Nexis

by A. L. Davroe

  I glance up at Gus. “If this is the last quilt square then we can just leave now. We don’t have to fight this thing.” I yell, wanting to be heard over the dragon’s trumpeting and the howling and screaming of man and animal.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “No,” I argue, amazed that he hasn’t put two and two together yet. “If Opus has a jump stone we can jump right to the Dominion. We don’t need the reward money.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Gus says, so low I can hardly hear him. “It’s about doing what’s right. These people need our help, Elle. We can do this; they can’t.”

  I turn away and search the sky for Glockmock the Terrible. Overhead, the sky is choked with gray ash and black smoke, a thick ring of it tumbling forth from the head of the dragon as it hisses and lunges. It has landed now and even though we’re still a bit of a distance away, I can see its shoulders and long neck above the trees. In an instant, its neck arches downward and its head comes into view. Everything about it is elongated and angular. Its head is a wedge adorned with blades of black spike, greenish scale, and yellow teeth that are taller than I am. When it opens its mouth and belches a storm of flames, they whip overhead, stealing the air and searing my lungs with sulfurous poison. I cough, despite the distance and my armor, surprised that the protective bubble around the vivacycle can withstand the toxic stuff.

  Gus leans into the vivacycle and guides it under the thick canopy of a tree. I hear the others follow and kill their engines. We all gather in a cluster, protected by the trees, and survey the situation.

  Glockmock is half perched on the collapsed roof of a barn; the only things holding up the building are the flaming supports. For a moment, the beast leans backward on his haunches as if taking a large breath. I can see its black underbelly glinting greenish in the firelight as it fills with air. Then it shoots forward, belching another spout of flames. A house goes up in an orange-white explosion. I can hear the people within howling in agony as they are instantly incinerated. The door bursts outward and a woman, her dress and hair alight, comes spilling out. Her frantic shrieks draw the monster’s attention, and Glockmock lurches forward again, its massive claws crumbling the edge of the barn.

  Its head darts into view, an arrowhead built from nightmares, and its powerful jaws snap down on the woman, silencing her cries and dousing the flames. When it draws back, the only thing remaining of the woman is half a bare leg and a slippered foot.

  I feel Nadine’s fingers digging into my arm. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Me too, I think. I glance at Gus. He’s staring hard at Glockmock, the dragon’s fire gleaming in his predatory eyes. When the dragon moves, his eyes move with it. Following the monster’s thick tail as it thrashes back and forth; upsetting carts and barrels; knocking children to the ground and smothering them under its weight; tracing the wings as they open, creaking like old leather and beating against the smoke and the fire, spreading it faster; raining ash upon the world. He flinches when the jaws snap, turns his head away when the fire becomes too hot to stare at, cowers only slightly when the dragon bugles in triumph, making the world tremble and deafening us all.

  I take deep panicked breaths, trying to think through the ringing in my ears. I have no idea what to do with this thing. “What are you planning?” I demand, dread in my distant voice.

  Gus glances down at me, his face hard and determined. “We’re going to kill that thing if it’s the last thing we do.”

  I turn away from him, take in the monster once more, and swallow. “How?”

  I feel his hand land on my shoulder and give it a squeeze. “Like we always do. Together.”

  I bite my lip to keep it from trembling and nod. “Okay.”

  “We can do this. Just think about the consequences if we don’t.” With that he drops his hand from my shoulder and strides out from under the trees. The flames catch in the reflective material of his armor; the fox on his back seems to writhe in delight, dancing in its own fox fire.

  If we don’t kill this creature, who will? How long will it terrorize this playing field? He’s right. We have to do this. I hold my breath and step out behind him. I can feel the others do the same. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Gus stops in the clearing. He’s about a hundred paces farther ahead than any of us, and it’s him the dragon sees first. A massive clawed hand disengages itself from the smoking rubble of the barn, causing the rest of the structure to collapse with an implosion of creaking wood and sparks.

  Woomph.

  Talons open wide and the dragon’s hand darts toward Gus, whistling as it comes. I scream, but Gus ducks and rolls leaving the creature to slap the earth with a rumble. Gus comes up on one knee and fires at the arm, taking a sizable chunk out of a spike. A small dribble of black blood oozes from the stump where the spike used to be. The dragon lets out a howl of annoyance and sweeps the arm forward, bowling Gus over.

  My breath goes icy in my lungs. Chaos ensues. Someone shoots from the left. Bang. Then Opus’s machine gun comes from the right. Ratta-tat-a-tat. The dragon is distracted, its body twitching one way and then the next as if trying to decide who to attack first. It rears back on its haunches and bellows, belching fire across the town square, sending another building up in flames. Gus gets up and runs to my left, shooting rapid-fire as he goes.

  I can’t move. The world did not slow. Gus was in danger, and the world did not slow. Everyone is in danger. I am in danger. The world is not slowing. There are no threads. I’m paralyzed, too terrified by what this means. There are no threads. I am alone.

  Something in the distance whips forward. I see it, but my mind is moving too slowly to register. It hits me hard, knocking me onto my butt and pinning me down, dragging me through the mud and ash. Spikes crack into my armor, pierce my skin. I cry out because they sting worse than anything I’ve ever felt.

  Someone yells my name. Bullets begin raining down on the dragon’s tail. It lifts the muscular thing and moves to swipe it at the one firing at it, but he ducks under it, careens into me, and knocks me into a roll before the tail can backlash at me. I know Gus’s body above mine just by the feel, and I know he’s putting himself in danger to keep me out of it.

  Come on, Ella get in the game. He sits up to shoot once more, and I stumble away from him, holding my ribs because they still burn from the spikes, but needing to distance myself until I can get my bearings. I lean against a small outbuilding that, even among the terrible smells Glockmock is raising, still stinks of sewage. Morden is behind the dragon, firing up into its vital regions. Opus is in the trees, firing at his chest. Guster is expertly taking out row after row of spikes, making the dragon bleed and thrash in pain, but it doesn’t seem like enough damage. I can’t see Nadine, but every so often I can hear a fresh explosion of bullets rain upon the dragon’s impenetrable flank. Useless.

  The dragon is thrashing and gnashing, stomping on buildings and digging ravines into the earth, spouting flame and roaring into the smoke-filled afternoon. In the few seconds I watch, it knocks down Morden, one spike going deep into his thigh. He cries out in pain. Nadine screams. Gus shoots to cover him as he crab-walks backward into the relative cover of the forest and Nadine’s arms. The tail thrashes out, slamming hard into the trees, breaking them, snapping them down upon my friends. I can hear Nadine and Morden crying out.

  I call for the threads. Demand them to come. Plead with desperation, but I get nothing. I have to do this without them. I can do this without them. I hope. But what am I going to do? All this is useless. We’re doing nothing but making the dragon even angrier.

  Gus screams. Screams for me and for him and for everyone. He gives up ducking and rolling. Instead, he stands tall and proud, firing like a madman at one generalized spot, hoping he can break through.

  The dragon goes relatively still, as if noticing what Gus is trying to do. The head arcs away from the trees where Morden and Nadi
ne are trapped, and he turns a narrowed eye on Gus. In the moment that its dark, abysmal eye catches sight of Gus, I get an idea.

  I run at it. And as I run the revolver manifests in my hand. I come up behind Gus who holds the monster’s attention so well that even as its head advances forward, jaws opening wide to snap the man I love in half, it doesn’t see me streaking toward it, doesn’t see me lift my arms and take aim.

  Bang.

  For a moment, I think the world has gone slow motion—that the threads have finally come. But no. The dragon’s eye explodes on impact, showering Gus and me with thick, gross-smelling fluid. The dragon screams in pain, and a white membrane wobbles over the wrecked mess of the eye but, before it can raise its head to escape, I shoot it again in the same spot.

  Bang.

  And again.

  Bang.

  I empty the barrel in rapid succession, not hearing or registering or caring. I just know I have to make the shots count because the threads aren’t there. And I’m not losing. I can’t die. Gus can’t die. I can’t lose what I have here. I refuse.

  Someone grabs my arm. I flinch away and continue squeezing the trigger even though I have no more bullets.

  “It’s dead.”

  The words are far away, distant. I can hardly hear them over the thundering of my heart, of my own panicked yelling, of the memory of screams and bullets and dragon howls. It will not kill Gus. It will not kill my friends. I’ve come too far to let this stupid dragon ruin my quest. Someone kicks my legs out from under me, and I land hard on the ground. Gus’s body is on top of mine, wrestling the gun out of my hand, trapping my arms down. He slaps my wrist. The armor goes, the revolver goes. There’s only us and the blood and the tears I didn’t know I was crying.

  Gus touches my face. “He’s dead, Elle. He’s dead. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  I’m shaking even with his body holding mine. Sobbing. Scared. My wide, panicked eyes jerk back and forth, searching. I find the beast’s head just beyond Gus’s concerned face, its yellow brain and black blood oozing out of the empty hole that had once been its eye and dribbling down its cheek. The Reaper appears.

  Shink.

  He’s dead. I killed Glockmock the Terrible without the threads. I let out a nervous breath of relief and then I roll over onto my stomach and throw up.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Post-American Date: 6/23/232

  Longitudinal Timestamp: 2:37 p.m.

  Location: Free Zone, Central Dominion; Nexis

  Just as the Damascus Knights leap at us, we disintegrate. As we reappear, huffing and sweating on the jump pad in the Central Dominion, we all collapse with a collective sigh.

  I bend over, gasping for breath and trying to calm my slamming heart. “That was too close.”

  Nadine says, “Let’s not stay to collect the reward next time.”

  “Oh, but it’s so worth it,” Morden says breathlessly, giggling to himself. “We’re friggin’ rich.”

  I lift my eyes and look at Gus. He coughs out a laugh and shakes his head. “You tired of running yet?” he asks.

  I scoff. “Yeah, I’m getting there.”

  He stands up and looks around. “I vote that when we’re done we spend all that reward money on an early retirement. I’m done questing.”

  “Amen to that.” Opus mutters. “After this, I’m going off on my own.”

  Opus’s bold declaration hangs in the air for a long, tense minute before Nadine forces a smile and says, “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” Opus says flatly. “I’m done with all of you. Especially him.” He points into Gus’s face. “All he does is lead us into unnecessary danger. And for what? His own ego. I’m done.”

  Gus’s expression remains stoic. He doesn’t say a word, just turns and prowls away from the platform. Morden steps after him, but I hold out a hand. “Give him a minute.”

  “That was unnecessary,” Nadine growls.

  “I only said what we’re all thinking,” Opus hisses.

  I cross my arms. “I wasn’t thinking it.”

  Opus’s snarling expression turns on me. “You’re just as bad as he is. You enable him by humoring his fancies when you’re supposed to be the voice of reason, supposed to be sousing out the danger to us. It’s you who will really lead us all to our deaths, Ellani, mark my words.”

  His comment is like a slap in the face. “That’s not true.” I glance at Nadine and Morden. “Is it?”

  Both avoid my eyes, but Morden is brave enough to say, “You can be very blind when it comes to Guster, Ella.” Then he quickly adds, “Not that I blame you.” He touches Nadine’s arm. “I understand.”

  “Oh,” I say, voice tight. “Well. It’s good to know how everyone feels.” I try to force myself not to feel their judgment, but it’s hard. I had always assumed we were all on equal ground, all loved and accepted one another. “Why did you follow us then?”

  Nadine steps forward and takes my hand. “Because this is your quest, Ella.” I look into her eyes, confused. Smiling, she nods. “And we trust you to keep us safe.”

  I slump my shoulders. That’s such a heavy responsibility.

  Morden steps in front of me and pokes his face in mine. “You okay? You ain’t gonna start bawling like a woman, are you?”

  I lower my hand, balling it into a fist, and frown at him. “No, I’m not. But I might punch you.”

  He grins at me. “Yeah, you’re gonna be okay.” He crosses his arms and glances over to where Gus has slumped down beside a wide open expanse of concrete. “Better go lick your man’s wounds.”

  I roll my eyes. “He just needs some time to collect himself.” I know Gus well enough by now to give him space when he needs it.

  “Well, we don’t have that kind of time, so don’t wait too long.” Morden turns away. “So, we’re here. Now what?”

  “I don’t know,” Opus says. “I’m not sure where to look for the Chamber.”

  “If I had a treasure,” Nadine says, sitting down on the edge of the platform. “I’d put it in the most secure place possible.”

  I nod. “So instead of running from the Knights we’re going to look for them. Is that it?”

  “Excellent,” Opus muses. “It’s an excellent day to die.”

  “We won’t die,” Nadine says. “Ella will use her threads to get us through and save us all.”

  My stomach drops, and I give her an uneasy expression. “Nadine, I wouldn’t count on that. I don’t even know how to control it.” And I can’t count on it. It has already failed me once.

  She shrugs. “I believe in you.”

  Sighing, I turn away from all of them and head off toward Gus.

  As I draw closer I see that he’s sitting, legs dangling, on the edge of a long overhang. Down below is a massive city. The towers are thin thrusting fingers that break an ominous black sky with silver gilding. Below, pods zip along in midair without the aid of hover-ways, and people walk through glass tubes. They look like Aristocrats, all Modified and Altered and Primped. They even wear the same Neo-Baroque style of clothing. But the city is not like Evanescence. There is no dome here, and a wall is built around the building in the center of the city, not around the city as a whole. In lieu of a security wall, the city has a massive body of glinting black water that stretches in every direction.

  “Wow, this place is crazy,” I whisper.

  Gus looks over his shoulder and forces a smile.

  I try to return the smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Can I sit?”

  He turns back to the city and nods. As I sit down and edge closer to the opening, he says, “So, this is what humanity would have looked like had it not destroyed itself.”

  I cock my head. “Is it?”

  “I’ve seen pictures of futuristic cities. Those buildings have t
hat same look to them.”

  I glance down at the people again. “A different city, but the people are exactly the same.” Why would Dad make the center of his game this place? Why not an ideal Utopia like what he would have wanted? A model of a city as a “good” humanity might have made it?

  “People don’t change, Elle. The places we live might, but we’re fundamentally always the same destructive force we’ve always been.”

  I think about that for a moment. “Utopia on the outside, an implosive, self-destructive entity on the inside. It’s not an onion at all; this game is the earth as it should have been. This is the molten core, Hell.”

  Gus tips his head. “You think they’re as bad as that?”

  I frown. “No, probably not. I mean, I guess I’m just trying to find answers where there aren’t any.”

  After a moment of silence, Gus says, “Hey Elle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This might end badly.”

  I lift my hand and feign interest in my cuticles. “I know.”

  “We might not live through this.”

  I close my eyes and nod.

  “I want to see you,” he says in a rush. “Outside. At home.”

  I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I want to see him, too. I want to be with Gus here and there. But then I realize that here is not like there. Our entire world is different, made restrictive by Aristocratic rules. Even if I see Gus in Real World, there’s no guarantee that we could be together. In fact, I know we can’t. I drop my hand to my knee and squeeze the flesh there. In Real World, these legs don’t exist. I don’t exist. I have no rights, I have no freedom. I couldn’t see him if I wanted to; I’m still a prisoner. Gus doesn’t deserve that kind of disappointment. And frankly, neither do I.

  I take a deep rattling breath. “No.” One word. It feels like a death sentence. I refuse to open my eyes. I can’t see his face.