Far
ahead, rising above the cloud of dust, was a column of black smoke
reaching up to the sky.
Should
George be concerned that he was heading in that direction? Would
there be danger? He had already been through a firefight. But they
needed to pick up Mabel and Iona. Were they in trouble? Mabel sounded
urgent in her call earlier.
As they
rolled over the sand, Tricia glanced at the datapad in her hand
intermittently. "Stop here," she said suddenly.
George
hit the brakes. They were still a distance from the column of smoke,
too far to see its source. He looked around. The surrounding terrain
was plain, with little vegetation growing on the sandy ground.
"Where
are they?" George asked.
"They're
here," Tricia said. She had her eyes out her side of the
vehicle.
George
looked around again. There was nowhere to hide. The stunted bushes
were too flimsy conceal anyone.
Then
some of the sand off to his side moved. The sand parted as a figure
rose from the ground. As the figure got to its feet, the boy was about to cry a warning when he recognized Mabel's armor.
Mabel hurried to the pickup. "Out,
out, I'm driving!" she told George as she tossed her pack into
one of the lockers in the back.
George
climbed out of his seat just as Iona jumped onto the roll bars of the
pickup from the back. "Missed me?" she asked with a bright
grin. She shook some sand off her cloak.
Tricia
collected her datapad and her guns and moved to the back seat.
"Squirt, buckle up quick. If Mabel wants to drive, that
means..."
"That
means we've to get away, fast," Mabel interrupted as she jumped
behind the wheel, "The Steel Turtle Grid are after us!" She
slid her assault rifle into a holder by her feet and shifted into
gear.
George
guessed that that was the name of another waster gang. He also
guessed that bullets would be flying soon. Since he would not be
driving, he could concentrate on keeping himself safe. It did not
comfort him much, though.
Iona
climbed into the front passenger seat, in front of Tricia.
Tricia
glanced at the column of smoke. "Didn't you blow everything up?"
"They
were guarding their vehicles too closely, I couldn't get to them,"
Mabel said as she turned the pickup around, "I mined the exits
and bombed one of their storage sheds instead."
Tricia
examined the information on her datapad. "Looks like they had a
couple of wheels out on patrol or something."
George
glanced at the radar on the tall Vixen's datapad, then looked back
behind the vehicle. He saw a couple of buggies as they appeared out
of the dust in the distance.
"Three
more incoming on our nine," Tricia reported.
Mabel
glanced at the distant vehicles. "I didn't think the Grid had
this many wheels out. Friends of yours?"
"It
could be the Insect Clouded Terror that were after us earlier,"
Tricia replied.
"What
kind of gang name is that?" Mabel asked, "It sounds like
something off a random name generator." She adjusted their
heading. "Let's see how they like each other."
"What's
she doing?" George whispered the question to Tricia.
"Waster
gangs generally aren't friendly with each other," Tricia told
him, "Mab's taking a course that would bring those two groups
together."
George
realized what their driver was doing. Mabel was driving away from
both groups of wasters. If their pursuers kept chasing after them,
eventually, they would meet up with each other.
"They're
getting along rather well, it appears," Tricia commented as she
and George looked back at the five vehicles chasing after them, "I
think they're exchanging pleasantries and gifts."
"Jeez,
of all things..." Mabel exclaimed, "Plan B! I've got a
little surprise for them. First, to put a little distance... hey,
what's with the nitrous?"
"Oh,
that," Tricia stated, "It was damaged in the previous
fight. We didn't have time to look at it."
"Laura
would've this fixed already!" Mabel glanced at the rearview
mirror. "And they're getting close... and here comes the usual
banter..."
Bullets
peppered the back of the Vixen pickup.
Mabel
shook a fist over her shoulder at their pursuers. "Hey, I said
banter! Banter! You talk before shooting! What's with the silence!?"
"Maybe
we knocked out their megaphones in the fight earlier," Tricia
guessed.
"Not
those on the Grids," Mabel retorted.
"Maybe
they didn't pack any," Tricia said, "Hey, did you pack one
of our own?"
"Oh...
I guess I forgot."
"This
will be a very quiet fight," Iona quipped.
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