They were many large farms’ answer to home sprinkler systems. Only instead of a small sprinkler head that popped up at the corners of a lawn and spit out a bit of water once a day, this was a massive object that stretched half the length of a field and resembled nothing so much as the desiccated spine of some strange beast.
The irrigation system was a huge pipe, suspended by wheels soldered to it in an A-frame every eighty to one hundred feet along its length. In between the wheels, sprinkler hoses dangled. The whole thing was connected at the center of the field to a turbine that turned it on a center axis, allowing it to travel around the field, watering the entirety of it in a grand circle over the course of hours or days, depending on the speed of the motor and settings. Most got water from wells that pumped from the underground rivers that flowed beneath the Gem State.
The rushing noise of the huge pipe increased as the water rushed along its length. The wheels turned. The gaunt construction moved, its far length held fast by the pivot as though it were playing the world’s slowest game of crack-the-whip.
The sprinklers spewed water in a white torrent that mixed with the already-falling rain. Ken felt momentarily bad for the farmer that owned this land. His crops were probably going to be ruined by the overwatering.
“That isn’t going to stop Aaron for long,” said Christopher.
“No,” agreed Ken. “But he can’t see us now.” He pointed at the white curtain between them and the cowboy who had become their hunter. “We can move to the side and he can’t see us.”
Maggie finally spoke. Desperation and exhaustion battled for possession of her voice. “But where?” she said. “There’s still nowhere to go.”
66
Maggie was wrong. There was one place to go. Not a place she was going to like. But one place was better than no place.
Next to the pivot of the sprinkler system there were several buckets, gray plastic containers about two feet long, a foot and a half wide, and a foot deep.
“Everyone grab one of those,” said Ken.
They did without question.
“Come on,” he said. Began running. They followed, again without asking. Even though he was leading them in a direction that probably made no sense to any of them.
Back where they had come.
He looked behind. Aaron hadn’t come through the sprinklers yet. Ken doubted that was because the cowboy couldn’t get through the streams of water. More likely he was just being careful; wary of a trap that would take him out.
Good. They needed the extra time.
“We can’t go back to the train,” said Christopher. “Theresa’s there. And there’s at least one gun still in play.”
“I know,” said Ken.
“Can’t just cross back over the canal, either,” said Buck. “We’re not that far down from the train. She’ll probably see if we do that.”
“I know that, too.”
They ran in silence.
Ken looked back again. He thought he saw a dark form in the water of the irrigation sprinkler.
Aaron stepped through.
He looked to his right, then straight ahead. Both of the logical directions the group might have taken.
Then he looked to his left. Saw them. The one direction that made no sense.
He once more gave chase.
67
They couldn’t outrun him. There were two people carrying children, and the other two wouldn’t leave them behind.
Ken wasn’t a math teacher, but that was a simple enough equation even for him to figure out.
So they had to have a vehicle. No tractor sat in view, no sturdy work truck hunkered in the field. Whoever ran this farm must have been offsite the day of the Change. Working another field, perhaps. Dead in a field of turnips somewhere, or one of those who had run madly after the train.
But there was no machine that would carry them away from Aaron. And that meant they would have to rely on the one thing that moved faster than he did.
The irrigation canal.
In dry weather, the canal water could move quickly – a few miles an hour.
Now….
“In,” said Ken.
“WHAT?” shouted Christopher.
Ken looked back. Aaron was closer than he should have been. Ken felt suddenly like he was starring in a Terminator remake. Only this Terminator was someone who had once been a friend.
Still was a friend. That was the worst part. Ken believed that Aaron still cared for all of them. But he was going to capture them. Decide the best course.
And then execute it.
Good people didn’t always agree.
And Ken couldn’t take a chance that Aaron would come down on their side.
He looked back at the others. “Hold the buckets. Use them as flotation.”
“No way.” Christopher was shaking his head. Backing away.
“So you climb skyscrapers, but you’re afraid of a little water, huh?” said Buck. He was already down on his bottom, scooting to the edge of the canal. Hope was slung high on his shoulder. Ken hoped he could hold her high enough to keep her safe.
“Dude, that’s just crazy. This is suicide.”
Ken shrugged. “Fine. Stay and wait for Aaron.”