Vael Scout's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The scout slid down the last dune on its belly and stopped behind a broken wall at the edge of the town. The gunshot had come from inside. The scout tasted the air. Two warm bodies. Close. The scout crawled between two shells of houses and pressed flat against a leaning post. Two humans stood in the open street. The male was thick through the shoulders, dark hair cut short, a black goatee, a patched military shirt open at the collar. He held a rough gun made from pipe and wire. The female was smaller, blonde hair pulled back, a white tank top gone gray with dust, the same kind of homemade gun braced against her hip. Both of them turned in slow circles, checking every doorway. "Emmy!" the male shouted. His voice cracked off the walls. "Emmy, answer me!" "She ran this way," the female said. "Mendez, she ran this way, I saw her." "Then where is she, Riley?" The scout held still. A third human, small, missing. Good. Three warm bodies for the wagon instead of two. The scout's tail twitched against the sand. Mendez swore and jogged to a sun-faded jeep parked crooked in the street. Dusty tires. Cracked panels. Riley climbed in beside him. The engine caught on the second try and the jeep lurched forward, kicking up a wall of dust. The scout broke cover and ran. Four legs on open ground. The scout kept low, using the ruin walls, cutting the corners the jeep had to swing wide around. The vehicle was fast on the straight stretches. The scout lost ground, then gained it back where the road bent between two collapsed houses. The scout's lungs burned. The bead sat ready between two claws. The jeep slowed to grind through a rut. The scout scrambled onto the top of a low wall, braced its tail, and threw. The bead struck the windshield in the upper corner and stuck. A small dark dot against the dust. Neither human turned. The jeep pushed through the rut and picked up speed again, and the bead rode with it, blinking its slow signal to any Vael antenna within range. The scout dropped off the wall and pressed into the shadow of a doorway. It pulled the humming panel from its belt and held it up. The panel warmed. The scout keyed the pattern Urig had taught it. Marked. Two soft ones, one small one loose, moving east in a wheeled machine. Send hunters. The panel gave back one flat tone. Received. The scout crouched in the doorway and watched the dust trail thin over the rooftops. Its tail settled. The cage wagon would not be empty. The scout would not stand in front of Urig with empty claws. Not today. The scout waited for the soldiers to come.