09: Snake in Human Skin (Patreon)

Nicolai was about to walk away from the woman when he realised that would be odd and rude. ‘I’m gonna have a look around,’ he said lamely, not entirely certain why he was even trying. He moved, rapidly stepping towards the nearest rise and climbing hand over foot upwards until he crested the top, his view expanding with the rise in height, escaping the awkward moment.

 Looking around he saw that he stood amidst hundreds of other humans on a circular island roughly the size of three or four football fields, all with the same up-and-down, rough-and-rocky nature. However, this island wasn’t surrounded by water, or even a white void like the last.

It took Nicolai a moment to understand what the lake around the island was composed of. It wasn’t something one commonly observed on Earth, and it looked different than it did in media. Slower, thicker, filled with dark spots, all roiling and bubbling.

It was a great lake of molten rock, lava. On his now slightly elevated perch Nicolai could feel the heat more strongly, a hot pressure layered on top of him, and he could see those near to the edges retreating towards the centre. Nicolai wasn’t in the centre but nor was he so close to the edge that the heat was a threat.

It seemed the lake of lava was roughly circular, ending some distance away from the island. However, he wasn’t able to see past the edge as there was a great barrier of red light encircling the lake. There was a network of natural-looking stone walkways emerging from the island and burrowing through the lava towards a far side hidden by the light.

Nicolai heard a scrabbling sound and glancing down he saw the middle-aged woman climbing after him. He studied her for an instant, and his stomach roiled and his skull buzzed but he looked quickly away after judging that she had no ill intent, returning his gaze to their surroundings.

He wasn’t sure why she was following him, at first, but he realised that he must have succeeded in his simulation of sympathy, and that he’d established himself as a helpful person who could be relied upon. In dangerous, confusing situations like this, it was common for humans to look for those who seemed to know what they were doing, then follow their lead.

People were heading towards the outskirt of the island, towards the lava, and he saw some moving onto the stone walkways. There were faint bursts of blue-ish light whenever one did so, and he saw strange shimmering shields appear around them. That seemed to be the way to go, then.

‘Is that lava?’ gasped the woman.

Nicolai glanced at her. It was obviously lava. She must be trying to make conversation, which he didn’t really have much time or patience for, but he told himself it was good to practise. However, a reply didn’t come easily. Nicolai looked to the lava. Back to her. He could only find one acceptable thing to say, which upset him.

‘Yes,’ said Nicolai, a trace of his resentment making it into the words. She didn’t appear to notice.

Time to move on. He looked back to the woman beside him, experiencing the same problem as earlier. He shouldn’t just leave without a word, not now they’d “connected.” That would again be odd behaviour, and for whatever reason he had become determined to do a good job at acting human. He opened his mouth and, trying not to let his annoyance show, part of him wondering if he ought to just tell her to fuck off, said, ‘follow me.’ Then he slithered down and heard her follow after a moment as he headed towards the nearest walkway.

There came a dull thumpand the air pressed down. Nicolai jerked his head around and looking up he saw a gigantic hawk-like bird slicing through the air. The red light of the lava reflected off of its cruelly hooked beak, sword-like talons and mad yellow eyes. He was about to dive for cover when he realised it wasn’t coming for him.

A crowd had formed before the nearest walkway, composed of those who had happened to be close by. Many were clustering on the rocky ground before the slender and twisting stone bridge, pausing as they felt the heat of the lava and their confidence took a hit, instead opting to stay a moment, look the course over and gather their courage. Now they were looking up, seeing the bird coming, and starting to move. Too slow.

It arrived all at once and landed right in the middle of the crowd, the powerful muscles of its great legs flexing, sharp talons slicing humans like a mechanical thresher would slice wheat. People were knocked about as a mist of blood painted the air.

Nicolai skidded to a stop, eyes on the bird. It was larger than he’d imagined, the size of the tractors he remembered tending fields in his youth. People screamed and ran as it stomped around, knocking them down with its wings, kicking and rending with gore encrusted talons, letting out piercing, victorious cries.

Nicolai quickly found a stony ditch to hide in as he observed, while keeping an eye on the sky for more of the birds. He heard panting and was jostled slightly as the woman slid in next to him, his annoyance flaring at the invasion of his personal space and almost turning into rage.

After fighting down an urge to throttle her—reminding himself that doing so wouldn’t be very human—he instead managed to croak out the words ‘good job.’ In situations like this people were supposed to say encouraging things to one another. She grunted in response, which didn’t strike him as particularly encouraging.

Most of the crowd had escaped the bird but a number of corpses or soon-to-be-corpses lay beneath it. It stomped on the ones that moved. A circle of cowering people formed around it at a safe distance as it lifted its wings and screamed at them. The meaning was clear: stay back.

It was guarding a spot where many of the stone walkways connected, preventing them from even attempting the course. Looking left and right he saw other places where the walkways connected, which had now received their own avian guards.

‘We’re meant go past that thing?’ huffed the woman, fear in her voice. ‘That’s not fair, we’re unarmed!’ her voice rose with her final words, the fear turning into anger.

Nicolai shrugged. It wasn’t fair but that was life and he was neither surprised nor bothered, it was just a problem to deal with. ‘Keep your voice down,’ he told her, his head turning as he checked for nearby threats, then his gaze resettled onto the avian guard.

When none approached the giant bird it fluffed its wings then looked down. Nicolai saw its gaze fall on a man, still alive but injured, struggling below and trying to crawl away. It cocked its head at the movement then lifted a heavy, taloned foot and dropped it onto the mans back with a crunch Nicolai heard from his vantage points dozens of metres away. He could see the man still lived from how he struggled, but the man let out no scream because the weight of the bird had crushed his lungs.

The bird opened its beak, leaned down, gripped the trapped man by an arm and pulled back. It reminded Nicolai of the times he’d seen people get their arms trapped in industrial machinery, the birds movements not slowing in the least as flesh and tendons ripped, blood spurting as it tore the arm right off then tossed its head back and bolted the limb in one. Nicolai saw its throat work as it swallowed, then it bent its head again and the sharp tip of its beak closed around the mans head.

Nicolai turned his eyes past it as the bird feasted, to where he saw a few people running along the walkways. They’d been lucky enough to get onto the course before the bird arrived, or had happened to flee into the course when it landed. Only eight people that Nicolai could count, a few clustering at the start, both terrified of the bird and of the way forward, their fear freezing them in place. Meanwhile others were making a go of it and recklessly rushing or cautiously stepping forwards over the stone walkways.

Each of these people had the same shimmering spherical field of twisting air around them he’d observed earlier. Some kind of protection from the heat? That would make sense, as Nicolai was pretty sure the course should be impossible from the heat alone.

Nicolai watched as a man towards the back of the attemptees reached a section where the walkway ended, replaced by a line of columns emerging from the lava. This individual hesitated not at all as he jumped to the first, then the second, then the third. However as he moved jump-by-jump over the bubbling lava his confidence seemed to fade, Nicolai reading increasing uncertainty in he man’s wobbly legs and flailing arms.

Nicolai saw it coming as the man jumped a little too forcefully, landing on the next in row off-balance and stumbling forward. He tried to jump again but didn’t have time to properly brace himself and toppled, screaming, from the column.

Nicolai heard a gasp of horror from the woman beside him as their eyes tracked the mans descent and saw him hit the lava. He let out his own half-hearted gasp in response, but his face was turned away from her so he didn’t bother to modulate his expression, allowing his eyes to narrow with interest when the man didn’t sink, instead seeming to have hit an almost solid floor.

The fallen man writhed and screamed, flailing at the lava, which Nicolai saw seemed to be very sticky as it clung to him wherever he’d touched it, steam and smoke pouring off as the mans body burst into flame. Soon the fallen man had turned into a chunk of black and red smoking flesh with white bone poking through, thick black smoke continuing to pour into the sky as his body was pulled apart by the currents in the lava.

Nicolai’s gaze moved on. He saw a woman attempt a long jump but stumble as she went to launch herself, and she, too, plummeted into the lava. His companion didn’t let out any sound in response this time so neither did he.

Further along was a place where great shining blades swung back and forth over the path. Nicolai watched as another man judged it badly and was caught by one of the blades, sliced up but more importantly knocked off from the walkway. More black smoke vomited into the sky.

But furthest still there was a young girl, little more than a child. ‘She’s good,’ Nicolai muttered, half to himself, half to his companion, lips curling into a smile as he watched the girl sprinting along, leaping over gaps, stepping between blades, swinging from pole-to-pole. There was a beauty in her movements and he could imagine how the she must feel, the thrill and exultation of surviving a situation that wanted so badly to kill her. It made him yearn to experience the same.

‘She’s mad,’ mumbled the woman beside him. ‘Are you a Raw?’ she asked abruptly.

Nicolai shot a glance at her, finding that she was staring at him with an uncertain frown. She must have tried to thoughtcast at him, or perhaps sent a friend connection request. Such short-range communication methods were apparently still functioning, even without a Network.

Acts like whatever she had attempted were only possible because the vast majority of humans on Earth, and effectively every human in a Corporate city like New London, had the basic implant suite allowing such things. Nicolai currently possessed no augments whatsoever, which was vanishingly rare. Such individuals were called Raws.

As the moment stretched without him replying, he saw her frown deepen, saw her start to lean a little away from him as a faint expression of disgust marred her features.

Raws were not viewed kindly. They were an outcast group, on the edge of society. Being lumped in with them wouldn’t do. Back before Zero-Twelve, Nicolai had put a great deal of care and attention into being “normal,” blending in with the rest of his race. He didn’t think he’d be staying long with this woman, but even so convincing her he wasn’t a Raw could be considered good practise.