Free Ash: Rise of the Republic by Campbell Paul Young Page B

maps that would
result would resemble to a large extent the road map he carried in
his pack.
    There was also animal life present. Birds,
small mammals, and insects were nearly as abundant as they had been
in his youth, although the variety had suffered. Most large mammals
had died off years ago for want of fodder, but plenty of
enterprising little species had found ways to scratch a living out
of the dusty ash. Rodents were especially successful of course. Of
particular concern to the rangers were feral dogs. The abundance of
small mammals and birds were their normal prey, but a big pack of
the howling beasts would have no problem taking down something
larger. There were even rumors of deadly wildcats that prowled the
ruined neighborhoods, ambushing unwary looters and adventurers.
    The rangers were wary as they moved through
the desolate region. The scouts abandoned their usual roaming
tactics and stayed close to avoid becoming dogmeat. The packs of
mangy canines they glimsed flitting between the rooftops were
reason enough for caution, but their main concern was more deadly.
Unpopulated ruins like these were hotbeds of outlaw activity.
    In hushed voices, the Captain and his wife
told the tale of a dangerous bandit named Black Tooth they had once
chased through the maze of rooftops and creeks. He and his band had
been raiding and murdering homesteaders and settlements in the area
for years. The Rangers had finally caught their trail one winter
and had tracked them for a week. They pinned the outlaws near an
old retail center one evening and a fierce firefight ensued. Black
Tooth himself was killed, but despite the Rangers' best efforts the
remaining bandits slipped away in the night, disappearing into the
suburban labyrinth. The Captain chased them for a few more days,
but the bandits knew the terrain better than he. They ambushed and
harassed his party relentlessly. The damage they inflicted was
mostly psychological. Many of the veteran rangers were still
shaking when they finally abandoned the search.. They never caught
up to them. For all the Captain knew, they were still nearby,
waiting to spring the trap that would bring them vengeance for
their fallen leader.
    The end of the second day brought them to a
new landscape. Decaying rooftops and winding suburban roads gave
way to orderly industrial parks. Abandoned factories and machine
shops were interspersed with storage depots and railways.
    There were people here. Several of the big
warehouses had been transformed into huge greenhouses which fed the
growing community around the Refinery. Each indoor farm they passed
produced throngs of burbling children, eager to meet the exciting
strangers. The farmers and their wives greeted them with warm
smiles and pressed bundles of fresh vegetables and baked goods into
their grateful hands.
    At each stop, the Captain inspected the
farms’ defenses. He was impressed. Several families lived and
worked in each of the big greenhouses. They kept guards posted at
all times; every member of each family who could hold a rifle
steady could be called on in a moment’s notice to defend the
settlement. The buildings themselves could be locked down in
minutes, and the defenders could fight from the rooftop or the
upper windows.
    The farmers and their wives were hardy,
competant people; most had a story of hardship and triumph as long
as the Captain’s. Few ranger patrols ever made it this far from
Campus, and the Refinery usually had its hands full with guarding
the fuel shipments. The tough farmers had no choice but to defend
their homes with ferocity and skill.
    They spent the last night of their journey
on the roof of some forgotten storage facility. Stretched out
before them, as far as they could see, was a twisted savannah of
steel and concrete. There were thickets of twisted metal, groves of
distillation columns, and cooling towers vined with pipes and
scaffolding. Vast tank farms lay between the copses of rusting
metal trunks. Many of