Steel Horizon

Chapter Six

It wasn't until we drove for miles when Jude relaxed behind the steering wheel and my heart finally slowed. Snow still fluttered from the sky, but it was slowly clearing as we drove out from under the storm. I just hoped it had snowed enough to cover our tracks. Scrappers might have had metal body parts, but they weren't blood hounds.

My skin was still rough with goosebumps, even though heat blew from vents. Nothing seemed to be warming me up. I stared at my hands in my lap, the metal cuffs making them feel frozen.

"Here, get those off." Jude unclipped the keys from the one still in the ignition and handed them to me. His metal fingers brushed my palm as he dropped them in my hand, sending a cold shock through my arm.

I pulled back my hand a little too fast.

He pretended not to notice.

My hands were still shaking as I fumbled with the keys and threw the handcuffs behind my seat, feeling relieved to have them off. I turned back and rubbed my hands along my arms. The Scrapper who had stood over me still lingered in my mind, and I knew she would haunt my dreams.

"Are you still cold?" Jude asked.

I nodded. "Are you?" At least I had a T-shirt, whereas he had nothing.

"Yeah." He breathed once heavily. "It doesn't seem to go away."

He was right. We were no longer sweating but the cold attacked our bodies ruthlessly. We needed jackets. Anything to bring our body temperatures up.

Turning to look into the small cab behind us, I saw a large duffel bag sitting on the seat. I reached back.

"This is my stuff," I blurted, almost not believing it was here. If only I had Luke's picture, then I might've cared more. As it was, I still had my only book with me that brought memories of its own.

"Really?" Jude asked, craning his neck, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. "Is there anything else back there?"

I grabbed the straps of the bag and brought it upfront. I looked back for more and saw a second jacket. I pulled it into my lap and rubbed my fingers across it. It was close to the same material as mine, which was a soft wool, but it was an older style by quite a few years.

"Is this yours?" I showed him the second jacket, my eyes once again strayed to his bare chest.

Jude glanced over and his eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it is. Why would they still have our stuff? Wouldn't they just throw it out?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but we could always go back and ask them." My lips almost tugged into a smile, but I wasn't sure if it was visible. The action felt forgotten. Along with the sarcasm. "The Scrappers we saw outside, were they the ones who caught you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"They were the ones who caught me too, and this was the truck I saw them driving, so I guess they just put our stuff in here. Maybe they use our clothes to pretend to be one of us."

A little more hope reached into his voice. "Is my bag back there, too?"

I reached back again and brought yup a tattered grey messenger bag. It looked like it was ridden with disease. "This?" I held it up tentatively.

He nodded with a smug smile.

"Where did you get this?"

"In a store."

"When? 1922?"

He just rolled his eyes, focusing his attention back on the road. I dropped it on the seat between us and pulled on my own jacket, hoping it would bring some warmth. Shivers ran over my skin as I slid my arms through the cold sleeves.