• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Pulling up the flightsuit, she searched through her medical kit until she found a makeshift foil pack. From the patchy contents she selected a painkiller and an antibiotic—one pill each. She could have taken two, but given the difficulty of obtaining fresh supplies it was vital to ration such medication. Rainwater helped her to swallow both with ease.

She had just downed the second pill when an unannounced voice rose above the drum-tap of falling rain.

“What’ve you got there?”

There were three of them. Disheveled and indifferent to their appearance, worn down by a world that seemed bent on annihilating them, sullen of demeanor, they were one of thousands of such bands of independent-minded survivors whose only interest lay in the preservation of self. Such men (and sometimes women) banded and traveled together not out of love or family or friendship but for mutual support. The trio’s unexpected emergence from the storm was troubling; the fact that each of them was armed made it more so.

“Name’s Turnbull.” The speaker nodded toward the foil packet she was still holding. “Antibiotics? Painkillers? Narcotics? Not easy to come by the hard stuff these days.”

Williams studied each of them carefully; measuring, appraising, calculating the most rational response.

“I don’t have much, but you’re welcome to take what you need.”

One of the other men looked over at Turnbull.

“Hear that? We’re welcome to take what we need. And we gonna.” He squinted out at the sodden racetrack. “Be good to get out of the stinkin’ rain for a while.”

“We’ve been watching you,” another of the men said.

Williams could not keep from sneaking a glance in the direction of her service belt. The belt was where she had left it—but the holster was empty. Smiling, the third member of the group held up the Desert Eagle it had formerly contained.

“Looking for this? Nice gun.” He examined the huge pistol thoughtfully. “Kinda big for such a pretty lady.” His eyes glittered in the faint light. “Name’s Carnahan. I’m thinking you shouldn’t have to haul so much extra weight around. There’s easier ways to get exercise. Better ways.”

Despite the pounding rain Wright saw them clearly from a distance as he approached the temporary shelter. Holding the heavy load of firewood, he quickly evaluated the unforeseen state of affairs. He had already delayed his trek northward and altered his course once in order to help the pilot. His fight was with the machines that had taken his friends, not with other humans he did not even know.

Probably they wouldn’t kill her. There would be no reason to. They would tend to their business and move on, leaving her to make it the rest of the way back to her base. Meanwhile he could easily avoid a confrontation he had not sought. They were no threat to him. They didn’t even know he was there.

Searching with increasing desperation for an escape route, Williams was not finding one. The men were armed and had spread out, blocking the way to the racecourse. Thoughts of appealing to their better nature faded swiftly as she realized that this trio had none. All she could do was play for time while hoping that some other possibility presented itself.

“Come on, guys. Machines are the enemy. Skynet is who we have to join together to defeat. We’re all on the same side and we’re all equal in this fight for the future.”

Carnahan pursed his lower lip, feigning thoughtfulness.

“Not exactly. See, I’ve got two friends on my side and you’ve got none, so we’re not really equal. In any fight.” He smiled again, as unpleasantly as the first time. “’Course, nobody has to fight. Not that we’re against it. We can do this any way you want.”

Stiffening, she moved her right leg back, raised her left arm, and dropped into a fighting stance.

“You want to fight, I can do that with or without a plane. It’s good that you’ve got friends. You’ll need someone to carry you after I’m done with you.” Opening her extended left hand, she gestured with her fingers, taunting him to make a move.

None of the three would