Chapter Four
Between the wind and the pandemonium on the streets of Nelleb, Aeryn wasn't sure which way to go, so she just followed Cooley as he headed into the heart of town. They rounded a corner and saw a group of men in miner's gear coming toward them.
One of the men said, "Don't worry, Jonz and Barctum are following those off-worlders. We'll make them-" The man stopped abruptly when he saw the sheriff and his deputies. Aeryn immediately went on alert because of the murderous gleam in the stranger's eyes.
"Riele, what happened to you?" Cooley asked carefully.
The man called Riele glared at the sheriff and spit on the ground as he pulled away from his friends to stand on his own. He adjusted his cap quickly, but nothing hid the trickle of blood running down the side of his face. "Nothing that you need to know about."
Cooley's voice took on an ominous tone. "If it involves the wayfarers, it involves me. I told you last time, I'd have you thrown in jail if it happened again. Apparently, you didn't believe me, but you will now."
He gestured to two of his deputies who pointed their guns in Riele's direction. The wind whipped around them in angry waves, their invisible tide nearly strong enough to carry all of them away.
"Riele, you can come without incident and have a nice sleep over at the jail, or you can get the crap beaten out of you for resisting arrest and spend a month there. It's up to you," Cooley said, his voice rising to be heard of the wind.
The murderous look in Riele's eyes grew and he looked like he wanted to take on the sheriff's entire entourage, including Aeryn and D'Argo, but then he backed off. "I'll go...just because I want to watch you deal with my boss when he finds out you've jailed his foreman during peak production. Now, that sight might just be worth the price of sitting in your jail."
Riele glanced over to the men that had been with him. "Let Milt know what happened and that I won't be coming into work tonight." He paused, and smiled coldly as he added, "And don't forget to take care of that business we were talking about before the opportunity passes."
His men smiled in response, the kind of smile that made Aeryn's trigger finger itchy. They nodded at Riele, then they turned and went back in the direction they'd just come from, making Cooley and his people seem nervous. Something was up. Something not good. Aeryn looked at the two groups of men and tightened her grip on her pulse rifle.
Apparently, Cooley felt the same way, because he said, "Riele, don't make this any worse than it already is."
Riele just grinned from ear to ear and said, "I don't know what you are talking about."
Scratching his ear, Cooley turned to another of his deputies. "Aton, follow those men just to make sure they stay out of troub-"
Cooley's order was cut short when there was a shout from down the street. "Spread out! The Peacekeepers are here!"
Cooley looked at Riele, his men, and then to Aeryn and D'Argo, changing his previous orders. "Aton will take you to a place where you'll be out of the way. I'll send word when you can move about again."
Aton stepped forward and pointed. "This way." Then he began running.
D'Argo followed him, but Aeryn hesitated for a moment. Cooley grabbed Riele by his overalls and pulled him forward. "Come on, Riele, let's see if the Peacekeepers will be as understanding about your misguided beliefs as I have been."
He pushed him forward, leaving Aeryn standing there alone. There was another shout, and then the Peacekeeper force's vehicle began turning onto their street.
"Aeryn!" D'Argo called to her. "Now!"
Moving in D'Argo's direction, Aeryn had the distinct feeling some greater danger had been given life while they were talking. The wind was to her back, pushing her along, as if silently nudging her to follow D'Argo, whether she was ready to or not. It seemed to be a animated, wicked thing, and she knew it was stirring up more than dust. She could feel its effects working inside her own heart.
Wherever they were, she could only hope that Zhaan, Chiana, and Crichton had a secure place to ride out the Peacekeeper's visit.
oOoOoOoOo
John looked over his shoulder again. He couldn't shake the feeling they were being followed as they headed down a deserted alley.
"Hurry, John," Zhaan said, and he knew she was feeling the same type of apprehension that he was.
"I'm right behind you," he said, glancing back one more time.
It probably wasn't the wisest decision, but they had decided to head back to the transport pod, despite the Katarrah winds that made travel difficult. Anywhere else was safer than in a town occupied with Peacekeepers.
John turned his head to look back again, but he could never get a glimpse of anyone trailing behind. It's gotta be this damned wind that's got me spooked, he told himself finally.
Chiana stopped to catch her breath, bending over as she held on to a fence post, but all she did was cough. John could sympathize, the dust storm was wreaking havoc with his eyes and respiratory tract. Zhaan was faring somewhat better, but not much.
"Just a microt, Crichton," Chiana said in between gulps of air.
"We need to get out of this wind," Zhaan said, looking around as she stood with a hand to Chiana's back, but all the buildings around them were dark or boarded up. "The people inside the consortium said special equipment was needed to travel outside when the Katarrahs set in. We have nothing like that. We need to be inside."
"Yeah, I think you're right," John said, leaning against one of the buildings as he forced himself to not cradle his shoulder like he wanted to.
He shivered from the cold, and then grunted from the way his shoulder reacted to the movement. Temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since we've been outside.
Making a deliberate act of releasing his hold of his injured arm, he walked back to where Zhaan was standing in the street, and spoke loudly in order to be heard over the howling wind, "Maybe we can break into one of the buildings for shelter."
"What about heading back to the consortium?" Zhaan suggested.
John shook his head. "Not enough time. Just look how bad it's gotten since we left. We'd never make it back in time."
Zhaan nodded. John started toward a nearby bakery, figuring it wouldn't have many high security features when he heard an angry shout from across the street. When he turned, he saw some men standing in the shadows, as if they'd followed them from the incident in the street, and his hand automatically went to his pulse pistol.
"Eat this, freak lovers!"
"Ah, crap," he whispered as he watched something shoot in the air toward them, probably some type of hand grenade. Whatever it was, John knew it couldn't be good. He turned to the women with him, waving them away. "Hit the deck!"
He went to dive behind some steps, but didn't move fast enough. The resulting explosion caught him in midair and threw him against the wall of the bakery and he slid to the ground, unconscious.
With a horn blasting and flashing lights, a small transport pulled up beside them from a side street. Inside was a woman with a boy.
"Hurry, get inside!" the woman said, watching the direction the explosion had come from. "Jairme, help them."
The boy called Jairme got out as Zhaan looked to Chiana who was just pulling herself up. Chiana was bleeding from one ear and she looked disoriented, but at least she was moving, unlike Crichton. Zhaan went to stand and gasped. When she followed the pain, she saw her leg bleeding. Luckily, it didn't look too serious and Zhaan was more worried about Crichton, so she forced herself forward.
Once she was at John's side, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Crichton was unconscious and bleeding from several cuts and abrasions. He didn't look good at all, but she had no time to examine him. The next thing she knew the boy was at her side, urging her along. "Come on, we don't have much time. I'll get one arm and you get the other."
Jairme reached for John's left arm and stopped, his mouth dropping open. He glanced up at Zhaan. "Look at his arm...that weird angle, it's got to be busted."
She moved without thinking, picking up a small piece of wood in the road as she took off her belt. A few quick wraps and at least John's arm was immobilized for the moment. The boy looked up at her. "I'll try to be careful with him, but who know what is busted..."
Zhaan was forced to agree, though the thought of other injuries didn't help her uneasiness. She nodded. "Just be as gentle as possible."
Another blast went off, rocking the boy's mother's hovercraft. "You tell those guys to be gentle first." He sighed and reached for John again. "Let's move."
There was more shouts that drew Zhaan's attention. When she looked up, the street seemed to be filling with people, despite the rising winds. "Come on! We've got to go now!" the woman shouted from the pilot's seat.
Chiana rushed over. Between the three of them, they got John into the back seat of the hovercraft, and then Jairme moved up front while Chiana and Zhaan joined John in the back. A second later, the woman gunned the power and took off just as another explosive went off where they'd been parked.
Zhaan tried to tend to Crichton, but the darkness inside the vehicle and its lurching movements made it impossible to do more than check John's pulse and respiration. His heart rate was racing and his respiration was fast and shallow. To make matters worse, his skin was cold and sweaty, which wasn't a good sign. He was still unconscious and none of their jostling had caused any sign of reaction, which with his broken arm, should have caused considerable pain.
"How is he, Zhaan?" Chiana asked, her speech still sluggish and Zhaan suspected the young woman had sustained a concussion.
"I don't know. He's got a broken arm. Other than that, and the fact that I've detected his pulse and respiration, I don't know much else."
Chiana's hand reached out in the limited illumination from the front control panel and found Zhaan's as it rested on John's forehead. She squeezed, and put her head on Zhaan's shoulder. Zhaan leaned into Chiana's embrace and whispered, "It's okay, child, we'll be all right."
Chiana raised her head to look at Zhaan. "What about you? Were you hurt?"
"No, not badly. What about you?"
Chiana smirked. "My ears are still ringing, but I think I'm okay."
Zhaan knew better but didn't press her on the matter. The condition of John's arm concerned her. She felt along John's broken limb. It was a bad break and it was bleeding, so either there was a cut or shrapnel from the explosion or it was a compound fracture.
With John's leather jacket, it was hard to tell. Unable to do anything more, she closed her eyes and began to pray when the woman at the front of the craft spoke, "We will catch up to our caravan in about an arn, God willing. Once there, we have people trained in the healing arts who can look at your friend."
"Ma," Jairme said, "Why did they attack him?"
The woman caught Zhaan's gaze in one of her mirrors. "Because he tried to help one of our kind, and that is why we couldn't ignore him when we saw his group was in trouble."
"We are grateful for your help," Zhaan said quietly.
"It is only because we were delayed in getting our supplies that we were even there. When everything went crazy after the blasts began, I didn't think we'd get the supplies we needed to make it to Aserraki, which is four days out, but Danifa must have interceded for all of us, because we were the last customer before they shut down, and that put us here at the right time."
She looked again at Zhaan. "I am afraid there will be no way to turn back. You will have to go to Aserraki with us. We can drop you off on our return trip, unless you can arrange for transportation on your own."
Chiana nodded. "We have people who can pick us up once the windstorm dies down. Until then, we can't contact them."
Zhaan rubbed her hands together, disturbed by the blood on them. She needed to know how much blood John was losing. "Chiana, reach into my bag. I have a small flashlight there."
Chiana did as requested, but nearly dropped it when the meager light showed significant blood loss. "Wh-what do we do?"
Zhaan forced her voice to sound as steady as she could as she took off her wrap to make a tourniquet. "We pray. Help me to remove his jacket."
From the front seat, she heard two prayers begin. As she worked, she added her own. From the look of things, John was going to need every one of them.
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Chapter 4