Nicky redirected his tentacles downward, spurting a thick wash. Trent again turned the corner only to be forced back by a silver blaze. Jessica snuck a glance: five SamuBots fired needles from their arms, two of those had feet foamed to the floor. One globe floated aimlessly to the side while an identical ball pulsed near the door, sounding off in vibration.
Jessica exhaled—tick, tick—pinging one bot twice in the chest. The glowing pinholes gushed hydraulic steam. It dropped to its knees. She ducked a torrent of needles, collided with Nicky, and nearly bounced back into the line of fire. A stray ricochet slashed her face below the eye. It bled freely but didn’t hit bone.
Okay, this wasn’t funny.
“I am not suited for military combat,” Nicky said.
“Quit whining and think of something!”
Her next barrage missed high right. The rearmost, un-foamed bots exited out the back, the non-confused globe hovering at their shoulders. They were flanking, but to which side? The door slid closed behind the pair before they moved either way. A pincer? No time to wait and see.
“The middle ain’t advancing, but we got company on both sides. Dillon, Christy, get over here! Behind the treads!”
Wide-eyed and trembling, neither moved across the entrance. Jessica wouldn’t feel too comfortable about meeting the brothers on the other side either.
Fine. Divided. Humans on one end, she and her Einherjar on the other, four and four. She locked eyes with Calvin, then Trent. Both Winslow’s nodded, the elder brother’s lips hinting a smirk.
The way it was. The way it never was.
Jessica tapped Nicky’s helmet and ordered Ayla and Kahn back. Over her shoulder, she saw the brothers disappear around the bend, the lovers shuffling in tow. The control room door remained open, its foamed guardians firing blind.
* * *
Even with their combined arsenal just an arm’s length away in the box, she remained in gunslinger mode, pistol and pistol. Worst-case scenario would be her and Nicky versus two bots and the globe. Another worst-case would be the bots and ball blitzing Calvin and Trent. Even if the sentries split—bad news number three. Any scenario would be quick and deadly. Maybe they should have abandoned the fight.
Trent and the lovers had become a combat liability. Her pets and Nicky weren’t exactly useful against robots and needlers. One high-velocity round would revert the FireBot back to his post-canal flat-belly; who knew if they’d have the chance to repair him a second time. That meant that it was up to her and Calvin against military technology in a close-quarters setting. For three days, they’d been dealing with opponents that couldn’t be reasoned with, but this was a step up, even compared to their comical encounter in the lobby.
Jessica wasn’t ready to die yet. She clenched her grips against shaking hands, understanding full well she could run, call the boys back, and accept Calvin’s city-escape plan. But this was floor two-twenty-three, and through a wall, she was in spitting distance from the truth and salvation. Not just for herself, but for every survivor, every fighter. Every dead soul that wanted an answer. Her hometown.
Was she outgunned? Fuck yes. Was she scared? Of course. But would this be the moment she backed down? Not a fucking chance.
She should have died twenty times by now, so if she felt a little confident that things would work out, well, she’d earned it. Chattering teeth turned to a smirk, then a grin. Confidence had been her only protection the last few days; perseverance and stupid chances were her only opportunities. Their defiance had given them a goal, and on the cusp, now was the time to claim it. Together.
God bless you, boys. God bless me.
Shouts and gunfire echoed from far down the circular hall. Ayla howled at her heels.
“Damn it. Quiet!”
Nicky maintained a cautious advance, all arms in loose coils, axe tipped flat just below his visor. Jessica crouch-stepped behind his treads as they passed the east stairwell.
In a black-and-sliver blur, steel met steel with a bell-ring. Axe diverted sword to the wall, pinning both blades into a deep dent. Tentacles unfurled, wrapping the SamuBot’s arms and wrists. Needles shot into the wall, some penetrating, many rebounding down the corridor.
Ayla yelped. She collapsed to the floor.
Snarling and half-blinded by sparks, Jessica leapt around the FireBot, clipper raised. Reflex sent her into a stumble; the stun-ball whizzed past her head in an ear-splitting wail. The SamuBot dropped its arms, literally, separating limbs from its shoulders. Now a stick with legs, it jump-kicked at Nicky’s helmet. When her friend blocked, the bot followed though into Jessica.
Off-balance, she shot high, catching a hundred pounds of pure force in her stomach. The sickening snap of her ribs cracking was only surpassed by the pain. Backwards though an airborne yard, she landed on her face, her forehead soon wet with her vomit. Ayla whimpered at her side—quiet, weak.
Is this really it?
“N-Nicky…”
Her chest tightened; her vision of last-night’s dinner was hazy, the smell didn’t even penetrate. She gritted her teeth and braced her elbows, the sound of combat nothing but a dull roar. Nicky dangled the bot by a leg; however, the enemy spun inward, winding the tentacle around its knee. The axe finally yanked free; the blade streaked towards the SamuBot. The stun-ball’s pitch reached deafening, dropping her face back into warm fluid.
Eyes closed, she felt a bass-rumble in the floor, a vibration not immediate, but still close. Calvin and Trent? From a tickle to a floor-jumping crescendo, it became audible, loud as a shuttle taking off. It overwhelmed the stun-ball and pierced her fog. Eyes open, she couldn’t see. Pure darkness. The dizziness in her head and tug on her stomach felt familiar, a repeat of the Marsden School explosion.
Black-eyed power.
Consciousness abandoned her. Jessica reached to Ayla, spider-scrawling her fingers to soft fur.
I’m sorry.
~ 27 ~
Happy birthday, with love
October 31, 4124 — 4:00 PM
“Happy Hallo-birthday-ween!” Jessica carried the orange-and-black cake into the living room as Mom clapped and cheered. Twelve candles dripped wax over the icing.
Jacob covered his ears. “Please don’t—”
“Happy birthday to you...” Incredibly off-key, and with great gusto, the song warbled to its crescendo, then coda, “And many more.”
“Make a wish,” Mom said between puffs on a cigarette.
Jacob’s eyes closed, his face contorted. He nodded and leaned forward. The candle flames vanished in one breath.
It won’t come true.
“Nice!” Jessica offered him a snub-nosed cake-knife. “You get another wish—this one’s all yours. Something for you.”
“Same one,” he said, eyes closed once again before bisecting a sugar-flower.
Sorry.
Mom applauded and reached for the top present on the stack. Her blond hair trailed to the seat, tied with a black bow mid-way down her back. If she’d aged any in the last twelve years, it wasn’t apparent, looking every bit the beauty Jessica had always known. Dad had always kept her straight before, but now—her French maid costume rode high on her thighs, only decent by the position of her hands. Her boobs spilled out her satin top, unfettered and jiggling with every move. Why Jacob should have to see it—Jessica swallowed it down.
He shredded the wrapping, eyes wide at his first gift. “Apocalypse Eternal: Sandscape? A year’s subscription! I said I was gunna get a job.”
“I don’t want you making deliveries in this neighborhood. Keep studying and enjoy your game.”
“But, you can’t affor—”
“Don’t worry about adult stuff, Jacob. Momma has her ways. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t tease me on my birthday.”
The rest of it: clothes, music, games; entirely more than they could afford, but she and Mom agreed: Jacob deserved it. Not only that, but they wanted to prove to themsel
ves that the family of three would bounce back.
He lifted the final gift, a thick rectangle wrapped in patchwork brown paper—Jessica’s best attempt to date—long strips of packing tape lining every seam and tear. She flushed as he inspected it, an eyebrow raised. Mom chuckled.
“Go ahead.” Jessica stifled a growl.
“Trying to find a way in.” He and Mom erupted in laughter.
“I’ll just take it back.” She reached.
“Mine!” Jacob stuck out his tongue, tore an end, and shook the block from its plastic prison.
Jessica bit her lip. It hadn’t been on his list and cost far more than she’d planned on spending.
“Holy crap!” her brother shouted. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope, check the inside cover.” She grinned, tapping the faded binding.
“Year thirty-eight ten, Joshua Driver’s Encyclopaedia Galaxias—first print—signed! Where did you get this?”
“I have my ways. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Jessica smirked.
Marci told her about the tome amid her own university textbook hunt. The artifact was apparently worth enough to go on auction, but its owner, a mother of advancing age, had offered her son’s collection in an outright sale on a flat price, over-quoting many and drastically under-quoting others. Marci’s thoughtfulness, and a quarter of Jessica’s paycheck, had brought it home.
A cursory look while wrapping it had been interesting, if befuddling. The local icon, Driver, had a way with narrative, relating astrophysics though example and experience, though the science behind it was so over her head it may as well have been another galaxy.
Eyes misty, he stood, wrapping an arm around her and Mom’s shoulders, burying his head between them. “I love you guys. T-Thanks.”
Jessica’s voice caught in her throat as she squeezed back. Mom kissed him on the cheek before enveloping both in a perfumed hug. “It’s easy to love the best kids ever. I know it’s been hard, but you’re both so brave. Take care of each other, and I’ll always be here to take care of you. Got it?”
When Jacob melted down into sobs, she couldn’t stop her own tears, her first since the funeral.
* * *
She walked into her brother’s room, expecting to find him curled on his bed, still worked up. She smiled.
He sat at his computer, legs crossed under his butt. Swirling lights from the monitor washed his face.
“Hey, kiddo. Birthday ain’t over yet.” Jessica set two pieces of cake on the desk with two cups of thick iced-cocoa. “Doing your game?”
“Yup. Did Mom go to her party?”
“She fretted a bit, but I sent her off a half hour ago.” She cleared books and chips off another chair and dragged it close. “This is that online one, right? The one you and her play?”
“The new expansion.” Jacob’s eyes shifted over the screen, pupils wide. “They finally opened Black Mountain and a bunch of islands, plus a new character class I want to try.”
A hulking man consulted a crimson crystal, his metallic photo-realistic arms and legs sparkling in the Venusian desert sun. His name, Faustus, appeared on and off over his head. His face was a dead match to their father’s. She’d never brought it up, though wondered how conscious of a decision that was.
“Drink it before it gets warm,” she said. He sipped, then gulped while devouring the cake. “Not going VR?”
“It’s easier to manage without the visor. Probably later.” Faustus shimmered, became translucent, then vanished, replaced by a glowing ball of light where his head used to be. A skeletal outline faded into sight. After a few taps on his crystal keyboard, the ghost donned a silver cloak. Jacob cheered. “Ascendant Cyborg!”
“Congrats!”
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not a clue.” Jessica leaned against him, watching the wraith flutter over the dunes, obliterating a trio of four-foot scarabs without pausing stride. Without thinking, she said, “Dad’s pretty badass.”
Faustus halted, under attack by some manner of giant caterpillar. Jacob looked to her, lips crooked in a smirk. “He is. But Faustus is a bad guy, a total player killer for Io. There’s too many on Anatali’s side.”
“So you waste your time with the losers. I can relate.”
The caterpillar burst in a green gush. “I bet he could, too.”
After seeing her father’s virtual body become a phantom, Jessica had resisted the urge to chide Jacob. Dad wasn’t a bad guy at all, rather a hero, the only famous rugby star on the perennially suck-ass Nome Battery. After seven decades, he hung up his cleats and had a baby, Jessica. When his coaching career dried up, he followed his father’s footsteps and became a trucker. Six years later, he’d been killed on the road, leaving a wife, daughter, and son. The family’s downward slope was marked with sacrifice, courage, and compromise, moving three times, the fourth after his death, when his survivors moved into their trailer.
The cramped home burst with finery—all that would fit—though much of their wealth had been sold for space or rent. The bits that remained: Jacob’s computer, Mom’s bedroom, Jessica’s wardrobe, seemed out of place among plastic paneling. Even that much was threatened by Nome’s insurmountable unemployment rate. Building The Spire had given the town a short-lived boost, but afterwards many of its citizens lived hand-to-mouth, including the down-but-not-out Hall family.
“Can you change him back?” she said.
“Nope…not even here.”
“Jacob.”
“I’m ok now, Jessie. Maybe it’s my way of moving on, like Mom.”
She wasn’t sure Mom should be moving on quite so well, but maybe Jessica, herself had the tightest grip on the way things were. Those days would never return. If her baby brother had the insight to let go and accept Dad would always be the same in their hearts, then she should at least be able to match him. Four months removed, she’d soldiered on for her brother. But now, how could she embrace the future for herself?
Dillon. Words left unsaid.
Ayla yapped, pacing up and down the hallway. Eight o’clock.
“I’m coming, girl.” She stood and kissed the crown of his head, leaving him to his game and music. Donning jogging pants and track shoes, Jessica released their dog for their nightly run around the lot.
~ 28 ~
It all begins
November 31, 4124 — Unknown
Blank slate. Not even a thought. Jessica was dead—she knew it, even if she couldn’t feel it. Then she opened her eyes.
Okay, maybe not so dead. Her pulse pounded her head in a regular rhythm. First thought, ‘Ow.’ Second thought, ‘Why am I not dead?’
Nicky ripped the ankle off a disembodied leg, its metallic pair lay dismantled on the floor. His belly sagged half-full and without leaks. A mound of foam quivered at his side.
“Ayla,” she rasped, her throat burning. “Help Ayla.”
“Of course.” His butt-box flipped open, an arm snaked into the medical supplies. “She appears stable, if critical.”
“How can you be both?” Hand to forehead, Jessica wiped her chin against her shoulder. She knee-walked to her blurry-white friend, trying to focus her eyes. “How long’s it been?”
“The dark-energy pulse occurred fifty-three seconds ago. The combat initiated at a minute forty.” She’d only been out a minute? She expected hours, even a day. “Her wound is critical, but her life-signs are stable. Ehwaz seems to share your resiliency to injury.”
Kahn hovered over the dog, licking her back. Jessica brushed his head away, noticing he had extensive burns over his neck and side.
“He shielded her from the ricochet.” Nicky handed her a vial of nano-dust. “Without him, she would be truly lost.”
Good boy.
“I deeply apologize for the situation. I was…inadequate.”
“Fuck you, Nicky,” she said. “You shouldn’t have had to step up. This was my…my—“
“Point taken, but do not blame
yourself, Valkyrie. We are fighting gods, as gods. Let us attend to our fallen.”
Fallen. Calvin and Trent. There were no echoes, no sound from that end of the corridor.
She sprinkled a layer over Ayla’s wound. The dog’s eyes were open, her breathing weak, but steady. She tried to stand. Jessica held her down, eyes misting. “Not yet, girl, not yet. You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine…”
“I will attend to Vidar and Vali.” He hid his axe, maybe too discretely. “Guard our friend but mind the mound of F.T.F. If the globe breaks free, you will be forced to respond.”
“No problem.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, without a peep from the corridor, Jessica stood with Ayla. The dog wouldn’t be denied, squirming from and even snapping at her friend’s restraining hands. She could sympathize with Ayla’s frustration, but ten minutes really wasn’t proper recuperation time for a through-and-through needler wound just below the spine.
Animals had a good sense about them, though. They ate when they needed to eat, slept when they needed sleep, and seemed oblivious to pain when their survival was at stake. Considering the setting, Jessica trusted Ayla’s instincts enough to let her keep fighting. At least she was smart enough to cling to the rear, panting heavy with every stride. If they were both human, she’d be slinging an arm over Kahn’s shoulder by the way they walked together—so brave, so strong.
Jessica crossed the control room’s back door and found Nicky in motion towards them. He cradled an unconscious Dillon and Christy on either side. The brothers weren’t with him.
She couldn’t speak.
“Jessica—“
She sprinted past him. Ayla whined as she left.
Her best hundred-meter dash in years ended in a skid. She paused, blinking.
Nicky rolled up behind her. “They weren’t—”
“Where are they?” Jessica glared, plasma pistol humming.
Anatali: Ragnarok Page 14