Ailie looked back at her with the eyes and face of a child, her expression serene and nonjudgmental. Then she began moving through piles of junk toward the back of the complex. Angel hesitated, and then followed. She had come this far, after all.
When they were almost to the very rear of the complex, the tatterdemalion turned down a long row of emptied-out units and wove her way through the scattered contents until she reached the end unit. Like the others, the doors of this one stood open, locks broken and contents rifled. Angel glanced at Ailie questioningly. The tatterdemalion gave her a quick smile, then moved inside the unit to the very back wall, where a scattering of empty boxes lay piled up.
“Look, Angel,” she said, pointing.
Angel peered into the gloom. She didn’t see anything. Ailie beckoned her closer, gave a quick hand motion that illuminated the lower left corner of the wall, and now Angel saw a block lock set into the concrete of the floor, securing the wall in place. A door, Angel realized, disguised as a wall.
Ailie smiled, moved over to the lock, and reached down and touched it.
Instantly the lock clicked open and fell away. Ailie made another quick motion, and the entire wall slid up into a concealed compartment.
Angel peered inside and caught her breath. Two hulking, cloth-draped machines sat back in the shadows, one much bigger than the other, the wheels of each just visible where the coverings failed to reach the floor.
Angel walked over, pulled off the coverings, and stepped back.
She was looking at a pair of triwheel ATVs. Big, sleek machines, they were capable of travel over any terrain and could reach speeds of sixty miles an hour on an open road. The smaller was a Mercury 5 series, the larger a Harley Crawler, either a Flex or Sim model. The Mercury was the quicker and more maneuverable of the two, the Harley the more indestructible. She hadn’t seen either since her early days with Johnny.
“How did you find these?” she asked.
Ailie gave a small shrug. “We needed a way to travel north, and I looked until I found these. An owner who never came back for them hid them behind this false wall. They still have their power packs.”
Angel walked over to the machines and checked the engine bays.
Sure enough, the heavy fuel cells were set in place, charged and ready for use. Three cells for each machine. Either one would take her a long way.
“Which do you want?” Ailie was smiling, her child’s face mirroring an unexpected excitement. “I want to know how it feels to ride one.”
Angel thought about it a moment, then walked over to the Mercury.
Speed and agility. Better mileage for the cells because it was the lighter machine.
“This one.”
She took removed the power cells from the Harley and hid them beneath a pile of debris several storage units down. She had learned never to leave behind anything an enemy might use against you. Then she wheeled the Mercury out into the open, inserted the first of the power cells, and fired it up. The engine caught instantly, emitting a sound that she thought might resemble the growl of a big cat. She climbed astride the padded seat and waited for Ailie to climb up behind her. She knew what to do. Johnny had taught her.
“Which way?” she asked.
Ailie pointed north up the paved crossroad.
Angel wheeled the Mercury through the debris of the storage yard and out the crumpled gates. As she reached the road, she caught sight of a figure standing back in the shadows to one side, underneath a massive old redwood. She peered at it intently, but the figure disappeared, and she found herself looking at a mailbox on a stake. She blinked, wondering what she had seen—wondering if she had been mistaken—and a memory of an earlier time abruptly resurfaced.
*
SHE IS LIVING on the streets of Los Angeles, still making her home in the barrio. Johnny has been dead three years now, and she is no longer a child. She is a young woman—much stronger and smarter, much more experienced.
She has been tested many times since Johnny taught her how to defend herself, and his lessons have saved her each time. All who live in the neighborhood she calls her own know her by now; she is the one they look to for leadership and protection. She is feared and respected; she is a force to be reckoned with.
She walks the streets when she chooses, but never in a set pattern.
She goes out both day and night, a soldier on patrol. Even the mutants keep their distance from her. They are not afraid of her; they are simply unwilling to put themselves in her path. The arrangement is simple; she leaves them alone and they leave her alone. A few, a reckless few, will test her limits from time to time. They will attack her people; they will pillage her stores. The results are always the same. She tracks them down and disposes of them.