Outlander (A Better Future Book 2)
Read Outlander (A Better Future Book 2) Online
Authors: Sarah Jackson
Outlander
By Sarah Jackson
With special thanks to my husband Henry, and to the Orchard’s Apples writing group members, who patiently read all of the draft versions of the story.
Jessie pulled the respirator from his face and checked the valve. He estimated that he had about two days left in the air filter. He wished that he’d taken more, but having left in haste, his immediate concern had been for his life and not packing for a trip. He’d been on the road for a couple of days so far. Actually it was closer to four days, and he still had no idea how close he was to the Citadel. He’d followed Olive’s advice to the letter and stayed next to the train track, so he would have to come across the city sooner or later. Wouldn’t he?
So long as “later” was no longer than two days,
Jessie thought.
Jessie could’ve sworn that the air was getting clearer. He could now make out the pieces of light grey ash against the deeper grey of the sky. He thought that he could see a lot further ahead than he could yesterday, but he might have just been imagining it. Olive had said that the air clears as you get closer to the Citadel. Something to do with the environmental scrubbers used to keep the city air and water clean. She reckoned that eventually the whole atmosphere would be clear again. Jessie wondered what an ‘environmental scrubber’ might look like, and more importantly what a clear atmosphere looked like. He had no idea. Pictures he’d come across in books showed a bright blue sky, and loads of green trees, plants, animals, and light like he’d never seen before.
Books and other stuff were part of Olive’s deal. She had a special licence to bring things into the Citadel to sell at the markets. Books were the most popular items and the easiest for her to come by on her scavenging trips into what was left of the old towns and cities. Sometimes she got lucky and found serviceable furniture, jewelry or bric-a-brac.
Jessie’s dad and his mates didn’t care much about books, or ornaments. They just wanted Olive to move their drugs into the Citadel and bring the exchanges back out; mainly food and items they could use as currency. His father had a whole team of couriers, but Olive was the best.
Jessie remembered that his Dad had seemed a little more than keen on Olive when she first appeared on the scene. She certainly didn’t seem interested in him, at least not beyond interest in the business. Jessie reckoned Olive was about 25, and his dad had to be at least 40. Besides, Olive was really nice looking and could go out with anyone she wanted to and wouldn’t pick someone like his dad. Jessie missed Olive.
Thinking of his dad upset him a bit. He didn’t really like his dad. He didn’t like his dad’s mates much either, but they were all he had. Well, they had been all he had, up until a couple of days ago. Now he didn’t even know if any of them were still alive. He knew that his father wasn’t.
He couldn’t be. Could he?
That huge thug from the rival gang had stabbed him in the chest during the raid. That had been enough for Jessie. He’d been hiding under the benches in the kitchen when it happened. At the first available opportunity he grabbed the food and the bag of filters his father had thrust into his hands earlier, and slid out under the side of the make-shift tent wall. He made a run for it, leaving everyone else in the camp to his or her fate. Not exactly a brave act, but not a stupid one either.
He was lucky that it had been dark when he left. He’d hidden behind the remains of an old bus shelter about half a kilometre away. He watched as the rival gang scavenged what they could from the camp, before setting fire to the shantytown-style buildings that had once been his home. As soon as the attackers’ cars and bikes roared off, he headed quickly in the direction of the railway line. He was certain that they had not found the secret chemicals store in the middle of the camp. He hadn’t seen any barrels being taken out at any rate. Jessie didn’t know much about chemistry, but he’d seen enough accidents in the workshop to know that the stores were going to explode as soon as the fire penetrated the interior rooms.
And they did.
The blasts had lit up the night sky with green, blue, yellow and finally bright red flames. The first blast had knocked him off his feet. He landed roughly, smashing one of his water canisters open against the remains of the old road. He rolled himself off the crumbling bitumen, down a nearby embankment and waited for the blasts to stop.
He must have sat there for hours, but at least he wasn’t using up a lot of air filter. He could hear the ground rumbling and a shrill shriek of metal scraping on metal. The 5.00am train was tearing down the track. He was closer to it than he’d thought, but it was also a lot later in the day than he’d hoped. He moved closer to the line.
Jessie wished that the trains were slower; he could jump on the back of one and ride it to the city. But it was too dangerous. Everything was too dangerous. Cool air rushed over his face as the train hurtled towards the Citadel. Somewhat relieved, Jessie pulled himself up, checked his provisions and made a rough bindle out of his button-up shirt. He pulled his cowl around his head.
Anything to keep the muck out of my hair and ears.
It was warm enough to only wear a t-shirt, but it meant that he would be absolutely filthy by the time he reached his destination.
If he reached it.
His father and his band of associates had been very negative about the Citadel. Their regular discussions were punctuated with slogans like ‘no freedom’, ‘police state’, ‘thought control’, and ‘Big Brother’. When Jessie had asked about the Citadel, his father had said that they didn’t want people like them. They were considered to be radicals and unacceptable ‘independent business people’.
Jessie thought that his dad’s mate, Sol, was more on the money. He’d said that they didn’t want them because they were drug producers and traffickers. What was really scary though, was that Sol had told him that if you were arrested you were put to death. Almost everyone was. Especially drug manufacturers. At least that’s what Sol had said. You were either used for experiments, or executed and your organs harvested by the hospitals. What Sol considered worse than that was the prospect of going in for rehabilitation. He’d never told Jessie what that involved though.
Jessie’s dad had also said that he didn’t want to go to the Citadel because he was one of the few fertile men left. He’d said that he would be kept against his will and treated like a cow.
Olive had told Jessie that it was unlikely that his father was still fertile, as he’d been breathing in the atmosphere of the Outlands for too long. Besides, he’d not produced a child since Jessie, and that was at least 12, maybe as many as 13, years ago. She’d also reassured him that he would not be ‘treated like a cow’ if he went to the city. Jessie had been born into the polluted atmosphere of the Outlands, and it was unlikely that he was fertile now, if he’d ever been. It sounded very confusing.
Olive had also reassured Jessie that if he were to go to the Citadel, he wouldn’t be considered to be a criminal. Not at his age. She indicated that she would make sure of it. Jessie didn’t understand why the word of a bookseller would count for anything, but he trusted her anyway. She’d suggested that he would be assigned a new family and sent to school. Jessie thought that it sounded good. He was a little concerned about starting over, but he’d heard that the new settlements had clean air, clean houses, and more importantly for him, other kids.
When Olive had last been by to collect a shipment, she’d pulled Jessie aside and asked him if he wanted to come back with her. She’d told him not to tell his dad, and he didn’t. He didn’t go with her though; he was too scared about getting in trouble. He now wished that he’d been brave and gone to the city with her. She hadn’t been back since then and he wondered if the Police had caught her. When people didn’t return it usually meant that either they’d decided to stay in the city, got caught doing something illegal, or been murdered travelling through the Outlands. He hoped that she was still alive and safe.
Jessie trudged up a steep hill, kicking the crumbling bitumen with the tip of his too-large shoe. He was tired and hungry and more than a little thirsty. He’d not brought enough water for the journey and was running very short of food supplies. He walked over the crest of the hill, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Just ahead of him he could see an incredibly bright shaft of light breaking through the clouds. It extended all the way from the sky down to the ground. He squinted, the sharp, bright light, burnt his eyes. The ash falling from the sky glistened white/gray as it swirled in the newly formed beam. Jessie had seen this phenomenon before, but it had started occurring more frequently over the past few years. His dad had said that the light was from the sun, and that the breaks in the cloud were from the atmosphere clearing up. He’d told him not to get too excited though; as it was early days yet and it would take years for the atmosphere to get close to anything like normal.
What was this normal anyway?
Jessie walked closer to the light. The beam was about two feet across. Gingerly he placed his bare hand into the stream. It felt warm and tingly. Not like the sticky warm of the ash and smog that filled the atmosphere, but pleasant and reassuring. He turned his hand over so as to catch some of the warmth in his palm. The noise of an approaching vehicle made him withdraw his hand quickly.
He retreated to the shadows behind a rusting truck body as a makeshift motorbike tore by. He hadn’t come across any other people so far, not in person at least, and he was grateful for it. Everybody at the camp had warned him off contact with other residents of the Outlands. Considering that their business dealings were dubious to say the least, citizens of good character were not likely to drop by. From what Jessie could tell, the Outlands were populated by a mix of the criminal, impoverished, insane, and a mishmash of elderly, disabled or bohemian types, who did not want to move into the new city.
Earlier he’d passed what he thought was one of those crazy religious group. There were people singing, and wailing and holding crucifixes. At least that’s what he saw when he peered through the window. These were the only other actual people he’d seen. He decided against going in and saying ‘hello’. In fact he made a big point of staying well out of sight, just as his father had always told him to do.
“They crucify or cut the heads off people they consider to be unholy,” his dad had told him.
Jessie didn’t know what this ‘crucification’ thing was, but he figured it was something really horrible. In addition to religious zealots, he was also frightened of coming across rival drug gangs and criminal mutants
.
Were there mutants? No one had mentioned any mutants? There could be though. The whole place was spooky enough for mutants. Better look out for mutants too.
When the bike was a safe distance away, he came out of his hiding place. He looked for the light shaft, but the clouds had pulled together again. He was alone once more, with the eddying greasy grey smog, and the peculiar groaning and howling noises from the earth and wind for company.
He could hear the distant rumblings of the evening inter-settlement train service coming up the line. They ran twice daily, but rarely stopped in the Outlands. No need. Sometimes the Citadel sent out ‘social services squads’ to check on people’s ‘well being’ and to offer them a chance to come in to the city. Occasionally a ‘justice patrol’ would come out to investigate any major crime, not that much was reported.
Jessie’s father had always hidden him from the squads. He was worried that they’d force him into the city and make him go to school. He never asked Jessie if he wanted to go to school though. About a year back, Jessie had snuck away from the camp to meet one of the squads. They gave him some brochures about school and study. They even offered to bring him some books and supplies so that he could start studying at the camp. But they never came back. In fact the only person from the Citadel to show up after that was Olive.
It started to rain just before nightfall. The thick oily sludge fell heavily on to the dusty remains of the road. It ran down Jessie’s face and into his eyes. As it fell heavier, it attempted to penetrate the edges of his respirator mask. He couldn’t see any obvious shelter. His eyes were smarting, he was tired and he needed to rest. He kept moving.
After a while he came across an old open concrete pipe that run the short distance from one side of the roadway to the other. He slid down the embankment, through the mud and entered the pipe. He pushed some rubbish out of the mouth of it, so that he could sit out of the rain.
Not much shelter, but at least it’s not a sewer,
he thought.
He pulled off his wet, sooty t-shirt and cowl and laid them flat so that they could dry during the night. The sludge rain was heavier now so he risked taking off his mask. The heavy rain often settled the dust and ash. Not ideal breathing conditions, but he needed to conserve his remaining respirator filter.