She looked at the car’s screen, which told her this was the “farming community of Fort Meriwether.” Part of a building still stood, and she thought it might give her enough cover. At the same time, if they came this way, it looked too obvious a hiding place. Panic welled up in her gut. Once again she was being hunted.
Lights cut through the darkness ahead. Three more cars appeared over a hill a quarter of a mile away. She flipped around, heading back, hearing their strange engines gunning after her. She knew they’d seen her. A cold wave of fear swept over her. She raced back down the little hill toward the interstate. But already the six cars had exited the interstate and formed a roadblock. She stifled a cry and looked for places to turn out, but the cars moved quickly to intercept her. They closed in, the three from behind, forming a tighter and tighter circle.
She turned down the last open side street, where they cut her off. Trapped, she locked all her doors. When they saw that she was cornered, they got out of their vehicles, rough-looking men and women who regarded her with cold, calculating eyes. Their clothes were ragged and torn, stitched together from a dozen different fabrics. Many wore red-and-black paint on their faces and bodies, designs she didn’t recognize. They came over, leering down at her. One tried the door, and when he found it locked, he pulled out a long, thin piece of metal and slid it down inside the door. The lock popped open.
He was tall, with brown hair cascading down his shoulders. His face was rough and whiskered, and his pale green eyes gazed down shrewdly. He opened the door and grabbed her by the arm, wrenching her out of the car. He shoved her into the crowd, where someone punched her so hard in the stomach that she doubled over, falling to her knees. Then they moved past her, most taking no notice, instead gazing at the car, at its solar panel and high clearance modifications. She managed to stand up. Two of them held her in place, one with his hand on the back of her neck, and a woman holding her arm so tightly that she could feel it bruising.
“That’s some ride,” the long-haired man said to her.
She didn’t say anything. She remembered Rowan’s warning to not let them know anything about her.
“I think we’ll be taking it.” As he started to slide into the driver’s seat, she threw her head back, twisting free of the man’s grip, then turned and shoved the woman to the side.
H124 rushed to grab the long-haired man’s arm. “I need it,” she told him.
“So do we,” he said.
“You don’t understand. I have to reach my destination.”
“So do we all.”
She glanced around. The two who had been holding her had so much hatred in their eyes that their gaze burned. The leader paused. Instead of getting in the car, he lingered on her. She looked back at him, trying not to betray her terror. Suddenly her life felt worth as much as a rusted car.
“If I don’t reach my destination, we’re all going to die.” She craned her neck, making sure no one was getting too close. “All of us.”
The leader gave her a wry smile. “Some of us sooner than others.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, masking the plea in her voice. She had the feeling that the moment she showed any kind of weakness, they’d descend on her like a pack of night stalkers.
He started to slide back into the driver’s seat, but this time she gripped him forcibly. She wasn’t going to give up now. The car was her best chance of reaching the Rovers, of having a shot at stopping this asteroid. She wasn’t going to lose that because some greedy jerks wanted her car.
“I can’t let you take it,” she insisted.
He snatched her hand, his skin rough against hers. “I don’t think you have a choice. We need a solar car. And you’ve got one.” A curious look swept across his face. “Where did you come from?”
She stared back at him, her jaw set.
“What’s your name?”
She narrowed her eyes. She didn’t have a name. Just a designation.
Rather than climb into the driver’s seat, he bent into the car and pulled out her tool bag. He dug through it, finding the books and Willoughby’s PRD. He gave a long, low whistle. “Wow. Will you look at that? That’s city center tech.” He turned back to her. “You a thief?”
“No,” she said.
“You from a city center?”
She thought quickly. “Of course not. Does it look like I’m one of those jacked-in deadbeats?”
He really took her in then, scanning her up and down. “No, you don’t,” he said finally. He yanked her elbow. “You look like a city worker. And I think you’re going to ride with me. Get in the car.”
He manhandled her around the side of her vehicle. Anger flooded through her, and she grew hot. She wanted to wheel on him and pound him with her fists, but with all his companions around, she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Maybe if she rode with him a little while, she could convince him to let her go, tell him of the asteroid. At least that way the car wouldn’t be out of her sight.
He
