Tales of the Wastelander Ch. 55 - Teaser (Patreon)

The fuel gauge had been sitting on empty for nearly twenty miles, and Commander Rourke had stopped trusting it ten miles ago. The truck continued anyway, the old engine coughing each time the road inclined. It rattled hard enough that something beneath the floor occasionally struck metal with a hollow clang. Every few minutes, the driver leaned forward as though getting closer to the windshield might somehow convince the machine to keep moving.

It was one of three vehicles still running, and they had left Toledo with seven. One had been abandoned after throwing a belt they could not replace. Another had broken an axle while the third had simply died and refused every attempt to revive it. The fourth had been stripped for anything useful before they burned what they could not carry.

Now three remained and Rourke doubted all three would reach the regional station. He sat in the passenger seat with one elbow against the door, watching endless green slide past through dusty glass. There was nothing but forest, broken road, and more forest as they rolled on by. Occasionally, the half-swallowed remains of something from the Before appeared between the trees.

A rusted sign, a collapsed farmhouse, and the odd power pole leaning drunkenly beside a road that no longer needed them. Humanity had once filled this country, and now the country was swallowing humanity back. Behind him, someone coughed, and someone else swore. Nobody smelled good, as they had been traveling too long for dignity.

Their uniforms were filthy, and their faces were streaked with sweat, road dust, and old smoke. Several survivors still carried bandages from Toledo. One man’s shoulder had begun to smell wrong two days ago, though the medic insisted the wound itself remained clean. Everyone was tired, angry, and knew they were still far from home.

Not home in the sentimental sense, as Rourke had never been sentimental about concrete. Home was the regional station, which was a fortified installation built inside and beneath a Before-era complex. It was far enough from the old population corridors that few outsiders had ever stumbled across it accidentally.

That remoteness had once seemed excessive, but now Rourke appreciated it. D’Troi had fallen under Regulator control and Toledo had been compromised, as the Great Expanse was moving. Remote was becoming increasingly valuable, as it was something they needed if they were to continue carrying out their work.

The truck struck a hole, making everyone bounce, and he heard Dr. Vale swearing behind him. Rourke looked over his shoulder and saw the lead scientist wedged between equipment cases containing what remained of the Toledo project’s records. They held hard copies, storage drives, sample logs, genetic maps, and behavioral observations. They contained every scrap they had managed to pull before abandoning the facility.

Vale looked almost as exhausted as the soldiers, though Rourke knew she would rather swallow glass than admit it. Her hair, usually kept immaculately bound, had escaped in several places. Dirt marked one cheek, and her coat had torn near the shoulder. She nevertheless maintained the expression of someone personally offended by the universe’s failure to recognize her importance.

Across from her, Lieutenant Masters was asleep sitting upright, looking as though he was resting in a proper bed. Rourke envied him, as the lieutenant had the ability to fall asleep in the most bizarre of places, which in this situation was a gift. The truck coughed again, and Vale looked toward the front, her face a mask of annoyance.

“How much farther?” she questioned.

“Far,” Rourke told her.

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the answer you’re getting.”

“Commander—” she started, her mouth tightening.

“The gauge has been sitting on empty for twenty miles, Doctor. The last fuel cache we expected to find had already been scavenged, and the secondary road washed out six miles beyond it. At present, my primary concern is keeping this vehicle moving,” the soldier stated.

“My primary concern is getting those records home intact,” Vale groused as she looked back toward the equipment cases.