Side Quest

by Christopher Kerns

  “The shark will keep its pattern,” Chu said. “Will not change until it sees something. Because the shark does not change, we must change.”

  They pivoted to a new route—waiting for the creature to curve around the side of a pillar, and then sprinting across the valley’s wide, main stretch of open sand. They made it across just in time for the shark to circle back to the main drag, echo beams rippling from its nose, circle after circle, like a pool of calm water hit with a stone. Mitch looked back to the entrance, impressed at the progress they’d already made. All that stood between them and the door was a few hundred feet of cold, dark sand.

  “We still have time to shoot this thing,” Mitch whispered, pointing up at another weapons platform perched above their heads. “Don’t tell me you’re not even just a little interested in taking this thing out.”

  “I will not kill today. Today I will forgive.”

  “Forgive? What do you mean, forgive?”

  Chu turned to Mitch with a whisper. “I forgive the shark for being a shark. I forgive the shark for being here with me today. Forgiving will bring me release.” She turned back to face the massive creature. “I know if the shark could forgive, it would forgive me, too.”

  The monster circled, carving its path through the spotlights and shadows, whipping its tail as it rounded the corner. Dead eyes searching for something, anything to kill. The graceful, swimming motion took Mitch back—just for a second—to the California coast. The waves, the sea air, the gulls hovering above like model airplanes hung on fishing wire. The surge and release of the ocean. The calm of smooth motion. Forgiveness will bring release. “Never thought of it that way,” Mitch whispered.

  “You should forgive, too.”

  “Right. I’ll work on that.”

  “Forgiving is important. You are not good at this.”

  “Understood.”

  “Fuse,” Chu whispered. “I’m talking about you forgiving Fuse.”

  “Yes, right. I get it. Jesus.”

  They sprinted between the last line of pillars, waiting on the sand shark to finish its loop. A cloud of dust swirled in the creature’s wake, finally settling to reveal the white door standing in front of them, glowing bright in the darkness. Chu stood from her crouched position, jogging out into the open sand, motioning for Mitch to join her.

  “Sneaking was the right choice,” she said, proudly. “Now we will level up. I hope you—”

  Chu’s lecture was interrupted as she rose into the air, the sand falling from a platform under her feet, dripping over each side like waterfalls. Mitch reached out but it was too late—she was flying farther and farther into the air, now hovering above him, standing on a floating platform of sand.

  Mitch quickly realized it wasn’t a platform at all.

  As the creature shook its fins, its two eyes lit up with canary yellow, close enough that Mitch could reach out and run a hand across its humongous jaw. As the sand fell, Mitch saw the emerging form of a giant manta ray—it must have been a hundred feet across—shaking the thick blanket of sand from its fins. Chu was standing on its back, one foot on either side of its spine, unknowingly riding it like a giant surfboard.

  “Chu, don’t move!” Mitch yelled.

  The ray continued to rise, staring down Mitch. Its eyes rolled over, flipping from yellow to red.

  Well, that’s not good.

  With a push of its tail, the ray curved around a pillar, picking up speed and gliding directly at Mitch. Mitch dug his toes into the sand and sprinted back towards the closest weapons platform.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck.

  He ran, dodging pillars as he darted through the structure’s central channel, huffing for breath. The ray followed close on his heels, pushing a wave of air against the back of his neck with each flap of its massive fins.

  He reached the rope ladder leading up to the weapons platform, reaching out for the bottom rung, and jumped—swinging his legs up into the air and pulling up with everything he had. The ray sailed a few inches under his boots as he held on for dear, virtual life. He reached out for Chu as the ray passed below, but she was too far off, now hunched down with one hand planted on the ray’s back, keeping her gaze locked on the ray’s whip-like tail.

  I’m about done sneaking around. Time to go fishing.

  Mitch scurried up the ladder, hand-over-hand, keeping an eye on the ray as it circled back towards him. He pulled himself up over the platform’s edge and found a single loot indicator hovering over a rusty treasure chest. He opened the chest and selected “GRAB ALL INVENTORY” from his menu choices. A long range stalker bow, iron arrows (twenty count), one box of sticky grenades (five count), and one hundred feet of rope filled his inventory. A rising fin flew past the platform’s edge. As the creature pulled up into the air, he could see Chu climbing with it, gliding past him with a slow, upward arc, somehow holding her position on the ray’s back.

  Arrows won’t work against anything this big, and if I throw a grenade from here, it’ll just bounce off. But if I can get grenades to Chu—yeah, that might work.

  Mitch pulled a grenade from the box, making sure its pin was still in place, and sidestepped closer to the edge of the platform. He yelled down to Chu as the ray flew past. “Catch this—stick it to the ray’s back. Then jump.”

  “This will not work,” Chu yelled back. “I am too high. I jump, I die.”

  The ray’s eyes rolled back in the direction of Chu’s voice. Its massive tail flicked out and around its body, sweeping across its back to check for stowaways. But as the tail approached, Chu jumped, timing her leap perfectly, clearing it like she was playing the craziest game of jump rope this, or any other world, had ever seen.

  “Need another idea,” Chu yelled.

  “Maybe try to forgive it?” Mitch yelled back. “Maybe that will help.”

  “You are an asshole,” Chu said, holding onto the ray’s spine as it flew down the length of the hall, her voice echoing off the stone pillars. “Not helpful.”

  He looked down at the rope. The bow. The arrows.

  Sometimes the right thing is the unthinkable thing.

  Mitch flew through his inventory menu, grabbing the items and setting them down at his feet. He tied a quick knot around the arrow and another around the center board on the platform, pulling back with all his weight, cinching both as tight as he could. He plucked the bow from the floor, testing its strength, and notched the arrow. He pulled back and—after a quick, makeshift prayer—released the arrow, sending it flying. The rope uncurled as the arrow flew up and directly at the far pillar holding up the opposite side of the structure. The projectile landed with a firm thunk.

  Mitch tested the rope’s strength with a quick tug, held his breath, and jumped.

  In a serious bout of first-timer’s luck, he’d timed his jump perfectly. As he swung high above the sandy floor, flying in and out of shadows, he arced closer and closer to the ray. He knew if he could sweep in and grab Chu, they could swing to safety, and maybe even have time to toss a sticky grenade or two on their swing back. It was a good plan, he told himself. More importantly, it was the only plan he had.

  The rope creaked and fought under his weight as he swung through the night, cutting through the desert air, the wind whipping his cape behind him. Below him, the ray approached—arching its back and snorting, still trying its damnedest to buck Chu off—flying right under his path. Right into Mitch’s trap.

  This is going to be epic. Unbelievable. One for the ages. Ladies and gentlemen, Spitfire is back.

  Mitch never saw it coming. It hit him, or more accurately, he hit it, as it entered his view out of nowhere, flying in his path from the opposite direction.

  It was the sand shark.

  The giant beast was now the only thing he could see—just the broad side of the shark, glowing with stripes of light, sailing right in front of his face like a passing battleship. Mitch slammed into the side of the monster, losing his grip on impact. He fell back for what seeme
d like forever, the tickle of free fall shooting up his spine, until finally hitting the slope of the sandy floor below. He slid down into the crease of the valley, farther away from Chu with every inch. He watched both enormous monsters passing each other above like a pair of tractor trailers on a two-lane road, with Mitch lying on the center yellow line, holding his breath.

  The sand shark groaned an angry, forceful bellow and twisted left and right, trying to locate the foreign object that had just smacked into its side. Luckily for Mitch, it didn’t have much of a neck, and could only begin a slow, circular turn to double back, echolocation blasts shooting violently from its skull. The manta ray sped its pace and turned as well, with an angle so sharp that its left fin carved at the sand, leaving a deep, smooth trench behind it. Just as the fin hit the sand, Chu ran towards dry land, her sprint morphing into a slide, one leg out front of the other, like a designated hitter trying to stretch a single into a double. She hit the sand and ran to Mitch, extending a hand to help him off the ground. As he regained his feet, sand dripping from every crack, he looked up to see the pair of creatures, one on each side, coming straight down the center of the massive hall at high velocity.

  “Any ideas?” Mitch asked.

  Chu searched the surroundings, taking a few steps back, and put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Sometimes, a leader must get out of the way.”

  The sand shark shouted a furious bellow, sucking in a fresh mouthful of sand and shooting dust out its blowhole, picking up its pace. Its cavernous mouth opened wide, revealing the glowing orange light burning deep in its belly. It had its sights locked on Mitch and Chu. There was no escaping this time.

  “You got anything more helpful for this specific scenario?” Mitch asked, slowly backing away.

  “Mitch!” Chu yelled. “Get out of the way!” She pulled at his arm, whipping him in a half-circle, sending Mitch flying across the sandy floor to the base of a pillar. Mitch looked up to realize Chu hadn’t pulled him away from the sand shark, or even the manta ray. Instead, a volley of blasts came flying out of the dark night, lighting the dark chamber with laser bolts and explosions. Gunfire erupted and blasts sounded as Mitch watched the two monsters reel back, wincing in pain, as the barrage continued.

  “Here, fishy fishy,” Punch’s voice echoed through the canyon.

  Mitch looked back to see their three missing team members, all dressed in different forms of Star of the North avatars, fully armed with layers of weapons hanging from every possible nook and cranny. The three stepped forward in a steady assault, firing everything they had.

  “Uh oh,” Punch spun his pistols across his fingertips and into his palms, firing a piercing round of shots down the center of the chamber. “Looks like somebody found a shitload of guns.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The Last One Out

  “HIT ‘EM with everything we’ve got!” Punch screamed, virtual spit flying from the corners of his mouth.

  Mitch sprang to his feet as Punch, Dozer, and Fuse lit up the sky with destruction, like the grand finale at the best goddamned Fourth of July picnic you’ve ever been invited to. Mitch rolled out of the blast zone to the safety of the nearest pillar, Chu close behind, as the rest of the team advanced with heavy steps, leaning into the recoil of their attack.

  Dozer fired away with the new light in her eyes shining off both barrels of her double-barreled shotgun, complete with a grenade launcher perched on top. Fuse held a grenade in one hand and fired a laser rifle with the other, the barrel glowing white with heat against a set of blue LEDs running up the side. Punch kept his pistols firing, his aim tracking well ahead of the creatures as they dodged behind pillars and behind walls.

  The attack sprayed out a river of destruction, causing the sand shark and manta ray to peel off in opposite directions, carving away from the Nefarious team. Most of the damage was at the hands of Dozer, who was soaking up every second of the fight—her face lit with the glow of gunfire, her mouth curled up in the happiest snarl you’ve ever seen.

  Punch mixed up his weapon choice after every empty magazine, even throwing in an occasional grenade, switching effortlessly between an array of pistols and rifles. “So many flavors,” he yelled. “Must taste them all.”

  But despite the team’s onslaught, the health meters hovering over each beast showed only a sliver off their original levels. Fuse holstered his pistols and darted over to Mitch’s pillar, pressing his back against the wall. He pulled at his vest, grabbed two grenades, and snuck a look around the corner.

  “Didn’t expect to you see again,” Mitch said over the echoing gunfire.

  “As usual, you don’t see the signal through the noise,” Fuse said, turning back to his old friend.

  “Whose idea was it?” Mitch asked. “To come back for us?”

  “Team decision. But I may have been the first to recommend the strategy.” He turned around the pillar, getting a few more shots in as the sand shark bellowed in the distance. “I’m sorry, Mitch. Red Code, the Red Battle—it was my fault. I helped build that thing, and I should have told you ... should have told you everything. What can I say? I made a mistake.”

  “It was a dick move.”

  “I agree with your assessment,” Fuse nodded. “Coming back to save you is, logically, the least I could do.”

  “You two about done with your makeout sesh over there?” Punch yelled. “Truth is we love you, Mitch. Always have. Also, we couldn’t figure out how to level up and get out of here by ourselves.”

  “That, too, may have factored into the equation,” Fuse said.

  “Can we stop with the group hug?” Dozer yelled, hurling a rifle in Mitch’s direction.

  The weapon flew in a perfect arc across the sea of bullets and blasts, landing in his hands, solid and square. As it entered his inventory—a Pegasus 2245 Rifle with five hundred and fifty rounds—it felt like a little slice of home. Mitch gripped the chrome, feeling the weapon’s weight, reloading the magazine to full capacity.

  He studied each team member’s position, their movement, their weapon choice. They’d need to up their game to defeat a boss as big as the sand shark, not to mention the seriously pissed off manta ray. They had the pieces to get there, he figured, but it all needed to come together.

  “Okay, Nefarious Five, regroup,” Mitch shouted. “Don’t worry about the sand shark, keep your focus on the manta ray. Fuse, get some grenades in the air. Punch, pick a weapon and stick with it. Dozer, concentrate your fire, you’re landing shots but not enough.” He cycled through his inventory, finding the bow and remaining arrows, and tossed them to Chu. “Chu—this will have to do for now. Jung shim jung gi.”

  Chu nodded with a hint of a smile. She kneeled behind her pillar, raising the bow up to her line of sight and pulling back an arrow. She held her frame still and let her shot fly, sending it dead center into the ray’s left eye. The impact hit with a burst of white light, sending the ray flailing and its health meter clicking down a few notches. She slung another, firing again—another direct hit.

  Without hesitation, all fire from the group turned towards the ray, sending it scurrying for cover behind the closest pillar. Its health meter pinged down. 70%. 65%. 55%.

  “Come back around, meet me on the far side!” Mitch yelled to Fuse. “We’ll flank it.”

  The two ran across the center of the valley, keeping their fire on the ray as it cowered in the back corner, bumping against the stone wall and searching for a hole, a seam, any place to hide. The ray’s health was down to 20% and falling fast.

  “Keep it coming,” Mitch said, firing as he and Fuse approached the ray, side by side. “Shouldn’t be much—”

  The ray turned towards Mitch and Fuse, its health now at 15%, and its red eyes angry and focused. It was no longer running, no longer searching for a way out.

  It had flipped from flight to fight.

  The ray whipped its tail and sped towards the two, dwarfing them with its wingspan as it swooped closer and closer. Mitch raised his rif
le to fire, hearing only a hollow click. An inventory indicator popped up in his display, printed in red instead of the regular green. Zero rounds remaining.

  “Get out of there, Mitch,” Fuse yelled. “I’ve got this.”

  Mitch didn’t stop to consider his options, he just ran, sprinting for dear life. Fuse’s footsteps were close behind. Every few feet, over the sound of his heart pounding through his eardrums, Mitch could hear something hit the sand.

  “What are you doing?” Mitch yelled back.

  “If that asshole’s going to follow us,” Fuse huffed, “We’re gonna leave him more than just footprints.”

  “Up here!” Dozer yelled down, her head peeking out past the ledge of a weapons platform.

  Mitch lunged for the bottom rung of the ladder and climbed. He felt a tingling on the hairs of his neck, like something was hovering right behind him, but shrugged it off, just kept moving. After finally reaching the edge of the wooden platform, he pulled himself up, rolling across the wooden slats.

  A series of explosions blew him a few feet further, the blasts scorching his legs from below as he rolled, finally finding himself at Dozer’s feet. Mitch crawled back to the edge, looking down to find the ray had crash-landed deep into the sand, its nose buried, its tail still. Mitch saw a loot indicator hovering over the beast’s enormous corpse, and breathed a sigh of relief, flashing a thumbs up down to Fuse.

  “No time to post-game this yet,” Dozer said, reaching down to pick Mitch off the platform with a single hand, her rifle still ready in the other. “So don’t go spraying any champagne. Still got the big one to go.”

  “That shark is ridiculous,” Punch yelled from the far side of the valley, continuing to fire. He was hitting the mark, but still without much progress. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the sand shark’s thick armor, a few deflecting off the stone pillars, others deep into the sand. “I’m not getting anything through. Armored up on the outside, but I’m sure she’s just a sweetheart on the inside—just like you, Doze.”