When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 3

Still rattled from Theodore's sudden braking, Beth struggled to make sense of what she saw. A dead tree lay across the highway ahead of them, its branches and twigs fractured and a-jumble. Yet its thick trunk remained unbroken, blocking the passage as solidly as any wall of mortar and stones.

To the left, its roots hid behind one of the many boulders lining the road on that side. Its other end had squashed the corroded guard rail and projected over the edge of the highway, projecting into the void above a steep downhill slope.

"Where did that come from?" Theodore shook his head. "It wasn't here when we drove out two days ago."

"The wind must have brought it down," Burt said. "These trees have been dead for decades. Their wood's all brittle. Can you drive around it?"

"Nope." Theodore pointed a thumb at the van's rear compartment. "But we've got a saw back there. We can cut a piece out and tow it off."

"I can help you with the sawing. I've got the muscle to do it." Burt bulged his massive biceps. "And the brains, of course." He grinned at Beth.

Ignoring the tease, she shook her head, feeling uneasy. "There has been little wind these days, so why should this tree have fallen?"

Amid the rocks and the trunks lining the road, countless hiding places could lend cover to an enemy. Greedy, malevolent eyes might be watching them from there.

"Right, niece. That's what's worrying me, too. Let's back off. Then we'll radio the people at Seaside." Theodore turned the wheel and switched into reverse. The tires screeched as he made a backward quarter-turn.

Movement at the side of the road, uphill from them, caught Beth's eye. A short, wiry man had appeared out of nowhere. He swung an axe against a tree next to the highway.

"Someone's out there!" She pointed at the location where she had seen him, but he had disappeared again.

A shudder went through the tree he had hit. Then, as if reluctant to give up its proud pose, it slowly tilted towards the road. The motion gained momentum and purpose, and the trunk crashed onto the tarmac with the sound of bones breaking.

Dust billowed up and rolled towards them.

"Fuck," Theodore said as a cloud of roiling ochre shrouded the van. He opened the dashboard compartment and pulled out a pistol.

Beth stared at the weapon. She had known the gun to be there, but she'd never seen anyone draw it, nor had she ever heard the faint click of its safety being released.

"Don't panic now." Theodore squinted into the dust outside. "This car was military issue, and our windows are bulletproof. The dirt rats out there won't have anything but arrows and stones if they want to attack. We'll radio Seaside, and then we'll just wait for the chopper to get us out of here."

Her uncle's words failed to put Beth at ease. They were trapped, with the rats out there having all the time in the world to pry their vehicle open.

Burt squeezed her arm. "Don't worry, Beth. We'll handle this."

The man's touch felt unfamiliar and comforting at the same time. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart.

Slowly, the dust settled to reveal the trap that had caught them. The van stood at a right angle to the road, midway in its unfinished turn, with the newly felled tree on their left side and the old one on their right. Ahead, on the uphill side of the highway, rocks, and trunks rendered any passage impossible. And behind them, the terrain made a steep drop into the valley.

Theodore lifted the microphone from its hook on the dashboard and activated the radio. "Seaside?"

Static answered.

Outside, at the roots of the second fallen tree, the man's head reappeared—black, greasy hair topping a scarred face. His grin revealed a set of yellowish teeth.

Beth pushed herself against the backrest, grateful for the glass between her and the savage.

"Seaside," Theodore repeated, louder this time.

Another man and a woman emerged from the shelter of a rock and joined their companion. She looked as if she had sprung from an old cartoon—her bow was longer than herself, and her shiny, black dress ended at her knees. The golden skin of her arms and legs glistened in the sun.

"Theodore?" The commanding voice of Beth's grandpa filled the van's cabin amid a surge of static noise. "This is Daniel. What's the matter?"

"Dan, it's good to hear you." The calm words contrasted with the pearls of sweat on Theodore's receding hairline. "We've run into an ambush here. Gang members. I see three of them. We're almost back, about two or three hours from you, still on the highway where it comes from the mountains. On the other side of the city."

Someone or something banged against the rear of the van, making Beth gasp. Three other men appeared, passing the vehicle from its tail side. One of them towered as broad and as tall as a mountain. The other two, barely the giant's shoulders, wore identical brown garb, had shocks of wild, black hair, and looked like twins. While the large man ignored the Seasiders, the two smaller ones glowered at them as they passed.

The three joined their companions on the uphill side of the highway.

"Wait, Dan," Theodore said into the microphone, "there are at least six. This is a bloody mess here. We need help. We need that bloody chopper."

"Three hours out, you...?" A hiss of static made Dan's voice fade. "... at the chopper's max range. We must charge it first, to full capacity. It'll take us an hour or two to get to you."

Hours? Beth was about to protest as movement outside distracted her. One of the gang rats detached himself from the group and approached, unhurried. The metal rivets on his dark leather jacket glinted in the sun.

"Make it faster," Theodore said. "I don't like this."

"We'll do our best." Daniel hesitated. "Are Beth and Burt with you?"

"Yes, right next to me. They're listening."

"Beth?" Daniel said.

The man outside had reached the van's bonnet. Shading his face with one hand, he peered through the dusty windshield. For a moment, the unveiled curiosity of his dark eyes probed Beth. His Asian features were hard to read, foreign. She'd never seen such people before—not in the flesh, only in old vids.

"Beth?" Daniel repeated.

She pulled her gaze from the stranger and took the microphone from Theodore's hand. "Yes, grandpa?"

"We'll be with you as quickly as we can, I promise. And we'll kill the rats."

The man outside stood no more than an arm's length from Beth, with only a thin pane of glass separating them. Chafed and cracked, the leather of his jacket had to be tech age. He had turned his gaze away from the passengers and studied the top of their vehicle.

Getting a grip on herself, she focused on the microphone in her shaking hands. "Thanks, grandpa. These people... please hurry."

"We'll be—"

In one fluid movement, the man climbed the car's bumper, and a popping noise came from the roof.

"Grandpa?" She looked at the microphone, afraid she had damaged it in her desperate grip. "Dan?"

"He can't hear you anymore, Beth." Burt pointed at the man outside, who had climbed down again.

The gang rat had a lopsided grin on his face, but his narrowed eyes lacked all mirth.

He held an antenna in his hand.