The Girl in the City by Philip Harris

THE GIRL IN THE CITY

    LEAH GRABBED THE SALVAGE AND RAN. Metal and plastic clattered and rattled in the cloth bag hanging around her shoulders as she threw herself down the slope, slipping and sliding on the loose earth. The lights of the encampment behind her cast long shadows across the ground but made it just about possible to see where she was going. She heard the Wild Ones shouting as they ran towards the pile of discarded circuit boards, wires, and lumps of rusted iron she’d just raided. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, and a smile slid across her face. She let gravity do its job, pulling her faster and faster down the hill until she was afraid she’d topple forward.
    A dark shape reared up out of the gloom—a woman armed with a heavy wooden club. The woman swung the weapon at Leah’s head. Leah dived to the right. She landed awkwardly, the bag caught beneath her. Something hard dug into her ribs, a piece of metal or the big circuit board she’d found buried at the bottom of the salvage pile. She cried out, winced.
    The woman shouted, “Weasel’s over here, boys.”
    Leah pulled herself to her feet and took off running again. She risked a backwards glance. The woman was out of shape and weighed down by layers of heavy animal furs, and she was already falling back. There were others, though—two men, leaner and less encumbered. They were past the woman and gaining on Leah. She zigged and zagged, trying to confuse the men and slow them down, but they were too close. She needed to get out of their line of sight; she couldn’t let them follow her back to the City.
    Leah headed left, away from home and towards unfamiliar territory. There was a crack, and a puff of earth kicked up a few feet ahead of her.
    Leah yelped in surprise. She’d never been shot at before. For a moment, she considered throwing the bag away and giving up on the day’s bounty. But she couldn’t go home empty-handed.
    She ran towards another hill. The ground beneath her feet became harder. That made it easier to run, but she had to dodge stones and rocks. Twice she nearly tripped and fell.
    Another glance back showed her the men had slowed. One of them held a longrifle to his shoulder. Leah ducked as another gunshot rang out, and the bullet ricocheted off a nearby boulder. She pushed harder, desperate to reach the top of the hill, expecting any second to feel the punch of a bullet hitting her in the back. Another shot whined past her ear as she reached the crest. She flinched and threw herself forward.
    Immediately, she realized her mistake. The ground dropped sharply away from her, and she plunged over the edge. She hit the ground face first, filling her mouth with dirt, and flipped over twice. The bag slipped from around her neck, and she clutched at it, still eager not to lose the salvage. She landed on a partly buried rock and screamed as a wave of pain swept up her leg. The impact jarred the bag free, sending it sliding away from her. Leah clawed at the shifting earth, trying to at least slow herself down.
    Her shoulder clipped a tree. She lunged at it, desperate fingers wrapping around the brittle trunk. Bark broke away in her hands, but the tree held, and she stopped sliding.
    She lay there, breathing heavily, trying to get her heart back under control. Dirt and a few smaller rocks tumbled past her head. Her bag was above her, caught between a pair of rocks that would have quite happily shattered her spine had she hit them.
    The harsh voices of the men drifted to her from somewhere up above, but Leah couldn’t see them yet. This side of the hill was dark. The lights of the encampment were blocked by the mass of earth and rock, and the moonlight had been swallowed up by the thick cloud that had rolled in that afternoon. If she was lucky, the men might not be able to see her in the gloom. That was why she’d chosen to stray so far from home and try such a brazen raid in the first place.
    Opposite her sat a large rocky outcrop,