Amazing what could be done when everything else was quiet, and others were asleep. Most others, anyway.

  “There we go.” She slipped her screwdriver between her teeth and keyed one of her batteries into the starter engine.

  It rolled over a few times before she got a cough out of it, then a rumble. She grinned through the tool in her mouth and moved on to the radiator. The damn thing hadn’t been bled, but it was dry. Their water supplies weren’t much, but they had enough to keep the engine running for a few days while she drove. It held enough gas to get them to New Houston with a bit left over to sell if they needed it.

  Scavengers would pay for a working motor and gas to keep it running. Not premium creds, but enough to secure a place for the night if they were lucky.

  Anselm got to his feet after a few rolls of the motor. His gun was in one hand, his knife in the other, and he scrambled around, not instantly alert but instantly awake.

  “What… Who—”

  She spat her screwdriver out. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Hope you rested well.”

  He blinked a few times and rubbed his face with sand-covered hands. “Better than I did this morning. Sore as fuck, though. How about you?”

  “Got some rest. Got us an engine to move with.” With a grin, she patted the semi’s bumper. “It’ll be a rough ride. I don’t think I can unlatch the trailers without a passcode. From what I saw, there are kill switches rigged up to them that will burn the engine out if I try. An anti-piracy security system. Anyway, we can make good time with the truck. Better than we’ve made on foot.”

  Anselm nodded and holstered his weapons. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you’ve got this hunk of junk working again.”

  “I’m calling her Bessie. And you should always be surprised. I want you to be shocked every time I do something amazing.” She hopped off the bumper. “We’re about a hundred miles from New Houston, so we should get moving. I’ll drive the first leg while you get more rest. You can take over after that.”

  He gathered the packs while Clare collected the tools she’d used to get it all running again. Whoever had been driving the rig before kept up on maintenance. It was almost a century old but in decent condition. All Bessie needed was tender, loving care.

  She climbed into the driver’s seat. Anselm tossed their things into the semi’s cabin before joining her. Plenty of things could still go wrong, but after a few more coughs, the truck pulled out and rolled down the road without any further problems.

  “Doesn’t look like we’re moving fast,” Anselm noted.

  Clare nodded at the road. “Potholes, obstructions, and the sand covers the whole road in some spots. It’s amazing we covered this distance in only a few minutes in the sky car. We need to get back to New Houston if we want to get in touch with your people again.”

  “I’ve already been in touch.” Anselm brushed his fingers across his nose and ran checks on his body to make sure he was functional. “Sent up a distress signal the moment we went down, then a few more over the next few hours.”

  “And they didn’t send help?”

  “They have no jurisdiction here. I’m not supposed to be here. If I was discovered by the proper authorities, I would be disavowed and left to rot and die. Assuming they didn’t send someone to kill me so I wouldn’t become more of a problem.” He spoke without a hint of annoyance or fear. Like it was exactly what he would do if he was in charge. They must’ve drilled that thinking into him from a young age.

  He continued. “I assume they’re trying to think of a way to get us out of here alive without causing an incident. Or just you. Or they want to burn the op, which means we’re fucked.”

  “How will we know if they want to burn the op?”

  “Mercs of a much higher class will come for us.”

  That was comforting. He seemed grumpy and in need of a few more hours’ sleep before he was allowed to interact with regular people. He was good in a fight, but in his state, it was best they not pick any more of those.

  “You operate in miles down here?” Anselm asked after a few minutes of silence between them.

  “Is that all you have to ask?” Clare rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sometimes. People have a hard time letting go of the past.”

  Something buzzed against her leg. She narrowed her eyes and leaned over.

  “Watch the road.”

  “It’ll be fine!”

  Many of the devices tucked away on her person could buzz at any moment for any reason. After a few tries and missed potholes, she found the right one.

  “Rody, nice to hear from you.” She connected the comm device to the truck’s speakers. The electronics were in decent condition, all things considered. “How was your nap?”

  “It looks like I owe you one since this little device told me there were more mercs overhead, trying to figure out what the hell happened.” Rody’s voice was garbled, which meant he was already above ground. “From what I heard, they suspect their people ran afoul of a group of feral vampires. I suppose that isn’t the worst conclusion to come to in these parts. We need to clear them out before they become too entrenched.”

  “Focus, Rody. Are they still there?”

  “Some, although the ones who remain are dead.” Rody laughed. “They dug around for me after the majority of their party had already left. They were investigating what happened. I was able to spring on them and enjoy my first feed of the day. How are things going with you two?”

  “We found a vehicle,” Anselm announced. “Not a fast one, but we’re heading back to New Houston quicker than we would have walking.”

  “Good, because the mercenaries are on your trail. It’s difficult to say how far behind they are. Considering they are driving decent off-roaders, I’m surprised they haven’t found you already. Their tracks head off east, following yours off the road.”

  “Off-roaders will catch up with us before long.” Clare shifted the truck up again. She hated driving semis. Too many gears. “It’s not like they’d be able to miss us.”

  “Shit.” Rody didn’t sound like he wasn’t a twilight person, either. “I’ve got one of their motorcycles. I’ll do my best to catch up and help. You two stay alive.”

  Anselm tilted his head. “You two? I’m surprised you care.”

  “You’re keeping Clare alive, which means yes, you two. Failing that, you’re a pleasant enough bloodbag.”

  “Oh, not me. I’d be an awful meal. I’ll give you terrible indigestion.”

  Clare cut the line off before he could continue. “You’re fucking hilarious.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “You still think I’m hilarious.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m not wrong about the indigestion. The moment the nanobots in my blood sense they’re in a foreign body, they’ll attack it. Won’t protect me from vampires, but it’ll avenge my death at the hands of one. Also works on werewolves if they happen to eat me.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Sure.”

  “You still trust Rody, then?” Anselm pulled his weapon out and dissembled it without so much as a moment’s hesitation. “I question why a vamp wants you to complete your mission.”

  “You’d better hope Rody and Aldonado are on our side in this. Aldonado’s an elder, and he’ll have ties to the Dominio. Get used to dealing with non-humans because when my family finds out about this, they’ll be ripping a whole lot of people several new holes.”

  Anselm grunted although he didn’t look convinced. He had to know she was right, though. If he hated anything that pulled less than ninety-eight percent on the standard tests, if he wanted to survive, and if he wanted Summerland to survive, he had to play nice.

  She knew he was playing nice, but she suspected he would sneak behind Rody and plant a deadwood round in his back before the night was done. Killing a vamp’s progeny was a recipe for a rampage. Killing an elder’s progeny would be an apocalyptic development.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Clare’s hands almost slipped off the wheel. “Ah, sure. Why the fuck not?”

  “Standard rules?”

  “Obviously.”

  “How do you do it?” Anselm had already disassembled and put his gun back together effortlessly, clearing out the oil, dust, and sand. “I won’t pretend I know the first thing about how you do what you do. I have minimal technical knowledge, but it’s like learning a fourth language when you weren’t good with your tongue to start with. The way you do it, it’s almost like you know what’s going on inside. Borderline supernatural.”

  She stared at the speedometer and tapped it a few times to get it to work. They weren’t making the best time. She could barely keep them above forty and dropped below thirty regularly while she navigated the potholes. At least the truck’s shocks were decent.

  “I don’t know.” Clare sighed. “I never thought about it when I was younger. Then it felt so natural when I was older that I thought everyone could do what I did. I get one part made, then I start on the next. When I finish that, I move to the next. It talks to me. I try not to think too far ahead, only to the next thing, and it works.”

  She’d had to explain it a few times to other people, but it never sounded any better. It sounded like bragging, not to mention overly simplistic. She understood how machines were supposed to work. From there, that knowledge applied to anything she got her hands on. It adapted and evolved, and she stored the information.

  He seemed better at explaining what he did. Maybe because he’d had it explained to him by people who understood it.

  “Well, whatever you’ve got, you might want to put it toward moving this truck faster.” Anselm slotted a fresh magazine into his weapon. “Unless there’s a caravan behind us, I’d say we’re about to have company.”

  Clare checked the side mirrors and realized he was right. A dozen vehicles followed. Mostly motorcycles but also a few rigs like the ones the Maneaters had been driving.

  Yet the twinkling lights of New Houston glittered in front of her. She only had to get into a zone patrolled by a border pack or a Guardians-owned area, and they would be good to go.

  “See if you can hold them back!” Clare shouted as she shifted the truck into a higher gear and stomped on the gas pedal. “I’ll try to go faster.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The truck was a decent spot to hold and defend themselves. The semi was higher than the mercs’ ATVs. The trailers could be used as batons to bash anyone overtaking them.

  Still, the vehicle was slow as hell, and the thick clouds of black smoke blowing from the top suggested it wasn’t running tip-top. The mercs would catch up. He trusted Clare’s abilities with technology but wasn’t confident in the state of a vehicle she’d barely managed to put together.

  The truck didn’t look like it would’ve been in great shape even when it was new. Nothing useful for a race to the city.

  He had to stop the mercs from reaching their position.

  Nothing had been easy about this mission. When he returned to Summerland, he would only deal with white-collar crimes. He’d sweat businessmen and sift through financial records instead of running around dealing with actual monsters.

  “Keep it steady!” he shouted as he pulled the door open. Which would have been terrifying at higher speeds. Sixty kilometers per hour was, in fact, fast. The whole semi leaned whenever she pulled away from potholes or obstacles.

  He’d never been on the outside of a moving vehicle. The vids made it seem cooler and more interesting than the reality. He found reality one hell of a disappointment.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Anselm should have answered before he opened the door. Afterward wasn’t an option, as he’d have a mouthful of sand. The truck kicked up mayhem in its wake, leaving him thankful he wore a visor to protect his eyes.

  “Keep the truck steady!” He should have simply leaned out the window, but then he wouldn’t have access to the other side of the truck. Clare fought to keep the whole thing on the road and moving as quickly as it could without burning the engine out or turning them over.

  His firearm synced with his visor, which tried to pick out the approaching vehicles’ locations through the dust clouds. The ATVs were the threats, with powerful guns that could tear the truck to pieces.

  Clare would keep them from gaining a decent shot. They could move across the rough terrain, but not any faster than the truck was on the road. If they wanted to overtake them, they had to go on the road themselves. They could only slow Clare down.

  He spotted motorcycles. Ten of them.

  The battle played out in his head. His training guided him out of the truck’s cabin and onto the platform. Though platform wasn’t the right word for it, since he had to hold onto the truck to stand on it. The visor marked a couple of clear shots, but Anselm refused to take them.

  He slipped between the truck and the first trailer. Nothing in his training had ever prepared him for a fight like this, but he was calm. He needed to use his slight advantage, which was a mere crack in the door. If he leveraged it right, he would blow the whole thing wide open.

  If he didn’t, he would die quickly and instantly. Then it would be someone else’s problem.

  Anselm smirked as he reached the connection between the semi and its trailers. He could live with those odds.

  A smooth jump to the ladder leading to the top of the trailer and a reverse follow-up brought him to the cabin roof. He knew better than to present himself as a clear target for the sharpshooters behind them.

  The sharpshooter mercs’ presence was unsettling. He’d pictured the people on the ground as barbaric monsters and humans held hostage by the barbarians. The idea remained in the back of his head until it was shattered the moment he set foot on the ground.

  Humans lived in apparent harmony with the creatures. Who the fuck would have thought it?

  “I should have brought the rifle.” Anselm sighed and steadied himself on the truck’s cabin. One motorcycle had slipped through Clare’s defenses and came alongside as it tried to reach the driver’s side door. “Clare, lock the door!”

  He didn’t know if she’d hear him over the rumble of the engine. He shifted on the roof and opened fire on the cyclist.

  He fired a few standard rounds before he switched over to scattershot. One round of that blew the motorcycle’s tires and tumbled the rider under the trailer wheels.

  Anselm climbed back to his feet at the same moment the truck hit a pothole. He tumbled forward and managed to catch the trailer. He’d pulled himself halfway up when he spotted two more motorcycles closing in. It seemed the mercs had decided not to risk shooting the whole rig. They wanted to drag Clare from the cabin.

  “Assholes.” Anselm rolled when he heard shots coming from his left. Three grapplers slammed into the trailer as he turned to fire on the motorcycles. One went down, almost dragging the second with him. The rider jumped clear in time and grabbed the side of the truck to keep from going under.

  At least the rider was out of the fight for the moment. Anselm turned his attention to the grapplers. Magnetic, from the sounds they’d made when they connected. He couldn’t get them off manually, but if he got close enough, he could disable the electronics.

  The three mercs were already rappelling up the lines. Anselm leaped up and scrambled across the top of the trailer as the first one reached the upper surface. He hammered his boot into the merc’s chest and sent him through the dust cloud to the ground.

  More were on the way.

  “Shit.” Anselm retrieved a multi-use tool from his coat, one he never thought he would use on the ground. It could be used as a cable cutter, a hammer, a voltage meter, or a battery. The last option required more work. Maybe Clare could show him how to fully use the device.

  As he worked to cut the wire, a pair of rounds slammed into his body armor. The moment he finished and straightened, a few mercs managed to reach the roof.

  Somehow, they missed him in the cloud of dust and scrambled for their weapons. Submachine guns. High-tech ones, although they required a hot second to warm up to battle readiness. From the way the mercs fiddled with the dials, this was their first time using the equipment. They clearly didn’t know to put it in basic mode for emergencies.

  Anselm rolled and planted the cutters through the closest merc’s boot. It went through the trailer’s thin steel, too. The merc screamed and dropped with a loud, reverberating thud. Anselm shot the second merc’s head off before he got the hang of his brand-new weapon.

  “You done fucked up!” Anselm growled at the merc who was trying to pry his foot loose. “Assuming you survive, spread the story. Do not fuck with Clare, or an adjudicator!”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” He doubted the merc had heard him, anyway. He yanked his tool out and kicked the merc away. Between the shooting and the roaring engines, it was impossible to hold a conversation with bloodthirsty mercs.

  He cut the second line before those climbing it reached the top. He was on the way to the third when the mercs pulled back to their vehicles, and the line disconnected.

  One problem resolved. Yet another had been presented. Anselm turned and raced toward the cab. The merc who’d managed to pull out of the crash had dragged himself to the door. He’d broken through the window and had a weapon pointed at Clare’s head.

  Anselm didn’t know if they wanted to bring her in alive or dead, but he couldn’t risk it. He put as much speed into his sprint as he could and jumped over the edge. The merc hadn’t even looked up when he tackled him at the midsection and sent them both tumbling into the dust cloud.

  It was a risk. Before he jumped, Anselm had noticed the merc’s finger wasn’t on the trigger, which hopefully meant they didn’t want to risk accidentally shooting Clare. The drop could kill them both, but Anselm pushed over with the merc between him and the ground.