The Last Ride

I couldn't believe it.  It was all so beautiful.  The sand, the heat, the few plants that were strong enough to survive were flourishing.  The desert is a hard place to visit, much less live.

I wasn't there to stick around.  Just long enough to do my job and leave as quickly as I could.  People that do my job generally aren't welcome here.  The end of the War brought an end to the industry being legal in the States, but at the same time, smuggling has never been legal.



It wasn't always smuggling though.  Sending computer and radio parts used to be as normal as walking down the street and smoking a cigarette.  It wasn't until the Government began controlling the media and information in the country that it was outlawed and people like me became criminals.  A desk jockey in a suit became Public Enemy #1.  Of course, getting parts from manufacturers wasn't a problem.  The real problem came from getting the parts to the paying customer.  That's where I came in.

Monterrey, the closest city to the States, became a haven for all kinds of contraband.  Drugs, weapons, people.  They were all run from Monterrey.  But the highest paying runs came from people wanting tech.  Pirates, press, even people following the underground fad of illegal Net transmissions needed equipment.  As long as they had the money, somebody had the hardware and I had the means of getting it there.

After the first few decades, the market thinned as people realized that the Government was serious and had the means to stay in power.  Kids in basements were caught, rich heirs turned a page, and the population began to turn towards the new Order.  But there were still a few that kept work coming.  They weren't amateurs.  They were die-hard Resistance that continued the fight, and after a time, it seemed they had the chance to win. All they had to do was wait for the right day.  And their day was coming.

It came after new, stricter laws were enacted in the States.  No electronics except light and heat.  No music, no radios, and absolutely no broadcasting of any kind.  The country was up in arms and a new light shined for the Resistance.

They placed an order.  Enough computers, dishes, and other parts to set up a nationwide broadcast Net.  In triplicate.



The only way from Monterrey into the States is a two-lane blacktop that's under constant observation.  Even though its only four hours in and four out, if you ran it once and didn't get caught you were lucky.  If you ran it twice and lived, you were good.  This would be my eighth time to the States and I wasn't hired for cheap.  The Resistance had asked for me and two other Runners personally.  We were as close to legends as possible in that wasteland and were about to become more.

The plan was for each one to run a complete set of the order into the States, drop it, and make the run back.  No hello, no goodbye; strictly business.  This had been done before, but never with cargo designated to be so important.  I personally wanted all three of us to succeed and the Resistance to win, but I wasn't in it for a cause other than money.



We left early, hitting the blacktop before it was light out.  Making good time across the desert, I almost fooled myself into thinking we were free and clear.  The New Dallas skyline was just visible when my radio crackled announcing the presence of a People's Protection Patrol on the road ahead of us.  In the lead, I instructed the other Runners to step on it and make some time.  The heat off the engine blurred everything that wasn't distorted by the land and made almost impossible to see the People's Air Corps flying low towards us.

I wished the other Runners good luck and told them to continue to New Dallas through the wastes as I continued on the blacktop with the Air Corps right behind me.  Pushing the pedal a little harder,  the engine crept into the red line as I raged towards the drop point.

In seconds I was upon the Road Crew.  Their black armored vehicles rushed against me and I veered off the road to avoid being smashed.  They had no way of catching me out in the desert, and I could buy a little more time for the others.  The temp gauge on the motor had broken long ago, but I felt more heat from the engine as I rushed headlong into the desert, pushing it as hard as possible.  I only needed a few minutes before the rest of the hardware reached its destination.  As long as the Air Corps was after me and not the others, they still had a chance to reach New Dallas and deliver.

Running hard across the dunes, I heard the first burst from the machines above.  They grazed the sand in front of me sending liquid glass across my face as I ignored their warning shots.  I down shifted, flew across the sand and pulled ahead of them.  Air Corps pilots hate being out run, even for a short distance.  Their next shot wouldn't be so friendly.

The .67 cal rounds from the next burst trashed my cargo and set it to flames.  Another trick they use to try and discourage any Runners from continuing further.  A crackle in my radio told me my companions had outmaneuvered the law on patrol in the desert and were on their way to the drop point.  Too bad the Air Corps didn't hear it.

After their warning tactics didn't work, the Corps opened fire on me and riddled everything with holes.  Gauges and sensors exploded all around, showering me with molten metal.  As I went airborne the tachometer buried and the engine gave all she had before it exceeded the limit and went out with a terrific explosion sending me tumbling through the Waste.



The incessant beep of the few remaining sensors and the static on my headset brought me back to consciousness.  Everything around me was heat and sand.  The engine wasn't in flames, but it was hot enough to think otherwise.  The Air Corps that gunned me down had landed and released its ground squad.  Twisting my head revealed Net hardware and engine pieces strewn as far as I could see.

As the ground squad crept closer I reached for the Full Safe detonator stored on my vehicle and held it to my chest.  Craning my hearing into my busted headset, I made out that the other Runners had made the drop and were on the way back to Monterrey.  I clutched the detonator to my chest and closed my eyes.  It was all over.  The Resistance had their equipment and would soon be in contact with every citizen of the States.  All I had to do was push the button.