Desert King’s Convoy

“Please, don’t do it.” That’s what Arthur’s sense of danger was telling him.

Normally, when the sense that kept him alive was telling him “no”, he’d listen. And normally, it wasn't triggered by an envelope. It slipped through the mailbox at 4 in the morning, landing in front of Arthur’s door with an audible thunk. Arthur would’ve ignored it if not for 3 key factors: 

1. It came at 4 in the damn morning

2. The aforementioned thunk, which paper envelopes aren’t known for

3. Desert wastelands don’t have post offices

After the oceans dried up,  what remained of humanity relegated itself to a few largecities, the closest of which was Manchester. Arthur would go there for his jobs, not the other way around… but it was pretty obvious this was an exception. The letter isn’t paper, not even fabric; it looks and feels like someone weaved a bunch of steel thread and cut it to the size of a slip of paper. He doesn’t recognize the designs on the front--scattered hexagons with white roses in the middle of each--but it’s easy to tell that whoever had it shipped out here was loaded. 

Arthur tears it open, and apparently it’s an envelope-nesting-doll; one envelope leads to another. For a moment, Arthur’s excitement rises. Maybe someone rich left something in the wastes, or needed it shipped with no eyes on it… regardless, this job would have him paid for-

To King Arthur’s castle. 

The slip falls out of Arthur’s hands.

Two people on this planet had ever called him that name. One was dead, and the other was… “Rayleigh Frost.” It’d been 20 years since he let himself think of that name… because the memories always came rushing back. The day a short, stout man came up to him and asked every question about his powers there was. The nights he’d drag Rayleigh out of the lab, looking forward to hearing what kind of ability had kept him in there so long.

 The day that Rayleigh, screaming and crying, begged Arthur to come to the city… and Arthur stayed in the desert.

He hadn’t heard a word since then. What could Ray want now?

Arthur, it’s been a while. I-  There’s an awkwardly large space between that word and the next. Arthur remembers the way he’d pause mid-sentence and look away… which he only did when he was nervous. I hope you’ve been well. There’s something that I need delivered from one city to another, and it’s… quite a messy situation. I can’t trust anyone else. Should you take the offer, you’ll find the package in a building near Big Ben.

Please, Arthur… I can’t put into words how important this is.

• Rayleigh

Arthur couldn’t get to his truck faster.

———

The package is pretty easy to find, mostly because it’s gigantic.

 Monstercase--it’s far too large to be called a suitcase-- is twelve by six feet of solid metal, and sports the massive, mechanical locks you’d find on a bank safe. Arthur hears a gentle whirring in the back, and goes around to see… vents? 

“The hell?” Arthur snags the letter sitting atop Monstercase.

First off… Thank you. I’ll need you to open this suitcase (don’t worry about being gentle), and take the cargo inside to Hanoi, Vietnam- “Excuse me?!” -and yes, I’m aware that’s a long way, but this needs to be far, far away from Manchester at the moment. Things are getting… intense, and we cannot lose the cargo no matter what. If what we’re working on is successful… we might be able to start restoring the Oceans.

Arthur throws the letter and starts inspecting the locks. There’s no key, no obvious way to get the case open, but Ray wasn’t the type to put puzzles on- oh. The key is the lock itself. It’s of ancient make, and though Arthur doesn’t remember the name, he does remember that these locks really suck in the cold… perfect

He puts his hands on the case, and breathes. Ice begins to creep from his palms, and it runs across the lock until the whole thing’s encased. When he hears the creak of the metal, he backs up right in time not to be caught in the aftermath of the POP as it shatters. The case opens itself up, and Arthur chuckles at how much it’s like a display case… until he sees what’s inside.

A woman. 

She’s a slender little lady, about 5 feet, with umber-brown skin and curly hair down to her shoulders. She’s hooked up to a mammoth of an oxygen tank—which seemed to make up most of Monstercase's bulk— and is sound asleep. The clothes tell him she’s only a civilian; city nobles were way too gaudy for a basic white blouse, skinny jeans and some flats, and the gold necklace that sat on her neck wasn’t diamond-encrusted. The “key to restoring the oceans” definitely had powers, but Arthur didn’t see any signs of- oh. He didn’t see because her arms were tucked under her, but her palms are green as far as he can see. Interesting…

She wakes up.

Her eyes flutter for a moment- yellow, there’s a color you don’t see every day- before they shoot open at the sight of him. She tears off the mask and clambers back, and upon realizing she’s cornered, sticks out a trembling hand. “S-stay back!”

Arthur reaches for his pistol before he can stop himself, but before his hand even touches the holster, he’s sent flying back by a blast of something cold and wet. He lands with a thud, and some of whatever-it-is gets in his mouth- 

It’s water. 

And not the stuff he’d suck out of a cactus; this was pure, clean… “Freshwater. Your- you make freshwater.” 

“You- you stay back or I will drown you-“

Arthur rises to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Who are you?”

“Arthur. I’m one of Rayleigh’s people, calm down.”

“One of Mr. Frost’s…” The girl’s eyes widen, and her hand lowers just a bit. “Prove it.”

“One second.” Making sure to keep his left hand up, Arthur reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a photo. It’s him and Rayleigh, back before the oceans dried up, while they were visiting Tokyo. Arthur has him in a headlock; Ray was always camera-shy. “I take it with me everywhere I go.”

She tentatively takes it from him, and the longer she looks at it, the wider her eyes get. “This… this is the same one in his office…”

Arthur’s heart skips a beat, but he makes sure to maintain an easy grin. “That right?”

“Yeah, he looked at it every day…” Arthur’s heart skips another beat, but he’s more focused on the way her eyes are flashing between him and the photo. “Does that mean you’re… ‘King Arthur’?”

Arthur’s gobsmacked. “He still calls me…?”

The girl straightens up and hastily dusts herself off. “Well, not all the time, but- anyway!” She sticks her hand out to shake. “Breanna Richardson, a pleasure and an honor! I’ve heard the stories of how you saved Paris.”

Arthur snorts. “You mean right before it fell anyway? Any case…” Arthur shakes Breanna’s hand. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

———

Arthur slings Monstercase on his back (he’ll use it for something, he swears) and it doesn’t hit him until they’re on their way out that Breanna’s…  perfectly calm. Her gait is slow as she looks around, fingers tracing along the walls. “So this is the Eurasian desert?”

“Yeah.” Arthur looks in front of him; the threshold to  outside’s about a thousand feet away. Shit. Guess I’ll talk while I still can.  “I gotta say, you’re awful calm.”

Breanna gives him an awkward smile. “Yes, well… this isn’t my first time being in a suitcase.”

“Beg your pardon?”

He doesn’t know why she’s chuckling, he’s dead serious. “You’ve seen my powers, yes? Ever since I was a girl, I’ve been under protection… normally involving being stuffed in a suitcase and held somewhere. I only got scared today because I didn’t know who you were.”

“Uh huh.” But if she’d been under tight wraps for so long... “What’s it you need protecting from?”

Breanna sighs. “People in the city are… obsessed with trying to fix whatever made the oceans dry up. I was only a little girl when people discovered my powers, and when they did…”

“They lost their damn minds, I’ll bet.”  Five hundred, now.

She nods. “Everyone has their own idea of what to do. ‘Oh, let’s hook her up to this device!’ ‘Oh, let’s make her fill up every lake we can find!’ Or my personal favorite, ‘Oh, let’s turn her into breeding stock!’”

Arthur drops Monstercase while he chokes on his own spit. Breanna pats him on the back, but he sees the amusement in her eyes. “I had the same reaction, yes.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath. “And what makes Rayleigh’s crew so different?” Knowing Ray, he wouldn’t be opposed to putting those powers of hers to work… just like he’d do with Arthur’s.

“...Not a lot. But their main priority seems to be keeping me alive, so I’ve come to trust-” They cross the threshold, and Breanna goes silent. Arthur knows why.

She didn’t look a day above 20, but Arthur wagered this girl had seen pictures of the world before the dryout. That would only make seeing its current state more shocking. The bottom of the River Thames was cracked and dry, and the trees that lined it withered up and died long ago. The buildings are crumbling all around, and it’s ruins as far as the eye can see. Arthur spares a look at her face--she’s almost ready to cry--and he’s just glad she didn’t have to see it all happen.

For a moment, his mind goes back. To the days he’d be hiding and watching people tear each other apart limb from limb just for a couple of drops of water. To wildfire after wildfire after wildfire. To watching people beg him to make ice so they could have a drink, and walking away-

He smacks himself in the face. Not now. And more importantly… Breanna crouches down and holds herself, and her eyes are dead. All Arthur can do is give her a pat on the back.

She takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky. “He told me it was a desert. I- I knew that, but-“

“It’s different seeing it?”

Breanna nods. “Whenever I saw people come into the city, how happy they were when all I did was make some water or fruits… I wondered just how severe it was. This… Can I even do anything?”

“Well, I know Ray, and he’s probably had a plan in the works for a- wait, fruits?”

“That’s right… I haven’t shown you.” She gets up, and gazes at her hand. “I’ll have to make the water, but… I can make it happen. I have to.”

Arthur’s about to ask what ‘it’ is when she puts her hands on the ground and something about her posture becomes- rehearsed is the word that springs to mind. “This is… another thing I can do.”

The ground beneath Arthur shifts. 

His hand is on his pistol, looking around to see what the disturbance might be- until his senses lead him back to her. Light is emanating from her palms, pouring itself into the ground and something begins to emerge- a tree. It’s like watching a timelapse; it starts as a sapling, and in ten seconds it’s a young tree. Ten seconds more, and Arthur is looking at a full-blown apple tree, fruits and all.

She picks one off, looking it over in a manner that reminds him of a judge in a competition. After a shrug, she hands it to Arthur, who is preoccupied with picking his jaw up from the floor. “Would you like one?”