“Why didn’t you remind me that we hadn’t eaten?” Makeda broke the energy bar into thirds and passed two pieces to Tojo and Imre.
Tojo chuckled as he accepted his tiny meal. “And wake you up? No. Not me.”
Imre agreed as he ate his piece in a single bite. “I’ve learned not to wake a woman up unless she says to.” The two men exchanged conspiratorial glances and grinned.
Makeda rolled her eyes and finished her meal in two bites. As she did so, she poured a cup of water for Imre. Each cup held about a hundred sixty milliliters of liquid. “Drink it. This is all we have until we can find a safe source for water.” She poured herself a cup and gulped it down.
Tojo, who had been nibbling on his piece of breakfast, pointed upward. “What about the snow?” He stuffed the rest of the energy bar in his mouth and made a face.
“No. Eating snow can dehydrate you. Your body has to work too hard to break it down. Plus, it’s cold. Hypothermia. Not to mention, you don’t know what kind of little beasties live in the snow.” Makeda poured him a cupful of the water. “We’ll be okay with this for now.” She gave him a confident smile she did not really feel. “So drink up.”
Leaving the cave was harder than Makeda thought it would be. None of them had realized just how much the earth had protected them from the cold and wind. As soon as she was boosted out of the hole, Makeda knew they would have to find shelter before nightfall. If they didn’t, they would require a fire to keep from freezing.
Imre boosted Tojo out next. “Holy hoop. It’s fraggin’ cold out here.”
“You’ll warm up as soon as we get moving. Help me.” She and Tojo pulled Imre from the cave with a bit of effort.
“Ach du meine Güte,” Imre muttered and shivered. “Did it snow last night? Is it supposed to snow in the spring?”
Looking back the way they’d come, their tracks, still somewhat visible, were covered in a fresh layer of obscuring snow. “Yeah. Good and bad for us.” Makeda rubbed her hands together. Last night, she’d used the sun to figure out which way was north—and civilization. “C’mon.”
The clear morning and dwindling trees made for easier hiking, but it did nothing for Makeda’s nerves. With fewer places to hide if a vehicle flew overhead, they’d be spotted in a minute. Moving from the higher snow-covered areas to the grassy vales helped a little. The red in Imre’s coat and her shirt didn’t stand out quite so much, and there were large boulders and juts of rocks to hunker next to if needed.
By midday, it had warmed up enough that Makeda tied the armored jacket over her shoulders like a cape and Tojo had shifted to carrying his jacket, though he kept both shirts on. Imre opened his duster, but didn’t take it off. When they rested in the shadow of a huge boulder, Makeda broke open the Buzzbuzz and gave out the caffeinated candy chews. Each of them ate it and drank the last of their bottled water with mingled regret and relief.
“How far to get to where we’re going?” Tojo’s face was red from exertion and the sun. It was clear he’d never gone on a hike like this before.
Makeda eyed his shoes, wondering how many blisters he had. She didn’t ask. She had at least one growing at the base of her left big toe. It was just as well he hadn’t told her about them if he had any. There wasn’t much she could do about them now. “I don’t know. I figure it can’t be more than ten kilometers before we hit civilization. Or, hopefully, a signal.”
“Haven’t gone this long without checking the news or my e-mail or forums in like…ever.” Imre stretched. “Or gone so long without food.”
Makeda snorted. There was a man who’d never had to scrap for his piece. She wondered what it would’ve been to have a childhood like that. Golden handcuffs. That wasn’t her story. Growing up as a poor military brat had trained Makeda to watch for opportunities, mistrust authority figures, and go hungry in silence. Her parents had worked hard for what they had. It was never enough.
“Me, either.” Tojo brightened. “But I guess I’ll have some war stories to tell my new friends over drinks.”
Somewhat amazed at Tojo’s optimism and naivety, Makeda stood. “Come on. If we’re lucky, we’ll find either shelter or a signal before dark. Pray for the signal. My team will be here to pick us up as soon as they can find us.”
She led the way again, setting a fast but not overly aggressive pace. She didn’t feel the least bit guilty about lying to them. She had no idea if her team was even still in Switzerland or if they’d moved on to Spain already. Part of her hoped they were still around and within helping distance. TechnoGalen had contacts everywhere. As soon as she got a signal, he’d be able to help. But she couldn’t say any of this to her clients.
Makeda still hadn’t put her finger on what, exactly, it was about Imre that her gut didn’t like, and Tojo didn’t need to lose his optimistic spirit. That would keep him going for a long time. Though it was true that a signal would be more help than shelter. The question was, what kind of Plan B had her team put together once the train had been attacked? Did they leave anything behind for her?
The fog crept back in by late afternoon, and the temperature dropped enough that everyone bundled back up. The sun shone in scant lances through the low-lying clouds and deepening fog. The smell of loamy earth rose around them. Every fifteen minutes of their impromptu hike, Makeda checked her comms with a subvocal update. “Still walking. It’s foggy. Where the hell are you? Galen? Saladin? Are you reading me?”
She was just about to call a halt when a stranger called it for her. “Sluta. Vem är du? Vad gör du här?” The creaky, feminine voice came out of the fog to the right. She sounded irritated.
Makeda stopped with her hand inside her coat. She waved the other two back. “Excuse me?”
“American,” the unseen woman spat. “Take your hand out of your coat slowly. I have you in my sights.”
Makeda obeyed, shifting her cybereyes to thermographic vision. A short, squat woman with a rifle pointed at them stood in the shadow of a tree, becoming part of it. She looked like a dwarf with old style cybergoggles. “We’re just passing through. Looking for a road or signal.”
“That doesn’t tell me who you are or why you’re here on my land.” The rifle, a Remington 900 from its silhouette, didn’t waver.
“There was an accident. We’re looking for help. Please.” Makeda shifted, making sure she put herself between Tojo and the gun. “We’re hungry and thirsty.”
“We can pay,” Imre added. “I have corp scrip.”
The dwarf ignored Imre. “What’s your name, schwarze?”
Makeda winced at the slur, then pushed her reaction away. It wasn’t like she’d never been insulted by bigots before. “Makeda. My name is Makeda.”
“You with the men? Willingly?” The tip of the Remington shifted towards Imre.
Makeda relaxed half a touch. If the woman was concerned with whether or not she was a prisoner, it was possible they were going to be able to get out of this without anyone dying. “Yeah. I am. I’m the one leading them out of the mountains. You might say they’re my wards.”
“You step forward, Makeda.” The rifle remained on Imre.
Tojo took half a step toward Makeda, lifting a hand to clutch at her. He froze at the clack of the Remington being cocked. “Makeda, no…”
The rifle now pointed at her and Tojo.
Makeda waved him back. “I’ll be fine. Don’t. Move. Don’t.” She pointed at each of them. “There’s a Remington 900 pointed at us. It can do a lot of damage.” She turned back to the dwarf woman. “I’m coming. Please don’t hurt them.”
As soon as the short woman came into sight through the fog, Makeda shifted to normal vision and was surprised to see how old the dwarf was. She couldn’t have been more than a meter high, her iron hair hid what color it had been in more youthful days, and her face was a mass of wrinkles—both smile and frown lines. Makeda was shocked at how old her tech was. The goggles were almost welded to the woman’s face with scar tissue. Keeping her hands up, Makeda stopped about halfway between the two sets of people. She didn’t say anything as she waited on the dwarf’s pleasure.
“If the Jap or Schwob have you captive, now’s a good time for you to let me know. I can leave them for the wildlife.” There was no hint of remorse or regret in those words.
Makeda shook her head, almost surprised at such racist terms being used so casually. “No ma’am. They really are my wards. I’d appreciate you not hurting them.” Even with her enhanced reflexes, she didn’t think she could retrieve her gun and shoot the woman before the rifle did its damage.
“Jaså. A black woman in charge of a German and an oriental guy? I’ve seen stranger things, but not by much.” The dwarf considered the three of them. “Heard there was a train accident yesterday a ways from here. You from it?” Despite the woman’s apparent old age, the rifle never wavered in her liver-spotted hands.
There was no way to tell what answer would get them what they needed. Right now, that was more important, and the dwarf woman was calm enough. “We need to get help.”
“Didn’t answer my question. I think the answer is yes. You blow it up?”
Again, Makeda shook her head. “No.” Part of her wanted to say a lot more. To beg for a Matrix connection and food and water. Self- preservation told her to keep her mouth shut. She kept her silence.
“You know who blew it up?” “No.”
The woman tilted her head. “You know why they blew it up?”
Makeda looked back at Tojo and shrugged. “I don’t know.” She thought she did, but wasn’t willing to give this stranger that kind of information.
“I really don’t like people on my property. There’s gonna be more of you, I’ll bet.”
“Please. If you give us a little food and water and maybe a Matrix connection, we’ll be gone as fast as we can go.” Makeda shivered. The sun had dipped behind the mountain, and temperature dropped fast.
The dwarf lowered her rifle, letting the tip of it dip to the ground. “My name is Vasti. If you’re fraggin’ up the corps, I guess I can give you a hand. You wouldn’t last another day out here in the mountains. Not with the mana storms coming and the incryptids running about.” Makeda sighed in relief. “Thank you. We appreciate it. We really do.”
She would have said more, but Tojo took this moment to collapse to his knees, then face plant in the grass.