by M. R. Forbes
“Hold on,” Chains shouted, throwing the car into another spin. Jake grabbed the side of the car and held tight as they reversed course yet again.
A howl split the air, the goliaths drawing close. The car accelerated away, toward the ramp that would get them back on the road to Haven.
The boomstick exploded, trife thrown into the air and blown into pieces from the resulting force. The goliaths roared in response to it, reaching down and grabbing the demons, sweeping them into their massive mouths.
Hayden watched the scene as they sped away, the trife desperate to escape, the goliaths scooping them up and devouring them, the humans in Crossroads shrinking back and falling silent. The more distance they gained, the more his body relaxed, sinking into the plush rear seat of the car.
“Wooooooo,” Chains shouted as they ascended the ramp to the highway and finally hit the open road. “We made it! I can’t believe we made it!”
Jake looked back at Hayden, a huge smile on his face. “We did it, Sheriff.”
Hayden smiled. “We did, didn’t we?” He let his head rest on the seat. “Thanks for not leaving me behind, Chains.”
“Like the Deputy would let me,” Chains replied, turning her head to look back at him. “But you’re welcome.”
Hayden heaved out a tense sigh, his body finally starting to truly relax. Within seconds, he was as physically exhausted as he had ever been in his life.
“Wake me when we get to Haven or if we get in trouble,” he said.
“Pozz that, Sheriff,” Jake replied.
Hayden didn’t hear him.
He was already asleep.
18
“STAY ALERT,” Oversergeant Grimly said. “We lose our precious cargo; we might as well stay out here with the bugs.”
The Scrappers surrounding the truck didn’t respond. They kept their eyes on the landscape, their rifles at the ready.
Natalia watched them from inside the vehicle, a wide, low, heavily armored machine with big tires and a pair of rotating turrets jutting out from the top. The only visibility was through small slits in the metal that ran down each side of the transport, and a slightly larger windshield in the front.
The truck was a military design, loud and relatively slow, powered by a large combustion engine positioned in the front. It burned through fuel at a dizzying pace, fuel that Ghost had explained was a lot more limited in supply than the electricity that had powered the car they had taken from the Pilgrim’s launch site to Sanisco. They had managed to uncover a stockpile of barrels of the petroleum that fed the beast, but they were also aware it couldn’t last forever. Not like the wind, or the sun, or other older tech that had been salvaged and repurposed.
It wasn’t a comfortable ride. The truck shuddered with every bump, and there was no shortage of bumps out here. The road ahead of them came and went, sometimes leaving them crossing rough and broken terrain or taking long routes around areas that had been destroyed either during the war or naturally over the ensuing centuries. There were areas of extreme growth and areas of flat nothingness, but no matter where they traveled there were always signs of former civilization.
A rusted pole with a faded sign on top that read “Speed Limit 65.” A standing wall and pile of rubble in a flat central area advertising coffee, gas, or a recharge. The burned out husks of cars and military vehicles, and even the remains of a crashed fighter jet.
They had covered the first leg of the six hundred mile trip in four hours. But now the sun was going down, and the soldiers were getting nervous.
“We’ve got two miles to cover to the bunker,” Grimly shouted to his crew. “We’re going to make it, or nobody eats tonight.”
Natalia felt a shiver run down her spine. She had the same reaction every time Grimly spoke. He was a frightening man, almost seven feet tall and all muscle, his arms covered in tattoos. Like many of the members of the Scrapper militia, he had the eagle and star logo on his cheek. Unlike the other members, he also had it on the backs of his hands, as well as the palms. He didn’t display it as inked tattoos. Instead, the logo had been branded to him with a hot iron.
His appearance was the least scary thing about him. When Ghost had brought her out to the convoy that had been assembled, Grimly had been standing front and center, arms folded over his massive chest. He had looked at her like she wasn’t even human, his eyes lingering on her body, which was covered head to toe in a fitted armor of some kind. It was lighter than the other type of armor she had seen, but she had been told it would stop trife claws and most calibers of bullets, depending on range. She hated the way it clung tightly to her breasts and hips and rear when she put it on, and she hated it more when Grimly ogled her.
“Now that’s a piece of ass I’d like to eat in every way possible,” she had heard him say to the man beside him, who he called Undersergeant Pine.
Ghost had heard him, threatening him in that cold way he had. The Sergeant had paled and offered a less than sincere apology. But the truth was out there, and she knew if the Courier were ever not at her side she wouldn’t be safe from Grimly or his people. The Scrappers as a whole were composed of the worst kind of monsters. People that enjoyed inflicting violence and pain and using fear to keep the common people in line. Good people didn’t become Scrappers. Even in the harshness of their reality, their consciences wouldn’t allow it.
Instead, they became victims. That was how King had seized control of the area, and that was how he held it.
The terrain approaching their overnight checkpoint was more battered than anywhere else they had traveled so far. According to Ghost, the entire area had been hit with a tactical nuclear warhead almost four hundred years ago and had suffered a number of earthquakes since. The result was a rock-strewn wasteland, a hilly stretch of blight that was only beginning to recover. The bunker was a small, underground facility that had been excavated in the center of it, an armored garage just large enough for the four vehicles making the trip to squeeze into, and a ladder to guide the travelers down into hiding.
It was one of two checkpoints along the route to the area King called Ports, strategically positioned where the trife were the densest. For whatever reason, the goliaths didn’t go as far to the north as the other aliens did. Having seen them, Natalia wondered if it was because the air cooled and the weather got more damp, and maybe the unclothed and sexless giants became cold. It seemed too simplistic to be the real answer, but maybe simpler was more accurate.
They had to pick their way through the area, the transport barely squeezing between scars in the earth in some areas. It forced them to move at a pace only slightly faster than walking, which was the reason the Scrappers had deployed from their more open vehicles to surround the truck. She was the precious cargo Grimly had mentioned.
“Mable, you getting anything?” Grimly shouted back to the woman driving the truck.
The military vehicle was equipped with all kinds of sensors, one of which Natalia had reluctantly helped repair. She wasn’t that surprised to find the technology on the machine was nearly identical to the tech in Metro. While the city didn’t have motion tracking, a burned out circuit was a burned out circuit, a soldering gun was a soldering gun, and she had a general understanding of what wire went where.
“Nothing yet, Grim,” she replied in a hoarse, almost masculine voice.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Natalia turned her attention from the small viewport, back to where Ghost was sitting. She had barely spoken to him since they had left their audience with King after she had realized he was as crazy as his adoptive father. Maybe in a different way, but as far as she was concerned anyone who believed they were a living god was delusional.
He was already staring back at her. His gaze didn’t make her uncomfortable the way Grimly’s did. She didn’t see lust or desire to use her in his eyes. In fact, she took the softness of his look as a gentle affection, a desire to protect her that she didn’t quite understand. He said he admired her, but wh
at was that worth out here? Was it simply because she was different? Fresh and new and holding onto naive hope that the world could be more than what it appeared to be? Or was it because he believed she could give King what he wanted? She still wasn’t completely sure what that even was. He already lived more comfortably than anyone else. A crazy desire to be the ruler of the world? It was a simple answer, but maybe it was the right one.
“We’ll reach the bunker soon,” he said to her in his peaceful voice. “You’ll be more comfortable there, in King’s room.”
“He has a room there?” she replied.
He nodded. “He has been to the complex in Ports twice already.”
“Even though it’s dangerous?”
“He doesn’t fear the trife. He’s killed more of them than you or I will ever see.”
“And he can’t be killed anyway, right? Because he’s a god?”
“You mock what you don’t understand. I’ve been with him almost my entire life. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”
“Building an army of monsters,” Natalia said. “People who would be in prison where I’m from. Metro’s laws are the same laws that existed when the Pilgrim was supposed to have left Earth. The same laws this country used to have.”
“The country doesn’t exist; the laws don’t exist. Things change, whether we want them to or not. The world changed against our will. We tried to resist, but couldn’t. We survive the only way we know how.”
“This isn’t the only way to survive. Fear isn’t the only answer.”
“Don’t you think that other ways have been tried? Maybe they have the old laws to the east? One day, we’ll connect both sides of this land again, and then we’ll find out.” He smiled. “I hope you’ll be here with us. With me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? Where am I going to go?”
“You aren’t a prisoner, Natalia.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “I believe that about as much as I believe you’re a god. If I’m not a prisoner, let’s turn around. I can go back to the Pilgrim and bury my husband.”
“You can’t go back. There’s no way to get inside, as much as King wants to. At least not yet.”
“You haven’t mentioned Hayden,” she said. “Not one word. Not even an apology for leaving him to die. He was as good of a man as they come. You could learn something from his example.”
A familiar pain in the pit of her stomach began to sprout again. She held her breath, choking it back, hoping her eyes would stay dry this time. She had cried over Hayden whenever she had been alone. She didn’t want to cry in front of Ghost. She didn’t want him to see her weak.
“He loved you, that much is clear. He was an enemy of King. I gave him the best chance he was going to get. If he’s like us, if he’s a god, he may have survived. That’s what gods do.”
Natalia stared at him for a moment, her sadness turning to anger. A god? Hayden was a great man, a wonderful husband, but he wasn’t a god any more than Ghost was.
“Oversergeant!” Mable shouted from the driver’s seat. “I’ve got something!”
19
“WHAT DO YOU SEE?” Oversergeant Grimly shouted back.
Natalia looked away from Ghost, back out the slit in the transport’s armor. She caught the bottom of the huge soldier’s feet as he hopped onto the top of their vehicle for a better look.
“I don’t know exactly how to read this,” the woman replied. “There’s a blob coming from the north.”
“Distance?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grepping hell, bitch, are you good for anything?”
“Go screw yourself, Grim, this piece of shit equipment has never been functional before.”
“Natalia, can you read it?” Ghost asked.
She turned her head back to the front. She could see Mable’s heavy shoulder jutting out from the driver’s seat and the edge of the tracking display in front of it. She was tempted to say she couldn’t, to refuse to help. What good would dying like this do?
She unbuckled herself from her seat, using the top of the truck to maneuver to the cockpit. Mable looked over at her when she entered, scowling at her appearance.
“I don’t need your help,” she said.
“You’re doing a great job,” Natalia replied sarcastically, biting back as strongly as it was given. That was the only way to earn respect among the Scrappers. “Let me look.”
She settled over the woman’s shoulder, staring at the display. It showed a red blob ahead of them, with lines indicating the distance.
“Three kilo - miles.” She had to stop herself from announcing the wrong measurement. While the Pilgrim had settled on the Metric system, these people were still using Imperial.
“Shit,” Grim replied. “Any idea how fast they’re moving, sweetie?”
Natalia clenched her fist at the word. She watched the speed of the blob, running the calculations in her head.
“They’re going to get ahead of the bunker before we reach it,” she shouted back.
There was an extended silence from outside.
“Okay, you meatsacks!” Grimly shouted. “All eyes and guns to the north. We’ve got incoming. Be ready to switch to lances; we don’t want to burn up all our ammo on the first encounter.”
The other Scrappers didn’t reply. It was assumed that if Grimly was speaking, they were listening. If they didn’t, they would die even if they made it through the trife’s assault. The Oversergeant would see to that.
She knew they were listening when they all started moving forward, running up ahead of the truck.
“Haito, you on the turrets?” Grimly shouted.
“Affirmative,” the Scrapper replied. She was the only other person in the transport, a wiry young girl who was in charge of the guns on top of the machine.
“Make sure you don’t shoot any of us. Except for Goins. He’s an asshole.”
Haito smiled as if the statement was a joke, though with Grimly it was hard to tell if he was kidding or not.
Natalia kept her eyes on the tracker, watching as the blob of something drew closer and closer, their convoy staying on the move and heading right into it. There was no guarantee the mass was made up of trife - the tracker didn’t differentiate. But what the hell else would be out here?
She could feel the tension growing as each second ticked by. Her heart began to pulse stronger and quicker, her body shivering with a surge of adrenaline. She glanced toward the back of the transport when she caught Ghost’s movement out of the corner of her eye. He was removing his white jacket, revealing a belt of knives beneath. He reached up to open one of the hatches on the top of the vehicle, looking back at her and nodding before pulling himself up and out and sealing the door behind him. She was as safe inside the armored truck as she was going to get.
“It’s trife all right,” Grim shouted. “Shit, there’s a lot of the bastards.” He laughed. “I guess they’ve been holding some extra all-night orgies. Mable, all stop! Scrappers, three rounds each with the rifles, one blow through with the revolvers, and then switch to lances.”
“Oversergeant, we can’t lance that-”
The crack of a gunshot silenced the complaint.
“Haito, you don’t have to worry about shooting Goins for me anymore,” Grimly said. “Any of you other greppers want a guaranteed death?”
Natalia looked at the tracker, and then looked up. The truck was at rest in a small ravine between two splits in the ground, essentially protected from three sides. She could see a few Scrappers standing on the ground on both sides of them; rifles aimed and ready to fire, waiting for Grimly’s permission to let loose. A cloud of dust was rising ahead of them, a dark splotch visible beneath it. The trife were charging toward them in a group a few hundred strong. They only had twenty soldiers in their group. How could those be good odds?
“Haito cut down the front line!” Grimly shouted.
It was followed by a whirring sound, and then the truck started to vibrate,
a thumping rattle sounding from the top.
In front of them, the trife started to die.
They tumbled to the ground in a line, the rounds from the turrets cutting them to pieces. Natalia watched as they fell for a few seconds, and then gasped when they started breaking to the left and right, leaping into the air in a solid mass and covering nearly forty meters in one powerful jump.
Haito tried to track them, the two turrets able to rotate independently, but the sides of the ravine preventing the angle of fire from going too wide. They had seen where the destruction was coming from and had quickly determined how to avoid it.
“Get ready!” Grimly shouted.
The ground started to rumble. Not quaking from heavy pounding of the goliaths, but rippling with the lighter, more numerous footfalls of the demons.
“Fire!” Grimly said.
Twenty rifles triggered at once, an even number on both sides of the divided trife. A dozen creatures fell. A second crackle sounded, and more of them fell. A third and final volley from the rifles, and then silence as the Scrappers switched to revolvers and the trife continued to close.
“Here they come!” Grimly cried.
The trife were almost to their position, spreading apart as they drew near. A number of them jumped again, launching into the sky in powerful leaps that closed the gap in a hurry. Natalia shifted her head to the left, looking past Mable. Bullets launched from revolvers, knocking down trife after trife. Six rounds, twenty guns. Even if every shot were a kill, it would still leave half of the creatures alive.
Not every shot was a kill. A third at most, the demons only a few meters away and closing fast.
“Lances!” Grimly said.
The trife arrived. One of them slammed hard into the front of the truck, hitting the windshield and punching at it with sharp claws. They bounced off the hardened glass, and then an electrified spear dropped from the top of the truck and pierced its skull, killing it instantly. A shout followed, and a Scrapper rolled down from the truck to the ground ahead of them, a trife biting hard into the soldier’s neck.