Virtual Immortality

by Matthew S. Cox

  Eldon grasped Kenny’s shoulder. “Don’t guilt on it any more man; you did what you had to do. You didn’t put that knife in her hand.”

  “There’s gotta be something I can do for her.” He pounded the wheel.

  “Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. Who knows? What I do know is that I don’t want to get my ass shot up because you’ve got that crazy ex-wife of yours in your head.” Eldon let go of his shoulder. “If there is a way to get her back straight, you’ll find it.”

  Kenny made a halfhearted chuckle. “Yeah.”

  The mountain trail ended at a pile of crumbled concrete, the only remnants of a small bridge. He slowed down, pulled to the right, and eased down the bank of a dead waterway. The truck rocked as the tires struggled for purchase on the irregular ground, and the in-wheel motors whined, tossing head sized stones to the rear as he feathered the accelerator. Kenny’s stare hardened with determination as he fought with the controls to keep from flipping over. Eldon, despite the jostling, sat back and tried to nap. As rough as this was, it had nothing on a DS2 plummeting through the atmosphere of another planet.

  As the tires bit into the ascending bank, Kenny spoke without taking his eyes off what he was doing. “Hey, Eldon?”

  “Yeah?” He looked up from another failed attempt to nap.

  “Speakin’ of unwanted divorces, I’ve been wondering. Why did you leave the Marines?” Kenny shot him a questioning glance before his head snapped back forward. “You still act like you’re in.”

  “Ain’t nothin against them, it’s the guys pulling the strings I got a beef with.” Eldon drew a deep breath. “Two years ago, my team got picked to hit this ACC site in South America; intelligence pegged it as a bio/chem weapons facility. We went in at night to scope the place out.” He gestured with his hands to add emphasis. “So there we were, all twelve of us moving in on this collection of buildings in the jungle. They had guard towers, laser sentries, sensors… the whole nine. Anyway, we took the place easy. Our armor let us walk right up on ‘em. They were scrubs; hardly even knew which end of the gun to point at us. The site turned out to be a manufacturing facility for drugs, both recreational and military.”

  “Okay, that sounds pretty basic… I’m guessing there’s more to it?”

  “They had about fifty locals there as unpaid labor. The only pay waitin’ for ‘em was death if their explosive collars went off if they ran.”

  “You rescued them, right?”

  “That’s what I was expecting…” Eldon shook his head. “‘Cept a whispercraft came in on us once brass got word that the site was secure. Couple of suits from C-Branch showed up and took over, with other ideas. They kept that facility going with the locals working. They fed ‘em better and didn’t beat em, but left the bombs on. They wanted to taint the military drugs with some kind of experimental thing supposed to make soldiers want to desert or go AWOL. Some real heavy mind fuck shit.” Eldon tapped two fingers on the side of his head.

  “Whoa.” Kenny exhaled.

  “Worst part was that they kept making the rec drugs just to keep up appearances. They even gave orders to kill anyone that tried to escape to keep a lid on it.” Eldon pounded his fist into the door’s armrest. “Shit just ain’t right. That’s not what I signed on for.”

  “No shit. Maybe that’s why I ignore the government. I like it better out here. This is freedom.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, people in the military aren’t about that weird shady underhanded crap. But C-Branch does whatever it wants. It’s like a separate government inside the government. Whatever they think is in the UCF’s best interest, and they don’t give a shit who gets hurt.”

  “At least they’re patriotic.” Kenny shot Eldon a grin.

  “Say what?” Eldon glared for a moment before recognizing the sarcasm, and they shared a laugh.

  Something about the mystique of the Badlands had gotten into Kenny’s blood from a young age, and he had not been able to get it out of his head. Katherine hated it whenever he would go there. Scars of the Corporate War were everywhere. Any number of hazards could kill you without warning, from genetic combat mutants to cyber-enhanced wildlife, to nuclear impact points. The Badlands had no laws, no MedVan would come scrape your ass off the pavement, and you had only what backup you brought with you.

  The descending slope of the eastern mountains was day two of their trip; the old Nevada region’s desert consumed most of the first day.

  “What’s the farthest east you’ve been?” Eldon took his combat rifle out of the bag he left in the back seat.

  “I got within scope range of the Mississippi last year. Thought about checking it out but there were some Fourth Reich jackasses in the area.”

  “You didn’t shoot them, why?” Eldon’s tone sounded almost serious.

  “Not when it was one versus forty, no.” Kenny chuckled. “Besides, those idiots will get themselves killed. If they’re that far east they probably cross the river and go into the Scattered Lands after convoys.”

  “Scattered Lands?”

  “Didn’t they teach you about that in Marine school?”

  Eldon glared, drew in a breath, and prepared to launch into a detailed explanation of all the different “schools” one could partake of in the military. He grumbled it into futility rather than words. “No…”

  “Well… Most of the crap that lives in The Badlands won’t cross the river. ‘Tween the water and East City you got a patch of little independent towns trying to take back the land. No mutants, but tons of raiders.”

  “So it’s like the Badlands without the fallout and the freaky genetic experiments?” Eldon lifted an eyebrow.

  “Sort of. The people that live there ain’t like the Scrags. Way less tribal, they live sort of like pre-war era, without a lot of the amena… amina… fancy shit of modern day.” Kenny grumbled under his breath as Eldon laughed at his battle with the language.

  “Amenities. You ever go there?”

  Kenny raised his middle finger at the English lesson. “Naa. It’s too well scavenged. Most of the good shit’s been taken by the locals and the place doesn’t have the same… feeling.”

  “Why hasn’t the city just spread over it?”

  “Mostly they didn’t want to pay to expand it more. They would rather build up than west. Y’also got the fear of the creatures being close. No one with any money wants to be near the Badlands. West City has that big ass wall; East City has a few hundred miles of cities and militias and… oh never mind.”

  “What?” Eldon raised an eyebrow.

  “Neither one of us is drunk enough to mention it.”

  Eldon nudged him in the arm. “Spit it out, man.”

  “You’re going to think I’m shit nuts.”

  “You go out into the goddamn Badlands willingly, and you’ve done it more than once. You are shit nuts.” Eldon laughed through a large grin.

  It only took two days, but Kenny’s mood had returned to normal. He settled into his seat, grinning and adjusting the lay of his hat. “Well, some people talk. They say that all the death, all the pain―the emotional energy released by the war…”

  “Drunk? You should have said high.”

  “Yeah, yeah… If you stay out here long enough you’ll start to wonder too. Anyway, they say that the Badlands has an intelligence of its own. Like the land is aware and wants to keep people from leaving or changing it. It feeds off the suffering of the poor bastards that live out there.”

  “Now that is some seriously fucked up campfire bullshit.” Eldon shook his head. “You don’t really believe all that?”

  Kenny pointed at the dashboard. Along with the modern control systems, a small section contained the starter for a diesel combustion engine. “In case the electric goes out.”

  “God damn, I didn’t think they made those anymore.”

  “They don’t. I did.” He altered course a few degrees to the right. “Modern things sometimes crap out without warning or cause.”

  “Lik
e it doesn’t want you to leave.” Eldon tried his best to sound serious.

  “Exactly.” Kenny’s reaction left Eldon unsure if he noticed the sarcasm. “The drive train ain’t hooked up, I’d have to crawl up underneath and swap shit around, but it’s there if I need it.”

  “You really do believe that?” Eldon flipped his rifle over and checked it.

  “Rather be a live superstitious fool than a dead realist.” Kenny grinned. “I’m not sure to be honest; I have seen some stuff that makes me unsure enough not to dismiss it.”

  Eldon shifted in his seat, angling towards the passenger side to make room for his rifle. Despite the lightweight plastic and bullpup design, the M2402 combat rifle was a little long to maneuver inside the cab. Kenny grinned watching Eldon prep it.

  He much preferred his pistols; they just felt more appropriate out here.

  enny sighed under his breath, thinking about how his daughter had changed. All of a sudden, she found the western thing to be “lame” It used to give her a bit of a thrill, and she had even asked for her own hat and some boots while learning how to handle a firearm. He hoped it was just an effect of the divorce and not an attempt to pull away from him. Her screaming about this trip echoed in his mind.

  How much like Katherine she sounded… She doesn’t want me to get hurt.

  He smiled.

  The thought of her, six years old and running around in her underwear, cowboy boots, and the little pink cowgirl hat, brought a tear to his eye. In the daydream, she ran past her mother, leaning on the doorway with a big grin aimed right at him. He could not even look the memory of his ex-wife in the eye.

  The men rode for a few hours, chatting as they passed the time. Eldon watched their right side while Kenny glanced left as often as the terrain would allow. By late afternoon, a gleam in the distance caught his eye and he steered for it. The shimmer grew into the outer wall of a building plated with metal. Long and narrow, the one story structure had an entryway that jutted out from the center as if an afterthought. A dusty grime-obscured window wrapped around the front face. Enough visibility remained for them to tell that it used to be some kind of restaurant.

  “Just an old wrecked diner.” Eldon waved it off.

  Kenny’s usual grin was back. “Might be something good in there. Place has just enough of an undisturbed look to it.”

  He brought the truck to a halt near the entrance and shut the drive system down.

  “Just gonna poke around a bit, never know what you can find. Most of the Scrags out here leave the good stuff behind thinkin’ it’s junk.”

  Eldon shook his head. “It is junk, Ken.”

  “Yeah, but it’s junk people buy.”

  Kenny lingered on the running board long enough to grab his rifle from the gun rack before they walked to the building. Eldon approached the door like he was making entry to a hostile area. He cleared in through the attached entryway and edged up to an interior door. Kenny slung the rifle over his shoulder and strolled in as if the place still operated. Eldon gave him a hard glance as he pressed his back into the wall by the door.

  “We don’t know what’s here, get your ass down.” Eldon used a stare to point Kenny at the ground.

  “Cover me.” Kenny spat something out of his teeth as he walked through the double doors and into the main room. He could not help but give them the saloon shove as he swaggered past.

  Eldon rolled his eyes. “At least you’re a skinny motherfucker; I’ll be able to carry your body back to your kid.”

  Kenny chuckled. He had not seen any of the telltale signs that anything or anyone used the building.

  “Not gonna be here long, just a quick walkabout.”

  Eldon rolled through door behind him, sweeping his rifle in both directions. Kenny went left, past rows of booth seating, kicking trash out of his way. He disturbed a crimson centipede as big around as a stick of butter that slithered deeper into the refuse on undulating black legs.

  Nothing in the main seating area was worth selling.

  Eldon went right, past a row of empty tables, all the way to the end where a bathroom door had a few bullet holes in it and a perceptible breeze blew in through two large broken windows. Dead grass and debris swirled about in the wind. Eldon used his boot to give the door a silent nudge. It creaked away to the side, revealing a skeleton perched on the toilet as if still in the process of using it. Shrouded in the decaying fibers of a grey jumpsuit, it looked like someone shot him in the face at close range. The bowl was stained black with the remnants of decomposition. An old style Kevlar helmet lay on the tile floor in a heap of dead plant matter and other windblown debris that had accumulated in here over the past few hundred years.

  Meanwhile, Kenny had gone behind the counter and entered the kitchen. Most everything in here looked useless, though one item stood out. An old milkshake machine on a counter top covered in a plating of petrified dust. The device seemed intact; hell, it might even work if the place had power. A shove confirmed bolts holding it to the counter; a minor nuisance, but still a back and forth trip to the truck to grab tools. He could find a buyer for a vintage machine like this, and he figured he could get upwards of a hundred thousand credits for it if it worked, maybe a quarter of that if it did not.

  In the bathroom, the dead man’s uniform had patches showing he had been with the corporate security force of an old phone company that had fielded one of the better-equipped armies before the ones hostile to the government merged into the ACC.

  “Shit man, you been dead a long time,” Eldon said.

  Traces of red still stood out against the drab grey where the company logo had once been. The irony that phone companies were as dead as this man was not lost on Eldon.

  Eldon relaxed; whatever happened here was done and over with long ago. The helmet might be worth something, he would have to ask Kenny. As he reached to take it, the debris pile moved. Leaves exploded with a hissing noise louder than an upset cougar. He leapt backwards in shock as a skateboard-sized roach lurched towards him. A spray of pale yellow liquid shot out of its mouth, striking the wall just shy of Eldon’s leg. Within seconds, the congealing mass bubbled and smoked.

  Eldon shouted as he backpedaled. “What the hell!”

  He moved with well-trained reflexes, triggering a burst. Cinderblocks caved in at the back of the bathroom as the projectiles bounced off the bug’s chitinous body. It wobbled from the force of the impact but seemed more annoyed than injured. Adrenaline coursed through Eldon as he weighed two options in an instant. He went with the first, not wanting to get close to this thing with a vibro knife.

  He crouched and sighted at the bug’s head. The massive insect swayed for a moment before recovering and hissing.

  The mandibles snapped open.

  Eldon’s finger squeezed.

  The minute click of the electronic trigger drowned in the report of a single shot. Six inches of blue flame appeared in a flash behind the projectile as it sailed straight into the open mouth of the bug, stopping up its venom spray with an 8mm indirium cork. It jerked backwards, shaking with the rattle of a bullet bouncing around inside. Slime spewed from its front end as it wobbled and fell in place. One leg twitched twice and went still.

  Eldon stared over his rifle, just in case it was faking. He had seen these projectiles shred through inch-thick plastisteel plating as well as modern body armor. Wind jostled the bug’s antennae, and he shot it again.

  Kenny turned at the gunfire and started out of the kitchen, but stopped when he heard motion and voices beneath him. People in the basement had also heard the shots. He backed through the door, keeping it open, and glanced at Eldon out of the corner of his eye. Seeing him okay, he shifted his gaze to an opening hatch in the floor and the sound of boots on wooden steps.

  Kenny raised a hand in greeting at the figure that appeared, but froze when he noticed his distinctive attire. Dust-covered brown leather crisscrossed with stitching cobbled together from scrap encased the body like a sausage skin. Tw
o skeletal thin men emerged from the trapdoor. Both shaved bald, faces covered by tight leather straps leaving just their mouths and eyes exposed. Filed down into points, blood stained their teeth dark. Small metal bits protruded here and there, items taken from kills worn as trophies.

  “Nibblers!” Kenny shouted.

  “What the shit is a nibbler?”

  “Cannibals… probably on military stims.”

  “Had to stop here… just had to stop here, didn’t you?” Eldon moved toward the kitchen.

  Kenny wanted none of it; the hand that he raised in greeting flew down as he yanked his pistols out of their holsters. The first of the two nibblers had not made it all the way out of the hole in the floor when Kenny opened fire. He shot twice from each gun, alternating sides in rapid succession. The anemic man tried to twist out of the way but two landed in his chest, one winged him in the shoulder, and the last crowned him across the curve of his skull just above his left eye, splitting the top of his head open. The leather-wrapped body folded over itself with all the grace of a discarded puppet and hit the ground twitching. The other nibbler, still on the stairs, cut loose with a shrieking wail.

  Eldon’s rush stalled at motion outside. Another nibbler rounded the corner, sprinting to the front of the building. He carried a three-foot long pipe tipped with a nugget of concrete studded with bits of rebar. The sight of that―combined with what Kenny had said about cannibalism―provided all the motivation he needed.

  Eldon crouched low among the booths, aiming at the main door. The nibbler raced in and headed right for the kitchen, raising his club with both hands as his screech grew louder and higher.

  Kenny glanced backward just as Eldon aerated the lunatic’s chest from behind. The slugs went through the leather armor, the nibbler, and the far wall without hesitating. The cannibal’s excited run fell into a somber walk for a few paces. He stared at Kenny with a look of disappointment, like a little boy denied his ice cream, and crumpled to the floor.