The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  Adam is on his feet, grabbing at his launcher and readying it. Sparrow and Kicker are further away, too far to make out clearly, but in the light of the fire I can just about see shadows. They’re large and looming, nearly surrounding the camp. I wake like a shot and throw the tarp off me, scrambling to my knees. Behind me, I hear Brick snapping awake.

  "Brick," Adam barks, "stay here. Protect her."

  He obeys immediately, clutching a launcher and pulling me behind him. I lift and aim my own weapon, though in the darkness and panic, with the sound of fighting all around us, I don't know if I'll be able to fire it.

  "Stay behind me," says Brick, and his voice is hard. He's not playing games anymore - this is serious.

  Something clicks behind me and I whip round, but he's already seen it. He fires a launcher directly at the shadow that climbs over the wall, and after a few seconds it crumples to the ground, motionless. My heart thumps in my chest, adrenaline burning through my limbs. The panic must show on my face, because Brick taps at my arm and shoots me a reassuring smile.

  "Don't worry," he smirks, "this is pretty normal. There are only a few - the others will take care of them."

  As he speaks, his brow twitches. For a moment I wonder if he's in pain, but then he turns and aims the launcher away. He looks more irritated than pained. He stares at the shadow battle going on in the distance with hunger in his eyes. Of course. He's probably mad that he's been relegated to the back, an injured soul protecting someone who can't protect themselves. For someone like him, a front line soldier, it's got to be hell. My grip tightens on the trigger of my launcher.

  "Guys!"

  I look up; the others are coming back now, and the sound of the bots seems to have faded. But it's still hard to hear anything over the background hum and the crackle of the flames.

  I step forward and reach the others, checking them all over for signs of injury. Kicker has a nasty slice across one cheek, but as I reach for it he brushes me away.

  "No time for that," he mutters, "they could still be close."

  As if on cue, Sparrow shoots a launcher into the darkness. Something metallic crunches, and then comes a groaning sound followed immediately by a crash. My body tenses again. There are still more.

  We back up into the two-wall, launchers raised, and Adam holds out an arm to keep me behind him. Perhaps on any other day I'd be infuriated - but right now I can understand why he doesn't want me to fight. I'm helpless. I could end up getting someone hurt.

  Several shots later and the final bot falls. We stand motionless for a time, our bodies tensed, every muscle in our bodies hunched and ready to fight at a moment's notice. I bite my lip; bots are smart. Some of them are capable of tricks, stalking, even ambushes. It makes sense we'd want to be sure.

  But then Adam lowers his launcher, and the others follow suit. I keep mine firmly in my arms, gazing down at it. There are still ten shots in my launcher. Ten. I've not shot at anything, not attacked a single bot. I'm not an idiot; running out there alone would have been stupid. But maybe I could do more than I have been. Maybe…

  "Is everyone okay?" asks Adam, turning to face us. The others nod, and Sparrow sinks to her knees.

  "That's it," she groans, "I'm next for sleep, damnit."

  The others laugh, but I'm not looking at them. Something catches the corner of my eye. A tiny movement, a flicker, a shadow moving in shade just as dark. It's nearly silent though, and it takes me a moment to realise it's not just my imagination. I stare hard, and suddenly I realise that it’s moving. Towards us, behind Adam's back, its large pincer-like claws prepared to bear down on him.

  I don't think. My body moves of its own accord, and I lift the launcher and fire two swift shots at the bot’s core. The mines connect and wrap their tentacles around it in an instant, before the others have time to react. A shock rings out and the bot leans, disabled, eventually crashing to the floor in a smoking heap.

  I remain in place, my body paralysed by shock, my launcher aimed into the sky. The others stare at me, their mouths open, clearly confused by what just happened.

  "Where did that one come from?" cries Kicker, "I didn't even hear it!"

  "No clue," replies Sparrow, "good thing Mouse spotted it."

  Brick claps me on the back with one of his massive hands, and it breaks through the stunned feeling. I slowly lower the launcher to the floor and tuck my fingers under my arms. My hands are shaking. My lips are trembling. My chest clenches.

  But none of them notice. They're too busy talking about what just happened, praising my quick thinking and perfect aim. Instinct kicks in and I try to act modest, waving away their compliments and shrugging. It doesn't work - even Kicker seems impressed.

  But then Adam locks eyes with me and my blood runs cold. For a brief moment, I wonder if he's going to scold me, scream at me for daring to act without orders, for assuming I could fight something like that alone. Of course he didn't see how close it was to him, how easily it would have shredded his body - so it makes sense he'd be mad. I close my eyes tight and wait for my punishment.

  Nothing comes. After a few seconds I open my eyes, and I can see him. He stands in front of me now, his hand held out like he wants me to take it. Our eyes meet; Adam smiles.

  "Good job, Scout."

  Before I can register what he said, Sparrow throws her arms around me and pulls me uncomfortably close.

  "Ooh! Do you mean it, Boss? She can join us? "

  Adam frowns, and for a moment I think he's going to pass it off, shrug and walk away. But then his brows furrow and he gives a small nod.

  "Sure. She's not ready yet to be a regular, but with time, effort and a ton of training, anything's possible."

  Without warning, a smile breaks out across my face. Once it's there I can't stop it; the sun rises on overhead and we start to pack, but that silly smile is still playing on my lips. My limbs quiver with happiness. I finally feel some level of satisfaction. Those months of training, sprinting around the edge of Fairground and silently arguing my corner in council meetings have finally come to a head. He finally doesn't think I'm useless.

  I lean down to collect the empty water bottles from the ground and frown. The one that had held vodka is now empty, despite being almost full last night. I glance at Sparrow; there's no way one person drank that all in a couple of hours. Perhaps I could find out; but she holds herself proud, her balance flawless, her stance perfect. She doesn't seem drunk or hungover. If anything, she seems more focussed. The thought crosses my mind that the more someone drinks the more they can handle, which could point to a pretty sizeable problem, but I shake it off. They're always telling me that they have their own methods of coping. I'm not in any position to be judging that - though maybe it's worth mentioning to Dr Newton. No doubt he'd want to make sure she's okay.

  "How do you feel?" Kicker asks Brick. The larger man shakes his head.

  "Not going to lie, not great. But it's one of those things. It'll go away."

  I walk over to him and hold out my arms, beckoning him closer, but he steps away.

  "I'm okay, really."

  I glare at him - and then, astoundingly, despite his being twice my size, he shrinks back.

  "Geez, fine! You win."

  He leans forward, allowing me to reach up and touch the wounds on his chest. Behind him, Sparrow winks. Clearly, there's a certain talent involved in being heard on this team. Brick's wounds feel a little warm; but I can't tell if it's just from the building heat as the sun starts to flash through the dome overhead. I hold my hand there for a moment and consider his chances. I cleaned the cuts thoroughly and kept them bound, but it's filthy out here. All it takes is some sweat or a bit of dirt to find its way under the bandages and it could get infected.

  Adam steps up next to me, concern apparent on his face.

  "Is everything alright?"

  I'm not sure how to explain, so I simply shrug. His expression tightens.

  "Do we need to go back?"

  Brick r
eaches up and pushes me away, perhaps with a little more force than he intends to.

  "We're not going back," he snarls, "not again. Come on, we're finishing this."

  With that he grabs his pack and launcher, throws them both over his shoulder and stalks off. Adam takes a step forward like he's considering chasing him down, but I clutch his arm to stop him. I don't want to cause any undue concern. It could well be nothing.

  "I'm trusting your expertise here," he says in a low voice, "the second you decide he needs treatment, we'll head back. Until then, we'll all watch out for him."

  I nod, gather the rest of our gear, and prepare for the journey ahead.

  We have to travel through a few miles of ruins before we can relax. Initially we remain tense, walking low, weapons held in front of us. A bot attack - especially one like last night - can draw more bots to the area. Some bots can even track, so we need to make sure we're not being followed. But eventually Adam lowers his launcher just the slightest bit, and the others seem to take that as a sign to relax. They straighten up and exchange a few words as we walk, and I find myself following suit. It's surprising how quickly I've learned to follow what they do. The way they walk, the tension in their muscles. Even the way their eyes dart relentlessly around them as we travel. It seems to come so naturally to them, and the longer I spend with them, the more natural it seems to be to me, too. I already feel like I've done this before. Though we've never been here before, alone or together, the streets feel perfectly normal to me, the rubble sturdy underfoot. I climb piles of broken concrete more easily now, and I'm not having quite so much trouble keeping up with the others. It's still not easy - the strain on my shoulders and legs is tremendous - but with every mile, it gets a little less painful.

  The sun is high overhead by the time Adam stops. We come to a halt behind him, and I can hear his voice as he mutters to the others. They're talking directions, having already planned out their route long ago, so I simply raise my launcher and pace around them as they talk. I can hardly contribute to the conversation, but at least this makes me feel like I'm fulfilling some purpose.

  "Alright, good," says Adam, "we'll head there as planned."

  They move out again. I begin to slide into position behind Brick, but then Adam calls me.

  "Mouse. Come here for a minute."

  Nerves flutter in my gut but I obey, darting out of the line and falling in next to him. We walk in silence for a while before he finally looks at me. When he does, his expression is nearly unreadable. He doesn't look unhappy, or angry… if anything, I'd say he looks confused. But then he speaks, his voice soft enough that the others don’t hear.

  "I'd like to thank you," he breathes, "for earlier. I know you tried to downplay it, but if it hadn't been for your quick thinking, that might have been curtains for me."

  I gape. The last thing I had expected was a heartfelt thanks. The Scouts give off the impression that they don't talk about these things, that backing each other up is just part of what they do and the way they work. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to keep tabs on how many times someone has saved someone else.

  Our eyes meet, and suddenly I realise that I have no idea what to do. What expression does this call for? I can't dismiss what he's saying. It would be cocky to seem pleased. So instead I simply nod, a short, sharp movement that I hope seems at least somewhat professional.

  Suddenly, something massive crashes nearby. Immediately we stop, and Adam raises his hand in warning to those behind. We form a tight circle in a matter of seconds, our backs pressed together, our launchers raised to cover every angle. There are a few tense moments as we stand motionless, our collective breath held. Adam stands beside me, his shoulder pushed against mine, his elbow held against my ribcage.

  The sound comes again, only from a different direction this time, and my heart is in my throat. Whatever it is, it sounds huge. It could well be the mecha that they faced last time. My hands quake. I've never seen a mecha in person before. I've heard the stories, seen the sketches in Dr Newton's books. I've sat and listened to the more experienced Scouts describe their first encounters with the mechas - they're the stuff of nightmares. I remember waking in a cold sweat after we first settled at Fairground, terrified that a mecha would come in the night and break through the steel doors of the bunker, ripping through metal and wood to get to us. I let out a long, slow breath and try to calm myself, but it doesn't work.

  "It's coming."

  Adam's voice is so quiet that for a moment, I'm not entirely sure I heard him. But a quick glance tells me all I need to know. He's staring into the distance now, his eyes locked on something that I can't see. A mecha? I hope not. I aim my launcher in that direction and place a shaking finger on the trigger. I really, really hope I don’t have to pull it.

  There's a moment of stillness, and the scene is fairly tranquil, and my blood pumps hot. It's here.

  Chapter Six

  It crashes through the wall on the other side of us - before we have a chance to turn it brings down a heavy limb, swinging at us wildly. Something solid collides with my hip and sends me sprawling. A moment later a heavier weight hits my legs and cries out. Adam.

  I grasp at the launcher and scramble to my feet, ready to fight it off - but the bot in front of me isn't a mecha. It's huge and deadly, but it's not a gatekeeper. It moves more slowly, and it has no weapons except the large, solid arms it keeps swinging at us. I step over Adam to give him a chance to get up, firing a pulse at the bot, but it swipes it away as though it were a fly. The others fire too, but the ground shakes beneath our feet and I hear Sparrow gasp.

  "Oh, fuck!"

  Adam's hand touches my shoulder and he pulls me to one side, taking aim and firing at the bot. The movement gives me a chance to look behind - only to see a number of bots approaching us from the rear. They vary in size, but there must be forty at least. My eyes widen and I raise my launcher. Eight shots in the chamber - but I don't need to do the math to know I can't take them all.

  The large one behind me falls, crashing through a wall and collapsing in a heap, but the others are fast approaching. Adam whips around now, throwing out an arm, pushing me aside so he can get a clear shot. Horror briefly passes across his face as he sees the seething mass before him, but it's quickly replaced by a look of determination. He fires blindly into the crowd, taking out one or two and slowing their approach.

  I lift my launcher to help - but something wraps around my arm, something long and metallic and chain-like. It pulls at me, and suddenly I lose my footing. The launcher slips from my hand but I grab for it, clutching tightly as the robotic limb drags me across the ground. I hear my name called, but already I'm too far away. My foot hits something solid and I kick off hard, grabbing the limb and twisting it until I hear an audible crunch. I kick again and my foot connects, hitting the bot and sending it flying.

  I struggle to stand, and the moment I do, my stomach drops. Chaos surrounds me. The others are backed up against the wall, firing hopelessly into the mass of bots around them, barely keeping them at bay. Adam has already been forced to change to a firearm - the booming shots ring out across the clearing, no doubt alerting even more of them to our presence. Sparrow is pressed against a wall, trying in vain to both protect Brick and keep him from running into the crowd. I'm a distance away from them; and somehow, the bots dismiss me altogether. Maybe it's because I'm too easy of a target. Maybe they need to destroy the biggest threat first. Perhaps they just don’t’ see me. But for whatever reason they swarm around the others, leaving me in the dust.

  Brick cries out - a bot latches to his shoulders, ripping into them, reopening his wounds. Sparrow acts immediately, grabbing a smaller bot by the limb and swinging it hard, smashing both of them against the wall. The fight has devolved into fists and knives; I need to act now.

  I clamber up on the remains of a wall, lower my launcher and start to fire into the crowd. One or two fall at the front of the group, and I can see Adam scanning the crowd f
or me. Our eyes meet - and for the first time I can see fear on his eyes. I stand on the island in the mass of bots and fire until it’s empty, then throw the launcher back onto my shoulder and briefly panic as I unhook the gun from my belt. My fingers fumble as I try to load it. In the corner of my eye, I can see the bots scrambling to get to the others, now held back only by the remains of fallen bots that block their path.

  I point the gun down into the crowd and focus my aim on the largest of the lot. Bots aren't without fear - while they don't get scared exactly, they know when to stop. It's a theory I've heard before. Take out the biggest threat and the others have to reevaluate. It could be just the distraction we need to get away.

  My finger finds the trigger and I fire two shots in quick succession. The first misses, but the second hits its mark. It pierces the bot's shell and sends it sprawling to the ground with an almighty crash.

  The world stops.

  The bots pause, and I can hear their systems whirring away as they reconsider their tactics. The others pause too, their breath short, their bodies already bruised and broken from the first round of attack. I stand with my gun held fast, pointing down into the crowd, waiting for them to decide it's not worth it and retreat.

  But then a nearby bot lifts itself up and rotates on its axis, its large, camera-red eyes finding me. I tense, but hold my ground. The bot lets out a beep, and the one next to it follows suit, turning to look at me.

  Oh no.

  One by one, the bots turn their attention to me. They stand motionless, and somehow I can tell what they're doing. They're deciding, coming to the decision that now I'm the biggest threat. Then one of them shifts toward me, and I leap back.

  "Ashley!"

  My eyes find Adam in the crowd. Horror crosses his face, and he cups his hands around his mouth to shout across to me.