Steel Horizon

Chapter Nine

We made it to a small town just as the first snowflakes began to fall. The air was crisp and cold with the coming storm, and we started down a residential street to find a place to stay for the night.

Jude stopped. "Do you hear that?"

Beyond the sound of our breathing, there was the faint echoing of voices further up the street. Human voices. "I guess some people are still living here."

"Come on. We might was well check it out."

I hesitated and then told him, "Put your gloves on first."

"Why?"

"Your hand," I explained. "I think it'll be better if they don't see it. They could mistake you as a Scrapper." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and I could see the hurt on his face. "I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I don't want to compare you to them. But you have to remember they don't know anything about this. According to everyone else, anybody with a metal body part is an enemy."

"No, you're right." He dug through his bag, making a point of looking busy. "It's just . . . I wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Jude."

He ignored me.

"Jude."

He stopped and looked up, his eyes guarded. "What?"

"I don't think of you as one of them."

"Yeah. I know." He pulled his gloves on, not looking me in the eye. "Come on, let's go."

Even though I wanted to say more, I kept my mouth shut and followed him. At the next stop sign there was a pile up of charcoal colored cars, and we approached slowly, hearing people on the other side. Their words were too muffled to hear.

"Hello?" Jude called.

They immediately stopped talking. "Who's there?" They started walking around the crash. "If you try anything, you're going to have a bullet in your head. You understand?"

"We're unarmed."

Two men slowly came around the crash site, one of them holding a rifle in the crook of his arm. It wasn't pointed at us, which I took as a good sign. They were both middle-aged men, looking tired but alive.

"We're not looking for any trouble," Jude said. "We just came into town to find a place to stay for the night before the storm gets bad."

One of the men spit tobacco juice out of the corner of his mouth, making a dent in the white snow. He looked us up and down, like we came from the wrong side of town. "We can't offer any food," he said, "if that's what you're looking for."

"We aren't. Just a place to stay for the night."

They were cautious, which they had every right to. A lot of people started taking advantage of others when they could after the Scrappers came. And for the least of things too, like food or gasoline, even warmer jackets. Suddenly, all the rules were gone, along with every shred of decency.

The man finally pointed down the street to the right of us. "The houses on this street are empty. You're free to use any one of them."

Jude nodded his thanks and suddenly the air screamed as a plane shot over us—black against the sky and moving the way they did in my nightmares. It was a Scrapper jet. We ducked and looked to the sky, watching it turn and bank back towards us. They knew we were here. It flew over us again, so close I thought it might brush the house roofs around us. It left and it didn't come back.

One of the men swore. "We have to get everyone inside. Now."

There was shouting to our left. A few more people came running down the street, two girls and three guys, and one of them slowed down, letting the others go on without him. He was out of breath and visibly shaking. "They're coming. They know we're here."