by Andy Remic
Dex stumbled on, his progress hindered by the thin rope biting into his wrists. It was so damn humiliating. After all the high tech battles he’d been through, to be taken down by a man with a bow and arrow, and - he confirmed it -yes. Green tights. He’d been taken out of the game by a fucking cross-dresser in nylons.
“Wonderful,” he groaned.
Soon, noises came to his ears. The familiar sounds of cars on tracks, the rumbling of rollercoaster rides, the chatter of excited voices, screams of exhilaration as cars plummeted down the vertical drops. Dex frowned. What the hell was going on? Where were these freaks taking him?
“Don’t worry,” beamed Robin, as he strode ahead, slapping his thigh occasionally, “all will be revealed, adventurer!”
They burst from the dense undergrowth to reveal - a Robin Hood themed section!
Dex groaned. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered.
There were all manner of rides and attractions: rollercoasters built through, around, and vertically down into the giant trees; a replica of a castle under siege with huge siege engines thundering and throwing missiles at shattered battlements; a village fair, with barrels of water and peasants milling around, chasing chickens and braiding young girls’ hair. There were jesters, and horses, and mud, and dung. There were more rides, further through the theme section clearing, just for the kiddies - giant leaves on tracks, fairies and dryads and all manner of forest folk.
Dex looked over at Robin.
“I’m not really a prisoner, am I?”
“Of course not, ha, ha, ha!” boomed Robin. “Release him! He has enjoyed our themed adventure, I think? No? See the twinkle in his eye? He enjoyed that, I think! Am I right or am I right?”
“Can I have my Makarov back?”
“Of course!” beamed Robin, and gave Dex the weapon whilst slapping his thigh. “Would you like to come to Nottingham Castle and meet the Sheriff? We’re really rather good friends, you know. Except when we are jousting! Hurrah!”
“You’re mad,” said Dex, lips compressed tight.
“No, no! We’re Robin Hood and his Merry Mentals! Hurrah!”
“What was all that with the SIMs?”
“Hmm?”
“The killing. The slaughter.”
“The SIMs know not to come on our turf. These are our tourists. This is our themed section. There is no trespassing between sections. Or else we are forced to put the SIMs out of action.”
Dex scratched his head. “So I can go?”
“Of course! Go on, into the ride central. Enjoy the leaves and acorns, the dung and peasants! Hurrah! I can personally recommend the High Tree Vertical Drop. There are naked nymphs inside that ride!” He gave a hearty wink, and Dex was sure, if he’d allowed it, Robin would have slapped his thigh.
“Okay. Okay. I’m going.”
Dex had it in mind to skip the village, head back into the woods and try and rediscover his hover bike. The only problem with that was that more SIMs might have caught up with the situation and found the bodies, and he’d be walking straight into the heart of another damn fire-fight. Last thing he needed.
Dex walked through the peasant village and glanced back, to see Robin and Friar Tuck waving at him. He was sure he could see the gleam of machine madness in their eyes. It was certainly a situation he’d never forget... as indeed was the whole holiday on Theme Planet. Monolith Corporation had made damn sure of that!
A huge rollercoaster reared over him as he walked, weaving in and out amongst the trunks and thick branches of mammoth hardwoods. Some of the trunks were green, yellow and red, and Dex idly wondered how they had managed to alter the colour of bark; but then, maybe these were alien trees, or imported from far away exotic lands where the natural colouring of such flora was different from the usual boring old Earth shades?
An explosion detonated behind Dex, and he stopped and turned. Everyone else in the village stopped also, and chatter ceased - which meant this was not a usual occurrence, or part of the local theme. Smoke rolled up through leaves, and there came the unmistakable rattle of SMKK fire.
“Shit,” muttered Dex, and hurried on, between the trees supporting the vast rollercoaster. Another detonation, up ahead this time, closer than the last. Amazingly, despite an obvious fire-fight kicking off in the forest, the rides continued to run - and even more amazing, punters continued to scream and giggle. Eyes were turned, yes, and Dex realised with a start that they thought it was just the beginning of some kind of show! Another cabaret! There was no fear. No panic. The bloody tourists thought it was all a game!
Dex started to run, but more explosions rioted through the jungle. More SMKK fire rattled, and several errant arrow shafts hummed through the clearing. One struck a woman in the shoulder, punching her back off her feet. Somebody screamed, panic swept through the village, and people started to run...
SIMs appeared, and Dex groaned. From the corner of his eye he saw Robin Hood and his Merry Mentalists, and arrows hissed and snapped across the village in expert volleys. SMKKs roared, and Dex ducked, veering left under a row of support struts. He ran, behind a group of women and children. Up ahead, more SIMs appeared.
“DO NOT PANIC! DO NOT RUN! YOU WILL BE SHOT IF YOU RUN!”
SMKKs roared, and three of the women up ahead were punched from their feet in a bloodbath of spinning steel. Children screamed. Grimly, Dex drew his Makarov and began firing. Bullets chewed into two SIM faces, and they were knocked back, spewing blood and brains from gaping holes. The third caught a bullet in the neck, and Dex leapt forward, slapping his boot on the SMKK arm and gazing down at the wounded Justice SIM.
“What the fuck are you doing, motherfucker?” he snarled.
“THIS AREA IS UNDER CLAMPDOWN. THE AIS HAVE REBELLED. WE ARE TAKING THE FOREST OF IRON BACK UNDER CONTROL FROM MONOLITH.”
“You’re shooting women and children, you dumb bastards!”
“The area is under clampdown. I repeat, the area is under...” Dex put a bullet in the SIM’s face, smashing his mechanical eyes. He pocketed his Makarov and picked up the SMKK, stashing five magazines from the SIM’s belt. SIMs were notoriously a bastard to drop. The more firepower he had, the better...
Dex glanced around, breathing deep. Smoke plumed from twenty or thirty explosion sites now. Everywhere, people seemed to be running, all in different directions - which suggested to Dex that the SIMs had surrounded them. More guns roared, and more tourists went down in bloody mists of torn and tattered limbs.
Dex ducked sideways, and caught sight of at least ten SIMs advancing on him. “The day just gets better and better.” Behind him was a hollowed-out tree, a doorway, and Dex ran inside, to find a spiral stairway leading up. Guns roared, and bullets chewed at the door frame beside Dex’s head. He sprinted up the steep stairs, bullets chasing his heels and throwing up splinters of wood. Upwards he ran, realising with sinking dread that this had to be either a tree-top restaurant or the entrance to a fucking rollercoaster. Just what I need. A fucking rollercoaster ride in the middle of a firefight!
Outside, screams tore through the village. There was another series of explosions, and from a window Dex glimpsed Robin Hood striding towards a cluster of SIMs, firing arrows in a smooth, steady stream... guns rounded on the AI, and he went down in a flurry of tangled limbs, torn flesh, stitched nylon and Lincoln green.
“So much for his rebellion,” muttered Dex, and paused on the stairwell at a particularly tight corner. He cocked the SMKK, leaned slightly around the corner, and waited. There came the stomp of heavy boots, and Dex tried to work out how many SIMs were chasing him - he couldn’t be sure. There was more than one, at least. And that was too many.
A SIM appeared, mechanical eyes gleaming in the sunlight, and stopped abruptly on seeing Dex, so that the SIM behind him cannoned into him. Dex shrugged, and opened the SMKK hard and full. Bullets screamed, deafening in the confines of the stairwell, and the lead SIM’s face disintegrated, hands coming up in supplication far, far too late. Dex kept the trigger p
ulled, and as the first SIM tumbled back the second got it in the face, then the third, fourth and fifth. Dex released the trigger. Smoke filled the stairwell. The pile of SIM bodies caused a blockage, and that could only be a good thing. Blood trickled down the stairs, and turning, Dex ran on up, face grim, mood worse than bad, good humour all gone and pissed away in a nuclear storm. “Those bastards,” he said, and arrived on a high platform. A cool breeze caught him by surprise, and he gasped, and looked out across the Forest of Iron. Trees rippled, to the edge of his vision.
Unfortunately, this was no tree-top restaurant with bridges and lifts to other restaurants - like Dex had seen in the brochures. Oh, no. How could Dex ever be that lucky? This was a one-way stairwell to the beginning of a vast rollercoaster ride. It spread out before him, twisting and turning and vast, a single thick metal rail zipping and winding between high tree trunks and branches like a singular strand of thick green spaghetti. He looked to his right: there were ride CARs, but they had stopped. The whole thing seemed to have powered down - which meant no way out. Dex was trapped...
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he ran to the guard rails and climbed over. His boots hit the thick metal rollercoaster track with a solid thud. Glancing up, ahead, he paled a little at the wide open expanse, with vast drops to either side. He glanced below him, to see the SIMs gathering like insects around sugar. More guns rattled, and tourists were mown down like skittles. Dex heard boots on the stairwell; obviously more SIMs pursuing. He had to move, and had to move fast...
He ran, thudding along the rollercoaster track.
“The human must stand still!”
“Yeah, right, fuckers.” He fired off a volley from the SMKK, then ducked under a thick bough, grabbing it to steady himself. The world was a tapestry beneath him. For a second, the whole image wobbled and Dexter felt very, very sick - as if the track and everything connected to it was going to uproot, and spin up above him. His hands clasped the bough tight as vertigo swamped him, and his eyes closed, and his insides churned. Not now, oh, God, not now!
Bullets whined past Dex, chipping the rail and sending sparks flashing around him. He grunted, let go of the tree and sprinted on, boots crashing down, SMKK gripped tight, head flashing with thoughts of murder and death. The world spun beneath him, and Dex gritted his teeth, his body cleaving through warm air. Tree branches whipped him like a mistress, only most mistresses wouldn’t want you dead; well, not generally.
Up ahead, he saw a stalled CAR. Inside sat four tourists, strapped in tight, looking around in confusion; stupidity surrounded them like toxic perfume. One, a tall thin man with a hooked nose, was feebly whining for help. Dex sprinted to the CAR, grabbed it, climbed over the roof and landed at the front. The riders were gawping at him, eyes drawn unconsciously to the SMKK.
“This whole place is under attack!” Dex shouted. “You’ve got to get out, find an emergency ladder down to the ground. You understand?”
“Hey, you’ve no right to shout at us like that! “ stormed a red-faced woman in an obscenely tight bikini, which bulged like a sack of wriggling eels. She was flowing out all over the place. It made Dex shudder.
Dex gave a brief, tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and carried on running, as more shouts followed him.
The track wound between trees, and hit a sudden vertical drop, which climbed into a loop. Dex stopped dead, mouth agape. “Aww, bollocks,” he muttered. He looped the SMKK’s strap over his head, turned and hooked his fingers into the thick central chain, and edged himself over the drop. It was heavy with grease, and the climb tortured his fingers, but with no other option Dex started to creep downwards. He picked up the pace as bullets whined around him once again, and there were shouts, more bullets, then screams. Dex didn’t dare look; he was too focused on his descent.
He heard the fat woman whining and complaining. It soon ended.
After what seemed an eternity, and with fingers aching, he dropped the last few feet to the beginning of the loop. He swayed giddily, holding out his hands for balance, and then turned and looked up at the vast loop - spying an access hatch. Of course! There’d have to be some emergency procedure in case a CAR got stuck near the top of the loop. Dex ran to it, and heaved on the heavy door between the tracks. Inside, Dex saw a ladder to the top of the loop, and a tunnel shortcutting it altogether. He ducked into the door as a fresh hail of bullets fell about him, then turned, peered around the hatch and waited -watching five SIMs begin the descent of the vertical drop.
“Let me give you something to think about,” Dex muttered, flicking the SMKK to single shots. He lined up the SIMs and started, casually, cracking off rounds. Sparks fluttered and the SIMs looked around. Two attempted return fire but nearly lost their grips on the track chain, slick with grease. Dex fired off more rounds, and managed to hit two of the SIMs, who grunted, but did not fall. Dex flicked the SMKK to automatic, and began spraying the SIMs. It took a couple of minutes, but he hit them all, watched them plummet from the vertical drop, bounce from the rollercoaster track, and soar off into the vast forest below. More SIMs appeared at the top, and opened fire. Dex ducked back into the tunnel and ran for it.
He carried on running, back out into the open. The rollercoaster track wound around more trees, twisting and turning.
Then, up ahead, he heard a deep bass roaring. Dex frowned. That sounds like... water? A waterfall? A big waterfall?
As Dex emerged from the trees, his mouth dropped. A canyon divided the forest, a huge expanse of emptiness; the rollercoaster track cruised out over the abyss, high above the trees, sunlight dazzling from wheel-polished steel, with - apparently - nothing holding it steady, or even in place. A broad river snaked through the thick woods, dizzyingly far below him. Ahead of him could be seen a vague outline, where the track seemed to reconnect with the land, into a wide, sparkling waterfall cascading off the far side of the canyon. Streamers of water spun off, silver and glittering, into the abyss.
“Holy shit,” said Dex, eyes swivelling down as if on stalks. That was a long way to fall. A long way. All the way down into oblivion. But where else could he go? What else could he do?
He started to jog, slowly, across the expanse. Sunlight burned his face, dazzling him. He readied the SMKK, because - well, if those SIMs caught up with him, he’d have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He hurried his pace, boots pounding the rollercoaster track, mind racing faster than his boots. This high up there was a cross-breeze, rocking Dex with occasional gusts. He picked up his pace yet further, trying to ignore the vast drop, the roar of the waterfall, the dazzle of the sun and the impending threat of those SIM bastards...
A chopping noise droned in the distance, and from nowhere - at incredible speed -a sleek, black helicopter tore into view. Dex stopped, suddenly, panic kicking through him. The chopper rolled around and levelled, rotors screaming and threatening to blast Dex from the track. Dex couldn’t see the pilot within the tinted cockpit, but the intention was clear as he stared at the twin miniguns. Dex was caught out in the open with his pants down.
“Throw down the machine gun, dickhead.”
Dex dropped the SMKK to the track with a clatter. Despair ran through him, and he glanced at the long, long fall to the winding river. It was too far. Way too far. He’d snap his spine if he dove off. He’d be crushed on impact, water or no...
“Put your hands above your head,” came the instruction.
Dex complied, glancing back and seeing the pursuing SIMs arriving. Now he was fucked. More fucked than fucked. Now, he was taking a bite from a ripe shit sandwich, and the worse thing was, there’d be no dessert. Because he’d be dead. And his wife and children would be dead. Now, there was no future, and no hope...
The SIMs had stopped at the edge of the rollercoaster bridge. They didn’t raise their weapons or come after him. Dex frowned, and glanced back to the chopper. The noise was terrific, smashing through his head like a bad whiskey hangover. Dex’s mouth was dry, filled with fear and loathing. Fear for his
kids. Loathing for himself. He’d fucked up. Thought he could take on the Big Boys and play in their Big Pond. Well, he’d been wrong. He’d shot himself in the foot, fucked himself up the arse. And now, as the saying went, it was Time to Die...
The chopper veered right to hover over the track, blocking Dex from the beckoning waterfall and, no doubt, some form of escape tunnel beyond. An alloy ladder was kicked from the chopper and a figure climbed out, descending awkwardly to drop onto the bridge. It was a man. He wore a cream suit. One leg was torn and bloodstained, and his knee was strapped up nice and tight.
It was Jim. Jim turned to stare at Dex, his eyes bleak.
The chopper backed off, perhaps a hundred metres, leaving the two men alone on the high bridge.
A cool breeze blew, ruffling Dex’s short brown hair. “Fucking wonderful,” he muttered, and lowered his hands, turning to face the Theme Planet policeman - or whatever the hell he was. Monolith Corporation? Earth government? Who even knew anymore?