Pulse

Chapter 8 - Transit

On paper, the journey from Grace's destroyed Freemech camp to the South Central Freemech-friendly landing station didn't look like much, but with Kalen's truck out of action, the resulting trek on foot was fraught with danger around every corner.

Even as the Human Preservation Camp fires were being extinguished and their only available vehicles sat beyond repair, Kalen had wrestled with the Voice back and forth arguing in favor of some much needed rest and waiting until they had access to a new vehicle, but the Voice, as usual, had insisted that Kalen was wasting precious time. It was now or never. Grace had to be extracted. Her survival came first, above and beyond all other concerns.

After about twenty minutes on route, the small squad came to a halt half way along an old street overgrown with trees, shrubs and wild grass. The street signs were no longer visible and the store fronts lay in tatters almost beyond recognition, broken glass still littering the sidewalks. By the look of things, it would only take a few more years before Nature exacted her revenge and the process of taking back the city of Nova York from the clutches of the brief human infestation would be complete.

"Please wait here. I'll scout ahead and report back if there is anything out of the ordinary," said Flyboy to his fellow travellers.

Kalen and Grace nodded their approval and Flyboy set off down the street. He weaved his way around vehicle wreckage, old shopping carts and random piles of rubble like he was performing an elaborate dance routine, scanning every broken window, side-alley and manhole cover within range of his sensors.

He wasn't exactly unaccustomed to this type of task. In fact, he was a pro with three years experience under his belt. In his old job during the Brazil wars, he would survey stacks of containers checking for unusual loads and nearby booby traps before "latching on to lift and transfer."

The fact that he was still operational was proof enough that he hadn't failed in his duties even once, but the open world was an entirely new ball game for Flyboy. The Sentient run SCELECs were unpredictable environments rife with random events and undesirable surprises and all they had for support was the Voice guiding Kalen on occasion as it saw fit.

Flyboy understood the weight of responsibility that he now carried, heavier than any load he'd ever had to lift, so he was making sure to be extremely careful even it slowed the group down to a crawl.

Adding to the stress, on this particular mission, Flyboy had to stay low during transit which made his job even more difficult and painstaking. Fly too high, above the crumbling rooftops and he'd give the game away, alerting the nearest Slaver patrol. Stay low and he lost his unique bird's eye view of the surroundings.

High or low, outside the safezones, Flyboy's advanced technology also made him a particularly valuable target for scavengers. Up in the sky or carelessly rounding a corner, he was easy pickings for the Skreevers. A single jolt-bolt from one of their crossbows and he'd drop to the ground like a crate full of breeze blocks.

"It's good that he's here," Kalen said softly to Grace. "There's no way we could know what's up ahead without him now that the Voice has gone quiet. Thanks for suggesting he should come with us. Oh... and those rusty old Walkers are great too. Glad we could fix 'em up. I'm strong, but not that strong. They're doing a great job carrying our gear."

Grace remained silent. She stood staring at an old, boarded up shopfront – SANDY'S CUPCAKES AND ICECREAM – the kind of place she would take the kids sometimes in her previous life while their parents were at work. She remembered how much fun they would have in her company. She had obviously been good at her job and the kids had loved her for it. She knew that. She could feel it. Even at the camp, with her disturbing looks and her new responsibilities as a leader, the children had been able to see through all that, and know that deep down, she loved them as much as they loved her.