Dusk Mountain Blues

by Deston Munden

  ​Drifter took a step forward as he heard Major Debenham approach through the broken wall. He let in a deep breath. This one’s gonna hurt. Resting his tense muscles as best he could, he prepared for what came next. Clothes and bandages ripped apart from his body. His bones cracked and sputtered underneath his skin, ripping open wounds and burns. He howled, roared, thrashed as he expanded. He felt himself fill the room, his body smashing through the bookcases and tearing paintings from the wall. His size alone split the room in half, creating a wall between him and the rest of his people. He won’t have another. He can’t have another.

  Willing himself to move, he stepped forward, his massive lizard body only half covered by the black exoskeleton. Splatters of blood splashed onto the ground but he managed stay upright and conscious. He huffed, long lizard tongue sweeping on the ground. The taste of fabric came as a relief after all that.

  ​“There’s my monster,” Debenham shouted from the wreckage. He ducked through the hole he made, white dust all over that fancy blue coat and gold leaf insignia. His sleeves and pants were ripped to the elbows and knees, revealing his massive, sleek metal limbs. “I was wondering when you would show me. My, you’re a big one. Looks like Dr. Eorthorn’s DNA research hasn’t gone completely extinct. The scientists will have a field day with cutting you up.”

  ​“I ain’t letting you go and I ain’t going anywhere.” Drifter slammed his massive claws into the ground.

  ​“Let.” The Major gave his signature laugh, warm and fuzzy like the sound of a favorite uncle laughing at a little kid’s joke. “Let. It makes it sound like you have a choice in the matter.”

  ​Drifter heard him coming this time and reacted; he flung up his tail. The ’borg’s speeding fist slammed against him, coming to a cold stop. Drifter swiped at him with a claw, missing his now small form by an inch. He was fast. Faster than anything he had seen before. His size should’ve been a strength in a small area; turns out, it was another thing that the Major could use against him.

  Debenham sped around, landing blow after blow with his fists. The Major didn’t have a weapon ’cause he was a weapon. Drifter felt the punches growing in strength with every strike. All he could do was watch and learn and understand. Everything had its limit. Predators filled their bellies or went home hungry if they hadn’t learned. Watch ’im. Give them an opening. Surprise ’im.

  ​Major Debenham ducked in to his right, jumping off the wreckage of a bookshelf with a small burst from an odd device on his calf. He came in hard, blasting him with powerful punch to the stomach. Drifter felt the pain rippling through his body, but he steeled himself to stay upward.

  The Major didn’t let up. He hopped up and down, bursting with small whistles as he traded blows with a beast much taller than him - but cramped into a small space. Up. Punch. Down. Jump. Over and over. Drifter watched, eyes watering from the pain.

  Now.

  He slashed with his claws in wide arc, swatting he man out of the air and then catching him with his tongue. He pulled the major towards his jaws.

  ​He never had the taste for eating people. Didn’t have the stomach for it. Didn’t mean that he wouldn’t if he had to.

  ​The Major, for the first time, lost his smile. He squirmed and writhed in the grip of Drifter’s slimy tongue. The acid from his saliva ate away at the Major’s exposed legs, melting the metal with every second. Fear rose in those deceptively kind eyes; soon it was replaced by a cold rationality. Seconds before he reached Drifter’s teeth, he rose up one of his arms.

  His arm hissed, breaking open and folding back, revealing a massive barrel of what looked to be the barrel of a cannon. Dang.

  It was too late for Drifter to react - all he saw was a bright light, and then a pain like nothing he’d ever felt before shot through his left eye. He howled, toppling over and losing all grip on the Major’s leg. He heard the man crash to the ground. Didn’t care really. The pain was far too great to find a care in the whole dang galaxy.

  ​“And the recruits thought my arm cannon was dumb. Told them all those video games were good for ya.”

  ​Drifter growled at the man’s jovial words; he focused on the man’s weary footsteps instead. The acid on his leg did its work. The clunk of his walk heavily favored one side, meaning he couldn’t jump or run like he had before. Effectively, he was crippled. Whether for a short time or a long time, it didn’t matter. Well, it mattered a little bit; but The Major didn’t need his legs to incinerate Drifter with a laser from afar.

  “Time’s up, old boy,” he heard the Major say. He choked down the pain from his bleeding, dead eye and focused on the sounds and smells. The Major’s heavy footsteps, favoring one leg. His cheerful voice. His thick breathing. A light buzzing hum.

  This was gonna be the end if he didn’t do something. Drifter’s good eye, blurry from the pain radiating in his skull, caught the sight of the blue light again. Angry electricity snapped and crackled. This was gonna be it. This was gonna be the end if he didn’t act now. Y’think you got me, boy. Think again.

  He whipped his long tongue, spraying an entire arc of vibrant green acid. The Major yelped, having no choice but to block as best he could. He danced back and the acid ate away at his arm and shoulder, melting through his uniform and burning what skin he hadn’t replaced with metal.

  All offense was lost in that second. That was all they needed. The opening that they were looking for.

  “Open up on ’im,” Drifter roared.

  ​Drifter flattened himself, moving a bit. The opening from him to the other half of the CEO building wasn’t much, but the Hounds knew how to use cover when it was given. They shot through the small gap, bullets grazing so close he could feel their heat. No shield this time; too late for that.

  Drifter watched as dozens of bullets from the rifles and pistols tore into the Major. Shot after shot, bullet after bullet, until their clips were gone. Half melted, half riddled with holes, he remained standing. One of his eyes glowed an intense blue as he cocked his head, as though confused for a second. That confusion soon dissolved into a raw, primal hate.

  The bastard was still alive.

  ​The robotic zombie craned his head and laughed. The sound was chilling, robotic and human blended together. At times, it sounded fake and clipped; other times, it sounded real and rich. Electricity buzzed and snapped around him. Blood oozed from the burns on his skin. Drifter didn’t know how, didn’t want to know how, but the bastard was alive even with a bullet hole right in between his brows.

  “You thought that was gonna kill me? Any of that?” He laughed harder and harder until he lost all human in his voice. “Die now.”

  ​And with that he was on them and in that moment, Drifter thought they were all dead. He remembered only the shattering of glass and a bright red light rocketing in front of them. Ooh...you. A smile crept on his face.

  Standing in front of her family, wrapped in red flames, stood Kindle, a spear in one hand and Coal in the other. She pressed the Major back with a wide swing from her purple-tipped lance.

  She didn’t look the same. It only had been a few weeks, not even a month, and somehow time had changed her. She stood a bit prouder, looked a bit weathered and hard. She had seen things, knew things now. But she came. She came to save them, and looked the dang part.

  “You ain’t takin’ no one else, Major.”

  Chapter 17

  Shadows, Fire; Separation, Love

  Appetite

  “I brought the pieces together. I tore down the bars between you. Praise me ‘cause you owe me one.” --Ignace Breaux

  Appetite could safely say that he was getting his butt beaten, and there wasn’t much he had to add to that.

  Reinforcements for the Bluecoats came in droves over the city. A few small ships darted above, dropping off more and more of the invaders from beams of light; in the distance, a larger dreadnaught hovered on the horizon. The family were steadily getting pushed further and further back from the CEO building and sur
rounding areas. After a time, they might just lose the city altogether and get crushed by sheer force of numbers.

  Appetite couldn’t worry any of that right now. Right now, he had to worry about himself. His folk had eyes; they could see if they were outmatched.

  Maybe he needed to learn that himself. Captain Xan gave him no mercy in this fight. If he’s focused on me, then he ain’t goin’ around killin’ my folk. That was the silver lining in all this; didn’t mean that he he liked it that much. He stood from the rubble he was lying in, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. The ’roid got him good again - the skinny bastard hit him with an energy blast that knocked him almost a mile away and barreled him into an old parking garage. Without his mutation, he would’ve been dead to rights.

  He wasn’t invincible, though. He still felt the ache of his missing fingers on his one hand and the throb of a wound on his side.

  In a face-to-face fight, fist to fist, he could get him without a problem. Appetite knew his own power and limits. Taking him down and ripping him apart would’ve been a snap; but the Captain knew that and played to his own strengths as a ’roid. It is what it is, was what his father would say. Not everyone’s gonna play ball on your court. Appetite centered himself, ignoring the bloody mess of his body.

  He reloaded Ham Bone and headed back out into the street. I’m gonna get you, boy, he thought, choking down his frustration. Got way too much to live for. Appetite rolled his shoulders, watching the Captain walk down the empty highway dragging his two ice-colored laser swords behind him in a small trail of fire. Intimidation. Fear. That was what he was playing on.

  Appetite wasn’t gonna give him that satisfaction.

  Not to say that he wasn’t scared. There were things, people he wanted to see, needed to see. Kindle could handle herself, live on without her ol’ pa, but the thought of her alone still terrified him; he wanted to see her grow, maybe have a family of her own one day. He wanted to see her go off and find herself. Being a teenager was already confusing enough - she didn’t need to do that without her pa.

  She’s safe with Remy, she’s far away from all this craziness. Maybe it was best that she’d gone to the other side of the family. He pushed the thought from his head. Going down those roads made it sound like regrets. I’m gonna live through this. I’m gonna see my daughter again. And maybe her again.

  He pushed that thought away further than the other ones. That last trail of thought was a good way to get himself killed. Appetite squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. Got somethin’ to live for. Gotta make it.

  The Captain approached. The scraping of the laser swords ripped against the air with every step. Thin wisps of smoke spiraled into the air near his face and split around his sharp nose. There was nothing left in those eyes now; all pretenses of human emotions had dropped, leaving the cold residue of a machine executing a directive. He didn’t see a living thing right now in Appetite. He saw an objective, a neat empty box waiting for a check mark. How did a ’roid rise through the ranks of the Bluecoats? By doing the job and doing it well. Appetite would have found it impressive if he wasn’t being a kill-bot at this very moment.

  Captain Xan swung his two hard-light blades, slicing from impossible angles all around him. Appetite tried to keep up, but going against a machine with the ability to calculate outcomes on the fly was as uphill as pushing a muddy truck up a mountain in the middle of the rain. But why the blades instead of a gun or that deadly gatling? Did he deem his other weapons unfit for his opponent?

  Didn’t matter. Appetite caught him in the middle of a swing with a close-ranged shot from Ham Bone - tricky without a few of his fingers. The pellets slammed against the man’s wrist, knocking it back when it should’ve torn it off, but no matter; Appetite took the chance he got. He headbutted the Captain right between the eyes, knocking the ’roid back, and shot him square in the stomach.

  Not even a flinch despite his mechanical insides flopping outside of his stomach. The Captain swiped with his uninjured hand, slashing at his neck but catching Appetite’s wide chest instead.

  Blood and heat. Burns and pain. He wasn’t going to quit.

  Appetite slammed the butt of his shotgun into the ’roid’s chin with the full force of his power. His opponent’s neck cracked and spun into a sick angle, turned in a direction no head should go. Didn’t stop him. Captain Xan spun, ducking the next blow from the shotgun blast and slashing Appetite’s legs.

  Appetite jumped back, shoved his shotgun under the android’s armpit, and blasted it off. The arm and the sword it carried flung into the air. The Captain’s empty socket sputtered wires in all directions, slick silver oil guttering and spitting onto the ground.

  Not the first time Appetite had done that to someone. Sometimes a man has to treat his opponent like dinner meat and go for the joints.

  Captain Xan snapped his neck back into place and kept going, clutching his remaining sword tight within wire exposed hands.

  The cold calculation of his eyes faltered into a small spark of very human fear. His swings became wilder. Panic. Appetite recognized it, hungered for it. The animal part of him, the one that had needed to travel away from C’dar for a while, awoke again. He wasn’t that meek, quiet big boy.

  Perhaps the Coats were right; the Caldwells were monsters. Only monsters enjoyed things like this.

  Fear became a lost concept. His heart throbbed; his head pounded in his skull. He felt every vein in his body pump blood into his veins in a rush like a river underneath his skin. Xan came down with a downward slash, expecting to cut through Appetite’s defense. Without thinking, Appetite flung up Ham Bone. The sword sliced through the gun with ease.

  A sad loss, but better than his life. That didn’t matter right now. None of it did.

  He grabbed the Bluecoat by the arm, pulled him close, and ripped out the man’s throat with his teeth. The taste of synthetic flesh and metal and oil filled his mouth. Not the same as blood, but the taste wasn’t half bad. Much more delicious was the surprise on the ’roid’s face; hundreds and hundreds of calculations didn’t predict this.

  Appetite, without a second of hesitation, then proceeded to pull off the man’s other arm.

  Every snap of a wire brought an unimaginable amount of sick joy to Appetite’s mind. The bioandriod couldn’t speak any more. He had to watch in silent horror as Appetite ripped his remaining arm from his body.

  Appetite held it for a while, watched it thrash helplessly in his grip. He opened the fingers to take the sword.

  Armless and voiceless, Xan moved his empty shoulder. A wide gatling gun shoved its way from the cavity and pointed itself in Appetite’s direction.

  Would you give up? Appetite wanted to shout.

  Xan began shooting before Appetite could even say anything. Red lasers splashed against the surface of his hardened skin. While they did hurt and burned his red fur, they weren’t enough to pierce his skin. That explains why he didn’t open up with that number. While his father’s hide was susceptible to attacks like that, Appetite’s wasn’t. Evolution or natural adaptation or some sort of mutation difference, he didn't know. He would be fine as long as he didn’t change to -

  Old World ammunition.

  Crap.

  ​Appetite noticed it too late. A stream of old world bullets sprayed from Xan’s gatling now at a rapid rate. Only by sheer luck, Appetite managed leap over an abandoned car nearby; he felt the familiar pain of open bullet wounds against his shoulder and right leg. He was too big of a target to avoid all of it.

  Appetite growled, hunched behind a car barely bigger than him. Dozens of bullets bounced off his makeshift red-brown rusted shield of the car, punching holes here - but it stood firm all the same. The sounds soon became deafening, thick over the whole area in a sharp pitter-patter of metal rain.

  This wasn’t going to stand for long. Eventually, the cover was gonna give way and he was gonna be a big open target. No manner of shield or layers of mutant fat was gonna keep him alive at th
at rate. He swallowed his nerves and flicked the sword. Without Ham Bone, the roles were flipped. He already missed his shotgun.

  ​Chin-chunk. Plink. A reload.

  ​Appetite rushed out of cover, faster than a man his size should move. He felt his legs burn hot from all the motion. Bullet wounds, cuts, bruises all flared up and down his body; still he pushed. He pushed deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. He was running out of time. Without any more calories to burn, he was gonna lose the only advantage he had.

  He needed to end this now.

  He rushed at the Captain, the hard-light sword coming down on its former owner. He hoped to cut him in half, but sometimes you didn’t get what you want.

  The android pivoted at the right time, kneeing Appetite in his big belly. A burst of agony rippled in Appetite’s stomach. Vomit and blood threatened to spew all over his shirt. He tumbled to the ground, clutching his stomach and trying to catch a ragged breath in his diaphragm. Tears of pain rolled down his eyes.

  Chin-chunk. Reloaded. He dug deeper and didn’t find a single drop of energy left. This was going be it if he didn’t think of something.

  I’m sorry, Cassie. I done got myself killed.

  ​Funny how every regret and every pain came to the surface when a man touched death.

  ​Then, nothing.

  ​Nothing but a loud clunk and hungry snapping of wires.

  ​Appetite opened his eyes to see a shorter woman standing over the dear Bluecoat Captain’s halved body. The android whined voiceless sounds and clawed at the woman’s feet with dead wires. She cleaved his halves into quarters with an axe much larger than she was. She shouldered the axe and laughed, a familiar sweet sound from years ago.

  She turned to him, her warm dark skin glistening with sweat, her dark brown, curly hair rolling down the sides of her round cheeks. She extended her hand.

  Appetite felt his heart twist and turn in his body. It can’t be. No. No. No. Now. Here. Why now? Tears swelled in his eyes. The pain of seeing her made every physical pain he felt right now feel insignificant. He reached towards her with bloody fingers. It felt wrong. She shouldn’t see him like this.