Lyric slept well. The desert cooled off considerably at night, and she opened her bedroom window to let the fresh air in. It smelled crisp and clean. Much better than the heavily polluted air in New Cali.
The sun was clearing the mountains as she climbed out of bed, and she took a closer look at her new pad. It had a compact kitchen with a dining area, a big bathroom, and a comfortable living room that featured vaulted ceilings. The only thing missing was a sound system. A devoted audiophile, she’d made sure to bring a flash drive with a collection of her favorite recordings. Maybe Harmony could help her come up with a component set.
She looked out the living room window and saw a pair of workers painting a house on the other side of the street. A woman brushed caramel colored stain on the eaves while a man spotted the extension ladder she was standing on. They started early to beat the mid-day heat.
She checked the kitchen cabinets to see if she could find coffee or tea, but they were mostly empty except for pots and pans. She returned to the window in time to see Harmony rounding the corner on her ATV. Lyric opened the front door and strolled out to greet her new friend. “Hi Harmony!”
“Morning, Lyric,” said Harmony as she pulled off her helmet. “I brought some food and a couple of other things to stock your kitchen.”
“I could use a dose of caffeine.”
“I brought tea.”
“Do you grow it on your farm?”
“Not yet. It comes in on a transport.” She opened the storage compartment on her ATV. Inside it sat two crates packed with food.
Harmony picked up one of the crates and Lyric grabbed the other. They set them down on a countertop inside. Harmony made tea while Lyric found places to store the various items. She smiled when she opened the refrigerator door. It was bigger than the tired relic she’d shared with Joyce in New Cali. And it looked almost brand new. Hodgett’s scavenger crew had a knack at finding nice stuff in the deserted city.
“You brought fresh eggs!”
“Yup. We have plenty of chickens.”
Lyric found a frying pan in a cupboard. “You want me to cook you a couple?”
“I already ate…But go ahead and make yourself breakfast while we talk.” Harmony sat down at the dining table with her cup of tea.
Lyric turned on the stove, dropped a pat of butter in the frying pan, and cracked two eggs. They were odd sizes and had brown speckled shells. “So how long have you been golf course farmers?”
“Ever since the collapse. Myles and I grew up here in the valley.”
“Logan too?”
“Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Before things went south, I managed sales at a ladies’ fashion boutique and Myles was a heavy equipment operator.”
“And Logan worked at the power station?”
“He did.”
“I didn’t have a chance to ask him much about it. The power company is still in business, then?”
“No. Everything went to hell in a few weeks when New Cali shut off the water in the pipeline. When the power company laid off all their help, Logan told his boss he thought he could keep the station running with Jody and no one tried to stop him.”
Lyric found a toaster and dropped two slices of Harmony’s homemade bread in the slots. When it was done, she made a fried egg sandwich. She sat down next to her new friend to eat. “So, most of the people left town when the economy collapsed?”
“Things had already been getting bad because of the drought. The water restrictions destroyed the tourist industry. They couldn’t keep the golf courses watered and the fountains going at the casinos, and the people stopped coming. When the banks went under, the first thing New Cali did was shut off our water allotment by outbidding us. That was the last straw because the aquifer was already getting low and there wasn’t enough to go around.”
Harmony took a sip of tea and continued: “The city government is gone. There’s no law enforcement whatsoever. No one in the federal bureaucracy makes it out here anymore, so we need to be extra careful. When you’re outside of the fencelines, stay aware because we get scummy dust bikers snooping around occasionally.
“Myles and Logan brought workers in from the coast to help us build more farms. They were treated badly at the Eden Stacks, and we’re giving them a new start. We’re having a meeting this morning to talk to the newcomers about the business end. You can come along with me if you want, Lyric.”
“I’d love to.”
“You’ll have a good income from the security escort job, so a lot of what we’ll talk about won’t apply to you. Myles won’t ask you to join one of the collectives. You’ll be doing your own thing, but if you get bored during the downtime, I can find stuff to keep you busy on our farm.”
“That sounds perfect, Harmony, and thanks again for everything.”
□□□
The meeting with the former grubs took place in a conference room at the clubhouse. It had auditorium style seating and when Lyric and Harmony arrived, the refugees were filing in and taking seats. The first five sat together in the front row. Harmony took a seat next to Sam and Lyric took the seat to her right.
Myles propped a map up on an easel at the front of the room. The valley’s abandoned golf courses were highlighted in bright green. He walked to the lectern. “Good morning, everyone. I called this meeting to discuss the new farms and answer questions. Harmony and I built the first farm on our own following the economic collapse. It wasn’t easy. We put in long hours, seven days a week, but the hard work paid off. Today, we make a good living supplying other survivors with food and selling the bulk of what we produce to New Cali.”
He stepped over to the map he’d set up. “This is our farm,” he said, pointing it out on the map. “The second golf course, where most of you are currently housed, is right here. As you can see, there are several other golf courses nearby, and all are ripe for development. The first five refugees, led by Sam Frashier, have formed a collective to build and farm the second property. They will each receive equal shares of the profits when the various products are sold. But that doesn’t mean the rest of you need to manage things the same way. You can go about it however you choose. If four or five of you want to form another collective and do it the same way that will work. Or you could choose a leader who runs things and pays the others by the hour. It’s up to you.”
A man named Jim raised his hand. “I have a question, Myles.”
“What’s the question?”
“Why can’t you pay us by the hour to begin with? It’ll take a while to build the farms and you’re asking us to work for free in the meantime.”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything, Jim. I thought I made that clear at the Eden Stacks. I’m simply giving you the opportunity to do something Harmony and I have already accomplished. Turning an abandoned golf course into a productive farm that will make you money in the long run. And we didn’t have anyone feeding us or lending a helping hand, we did it on our own.”
“But you’ll be at the top of the pyramid.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“When you market the food we produce, you’ll be making money on it, right?”
“We’ll take a small percentage, and so will Stanislav’s sales manager. That’s how any business works.”
“Because you don’t work for free, right Myles?”
Myles began to lose his patience. “Harmony and I don’t have the resources to pay you wages to build the farms. We’d go broke in a few weeks. We’re already putting a lot of money out on materials to refurbish the houses. Besides that, the property will be yours when it’s finished.
A woman named Doris sat next to Jim, and she spoke up next: “You have agribots doing most of the work on your farm. Will you supply us with agribots?”
“That’s something you’ll need to come up with on your own because of the expense involved. We can supply you with excavation equipment and tools, but I never said it would be a walk in the park.”
“Sounds like you’re taking us for a ride,” said Jim. “Like you’re starting some kind of crooked work farm based on promises of good money we’ll never see.”
Myles had enough. “If any of you are unhappy here, I’ll arrange free transportation to New Cali. Just say the word. Stanislav will put you on a commercial transport and you’ll be back on the coast in a few hours.”
“And what are we supposed to do in New Cali?”
“Anything you want, Jim. I’m not your babysitter.”
By the time the meeting had concluded, Jim and Doris said they wanted to drop out and take the free ride to New Cali. Myles didn’t anticipate the dissent. He also didn’t think any of them would give up so easily. But apparently, Jim and Doris had become so accustomed to the Eden Stacks regimentation, they’d lost their ambition. The lack of trust was unexpected and disappointing for Myles.
□□□
The transport they boarded couldn’t take the two dropouts all the way into New Cali proper. The trucks had to clear a Tommy Cop check station, so they needed to get out in Nowhere City.
Maybe they should have just accepted their dead-end lives in the Eden Stacks. That’s what Doris thought as she gazed at the crime-ridden shanty town they’d been dropped off in. Or stayed in the Big Abandonado and become golf course farmers.
Doris stood with Jim as she watched the transport drive off. “So, what do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” responded Jim. “But at least we’re not working for nuthin’.”
They could see the Wall in the distance and began walking towards it. The dilapidated boulevard was littered with trash and densely populated. Most of the people in the slums were desties, the long term unemployed who’d been replaced by automation. They lived in crudely constructed makeshift shacks. Desties with dirt-stained faces gazed at them warily as they hoofed it towards the Wall. A revolting odor laid heavy on the breeze, the acrid smell of trash fires mixed with the stench of open latrines.
Jim and Doris reached a crossing, a heavily guarded passage through the Wall. A line of transports were queued up, waiting to clear inspection and pass into New Cali. The pair tried to sneak across the border by zig-zagging between the trucks, but they were quickly spotted by a Tommy Cop.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“New Cali,” responded Jim.
“You’ll need to fill out an application. Report to the border station.”
Another Tommy Cop walked up. “What’s going on here, Joe?”
“I found these two desties trying to sneak into town.”
“We’re not desties,” said Doris.
“Uh huh,” said the second Tommy Cop looking them over with disdain. “May I see your identification?”
“We don’t have identification. We’re refugees from Mellowbreak Beach.”
“Sure you are,” said the Tommy Cop named Joe. “Go back to your hovel. You’ll be happier there.”
Filling out the application would be a waste of time because they lacked ID, so Jim and Doris turned around and wandered back into Nowhere City. The sun was setting and they didn’t know what to do next. They hadn’t eaten all day. They saw a dilapidated building that people were going in and out of, and they thought it might be a place to find food. When they walked closer, they realized it was an illicit liquor distillery where desties were buying bootleg booze.
They sat down on a big chunk of broken concrete nearby. It would be dark soon and Jim thought it might be a good place to sit out the night because of the lights illuminating the distillery.
A trio of dust bikers were hanging out in front of the place acting as bouncers. When they noticed Jim and Doris hadn’t moved for a while, they walked over to hassle them.
“Hey, what are you two doing here?” said the rough looking leader, Slim Crumpacker. His sidekicks, Zero and Trash, stood on either side of him, glaring at the refugees. All three wore heavy clothing coated with dust and grease, and they smelled bad too.
Jim looked up at him. “Is there a law against sitting here?”
“This is our turf. You need Nowhere City Serpent permission.”
“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” said Doris. “Can we have permission to sit here for a while?”
“Why don’t you have any place to go?”
“We just got here a few hours ago,” responded Jim.
“Where are you from?
“It’s a long story. We lived in Mellowbreak Beach until the Guardians of the Perpetual Sunrise bulldozed our houses.”
Crumpacker laughed. “Sounds like a raw deal…So you two looking to make some scratch?”
“Doing what?”
“I need someone to make a delivery.”
“A delivery of what?”
“A load of syntho-bliss to the east end.”
“Where’s that?”
“That way,” responded Crumpacker, pointing a dirty finger towards the east. “Other end of the basin.”
“We don’t have a car.”
“Trash will supply you with wheels.” He gestured at the dust biker to his right with his thumb.
“I don’t know,” said Doris to Jim. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Yeah, but what else are we going to do?”
“What if we get stopped by the police?”
“Ain’t no police in Nowhere City,” said Crumpacker. “Anyone gets in your face, tell them you’re riding with the Serpents and they’ll back off.”
Trash walked away, and a few minutes later, returned in a beat-up old gasoline powered sedan. It had a loud exhaust leak and was burning oil, but Crumpacker said it would make it. He said the syntho-bliss was locked in the trunk, and he didn’t give Jim a key. Instead, he handed him a crudely drawn map showing them how to reach a Nowhere City Serpent hangout on the east end of the basin.
“When you get there, you need to talk to Bruno. And just so you know, if you try to take off with the dope, I’ll have Zero and Trash track you down and beat the crap out of both of you.”
Jim took the wheel, and they set out for the east end on the remains of a six-lane freeway. It was in miserable condition and slow going. No streetlamps and the car had a weak alternator, so the headlights were dim. It took them almost two hours to make the drive. They were stunned by the size of Nowhere City. The shanty towns along the roadway seemed endless though not quite as dense as they were closer to the Wall.
“This is scary,” said Doris. “How much are they paying us, anyway?”
“I’m not sure. I forgot to ask.”
They encountered places where the overpasses had collapsed, and they needed to take detours. The roadways were loaded with debris, and Jim carefully avoided destie encampments that were built along the crumbling freeway. The car smoked badly and the exhaust leak was loud enough to give Doris a headache.
Finally, they made it to the east end of the basin. They followed Crumpacker’s directions and found the broken down remains of a split-level house with the windows boarded up. A dust biker named Glueball came to the door when Jim rang the doorbell, and they walked inside. Lanterns illuminated the interior. It had beat-up furniture and a repulsive stench. Bruno sat in a recliner smoking a cigar. Darcy was asleep on a crappy sofa, snoring loudly.
“We brought you the snytho-bliss,” said Jim. “It’s in the trunk.”
Bruno laughed heartily. “Ain’t no syntho-bliss in the trunk. Slim was fucking with you.”
“Huh?” Jim looked confused. “So how much you paying us?”
“Paying you for what? Driving a beater over here from the Wall?”
“Then why did he ask us to drive it here?” said Doris.
“It’s a loaner car. Trash borrowed it yesterday.”
“So, what are we supposed to do now?” said Jim.
“I don’t know,” said Bruno. “Do I look like your fucking mother?”
□□□
Chance Cribley didn’t attend the meeting at the clubhouse. Though he had a room in one of the refurbished houses, he made himself scarce in the daylight hours. He was afraid someone might ask him to do some manual labor. The infrequent security escort gig was plenty of responsibility for Cribley, and it was okay with Myles and Harmony if that was all he did. Some people weren’t cut out to be farmers. Jim and Doris were proof of that.
Cousin Zyler didn’t mind him coming by the shop now that he had a job and a place to stay. He could send him over to Latsko’s compound to pick up deliveries when they came in on the transports.
Cribley spent much of his free time hunting rattlesnakes. They were prolific around the abandoned buildings because of the large population of rodents. He used snares to capture them and then brought the reptiles back to Zyler’s compound where he skinned them. He saved the hides because they could be made into exotic boots or jackets. The meat was seasoned with spices and cooked in Zyler’s smoker.
Logan had business to discuss with Zyler. He pulled the echo-pulse cruiser into the compound and parked outside an open bay where the mechanic was working. Nearby, Cribley had the smoker stoked up with chips of hardwood imported from the northlands.
“Hey Zyler,” said Logan as he walked into the shaded bay. A swamp cooler on the roof delivered a stream of cool air.
“What’s up?” responded the mechanic.
Cribley walked over to stand by the open door and eavesdrop on the conversation.
“I have a new project for you. I hired another security escort, and I’d like you to put a motorcycle together for her.”
“For her?” said Cribley interrupting.
“Yeah, that’s right, Chance. Her name’s Lyric Tyne.”
“What’s she look like?”
“Oh, about this tall,” said Logan holding his hand out. “Blue eyes, blonde hair.”
“So, you’re doing her?”
“No, I’m not doing her, Chance, and you’re not going to give her a hard time either.”
“How do you know the bitch can hold up her end of things when we’re out on the road?”
“Because she’s a certified bad ass, not a bitch, and no concern of yours.”
“Hey, Chance,” said Zyler. “Why don’t you go make sure your snake meat isn’t burning and let me and Logan discuss business.”
Cribley stalked off towards the smoker.
“Anyway,” said Logan, “I’d like you to build a custom motorcycle with everything that Chance’s has. The armored fairings, coil guns, air rams, the whole nine yards.”
“That’ll cost you some dinero.”
“Whatever it takes. The sooner the better and I’ll pay you in gold.”
“That’s a deal. I’ll get in touch with Stanislav and order the parts.”
“And Zyler? If you can make it go faster than Chance’s bike, the extra expense is not an issue.”
Zyler chuckled. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.” He held out his hand and they shook on it.
Logan didn’t know if the security escort job would work out for Lyric, but he didn’t mind spending the money. Having another vehicle would be an advantage, and he was optimistic she would like the gig.
Lyric had personality and intelligence, and he’d felt an instant attraction when he met her at the gate. Did she feel the same way about him? Something told him she did, but he put the possibility of romance on the back burner. He’d work on developing a friendship with her first. Before he even thought about anything more. Past experience told him to take his time and not jump the gun. She’d been through a lot, and he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
The parts for the new motorcycle arrived within a few days, and Zyler set to work putting it together. Before the week was out, he called and said the new bike was ready to go. Logan drove his echo-pulse cruiser to Lyric’s place. After inviting him in, she showed him the audio system that Hodgett’s scavenger crew had brought her.
“What kind of music do you like?” she asked him.
“Pretty much anything, I’m not real picky.”
“I brought a flash drive with all kinds of stuff.” She selected a track, made eye contact, and smiled when it came on. “I like old rock music better than the new AI pop.”
“Me too.” Logan took a sip from the glass of iced tea she’d handed him. “Stanislav Latsko has a super nice sound system.”
“I’ve heard a lot about him from Harmony.”
“He’s big on symphony orchestra music.”
“Yeah, that’s what Harmony said too.”
“I’ll take you over there to meet him some time if you want, and you can check out his system.”
“I’d like that.”
They drove to Zyler’s shop to pick up the new motorcycle. After they arrived, he went over the machine’s features with the pair. The finished product was similar to Cribley’s bike but sleeker and lighter in weight. The hydrogen fueled motor had more displacement too, meaning it was faster.
Beyond the coil guns, Zyler had also equipped it with a plasma channel lightning gun. The weapon used the same technology as a handheld directed laser pistol, but it was mounted on the bike’s front end and powered with more juice. The payload was like a guided lightning bolt. Devastating accuracy, and it could disable any device that relied on an electrical charge to work. It could also electrocute bad actors. The weapon was operated by a hands-free omni-directional targeting system that the rider could activate with voice commands and eyesight.
Lyric was delighted, not only by the features on the new machine but also because Logan and Zyler had built it with her in mind. What an awesome crew of new friends she’d found!
Cribley feigned disinterest. He made a point of ignoring Lyric with a disgusted look on his face, and he wandered over to the smoker to fiddle around with the rattlesnake skins he’d hung up to dry in the sun.
“We should take it over to the track for a test drive,” said Zyler. “Make sure everything’s working right before you go.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Logan. “In case it needs fine tuning.”
“Why don’t you ride over to the track with us, Chance,” called out Zyler. “Bring your bike and we’ll see how they match up in a sprint.”
“Yeah, okay,” he responded without taking his eyes off his snake skins.
There was an abandoned racetrack nearby. The pavement was still in fair condition, and Zyler kept it swept clear of dust so he could use it to try out his projects. The four of them traveled over there with Zyler riding shotgun in the echo-pulse cruiser and Lyric and Cribley on their bikes.
After they arrived at the track, Zyler had Lyric and Cribley queue up adjacent to each other on a straightaway. He held his hand high in the air, and when he dropped it, both riders took off. Cribley was more accustomed to his machine, and pulled ahead at first, but once Lyric attained momentum and the bike’s transmission started going through the gears, she sprinted into the lead and quickly left Cribley behind.
“Yeah!” exclaimed Logan. “Look at her go!”
“Fastest bike I ever built,” said Zyler grinning, as they watched her zip through the first set of curves.
“That girl can ride a motorcycle!” Logan was ecstatic.
The next day, Logan and Myles filled the tankers and made preparations for the final delivery to the Eden Stacks. Myles said the remaining refugees would be enough to build four or five additional farms, and he’d decided not to recruit any more. That was a relief for Logan. The last delivery needed to be a smooth one, and his plan called for not telling Waverly they were blowing her off until they were paid up and gone.