| |
62 AND HIS FRIENDS CREPT down Rattlesnake Mountain in the early morning light. The heat of the previous day had been lost to the chill of the desert night, but 62 wasn’t bothered by the cold wind whipping frantically at the hems of his clothes. He and 00 had gone up the mountain mere Boys, but after discovering that the technology they’d brought to life was trying to start a war, they no longer felt like children. They were young Men now, weighed down with the heft of the world’s problems on their shoulders. Sunny trailed far behind. She’d kept to herself most of the morning. She moved cautiously, keeping her glass-encased eyes to the ground, choosing each step as if it might be her last.
They made their way back to the antiquated jailhouse. When the edge of the structure came into view, they didn’t rush to its doors, rejoicing in the warm glow of homecoming like other weary travelers might. Instead, 62 and the others paused. 62 looked to his friends, feeling unsure if they should return, or go back the way they came and disappear over the mountain, never to be heard from again.
62 cleared his throat, deciding to press on. “00, when we get in, turn on the radiation counter. Sunny, let’s get cleaned up as fast as we can. We’ve got to eat before we decide what to do about the bot.”
Sunny and 00 each nodded. 62 started forward again, coming around the last bend of the trail. Now the full width and height of the building was in view. 62 gaped at what should have been open ground between the building and where he stood. He lifted a hand, wiping the dust from his mask’s lenses, blinking furiously beneath the glass to make sure his eyesight wasn’t playing tricks on him.
00 and Sunny stopped next to him, brushing against each of his shoulders with their own.
“What are they doing here?” Sunny’s small voice asked through her mask’s thick filter.
Dozens of figures littered the area outside the jailhouse. The yard had been overtaken by wheelbarrows, wagons, and crates, each accompanied by a body or two who were busy unloading bags and boxes. Those who weren’t unloading were sprawled over boulders and overturned crates, engaged in a chatter that buzzed like one of the beehives in Hanford’s greenhouses.
One of the mass of figures approached them, stepping over heaps of bags and bodies. The figure paused here and there, speaking to others as it made its way toward 62 and his friends. The person approaching was tall. Broad. Familiar.
“We were wondering where you’d gone!” Parker’s voice rang out. The lenses of his mask glinted in the sunlight, giving a hint of whatever cheerful expression the heavy material of his mask was hiding.
“We were at the radio room,” 62 said in a halting voice. “What are you doing here?”
Parker came close, wrapping his arms around Sunny. He pecked her covered forehead with the filter of his mask, mimicking an affectionate kiss. “We got your message. When it kept repeating, Blue and I understood. We told everyone about the radio, and most of them came to listen.” Parker pulled back from Sunny partway, keeping one arm around her shoulders while he waved the other in a broad arc over the crowd. “These are the people who decided they were ready to help.”
“Help with what, exactly?” 00 asked.
“That’s up to you.” Parker’s eyes glistened under his mask. His cheeks were curved and cheerful. “Whatever you have planned, wherever you’re going, and with whatever tech you decide to use to get there, we’re with you.”