Monster Hunter Siege-eARC

by Larry Correia

  “I don’t remember you being this talkative.”

  “I didn’t like you. Why would we talk? I still don’t like you, I’ve just been…lonely.”

  “No offense taken.”

  “Screw you.” Lococo leaned down and blew on the flame, coaxing it to burn. “Prison, there’s at least conversation. You’re not in your head. This is like solitary confinement, but forever.”

  “Whatever you need to do to get by…So what happened to everybody else?”

  But he wasn’t ready to answer that yet. “Look at all that fire already. You have no idea how happy that makes me. Nothing is ever that easy here. Pass me some sticks.”

  I did. “I’ve got some food. You want some?”

  “Food?” He looked up from the fire, seeming a little confused by the offer. “Food…Yeah. Sure. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten about food. I don’t know if I can eat or not. I can try.”

  Now it was my turn to be confused. “What do you mean? There’s got to be something. You’ve been living off the land.”

  “Heh…Literally.” Lococo shook his shaggy head, seemingly amused at the idea. “Man, living in the real world spoils you. You don’t know yet, do you? No. You haven’t been here long enough yet. When we ran out of supplies, I was starving, but we couldn’t quit moving or we’d die. I just kept going and going, until one day I realized I was still alive but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. There’s no food in this place. The land, it keeps you alive. You’re always hungry, always shaky and weak, but it won’t let you waste away. Oh no. Dying is too easy.”

  I didn’t know what to say. That was awful.

  “When we first got lost, it didn’t take us long to figure out the things that live here eat our fear, the rest of you were still around for that.”

  “The alps, the nightmare feeders, you mean.”

  “Yeah, sure. The little invisible bastards, always there, always watching, and sucking your life away. It’s like they shove a straw in your mind and slurp out whatever it is they live on. Oh, yeah, the fear ones you met in Vegas? We found out they aren’t alone. In this place there’s other things that eat your loneliness, your doubt, sadness, regret…And some of them just want you to be hungry. Always hungry. It’s a win-win. All those alps get fed, you’re miserable in a hundred different ways, but you get to stay alive a little longer. I think they call that a symbiotic relationship.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. It’s your fault I’m here.”

  Ouch.

  “You ever starve, Pitt? I don’t mean, skip a meal and get a tummy ache. I mean, get to where you can feel your own body eating itself?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. It’s shit. At least normally you’d die after a while, but I just keep on going. I don’t know. I think I got so used to it and kind of accept it, the monsters can’t be getting much suffering from me anymore…I think when you’re all wrung out, that’s when this place lets you die.”

  Maybe the Asakku weren’t normally cannibals. They might have just been here long enough that they’d become that desperate. I reached into my pack and found a rubber meal pack. I extended it toward him. “Have some rebellion.”

  He studied the pack suspiciously. “Beef stroganoff.”

  “It’s better than it sounds.”

  He took it. “I got so hungry I tried eating dirt for a while. It didn’t work.” He ripped the corner off the pack and squeezed a little bit of food directly into his mouth. “Oh man…” It was like he’d forgotten how to chew. He held it there for a long time, grimacing like the unfamiliar sensation was hurting his taste buds. “That’s way better than dirt.” He squirted a little more in.

  “Yeah, well take it easy.” I remembered reading about starving concentration camp victims dying because having food again was too much of a shock to the system. He wasn’t nearly that emaciated—this place had to keep you fit enough to keep running for your life after all—but it still couldn’t be good for him to overdo it. “You haven’t eaten real food in like six months. It would suck to survive the Nightmare Realm to die from a stroganoff overdose.”

  Lococo gave me an incredulous look. “I’ve been gone half a year, huh? Way to break it to me easy.”

  “Sorry.” I sat down on one of the bus seats. The cushion was long gone. The metal creaked under my weight, but it didn’t break. “It is what it is.”

  “How come you’re by yourself anyway?”

  “The gate wouldn’t let anybody else through. We had a whole squad wander through the mist, but I’m it.”

  “What makes you special?”

  “I drew the short straw. It’s a long story.”

  Lococo snorted. “I’d hate for it to cut into my busy social calendar.”

  “This is going to sound nuts, but some powerful entities pick certain people to be their champions, fight the forces of evil, save the world, that sort of thing. I’m one of them. I guess it’s got some perks.”

  He lay down on his back next to the fire and just kept slowly chewing on the MRE, lost in thought. I was sure he’d talk about the others when he was ready. The man had been through enough that I wasn’t going to start pushing him now. Lococo seemed relatively sane, all things considered, but that could be a façade that would crack under pressure. I took my boots off so I could dry my socks by the fire. There might be alps who fed off of suffering, but the ones who lived off of blisters and foot pain were going to be out of luck.

  Lococo was staring up, watching the smoke curl around the branches. “The last time I saw the other Hunters was when we got attacked by a bunch of weird creatures. I didn’t recognize them, we must not have gotten to that part in training yet, but VanZant said they were Fey.”

  That was a really broad category of monsters. They may have shared a similar origin now lost to the mists of time, but Fey were a diverse bunch. We grouped everything in there from crafty Baba Yaga to slimy Vodyanoy, to the super powerful royal courts which wielded magic as complacently as we used electricity. MHI had dealt with a lot of Fey over the years, and with only a couple of notable exceptions, most of those dealings hadn’t gone well.

  “Did VanZant say what kind of Fey they were?”

  “No time. They came out of the sky riding these big horse-bug monster things. They ran us down. Fast…We never had a chance. We were low on ammo. They were wearing armor, like old time knights, only pitch-black, hideous like nothing you’ve ever seen. They could have killed us easy, but they didn’t. They wanted us alive. They beat us down or threw nets over us. I got away…Hid…Not my proudest moment, but there wasn’t nothing I could do but watch. They tied everybody up and dragged them off.”

  Unlike Lococo, I’d gone through all of MHI’s monster familiarization training and then some. I knew exactly what that description sounded like, and it was bad news. “You know where they were taken?”

  “A fortress made of bone on an island in the sky.”

  I sighed.

  “Don’t worry. There’s stairs.”

  I was too tired to dwell on it now. Stupid tired. The alps who feasted on weariness were going to be stuffed. I couldn’t even begin to estimate how long I’d been here, and I had been marching or running the entire time. It was sleep soon or crash. Going off of my condition and memory, I felt like I’d been up for at least thirty hours, probably more, but with no outside stimuli to peg, it was really hard to tell. No wonder Lococo had lost track of the days.

  It was easy to feel overwhelmed, but I’d made it this far. In the morning—or whatever passed for that here—I’d have a better idea how to accomplish the impossible…To get the rest of our men back from a Wild Hunt.

  Lococo had been quiet so long that I thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he spoke up. “Man, I’ve been here a really long time.”

  “I imagine it’s hard to tell how much time has passed when there’s no night.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Pitt. There may not
be night, but there’s darkness. There’s darkness here plenty, just waiting. Eventually, darkness always falls. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  * * *

  As befitted a land where bad dreams came from, I had the worst nightmares, but I couldn’t tell you what any of them were about. The whole night was just a bizarre fever dream of disjointed imagery.

  When there’s no sunrise and everything sounds the same, you just kind of wake up when you wake up. The fire was out. The ashes weren’t even warm anymore. I’d been out for a while. At least my socks were dry. Lococo hadn’t gone insane and slit my throat in my sleep in revenge for me getting him stuck here, so that was nice too.

  Every muscle was stiff, and I would never shake this chill, but besides that I was actually feeling about as well rested as I could hope. Lococo was sitting in the driver’s seat. That same food pack was on the mossy dash, now half empty, but I hadn’t woken to the sound of violent vomiting, so apparently that was working out for him. He was studying something metallic in the palm of his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  Lococo turned around, then held it up to show me the familiar happy face company logo. It was one of the MHI challenge coins Earl had made. “Harbinger gave it to me. I had it on me when I got stuck here…. Metal. Solid…Good reminder of the real world.” He stuck the small treasure back into his coat. At some point he’d scrubbed the mud off his face, and other than resembling a crazed 1700s fur trapper, was looking like he was doing alright. “How’d you sleep, Pitt?”

  “Other than crammed into a rusty bus while invisible demons torment my dreams? Awesome.”

  “Good. You’re doing better than most. Keep that attitude. The nightmares wrecked everyone else when we first got here. Sleep is when they get your best fear. They like to keep you rattled. Some of the guys really fell apart.”

  “How about you?”

  Lococo didn’t answer.

  I stretched my aching back. I suspected I knew why I’d been fine. The elves called me a Dreamer, but I think that just meant the whole weird psychic Chosen thing worked better when I was in that state. In fact, my biggest disappointment on this trip was that I’d not heard anything from any of my regular ghostly advisors yet. Mordechai Byreika would have probably given me some helpful, if cryptic, advice. Bubba Shackleford the same, only he’d probably tell me to toughen up in the process. And Sam Haven? He’d probably just go fight the Fey himself.

  Normally the closer I was to death, the better the reception. Or another way to look at it, the further I was from regular human reality, the more likely I was to hear from the dead, and I’d left good old normal Earth way back in the rear view mirror this time. Sam had told me in Vegas that the rules were blurry here, so even our dead could join in and actively participate in the fight. But so far, nothing.

  And that was really concerning me.

  I started putting my boots on. “How far is this fortress from here?”

  “Distance here is kind of hard to—”

  “Yeah, I know. Everything is all weird and immeasurable.”

  “Well, it don’t help that I don’t have depth perception, on account of only having the one eye…”

  “Never mind.”

  Lococo shrugged. “You asked.”

  “Which way?”

  He pointed up the opposite direction of where I’d come from.

  “I’ve got a cache with some extra equipment and weapons, but it’s way down in the valley by the portal.”

  “Bad move. That’s skinny territory. It’s a miracle they didn’t run into you sooner. We go all the way down to the deep mists, then back up to the broken sky, we’re bound to be seen. From here it’s better to go straight across the fog fence to the death swamp and the skeleton tower.”

  “You couldn’t name any of the landmarks anything happy, could you?”

  “I’m a literal kind of guy.”

  I began gathering my gear so we could head out. I noticed the other Hunter had his hand on the steering wheel and it was shaking badly. Mentally and physically, Lococo was in bad shape. I honestly didn’t know how he’d made it this far. “You know, I could take you to the exit. You go home, then I’d head back up here to get the rest. You’ve been through enough.”

  The driver’s seat creaked as Lococo leaned back, thinking my offer over. “You really want to die that badly?”

  “That’s not plan A.”

  Lococo snarled at me, insulted. “You’re a fool, Pitt. You’ve got access to a guide who’s learned how to survive here, and you’d give up that advantage for what? Pity? Guilt?” For the first time the big man seemed truly disgusted. “That’s pathetic.”

  “I was just making the offer. Take it or leave it.”

  Only Lococo had gotten angry. I must have really offended him. “This is war. You have a resource. You use it.”

  The attitude was pissing me off. “I was trying to show some sympathy. I didn’t know you needed to learn Sun Tzu to get your prison GED.”

  “Prison is a better teacher than any you’ve ever had. You said they chose you to be their champion, but how do they expect you to put up a worthwhile fight if you make decisions based on weakness? You talk about the forces of evil, like you have a clue what that means, but then you go and underestimate them. You disrespect them. Do you really think your enemy is going to allow you the luxury of being soft?”

  I had no logical response to that. It was the same kind of thing Dad had tried to beat into me back when he was trying to train for the end of the world. “Mercy doesn’t make you weak.”

  “If you believe bullshit platitudes like that, they chose poorly. You’re destined to lose. If you expect to win, you’d better be willing to step up and make sacrifices.”

  Maybe it was the aches and pains, the bad sleep, or just this rotten world, but I lost my temper. “I was willing to sacrifice you once already!” It was horrible, but true, and I was simultaneously glad and regretful that I’d said it. “I got the job done. I always get the job done. I gave up a few to save hundreds. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.”

  Lococo just stared at me, stone faced, but slowly a smile formed. It turned into a malicious grin. He began to laugh. “That’s more like it. Maybe you weren’t such a bad choice after all.”

  I picked up my rifle and my pack. If my arms were full I’d be less tempted to punch him in the mouth. “Up yours then. Let’s go kill some Fey.”

  CHAPTER 21

  We hiked for what felt like hours, first down a different slope, and then up a much steeper mountain trail. The grade was killing my legs, but Lococo was confident that he knew the way, and there wouldn’t be any Asakku in this region. Apparently the Fey and Asag’s children didn’t get along. Twice Lococo had seen them run into each other, and both times it had resulted in the Asakku getting slaughtered.

  Occasionally I would play with my ancient Roman pinky ring. It didn’t feel particularly magical or awe inspiring for an artifact, but I could have sworn that I could feel the tiniest of pressure, almost imperceptible, but pushing in the direction of the portal home. Either that or it was all in my imagination.

  Lococo took the lead, his hulking shape looking like a mobile bush. His clothing was tattered rags, and he had laced foliage through all the holes in his jacket. His hood was wreathed in leaves. When he went prone he was pretty much invisible. I’d offered him some of my dry clothes, but he’d turned me down. He had a system that worked. Why mess with it?

  It was quiet except for the rain. All I could smell was damp. This land was actually beautiful. Any of the occasional sweeping vistas would make a nice painting. But that was just to taunt you, because the reality of being here was nothing but perpetual discomfort. We were both breathing hard from the exertion, and when we came across some leaning rocks that would temporarily shelter us from the rain, we took a rest.

  He’d polished off the stroganoff without puking his guts up, so I tossed him another meal pack. “So of you guys, which min
d came up with this awful place?”

  “Pork patties in sauce. Great,” Lococo stated as he read the package. “This place is on me, I think.”

  “I always wanted to die grim and soggy. Thanks for that…But the woods, I thought you were a city boy?”

  “I am. But when I was a kid I spent some time at a juvenile detention center up in northern California. I heard it wasn’t normally that bad, but I lucked out and got there the one year it rained all the time.” He ripped the rubberized pack open and smelled the contents. “This one might be close to dirt.”

  “You can go back to starving. It’s no skin off my nose.” But if he ate it, I didn’t have to carry it anymore. I’d probably regret that eventually. I got out another pack for my lunch.

  “In rain just like this, the guards had us clear brush all day. They said it was to build character. It was a bunch of hood rats and delinquents whining in the mud, moving sticks with their soft little no callus hands.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “I hated that place so much. All I could remember was trees forever and always being cold and damp. So here we go again. Of course it isn’t going to pick our favorite place and make the world into that. That broken sky would be all tropical islands and alien strip clubs. Naw, it picks the worst thing you remember and blows it all out of proportion.”

  If his theory was correct, we really needed to get out of here before the realm switched over to the worst places from my memory, because I really didn’t want to see their take on the Dread Overlord’s endless dimension of madness and suck.

  “My real juvenile facility at least had the sun shine once in a while, but not here. You’ve almost got to admire the alps’ ability to accentuate the bad. They’re like artists who paint with suffering. On the bright side, the skinnies have a hard time keeping their powder dry in the rain, so when they try to shoot you they get a lot of misfires. They could have used my old neighborhood, that was pretty nasty too, but I wouldn’t mind that so much. My pops was in prison and my mom was a druggie, so I learned to get by young. You get to be okay with crime and violence, especially when you’re good at it.” Apparently Lococo was back to rambling because he hadn’t had anyone to talk to for so long. “So this is a glimpse of my youth. What about you, Pitt? You were a killer in the ring, so I’m guessing your life wasn’t too squishy.”