Molt, meanwhile, had let the snakes attacking her bite down, with three clinging to one leg and one to the other. With one sweep, she grabbed the three from her left leg around their necks in one meaty fist and tore them free. She seized their tails in her other hand, crossed her hands across her chest and swung both arms outward. The three snakes were torn in half, and Molt let the flopping pieces fall to the ground.
“You missed one,” said Taunt, and Molt grinned as she pulled the remaining snake free. It twisted in her grip, trying to catch a new hold, until she cracked it like a whip. Its head snapped with an audible crunch.
“Got it now,” she said.
Lacuna, meanwhile, had managed to pin down and decapitate the other snake attacking her, as well. She straightened up, eyeing the edge of her machete critically.
“Not so bad,” said Molt.
From Molt’s shoulders, Taunt chimed in. “Yeah! That the worst you’ve got? Bring it!” Her spiked hair rose in challenge, rattling threateningly.
As if in response, an alligator came charging out of the low growth ahead, bellowing. Its stumpy legs covered the ground with surprising rapidity, closing the distance between them almost immediately. It lunged forward, its mouth open, but Molt stepped in to meet it.
She grabbed its upper jaw in both hands and, while stomping downward on its lower jaw, pulled upward as hard as she could. With a crack, its lower jaw broke, hanging off at a sickening angle as dark blood gushed forth.
The wounded beast flailed, clawing at Molt and whipping her painfully with its tail. She seized the opportunity to switch her grip to the tail and one hind leg, and then swung the monster down at the ground.
Purple grass splintered, but the marshy ground gave beneath the beast’s head, and it let out another roar. With a snort, Molt took three large steps forward and swung the beast like a battering ram into a tree trunk. The tree shuddered and the alligator collapsed. Molt tossed it to the ground and inspected her hands.
“Everything around here is sharp,” she said, showing off several thin cuts.
“How are your legs?” asked Lacuna, who was looking at the serrated mouth of one of the snakes. “Looks like these things were designed to chew pieces out of people.”
“They weren’t designed for me,” Molt said proudly. Small trickles of blood ran from pinpricks on each leg, but on the whole, she appeared to be correct. “Got sliced up much worse last time I was here.”
Lacuna inspected her teammate and nodded. Turning to Taunt, she said, “Mind cooling it with the ‘do your worst’ demands? We’re the ones who have to fight the things that respond.”
Taunt shrugged. “You were going to have to fight them anyway. I just made them come to us.”
“Actually, you’re right,” said Lacuna, conceding the point. Taunt preened.
As they proceeded forward, the ground they walked on shifted from merely swampy to actual swamp. Lacuna began to jump from tree root to tree root, her thick gloves preventing her from slicing her hands open on the sharp bark of Seed’s trees. Molt, after a misstep put her in water halfway up her thigh, began to do the same. Taunt tucked in close to Molt’s neck to avoid low-hanging branches, concentrating on the controller’s screen to keep the drone tracking their erratic path.
“Stop,” Retroactivity said in Lacuna’s ear, and she immediately froze in place and held up a fist. Molt, already crouched to jump, stopped still as well.
“Look up,” Retroactivity said. Lacuna did so, and Molt and Taunt followed her gaze.
“Good,” said Retroactivity, as all three sets of eyes lit on the same thing. Taunt swore profusely. Hanging from the branches above were thin, thorned vines, camouflaged against the foliage above them. Each one was no more than half a finger’s-width wide, but they were tough, sharp and hanging in the right manner to catch the neck of anyone trying to stay on dry land in the swamp.
Lacuna reached up to touch a vine, and it stuck to her glove. She pulled her hand back, surprised, and the vine came with it, tugging a knotted mess of other vines behind it in a sticky net. Moving carefully, she scraped her glove against a tree, cutting the vine loose.
“Okay,” she said. “Don’t touch those.”
“Yeah, you think?” snarled Taunt.
“So what now?” asked Molt. “Are we wading?”
Lacuna swung her machete experimentally at the vines. It sliced through easily enough, the vines swinging away on either side in a dangerous curtain.
“This is still doable,” said Lacuna. “I’ll clear the path.”
They made slow progress through the swamp, Lacuna carving out safe passageways and Molt following behind. Occasionally, she would lend assistance to help Lacuna cross particularly large spaces, forming a stirrup with her hands and launching her a dozen feet or more. After one of these moves, Taunt said, “You two should be in the cirque du soleil.”
“How would you suggest we get across if not like this?” Lacuna asked acerbically.
“A boat? A boat would’ve been nice. We could just be gently paddling instead of—”
“Tell Molt duck,” said Retroactivity in Lacuna’s ear, and she yelled, “Duck, Molt!”
Molt dropped to her knees, her hands flying up to cover her head. She whacked Taunt, sending her flying off to land with a splash in the water. A split-second later, a bird dive-bombed Molt with a screech, razor-sharp talons cutting through the space where she’d just been standing. It flapped frantically, wheeling about and striking for Molt’s eyes. Other birds joined the first, flapping, pecking and clawing as Molt struck out blindly, her eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the assault.
Suddenly, Taunt came streaking out of the swamp, her hands curled into fists and her hair fully raised. Shrieking wordlessly, she ran up Molt’s kneeling form and used her back as a launchpad. She grabbed a bird in each hand, crushing their fragile necks, and leapt into the air to catch a third in her teeth. Bones and crystals crunched as she bit down, and blood ran freely from her mouth as she crashed into the swamp, screaming incoherently.
The remaining birds immediately turned on her, drawn by the unignorable demand of her augment. Unlike Molt, her skin was no tougher than any other human’s, and she screamed as their beaks and claws tore furrows into her flesh.
Her action had bought Molt the moment of recovery that she needed, though. Sweeping up a fallen tree trunk, she struck out at the birds, scything a path just inches above Taunt’s head. Several birds were hit, and the rest scattered, disappearing into the trees.
Molt dropped the tree trunk and helped Taunt out of the swamp, lifting her gently and wiping away the blood to see the cuts beneath. Taunt swatted irritably at her hands, wincing at her ungentle touch.
“I’m fine! Lay off. Didn’t want those things taking out an eye.”
“Where did they go, anyway?” asked Lacuna, scanning the swamp. It was meant to be rhetorical, but a moment later, Retroactivity spoke up in apparent answer to her question.
“They’re behind you,” he said, and Lacuna instantly hurled herself flat to the ground. The remaining birds shot past her, their claws cutting ineffectually through the air. Molt thundered through the shallow swamp in a spray of water, striking the birds down with thick fists as Taunt jeered from her back. With their numbers reduced and the element of surprise gone, the birds had no chance and were quickly dispatched. Their shiny black feathers briefly littered the surface of the swamp before slowly sinking beneath. By the time Lacuna had bandaged up Taunt’s cuts, there was no sign that the birds had ever been there at all.
“Well, that sucked,” said Taunt. “We close yet?”
“No more jumping,” said Molt. “I’m already soaked. Just gonna wade from now on. He’ll reset if needed.” She jerked her head upward to indicate the drone still hovering overhead.
“Yeah, he’s done real good so far,” Taunt said sourly, running a hand along the bandages covering one arm.
“Well, I’m not soaked yet,” said Lacuna. “Mind giving me a ride
?”
“Take a shoulder,” said Molt, extending a hand to help her up. Taunt shifted with ill grace to the other shoulder, and she and Lacuna linked hands behind Molt’s head. Molt straightened, stepped forward and began to cut through the swamp with a steady stride, stepping through the murky water without fear.
Lacuna gave a slight tug on Taunt’s hand, drawing her attention. “Look, now we’re all in the cirque du soleil,” she said, gesturing to Molt beneath them.
“Shut up,” said Taunt. Lacuna and Molt shared a grin.
They pressed onward, every step taking them deeper into the swamp, detouring as necessary to avoid water deeper than Molt’s chest or trees too low to duck under. Lacuna and Taunt kept a sharp eye out for more attacks, but none were forthcoming.
“It’s quieter than I expected,” said Molt. “I mean, all things considered.”
“I think he’s busy,” said Lacuna. “I think it’s taking more out of him than he expected to sustain the Emissary so far away. He might not even really know we’re here.”
“Oh, he’s gonna,” said Taunt.
Retroactivity spoke up in Lacuna’s ear once more. “Stop moving forward.”
Lacuna reached her free hand down to Molt’s shoulder and tapped it twice. Molt stopped moving. They were in the middle of a large grove of trees, at the edge of a deep, still section of black water. Lacuna stepped off of Molt’s shoulder onto one of the trees, then helped Taunt down as well.
“Go dark and unleash her,” came the instructions. “He’s below you.”
“This is it,” Lacuna told her companions as Molt hauled herself out of the water, dripping with swamp muck. “Everyone ready?”
“Ready,” said Taunt, scrambling up into the crook of a tree. “You say the word.”
Lacuna led Molt halfway around the edge of the deep water, selecting a sizeable tree there. “Hold on to this,” she told her, and Molt wrapped her massive arms around the tree trunk. Lacuna looped a steel cable around Molt’s wrists and locked it in place, then climbed up to place thick plugs in her ears. Finally, she wrapped a blindfold around the giant’s eyes.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” she shouted from less than a foot away.
“Barely,” answered Molt. Lacuna nodded, moved several trees away and proceeded to cover her own eyes and ears in a similar fashion. Once secure, she raised a hand in a thumbs-up.
“Do it,” she said, barely able to hear her own voice.
Seconds later, she found herself gripping the tree, her hands tightening into claws, desperate to attack something. She gritted her teeth and held on as the feeling washed over her, permeating her, an incessant demand to fight, to crush, to kill. On and on it went, a never-ending wave of hate, flushing through her entire system and replacing every thought with a blind rage.
Lacuna held on to a thin thread of herself, clinging to it like a lifeline, waiting for the assault to end. Suddenly, she felt the ground beneath her shudder as something massive struck it, and knew it was time to act.
She tore her blindfold free and turned, racing around the edge of the pool toward Taunt. Though she still could not hear her through the earplugs, she could see her mouth wide open in a continuous scream, her hair fully extended in its spikes, her skin a green so dark it was almost black and her hands held out in hateful claws. She crouched there, a malign force shouting out its rage at the world, and the world responded.
Smashing through the water came Molt, steel cable still wrapped around her wrists, a massive tree trunk clutched in her bleeding hands. One end of the trunk was splintered into a jagged wood-and-crystal ruin, and the stump from which it had been torn stood tall behind her. Her blindfold was askew and she was rushing for Taunt, the tree raised to kill.
From the center of the pool, a purplish mass rose like a vengeful god. It deformed as it broke the surface of the water, squashed under its own weight, but it flailed across the surface, dragging countless strands of tentacles in its wake. It, too, was fixated on Taunt.
Lacuna, nimbler and closer, arrived before either. Taunt, still screaming and now audible through the earplugs, leapt onto her, knocking her to the ground. Lacuna rolled over, grabbing Taunt by the neck and shoving her underwater, cutting off her scream.
The cessation of the scream bought Lacuna a moment of sanity, and she frantically grabbed for a syringe in one of her pockets as Taunt thrashed beneath her, clawing at her wrist. Lacuna uncapped the syringe with her teeth, hauled Taunt back to the surface and plunged the needle directly into the side of her neck.
Taunt’s eyes flashed with hate for one more second before her eyelids fluttered shut and she sagged beneath Lacuna’s grip. The purple mass in the pool faltered, slowed and began to sink beneath the water.
Lacuna shouted, “Now, Molt!” and pointed. Molt, rage-dazed and angry, wheeled toward the purplish mass and struck downward, the shattered tree swinging in a mighty arc. It hit the mass with a sound like cement cracking open. Water flew in a massive geyser, mixed with splattered portions of the purple mass. The remnants bobbed to the surface, unmoving except in the ripples of the water.
Pulling out her earplugs, Lacuna discovered that the swamp was in a frenzy of activity. Things crashed through the trees in all directions. Birds called out in alarm, bugs sang, and unseen animals splashed through the water. In their immediate vicinity, however, all was temporarily still. The broken mass bobbed quietly in the water, its tendrils spreading out around it and mixing with the fluids leaking from its form.
Lacuna panted, catching her breath. Blood ran freely from her wrist from where Taunt had clawed at it, staining the water around them red. The needle of the syringe had snapped off in Taunt’s neck, tearing the puncture wider, and that wound added its own crimson contribution. Lacuna hauled her unconscious compatriot to solid ground and turned her attention to her own wrist, bandaging up the gouges as best as she could one-handed.
Molt let the broken tree slide into the swamp with a subtle splash. She pulled out her own earplugs and shook her head. “Is that it?”
“Haul him up to make sure,” said Lacuna. Molt waded over to the spongy mass and felt around with her still-linked hands until she found an acceptable grip, then towed it to the base of a tree.
Spread out, the mass assumed a humanoid shape, but only barely. It split into four main sections, reminiscent of arms and legs, and had the faintest suggestion of a head at the top. All resemblance to humanity ended there, however. The entire body was made of the same soft purplish substance, and it was covered in millions of trailing tendrils like a jellyfish’s tentacles.
“That’s him, huh?” asked Molt. “Thought Taunt and I got it bad.”
“He’s nothing but a nerve center now,” said Lacuna.
“Is he dead?”
“Make sure.”
Molt reached into the center of the mass and tore free giant fistfuls. It separated like wet cheese, drooling a thick fluid over her hands. She hurled the lumps into the swamp and repeated the process, continuing until there was nothing left but a dissipating stain.
“Come here,” said Lacuna. “Let’s get you unlocked and bandaged up.”
Molt shrugged as she lumbered through the water. “Doesn’t matter much. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
She obediently held out her wrists for Lacuna to unlock the cable, and looked at the deep cuts the cable had made in her skin with interest. “Good thing the tree gave. I think I would have torn my own wrist off to get to her.
“Sorry, Lyssa,” Molt added. “I tried. I just couldn’t take it.”
“You did fine,” Lacuna assured her, bandaging her wrists. “No one can stand Taunt at full power. I’ve trained against this and I was barely holding on. I don’t know that Seed even had any direct senses of his own left, and she still got him. You almost took off your hand? He tore off a lot more than that to get to her. He pulled himself free of everything.”
Around Lacuna, the denizens of the Neverglades continued to howl, underscoring her point. She looked d
own at the unconscious Taunt and shook her head. “Let’s get her out of here. You good to carry us? I’ve got to get that needle out of her neck, and right now the only tool I’ve got is the machete.”
As she climbed up onto Molt’s shoulder and helped balance Taunt’s sleeping form, she added, “If she wakes up and starts complaining, I just might give it a shot, though.”
Only a dozen live reporters attended the press conference set up in the Florida DAA’s temporary headquarters. However, the drones hovering behind them guaranteed that the video would be going out on every major network. Mat was smartly attired, as befitted the DAA’s director, but standing next to Retroactivity in his immaculate white suit, he still felt rumpled.
The rest of the crew gathered there, however, made him look like a model straight from the pages of a fashion magazine. Replix was wearing a borrowed button-down shirt which fit him poorly, straining at the seams, and which was untucked over his slightly tattered board shorts. Halflife’s dress had been stained to the color of a deep-tissue bruise, mottling its floral pattern with a necrotic disease.
Compared to the three from the other van, though, Halflife and Replix appeared to have been on a pleasant walk through a well-maintained park. Molt, Lacuna and Taunt all stank of swamp. Mud coated their clothes and darkened their hair, and between the three of them they wore enough blood-stained bandages to wrap an entire mummy. They faced the cameras proudly, however, and even Taunt bared her teeth in a smile for the photos.
Mat cleared his throat and spoke to the cameras. “Seed is dead,” he said without preamble. It was no surprise to anyone watching, and he felt no need to draw it out with flowery words. “These Augments, working in concert, were able to not merely defeat his Emissary, but destroy Seed himself. The Neverglades remain, but there is no fear of further expansion. Miami will be rebuilt. We have triumphed.”
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