Mistrunner - Chapter 46 - Coming in Hot (Patreon)

I have lost a lot of people over the course of my life, but none hit me quite as hard as when Adelaide was killed. At the time, I thought I was accustomed to loss. Her death left a hole in my life that I never could have expected. Once I came to terms with it, I vowed to raise her daughter to be a survivor. And Mirabelle has exceeded my expectations. I can only hope that will continue, because the world is destined to become more dangerous with every passing day.

Jeremiah Braddock III

The Jitterbug shook, and for a moment, I thought we were going to fall from the sky. The only reason I thought better of it was because no one else was panicking. Jeremiah could probably survive such a fall, but I couldn’t believe that Pick or Remy could make that same claim. So, if they weren’t alarmed, then there was a good chance that we weren’t going to crash.

Still, almost by instinct, my hand found Pick’s, and I squeezed it far more firmly than I probably should have. His knuckles popped, and Observationtold me that his teeth ground together in obvious pain. But he didn’t cry out. Nor did he pull away. Even so, I let up as soon as I realized what I was doing. A muttered apology followed.

“It’s okay,” he said, glancing nervously in my direction. The tightening around his eyes told me that he was still in pain, though, and I felt a bit ashamed of myself. I should have been more responsible. If I’d kept going, I could have shattered his hand into a million pieces. I needed to be better than that.

Setting my jaw, I looked away, studying the bare cargo area. There were a few crates near the back, held in place by thick straps. “How long did you say this was going to take?” I asked, raising my voice over the hum of the Mist engines. They weren’t unreasonably noisy, but they were louder than a hover car.

“A few hours,” Pick said. “Maybe as much as five. It just depends on the weather. And…uh…the wildlife.”

Images of birds with a hundred-foot wingspans filled my mind, making me wish that Pick had never even mentioned that running into such a monster was a possibility. I had no idea what we would do if we encountered one. Try to outrun it? Maybe, but I had a suspicion that the Jitterbug was ill-suited for such a race. Perhaps my uncle would take care of it. Or he might have expected me to. I didn’t have enough information to make a guess, so I decided to ask the expert.

“What do we do if we’re attacked?” I asked.

“Depends,” he said. “If Remy says so, we’ll fight it off. If he thinks we can’t take it, he’ll take evasive maneuvers. You’ll want to hold on for that.”

“Any weapons on the ship?”

Pick nodded, the pointed to a hatch above the door. “There’s a cannon up there,” he said. “We have to open the door to get a shot, but that’s not a big deal. I’ve done it a hundred times.”

I was impressed, which must’ve been obvious, because he blushed. Again. So, I moved past it, asking, “Anything else?”

“Remy’s got some guns he can control from up front,” Pick explained, eager to show how knowledgeable he was. “They’re powerful, too. I’ve saw ‘em take out a patrol ship just outside of Memphis.”

“Patrol ship?”

“Oh, right – you don’t have those in Nova,” he said. “Such a weird city ‘cause it’s so isolated. Guess it works for them, but…well, the rest of the world isn’t like that. Most of it, at least. In Memphis – and most of the other cities I’ve been to – they have a peacekeeping force that’s basically an army. They send patrol ships, which are just two-man fighters – fast and light, but they pack a punch…well, they send those out, which makes our job a lot harder.”

That’s when I fully grasped the fact that Remy and, by extension, Pick, was a smuggler. It should have been obvious, if only because he associated with my uncle. Jeremiah didn’t exactly stand on the right side of the law, so any ship’s captain he hired was probably on the same page.

“But it should be fine,” Pick said. “You hardly ever see anything really dangerous this far from the Dead Zone. And most of the time, the really bad stuff won’t leave. It’ll be fine.”

I didn’t really like the idea that he thought he needed to reassure me, but in the back of my mind, I appreciated it. It wasn’t that I minded flying, per se. And I wasn’t afraid of any monsters that might attack us. Instead, I just didn’t like being cramped into a confined space without any ability to see my surroundings. It made me feel like I was trapped in a tin can, and it was a feeling I definitely did not enjoy.

But it wasn’t as if I had much of a choice. So, I settled down, closed my eyes, and tried to get past my discomfort. And for a while, that worked. Pick continued to nervously babble about nothing in particular, and time passed without much happening. Then, suddenly, I heard a loud, continuous beep coming from the cockpit.

“If you ain’t strapped in, you better get that way quick, fast, and in a hurry!” yelled Remy. “We got a bogey comin’ in hot! Big ass sumbitch, too!”

Obediently, I checked the straps holding me in place, and they proved to be just as well-fastened as they had upon takeoff. Glancing at Pick, I asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing good,” he replied. “Remy wouldn’t have acted like that unless it was bad. We’re probably going to have to fight it off.”

On cue, a resounding screech cut through the ship, rattling me right down to the bone. After that, the ship banked to the left, and just in time, too. I couldn’t see whatever had attacked us, but I heard the distinctive sound of claws scraping against metal. The ship went off course, twisting and turning as I gripped the straps. My stomach threatened to rebel, but I wrestled it into submission.

I felt my Combat Focus kick in, and my mind cleared. We were under attack, and judging by what I’d heard, by some sort of large bird. Other than that, I had no information.

“Pickle! Get on the cannon!” Remy shouted, jerking the joystick that controlled the ship. It responded with a corkscrewing barrel roll, and the sound of talons scraping against metal filled my ears once again. “This big bitch ain’t lettin’ us fly away!”

“It’s Pick!” Pick shouted, unbuckling his straps. I wanted to stop him, to yell that there was no way he could keep his feet in such a situation, but he was free before I could even process what was going on. Then, when Remy banked again, Pick somehow maintained his footing. Clearly, he had some sort of ability associated with it. There was no other explanation for why he wasn’t sent tumbling through the cargo hold.

Once the ship stabilized, Pick leapt, grabbing a handle on the hatch above the door, and dragged it open. When he did, a contraption unfolded, resolving itself into a manned cannon. It had a six-foot long barrel, a square body from which snaked a series of metal tubes, and a seat, upon which Pick wasted no time in sitting. He reached up, grabbed a dangling cable, and dragging it to the port on his neck. Jabbing it into place, he pressed a button, and suddenly, the door opened.

The change in air pressure took my breath away, but my attention didn’t waver. The cannon – seat and all – slid out of the ship, held in place on a far-too-thin rod. When he was outside, the thunder of the cannon joined the cacophony of screeches. It was a deep, basso report, less like a gunshot and more like someone was banging on a drum.

“Help him Mirabelle!” Jeremiah shouted.

“I’ll fall out!”

“And you’ll be fine!” he yelled. “This is what you’ve trained for!”

Was this another test? Maybe. I knew that if I asked Jeremiah, he would claim that everything was a test. Even getting attacked by some unknown and likely monstrous avian. But he wasn’t wrong. I had been training for quite some time, and I was eager to make good on my potential. So, with grim determination, I unlatched myself from the seat and, making sure I remained tethered by a single strap, pulled my way toward the door. When I reached it, I saw Pick, who was screaming wordlessly as he unloaded his cannon at an enormous bird that looked like an overgrown vulture.

Or maybe a condor.

Whatever it was, it was one of the ugliest animals I had ever seen. With a completely bald head, thick, black plumage around its shoulders, and a wingspan that must’ve been seventy feet, the thing was a real monster.

Most disturbingly, though, was the fact that the cannon wasn’t doing a damned thing. Even when Pick’s shots connected – and that wasn’t often – the creature shrugged it off like it was nothing. That made it an impressively durable creature, considering that Pick’s missed shots dug sizable craters in the landscape below, felling trees and the ruins of buildings alike.

The condor banked towards us, and I only had a second to clench up before it made contact. As Remy evaded the flying monster, I was thrown across the cargo hold, and the only reason I didn’t collide with the wall was because of my tether. Still, the sheer force involved was enough to knock the breath from my lungs. And I felt sure that the durable strap wouldn’t survive much more abuse.

We needed to end the threat before that happened.

And I had just the tool for the job. After crawling back to the door, I set myself up with a clear line of sight. Then, I summoned my Kicker from my Arsenal Implant, configured it into its sniper mode, then took aim.

Using Empowered Shot, I counted out two seconds before squeezing the trigger. The resultant explosion of force sent me skidding backward, and the ship bucked. But my shot flew true, taking the overgrown avian directly in the right-most wing. It squawked, and I saw blood, meat, and feathers explode.

It wobbled.

I held my breath, expecting it to fall. But to my horror, it quickly regained its altitude and turned toward us. So, from the other side of the ship, where I’d been knocked to my butt, I took aim again, used Empowered shot, and fired. The bullet tore into the monstrous creature in almost the exact same spot, nearly severing its wing.

But it was too late.

The huge bird, whose body was almost as big as the ship, crashed into us. Remy shouted something unintelligible, and Pick – along with the cannon – was thrown back into the ship. For my part, I was sent tumbling through the cargo hold once again. I heard the strap snap, and, when the ship rolled, there was nothing to stop me from being thrown through the door.

As I fell, I couldn’t help but think, I knew this would happen.

It was a fleeting thought, and there wasn’t time for me to think anything else before I crashed into the tree. Limbs snapped under me, slowing me just enough that, when I finally slammed into the ground, I didn’t even break any bones. It had all happened so quickly that it took a moment for my mind to catch up with the events, so I just lay there for a long moment, catching my breath.

A few seconds later, I gathered my wits enough to send a message to my uncle:

Mirabelle: I’m fine. Nothing broken. What do you want me to do?

It took Jeremiah only a few seconds to answer:

Jeremiah: Continue with the mission. You are a few days’ march from your target. By the time we found a place to set down, it would be pointless to pick you up. Good luck. Let me know when you’re finished.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As I lay there, I muttered, “Typical.”

After a few minutes, I finally worked past my annoyance enough to sit up and inspect my body. To my surprise, I didn’t seem all that injured. Sure, everything hurt. I was certain I had a few bruises. But it felt less like I’d fallen from a thousand feet and more like I’d been through an intense sparring session with Nora.

Even so, I took my time with my examination. Triage gave me a vague ability to diagnose any issues or injuries, and it was coming up blank. So, once I’d gathered myself, I gathered my Kicker from where it had fallen beside me, inspected it for any damage, and once I was satisfied that it had survived the fall intact, stored it in my Arsenal Implant. After that, I consulted my map, then set off on a northerly track through the woods.

The first thing I noticed was that, unlike the coastal plain around Mobile, the terrain was quite hilly. It wasn’t to the point where I would’ve called it mountainous – as if I’d ever seen a mountain at all – but it definitely wasn’t quite as flat as what I was used to. As a result, the trek was a little more tiring than it probably should have been. Even so, I made pretty good time, avoiding the wildlife and carving a path through the dense forest. Sometimes figuratively, but often, literally and at the edge of my nano-bladed sword.

As I went, I passed a wide variety of abandoned buildings. Some had clearly been people’s homes, once upon a time, but they had been abandoned for so long that nature had all but completely reclaimed them. More than once, I found groupings of such buildings, and I amused myself by imagining what it all had looked like in its prime. For some reason, I didn’t think the people who’d lived there had been plagued by the same problems that were so prevalent in Nova City or, to a lesser extent, Mobile.

Or maybe I was completely wrong.

That first night, I sheltered in one of those buildings. Most of the interior had fallen victim to the humid air and rotted away, but there were some curious exceptions. A strangely well preserved stuffed dog. A few rusty knives in what had once been a kitchen. A giant, steel refrigerator. A few broken plastic screens. I even found a safe that had long since rusted through; it held a few gold coins and an ancient pistol. I stored both, even if I wasn’t sure why.

Eventually, I settled into what had once been the bathroom and fell asleep in the still-intact porcelain tub. That night was accompanied by the same sounds I’d learned to expect. Howls from wild dogs and wolves, chirps of various insects, and the occasional roar of something far bigger filled the air. I slept fitfully, never descending into a full slumber. It was a regrettable necessity when traveling alone in the wilderness.

Thankfully, the night passed without much issue. However, after leaving the ruins of the neighborhood behind, it was only a few hours before I ran into my first problem. After hearing something coming in my direction, I scampered up a tree just in time to avoid being accosted by a pair of wildlings. One was a man, while the other was a woman. They were both naked, skeletally thin, misshapen, and cloaked in a strange, blue glow that reminded me of the edge of my nano-blade.

One barked at the other, clearly trying to communicate. However, it wasn’t in any language I’d ever heard. Still, the other seemed to understand, and the pair proceeded to search the area, eventually coming upon the tracks I hadn’t bothered to conceal. The female raised her head to the sky and let out a howl; a few seconds later, a full twenty wildlings burst through the underbrush to surround the pair who’d found my trail. Then, they took off in the direction from which I’d come, clearly hunting me.

That told me two things. First, the next time I encountered them, I wouldn’t have the luxury of waiting for them to make the first move. If it came down to it, I would need to open fire immediately, lest I be overwhelmed. Second, they weren’t very intelligent. I didn’t know what effect the Mist had had on them, but clearly, it had sapped some of their reasoning ability. Otherwise, they would have been able to tell that they were following my trail in the wrong direction.

It was a chilling thought, that they seemed to have devolved so thoroughly until they were little more than animals. But it was one I couldn’t spend much time pondering.

After twenty minutes, I judged it safe to descend from my perch, and when I resumed my trek through the woods, I did so with quite a bit more caution, employing all the tricks I’d learned to disguise my trail. It took longer, but it was far safer.

The second night, I found what had once been a small town. A multitude of old, crumbled roads crisscrossed the area, with a handful of buildings within the town topping out at three stories. They were made of sturdy brick and covered with ivy, but they looked sturdy enough. So, I chose one at random and set about exploring it before settling on the top floor, where I spent another nearly sleepless night. I was used to it, though. More, my attributes allowed me to function at peak efficiency without spending much time on rest. Even so, it wasn’t pleasant.

Over the next few days, I slowly traversed the wilderness, seeing more evidence of the civilization humanity had left behind. I was more than a little awed by the fact that everything was so spread out. Back in Nova, everything was piled together, and everyone lived practically on top or below someone else. Before the Initialization, though, people had room to breathe. To live. I wondered if the people who lived in the more affluent parts of Nova had such luxuries.

Like that, a week passed. My uncle, for all his skills and abilities, tended to look at things from his perspective. So, while he might’ve been capable of covering the ground in a few days, it took me quite a bit longer to find the edge of the Dead Zone. And when I did, I felt it immediately.

It was like I’d crossed an invisible boundary. On one side was normal wilderness. On the other, it was something else entirely. The first major difference was that, once I passed that line, I felt a light tingle, as if someone was running a feather along my skin. The next was that my HUD flickered. It was only a brief shudder, but it was definitely noticeable. Finally, everything seemed to have a slightly blue tint. It wasn’t overt. Nor was it unpleasant. But it was there, all the same.

I took a deep breath, stepped back out of the Dead Zone, and messaged my uncle:

Mirabelle: Reached the Dead Zone. Going in. Wish me luck.

Then, without waiting for a reply, I stepped inside and began my test in earnest.