Gamma World: Tempus Fugitive: Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Over the next several days the companions were kept quite busy. A further search of the building revealed a garage bay in the back. Which explained why there was no access to this section from the rest of the mall. Part of the rear wall of the showroom actually retracted, creating a large entrance-exit. It was how the dealership had gotten the vehicles in and out in the first place. A search of the bay turned up many spare parts, and they were quickly taken off the shelves and stored in the motorhome.
    Using the owner’s manual along with more detailed books that had once belonged to the dealership’s mechanics, Cera went over the entire motorhome and tested all its components to make sure they worked. They did. The vehicle was a marvel of omega technology; yet surprisingly wasn’t too complex. At least for the weasel girl who had a knack for machinery. Garadun, despite being from pre-Disaster Earth, did not have a way with machines and computers and never had. Another discovery made was that the land yacht had four-wheel drive. This was tremendous news and Garadun explained to his friend how four-wheel drive worked and how it would make driving in rough terrain so much easier. The weasel girl was thrilled. However, one component that was needed to get the fusion engine back in working order was synthetic oil. Fortunately this was an omega compound kept in the garage. You simply added water to a powdered chemical, mixed it thoroughly, and there you were. The garage’s entire supply was taken. As were all the tools Cera could lay her hands on. These were put in the motorhome’s storage compartments. The entire vehicle was also badly in need of a wash and they gave it one; it was cleaned inside and out.
    Keys for the vehicle were in what must have been the manager’s office. This included the key for the engine. To start it you simply pressed the START button, but the key had to be inserted first; this was a security measure to prevent people from just hopping in and driving away with your motorhome. There was a second key for the main door and a third for the locks on all the outer storage compartments. There were three sets of keys: Cera and Garadun each kept one and the third was hidden in a tiny plastic box which was put in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.
    The motorhome’s water tanks held a total of a thousand litres. Dirty water from the sinks and shower would be sent to a special tank that fuelled the fusion engine. The waste from the toilet went into a septic tank. It was all very efficient. Additionally, the RV had a water purifier that would even take the salt out of seawater (the salt could then be used on your food). According to the manuals, the vehicle’s solid rubber wheels were immune to punctures and the synthetic rubber material was highly resistant to extremes of heat and cold. Cera suspected they could even resist acid. But spares were secured on the roof just in case. The entire chassis, suspension system, gearbox, axles and brakes were made from duralloy, just like the framework. Duralloy was an omega metal that was extremely light yet far stronger than anything the Ancients had come up with. The panels that made up the body were some kind of extremely tough polymer.
    The interior was made from leather, cloth, wood and linoleum – all of them synthetic. The oven, sinks and fridge were stainless steel, as were the bathroom fixtures. The countertops were actual granite. Another feature of the motorhome that Cera thought amazing was that the main sofa was actually a hide-a-bed. Not only that, but the dinette section could be turned into a makeshift sleeping area. The table between the two seats could be removed and sliding sections under the seats would be pulled out and joined together. Toss on extra cushions and you had another place to sleep.
    With Symphony’s guidance the entire mall was searched for anything that might be useful, either as gear or to trade with. Like most shopping malls there were numerous clothing stores and the majority of those were dedicated to women. Time had taken its toll and even protected from the elements most of the apparel had decayed to the point of being unusable. Not all, though. There were enough items made from synthetic materials that the weasel was able to give herself a new wardrobe. What didn’t suit her was put in suitcases taken from a luggage shop and put away to be traded. Since all the human had were the clothes he’d arrived in, getting him kitted out was a priority.
    The RV came with its own audio-visual system, so electronics stores were looted for music and videos. Once Symphony was shown how to use the equipment, she quickly became a couch kitty. She could watch videos for hours at a time. Garadun and Cera raided the bookshops for reading material. Sporting goods stores were picked clean of the best camping equipment and related gear. What they didn’t use could be traded for things they needed. Gamma Terra’s economy was primarily a barter system.
    Food was a big concern. All of them had to eat – especially Symphony who had so many little mouths to feed. She hunted in the city, taking down all sorts of birds, rodents and reptiles, big and small. Even the occasional terl. Although she was perhaps the cutest thing in all of Gamma Terra, she was far from helpless. Cats were arguably the most successful predators of all time. But on the road she wouldn’t be able to hunt and Cera’s supply of food was limited. She’d only stored a few weeks worth for herself on the airship, and between them that would go in days.
    Once again the omega mall came to the rescue. Although the normal supplies that were used in the food court had gone bad within days or weeks of the Big Mistake, there was a shop that sold preserved food. It was a brand name called KwikFud (Every Pouch is a Tasty Meal!). It was a dehydrated combination of powder and solid chunks, packaged and thoroughly irradiated for maximum shelf life. So long as the seal remained intact it would last for centuries. All you had to do was either add hot water or pour in water and pop it in the microwave for two minutes on high, and voila! You had a complete meal ready to eat. Needless to say there were countless varieties: chicken soup, mac and cheese, beef teriyaki, scrambled eggs, ramen noodle; even pizza or hamburger (this last was an acquired taste; the company had never really gotten it right). Juice drinks, sodas and milk came in similar packages: pour into water and stir. There was even a small line of KwikFud packages that produced assorted loaves of bread. There was one KwikFud outlet and the sporting goods stores also had some on the shelves (perfect for camping). The weasel girl, human and kittens took every pouch they could find.
    All manner of kitchenware, from plates and glasses to pots and pans, were taken from the food court and department stores. Toilet paper that had managed to survive the decades was also taken, as were any household cleaning supplies. Plastic buckets, car squeegee wipers, shovels, crowbars, salt shakers, empty jars, lawn chairs, garden hoses, umbrellas; pretty much anything that they could find a use for they took at least two of each. It was a balance between need and actually having the storage space to carry it all. Luckily there weren’t only storage compartments on either side, but there was a huge one in the rear. The omega mall was a goldmine of tradable goods. They raided the other RVs for bed linen, pillows and cushions, along with a few other parts.
    During the days of preparation they slept in their new motorhome to get used to it. Garadun was a gentleman and insisted that Cera take the bedroom as her own. He would likely be dead by now if not for her. She was his best friend, his guide to Gamma Terra, and as far as he was concerned, the group leader. She was also used to having her own quarters back home at Big Boat. This was her quest. The bedroom was hers. He would sleep on the hide-a-bed. The weasel girl was very grateful for his thoughtfulness.
    Symphony was used to sleeping in her assorted safe spots in the omega mall, so the motorhome was a new experience. Like all cats she basically slept where she wanted. In the motorhome this was usually on the bed with Cera; but sometimes she slept next to Garadun or they would make up the dinette area for her.
    And though he was careful to conceal his feelings, those first few nights were hard for Garadun. During the day in the company of his mutant friends he didn’t have time to think about anything other than the job at hand. But alone in the dark at night with his mind free of distractions, the horror of it all sunk in and he wept. His world was gone, utterly gone, and with it all his friends and family and everything he’d ever known. He was alone as never before in a bizarre world where everything seemed willing and able to kill him. Only the presence of his new friends kept him from losing it.
    The turning point of his sorrow becoming manageable was when one night, as he lay awake in bed, a little kitten padded across the sheets and cuddled against him. She was followed by another and another until all of Symphony’s little selves had settled down on the bed with him. Dozens of affectionate kitties were a soothing balm against his terrible grief and loneliness, and eased his pain as only cats could.

                                                                          *****

Getting the bus-sized motorhome out of the dealership showroom and outside into the mall parking lot was not easy, to say the least.
    It was a big showroom, but there were two other RVs in the place along with displays and desks that had once been used by salesmen. Garadun had spent his entire life from the age of fifteen driving a car, so he was an old hand behind the wheel. But driving something the size of a Class A motorhome was a whole new experience altogether. The first thing he needed was more room to manoeuvre. He and Cera got all the assorted furniture out of the way, then released the emergency brake on the glorified minivan and, with a lot of effort, pushed it out of the showroom, through the garage bay, and out into the parking lot. One down.
    Due to the position it was in, the mid-sized motorhome couldn’t be pushed out of the showroom. The huge land yacht was in the way. But with a lot of heaving and shoving they were at least able to push it into a corner to provide a bit more space. Symphony felt bad that she was of no use in these endeavours (she was just a bunch of kittens after all) but she miaowed her friends on encouragingly. Two down.
    Garadun got behind the wheel, started up the engine and, after taking a deep breath, began very, very slowly backing up the wheeled behemoth. According to the specs in the manual, the motorhome was 10.5 meters long, 2.57 meters wide and 3.7 meters high; with a wheel base of 5.3 meters and an unloaded weight of 7,570 kilograms. Or in other words: sodding enormous. The loud deent deent deent of the hazard horn got on his nerves in about ten seconds. It also hurt the sensitive ears of the kittens.
    So Garadun killed the engine, put the parking brake on and asked Cera to find the damn thing and disconnect it. Not only was it bloody annoying, but out in the wilds of Gamma Terra the last thing they needed was some high-pitched horn going off every time they put the vehicle in reverse.
    The weasel girl found and neutralised it. They tried again.
    It was not easy. Cera was standing behind the motorhome as Garadun reversed it, giving him directions. The one advantage of having her helping him was that she linked them telepathically – no shouting required, no misheard instructions. There was a lot of backing up, stopping, turning, going forward, stopping, and backing up again. It was extremely tedious and he had to start over twice before he eventually got the damn thing lined up just so and was able to turn it so that it managed to get into the garage bay with the rear squarely facing the open bay door. That was the hardest part of the whole exercise. From there it was the less challenging but still nerve-wracking matter of backing up in a straight line out of the garage. Three down.
    Kittens came running out of the garage and met up with a jubilant weasel girl as she made her way to the front of the land yacht and opened the side door. She lowered the three-step extension and the kittens scampered inside. She put the steps back up, got inside and locked the door. While Symphony spread herself over the couch with several kittens sitting on the back of it and looking out the window, Cera sank into the passenger seat next to Garadun, who was smiling at her.
    “So you ready for this?” he asked.
    “All my life,” she replied, matching his smile.
    “How about you, Symphony?” he called. “You ready for a drive?”
    The entire pack of kittens miaowed enthusiastically at the same time, which made Cera chuckle. “She says, YES!”
    Garadun smirked. “I figured that. Okay, first things first: test drive.”
    It was perhaps a bit anticlimactic, but he had never been behind the wheel of one of these monsters until now, and needed to get the feel of it. He drove slowly at first, gauging the balance and how the vehicle turned. He kept to the parking lot, driving around trees and the remains of dead cars. He found open stretches to test speed and breaking. Cera wasn’t complaining; she was absolutely thrilled. She was doing something she’d only ever dreamed about, and even her dreams hadn’t included the possibility of a huge recreational vehicle. Symphony kept miaowing in exhilaration and she swarmed around the entire motorhome to look out the various windows. This finally included the cockpit where she spread her numerous tiny selves over the human’s and weasel’s laps, the backs of the chairs and all over the front dash.
    After about a half-hour Garadun stopped the motorhome. “Your turn.”
    Cera stared at him. “What?”
    “You’re going to have to learn how to drive this thing, so no time like the present,” he told her affably. “This parking lot is perfect. In fact, parking lots are the traditional place for new drivers to learn without much risk of hitting anything.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Cera, you built and flew your own airship. You can handle an RV.”
    The weasel giggled. “True enough.”
    They switched places and after only a couple minutes of basic instruction they were underway. Cera hadn’t been this nervous since the first day she tested her airship. The controls were simple: steering wheel, accelerator, brake, gear changer. The motorhome had an automatic transmission of course, so it was just a matter of forward and reverse. Yet while the controls were easy, driving the bloody thing wasn’t. It was just so BIG. The sheer mass of it was daunting. But her human friend was a very supportive instructor and she was soon circling the entire mall with a good deal more confidence.
    Symphony purred constantly. She’d never had so much fun.
    Cera finally came to a halt and they switched seats again. They still had a stop to make and the city itself waited to be explored. Garadun brought the motorhome up to a speed of about 60 kph and carefully drove out of the parking lot and onto the streets of the city, retracing their route back to where Cera had downed her airship. Garadun sat behind the wheel and got the heebie-jeebies again. The past week or so in the omega mall had kept them so occupied that he’d almost forgotten the world outside. The feeling of being in an episode of Life After People returned and he was on the alert for danger.
    Kittens started growling when a couple of zombies lurched out of a side-street and wandered into the road ahead of them. Garadun’s hands first gripped the wheel tightly in alarm, and then he suddenly relaxed. Zombies, huh? Right, let’s see how they handle an eight-tonne motorhome! He pressed down on the accelerator. Cera looked at him and saw a predatory grin on his face. She started chuckling.
    “Get ‘em, Gar!”
    “Time for bonus points!” he declared with a laugh. He aimed the motorhome at his targets and ran them down with satisfying thump-thumps.
    Cera opened her window and stuck her head out. “And serve you right!”
    Symphony starting miaowing animatedly and many of her kitten selves pointed their paws. Cera closed her window and listened telepathically. She laughed.
    “She says you should drive around the city and run them all down.”
    Garadun snickered and stroked some of the kitties. “I like the way you think. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunity. But first we gotta make a stop.”
    Five or six blocks later he pulled the motorhome over to the side of the curb, stopping right in front of the building where he and Cera had met. He had gone around the block to see if there were any nearby zombies (there weren’t) and to reposition the RV so that the door was facing directly across from the building.
    “We have to get all the stuff I left in my airship,” Cera explained to the kittens. “Food, water, clothing and some other things.”
    “I’d like you to stay here, please,” Garadun added. “If you see anything coming, press down on this.” He pushed the centre of the steering wheel and the horn honked. “Think you can do that?”
    Three of the kittens climbed onto the steering wheel and pressed down with their dextrous front paws as hard as they could. The horn went off.
    “Excellent, thank you,” he said and kissed them. He and Cera grabbed their weapons, along with some nylon backpacks and pieces of luggage. They gave a last look around and then hopped out of the motorhome, locking the door. Then they hurried into the ruined skyscraper and began the tiring trek up the stairs, wary of any threats. In the motorhome, Symphony used her multiple bodies to look in four directions at once, employing the big side mirrors to watch the rear.
    Half an hour later the weasel and human returned with their first load. Her tools were put in the rear storage compartment; the clothes, food and water were deposited inside. The homemade electrolysis machine was carefully stored on the RV’s roof. Then they took a small hose and a plastic drum and returned to the top of the building. The car still had a lot of ethanol left in its gas tank and that was always useful. They had just finished siphoning it off when they heard the motorhome’s horn start honking.
    “Oh shit,” said Garadun and they hurried to the roof’s edge and looked down. Terls had come to investigate. They were swooping around the huge vehicle and a couple of them had landed on the roof.
    “Dammit.” Cera looked at the drum. “We can’t leave this behind.”
    “We won’t.” Garadun made sure the drum’s cap was screwed on good and tight, and then turned it over on its side. Cera hoisted her backpack, which was filled with the last of her things, and help him roll the drum across the roof and through the stairwell door. At the top of the stairs Garadun looked at Cera, shrugged, and rolled the drum down the steps. Given that it was made from extremely durable plastic, it bounced down the stairs without a problem and making an awful din as it went. They hurried after it to keep it under some sort of control.
    Most of the way down they had very little control.
    When the drum finally bounced off the last steps and went careening around the bottom of the stairwell, it came as a huge relief to its owners. They left the drum of ethanol and went to check on their motorhome. The terls were still there, screeching and flapping around, most of them either on the ground or on the roof of the RV. The kittens weren’t honking the horn anymore.
    “Bastards.” Cera was livid. Once again the stupid terls were making a mess of her life. She wanted to kill them but there were too many. Then a lone kitten appeared at the window to the left of the door and waved: she was on the kitchen counter.
    Symphony, can you hear me? the weasel girl projected. Unlock the door if you can. She saw the latch on the door move slightly. Good girl. Now, get ready to push it open and honk the horn when I say. Hang on.
    Cera looked at Garadun. Symphony’s unlocked the door. Let’s grab the drum and get ready to make a run for it.
    We can’t both carry it and run at the same time, he reasoned. I’ll carry it out of the building and you cover me. Okay?
    All right, I guess so.
    Cera, we need the fuel. It’ll be really handy.
    Before she could argue he hurried back across the dim interior, past the plants that were watching him and retrieved the plastic drum. It was bloody heavy. Too heavy to carry on his shoulder. He’d have to roll it out to the motorhome and hope for the best. He’d gotten a better look at the terls: they looked like three-meter barracuda with wings and bird legs. Barracuda. Great. Why couldn’t they be mutant goldfish?
    As quietly as he could, he rolled the barrel across the debris-strewn floor up to the exit where his friend waited in the shadows. He gave her his baseball bat. The motorhome was less than ten meters away but it seemed a lot further than that.
    Ready? Cera asked.
    Ready.
    Symphony, open the door! Then honk the horn as loud as you can!
    The door to the motorhome suddenly swung open and inside they could see that a big pyramid of kittens had pushed the door. The horn immediately blared, very loud, and kept on blaring in a single wail. Caught completely off-guard, the terls took to the air in fright, flapping their great wings in panic.
    The weasel girl ran down the steps, across the sidewalk and into the RV, swinging the bat at a terl as she went. Her human friend rolled the drum down the steps with both hands, trying to guide its direction, but it rolled free of his grip and bounced along until it hit the vehicle’s front wheel and rebounded along the sidewalk.
    “Sonofabitch!” Garadun hurried after it.
    Cera dropped her backpack on the floor, yelled “Push that button!” to the kittens and jumped out to help her friend. Garadun finally managed to grab the wayward plastic drum. He looked up in time to see three terls diving at him. He thrust out his hand and unleashed a telekinetic wave that was completely off-target. The fish-birds swooped down and attacked him; he ducked two of them but the third bit him on the arm, its teeth ripping deep into flesh and bone. He howled in pain.
    Then the terl did the same thing and let go when Cera hit it with a mind blast.
    “Go!” Garadun yelled, rolling the drum back to the door. Cera stayed at his side and they heaved it up and in through the door where it rolled along the floor. The human shoved the weasel inside as two terls took another pass at them. He ducked and they missed. Blood dripping from his arm, he jumped into the motorhome and Cera slammed the door closed, locking it. Kittens were all over the front seats and dashboard with three of them on the steering wheel – they still had the horn going.
    “Fuckingoddamnsonafabitch,” Garadun swore, and kittens hurried out of the way as he stumbled for the driver’s seat. He sat down to discover the engine was running. He threw it into forward and slammed on the accelerator. The RV surged forward, scattering terls, and continued to increase speed down the road. The mutant barracuda tried to chase them but were soon left behind. Garadun had to swerve around a couple of rusting cars but otherwise had the streets to himself. When he saw the terls way behind them, he slowed down enough to make a turn to the left. He made a right a couple blocks later, then another left. He pulled up in the shadow of an old bank.
    Panting, he collapsed on the steering wheel. “Dammit.”
    Kittens were all over the floor, passenger seat and dash, and they were looking at him in concern. Several pawed at him and mewed sadly.
    “It’s okay, sweetie, I’ll be fine,” he said, breathing steadily. He lifted his hand and saw it was covered with blood. He was dripping everywhere.
    “Are you all right?” Cera asked.
    “I’m making a mess is what I’m doing,” he replied, looking annoyed. He got up and took off the buckskin duster she had given him. The right sleeve was torn and stained with blood. His lower arm was covered in blood, but the flesh and bone had healed. The wonders of regeneration. He stuck his arm in one of the kitchen sinks and turned on the water to wash himself.
    “I see why you hate those damned things,” he remarked.
    “I’m sorry, Gar,” Cera told him dejectedly. “This was my fault.”
    “Don’t be silly. We needed to get your stuff and the fuel. It’s not your fault those gits showed up. Don’t worry about it.”
    “But you got hurt!”
    “And I healed.” He took his wet arm out of the sink and held it up as evidence, then grabbed a towel to dry off. “Which is thanks to you. Come on: let’s get this drum on the roof and the rest of the stuff put away.”
    Cera nodded. “All right. And thank you.”
    “No problem. Then we’ll have some breakfast. How’s that sound, Symphony?”
    The kittens miaowed hungrily and gathered en masse on the floor in front of the sofa. She was always up for another meal. Then maybe she’d go lie down on the bed and watch some TV. She’d had enough excitement for the time being.