Rhea heard a noise, as of tumbling concrete. Instinctively her hand dropped to the pistol strapped to her hips. She glanced toward the source and spotted an avalanche of rubble tumbling down the ruins, close to Horatio.
“Whoops,” Horatio transmitted, scrabbling to safety.
She released the pistol and took a few leaping steps to further distance herself from the collapse. She watched the shifting concrete settle, then returned her attention to the task at hand.
She had the eerie sensation that someone was watching her. She glanced at Horatio and Will, but neither of them were paying her any heed. She gazed upward, and spotted Gizmo resting on a rooftop not far away. The drone kept watch on the street behind them.
Her hand once again drifted to the pistol holstered to her side as she scanned the broken windows of the surrounding buildings. Will had procured the pistol for her while still in the settlement, and he’d had it delivered to Rust Town security. At the exit, when the sentry had thawed out the frozen weapons, Rhea’s pistol had been among the batch. It was the same make and model as the pistol she’d trained with, so that made things easier.
She saw nothing in those empty shells of buildings, and the feeling of being watched soon vanished. Obviously, she had an overactive imagination. Which would make sense, given all the “jump scare” attacks Bardain had used during practice, with bioweapons and bandits appearing when she least expected it. He had essentially trained her to be paranoid—which was probably a good thing in this place.
Rhea returned her attention to the rubble and picked her way forward carefully. She was worried more about the embarrassment that would come if she triggered a debris avalanche rather than any actual harm to herself. She also feared for her friends: part of the reason they were so well separated was so that there was less chance of a collapse swallowing them all; it also gave them more time to react in such a scenario.
“Did you know attacks are only the second most common way salvagers lose their lives out here?” Will had told her at one point. “The first most common cause of death or serious injury for us is being crushed by debris.”
She carefully lifted a piece of rubble to free a pump of some kind, and realized the machine was smashed beyond repair. She set the concrete back down and moved on.
Rhea shifted the straps of the pack that was slung across her back. It wasn’t that the pack was uncomfortable, or heavy—how could it be, considering it held only a few months’ worth of provisions in the form of pills? No, it was more of an unconscious habit, something to remind herself that if she wanted to get out of debt, she needed to start filling that pack. It was hers, a gift from Will before they left the settlement. He carried his own at the moment, but she had to wonder—when his became heavier, would he make her heft it alongside her own? She’d probably have to start charging him for that.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that anything of value has been picked clean from this trash heap,” Will announced over the comm. “Too close to Rust Town. But we had to check, as a matter of principal. Part of the salvager’s code: leave no piece of debris unturned. Anyhoo, what say we move on to brighter pastures?”
And so the trio proceeded down the rubble to street level and continued across the damaged street. Blast holes marred the asphalt here, as if this neighborhood had seen significant shelling. Probably the site of an offensive against invading bioweapons.
She instinctively pulled up the search interface on her HUD to check if she could find out what had happened here but stopped herself halfway.
“You know, I find myself missing the Net already,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to looking up every little thing.”
“Your AR interface has an internal dictionary,” Horatio said. “Along with a cached copy of common websites.”
“Yes, but that’s hardly even scratching the surface of what’s out there,” she said. “I feel… disconnected. Like a part of me is missing.”
“Net withdrawal,” Will said. “You’ll get over it.”
Rhea and the others continued to pause along the way to examine different pieces of debris. She and Will found nothing of value, but Horatio dusted off a carburetor that was still working, and promptly stowed it.
“Well, Will and I are winning the game,” Horatio taunted. “We’ve got three salvages apiece. To your zilch.”
“That’ll change,” Rhea said. “Don’t you worry. And besides, a carburetor? That’s barely worth the metal it contains.”
“Salvage is salvage,” Horatio intoned.
The buildings soon gave way to smaller structures. Gizmo scouted the route ahead, confirming no enemies waited in obvious ambush. The party followed after the drone, and soon left behind the ruins entirely, entering the Outlands proper. Out here, rocky terrain ruled the day, and sprawling plains of rock and dirt extended for as far as the eye could see.
“So, we begin the long trek between cities,” Rhea said. “Ever consider investing in transportation? Like a flyer?”
“And miss out on all the rubble along the way?” Will quipped. “Besides, you don’t know how much those things cost.”
The trio advanced, leaving the last of the ruined buildings behind them. Gizmo led the way, rotors running silent two kilometers ahead.
On plains such as these, bioweapons would be visible from well away. Bandits, not so much: during training, the virtual highwaymen had often used natural depressions to hide from view; either that, or boulders. The digital gray clothing the highwaymen favored also made it difficult to spot them when they were lying flat, even when out in the
