by David Ryker
“Come on,” I said, pulling Everett along.
We followed the wake, traversing the raised earth. The stench of burning fuel and scorched metal was thick in the air, but apart from the flickering of the fires, nothing was moving.
“Where are the others?” Everett asked, knowing I didn’t have an answer.
“They’ll be here,” I muttered in reply, my right hand held up to my chest by the opening of my jacket.
She didn’t reply, but her silence told me that she was as unsure of that notion as I was.
Another three bursts of energy chased us to the crash site. By the third one, we’d stopped looking up. The Free were getting the hell out of Dodge, and that was good. If they were, then it meant that they weren’t sticking around for us, and that they also expected the Federation to turn up — or at least that was our reasoning.
The Tilt-wing had come down into a plain similar to the one I’d landed in. In the far distance I could see the jagged blue outlines of mountains, but otherwise, the soft rolling hills were featureless save for a few emaciated patches of desert grass.
It had its nose buried in the earth and was sitting off-kilter. The one remaining wing had snapped off during the crash and was sticking out of the ground fifty meters away. The charred nub of the other wing was held aloft, flames licking the jagged metal end. Smoke poured into the swampy air, black and acrid. The hull looked badly damaged, but reasonably together from what was available above the ground. The rear doors were still open but were about three meters up off the bottom of the trench, and gray smoke curled lazily out of them.
We stood on the raised bank and stared down at it. There were no signs of the others, and no signs of Volchec either. I turned back toward the trees, staring at the long trail of torn ground, studying the angle that it’d cut through them. Volchec had done all she could to keep it level, but without engines, and only one wing, it was never going to work. The Tilt-wings weren’t designed to glide, either. It was a miracle she’d done what she did.
A pang of guilt and sadness rose up in me and I crammed it down. No time for that now. I held up my good hand, Everett still leaning on me, and pointed to the snapped trunks in the distance. “She came in shallow,” I said, my hand mimicking the ship. “Mac bailed out first — or maybe Fish. Alice was last — then Greg went — but it was a few seconds before we managed to get our chutes on… It…” I stammered and cleared my throat. “It happened so fast, but if we were doing a few thousand clicks — then every second between them and us—”
“Nearly a kilometer,” she said quietly.
“What was it between Alice and us — ten? Fifteen? Twenty? And that’s not even accounting for glide or…” I let the explanation go, sighed and shook my head. Another burst of energy washed through us and we staggered a little. “They could be anywhere — might take them hours, days even, to get back.”
“If they survived the fall at all.”
Her words hung in the still air and we turned back to the Tilt-wing, the light of the fading sun finally cooling on the side of my face. On the dusk side, my skin began to goosepimple. As hot as it was in the day, I knew it was going to be below zero at night. I could feel it coming. Thin atmosphere, no doubt. “We should try and get inside,” I said, looking for a way to get to the doors. “We’ll freeze to death otherwise.”
Everett nodded, looking back at the treeline. The darkness had gathered quickly between the trunks, a thin mist already starting to linger. I followed her eyes and shivered. I didn’t know if it was the cold, or something else, but looking back at the forest we’d come through, grave and malformed, gave the eerie sense that something had its eyes on us.
“You don’t think anything actually lives here, do you?” My voice sounded tinny in my ears.
Everett turned to look at me. Her eyes twitched as she scanned my face, maybe for reassurance. That’s what I was looking for in hers. “I don’t know — but I don’t want to be out here in the dark, just in case.”
As soon as she finished the last word, the fog started to spill out of the trees and a chilling howl cut through the dusk air.
Another burst of energy rippled down through the atmosphere and the last of the clouds disintegrated overhead. Stars shone down in silence from an empty sky, letting us know that the last of the Free ships had cleared out. It was just us, and whatever was lurking in the trees.
The sky was the color of blood by the time we turned back to the ship, and neither of us dared look back at the trees again.
2
It took us fifteen minutes to find the crate, twenty to dig it out, and ten to drag it over.
It was half buried in the impact wake, tossed from the ship as it landed. It was one of the equipment crates from the hold, and was tall enough on its side that when we stood on it we could reach the ramp.
It had been an ordeal. I had one good arm, and Everett could barely stoop down. To get it out of the dirt we’d had to use chunks of shrapnel as spades, hacking away at it until our hands were bloodied. By the time we’d gotten to the bottom edge, half a meter down, our breath was misting in front of our faces and the sweat on the back of our necks had crystallized in ice.
“Come on,” Everett kept muttering between winces. I wasn’t sure if it was to herself or to me.
We kicked the box out of the dirt and onto its side and dragged it over inch by inch. Neither of us had the strength or the mobility to get underneath it and push it end over end.
More howls joined the chorus as the last light of the day began to fade. If we hadn’t been working so hard, we would have likely frozen before we even got to the ship. The cold night air had snuffed out the flames altogether and the smoke had stopped.
Neither of us dared look back toward the twisted forest, to what was waiting there. What they were waiting for, we didn’t know. Maybe they were curious and wanted to know what the fuck we were doing. Maybe they were waiting for us to keel over from the cold so they wouldn’t have to run us down. Maybe they were wondering whether venturing out of the woods was worth the meager meal.
The box ground to a stop underneath the ramp and Everett looked at me, no more than an outline in the darkness. “You first,” she said hurriedly.
I shook my head. “No, you get up first. With your ribs — I’ll boost you.”
“You’ve only got one fucking arm!” she hissed. We were both cautious about our volume. We didn’t want to attract any more attention than was necessary. I had my Arcram, sure, but by the pitch and the volume of the howls, I didn’t know whether it would be of any use.
“Exactly — I’m not going to be able to climb very well, and I’m sure as fuck not going to be able to lift you.” I swallowed, seeing her eyes twinkling in the starlight, full and scared. “Get up, find something to hoist me with, and pull me up.”
“I won’t be able to lift you — you’re heavier than I am, and my ribs—”
“We don’t have time to argue,” I snapped, going to a knee. The crate was almost a meter and a half tall on its end, but getting up on it was the first challenge. I slapped my thigh to show her where to step. “Come on.” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice. She was a good person, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew that every second we wasted was another bit of body heat lost, another bit of energy wasted, and another second for whatever the hell was howling in the trees to decide that if it didn’t act quickly, its dinner was going to be out of reach.
She took a breath and stepped up, the sole of her boot cutting into my skin. I gritted my teeth and took hold of her knee and calf with my good hand. She hauled herself onto the crate and I steadied it while she reached up for the ramp. It was flat, like a platform, hanging off the ship, and was level with her collarbone. She put both elbows on it and grunted in pain, pushing onto her toes on the crate.
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at the treeline. The howls had stopped now — I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Maybe whatever was in there was waiting until it was truly d
ark. Hunting in the day would be difficult in the heat — so it made sense they were nocturnal.
I took Everett’s heel in my hand and guided it up to my good shoulder. “Ready?” I called up, reaching for her other boot.
She pushed into my shoulder and lifted her other foot. I planted the palm of my hand on it, braced my knees, and then shoved upward with everything I had.
She rose into the air, scrabbled on the steel of the ramp, and then she was gone, her legs swinging over with a pained curse.
I sighed and keeled backward, shivering in the cold. My back hit the ground and I breathed hard. I could barely catch my breath and every lungful of air stung. It had to be well below freezing already.
“Everett,” I said meekly, not sure I could even get up. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice echoed from the pitch dark hold. “I’m looking for something to pull you up, but it’s a goddamn shitshow in here.”
I nodded, knowing she wouldn’t see it.
“Hold on.” Her voice was distant, echoing from deeper in the ship. “I might have something.”
I stared into the clear night sky and saw no moon. Barely any starlight was reaching the surface, and I could scarcely make out my hand in front of my face. All the light had faded from the surface now, and a breeze had picked up. The trees rustled behind me like armor plates grating over each other. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I turned instinctively.
Footsteps. Had I imagined it? A trick of the wind? They sounded heavy and slow. It was the faintest crunch of frosted earth, carried on the breeze.
Something bounced on the ground between my feet and I tore my attention away from where I knew the forest to be. I squinted into the dirt in front of me, but I couldn’t see anything.
Something flashed above me and I screwed my eyes up, shielding them with my hand. Everett had a flashlight. She was standing on the edge of the ramp, looking down. She trained it on the steel hook she’d tossed me. I could see a braided cable stretching into the air and disappearing over the edge.
“It’s a safety line for spacewalks,” she said breathlessly. She’d scrambled back up the tilted hull, and judging by the angle of the ship, it was a steep slope. “The electric motor is shot, but there’s a ratchet-winch. I can reel it in and haul you up. Get yourself secured and—”
She broke off, her eyes widening in the residual glare of the torch. She swung the beam away from my feet and over my head, sweeping across the wake of the ship. She swore, slicing back towards me with it. “Quickly, Red, for fuck sake!”
“What is it?” I said, my heart hammering as I scrambled forward for the hook.
She pulled the beam back up and went for the trees again. Stupidly, I stopped, the line in my hand, and followed where she was pointing. The light died about a hundred meters from the ship, but beyond, in the darkened glow, shapes were moving, leaping out of the way of the roving searchlight. I froze, watching as Everett chased them, catching nothing but the pale white glint of their enlarged retinas, shining in the blackness like fiery orbs.
“Fucking move!” she yelled suddenly. Whether she’d seen something I hadn’t, I couldn’t say, but the panic in her voice was enough to make me rush.
The flashlight hit the ground next to my knee as I looped the line around my chest, pushed it under my bad arm, and clipped it in front of my chin. It was thin, and was going to cut into my skin — but that was the least of my worries.
I heard Everett sliding and grunting down the hold as she went for the winch and I snatched up the light. It was no bigger than a cucumber, and I stuffed it under my chin, awkwardly reaching under my left armpit with my left hand to get to my Arcram.
I felt the tug of the line snapping tight and the flashlight came loose. Reflexively I reached down and snatched it out of the air with my right. The pain made black spots dance in my vision, shooting into my neck and across my chest. I held on with everything I could, pushing my right hand back up with the back of my Arcram until it was against my shoulder. I pressed my cheek into the end of the flashlight to keep it steady and crossed my left arm, pinning my right elbow against my ribs.
The line tightened again and I got to my feet, turning toward the trench, my back to the ship. I was locked in position, turning back and forth with the flashlight to illuminate the earth, but it was catching nothing except the raised ridges of dirt. No sign of whatever the hell was coming for us.
I heard Everett yell, cranking with everything she had. “Get on the fucking crate!”
I kicked back with my heel, feeling for it, still searching the space behind the ship frantically.
My boot hit metal and I raised it up, hooking my toe over the edge. I didn’t dare turn away from the crash site.
Something huge and black jumped into the beam of light, leaping down off the side of the trench. I chased it with the light, catching the glint of bared curved teeth and eyes clamping to slits in the glare, and then it was gone in a plume of sandy dirt, hurling itself out the other side. I chased it, illuminating only the deep gouges in the frozen ground left by its claws. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I knew it was coming for me, and big enough to not have any trouble with it, too.
I pushed up and backward and the line loosened. I wobbled in the crate as I rose up, aware of the metal edge of the ramp connecting with my neck, but I barely felt it. I couldn’t see anything except the thin beam of light dancing around the trench. I had my pistol raised, my hand shaking wildly. I twisted to the left and right — they didn’t like the light, and I felt like giving them an opening was all it would take.
The crate wobbled under me and then toppled. My boots scraped metal and then the line snapped tight around my ribs, cutting into my chest and back. My right shoulder screamed in pain, and I contorted strangely under the stress, the flashlight spinning uselessly to the ground. It landed with a dull thunk, throwing a thin beam of illumination to the left of the ship, leaving the right totally bathed in darkness.
I could barely stay conscious, dangling in the air, the line biting into my skin, digging right in at the point my where humerus met the cuff. I was spitting flecks of saliva and blood through my teeth. I’d bitten my tongue when the box fell. Everett was yelling something, but I couldn’t hear her over the sound of rushing blood in my ears.
Something moved in the darkness and I squeezed the trigger.
A momentary flash of light lit the area and outlined at least four of whatever the fuck was trying to get at me. They hissed and yelped, and scattered, but I don’t think I hit any of them. The bullet spat dust into the air, the dull cough of the shot dying in the frigid night.
“Red!” It was Everett. “Hold on!”
The force of the pistol spun me around and I kicked out fruitlessly for some sort of support, but there wasn’t any. I could feel my shoulder against the ramp, but my feet were at least a meter clear of the ground and the ratcheted winch wasn’t letting me drop. I was pinned in place, and unless Everett hauled me up in the next few seconds, I was as good as a damn pinata.
I came back around and the second I could get the Arcram facing out, I pumped off a few more shots. I wasn’t aiming at anything, but if they were right there, then maybe taking a bullet would slow them down — or just piss them off some more. Either way, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
The rounds stopped me mid-spin and sent me the other way. I threw my hand out, swinging it around my body, and fired from the other side. Nausea was already setting in — the pain, the cold, the dehydration, the sickening dread all compounded each other and if the line wasn’t so tight around my chest, I would have vomited what little was in my stomach all over myself.
I felt something razor sharp rake across my leg and watched in the dull strobing flash of the pistol as one of those things disappeared under the rear ramp and back up the slope.
Blood ran over my knee, hot and fast, dripping off my kicking boot, but I was already letting out a strange, strangulated noise of defiance.
/>
The line tightened again and I felt my chin press into my chest as I was pulled harder against the ramp. It was damn near choking me, but I wasn’t spinning now, at least. The line had pinned me in place.
Everett’s frantic footsteps on the hold floor echoed out of the ship and she crested the ramp, Arcram drawn and firing. She put a dozen shots into the darkness around the ship, and I watched as still images of writhing monsters punctuated the frozen dark.
She threw something over the edge and it swung toward me, hitting my bloodied knee. I winced and kept firing. It was a cargo net — I could tell in the muzzle flash.
“Hook your foot in!” she yelled. “I can’t pull you up on the winch — it’s jammed.”
I tried to say that it was my head that was fucking jammed against the door, but I didn’t have the wind in me to do it.
I scissored my legs as hard as I could, reaching out for it, and felt my toe hook in. I squirmed sideways, twisting up so that my boot hooked through, showing my back to whatever deadly fucking planet we’d landed on.
Everett stopped shooting and disappeared. My heart sank — where the fuck was she going? I was defenseless, exposed to the teeth and the claws.
I barely had time to finish the thought before I felt a jolt that almost ripped my hip out of the socket. I was dragged upward and over, my foot disappearing over the edge above me. My knee strained, bending the wrong way, and then it scraped over the lip. My thigh went next, then my stomach, and suddenly I was over, sliding — or being dragged — across the flat panel of steel. I looked up just in time to see hooked claws reach over the edge and rake backward, centimeters from my cheek.
Everett had tossed the cargo netting over and then used her own weight to hoist me up, jumping down the hold. The momentum of her falling and sliding had been enough to pull me over, but now I was sliding too.
I could see her ahead of me, zipping down the slick metal floor toward the catwalk all piled up with boxes and everything else that had shaken loose from its straps during the crash.