by Mark Tufo
“You sure?” Reaper asked.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Apparently the lack of color in my face was all the answer he needed. We quickly dragged Kaplan down the small embankment where Reaper tended to his injuries. BT, Tracy, and I moved back up to see if we could assess the situation. The only one who had thought to bring their rifle with them was Tracy. BT and I were now looking longingly at weapons that seemed worlds away.
“Fine soldiers you two make.” She didn’t mean it in jest, either. She was pissed we were unarmed.
We could see red streaks of fire down the road not more than fifty yards. These were followed immediately by a barrage of blue streaks.
“What the hell is going on?” BT asked.
“Cover me.” But I was already over the guardrail and to the car.
“Idiot,” Tracy mumbled, I think not meaning for me to hear it, but I did. I skidded to a stop by the door. Seeing the jumble of weaponry lodged under the seats, I did my best to extract them as quickly as possible.
I hurried back. It seemed that, other than the five of us, no one else was the wiser.
“Mike?” BT asked as I handed him his weapon.
“I don’t know, man, best I can guess is we got caught in a crossfire. We were never the targets.”
“Yeah? Tell Trunks that.”
“Casualty of someone else’s war.” Reaper had come up. “Thanks,” he said when I handed him his rifle. “I need in the trunk. I’ve got medical supplies and Kap is going to need some. He probably has a concussion and he has a wound on his arm I need to stitch up. How’s everyone else doing?”
My adrenaline had been pumping at such an extreme pace I’d yet to take an inventory of my condition. I was surely going to be sore tonight and for the next few days, but as near as I could tell, I was fine and I let him know, as did Tracy and BT.
“Alright, if any of you feel dizzy or nauseated, let me know.”
I don’t think my earlier queasiness had anything to do with a head injury so I didn’t bring it up.
“Okay, cover me,” he said before he climbed over the rail and cautiously approached the car, which was popping and groaning with its final death throes.
“Why is he not an idiot?” I asked Tracy.
“You heard that? You’re as deaf as a bat and you heard that?” She never did answer my question. Maybe she would have if it weren’t for some red bolts that whizzed by Reaper’s location. I swung my rifle to where they were coming from.
“Mutes,” was all I said before pulling the trigger. I was using the Stryver weapon. Seemed the best idea, considering its lack of noise. The thing either ducked down or I forced him down with what I hoped was a well-placed, whatever you call the Stryver bullets, in his eye. I got off ten shots before I heard a clunking sound, sort of like what you’d hear if you washed your boots in a washing machine, although only once. I was out of Stryver ammo or it jammed, and the odds I was going to run into another Stryver who was willing to hook me up with ammo or fix my gun, was slim. Still, I’d hold it for now. That would change and soon when I realized that added weight was a detriment.
“Who are they fighting?” BT asked.
“No idea. Hurry up, Reaper!” I yelled. Weird how you think people need added motivation in these times. If he wasn’t in such a rush, I’m sure he would have spared a second or two to deliver a well-placed bird. I was doing a once over on my M-16, making sure it was ready to go.
He was struggling with everything; too much stuff and not enough arms. “Should I say cover me or not?” I asked Tracy.
“You go back out there, you’re an idiot either way.”
“Dammit,” I said as I quickly joined a relieved Reaper as we shuffled all of his gear out of the car.
We got back without any further instance, although Tracy looked like she wanted to toss me back out there and see if anything happened. Reaper quickly descended back down the hill with what he needed for Kaplan.
“I don’t think either side will move on us while they’re engaged in their own battle,” Tracy said.
“Seems like a perfect chance for us to get the hell out of here,” BT said.
She looked down to where Kap was getting first aid. “How long until he’s ready to move?” she asked.
“I’d rather not,” Reaper told her, not looking up. He was applying a pressure bandage to the side of Kap’s head.
“Let’s try this again,” she said.
“Fine, I need about twenty minutes to get him properly patched up.”
“You’ve got ten,” she told him, letting him know in no uncertain terms this was not up for debate.
“I wish we had a stretcher. He’s not going to be able to walk.” I was looking down at the scene below.
“I’ll carry him,” BT said.
“He’s got to be two hundred or so pounds.”
“Have you seen me?”
“I’m not doubting your strength, but you’re still human, and you’ll only be able to carry him for so long.”
“That’s not our biggest problem.” Tracy was pointing at a line of Genos heading our way. They were coming down the culvert towards us.
“Let’s go.” I was heading back down the slope. “Grab an arm,” I told BT, who slid to a stop next to me.
“He’s not finished yet.” Reaper was pissed off.
“He will be soon enough if we don’t get him to cover.” I nodded my head over to the approaching Genos.
“Shit.” Reaper started grabbing his gear. Tracy’s M-16 began to fire as she covered our withdrawal.
Her firing had halted the Genos, who surprisingly had not fired back. Luckily, we were no longer in the desert. I would take the thick greenery of Tennessee over Nevada’s scrub any day as we were in the need of thick growth. We’d dragged Kap in a good fifty feet before Reaper made us stop in order to be able to sew him up properly.
“Make it quick—we’re not going to have much time,” I told him quietly. BT and I moved closer back to the road to delay any approach of the Genos. Tracy stayed by Reaper and Kap, keeping guard over them. The vegetation was so thick that we couldn’t see much more than a few feet forward. We weren’t more than twenty feet from the culvert and I couldn’t see it.
BT got as close to my ear as he could without touching it. “Did they leave?”
“You get any closer and I’ll expect dinner.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m fucking terrified. I can’t see shit, and they are right out there.”
“I can hear you, hu-man,” came the gravel-through-a-pipe voice of a Genogerian.
BT smacked my arm because I had apparently given us away.
“Peace.”
That word was uttered, but I could not for the life of me fathom its intention. Did he mean ‘piece’ like piece of steak? Because, I’ll be honest, that was my first inclination. My rifle was up, and I was just going to start blasting trees into whatever heaven plant life goes to. I wonder if it was a Nirvana where no matter what you were in life you grew bountiful fruit in the afterlife or maybe there were twenty-two seeds for martyrs. (Think about that one for a sec, it’ll come.) When the Geno said, “friend” I was able to put the first word back in its proper context.
“This a trap?” BT whispered.
“They don’t know how.” I stood.
“What are you doing?”
“We know there are Mutes and Genos and they’re apparently having a battle.”
“Fucking let them, Mike. Maybe they’ll all kill each other and we can get out of here without taking any more casualties.”
As if in direct response, we could hear the sizzle as enemy bolts shot through the trees. I was yanked down so violently I bit my tongue, blood coming from my mouth in a thick bead.
“Brue,” I said wiping my mouth.
“What?” BT was looking for a target to come crashing through the woods. “I told you that you couldn’t trust them.”
When I cleared enough blood o
ut of my mouth to not speak with a lisp I said it again. “Blue.”
“So fucking what?”
“Blue is Genos, the Genos drew fire to our location from the Mutes, they’re not firing on us. The Genos I mean, the shots were red.”
“Getting shot is getting shot, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Genogerians, get in here!” I yelled.
“You’re fucking nuts!” BT cried in alarm.
“You will not fire on us?” The way a Geno says it makes it sound like a command, but this was a question.
“I will not and neither will my friend.” I hit BT’s arm, I could see his finger pulling on his trigger. They were a lot closer than I had expected, their natural colors blending in fairly well with the surrounding fauna. It is always taxing on the sympathetic nervous system when one comes across a Genogerian; although, in retrospect, they are much more soothing on the eye than the Stryvers. Seven Genos appeared before us; we were dead if that was their intention.
“Mike,” BT said shakily. I was so damn nervous, I couldn’t even imagine how he was keeping it together well enough to speak.
“We need help,” the one closest said to us.
“I’m not sure what you think we can do.” I stood. The size disparity was still there, but now it just wasn’t as pronounced as when I was on the ground. “No closer,” I told him. Not threatening with my rifle. It didn’t matter much, he could have closed the distance and snapped my barrel off before I could have done anything anyway.
“You are Michael Talbot,” the one closest said.
“I get that a lot. Is that a problem? Because I’d just as soon settle it now.”
“You are the reason why we are in trouble,” the one next to whom I presumed to be the leader said.
“You mean I’m the reason why you won your freedom and then pissed it all away? Is that what you meant to say?” I moved a step closer.
“What the fuck, Mike?” BT asked out of the side of his mouth.
“I gave you a new start and you couldn’t handle not being told when you had to do everything. Couldn’t even figure out how to take a shit by yourselves. I risked everything by fighting for you and you turn around and rebel. Fuck you all!”
“Um, Mike.” BT was pulling on my shirt, as I got closer to the Genogerian, who surprisingly enough was backing away. Had I taken a second to truly stop and think about it, I would have realized just how damned foolhardy I was being.
“Now here you are again with your tails between your legs looking for my help again!” I roared.
“We do NOT have tails!” the leader yelled. Apparently this was a bone of contention with them. Maybe this was like ragging on a person’s mother on Earth, because the leader got really mad, really fast.
That should have given me pause; unfortunately, I had no such governor on my actions. I had moved past the leader and was still going after the one who was backing up. He stumbled on a tangle of roots and went down. I was directly over him looking down; in reality he could have pushed me away. Well, launched me like a rocket more like it.
“Tracy!” BT shouted. “Mike is picking on the aliens!” I don’t think he intended it as anything remotely funny. BT’s only encounters with the Genos had been violent ones punctuated in blood, gallons and gallons of it.
Tracy apparently had to come from where she was to see for herself. “Get off the alien, Talbot,” she said calmly, although I could see the fear in her eyes. I was not proverbially poking the bear, I was actually doing it, and the bear in this case was much more dangerous than your garden variety grizzly.
I had yet not noticed but three of the other aliens had formed a loose semi-circle around me. It may have not been a trap on their part in the beginning but it was starting to look bad now. Trap or not, dead was dead. I was catching a whiff of how precarious a situation we were all now in.
“And um…” I looked around. “Let that be a lesson to you,” I said, backing away. It was important to not let the fear that was now flowing through me like a flooded river, show. They would have had to be dead to not see the change in my demeanor. We all could have been in trouble, us humans I mean, if the Mutes hadn’t taken up that opportunity to resume firing. Our grievances were forgotten for the moment as the terms of our uneasy alliance were once again revisited.
Bolts sizzled through the trees, cutting down any vegetation that had the misfortune of being in the way. We all got low.
“How many are there?” I asked the leader. We were quite literally face-to-face. It was not lost on me that he could have bent over slightly and tore my head from my shoulders with his mouth. That would have wrecked a perfectly good day up to that point.
“A full shuttle compliment, less the eight we have killed.”
“Let’s pretend I don’t know how many are in a shuttle.”
His face crinkled in question. “Why would you pretend that?”
We didn’t have time for me to teach a new crop of Genos my version of communication. I had to be direct, all the time, every time, our lives were going to depend on it. Not going to lie, this was not going to be easy.
“What is your name?”
“I am called Keecan.”
“Okay, Keecan, I do not know how many of those beasts can fit on a shuttle.”
“Why did you not just say so?”
“Oh, boy.”
“There are forty-two Devastator troops out there.” He pointed with his rifle.
“Outmanned and outgunned. I think we need to run.”
“We run from no one.” He seemed genuinely pissed off I had suggested that course of action.
“Great, you guys stay here and slow them down, we’re getting the fuck out of here.” I backed up to BT and Tracy.
Trees began to crack and fall over as the barrage continued above us. Deforestation by bombardment seemed to be the Mutes’ plan of action.
“You would leave us?”
“You came to us seeking help. My help involves us leaving here and staying alive.”
“There is no honor in retreating.” He seemed indignant.
“There’s no honor in dying, either. You’d be much wiser to learn that lesson. Although, if you stay here, you won’t have much time to reflect on that. Drababan knows the value of life and would never squander it so meaninglessly. We are not in a position to fight effectively.” The mention of Dee’s name seemed to galvanize the Genos.
“Do you attempt deception? Drababan would never back down from a fight.”
“You’re mistaken. He values life above all else, to sacrifice it for another may be the highest of honors one could give, but to shed a life needlessly would be the worst offense.”
“You speak the truth?”
“I see you’ve been around humans a time or two, kind of sad to see a species learn to distrust. What I am telling you is the truth. We will fight when it becomes absolutely necessary, but for now we need to get out of here and find a much more defendable position, or better yet, reinforcements.”
He thought about it, in the end I knew it wasn’t my words so much as the mentioning of Drababan that got the group moving. I honestly couldn’t say whether I was relieved or dismayed they were coming with us. Strength in numbers, sure, but eight minutes ago we were mortal enemies. Just so happens that we had a much more mortal enemy pursuing us. Weird though, because dead is dead, right? No matter how you get there. We started to move back when I told the Genos to stay put for a second while I went up another ten feet.
“Reaper, how’s Kap?”
“I’m fine,” Kap said groggily.
“Reaper, can you make sure he’s not near his rifle?”
“Huh?”
“Listen, not a whole bunch of time to explain. Mutes are coming and we need to go, but we’ve got some company you could classify as relatively friendly.”
“Goddammit,” Kap said. “Speak English, boy.”
“Fine. BT, bring our guests and let’s get going.”
“Holy shi
t!” Kap yelled as the Genos emerged. I had to run over and grab his gun before he could.
“I’m trusting to a point, Mike, but what the hell is going on?” Reaper asked.
“They’re friends for now, that’s all that matters. We have to get Kap mobile.”
“For now?” he asked softly as I wrapped my hands underneath Kap’s armpits and hoisted him up. Kap grunted as I did so.
I shrugged.
“The injured hu-man will slow us down,” Keecan said. I honestly expected him to just shoot Kap in the gut and be done with it. “Lumbal, carry him.”
Kap protested, didn’t much matter. I’d taken his gun and Lumbal, short of a shot to the head, was going to do what Keecan told him to. So we ran, and just kept running. I don’t remember much about that night except the constant grind of moving and trying to keep up with the Genos. I felt the worst for Kap; although he was getting a ride, it looked about as comfortable as riding in a car with square wheels. He turned green more than few times. I made sure to stay out of his general area in the event of a spillage.
Trees stopped, a town appeared and then disappeared, and still we ran. By the time we rested even the Genos looked exhausted. I had to admit I had no small amount of satisfaction at the sight of their heaving chests. What’s that saying about pride cometh before the fall? I was bathed in sweat, my eyes stinging from the salty fluid that kept leaking into them. BT was bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in huge chunks of air. Reaper was flat on the ground, spread-eagled and fighting to get enough oxygen. Lumbal had placed Kap down and was leaning against a telephone pole. Kap looked miserable. Probably had third degree chafing burns on eighty percent of his body.
Tracy was the only one of us who truly looked like she could still go on. She was looking back the way we had come for any signs of pursuit and also to the sky for drones. I would have been more proud of her if tiny black spots didn’t threaten to overcome my vision while I was in the process of taking in more air.
“We can’t stay here too long, we’re in the open.” Tracy was pacing around.
“Drone,” Keecan said, looking up after a moment. “Rakinall.” I noted that Keecan’s sentences all revolved around a breath-saving one word.
The one that I figured to be Rakinall removed something he was carrying on his back. It was a gray tube that was so large in diameter, if I raised my hands over my head and jumped in, I would have fit inside. It resembled a large rocket launcher; although, where you’d expect the grenade to be there were eight to ten thick pieces of metal fingers sticking up. I had no idea what those could potentially be until Rakinall placed the flat base of the apparatus on the ground and then pulled down on a lever. The metal fingers collapsed down and fanned into the shape of a radar dish.