Chapter Six; The Tediousness in the Transit

The day was hot and long. Dust and sand stuck to everything, including the rim of the few water bottles they had managed to scavenge from cars and abandoned buildings that they passed.

It was a bleak landscape. While route 93 had once been an interstate highway, the road was now cracked, and nature had begun to claim back the uninhabited areas with a speed that was akin to something out of a disaster movie, rather than what Shepard thought was entirely natural. The concrete barriers that had once protected cars from driving off the edge of the road sat worn and crumbling, protecting nothing from the gusts of wind and the one-hundred-and-fifty-foot drop onto the valley floor below.

Shepard stuck his head over the edge to examine the area below. Greenery was creeping back across the bridge stilts and was claiming back the once worked riverbank.

The Connecticut River had long been a reliable source of water for the local populous, sustaining tribes such as the Western Niantic, Tunxis and Pequots since before the turn of the 17th Century. In the earlier part of the sixteen hundreds, the Dutch had settled the area and set it up for Puritan settlers in the latter half of the century. By the later nineteen hundreds, the area was primarily used for log drives and then to supply the greater Massachusetts' area with water when the Swift River was diverted to the Quabbin Reservoir. By the mid-twentieth century, the river had become a key point of trade between Canada, and the lower settlements of Rhode Island. Similarly, due to its ability to sustain both agriculture and fishing, as well as supplying clean drinking water, the area around the mid-river had been colonised by groups who wanted to remain 'off-the-grid'. Several of these groups had become known to the SPECTR's when a group of tech-phobic individuals had planned to bomb local network hives in an attempt to bring down the local system.

Shepard marvelled at the speed in which the river had reclaimed the surrounding land. Although the recent local population had shunned technology, preferring to work with older materials such as plastic and wood, they had left a wake of devastation behind them. From deforestation to water pollution, leaving rubbish to failed crops, the groups had left their marks quite clearly on the land. They had been recruited to local militia when the war broke out, many of them now residing in some forgotten field or street. The few who survived chose to either move north into Canada and Pittsburgh, or South into New Hampshire and the rest of the continental United States. Incidentally, this was the decision that would soon face Shepard and Dr Josephs.

"This settlement," Shepard said, his head still sticking out over the edge of the old road rampart, "What kind of vibe are we dealing with?"

Rachel laughed, a short huff that portrayed a disgust born of contempt.

"I take it you didn't see eye to eye?"

"We had to deal with them on the odd occasion. They needed medical supplies, but I wouldn't have worked with them out of choice." Rachel looked out to the horizon, towards the shallow lights just visible against the grey evening sky. She sighed before continuing. "They set up shop at the convergence of a couple of different trading routes and the river when the war ended. They drew desperate people as the only habitable place between Pittsburgh and the border with Canada. They took advantage."

Rachel stood, the wind blowing her hair as she watched the Sun move closer to the horizon.

"We should find somewhere to hole up for the night. There is still the odd pirate and fringe member who would see two people out in the middle of nowhere and assume they were weak and helpless."

Shepard snorted at that assessment.

"I don't think I could define you weak or helpless," Shepard responded.

"Yes, well, you've been lucky. Lucky enough to be sharing the pride of the Alliance fleet with some of the best men and women in their fields. Weak and helpless were apt descriptors for a lot of people after the Reapers fell to Earth."

Shepard responded to that with silence.

"Come on," Rachel continued, "We can either try our luck for some shelter in the remnants of Morrisville, or there's a two-hour hike up to the refugee camp at Johnson."

Shepard perked up at that.

"Will there be transport from Johnson?"

Rachel looked towards the lights beginning to wink into life to the North.

"Unlikely. A lot of the camps get random supply drops without much scheduling. There's no way to know when the next one would be. We might be lucky and get some warm food." She hesitated, "But there will be more questions. About what happened to you. What your plans are." She paused again, "What you did."

Shepard sighed. He had known, from the moment he woke up in that Plastic Surgery Hospital come emergency Alliance Med Centre, that there would be a day when he had to answer for the choices he had made during the Reaper War. Hell, he might even still have to answer for the decisions he made in the Bahak System. Shepard looked towards the lights to the north before turning south and heading into Morrisville.

Morrisville hadn't been a big or prosperous town in the early parts of the 21st Century, and not a lot had changed in the intervening years. Shepard imagined it was a place that had a lot of wide-eyed kids hoping to move out to the 'big city' but only ever managing to become assistant manager at the local hardware store.

Now, however, it was a wreck. Bits of rubble and debris lay across the main street running through the limited downtown area. Smashed windows, for sale signs, and old, petrol chugging trucks missing wheels were the street decor. It looked like it had been one of the early settlements to empty during the start of the war.

The pair crunched into what once must have been a main thoroughfare, or meeting point, or at one time, could have been an old hovercar park, but now lay abandoned. Most of the buildings where dilapidated, but none showed signs of bombing or gunfire until they reached the old cineplex.

From the front, it looked normal; peeling red and blue paint, adverts and times for long-forgotten sequels including Blasto 12: Die Harder with a Vengeance, Part 2.

Around the corner, however, there were the remnants of a crashed Reaper.

Shepard held the rifle up as he walked slowly towards the husk of the now-defunct Reaper. It was small, small even for a Destroyer, but still towered over him and the surrounding buildings. Its shell lay cracked, and its limbs lay at odd angles.

Moving closer, Shepard gave the edge of the metallic plate nearest to him a solid kick. The sound reverberated throughout the creature, hanging in the air, unnaturally loud.

There was the sound of smashing glass. Shepard whirled around to see Rachel crouched with her gun out, pointing in the direction of the noise. The sun was beginning to set now, lengthening and thickening shadows so that they poured like molasses from the side of buildings.

Time seemed to slow as Shepard gazed at the two storefronts opposite. With only six windows between them, it was easy to find the culprit.

Sitting on the sill was the world's ugliest cat. Mashed in nose, belly swollen with worms, half of one ear missing. Shepard blanched at the idea of what it must have been living off for the last few months but lowered his gun as his eyes met Rachel's.

"Come on," Shepard said, gesturing to the door of the cineplex. "We might get lucky and find some very out of date, very stale, but ultimately edible popcorn."

Rachel holstered her gun, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes before following Shepard into the building.

It had an old-timey feel, with art deco accents around the lights and stairs leading up to what once must have been the ticket hall. Shepard flicked the light on his merc suit and started rummaging around in the concession stands.

Rachel, meanwhile, had wandered over to the only single door on the floor, with the words "Office: Authorized Personnel Only" written in fading gold letters directly on the glass.

She twisted the handle and was pleasantly surprised when it gave, allowing her to open the room.

"A-HA!" Shouted Shepard, with clear excitement and glee. Rachel turned back to look at him and raised an eyebrow at the child-like look of wonder on Shepard's face. "Not 100% sure they are in date, and they will probably kill us, but who cares, it's chocolate. Here, catch." And with only that word of warning, Shepard threw a bag of something that rattled as it flew through the air towards her, before returning to his rummaging.

"M&M's, Shepard? Really?"

Shepard looked up and met Rachel's eyes. The grin that had plastered his face not slipping when his brain processed the red hair and hazel eyes, but the brightness of it fading slightly and his eyes losing some of their openness and depth.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, hoping to deflect the obvious change in mood, before returning turning to the office door.

Inside was a desk, a leather looking couch, an old terminal system, and piles of holopads, some flickering in a vain attempt to stay lit.

"Looks good enough," said Shepard, peering into the room around Rachel, his arms full with sugary snacks and very flat soda drinks. "Here," he said, handing Rachel something that looked and smelt a little bit like cola, but tasted more like non-carbonated cardboard.

"Urgh. This is revolting" Rachel said with a grimace.

"Yep." Replied Shepard, "But it's this or the posh pink lemonade that's turned green. At least the Malteasers are still pretty good." With that, Shepard threw a handful of the candy into his mouth, and by the sounds of it, broke a tooth on their staleness. "Okay. I take it back," he said, rubbing his jaw. "I'll take first watch if you want to camp out on the sofa."

Rachel searched around the rest of the office and managed to find a very lumpy and lopsided pillow and an old, moth-eaten blanket on the chair behind the desk. Shepard began moving the holopads that still had some life in them and placed them around the room as warm, orange-hued lights, before moving the desk chair to the door, shutting off his flashlight, and settling down for the first few hours watch.

The whole place was quiet, with only the faint glow of the few remaining holopads lighting up the room, and as Shepard watched, Dr Joesephs blinked twice and then fell into a deep slumber.