. She wondered what hold Abe could possibly have on him that would make him leave the safest spot in the region to join a group of people whose faces he hadn’t even seen. But she, too, felt drawn to these same people. Their voices over the airwaves and given her faith that goodness still existed in the wildlands, that there was a chance at a better future.

“I’m afraid it’s quite impossible.”

“I’m giving you the detector, I’m offering you my expertise, my labor. How often do you get volunteers like that?” Ha-Ram said, his tone demanding despite having two guns pointed his direction.

“The rare eccentric occasionally stumbles upon us.” The older man said.

The scavenger
,
Annette thought.
The scavenger in the bar. I knew it.

The crack of a distant shot stopped the conversation. A bullet whined through the air nearby.
Further down the valley five men came into view, all but one carrying rifles. The flare of a rifle was followed an instant later by the crack of the shot and another bullet sang through the air, much closer this time.

Everyone crouched on the ground. The sentry hunkered down in his shelter and aimed his M16. His three companions readied their pistols even though they were useless at this range.

“What’s going on over there?” the masked woman asked.

Annette squinted
. Two of the distant figures were struggling. For a moment she was confused. Then she recognized Jackson. He was pummeling another man, one of the cultists.

“It’s Jackson, they have him prisoner!” she cried.

“Be careful not to hit him!” the heavyset man said.

The sentry took careful a
im and fired. One of the figures twisted and fell. Another cultist fired back while the other two ganged up on Jackson, fists flailing.

Annette dove for her sniper’s rifle. She unzipped the case and pulled it out.

“Stop!” the woman said, pointing her pistol at Annette’s head.

Annette glanced between her and the fight going on further away. Now that it was two against one, Jackson was getting the worst of it. The sentry and the other cultist exchanged shots and missed.

She had to make a decision. Annette looked into the woman’s eyes, vague reflections hidden behind that strange mask, then turned her back on her. Hoping the woman would think before she acted, Annette snapped off the safety, opened up the bipod, and set the rifle down on the ground.

Lying prone behind the rifle, Annette tried to ignore the argument she could hear going on behind her, ignore the fl
are of the cultist’s rifle as he fired another shot, even ignored the sight of Jackson getting beaten and kicked.

She
put her eye up to the eyepiece of the telescopic lens. The rifleman firing in their direction appeared close and crystal clear.

“Goodbye soldier,” she whispered, and squeezed the trigger.

The cultist’s chest erupted as the bullet tore straight through him. Annette ratcheted the bolt back, ejected the spent casing, and reached into her pocket for another bullet. She was vaguely aware of the sentry staring at her, his blank smiling mask somehow expressing astonishment. A part of her mind also told her that the argument behind her had ceased. Everyone in their group was silent, watching her.

She clicked another bullet into her weapon and looked through the scope again. Jackson lay on the ground, battered but alive. The two remaining cultists were running down the valley. One turned to fire.

“Not your fault, but you’re a threat,” Annette whispered, and took him out.

The last cultist disappeared around the bend just as Annette snapped another bullet into her gun. She grabbed her rifle and ran after him. The sentry followed her.

“He can’t get away,” the sentry said.

“He won’t,” Annette replied, not keeping her eyes off the point where the man had disappeared.

They made it to Jackson, who had picked himself up and grabbed a rifle. They didn’t stop and so he ran alongside them, giving the masked sentry curious glances.

“This way,” the masked man said, pointing to the crest of a low, conical hill. They ran up it, and at
the top they just spotted their quarry running around a corner in a gully nearby.

“He’s headed for the road,” Jackson said.

They scrambled down a hill and around the same gully, risking that he might have set up an ambush. He hadn’t.

“We can cut him off if we go this way,” the sentry said, pointing to a nearby ridge.

Great, let’s run up another hill
,
Annette thought
.
One good thing about fighting in $87,953, you never had to run anywhere.

Annette almost smiled as she wondered if she was getting too old for all of this. Growing old had never seemed an option to her.

Don’t fool yourself. Inside the walls is the only place that’s going to happen.

Let’s get inside the walls then.

The huffed up the ridge, down its opposite slope, and up another hill. The view opened up and the road curved below them.

In t
he distance they could see him sprinting down the highway at full speed, his regular leaps over cracks and fissures in the pavement barely slowing him down.

“Your friend’s a hell of a runner,” Annette said.

“I fed him a line about us searching for a weapons cache,” Jackson wheezed, the words coming out between great gusts of air. Annette noticed his nose was bleeding and he was swelling out one hell of a black eye. “He’s in a hurry to get back to his master and get some scraps from the plate.”

“He’s going the wrong way,” Annette replied, setting up her rifle. “That’s the way back home.”

“Unless there are two columns,” Jackson said. “And the leader is with the other one.”

Annette caught her breath. She turned to the sentry.

“What did you say back there? That New City Radio broadcast they were getting ready to fight the Righteous Horde? Did they actually say they had spotted them?”