After they’d rested for a while, Billy and Reave moved on. Although it was easier to cross the firmer ground, it wasn’t without its hazards. They had to wade through large areas of standing water, and Billy, at one point, sank up to his waist in a trough of thick, sucking mud. Reave struggled for ten minutes before he managed to drag him out. The insects seemed to increase, both in numbers and in daring, and the mud drying on their clothes irritated their skin just as much as the mosquito bites.
Filthy and exhausted they eventually reached the lower slopes of the high ground. It was covered in soft springy turf. Both Billy and Reave fell down and lay panting on the grass. They rested in silence for a while, then Reave noticed something in a slightly longer clump of grass, and crawled towards it. He laughed and called to Billy.
‘Hey, see what I found.’
Billy raised his head.
‘What is it?’
‘Come and take a look.’
Billy crawled to beside Reave, who parted the grass with his hands. In a hidden nest were a clutch of eight pale blue eggs. They were slightly larger than the pigeons’ eggs Billy had stolen in Pleasant Gap when he was a kid. He grinned at Reave.
‘Breakfast!’
‘Or lunch.’
‘Or supper, who can tell in this fucked-up place?’
‘It’s food, anyway. What do you think we should do with them?’
Billy looked around.
‘I don’t know. I guess we’re going to have to eat them raw.’
‘We could build a fire and try to cook them.’
Billy laughed.
‘With what, man? We don’t have any pans or anything.’
‘We could build a fire and fry them on a hot rock.’
‘We don’t have any grease.’
Reave shrugged.
‘There are times when you have to improvise.’
Reave scrambled to his feet and hurried down the slope. A few minutes later he returned with an armful of twigs and a round flat stone. After a couple of false starts, he got a fire going. Reave laid the rock on top of the hot embers. He spat on it to make sure it was hot enough, and when he was satisfied he cracked all the eggs on to the top of the rock. They were chalky and full of pieces of grit. Billy and Reave burned their fingers picking the food from the hot rock. When they’d finished, however, Billy lay back on the grass with a grunt of satisfaction.
‘I could eat that three times over.’
‘It sure was welcome.’
They slept for a while, and woke up stiff, aching, but a good deal more hopeful than they’d been earlier. They began to climb the hill. About halfway from the top they came across a well-used dirt road that appeared to wind to the other side of the line of hills.
They’d been following the road for perhaps half an hour, although they both still had trouble judging how time passed. They heard a sound from somewhere. It started as a high-pitched whine, but seemed to get fuller as it came towards them. It grew to a full-throated roar, and a figure on a motorcycle came over the hill and down the road towards them. The motorcyclist bounced past them, but slewed to a halt, and came back. Both Billy and Reave had caught the flash of a guitar on the rider’s back. They looked at each other.
‘It can’t be.’
‘It’s not possible.’
The Minstrel Boy kicked the big elaborate machine, with its long forks and high bars, on to its stand and walked towards Billy and Reave. Pulling off his leather flying helmet, he brushed the dust from his long suede coat.
‘Hey fellas, fancy seeing you boys around here.’
‘We never thought we’d see you again.’
‘No?’
‘How did you get out of that fault in the river?’
The Minstrel Boy frowned.
‘The river? That was a whole long time ago.’
It was Billy’s and Reave’s turn to frown.
‘Huh? It was only a couple of days ago.’
The Minstrel Boy shrugged.
‘Suit yourselves. You know best. Where are you headed?’
Billy spread his hands.
‘No idea. We just pulled ourselves out of the swamp. We were going up this hill to see what was on the other side. Are there any towns near here?’
The Minstrel Boy nodded wearily.
‘Sure, there’s a city on the other side of the hill. I wouldn’t care to say whether you’d like it or not.’
‘You mean there’s something wrong with it?’
‘There’s something wrong with most cities. You don’t need me to tell you that.’
‘But is this one okay?’
The Minstrel Boy scratched his ear.
‘I’m a minstrel, not a tourist guide. If you mean will you come to harm, there’s a chance of that anywhere. If you wanted to avoid harm you would have stayed in that hick town that you came from. If you mean is the city where you’ll find what you’re looking for, you got the wrong person. I can’t tell you something that you don’t even know yourselves.’
After the Minstrel Boy’s outburst, there was an awkward silence. Billy looked at the ground and spoke tentatively.
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Some other place.’
‘How would it be if we came with you?’
The Minstrel Boy pointed at the motorcycle.
‘It don’t take but one.’
‘That’s a pity.’
‘Not really, I’m headed for one place, and you’re on the road to that city over the hill. We just met in passing. It doesn’t call for anyone to change their plans. You go your way, and I’ll carry on along mine.’
‘Sure. I guess we’ll be seeing each other.’
The Minstrel Boy nodded.
‘That’s possible. So long.’
He was walking back to the bike, pulling on his helmet, when Reave called him back.
‘You wouldn’t have anything to eat, would you? I mean, something you could spare.’
‘You run out of food?’
‘Yeah.’
He fumbled in one of the big patch pockets and pulled out a small package.
‘Have a cookie.’
‘Uuh …’
‘Have two. In fact, if you’re hungry, take the whole packet.’
He tossed the cookies to Reave and then turned and walked away. He kicked the bike into life and swung back on to the dirt road. Billy and Reave watched until he was out of sight. Then they turned, and started up the hill.
***
Her/Their sensors had long detected the existence and location of the place. Now it was coming close. She/They was filled with hope. All caution was abandoned as She/They cut a straight line through the grey fabric of disordered matter. She/They was homing in on the place of stasis.
It was a natural fold in the fabric that would have been safe on its own. With the addition of the generated field, it was the ideal place for Her/Them to heal Her/Their wounds and restore Her/Their full potential.
As She/They drew closer She/They discovered that humans were occupying the fold. It was they who had built and still operated the generator. They would be a nuisance, but would not constitute a danger to the delicate energy transfer that She/They had to perform. She/They would rather that they weren’t standing around gawping at Her/Them, but it couldn’t be helped.
To Her/Them, the generators typified the attitude of the humans, crude machines that produced a semblance of stability. The humans seemed content with them, but to Her/Them they were an ugly half measure. An expedient answer to a question that demanded absolutes. It pained Her/Them to have to resort to their rough power, but the present necessity dictated it.
She/They slowed down as a landscape formed beneath Her/Them. She/They floated slowly down a bare grey hill, at the bottom of which there was a seemingly pointless land transport that ran on a circular track. Beyond a line of tall cultivated plants lay the dwellings of the humans and the mean centre of the stable area.