Vapor, Cont. 1

"Say! Doc!" Shaun yelled right into my ear. I reached around and pushed his head back, scowling.

"What?"

"Some locals at 10 o'clock. Looks like they'd heading for the hills."

And so they were, though they'd never get there in time. I could see a plume of dust rising behind them as they kicked over the bumpy terrain in homebrew buggies, angling toward what was left of the old highway into Longmont.

"I wonder what they're in such a damn hurry for," I yelled back at him. "No way they're gonna beat the rain. What in the heck do you think they're even doing out here?"

The kid called out some sort of reply, but it was all chopped up by the fans. I wasn't really listening anyway. Those buggies had me intrigued. I hadn't seen the locals sporting tech like that before.

I started to bring the skimmer around toward the fleeing locals, thought of the hybrid bears we were carrying and started to pull out, then went ahead, against my better judgment.

In a few moments we were swooping in right over them. I could see six or seven buggies, rather pathetic things made out of old aluminum and carbon-composite car frames, but sporting enormous rubber tires, which really surprised me, and an invisible source of power. I eased back on the throttle and circled around the locals as they drew up into a sort of defensive circle and stopped. They all rushed out into the middle of the circle and started waving their arms around threateningly.

"What do you think they're about?" I shouted at Shaun. "They can't think we're gonna hurt them?"

"I don't think they're threatening us, Doc," he yelled back. "I think they're trying to get our attention."

I looked again, and this time the waving arms didn't seem so menacing, just urgent. In fact, the locals seemed to be lifting something up to show us, something rather long and wrapped in white cloth: a body.