brave and gone to the city with her. She hadn’t been back since then and he wondered if the Police had caught her. When people didn’t return it usually meant that either they’d decided to stay in the city, got caught doing something illegal, or been murdered travelling through the Outlands. He hoped that she was still alive and safe.
Jessie trudged up a steep hill, kicking the crumbling bitumen with the tip of his too-large shoe. He was tired and hungry and more than a little thirsty. He’d not brought enough water for the journey and was running very short of food supplies. He walked over the crest of the hill, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Just ahead of him he could see an incredibly bright shaft of light breaking through the clouds. It extended all the way from the sky down to the ground. He squinted, the sharp, bright light, burnt his eyes. The ash falling from the sky glistened white/gray as it swirled in the newly formed beam. Jessie had seen this phenomenon before, but it had started occurring more frequently over the past few years. His dad had said that the light was from the sun, and that the breaks in the cloud were from the atmosphere clearing up. He’d told him not to get too excited though; as it was early days yet and it would take years for the atmosphere to get close to anything like normal.
What was this normal anyway?
Jessie walked closer to the light. The beam was about two feet across. Gingerly he placed his bare hand into the stream. It felt warm and tingly. Not like the sticky warm of the ash and smog that filled the atmosphere, but pleasant and reassuring. He turned his hand over so as to catch some of the warmth in his palm. The noise of an approaching vehicle made him withdraw his hand quickly.
He retreated to the shadows behind a rusting truck body as a makeshift motorbike tore by. He hadn’t come across any other people so far, not in person at least, and he was grateful for it. Everybody at the camp had warned him off contact with other residents of the Outlands. Considering that their business dealings were dubious to say the least, citizens of good character were not likely to drop by. From what Jessie could tell, the Outlands were populated by a mix of the criminal, impoverished, insane, and a mishmash of elderly, disabled or bohemian types, who did not want to move into the new city.
Earlier he’d passed what he thought was one of those crazy religious group. There were people singing, and wailing and holding crucifixes. At least that’s what he saw when he peered through the window. These were the only other actual people he’d seen. He decided against going in and saying ‘hello’. In fact he made a big point of staying well out of sight, just as his father had always told him to do.
“They crucify or cut the heads off people they consider to be unholy,” his dad had told him.
Jessie didn’t know what this ‘crucification’ thing was, but he figured it was something really horrible. In addition to religious zealots, he was also frightened of coming across rival drug gangs and criminal mutants .
Were there mutants? No one had mentioned any mutants? There could be though. The whole place was spooky enough for mutants. Better look out for mutants too.
When the bike was a safe distance away, he came out of his hiding place. He looked for the light shaft, but the clouds had pulled together again. He was alone once more, with the eddying greasy grey smog, and the peculiar groaning and howling noises from the earth and wind for company.
He could hear the distant rumblings of the evening inter-settlement train service coming up the line. They ran twice daily, but rarely stopped in the Outlands. No need. Sometimes the Citadel sent out ‘social services squads’ to check on people’s ‘well being’ and to offer them a chance to come in to the city. Occasionally a ‘justice patrol’ would come out to investigate any
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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