Nuclear Children

By Timothy Lincoln

Crash landing into the nuclear wasteland of Earth, Captain Dexter Talisman must evade the hunters and find a way to unite the people of the future to keep the mistakes of the past where they belong. With the US military on his tail and the dangers of a mutated world, Dexter must stand with the people of the future in a war that threatens to consume the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Lincoln
• Release date: Aug 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301014774

Timothy Lincoln

Born in late 1989 just outside of London, Timothy started out by writing music with a string of bands. After a few years, and starting a solo career, he branched out into writing short stories and novels.As a self-proclaimed Geek, he spends his time writing, playing guitar and singing, while studying for a degree in Biochemistry.

Book preview

Nuclear Children

By

Timothy Lincoln

Nuclear Children

Timothy Lincoln

Copyright 2013 by Timothy Lincoln

Smashwords Edition

****

Chapter 1

Fire streaked across the fading sky. Stark white, eclipsing the stars behind as Doctor Penny Newton eased off the gas. Arcing across the sky, the flames seemed to take aim on them, dipping slowly as they watched. Something big. No doubt about that, but would it survive the fall through the atmosphere? Only one way to answer the question.

What was that? Captain Grace Tolane said, leaning closer to the windscreen in hopes of getting a clearer view. Shifting position in her seat, the older woman frowned as she tracked the object across the cloud speckled sky before them, leaving a hazy vapour trail in its wake.

Might be interesting, Penny replied. She was the youngest person in the car, riding along with the soldiers as a scientific adviser. How much advice do you need to shot people? It was all they seemed to be doing now. Whether it was their mission which had changed or the people of the wasteland, Penny couldn’t tell, but everyone had noticed a spike in violence recently. Must have fallen from orbit, she added, hoping to catch Grace’s curiosity. Might be under control.

Maybe, conceded the Captain, following the trail carefully. If they could find it, maybe there was something of value. Except, it would deviate from their current mission. Always a hard choice. One Penny wanted to make herself. There was no question in her mind, the people of Winchester could wait for a few days while they checked on the fallen object. Their mission was important, but nothing urgently life threatening.

More farming lessons and patching up a few idiots.

Looks like it come down a little west of Lexington, Grace said, pulling her jacket tighter. Hands gripping the assault rifle between her legs, she slipped into silence for a minute. Wild reactions didn’t make you a Captain, but someone had to make the decision. As commanding officer, she would have to explain to the higher ups in Three Mile Island security if everything went to hell and people died. On the other hand, she would also have to explain why they had ignored their mandate to investigate anything of possible scientific value. Either way…

Close to the central desert. Bandit country, but not the first time they had ventured so far from home.

With a quick glance at Penny, Grace sighed.

You’re not going to be happy if we don’t take a look, will you?

Penny shrugged. There was a lot to be gained from old technology, even if broiled in the atmosphere before hitting the ground. People collected it for their little museums, dotted around the wasteland of Earth. Investigating the technology was better, but Penny knew people could be strange. Especially if they could make money from people wanting to take a look. With the vast majority of the waste-landers, most wouldn’t know what they were looking at or how to make any more use out of it than charging other people to gawk at the creation of a lost era.

I say take a look, said Corporal Stanley Brant, sitting in the back with his rifle propped against the door. You always carried a weapon in the wasteland. Better to have a team of soldiers like Penny did, watching her back and dealing with the mess of humanity still floating around, but bare minimum was a weapon. Can’t do any harm, he added, nudging the younger man next to him.

Couple of days extra on the mission, Private Eric Peters chipped in with a shrug. We’ll have to stop, he added, But otherwise, we can make it fine. I’m sure the people of Winchester can wait a little while longer.

Alright, Grace replied, watching as the light dipped down into some unknown part of the country. They had a mission, but the orders were clear, science comes first. If there was a chance they could find some workable technology from before the holy fires, they had to take the chance and let the politicians deal with the people of Winchester. We’ll take a closer look. Might find something useful, but we’ll have to be careful, she added, hands gripping the rifle a little tighter.

There was no doubt they had a mission, but Penny wasn’t about to fight for staying with it. Someone in Winchester thought they had found something important, but only enough to let a trader pass on the message to the Three Mile Islanders. Unless they were prepared to come to you, Penny knew it wasn’t going to be very special. Otherwise, they were just running a routine tutorial to help the local farmers with suppling more for themselves and Three Mile Island.

We have enough fire power to deal with anything, Penny added, hoping to bolster the argument made by the others. With their small team, she knew they could handle anything. Each of them had enough experience to stay calm in a fight, equipment to deal with the fight and enough knowledge to deal with any injuries they sustained. I mean…

I already said we’d go take a look, Grace said. I doubt we’ll find anything spectacular, but it doesn’t hurt to check.

Breaking into a grin, Penny pressed down on the gas pedal. There was something out there, she could feel it. Putting her feeling into words might be harder, tracing back through the path of the object, she knew explaining what drew her toward it was difficult. Not quite impossible. But, she would have to wait for the answer to crystallise with time.

Grace was right. Most of the time, they caught a few bits falling from orbit. Placed by hands unseen for hundreds of years, but usually it was just burning chunks of metal or molten plastic. Nothing useful. With their equipment, all they could do was look at it with awe. Maybe someday they would be able to make it, replicate the technology of the people who had ruled the planet before her time. Find a way to climb the ladder of civilisation and join the ranks of their forbearer's.

Maybe, just as long as you don’t follow them all the way to the holy fires.

Guiding the car around a few smattering of broken down vehicles, she slipped onto the old freeway. Judging by the wrecks, Penny doubted there would be anyone on the ancient roadway. Normally, there would be a few crews working the tarmac, pulling apart vehicles long dead and beyond repair, hauling off the metal for scrap to be reused. However, Raiders frequently watched, waiting to see who would make the juiciest target, before ambushing the crew and taking the prize for themselves. Wasting many days of work frustrating, but rarely did the crews have the people or skills to stand up to the larger gangs who threatened them.

Occasionally people got tired of being robbed. Sinking in hundreds of hours of work, just to have someone take everything from you was bad enough. Repeating the process was worse. Hiring a Mercenary unit was cheaper. For a reasonable price, Mercenaries set up roadblocks using your produce for bait, then killed anyone who attacked. Problem solved. The crews got back to their work, recycling metal and the Mercenaries got a good payday and some experience killing people. All parties were happy, except the Raiders, but no one was very interested in their opinion of the whole situation.

Keeping the pace steady, Penny watched the road ahead. If someone had hired Mercs, then there would be a roadblock hiding in the growing darkness around them. Better to slow down, than slam into their armoured vehicles and get yourself killed. Mercs wanted Bandits and Raiders, a worthy fight with plenty of pay off at the end. Not some kid scientist and her team of protectors. As they pushed on, the cars took a less random pattern, funnelling them across two lanes with barriers on either side. Picking people off in a stationary car was a lot easier than fighting them scattered around the base. As the cars built up, Penny glanced at Grace, hoping for confirmation of what to do next.

Too many wrecks in precise formation to be an accident.

Sure enough, Penny slowed to a stop, caught in the glaring headlights of an old lorry, plated with steel and barbed wire, sitting across the roadway. She could have passed, but it required a delicate manoeuvre. No doubt they had other vehicles. Probably placed behind the rolling barricade, ready to trap any unwary people trying to speed passed.

Great, Grace muttered, drawing a pistol from the holster on her thigh. Eric and Stanley followed suit, keeping them low, but ready to fire. Mercenaries were strange. A variable in the wasteland. One complication they could have done without, but there was no turning back now. Just keep moving, Grace ordered, Slow and steady. Let’s see who we’re dealing with, she added, Before we get all messy.

OK, Penny replied, gripping the steering wheel tighter to hide the shake in her hands. People always made her uneasy. Animals, you knew what they would do. Too many people got killed by the wildlife filling the American landscape now, but people were still the number one killer. There was no way they would be outdone by the lesser species of animals. Probably got a blockade behind the gap anyway, she almost whispered.

Don’t worry, Stanley said, voice calm and collected. We’re not looking for trouble. They’re not getting paid to kill us, just Raiders and bandits.

Still…

Rolling to a stop, Penny watched the silhouettes moving in the lights. All carried guns. Mostly rifles, held casually before them as if this was just a routine stop. Nothing to get excited about, but then Bandits normally just ran straight into them. Weaken their resolved before the main fight. A practice which never really worked, leaving a few seriously injured Raiders for the Mercs to have some fun torturing later. Best way to perfect your technique of inflicting pain was to test it on a live subject. Apparently, this provided a good source of feedback.

Anyone stopping was either a distraction or they were waiting for their friends to show up. Or maybe just an innocent party, looking for a way to get passed without being killed. Any of the three chances were investigated, then the leader would decide what they wanted to do with the group. One look and any Merc would know exactly who you was and what you wanted. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be a Merc for very long.

Hello, shouted a woman, breaking from the lights and walking slowly around the car. Her eyes wandered across the patchwork paint job, rust poking through in places where they hadn’t bothered to repair the metal beneath. Not stolen then, she added, leaning into the driver’s window, her gaze checking everyone before settling onto Penny.

Who would steal this? Penny replied with a shrug. One of the reasons they had kept the bodywork so bad. Running a vehicle was expensive, along with finding one in the first place. Best not to advertise the one you had found and got running to anyone in the market to cut off your head and take it.

Good point.

The woman sported a buzz cut hairdo, more a heavy dusting across her scarred head than hair, eyes deep green, searching Penny as she forced a smile. Pure opposites, staring each other down. Penny brushed a lock of chestnut hair from her face, hazel eyes meeting the green. The scars of the Merc were all battle won, placed on her by people no longer alive to speak of the tale. While Penny only had one scar on her left temple from a fight with chicken pox. Hardly a worthy competition in the badges of honour stakes, but fighting was something Penny did through necessity, not through choice.

In a fair fight, there was no way Penny would last four seconds with this woman. Muscle strained beneath rough skin, well defined and worked hard, skin tanned deep by the central desert sun, leading to a weathered face, probably a few years younger than the forty it looked. Still, in the dangerous world of Mercs, you had to respect the ones who lived long enough to become old. Far more Mercs died in their teens or twenties, than made old bones to one day be picked clean by the desert wildlife. This was one lady no one would want to be messing with.

Pale skinned, hair longer than necessary and muscles built more by ballet than fighting, Penny was double the ten years old she actually looked. Too many people mistook her for a kid, leading to some awkward moments out in the wasteland. Being older, Grace was always consulted first, even when Penny was the expert. Older people didn’t always have all the answers, but shaking the assumption was difficult, leading to some heated debates about experience verses knowledge.

Not bandits then? said the woman, checking the other three in the car. They all smiled back, keeping their hands carefully on the pistols. Raiders?

Scientist, Penny replied, trying to keep her tone casual. There was no secret over their mission. Out of Three Mile Island, Penny added.

Right. Well armed for scientist.

Politeness and a sweet smile only get you so far, Penny replied, keeping her smile fixed in place.

Hayman, Grace said, leaning across Penny to speak with the older woman. Coppery hair brushed against Penny as Grace released a slow grin. Can we skip to the part where you just shot us? she added, I really don’t want to be bored to death.

We’re running a two for one special of knifing, Hayman replied with a smile.

Sounds expensive, Grace replied, mulling over the option. How about group discount?

Three for four on beheading, Hayman said, shaking her head. Best I can do for you. Even as a valued customer.

What about the spikes? Grace said, Penny’s head would make a lovely decoration.

Only the best for you, Hayman said, glancing into the back of the car. Stanley and Eric smiled back. You want extras, they cost, she added to the boys with a shrug. Unless you’re really selling the young one. Could think of a lot of things to do with her head, Hayman added, None of them involve putting it on a pike though. I think it would be just fine staying on her body as it is right now.

Sorry, Grace replied, leaning back in her seat. We kinda need her to distract the enemy.

Well, if you change your mind let me know, Hayman said, releasing a deep laugh. Maybe it had been a test, Grace sometimes threw them in to see how Penny would react. Scientists were fine, but Grace liked to know how much protection she would really need. Or they might really be contemplating buying Penny for some unknown reason. I’ll let you pass this time. Guess you’re chasing the falling thing.

We are now, Grace replied. Complete opposite to Hayman, with her long coppery hair, sky blue eyes and slender build, Penny had no doubt Grace could take out most of the Mercenaries without much trouble. Especially with Stanley and Eric at her side. But, over the years, Grace had built friendships with a lot of the reputable Mercenaries.

Easier than fighting them all, better for gathering news from the wasteland and always nice to know there was someone reliable you could call if needed.

Good luck then. I won’t keep you, Hayman said, motioning to her friends to let them through. One last bit of advice.

How much?

For you Grace, Hayman said, mouth returning from a easy smile to a grim line. Free. Couple of villages are none to friendly further along, if you get the meaning. Joking aside, keep this little cutie very close, she added, nodding toward Penny. Never know what might happen.

Thanks, Grace replied, leaning back into her own seat as Penny moved the car through the gap to negotiate the vehicles parked behind. Most were pickup trucks, heavy duty vehicles for people who wanted to carry a decent load of weapons and ammunition. Sometimes a decent load of bodies to be used by the hiring settlement as fertiliser was required as well, leaving them plenty of vehicles to keep their options open.

That was fun, Eric said, breaking the silence as they accelerated along the road.

Yeah, Grace replied. At least we knew them, she added, turning to Penny. Worked with them a few months back. Sorting out the Raider encampment along the Philly line.

Right, Penny replied. Would they really…

They’re not going to put your head on a spike, Grace said, voice warm and reassuring. Hayman would prefer to keep a cute little thing like you around. Grace paused, studying Penny a little closer than comfortable. Sort of like a Bear with a kitten.

Always comforting, Penny replied, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of them, mind working through what might have happened. Despite a large collection of scientific knowledge, along with knowing Raiders did bad things, Penny wasn’t sure what Hayman had been thinking when Grace suggested selling her.

Better than being tortured, Stanley said from behind.

I’d rather not be a pet or tortured, Penny said, shaking the thought from her head. Please.

Just be careful then, Grace said, smile pulling at her lips as Penny frowned at the gathering darkness. See any villages, might want to give them some space. Or wait till morning.

With a nod, Penny guided the car through a long curve on the freeway. Finding the fallen object would be difficult. No matter what happened, they would have to stop at some point to ask people about it. Better than taking a guess, then wasting lots of fuel looking in the wrong place. Information was a valuable bartering tool, one they traded with a lot. Everyone needed some specific information, it didn’t weigh very much to carry, while people would pay a lot for knowing how to cure their children's sickness or how to get more food out of their small piece of land.

Better stop for the night anyway, Eric said, shifting his huge body in the seat behind Penny. He was not a man designed for cars. Too much muscle, too much height and far too wide. Never a comfortable trip for him. Otherwise, I might not be able to get out of the car, let alone fight anyone.

Stop up here, Grace said, pointing to a building on the right hand side of the road.

Once it would have been a busy gas station, servicing customers as they rolled through on their way to the western states. People shouting at unruly children, heading off for their holidays, others searching out new customers for their products. But all that had taken place three hundred years ago. Long before Penny. Maybe before Three Mile Island had grown into a major town. Back in a time when people didn’t have to worry about someone cutting off their head or keeping them as a pet. Well, mostly.

Penny eased the car across the lanes, rolling to a stop among the broken down pumps and screen washing service. No one emerged from the building. Few people stayed in the stations anymore, opting for one of the smaller settlements or farming communities for their shelter overnight. Too many people had been caught out by bandits holed up inside, jumping out at the last minute or waiting for them to fall asleep. A few hours work on the farm, was a small price to pay for some protection from Raiders.

Better check it out, Grace order, stepping from the car with the boys. Penny, stay here. Eric, cover us.

Leaving Eric to cover the south with his H3 machine gun, Grace and Stanley closed in on the building. There was no doubt they had this covered. Just standard procedure. Eric was equipped to deal with covering fire, keeping back anyone who might try sneak up on the car. Grace and Stanley both carried R3 rifles, modified from an old design, excellent for most situations. Well equipped, well trained, there was little anyone could do to surprise the security forces of Three Mile Island anymore.

Penny waited, listening to the chugging engine as the others searched the crumbling building. Old vending machines stood outside, rusted in places and displaying faded advertisements for snacks no longer being made. A couple of tyres, stacked against a wall, crumbled beneath the daily sun. Picnic tables off to the right sat rotting through, devoured long ago by bugs and weather into fragile statues of dust.

Nothing interesting.

Just another broken down building, standing for too long against the holy fires and the constant assault from the elements all around them.

A minute ticked by, leaving Penny watching the pair move through the shadows. Neither made a sound, checking every part of the building before they would declare it safe for the night. You could never be too careful in the wasteland. Too many people died in their sleep, a small percentage of them from natural causes or animals.

People still lead the charge in killing people. With their track record over the last few thousand years, Penny had no doubt they would keep up the charge for a long time to come as well.

All clear, Grace called, motioning them to come inside.

Switching the car off, Penny stepped into the cold night air. With a shiver, she stretched her cramped body as best she could. Joints popped, mouth releasing a long yawn as she blinked her suddenly gritty eyes. She hadn’t noticed getting tired. One problem with sleep, it always crept up on you like a mugger in the streets of your mind.

Eric patted her on the shoulder, smiling as he removed a heavy bag from the trunk. Penny had never understood the paradox of the desert. By day, it was a furnace to cook even the hardest of steel into water, but night brought temperatures better suited for the depths of winter.

Best get out of the cold, Eric said, shouldering the bag with ease. Don’t want to be explaining how you got sick.

Yeah, Penny replied, following him across the forecourt and through the doorway.

Someone had taken the door off long ago. Whether it was on purpose or by accident, no one would ever know now. Not that it made any difference. Whoever had taken it off, was now a long lost memory, settled out with the dust covering every surface.

The road was never a comfortable place. When they left home, they had only so much space in the vehicle, most of which had to be given over to weapons and food. You had to eat. There was also a lot of things trying to kill you. Keeping warm was something you could find a way around. Besides, there was always fire if all else failed. A double edged blade of life, scaring off animals, but attracting people into the mess at the same time.

Get settled down, Grace said, watching Eric open the bag and share out bedding. Nothing special, just heavy blankets too keep off the chill. I’ll keep first watch. Eric, she ordered, You’re up next in three hours.

The big man settled down with a nod. Resting his H3 close to hand, just in case they had missed something in the initial sweep, he closed his eyes. There was little chance someone would creep up on them while they slept, but it was better to be prepared. Surprises were never pleasant in the wasteland and a lot of the Raiders found ways to make death look like a happy option.

Get some sleep, Grace said, walking across the room and checking the car through the door. We’ll get back on the road early tomorrow.

Penny settled down, pulling the blanket tight around her body and stealing the bag as a serviceable pillow. Hardly five star comfort, but it was the best she could manage at the moment. Unholstering her pistol, she placed it next to her makeshift bed. If there was trouble, she was close enough to use it. Although, by time she got around to firing anything, the other three probably would have dealt with the problem.

Still, there was no way she would sleep with the weapon digging into her thigh. How the others did it was a mystery to her. Stretching her body out, Penny relaxed into a warm world of sleep. Tomorrow, they would find out what had fallen to Earth, but for the night her dreams wove strange stories in her mind.

Chapter 2

Morning broke slowly, filtering across the sky as the sun chased the clouds in from the East. Thin tendrils crept forward as if a giant monster was testing the sky, before dragging its massive black body to a place where it could unleash the rains within, trying to wash some of the corruption from the land beneath as it had done many times before. The success rate was low, but the storms kept trying, working on a time scale no human could hope to match.

Penny watched the storm building. A sense of bigger storms filled her gut, twisting through her belly as Grace guided the car toward their final goal. Something bad was on the horizon, but she couldn’t say what it might be, just a vague sense of danger higher than the normal level of wasteland travel.

They had started out at first light, breaking camp in the watery dawn sun, before returning to the open road. A few people scuttled around, walking the long path between settlements, packs carried across shoulders and weapons held ready. Not too many. The Raiders made sure of that. Most of them would be look outs, checking the people as they went past for easy pickings. In the wasteland, there was always someone who wanted what you had, but didn’t really want the hassle of bartering for it. Still, they understood enough to weigh up the price of gaining what you had by force, ensuring they didn’t lose too many people to ill considered fights.

Grace kept the pace easy. With their fuel slowly draining away, they would have to make a stop before they began their search for the mystery object. Most settlements carried supplies, normally used for cooking or trading with people passing through for more important supplies. Food, water, just about everything carried a price. A lot of Mercenary groups needed fuel, leaving a valuable trading commodity to be found, bolstering profits from other necessitates when someone stopped to fill up more than just their vehicle.

Behind them, lookouts kept silent watch as they passed. Sometime during the morning, they had picked up an escort from Hayman and her band of Mercenaries. No one wanted to fight a convoy of Mercs. Heavily armed, better trained and better equipped, mercenaries were left alone by the various groups of ill repute. On the scale of picking the wrong fight, Mercenaries would likely kill the raiding party, then head off to the encampment to remove the rest of the families for good measure. Reputation was key, leaving survivors was not.

Penny knew they wouldn’t help them without being paid. One of the basic facts of the wasteland and Mercs. However, anyone looking would be taking a hell of a risk picking this fight. Maybe they were all together or just travelling the same way. Better to let them pass and wait for easier prey. Without the Mercs, Penny’s team would still be a costly fight, but if Hayman decided to join in for the fun, the price would be too high for most Raider leaders to stomach.

Cars blocked parts of the freeway. With the crews waiting on the Mercs to clear out a lot more Raiders, there was limited space for manoeuvring around blockages. A few people worked the metal, tearing up the cars and lorries left behind, toppling a few electrical pylons and loading the heavy scrap onto various vehicles. Some crews rode diesel trucks, fitted with old cranes built into the back for lifting heavier chunks at a time. Others simply broke the scrap smaller, loading it onto carts pulled by a few old and worn down cows.

Still, they made progress. Over time, they would clear the path for everyone to speed across the country as they had once done, searching for adventure or fortune. Now, they just kept up the natural recycling job nature had handed down to them, pulling what they could from the wasteland without being killed in the process. Much like everyone else did.

Over the morning they made good progress. Left alone during the night, all enjoyed a few hours of sleep at least. There was much to catch up with, but they would have to await their return to Three Mile Island. No one said being on the road in a hostile world would be easy, they just endured the best they could. All they had to keep them going was the payoff out weighing the discomfort.

Better stop here, Grace said, pointing to a settlement ahead of them to the right. Gonna need some fuel before we go too far.

Following her gaze, Penny nodded. Not a large place, but big enough to carry what they needed without causing problems to the local population. Trading food and fuel was fine with bigger towns, but some of the smaller places barely carried enough for themselves or the security surrounding them. Demand for resources always pushed up the price, leaving you paying over the odds for not planning a little way ahead. Something no one liked doing when they could avoid it. Arguing a price with them could be hard, especially when they really didn’t want to trade in the first place.

Looks good, Penny replied, studying the wire fence standing around the edge, broken by stacks of wrecked cars and sheets of steel. Hopefully, they’re friendly, she added, watching a few people moving around in the mid morning sunshine.

Only one way to find out, Grace said, guiding the car across the road and slowing to a stop two hundred meters off.

Hayman and her friends rolled passed, kicking up enough dust to blind them for a minute. People were direct. If no one fired on you after a minute, they probably wouldn’t bother. Didn’t mean they would speak or trade with you, but they would more likely just tell you to keep on rolling. Although, rarely quite that politely. Usually, you would have a gun stuck in your face, giving you a subtle hint to get out of their town.

Anyone else, would simply open fire and hope they could stop you from leaving. Killing people wasn’t a crime anymore. Penny knew it once was, but law and order stopped at the city limits of the biggest settlements. Grand City, Three Mile Island and the Followers all keep their house in order. Everyone else, did whatever they felt like at the time. Which was generally short sighted, stupid, but dealt with their immediate needs at the time, leaving them with a problem for another day. Forward planning was not a strong point of the wasteland, although with the farms growing, people were taking note of the nearly lost art.

Occasionally, some of the more short-sighted Raiders would interrupt trade routes or research operations. When this happened, they were answerable to either Mercenaries hired to clear them out or security forces from the nearest jurisdiction. Most of the time, everyone opted for a Mercenary job. Cheaper and more effective. Mercenaries were a much better deterrent, given their brutal ethics or lack of, sending out a clear message to anyone thinking of trying again. Still, there was always one group who thought they would fare better against the Mercs than the previous group, leading to a repeat performance.

Looks clear, Penny said, resting her hand on the rifle.

Let’s go say hello then, Grace said, glancing in the mirror at the boys in the back. Ready?

Always, Stanley replied, gripping his rifle.

With deliberate care, Grace approached the main gates slowly. No need to give them a reason to open fire. People panicked. High speed vehicles meant trouble, leaving few options and fewer seconds to react. Messy. Stupid. Approaching slower, if they hit trouble, they could get out quickly, but it was always better to avoid trouble to start with. Calming people down was a skill very few people had perfected over the years, let alone built into a working art. If all else failed, they would just return fire until Grace had them back on the road, quickly putting some miles between themselves and the settlement.

Penny recalled Hayman’s advice. Everyone knew some places were dangerous, but some people were just trying to make a living from the soil around them. But sometimes, crops failed, water sources ran dry and people got desperate. When all was well, most people were kind enough and easy to deal with, but when things went wrong humans had a habit of going feral very quickly.

Grace stopped beside the gate, parking side on to keep a clear view and allow easy escape.

Nothing moved.

After a minute, Penny shrugged. Pushing open the door, she slipped out of the car. Even with a rifle in hand, Penny wasn’t a fearsome opponent. Long hair, small stature and youthful complexion, she was about as threatening as a pixie, although not quite as big. A fact the team had used before to good effect, keeping the more dangerous looking members from view, while Penny negotiated a deal with locals thinking she was a lost child and mistaking Grace for her mother. A point they sometimes teased her about.

The others climbed out, keeping their weapons ready. Normal didn’t always apply out here. Some places might attack on sight, but there was always a chance they might decide to lure you inside to pick you off. Better to be careful. Getting murdered looked painful, leaving no desire in Penny add the experience to her own life lessons.

Walking from the car, Penny surveyed the scene before her. A small girl sat a short distance from the car, watching her carefully and smiling brightly. Tiny hands clutched a rag doll, raven black hair covering half her face. Blues eyes studied the world, tracking Penny while the others checked their gear. They would need something to trade. Nothing in the world come for free. Yet, most of the items they had to trade resided within Penny’s head as information, knowledge gained by years of studying. Much better than a few pieces of metal or a couple of bullets.

Hello, Penny said, moving closer to the young girl.

Hello, she replied, smile widening as she glanced briefly at the others and dismissed their presence. You must be Penny, she added, swinging her legs against the side of the large rock and tilting her head to the left. From Three Mile Island.

How did you know? Penny said, keeping her voice calm, despite the uptick in her heart beat.

I’m Emily. Mommy told me you would be coming soon, she paused, looking down into the eyes of the rag doll, as if consulting with the toy. I’m supposed to take you to her.

Penny stood for a moment. Psychics were not uncommon within the wasteland. She had meet a few, mostly from the Followers, who could tell you a lot about someone just by touching their hand. Others could track people down, simply by holding an item belonging to the lost person. Many had been traded their abilities at birth with God, taking one of their other senses in exchange. Useful if you wanted to find someone or learn what a person was really hiding. Yet, none had every made predictions about the future.

Apart from one.

Only one psychic had made a prediction of the future. Romero had been the first mutant, the first psychic, the founder of the Followers to build a better future for humanity and care for the sick. Still, no one had ever understood what his prediction meant or why he had painted it onto the pillars in Central. Or why he had decided to move his whole congregation to the ruins of New York from their home on the west coast, crossing the central desert in the process.

Or why he went insane and shot himself.

Your mommy knew I was coming? Penny said, keeping the scepticism from her voice with little success.

Yep.

How?

Emily shrugged, growing bored with the questioning. Children were a mystery to Penny. She knew they were just small people, knew how to make them better with medicine and push knowledge into their brains, but otherwise, had little experience with them. Guessing ages was not a highly practised skill for her. Neither was dealing with psychic predictions of her future either, leaving her lost in a world without logic and reason.

Well, Grace said, walking up beside her. Guess you’ve been making friends, she added, glancing between Penny and Emily.

She knew my name, Penny said, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Apparently, she added, Her mommy knew I was coming here today.

Really? Does your mommy know why else we’re here? Grace said, walking to Emily and kneeling before her. An infinitely more motherly figure, even just because of all the practice dealing with Penny.

Yes, Emily replied, hiding behind her hair as Grace smiled. Embarrassed by the attention from a grown up, asking questions she couldn’t understand. She said Chef can help you, she paused, lips pursing as she sought a memory of fleeting interest. I have to take you to see him. After I take Penny to mommy.

Sounds like fun, Grace said, standing slowly and taking the small girl’s hand in her own. Lead the way, she added, waving the boys along for the ride.

Penny followed close. A few of the people watched them pass, hiding within the deep shadows of their shacks. Distrustful of outsiders, but compelled by a power greater than themselves to provide assistance to these people. Mottled skin, puckered scars, shrivelled or missing limbs, milky stares all marked out the various afflictions scattered around the people of the town.

Some carried psychic abilities within their damaged body, compensation of a kind in the genetic lottery. However, a lot of the people just suffered. Dealing as best they could with what they had been dealt by nature. There was no cure, no way to make their lives easier. All they could do was make the best of their situation and keep working through the pain.

One simple reason the Followers had become so established. They would take people without a second thought, no matter what might afflict them. Romero had started with the simple premise of helping people, caring for those unable to help themselves. A noble cause, which most people let him get on with because his group had nothing of material value worth taking. One of the principals of the Followers, working as a collective to provide everything the