Daverex reflected on what Danival said for a moment. “Yeah. I suppose I do to.” His next thought was how fortunate he was to have learned of the limited life cycle of a Reaper before getting too serious with Tilly. Then he felt an immediate pang of sickening shame for thinking that. He swallowed some bile that had risen into his throat and quickly changed the subject. “I'm surprised you haven't asked me about the twin men behind me or about the hooded body.”
“In my line o' work I've learned when ta ask questions 'n when not ta ask questions, but most importantly, I've learned when ta patiently wait for answers.” Danival folded his arms and grinned.
Daverex whispered, “The body being carried belongs to a Ha-ha-kjo'un Fnikk. Hominid Hostage? I call them dead ringers.”
“I heard o' dem, a’yup. Never saw one in its natural form doe. Dead ringer's got a nice ring to it.” Danival chuckled.
Daverex continued whispering “I thought so. Anyway, I didn't want your son to know because it is a very scary-looking thing. The fellow carrying the dead ringer is Aegis. The other fellow is Fracas, his brother.”
“Interestin' names ya got dare. It's a pleasure ta make your acquaintances. Dan “da man” Danival at your service.” Danival nodded at the twins and smiled.
The twins returned Danival's nod and smile.
Daverex stopped whispering.“Aegis and Fracas are code names related to special abilities they possess. Aegis can heal and protect and Fracas can brawl like a beast. My code name is Deadeye because of my sharp-shooting ability. We're all part of a special guild. I really shouldn't say any more than that, even to you, my friend.”
“I can appreciate yer need fer secrecy. We all have our secrets. Daverex 'Deadeye'. Love it! Lo-ove it!” Danival said as he slapped his right knee and chuckled. Then he looked at the twins. “So den, where 'bouts y'all from?”
Aegis and Fracas looked at each other.
“What's da matter? Cat got yer tongues?” Danival laughed.
Daverex spoke up, “Ahh...actually, they were both born without tongues.”
Danival blushed, “Well, that was a major foe-par on my part. I'm really very sorry, fellas. I done put my whole foot inta my mouth 'n swallered de dang thing.”
The twins smiled and nodded.
“I think they understand, Dan,” said Daverex.
“Right. Well, the Cave o' Sorrows is 'bout a hundred-some miles from 'ere with rough terrain most da way dare. You're gonna be needin' a tough set o' wheels ta get ya thar, no doubt, 'n I just happen ta have one available.”
“Great!” said Daverex. “Can I borrow it from you for a short time?”
“Nope,” said Danival.
Daverex frowned and thought for a moment. Then he took out three pouches of dried berries and nuts, held them out towards Danival and said, “Can I rent it from you then?”
“Nope,” Danival said again as he pushed the pouches and Daverex's hand away.
Daverex's face portrayed a somber expression.
“Don't be givin' me dat sad 'n lost look neither. I ain't lettin' nobody drive 'er but me...and my son when he's old 'nough. What I will do is give ya a ride ta da cave 'n back.”
Daverex perked up and said, “Thank you.”
“Least I could do, I s'pose. Besides, I need ta stretch 'er legs and my own. It gets ta be a real drag bein' cooped up'n 'ere all de time.”
Daverex held out the three pouches of dried berries and nuts again and said with a grateful smile, “A little snack for the road.”
Danival took the pouches and said, “Much obliged.” Then he turned around and said, “Follow me.” He led Daverex and the twins towards the entrance to the parking lot, stopping to talk to his son. He tossed one of the pouches onto the counter and said “Hold down de fort while I'm gone, would ya?”
The boy pushed aside the old issue of Car Mechanics Magazine he had been flipping through and replaced it with the pouch. He opened the pouch and breathed in deeply the heavenly scent as though it were a brand new issue of Car Mechanics Magazine. Then he closed the pouch and placed it in one of his zippered pockets for later. He looked up at his father and said, “Sure thing, pa!”
“What's de golden rule, son?”
The boy sighed and said, “If'n dey ain't got da ingots ta spend, we ain't got da space ta park.”
Danival rubbed his son's buzz cut hair and said, “Dat's my boy!”
The boy grinned and blew another huge pink bubble with his chewing gum. When his father was about to walk through the exit, his son sucked in the bubble and then said, “Pa?”
“Yeah son?”
“Don't go in dat cave, okay?” The boy had a sudden expression of deep concern.
“I'll be fine. Don't worry,” Danival said, which didn't answer his son's question.
Danival took Daverex and the twins to a garage just off the vast parking lot, but near the building they were just in. The garage was as deep and tall as it was wide – a perfect square – with a width generous enough for two doors, each capable of accommodating a very large vehicle. Danival pushed a button on a small transponder he had attached to a ring of keys on his belt and the left garage door slowly lifted up to reveal an oversized dune buggy suspended on a car lift. The body of the vehicle was almost entirely a roll cage covered along the sides and undercarriage with dinged-up metal plating. Presumably this was designed to protect passengers from the usual weapons fire and explosions typical of any post-apocalyptic environment populated by competing factions. It could also be presumed that the plating was designed to repel random debris kicked up by the vehicle's triple thick all-terrain tires.
“Ain't she a beaut?” said Danival. “I call 'er Thunderclap on a count o' da noise she makes when I start 'er up. She's my pride 'n joy. After Dan Jr., of course.” Danival started pointing out the vehicle's highlights. “Bulletproof steel platin', puncture-proof tires 'n a fifty caliber machine gun mounted on de top like a cherry on a sweet treat. She'll tear across da landscape too, like a dust storm.”
“Impressive,” said Daverex. He pointed at the ornate nose of the vehicle. “And what's the story with that?”
“Ain't ya never seen a triceratops skull 'fore?”
“Yeah, just never one mounted on the front of a dune buggy.”
“Where else should I mount it? Over the garage? Won't get much use out o’ de ugly ting dat way. Least on Thunderclap it'll ram straight through just about anythin' not bolted down dat it hasn't already scared off. Interestin' story. Some multiverse-travelin' collector of exotic animal skulls got it from a planet dat still has dinosaurs! Can you imagine such a ting? Anyhoo, dis fella came 'ere to collect skulls from some of our critters 'n needed a safe place ta park his ride for a long spell. O' course he ain't had no ingots on him, so he swapped dis triceratops skull fer a full week's parkin' 'n protection of his ride.”
“Sounds like quite the adventurous type,” said Daverex.
“Don't he doe?” Danival sighed. “Often is da time I thought 'bout ditchin' dis place 'n hitchin' a ride ta adventure wit one o' de travelers I see comin' 'n goin' through 'ere. But I couldn't leave dis place fer very long. Doc Vasser needs my services 'n I owe dat much ta 'er 'n den some. Look at me blabberin' on like an idiot. So, dose twin fellas comin' with?”
Daverex looked back at Aegis and Frakas and briefly admired their patients thus far. “We're all kind of a package deal, yeah. Why?”
Danival lifted his trucker cap and scratched his greasy, untamed hair. “Well, Thunderclap's only got but two seats total 'n a place ta stand behind da fifty cal.”
Daverex walked all the way around the vehicle for a cursory study of its structure. He did so a second time with a curious Danival following close behind. Daverex used what he learned about engineering during his years within the Tech'er complex as he studied the vehicle's exterior much more closely. He finally stopped at the rear and knelt down, peering at something intently. Then he looked up at Danival and said, “Do you think we could mount a storage box here big
enough to hold the dead ringer and a chair with a strap on top of it for one of the twins? Their combined weight should be balanced out by the weight of the triceratops skull mounted on the front.”
Danival hesitated for a moment and then said, “I reckon it'd be doable, but wouldn't de storage box be kinda rough fer yer friend? 'N what 'bout breathin'? Only storage box I got dat'll work's airtight.”
Daverex rose to his feet, faced Danival and crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “That thing is not my friend. The box will do. I suppose we should drill holes in the box in case it needs to breath. Very small holes.”
“Fair 'nough den. We best get ta workin',” Danival said and then he and Daverex got busy on the new modifications. Aegis and Fracas helped with the heavy lifting and holding in place of the add-ons. Soon they were done and the twins arm wrestled to see who would get to sit in the comfortable passenger seat and who would have to sit in the exposed, makeshift rear seat. Fracas won and hopped into the passenger seat, but then he always won. Aegis shoved the dead ringer into the tight-fitting storage box and then strapped himself into the rear seat. Daverex, being the best shooter in the group, naturally took the position behind the machine gun. The three now anxiously waited on the driver.
Danival yelled out to his son, “Mind the desk while I'm gone!”
“Sure thing, Pa!” Danival Jr. yelled back.
Danival then unlocked a chest with a key from his belt. He opened the chest and picked up a high-powered rifle from within. He checked that it was fully loaded, chambered a round and then pocketed several extra clips of ammunition. He hopped into the driver's seat and said, “Let's rock 'n roll 'em out! Sandra, play Danival's mix number three.” A moment later, a sultry female voice came from the speakers saying, “Playing Danival's mix number three.” Another moment later AC/DC's Highway To Hell blared from the speakers.
Danival placed his left hand on the steering wheel and his right thumb on the push-button ignition. After a few seconds the button lit up green, indicating that the vehicle's onboard computer recognized his thumbprint. Then he pushed the button and the engine tried to turn over, but failed. He tried pushing the button again, this time holding it in a bit longer. The engine sputtered for several seconds and then roared to life, only to then promptly shut off. Danival smacked his left hand on the wheel several times in frustration and then said to Fracas, “Third time's the charm!”
Fracas smiled at Danival nervously and griped his seat tightly.
Danival pushed the ignition button a third time as he said under his breath, “Come on, baby! Do it for daddy!” After a few seconds of sputtering and an ear-splitting exhaust backfire, the engine again roared to life.
Danival gradually pressed his foot down on the accelerator pedal twice, making the engine sound like a muscle car/semi truck hybrid as plumes of black smoke arose from the smokestack on the rear of the vehicle. When it seemed the engine wasn't going to stall again, he picked up a microphone from between the seats and spoke into it so all could hear. “Welcome to Thunderclap Transport Services. Our estimated travel time to de Cave o' Sorrows is one hour. De weather taday’s a balmy seventy-six degrees wit a twenty percent chance o' acid rain 'n a toxic atmosphere in de moderate ta high range. De ride'll be a bumpy one, so please strap yerselves in tight. Also, please keep yer arms 'n legs tight ta yer body at all times. If'n we roll over, loose body parts will snap off. I'm yer driver today, Dan “da man” Danival, 'n I aim ta make de journey as pleasant 'n incident free as possible.”
Daverex strapped himself into the leather harness that tethered him to the machine gun turret.
Aegis apprehensively tied around his waist and chest the rope that served as a makeshift seatbelt, his automatic rifle nestled securely in his lap, ready to be fired at anyone or anything that got too close.
Fracas and Danival strapped themselves into the thick repurposed race car seatbelts attached to the cabin seats. Then Danival wrapped his left hand around the cue ball-sized, flaming skull-decorated gear shift knob and shifted into drive. Thunderclap peeled out of the garage and soon made its way off road towards the Cave of Sorrows.
CHAPTER SEVEN
D averex was impressed by the speed at which the rather unsightly beast of a dune buggy traversed the rough terrain, especially considering the hefty added weight it was burdened with. He turned the machine gun to one side and then leaned forward over the turret to check the speedometer located on the dashboard below, though the violent rattling of the vehicle's frame forced him to use his time-slowing ability long enough to read the numbers clearly. According to the readout, they were traveling at eighty-two miles per hour. He whistled.
Danival caught Daverex looking at the speedometer and said, “I've only got 'er in third. Figured I best not push it less'n we get inta some trouble we can't get outa. I had 'er up ta one thirty-seven on dis very stretch o' terrain de udder day. Part o' dat's 'cause o' de engine, sure. But mostly it's 'cause o' de biofuel. Comes from giant cave bats. Dey grow big 'n mean from eatin' nothin' but dem nasty 'shrooms what grow in da Cave o' Sorrows. Da bats sleep most da time, but woe ta de fool what wakes even one 'o dem. De one dat wakes screeches somethin' awful, den ya got a whole mess 'o dem buggers rarin' ta tear ya a new one! Anyhoo, da biofuel's expensive, so I'm hopin' ta gadder up a good bit o' giant bat guano while we're in da cave 'n make my own biofuel, truth be told. Dat's somehin' I could never hope ta do on my own. So, ya help me quietly gadder up a heap o' guano 'n I help ya in a fight if'n da guano hits de fan, so ta say. I also happen ta be pretty keen at trapfindin'. Deal?”
Daverex was grateful just to get a more than capable ride to his destination, so without hesitation he said, “Deal!” and stretched his arm to shake Danival's hand through the windowless opening. Then Daverex repositioned himself behind the machine gun and got as comfortable as the confined space would allow, satisfied with how smoothly this new mission had gone so far.
Approximately forty minutes later, Daverex noticed the air getting suddenly thicker and more cloudy, like a dense fog rolling in. Only, fog is the result of cool air and the air was a very long way from cool. He knew something was not right – that he and his companions were likely riding straight into a trap – yet he could not think of what to do. It was as though his thought processes were shutting down. He felt strangely very calm when he should have been panicking and then he noticed that his breathing was becoming shallow. He forced more oxygen into his uncooperative lungs. He squinted his eyes, trying hopelessly to see through a fog that was rapidly growing in density. Soon he saw only dim light that died away into darkness.
Daverex had a vision of Tilly smiling at him and giggling happily as she nibbled on a mushroom. Then her beautiful face melted away like wax from a waning candle. Thunderclap ran over a line of low bushes, jarring Daverex awake. He took in a sharp and deep breath, his lungs burning and aching for air. The impact from the bushes caused the vehicle to swerve sharply to the right. Daverex held tightly onto the turret railing, expecting the vehicle to topple over. When he realized it wasn't going to, he looked down into the vehicle's cabin to see that both Danival and Fracas were slumped over with only their seatbelts keeping them in their seats. Danival's hands were no longer on the steering wheel, but his foot was still firmly fixed on the accelerator pedal!
Daverex slowed time and looked at the speedometer. They were now darting across uncertain terrain at one hundred thirty-three miles per hour! Daverex's eyes went wide, not so much because of the speed, but because he realized that his ability to slow time was then suddenly gone! He had trouble concentrating again and grasped that that must be the reason his ability was suddenly failing him. He started to see that familiar dim light before the darkness and shook his head violently, briefly chasing it away.
Daverex had a flash of an idea. First, he grasped the steering wheel with one hand to steady it, while with the other he reached over to the side of Danival's chair and grabbed his rifle by the barrel. Next, he smacked Danival in the shin wit
h the butt of the rifle. Daverex was disheartened to discover that Danival did not wake up from the pain he surely would have felt, but his foot was knocked off the accelerator at least. Lastly, Daverex placed the rifle butt on the brake pedal and gradually applied increasing pressure until Thunderclap finally came to a stop. Unfortunately, its temperamental engine then immediately shut off. He reached over and smacked Fracas hard across the face. The big man's head jerked sideways, but he did not stir. Daverex then moved to the opposite side of the turret and leaned over to see Aegis also slumped over. Daverex shook him violently, but to no avail. Everyone onboard Thunderclap – and even Thunderclap herself – was utterly inoperative.
Daverex grew deeply concerned as he retook his position behind the fifty cal. He took out a heavily caffeinated power bar from a pouch on his environmental suit, pushed it through a specially designed vacuum tube connected to his helmet and ate it, hoping it would help stave off the powerful effects of the poison fog. Then, with the control pad on his forearm, he turned on the binoculars built into his suit helmet. He scanned the perimeter, moving the fifty cal. On its turret as he did so. Now he knew that his danger sense ability was also failing him, because if it had been working, he would know where a threat was. Luckily, he did not need that ability to know that an ambush was both nearby and imminent.
As he awaited to be attacked, Daverex deduced that a toxin within the mysterious fog was somehow suppressing brain activity and that his environmental suit must be hampering its effects. Still, it must have been a powerful toxin indeed for it to be affecting him so strongly despite his wearing the advanced environmental suit. He hoped his traveling companions would wake up and lend a hand, but he did not count on it.
Daverex heard a whistling through the fog a fraction of a second before something small and hard hit the left side of the turret. He turned the machine gun in the direction of the flying object and shot a small burst from the big gun, hoping that his would-be ambushers were skittish, though he did not count on that either. Then he zoomed in tighter with the binoculars. He saw nothing besides barren landscape. He turned off the binoculars and looked over at the impact of the small object that hit the turret. There was a tiny round dent where it hit, as would be caused by a stone traveling at a high velocity. He peered down at the ground and saw a polished round stone standing out against the tan sand that was gradually swallowing it up.
Deadeye- Episode II Page 6