Anatali: Ragnarok

by A. C. Edwards

  “Sure, why not.”

  Without a breeze to drift in, the dark snow coated pavement, trees, and awnings. The Umbrella was now visible, translucent black with pinholes looking more like stars than sunbeams. How long it would fall, she didn’t know, but it was as ill an omen as she’d seen since the black wind.

  ~ 44 ~

  Warehouse

  November 31, 4124 — 7:11 PM

  “This is it?”

  “This is it, Valkyrie. We will need your spear.” Nicky’s visor clipped a short message. Dani stopped and returned to his side. “Any plans would be helpful. Master Dillon, if you’ve been concealing some manner of skill, you may want to play that card.”

  Tall order for their hapless tag-a-long. He and Jessica stood together, peering over the FireBot’s shoulders. The stumpy warehouse was two stories tall, big enough for running room, small enough to defend. Not bad. Except the fact it appeared a lone island in an ocean of jerky bodies. A quarter mile away, the moans and stomps shook the ground. Blasting through a million Dvoraks didn’t bother Jessica anymore, but closing the door behind them? Not as easy, even if they were half frozen.

  “Well, uh, they don’t like fire, so I can shoot a line and hope they don’t surround us before we get through.”

  “It won’t work,” Dillon said, his black-pools steady on the mob. “They’re enraged. I can’t hear who’s taunting them, but they’re too pissed for us to wedge through.”

  “Glad you’re paying attention to our asses,” Jessica met his eyes, forcing her composure before she nodded back to the horde. “Like Nicky said, any bright ideas?”

  “Send a signal. Let whoever’s inside sort it out.”

  “But the Dvoraks—”

  “Won’t attack unless we get their attention. It’ll take a lot more than some fireworks, Jessie.”

  “Marginal distribution sets success as unlikely. I do not advise actions that are dependent on unknown variables.”

  “Whatever, Dani. Getting here was your choice. How to get in is ours.” Jessica set the rifle butt on Nicky’s shoulder, aiming towards a pinpoint high above, thumb pressed on manual targeting. Screen still active, she pressed again, eyes narrowed. Bunny tsk-tsked a nubby finger before pointing even higher. “So everyone has a fucking opinion now?”

  “Eh?” Dillon leaned for a look. She bumped him out of way, re-aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle whirred, an odd, new sound as it vibrated in her hands. She cocked Bunny a sideways glare but held steady, arms tense. A white beam shot from the barrel, soon slowing and coalescing at a hundred yard apex. Slow to fall, bursts of orange faded to red as they dropped in bunches.

  “The fuck was that?” Dillon shielded his eyes, though the light wasn’t especially bright.

  “Dunno.”

  “Position…numbers…and intent.” Dani gestured with each word, complimenting obvious pauses and flare-ups. “Military—”

  Jessica wriggled out of the strap and raised the rifle over her head. “Shit-dumb rabbit!”

  “Stop! Wait.” Dani snapped a tentacle to the weapon. “The Morse variant is military, but the syntax is local, AFB. Plus, the Umbrella’s shedding will distort the message in an exponential degree beyond five hundred meters.”

  As the flare descended, the pattern repeated, not once, twice, but a half dozen times before fizzling out. “He knows your language?”

  “So it would seem,” Nicky said. “Verdandi had three wolves: Ehwaz, Hagalz, and Dagaz.”

  “You just make this shit up as we go. Admit it.”

  “I draw the parallels as they are confirmed. Dagaz has ‘stepped up his game,’ would you not say?” He almost sang the words.

  Jessica lowered the rifle. Bunny stood shoulders slumped, ears down, eyes to his floppy feet. You gotta be kidding. “I’m sorry, alright” He shuffled and kicked, turning his back. “Oh, you’re pressing your goddamn luck. What do you want to hear, good job?”

  An ear perked. Was she really having this conversation?

  “Look. We can’t have you doing your own thing. We listen to each other. That’s what this crew does. I’ll give you a voice from now on, just make sure to use it. Fair enough?” Bunny hopped around, face-forward, and bowed. “Good.”

  “A man appears to be signaling us.” Nicky pointed to the warehouse. “I cannot make it out.”

  More robotic health issues? Maybe the EMP or Mission battle had knocked a screw loose. She sniper-zoomed with Bunny, the image fuzzy for her breath and all the snow. The young man, maybe Calvin’s age, waved his arms forward, waved them away. His mouth opened in shouts, much too far away to hear.

  “They’re in trouble,” she said, slapping his helmet. “Bunny couldn’t have given them the whole scoop. We can handle this mob. Their skin’s breaking up from the cold.”

  “Overconfidence is deadly.” Nicky hesitated. “As you know.”

  “Three fucking options! Sit, leave, or help. This is what we came here for. Let’s do it!”

  “Prepare yourselves.” He wrapped them both at the hips, forcing Dillon into a hug against her back. As he and Dani wheeled forward, the warehouse man head-bobbed a curse and raised his hands to the sky, palms flat—and glowing.

  They had a vanner too? Then what was the problem?

  Dani broke into a thirty-foot lead, tearing down Sageway’s gradual decline. The outermost Dvoraks stood as mannequins, skin frosty white. She knocked one aside with a crack, and split another with an axe, no bleeding. Jessica bided time for her opening volley; Bunny shrugged, not even offering a target—petulant bastard.

  The warehouse man was now clearly visible without aid, though he hadn’t returned his attention to his would-be saviors. His glow intensified; cream white bulbs formed around his fists. He pulled both to his sides and opened his eyes, which looked pretty damn dark, though it could have been a trick of the fading daylight.

  A low roar filled her ears, aerial and doing a Doppler-effect thing—impossible to locate through the strengthening blizzard. Bad timing, in any case. The true front line of the horde collapsed as Dani arrived. Their backs were still turned, but they now swayed shoulder to shoulder. She plowed into them, treads riding up one, then many, as the corpses dominoed as a ramp. The speed and weight that used to crush and spatter the Dvoraks jerked her tread-base to half-vertical. Frozen meat. Her arms kept her from tipping onto her back, though it took a scrambling twirl before she landed upright, facing backwards. Nicky skidded, his momentum sliding him twenty feet before stopping.

  The Dvoraks uprighted themselves, those who’d kept their legs.

  Meanwhile, the airborne roar intensified. She looked towards downtown and saw a dim blob of yellow. She snapped her head back to see warehouse man punch forward, his crème-de-glove discharged as a slow-moving orb—oh, fuck. She squirmed down to her knees, taking Dillon with her. Bunny’s hare-trigger fired a bouncing burst across the street. She hoped Nicky reacted quick enough to protect Ayla.

  Hands over her head, the sound became deafening, passing straight over them and—and hovering. She felt the tug of Dillon’s power on her stomach. Jessica twisted to look up. A rainbow oil-on-water globe had formed around them, muting the view of a suspended missile, its engine dragon-breathing fire. The weapon shuddered and twisted a stone’s throw from the warehouse, its head surrounded by the milk-white bubble. The man punched with his other hand. The second orb collided with the first. The missile tipped upright as the bubbles popped. Sparks enveloped their own barrier, scorching the street and washing them in a wave of heat. In a split second, the weapon continued its flight in a distorted spiral, likely to pierce the Umbrella and streak onward over the ocean.

  The rainbow barrier dissolved. Dillon exhaled a deep sigh. Dani rolled back to them, not a Dvorak in tow, completely soot-blackened and slightly disoriented.

  “I require guidance or maintenance. Miss Hall, do you have a towel?”

  * * *

  The warehouse man had vanished by the time Jessi
ca settled her heartbeat. She stared again at the horde of thousands only a hundred yards away. They still writhed and moaned—she could hear their joints clicking and crack—but not one had looked in their direction since they arrived. Nicky blasted her with hot air as she scrubbed Dani’s visor with a roll of gauze, more smearing the soot than removing it.

  “Visibility forty percent. Acceptable. My thanks.”

  “You sure it’s enough?” she said, still focusing on the bot’s front. Even her belly had withstood the heat. Go FireBots, go.

  “The recent situation suggests further relief is imminent. We are safe.”

  She again gawked at the Dvoraks, the mob as many or more than their Lux and Lexington battle. Her ears burned, keyed-in for another missile strike. “How you figure?”

  “Valkyrie, come back to me,” Nicky said. “Look.”

  The bodies parted to the left and right, though still active and agitated. A garage door rumbled, clicking to a foot open. Dani rotated and entered the undead procession-line. The FireBot overshot the turn and crashed into a loose grouping, arms still tight as she spun in place. Corpses clawed, climbed, and shuffled out of her way.

  Jessica massaged her forehead before raising her rifle. This time, Bunny was all too happy to point out a dozen sweet-spots. Forty percent visibility? More like ten. The added Dvorak goo probably didn’t matter. She ordered Nicky onward, who tethered the flaming Single-D in passing.

  The garage door opened to full before slamming down behind them.

  ~ 45 ~

  Survivors

  November 31, 4124 — 7:26 PM

  Jessica and Dillon hopped off Nicky’s box, shaking black snow from their hair and shoulders. Ayla and Kahn were quickly lowered and trotted circles around the bots. Dani swiveled, likely calculating probability of running into a box or some shit. Mark Eights should have echolocation, for sure.

  The main warehouse floor was clear; a pair of non-sentient power lifters stood humming by the door, plugs running into each. The florescent lights were a slight step below painful in their brilliance. She couldn’t see the generator, but she heard its thrum echoing from somewhere inside. Hundreds of crates lined the walls, many broken or upturned, canned goods and produce spilling across the concrete. The air felt warm enough, though the bone-chilling cold still penetrated the corrugated metal walls. For all the commotion outside, there wasn’t the tin-drum percussion she expected.

  “Nicky, Dani, good to see you,” a female voice called from an open-banister stairway. The empty-bellied FireBot was spray-painted in detailed black and white camouflage. Behind, two men aimed rifles at the new arrivals. She waved the barrels down with a matte-gray tentacle. “What have you brought with you?”

  “Somehow, I figured Holly would be more polite,” Jessica whispered to Nicky, plasma rifle behind her back, but hand in her pocket around her clipper. Dillon appeared unsettled as well, though his attention was deeper into the warehouse.

  “I wasn’t talking about you, Verdandi, merely asking if you’ve been followed.” She gracefully descended to level ground; the men stayed put.

  “Why’s it that no one call me by my name unless they’re pissed at me.”

  “Maybe you should appreciate the notoriety and respect you’ve earned,” Holly said, her tone light—she immediately reminded Jessica of Shannon, albeit without the sarcasm.

  “Held at gunpoint, ignored, disregarded, judged on my morals, tossed down holes, thrown around like a rag doll, and getting cockslapped with stale water. Sure, I get a lot of respect.” She unpocketed her hand and ran it through her hair. The men finally relaxed.

  “I didn’t expect her to whine so much,” The new voice also came from the stairs, the warehouse man from the roof, or rather, warehouse boy, who wore a pristine Marsden High School uniform. He was tailed by a slender girl about the same age. They shared silky, black hair to go with their eyes. His were narrowed. “Nice fucking job out there, trying to get us all killed?”

  “And where’s her shoes?” the girl said before staring pointedly at Dillon. “Y-You.”

  “Sig, Hilde, mind your manners now, we’re all on the same side.” Holly rolled close, visor blinking all the while. The FireBots’ silent conversation seemed to roll over each other.

  “Tell that to the new guys.” Sig huffed, then looked to men on the stairs. “Better get on watch.” They looked anywhere from twenty to two hundred years the boy’s senior, but nodded and left for the roof access.

  “We got a rule about these chats, Holly—”

  “A moment, Valkyrie, please.” Nicky continued his blinking.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I want the goddamn situation now!”

  “What a bitch,” Hilde said, now ground level and strutting a beeline for Dillon. Ayla yapped, filling the acre of empty space between wall to wall. Kahn slithered between Jessica and the approaching vanners. Hilde froze, eyes wide. “Oh. My. God!”

  The girl ran forward, sandals slapping the floor. Jessica fumbled for her wand. Too slow. Hilde dropped to her knees, sliding towards Kahn, whose hackles spiked as he hissed. In an eye blink, she covered fifty feet. Her arms wrapped around his chest, his forelegs off the ground. She squealed and hugged him like a stuffed bear. “He’s so cute!”

  Kahn panted. Ayla growled, the same as when Jacob would tug-of-war her squeaky-toys. Jessica retracted her wand, shook her head, and stepped dead-center in the robot circle-jerk. “Enough. You’re all caught up. Are you guys under attack or what?”

  “We’ve been under attack since we arrived,” Holly said, their visor light-show finally finished. “While your presence is welcome, your timing was terrible.”

  “When I said wait, I meant wait.” Sig climbed atop Holly, hands on her shoulders. “You have any idea how hard that was? I usually just blow missiles up, not catch them. Now I’m all tired and shit.”

  You’re tired?

  Holly picked it up. “First it was the Dvoraks, but by the time enough of them gathered to be a threat, we’d learned how to influence them. When Spangler came with your refugees, the siege tripled, but it still wasn’t a problem. Then Shannon was released. The Spire fell, the Sol-Union became aggressive, and we’ve been under constant harassment not just by missiles, but federal troops and military robots.”

  “That ain’t been much a bother either,” Sig said. “The deadies make it hard for them to start a ground assault, and peeps like me make it impossible to bomb us.”

  “But to what end? What’s your plan?” Jessica again looked over the warehouse. She hadn’t seen a single soul beyond the students and the two men. “How many do you have?”

  “Eighteen.” Holly’s voice softened even more. “We had fifty-three at our best. Many passed. Others wanted to leave. We’ve arranged white-flag pick-ups down the street for those with second thoughts.”

  “How could you—”

  “We can’t defend those who don’t want our protection. They would be a danger to themselves and us. We allow them the choice to seek federal relief. As to our plans—we are waiting it out. There was another warehouse in the eastern Industrial Park. They were coerced into face-to-face negotiations earlier today. Their final transmissions were…”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Her nails dug into her palms. “Is that the census? Twenty people and four Mark Sevens? We’re all here?”

  “If Spangler returns, yes. The other Sevens were on resupply and survivor searches when the EMP fried the relays. None have returned, and to be honest, aren’t expected to. Spangler volunteered to investigate Shannon’s Jetty. He was due back an hour ago.”

  “So we hole up here until we die.” Jessica said, her voice as cold as Nome’s sudden winter. Even Dillon looked at peace with it. “Meet God with our boots on and all that?”

  “Jessica…” Nicky said.

  “Miss Hall!” Dani jerked sideways, blindly knocking over a crate-pile of freezer-burned fruit. “Given the current variables and data sets, this location can withstand fifteen-point-three days und
er siege. And under median political models, there is a fifty-two percent chance of local Alaskan intervention in that timeframe.”

  “Best odds all day? It still won’t work. The feds will just detain all comers.”

  “But if the power weren’t in their hands.” Holly rolled back to the stairs—Sig took a familiar-looking seat on her medical box. God, if Jessica looked that pompous on her ‘throne’ she had second thoughts about ever taking it again. A male voice called from above. The FireBot relayed, “Hilde! The door.”

  Snapped from her dead-tiger-love-fest, the schoolgirl upturned a palm and raised it. The thick metal door flung open. Nicky and Dani screeched a reverse—Jessica simply fell on her ass as a frosty FireBot slid into the warehouse, a swirl of black snow in its wake. After two circular revolutions the bot tipped over, landing sideways.

  “Wooo Hooo!” Spangler cheered, tentacles raised in a heart-shape. Hilde slammed the door and resumed cooing Kahn, who still struggled in her grasp. Holly helped the bot upright. The boy on her box smiled all the while.

  “Dillon, don’t settle in.” Jessica felt lucky she hadn’t been crushed to jelly at the high-speed entrance. “I don’t think this is going to work any better than the last shit I got us into.”

  “John Dillon, right?” Hilde released Kahn, who sprinted to Ayla. The pair sniffled and nuzzled. Her attention back on the boy, her cheeks flushed, a stark enough contrast to her hair and eyes. “M-My name is Roxabel. This is my boyfriend, Freddie.”

  Nicky’s treads clicked, for whatever that was worth. Jessica was again at a loss for the significance of their nicknames versus their real ones.

  Dillon appeared amazed to be recognized. For once, black-eye to black-eye, vanner to vanner, there seemed a mutual respect, though Jessica bristled at the meeting of his newest fan-girl. “Oh, I remember you!” he said. “You stopped by my place for your first ink—an orchid.”

  “Dragon. Er. Dragon holding an orchid.” She lifted her T-shirt, the vibrant tattoo just above her low-rise pantywaist.